#LIME JUICE ITS LIME JUICE I FUCKED UP IT'S LIME

[oldmanyaoi-jpeg]

i HATE that i've actually come up with a coleslaw recipe that i like because i am NOTHING if not a serial coleslaw hater but at least i can make fun of it by calling it soy slawce instead of coleslaw

[zara-renata]

Sylus gets a headache | ao3 | other fics in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, no use of y/n. This story contains: fluff, banter, Sylus has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, legal arguments, bad puns, self-indulgent writing, repetitive finger caressing, insomnia that Sylus is determined to vanquish by any means, Xavier is an innocent victim in all this and has no idea, except has Xavier ever been innocent in his entire life? CWs: insomnia, consumption of alcohol, profanity SFW, mostly. With some filthy innuendos at the end. It's Sylus, after all.

It has been a few days since you had the best night’s rest you can remember on the back of a certain miscreant crime lord’s motorcycle, and you’re once again preparing for a long, torturous night of staring at the ceiling and trying to catalogue all the classes of wanderers in an attempt to lull yourself to sleep—Nero’s suggestion. You have your doubts about whether it will work, but he gave the advice so earnestly after overhearing you talking to Tara about your insomnia that you feel obligated to give it a go. Sylus would probably scoff and say something about ‘people pleasing,’—you shake your head. That man does not get to live rent free in your brain, no matter how suspiciously kind he was the last time you saw him.

The kettle squeals, and you pour the boiling water into your chipped “World’s Greatest Hunter” mug that Caleb had gifted you once you were admitted into the Association’s ranks. The hot liquid steams soothingly into your face as it drowns a chamomile teabag, and you try not to think about the last time you saw him, when he was smiling. Patting your head. Whole, and so, so vibrantly alive. You take a deep, shaky breath.

After a suggestion from Tara, you add some honey and then slice a lime and squeeze the juice into the tea, absently stirring the spoon and gazing out your balcony window. You’re home early for once, and the sun is only just setting. You can’t see it through the high rises around you, but dusk filters down into the streets below your flat. The gentle sounds of the city moving into late evening drift up, the traffic like waves crashing on the shore, laughter and shop bells tinkling, a dog barking somewhere.

Suddenly, your doorbell chimes through your apartment and startles you out of your reverie. Did you forget that you had ordered something to be delivered today?

Without thinking too hard about it, you take your still piping-hot tea and pad to the foyer to answer the door.

Only to have your sense of calm shattered as you fling the mug out of sheer, instinctual self-preservation that Zayne accuses you of not having, when you see who is standing on the other side.

Quicker than your brain can actually process Sylus’s presence outside your flat, scarlet-night tendrils have prevented the mug from shattering on the floor, but have failed to stop the liquid from continuing its projectile path right onto his red, standing collar shirt and black vest.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

“You really, and I mean really, need to work on your greetings, kitten,” he tells you calmly, evol delivering the mug into his waiting hand while he holds the suitcase he has in the other hand away from his body to avoid being dripped on by his now soaked torso.

“Sorry, you were the last person I was expecting.” You wince, heart still threatening to beat its way out of your rib cage.

“Oh, expecting someone, are we?” he lifts a dark silver eyebrow.

“No, but least of all… you.” You flap your hand in his general direction. “What are you even doing here?”

“How about,” he drawls, “you let me in, and I’ll tell you. You wouldn’t want your neighbors to get curious and come to inquire about the mess I’m making on your doorstep, would you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to think of a way out of having him in your space, again, but you’re tired at the end of another long day, another long week, another long month and this whole entire fucking year. Trying to get rid of him will take more energy than just letting him do what he wants so that he’ll go away again. You run a hand down your face and shuffle aside.

He enters, and the scent of him fills the small foyer, warm and mouth-watering. He sets the briefcase and mug on the floor, removes his dress shoes and places them neatly by your own hastily-kicked-off boots next to the step leading into the rest of your flat. He then picks the mug back up and reads what’s written on it.

“World’s best hunter, indeed.” He snorts softly, eyes flicking from your face to your thin tank top and sleep shorts covered in grinning little bounce, bounce planet blobbus, to your bare feet. “Is this how the world’s greatest hunter always answers the door to unknown visitors?”

“It was a gift,” you say defensively, snatching the mug from him and cradling it to your chest. “And the only people who would be at my door this late is Xavier borrowing a cup of sugar for some doomed baking experiment, or a delivery person. I’m sure they’ve seen much worse than this,” you sweep your hand down your body in a dismissive flourish.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve seen much worse.” Sylus frowns slightly.

“Yeah, so if they don’t like it, they’re welcome to move on to their next delivery.”

“Or buy their own sugar,” Sylus murmurs, reaching out to run a finger along your knuckles as you clutch the mug. “And who gave you this highly accurate mug?”

You hesitate, knowing that his face is going to do something complicated, like it always does, when you mention your family. But fuck it, he asked. If he doesn’t like the answer, he can also move on to whatever his next nefarious errand is. “Someone who was like a brother to me.”

“Brother, huh,” he says softly, still gently stroking your skin. “Well, he wasn’t wrong in this.” His hand falls back to his side. “Invite me all the way in, kitten. With your words,” he commands.

“And why should I do that? The deal was to let you come in. You’re in now. You don’t need to come in any further. Now it’s your turn to honor the deal. Why are you here?” You glare up at him, your foyer feeling minuscule with his big body and presence filling it.

“You offered me your place if I ever needed it,” Sylus narrows his glittering eyes. “I needed it today before you flung steaming liquid all over my clothes. And now I need it even more.” He looks pointedly down at the still-dripping clothes in question.

“What did you originally need it for?” You stall, the guilt of throwing a mug full—half! Half full! of tea at him starting to creep in.

“How about you invite me all the way into your home, with your words, help me take care of this mess you caused,” he waves a lazy finger at his torso, “and I’ll tell you.”

“But you already promised to tell me why you’re here in exchange for the initial value of me letting you in, and I let you in. I already paid. You can’t make me pay twice for the same goods,” you protest.

“Remind me to take you with me the next time I have contract negotiations. You’re more useful than my own legal counsel.” He pauses, considering you. “Circumstances have changed. Force majeure prevents me from fulfilling my original promise without requiring additional time and means to fulfil that promise. You owe me the opportunity to successfully deliver what I owe you.”

“What, exactly, is preventing you from telling me why you originally came to my home right here in my entryway?”

“The consequences of an unforeseeable natural disaster,” he answers with a little helpless shrug. “Namely, the trauma of nearly getting drowned in tea following almost being taken out by a mug launched with your god-like strength. Kitten, your assault is the equivalent of an act of god, and I can’t be responsible for the fact that I now need a dry shirt and a safe place to recover from the shock of almost being murdered by your tableware.”

You can’t help it. It has been so long since you’ve actually laughed out loud, so the noise that comes out of you doesn’t even sound human. You’re laughing, and you can’t stop. The affronted look on Sylus’s face in response to your ugly-snorts, causes you to laugh even more, and you’re suddenly bending over, holding your knees, laughing like you might die if you stop.

After a long moment, when you are finally able to breathe again, you straighten and find Sylus looking at you with a soft expression, one corner of his wide mouth slightly lifted… which is alarming. But you’re too filled with gratitude for the relief of laughing that his absurd exaggeration just gave you, so you refuse to think about anything at all too hard right now. You give in.

“Sylus, would you do me the honor of coming into my home? You can tell me what the hell you’re doing here after I find you a dry shirt.” You sarcastically bow as low as you can, your arms uplifted to gesture him forward.

“I suppose I can’t refuse such a graciously extended offer,” he says, as if resigned to a terrible fate, but his smile is smug and he wastes no time striding into your living room while unbuttoning his vest. He gently lays it over the back of your couch, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You force yourself to stop staring as the pale skin slowly being revealed with each flick of his long fingers and head to your bedroom.

You paw through your chest of drawers, trying to find a shirt that will fit his broad shoulders and chest, but all you manage to do is make even more of a mess in your barely organized drawers. You stand, remembering the hoodie Xavier leant you after a recent, particularly messy battle on a chilly night. You move to your closet where you had hung it carefully to remind yourself to give it back to him after having washed it. You pull it from the hanger, turn around, and squeal loud enough to shatter glass.

Sylus is standing right behind you, chest bare, black slacks hung low around his narrow hips, and you did not heard him come in.

“I thought we were past the terror stage of our friendship, sweetheart,” he says, cocking his head, the same ruby stud earrings he was wearing at the club flashing in the light. “But that’s twice today that I’ve frightened you to the point of violence. Am I really that scary?”

“You keep… appearing, out of nowhere. A little warning would be appreciated,” you huff, heart pounding. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around him. Really. It has nothing to do with the broad expanse of creamy skin and pillowy man-tits shoved in your face at the moment. “And honestly, considering the fact that our friendship started with you choking me out and keeping me captive for days, it’s a wonder that I’m not more scared of you,” you flare, because yeah, how dare he act like you should be over the absolute shit-show of your first encounter, when you’ve hardly had any time to get to know him. That’s why you’re nervous. There is no other possible explanation. A couple friendly interactions do not make up for how much of an evil bastard he was when you first met him.

“Would you like me to wear a bell when I’m here, then?” he asks, conveniently ignoring the reminder regarding how he treated you not so long ago.

“How about you just stay out of my bedroom and stay where I can see you at other times,” you snap, feeling violent again at the intrusive thought of Sylus wearing a collar around his thick neck, cute little bell dinging every time he moved.

“I’ll do my best,” he says absently, clearly distracted by his thorough inventory of your bedroom as he takes in the tumbling plants in mismatched pots on floating shelves hanging over the unmade bed, the army of plushies scattered over the bunched up mountain of duvet and pillows. Your bed used to be your sanctuary. The place where you could find rest and relaxation after exhausting battles and long days squinting at the computer filing incident reports. Now it just gives you anxiety. You try to pull his attention away from the chaos of your former safe space by holding Xavier’s hoodie out for Sylus to take.

“Here, this might fit you.”

Sylus looks down at your offering, crosses his arms, and takes a step back, as if the hoodie is so offensive that it warrants recoiling physically from it. “That’s quite a big hoodie for you, even for days when you want to be comfortable,” he says evenly.

“It’s not mine, but it’s clean, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing I have right now that will fit you,” you say, shaking it a little in the universal, impatient gesture of just take it already for fuck’s sake.

“And who is its actual owner?”

“Xavier.”

“In the habit of wearing your partner’s clothing, are we?” he asks, still staring at it, the disdain now plain in his assessment of the sweatshirt.

“Uh, sometimes? We were on a mission recently and my jacket got torn to the point of uselessness, and it was cold. He let me wear his hoodie so I wouldn't be cold. It's been washed since then, so it's clean. I’ll just wash it again when you’re done using it before I return it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

After what seems like a ridiculous amount of time for him to apparently make some mental calculations that only he will ever understand, he finally takes the soft hoodie from you, fingertips brushing yours as he grasps the fabric. You can’t figure out why he he suddenly looks more smugly evil than you’ve ever seen, with his lips curved up in a sardonic smirk. “Oh, of course, I’m sure he will not mind at all.” He pulls the hoodie over his head and shimmies a little as he drags it down is body; it’s a little tight around the shoulders, but you don’t think it’s tight enough to permanently stretch the fabric.

After it’s on, he tugs the collar up to his nose and inhales deeply.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as if you can’t see perfectly well what he is doing.

“It smells like you,” he answers, shameless, as if that is a perfectly reasonable answer to your question.

“Well, I did wear it, and wash it with my normal detergent and it has been hanging in my closet for a while, so…” your voice trails off.

“And soon it will smell like me too,” he continues, letting the collar fall with a satisfied flick of his fingers.

What even is this conversation? “Can you just be normal? For once?" A look of boredom is all the response you get, so you continue. "Now get out of my bedroom. Come tell me why you’re here in the first place.” You stride past him, making your way into the living room.

He follows you obediently and plops down on the couch, and just like last time, spreads his legs wide. This time, he is able to rest his arms on either side along the back of the couch, effectively occupying the whole damn thing. He sits quietly, looking at you expectantly.

You stand, arms folded, a safe distance away from the couch near the kitchen island.

“Well?” You prompt.

“It’s customary to offer your guest a refreshing beverage upon receiving them in your home. I believe I offered you wine the first time I hosted you in my own home.”

“Hosted?” He can’t be serious. “What a generous euphemism for ‘unlawfully imprisoned,’” you bite out.

“Po-tae-to,” he says serenely, “Po-tah-to.”

“Sylus,” you warn—about what, you’re not sure. He wants a beverage? Okay, perhaps you’ll fling more hot tea at him if he doesn’t start talking.

“Kitten.” He continues gazing at you, clearly in no hurry to move things along.

“If you don’t tell me, right now, why the hell you showed up at my place unannounced, I will report you as a burglar and have you removed by the authorities.”

“But then how will you explain to Xavier why I’ve been arrested wearing his sweater?” he asks, eyes wide, all concern for what your partner’s thoughts on the matter would be, and what they would mean for you.

“Burglars have been known to be creeps and go rooting through their victims’ closets and wearing their clothes! I’ll just say you were wearing it when I got here. Maybe he’ll be worried that it’s him you’re actually interested in harassing,” you snicker, trying to picture Xavier’s reaction.

As you’re speaking, Sylus pulls out his phone and fiddles with it with a bored expression on his face.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Perhaps you should go find something more interesting to do and leave me in peace,” you grind out after you’ve finished and notice his complete lack of attention.

Your irritation is interrupted by a notification on your phone. Since Sylus is so busy messing with his, you grab yours from where it has been lying on the counter since before Sylus interrupted your peaceful evening staring out into the city. You see that you have a new message from… the man currently oozing across the entirety of your couch, head lolled to the side and watching you with a hint of amusement curving his mouth.

You open the chat, and your eyes widen at the conversation that never fucking happened currently loading into your chat history, with time stamps corresponding to when Sylus showed up at your door.

You: Oh Sylus, my big, handsome partner in crime, I think there’s an intruder in my flat and I’m so scared!

The Sytuation: What makes you think theres an intruder in your home, kitten? Im on my way.

You: There is sugar missing from my pantry! I just bought a new bag yesterday, and it’s gone! Oh please, my dark knight, come protect me from the sugar thief who should buy his own sugar and stop coming to my place to pilfer mine!

The Sytuation: Of course, sweetie. Go wait by the door, Ill be there in 5.

“What. Is. This. Fuckery,” you demand, thrusting your phone in his face.

He shrugs. “You threatened to lie about why I’m here in a bid to get rid of me. Did you not expect me to counter your move to ensure that no one will believe you?” he pauses, and then narrows his eyes. "Did you really save me in your phone as 'The Situation,' with a Y?"

"Punny, right? My phone doubles as my work phone. You really think I'm going to save your real name in my contacts? I might as well just save you as 'Sylus Qin, leader of Onychinus, most wanted criminal in the N109 zone," you grumble. "And trust me, that's the nicest name I could come up with."

"Punny," he repeats derisively, unimpressed.

“And don't derail. What is this nonsense about a sugar thief?” You wave the phone again.

“Your colleague should learn to stock his own pantry if he wants to engage in… what did you call them? Doomed baking experiments?”

“How did you even… why does it look so real?” You gaze down at the texts that look so authentic that if they hadn’t been filled with such bullshit, you’d be doubting your own sanity about whether the conversation had really happened.

“You’re really surprised that faking evidence, alibis and dirt on my opponents is a part of my vast skill set? I’m hurt that you underestimate me so.” He looks at you like he’s disappointed, a little pout pulling down his stupid beautiful mouth.

“For fuck’s sake.” You’re done. The longer you resist, the longer Sylus will be in your flat, driving you up the wall. “Fine. Fine!” You set your phone down again and throw up your hands. “What do you want to drink, Sylus?”

“Two fingers of gin, if you have it. Or brandy. Or vodka.” He thinks for a moment. “I’m not feeling too picky tonight.”

“I don’t keep hard liquor in my house, you alcoholic. I have a half-open bottle of rosé in the fridge. Will that satisfy his lordship?” You turn resignedly to trod your way to your fridge.

“What vineyard and vintage?” he asks, perking up.

You open the fridge and pull out the bottle. You squint at the label. “I dunno. It has a cute fish on the label, so I bought it.”

He looks at you like you just murdered Mephisto, and you begin pouring the pink liquid into another mug. This one says UNT on the side in big block letters, matching the size of the handle so that when you hold it, the handle looks like a matching C. You walk back to where he’s sitting, and you think that maybe your smile looks as smug as Sylus’s usually does when you hand him his drink.

He takes the mug from you, snorts when he reads the side, and then look at its contents dubiously for a moment.

“You taste it first,” he finally says, looking back up at you.

“Worried I poisoned it?” You’re still grinning.

“As you say,” he says, tilting his head.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t demand beverages from people you don’t trust then.”

“I trust you, just not your taste in wine after learning you choose bottles based on the cuteness of the label. Indulge me,” he murmurs. “Prove to me that you’re willing to drink it, and that it’s not just swill you’re trying to get rid of by offering it to me.”

You take the mug from him and lift it to your lips, taking a sip, watching him over the rim as you swallow. His nostrils flair, and he lifts his hand in a gesture for you to return it to him. Instead of giving it back, you take one more big gulp, and his brow furrows. Only after you've slowly swallowed again do you comply, relishing the warmth spreading through your body as you lower the mug for him to take. He brushes your fingers again as he takes it back. He turns the mug, so that his mouth hovers where yours just was. He then closes his eyes and inhales, gently swirling the liquid inside. Eyes still closed, he takes a sip.

After a moment, he sighs. “Thank you. This is actually not bad, for a rosé.”

“You’re such a snob,” you smile down at him, irrationally pleased that he seems so pleased.

“Life is too difficult, and too short, to waste on inferior experiences. I only like tasting the best,” he says, bright red eyes opening and fixing on you.

He looks up at you like you should be able to draw some deeper meaning from his words, but you’re tired, warm from the wine, and despite how much he winds you up you were just moments ago, right now you’re strangely relaxed for the first time in days.

“Tell me why you’re here, Sylus,” you say quietly.

“You told me I could use your place when I needed it,” he says, just as softly. He takes another drink, rolls it around in his mouth. Swallows, his adam’s apple dipping.

“And why did you need it this evening?”

“I had some negotiations regarding a business acquisition that I’m considering in this part of Linkon City, and they were abhorrently boring. By the time they were over, I had a splitting headache, and the sunlight didn’t help. It would have been unsafe to operate a motor vehicle under those conditions, so I thought I’d come and wait for it to pass in my newest ‘safe house,’ he answers gravely, as if getting a headache was a perfectly logical reason to crash your evening and take over your couch. “Wouldn’t want to endanger the innocent citizens of Linkon City with reckless driving, now would we?”

“Aren’t all of your shady business deals done under the cover of darkness? Why were you here at a meeting during the day?”

He’s holding the mug in one hand by his fingertips now, along the rim, slowly swirling it. He crosses one long leg over the other and answers languidly. “You’re assuming that today’s business was ‘shady.’”

“So your business today was legitimate?” You’ve been standing for awhile now, and begin to shift from bare foot to bare foot.

He hums in acknowledgement. “My business interests are as varied as they are successful. You insult me by looking so surprised.”

“Well I would never want to insult you,” you drawl. “So that’s it? You got a headache and decided you’d crash my evening?”

He nods, touching his temple and grimacing. “It’s still pretty bad, to be honest.”

“The daylight bothers you that much?” you ask, genuinely curious. You have always assumed that it was the nature of his occupation and perhaps just a proclivity for being a night owl that explained his nocturnal existence, but now you’re wondering if it’s not something deeper that has him avoiding it as much as possible.

You finally decide to give your tired feet a break and perch on the little corner of couch cushion that has been freed for use by Sylus crossing his legs. “If sunlight bothers you that much, what could possibly be so important to come out in it today?”

“Are you really asking about the details of my business ventures, sweetheart?” he asks in what you suspect is feigned astonishment.

“And if I am?”

“Then I’ll tell you,” he responds easily.

“Then I am.”

“I’m in discussions for acquiring a chain of entertainment venues in Linkon City.” He leans his head on the couch’s backrest and lets it roll to the side to keep looking at you. He catches the look of disgust that is no doubt obvious on your face.

“Entertainment venues,” you say flatly.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“What kind of … entertainment venues?” you ask, hating yourself for wanting to know. It’s his business if he wants to buy porn shops, or strip clubs, or brothels—your stomach twists, and you refuse to consider why.

“What kind of ideas are racing through that fascinating brain of yours?” he asks, reaching up and running two of his fingers along your temple, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“Nothing,” you bite out, turning your face away from his touch. You normally dislike how you have a hard time concealing how you’re feeling, but you particularly hate it right now.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “Then, to answer your question, it’s a chain of arcades.”

Your brain grinds to a halt. Did he just say—

“Arcades?”

He nods, and winces, closing his eyes. You’re starting to believe that his head is actually hurting him, and you feel bad for throwing dishware and hot tea at him and refusing to offer him more than the one drink he asked for.

“Why would you be interested in acquiring an arcade chain?”

“Even for odious crime lords, it’s always wise to have a diversified business portfolio.”

You have called him a lot of things both out loud and in your head, but you’d never call him odious. Odorous, perhaps, when he’s sweating heavily after being riddled with bullets. But you have to suppress the urge to chastise him about talking about himself that way.

“Which chain is it?”

“You probably don’t know it,” he says, as if bored with the question. “It’s not a very large chain, but large enough for my interests.”

“Try me! I love going to the arcade when I have some free time. I mean, you’ve seen my plushie collection now that you invited yourself into my house,” you bounce a little on the couch.

“You invited me, kitten. You’ve had a choice, each and every time.”

“Don’t deflect! Answer the question!” You’re quite excited about this. Maybe if it’s a place you know, that has a location nearby, he’ll give you a discount if he ends up buying them? Like an employee discount or something. Is that ethical? You should check the Association’s employee handbook for conflicts of interest.

He squints, as if preparing to evaluate your reaction, and names your favorite place to play the claw machine.

“For real? You’re really going to buy them?”

“I still have to review the contract that was proposed during today’s discussions with my legal counsel, but if negotiations are successful, then yes,” he says, casually examining his nails.

Your excitement is hard to contain, but you suddenly have a troubling thought. “You’re not going to change anything, right? Like, that place is perfect as it is, and the employees are all really friendly and helpful and clearly work hard to keep it really nice,” you rush out, worried that he’s planning to reduce the staff  or try to jack up the prices for a larger profit margin.

He turns to look at you again, and doesn’t answer for long enough that you’re really starting to worry. But then he says softly, “No, I’m not going to change a thing.”

“Oh? So they’re doing well? It’s a solid financial investment?” You’re so relieved, safe in the knowledge that your plushies will continue to be accessible, insofar as claw machines by design allow them to be.

Sylus laughs softly. “Yes, the financials all look good. Considering your interest in the nature of binding agreements, would you like to look over the purchase agreement with me? I have it with me.”

“I’d actually really like to, but I’m starting to get really tired,” you yawn, the relief you were just feeling—the relief of knowing that Sylus wasn’t up to anything that would leave a blood trail today, relief that he didn’t come tonight to try to force you to resonate or finally kill you for refusing to do so, and most importantly, relief that he wasn’t going to acquire and ruin one of the little pleasures in your life—all of it is now drowned out by a heavy feeling of pleasant drowsiness.

“Then I’ll read it to you, until you fall asleep.”

“Huh? You want to stay?”

“Yes,” he says, hauling himself to his feet and offering you his hand. You take it in confusion, and he lifts you to your feet as well. He sets the now empty mug on your coffee table, and then places his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you from behind to your bedroom.

“Why?” you ask, not even thinking to object.

“Headache, remember?” He pushes you gently by your shoulders so that you’re sitting on your bed.

“How can you review legalese when you’re suffering from a headache?” You sink into the softness of the mattress.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he says, nudging you until you’ve scooted to the middle of the bed. “Don’t move. I’m going to get my tablet out of my briefcase.” He disappears through the doorway, and you’re left sitting on your bed, surrounded by all of your plushies, and you have no idea what’s happening. You’re just too tired to argue with him. You really did miscalculate by spending all of your energy trying to get rid of him when he first arrived.

But just because you’re bone-tired, doesn’t mean you’re going to let him boss you around. You get off the bed and pad into the kitchen, passing him as he snaps his briefcase shut, tablet in hand.

“I distinctly recall telling you not to move,” he gripes, pushing up an elegant set of gold framed glasses perched on the uneven bridge of his nose with a middle finger. Huh, you didn’t know he needed glasses to read. He looks almost … cute wearing them, a little less feral. Like a leopard wearing a monocle.

Suppressing the thought of Sylus and cute in the same sentence, you ignore him, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. Then you rummage through your most chaotic kitchen drawer for a few moments, before triumphantly pulling out what you were looking for.

You pad back over to where he’s still watching you, and offer him the glass and the half-used blister pack of over-the-counter painkillers you fished out of your chaos drawer. “Here.”

He looks down at your hands, offering him what you hope is some relief from his headache. His face is impassive, and you’re worried he assumes you’re trying to poison him again. But then he tucks the tablet under one arm, and reaches out with both hands to grasp the glass and the pill pack—except he doesn’t take them from your hands. He envelops yours with his, and pulls you gently closer to him. He somehow manages to pop two tablets out of the pack with his thumb, and they drop into your curved palm. Still holding your hand, he leans down to sweep them from your skin with his tongue. In a complete daze, you watch him lift the glass that you’re still holding to his lips, and he takes a long pull of water, washing the pills down, all the while holding your gaze with his. When he’s done, he slowly lowers your hands again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs “For the benevolence of your heart.” He says it gravely, as if you’ve just saved his life instead of giving him some headache medicine.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, feeling like you’ve been struck by a truck after… whatever that was, feeling the warmth of his tongue in the palm of your hand like he was still licking it. Sylus then turns and heads back to your bedroom.

You set the glass and the now-empty pill pack on the kitchen island, thinking you’ll clean up tomorrow if you manage to sleep tonight, and follow him.

In the bedroom, Sylus sits, leaning back against your headboard, having needed to gently scoop some plushies out of the way to make room. He stretches his legs out in front of him with a sigh. He looks so soft, wrapped in the white hoodie, silver hair rumpled, surrounded by pillows and cute little plushies.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to remember that the man currently sinking into your duvet and wiggling his sock-covered toes in contentment is the same man who straight up exploded the man who dared kidnap you, and then proceeded to kidnap you himself after choking you to the point of passing out. You try to hold both of these truths about him in your mind at the same time, but the image of Sylus dancing you gently through a press of bodies, of the way he caresses your fingers at every opportunity, the soft slide of his tongue along your palm—these images are conquering every other version of him that you know to be true in your mind. You wonder briefly if this is part of some larger scheme of his, and what his endgame could possibly be. But right now, you’re too fucking tired to care.

“What is even happening,” you ask. You’re exhausted, but you still have enough mental reserves to question how you got here, in this situation, with this man migrating from vanquishing your couch to a large part of your bed. “Is the coffee table, or kitchen table insufficient for your needs? Why are you going to review the paperwork here, on my bed?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how quickly you fell asleep on my back on the motorcycle the other night, sweetheart. I’m just reading you a bedtime story featuring limitations of liability and allocation of risk so that you can finally get some sleep again.” He pats his thigh. “Here.”

You just stare at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns, tapping his thigh again with one long finger. Just for that, you glare mutinously at him and fold your arms over your chest.

He sighs again, this time in exasperation, and leans over, firmly lifting you and setting you down so that your head is pillowed against his meaty thigh. He begins to run his fingertips gently up and down the middle of your back. He returns his attention to his tablet. “Now listen carefully,” he commands, before flicking the screen with his thumb and beginning to read in his softly in his deep, rich voice.

But of course you don't. You fall asleep as the skyscrapers light up like a dragon's hoard of jewels in the night sky outside your window, to the sounds of Sylus’s quiet recitation of indeed, a terribly boring contract, and the whisper of his fingers along your skin.

When you wake up, there is another black feather on your pillow, and you are alone. You yawn, once again feeling unbelievably rested despite the chaos Sylus always brings to your door and into your life. You stretch leisurely, spreading your arms wide and turning your head on the pillow, when something catches in your earlobe. You reach up and run your fingers along a stud earring that was not there when you fell asleep. You feel your other earlobe, but it's empty. You grab your phone from the nightstand, knocking over a semiautomatic hand pistol with scarlet flames engraved along the grip that you also don't remember owning onto the floor. You stare at it briefly, ready to commit murder if you check it and find that the safety isn't on. But first things first: you put the phone camera in selfie mode and lift it to your face, but quickly lower it again after confirming that it is indeed a ruby stud in your ear, sparkling cheekily in the morning sunlight.

Later, you're relieved to find that Sylus did actually leave the safety on on your new little ... toy, and you'll find that the mugs have been washed and set neatly away, the empty pack of painkillers placed in the recycling bin. You also see that various takeout containers and other debris that had piled up on a lot of surfaces in your place are also gone, and the countertops are clean, the coffee and kitchen table gleam in the early morning sunlight. You don't notice that the white hoodie is nowhere to be found, until you meet up with Xavier later in the day. He's wearing one that looks exactly like it.

"Thanks for returning the hoodie," he yawns. "But you really didn't have to."

You pause, feeling a thread of panic start to wind its way through your stomach. You decide to just... go with it. "Oh? You found it okay?"

"Yeah, but why did you just leave it hanging from my door handle? You could have rung and come in. I had a new limited edition bag of those cookies you were looking at in the corner store last week. I would have shared some with you... but now I've eaten them all," he admits sheepishly, big blue eyes shimmering with guilt.

You try to think fast. Did Sylus give back the hoodie without washing it? What the fuck was he thinking? He could have been seen! Does this flat have surveillance footage? Does Xavier suspect anything? You realize that you still haven't answered Xavier's question as your panic spirals. "Oh, you know, didn't want to wake you up," you flap your hands, as if you can flap this entire situation right out of your messy life.

"Well, I don't know what you did to it, but it feels brand new. As if it's never even been washed. And you somehow got out the bbq sauce stain that no matter how much I sprayed it with that stain remover stuff would never come out. So you're going to have to teach me some of that laundry magic," he says contentedly, snuggling further into the entirely new hoodie that you now realize Sylus must have somehow, over the course of the night, had hand-delivered to Xavier's place. "Uh huh," you say absently, pulling out your phone to furiously text Mr. Asshat when you see that he has also changed his name in your contact list.

You: What the hell did you do with Xavier's hoodie?"

My Sy: It doesnt matter who it belonged to before me. All that matters is that its mine now.

You: It doesn't even fit you properly! You're too big for it!

My Sy: Nothing a little size training cant fix.

Your jaw drops. He cannot be implying what you think he's implying. This is your filthy mind at work. You decide that you will simply pretend this conversation never happened. Absolutely nothing good can come from trying to figure out what the fuck is going through Sylus's head at any given moment.

You: And 'My Sy?' Really?

My Sy: Its not punny, but it rhymes. And its accurate. Gotta put the phone down for a bit, kitten. Business requires my attention. Ill be seeing you soon.

You stare at his last message for long enough that Xavier asks if you're okay. You're not. You're not okay. You couldn't even bring yourself to ask him about the other earring, or the gun. You just slowly slip your phone back into your cargo pants pocket and try very hard to stop thinking, for the rest of the day.

[bitchfitch]

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

[pjackk]

If u have any conections in the online community please let me know and contact me cuz i need to find out how to buy Www.TheSadTruth.Net to tell my story for the first time on my own terms one last time wich despite it all still rings true even though i was built fucked up and my mind was made to be horible from the very start and ive been havign a hard time lately and realy strugling with my problems and shit and they raised the price of the green juice lime botles si uts realy hard for me to even aford basic necesities of my shitty excuse for a life i cant even make my #FamouisCubanBurban cocktale anymore to go with my cigars im not even able to aford a good stogie every day no more and ive had to downgrade from pappy 23 to pappy 20 fuck my shitty ass life and i just need to be able to let everybody kno how much they have skull fucked me in the ass all the time epecially since the feds and the mens in black at the variuos "Federal" criminal agencies got involved with my phone gig they i was honetly trying to find new friends with my phone and i didnt even mean to take nobodys money or nothin they just gave me the gift cards as a gift for me since they liked me alot so now im on my l;ast legs and cant aford rent anymore since my landlord #BeheadTheLandlors is trying to kick me out of my mental health meditation pad that i need for tranquilaty and self care in hawaiey not to mention #BigGov is not even leting me throw grenades for fishing no more so i guess that was my last ffcking bluefin i will ever get so they are making it super hard for me to even live at a base level and i realy need help and suport u can send me cash on my app called Cash App at $pjack9 if u want to mutual aid me up i will not forget my friends if i get out of this slump but i miht not ever post again since i will be long gone so fuck it i think its time i hoist the white flag bvut my enemys dont even want to see me a live even if im sitting cuteley like a puppy dog they will still blow my iron skull off at the drop of a top hat so just keep me posted if there is anything U would like to serve me with i realy like: Twunks, jocks, tweekers, scratchoffs, CigarPigs, MoneyPigs, PiggyBanks, and Goon Hunniez so dm me yo junk imediately if u want to make me feel so good

The wolves are at my fucking door and I cant keep them out.

[kcrossvine-art]

Hiiii friendssss! What the FUCK is up. What the fuck is up. What the Fuck is up. On todays cute little cookin excursion we are going to be deep frying things and using a wok. If you dont feel comfortable deep frying, and dont have a wok, im sure theres other ways to do it silly :DDD

I believe in you.

From LotR online we're gonna be making Fried Beetroot Sticks!! 

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into Fried Beetroot Sticks?” YOU MIGHT ASKSlices of sweet little beated root dipped into a batter with, watch out, special flavors too.

2 Beetroots

Corn flour

Salt 

Red Chilli Powder

Garlic Paste

Baking Soda

Water

Peanut oil

And we'll also be making some horseradish sour cream dip to go along with it;

Sour cream

Prepared horseradish

1 Green onion 

Few splashes of lemon juice

Salt to taste

Ground pepper to taste

"Cooked, tender beetroot sticks are dredged in a light batter and fried to give a crispy exterior and a soft, sweet interior. Served with a bracing horseradish sour cream, this snack is both filling and delicious."- LotRO Tooltip

AND, “what does Fried Beetroot Sticks taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is like homemade fair-food and it sounds like a contradiction but its not

But maybe its just because its fried food? American brained, sorry.

Retains the inherit sweetness to beetroot

And similar to pickled beetroot the sweetness contrasts the spicey of the batter

(which i encourage you to amp up if youd like more spice)

The horseradish sourcream dip is to die for

Measure with your heart for that one, and save some green onion to top it with when you serve

This would pair very well with a lime italian soda or with shaved ice cones

Im always very anxious about deep-frying things, or working with oils at high temperatures, but i didnt run into any complications with this dish. Just make sure to keep best practices and safety precaution in mind, especially with a wok as it can tilt!

. If you dont have corn flour, you can substitute all-purpose flour . If you dont have peanut oil, look up oils with the same smokepoint to decide what else to use

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

The recipe stuck out to me, as i was assembling a list of foodstuffs from tolkiens work, for being such a "regular" named food. Also its worth 19 silver 69 copper in the LotR MMO and im immature.

I think the dip has the most room for improvement and tinkering. I've never made horseradish sourcream before, so more practiced tastebuds could perfect a simple thing like this. In the future id also like to try adding red pepper flakes along with the the powder and garlic paste, to give more visual variety and spice. I think cumin in the batter would be a nice midtone flavor too.

I give this recipe a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) for its relative simplicity and modularity with things you could add.

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Beetroot Sticks Ingredients:

2 Beetroots

130 grams corn flour

1 tbsp salt 

1 tsp Red Chilli Powder

1 tsp Garlic Paste

1/4 tsp Baking Soda

178 grams Water

432 grams peanut oil

Horseradish Sour Cream Ingredients:

225 grams Sour cream

200 grams Prepared horseradish

1 whole green onion (green and white parts VERY finely chopped)

1 tspn lemon juice

Salt to taste

ground pepper to taste

Beetroot Method:

Peel all beetroots and cut them length-wise into  rectangles.

Combine flour, salt, chilli powder, garlic paste, baking soda, and water in a bowl.

Mix well into a smooth batter.

Heat peanut oil to medium in a wok and dip beet roots into batter. Deep fry until golden brown in color.

Stack beetroots on paper-towel lined plates to cool and dry as you go.

Serve with horseradish sour cream!

Dip Method:

Mix all ingredients

Cover and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour for the flavors to blend.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Between the Neon (Male!Android x AFAB!Reader)

Pairing: AFAB!Reader x Male!Robot

Genre: Sci-fi, CyberPunk, Prostitute!Reader, Fluffy Smut

Word Count: 1714 words

Warning: Explicit Content Ahead (18+ ONLY)

Summary: After leaving his last appointment completely satisfied, Axel wasted no time in coming back to request more of your services.

Request: Anything with Axel please! (From kinktober)

A/N: Soooo I totally forgot that the original drabble with Axel (Which you can find here) was gender neutral, and didn’t realize until I had fully written out the fic 🤦‍♀️. Soo I decided to write two versions, one with an AFAB!Reader and one with an AMAB!Reader, with the reader still using they/them pronouns. Hope y’all enjoy!

Link to AMAB!Reader is Here!

After many years of working, you’ve grown a good sense for customers; Who will tip well, who’s going to cause problems, and the special few who will become your favorites.

You knew immediately that Axel was going to go in the latter category. But what you hadn’t expected was for him to jump to your #1 patron within a month of your first rendezvous. Man was eager and had some money to spend, that was for sure.

“Hmm, good bot.” Your thumb rubs across his smooth skull-plating, moaning as his synthetic tongue fucks against your g-spot. His vents exhale hot steam, like a heating pad between your legs. He had gotten that body mod after three sessions together, something to prevent him  from overheating amidst the countless orgasms. The nodes of textured tongue send shivers down your spine, making you sink into your plush work bed. “Fuck, your getting good at this, Axel.”

Axel had learned on his second visit that your pussy was his favorite flavor, always begging for a taste at the beginning of every session. He had been slightly clumsy at first, but once he learned your biology, he took it up like a dedicated scholar. You had even caught him looking at extensive diagrams of the human vulva after one session, making notes on what made you specifically shiver and cum.

“I’m close, baby.” Axel moans into your mound, face lit in bright blue blush. Machinery whirrs as your thighs press into the sides of his head, his own personal heaven. Your toes curl behind his neck, orgasm striking quick and hard “Fuck~” You pant, hips jerking and humping into Axel’s jaw, your juices running down his chin. He laps them up like a dog, always desperate for another taste.

You have to pull him away from your cunt, slightly overstimulated and eager for the next part of your session. Axel has a stupid wide grin on his face, his digital pupils turned into glitchy hearts.

What a cutie.

You kiss Axel’s cheek as he crawls up your body, letting him snuggle into your neck and hug you with sticky hands.

“I wanna try something new today.” You whisper in his audial port. Axel whimpers.

“Yes p-please.” He lets you pull away from the embrace, obediently following orders to sit on the edge of the bed. Axel is always quick to try new things, desperately excited to explore your body and all its new sensations.

You remember the first time you rode him, how his glitchy voice echoed across your apartment. 

“O-o-oh stars!”

His hands had struggled choosing between gripping your hips and fondling your tits, watching all of you bounce in his dick. That dilemma was solved when you flipped into reverse cowgirl and he was able to palm your jiggling ass cheeks.

“You’re incredible! Incredible!” He had yelped as he overloaded inside you, licking your thighs clean of cum right after. He then spent the next 20 minutes caressing your butt, watching the way it wiggled with every hip movement.

That's what inspired you tonight.

You flip around to your stomach, holding your weight on your elbows and shimmying your hips. Your fingers come down to your pussy lips and spread them wide open. 

“Come here, baby.”

Axel scrambles up the bed, aching cock in his grip, lemon-lime coolant dripping down the shaft. He’s quick to line up with your hole, but doesn’t sink in just yet. He never does without permission.

Good boy.

“Now put your hands on my hips.” Your voice guides him along, shaky digits glancing across your pelvis. His leaking tip pressed against your entrance, so close to just slipping inside you. Another burst of air comes from his vents.

“Now's the fun part.” Settling into your knees, you throw your ass back onto Axel, cock sliding in like a hot knife through butter. His digits leave indents on your love handles, his voice glitching.

“Fu-uck!” He pants, his eyes going cross from the sudden grip on his dick. Your velvety walls hold him tight, his nodes rubbing as he his hips jump a little. You smirk, swiveling your hips.

“You gotta good grip back there?” Your voice purrs, and you take Axel’s lusty moans as a definite ‘yes’. 

Axel’s voice melts into whines as you slide him out till the tip, only to shriek and glitch when you throw your ass back on to him. You give him little time to recover, using his hands for stability to throw it back and over and over onto his cock. Streams of coolant run down his cock and between your pussy lips, sloshing together with skin and wiring.

“Oh, stars and galaxies~” Axel moans, leaning his torso forward to help his balance. “You feel so go-od.” Axel's tongue lolls out in a pant, more steam pumping from his vents. “That ass.” His voice teeters off, hands wandering down to your jiggling backside.

“You wanna slap it, Axel?” You swivel your hips again, core clenching as you put an extra shimmy in your hips.

“Y-yes. Will that h-hurt you-ungh!” 

Your pussy walls clench onto Axel’s cock, bottom lip bitten between your teeth at the idea.

“No, baby. I want it.”

A mixture between a delighted giggle and a ravenous moan squeal from Axel’s audial ports. One hand moves from your hips to your ass, never leaving the skin. He gives a tentative squeeze, mindful of his robotic strength, before giving you a soft tap. It’s sweet, but you crave more. 

“You can do it harder, Axel. In fact….”

You pause your bouncing, craving to see Axel’s expression. His cheeks grow bright with his coolant, his pupils flickering back and forth between the arch of your back and your face.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Patience, sweet thing.” You grip onto the bedspread below, adjusting your knees upward into proper doggy style. “Here, grab onto my hips again.” Axel follows your instructions dutifully, finding his palace on your pelvis. His plating shudders as you rock forward, pulling his cock out to the tip. Axel rushes to follow, hands still in place, but resists. “Okay, now pull me back. Like I was doing before.”

There’s an audible click as Axel turns his head, slightly confused. But as always he’s an obedient boy, and does as he’s told.

He goes slow, still timid and unsure. But a crackling groan from his chest tells you he’s catching on quickly as pulls you back onto his cock.

“Ok, now pull out a bit.”

Big globs of coolant drop down your pussy and onto Axel’s shaft as he does, another shudder. His digits shale against your skin.

“Now, pull me back and push your hips up.”

Axel increases his pace a bit, impatience finally getting to him, chasing your warmth. A texture head bumps against your g-spot, and you make sure to emphasize your moan.

“Again.” 

Axel, ever the fast learner, humps into you again, nodes scraping along your inner walls with a little more force. You bite your lip.

“Again, faster.”

Your right hand spreads forward, knuckles clenching into the fabric. Axel, ever the quick learner, thrusts again with more gusto. Another crackling moan from behind you. He doesn’t wait for your instruction, following the unspoken and humping into you.

“Yes, just like that.”

Axel is quick in finding his rhythm, engines whirring as his hips speed up. Your cheap mattress squeaks, bed frame now hitting the wall as Axel throws his weight into you.

“Oh, yes.” Axel moans, eyes transfixed by you jiggling ass, jiggling because of him.

“Ungh, right there!” Your neck arches backward, mouth open wide with your tongue sticking out. Axel’s head easily find your g-spot with every hit, even as Axel himself grows more frantic. Mechanical parts that you’ve never heard from him before kick into gear, helping him move with more and more force.

“Ooo-oh!” Axel digits grow slick on your sweat, struggling to find a grip. But he doesn’t care, clawing into the fat and chasing the high of your cunt on his cock. Cum and fluids spatter onto your ass cheeks, even reach your lower back as Axel fucks you hard and fast.

“Slap my ass!”

This time the mix of adrenaline and lust are too much, overloading Axel’s more gentler sensibilities, and he gives you a proper spank. The noise echoes across the room.

“Fuck!” Your pussy milks him for all his worth. Axels digits rub across the handprint do doubt on your skin, right before slapping the other side just as hard. “Yes! Yes!”

Your headboard crashes into your wall now, shaking the very foundations of your shitty apartment. The gears in Axel’s legs work overtime, and you're sure the only thing that could stop him now would be his own orgasm, not any kind of exhaustion.

Speaking of which-

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. W-where do you want-”

“Inside, creampie me!”

It’s like a password, sending Axel into a whole new mode of fucking. His cockhead pounds the very end of your pussy, hands knotting into your ass. You feel a buzzing running up your stomach and down your legs. Your skin feels like it's on fire.

“So good, so good, so good.” Axel’s voice babbles, no amount of steam for  his vents preventing the rising heat in his wiring. “Oh, stars”

An explosion of cum bursts in your cunt, filling you up like a sex toy, spurting out of the sides. You reach your high at that moment, toes curling and pussy flexing onto Axel’s cock.

The poor bot nearly collapses after he pulls out, his modesty plate shuddering to close as his temperature warning beep goes off. He falls onto his side, arm thrown over his face. 

It takes you a while to catch your breath, trying to remember the last time a client left you this cock-drunk. Once you do, you sidle up to Axel, enjoying the excess warmth of his body, like a giant heating pad.

“That was….awesome.”

Axel pants, arm slipping under your hips to pull you closer. His system beeps again, no doubt sending him advisories to push your hot, warm-blooded body away. But those are quickly deflected, Axel nuzzling his face into your hair.

Yup, definitely one of your favorites.

[starwarsanthropology]

Fuck Canon Tiingilar

i hate the canon tiingilar recipe with my whole heart. Look at this (original source Galaxy's Edge cookbook). This is supposed to be "blisteringly spicy Mandalorian stew or casserole"? This is a mild chicken curry.

It sounds good, but it's not the rich, spicy, flavor-packed mandalorian stew of my dreams.

Let's start by breaking down the etymology of tiingilar.

Tiingilar is broken into 3 parts: Tiin, gi, and lar.

Tiin is an underived form of tiin'la, or coarse.

Gi is the word for fish.

Lar is a bit up in the air; it could be related to laar, for sing (which anyone who's seen someone bite into something spicier than they can handle can understand), or galar, for spill/pour (makes sense for stew), or even olar for "here", which I suppouse could be extrapolated to mean "whatever is here" for a stew which has flexible ingredients.

But the really important bits are the "tiin" and the "gi"! The first chunk of tiingilar means "coarse/rough fish(y)".

The other food word we have with "gi" in it from canon mando'a is "gihaal", (which, hilariously, breaks down into fish-breath), a pungent fishmeal. It's long lasting and stable which means its probably a staple ration food. It sounds like it'd put most people off at first, but given mandalorian tastes prioritize strong flavors (draluram), possibly including pungent flavors, and "richly nourishing" foods (yaiyai) it's probably a pretty common ingredient.

Guess what fishmeal is! A very high protein (typically 50-60%, but up to 70% for some varieties!), nutritionally dense, and coarsely textured! It's used in any cuisines; some is processed for human consumption but I cannot find any sources that use it in food except in research aiming to combat malnutrition (shout out to researchers at the Abeokuta University of Agriculture for being the best resource about fishmeal in food!). Although we can't know that gihaal would be the same as our version of fishmeal (which is normally processed from whole fish), I think that we can assume that mando'ade woudn't be skimping on the inclusion of bone, which include a lot of valuable nutrients, and would make it coarse.

So, gihaal is a pungent, likely coarse fishmeal that is a staple nutritional supplement in, at minimum, field cookery. It would make nutritionally-dense, protein packed, and strongly flavored base for tiingilar. Makes sense linguistically and practically for mandalorians to build their cooking around nutritionally valuable and shelf-stable rations.

Which brings me to the mandalorian values in food! Draluram (bright mouth: intense, bold flavors), heturam (spicy as in heat burning in the mouth), hetikleyc (spicy as in sinus burn), and yai'yai (richly nourishing, which I personally take to mean both nutritionally dense and satiating) are the 4 canon words that express the priorities in mandalorian cuisine.

These values fit in with the inclusion of gihaal as a base for tiingilar, adding yai'yai if not draluram, but where's my spice? Where's my layers of spice, the sharp sinus burn that makes your eyes water and the creeping warmth that leaves you panting and the bright heat and the numbing and tingling sensation at your lips?

Definitely not in that yellow curry recipe.

The inclusion of ginger and cinnamon (from garam masala) are both nice, but think bigger and broader! Obviously, we don't have mandalorian herbs, but add spice with chilies, cayenne, ginger, horseradish, mustard seeds, sichuan pepper! Bring out warming spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, star anise! Highlight the different elements of spice and warmth and flavor with enthusiasm and delight!

As for draluram, I think the pungent flavor of fish is a nice, bold addition to something for a unique flavor, but let's not forget other players. Aliums like garlic and onions are always lovely, but what about citrus? If mandalorians have behot, what's stopping you from adding in citrus juice or peel or some kaffir lime leaves? What about strong bitter flavors from vegetables you choose, like mustard greens or kale, or the rich savory taste of browned meats if you want more protein in your dish?

Yai'yai, we have a good base of protein and fat and nutritional content from the fishmeal, but why not build it out? Add sugar, both to balance flavors and because energy is energy and mandalorians certainly like their sweets. Fats and oils, other meats and proteins, vegetables and carbs. Add nuts, peanut butter, sesame for added bulk and another element of flavour. I want to see an end product that sticks to your ribs, that makes me skip seconds on not because I don't want more, but because I'm full on one serving.

Back to the etymology. Mild chicken curry is not tiin, nor does it have gi. It's fairly yai'yai, got decent draluram, negligible heturam, and no hetikleyc.

Tiingilar with a gihaal base (in irl cooking, any kind of fish base) and heavier seasoning to add multiple kinds of heat would fit all of those categories so much better.

So I guess in the end, I'm saying I don't have an idea of tiingilar as any one recipe, but tiingilar as a general dish that leans into mandalorian food culture and the literal meaning of the word. Maybe it's little gritty and somewhat fishy, but it's a rich and spicy and flavorful meal you can make with whatever on hand as long as you have a handful of staples.

Sources:

Adegoke, Bakare & Adeola, Abiodun & Otesile, Ibijoke & Adewale, Obadina & Afolabi, Wasiu & Adegunwa, Mojisola & Akerele, Rachael & Bamgbose, Olaoluwa & Alamu, Emmanuel. (2020). Nutritional, Texture, and Sensory Properties of composite biscuits produced from breadfruit and wheat flours enriched with edible fish meal. Food Science & Nutrition. 8. 1-21. 10.1002/fsn3.1919.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fish_meal

https://mandocreator.com/tools/dictionary/index.html# for mando'a translations and definitions

https://www.reddit.com/r/Mandalorian/comments/mp1x7o/recipe_for_tiingilar_medium_heat_add_garlic/ for the recipe

[mydearesthrry]

okay i have a concept. body shots w harry????

oh anon ur fucking good. yeah baby lets do it. fbh for obvious reasons but for the plot its phh. couldnt do a full body shot but i tried my best. shes a shorty, enjoooooyyyyy ;)

cw: suggestive content, underage drinking but they’re at a frat party so idk do w that as u will

“oh, wait,” she giggles, hopping up onto the counter in the kitchen, the loud speakers making her voice nearly impossible to hear. “come here, h.”

“yeah, baby?” he grins, walking up to his girlfriend to stand between her legs.

“i have an idea.”

“uh oh,” he snickers, running a hand up and down her thigh, repeating the pattern when he hit the hem of her shorts. “that always never ends well.”

“shush! grab me the tequila, please?” she asks sweetly, grabbing a lime from the bowl next to her, the salt shaker already in her palm. harry nods and walks over to the other side of the counter, grabbing the bottle of tequila and two shot glasses, presumably thinking that they were gonna take a shot together.

stalking back over to Y/N, he hands her a shot glass and the bottle, already screwing open the top for her. “oh, nuh uh.”

he looks at her confused, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched slightly. “huh?”

“only you are taking a shot, mr. styles,” she grins mischievously. “but your chaser? on me, baby.”

and he’s convinced his heart just about stopped.

“seriously?” he stumbled, eyes wide.

“mhm. get me prepped, pretty boy.”

and so he got to work, filling a tiny glass nearly to the brim, tapping on her chin lightly so she could hold the lime between her teeth. placing the glass down on the counter, he grabbed the salt shaker from her hands and looked her in the eye, asking for her consent, all to which she nodded to, craning her neck up to expose her neck and chest to him.

leaning in, he placed soft kisses along the column of her throat, nipping softly every so often, creating a wet trail to her breasts, where he blew a puff of air down her cleavage, knowing it would make her squirm.

“h!” she giggled, grabbing at his shoulder-length curls, wrapping them around her fist the best she could, pulling him up and plucking the lime from her teeth, pulling him in for a messy kiss. “times tickin’, baby.”

moaning against her lips, he nodded, bending back down to her chest, his hair still wrapped in her hand. peaking out his tongue from his raspberry colored lips, he slowly licked a wet stripe along her breast, standing up and sprinkling salt on the gleaming strip on her chest.

“ready, mama?” he asked, pressing a quick chaste kiss to her cheek, picking up the shot glass when she nodded.

leaning back in to her tits, he licked the salt off before throwing back the tequila. he swallowed and leaned in quickly, grabbing the lime from her mouth and popping it into his, he bit the juice out from the lime and spit it into the sink. grasping her chin and jaw in his hand, he collided his lips to hers, teeth clashing in heat, tongues perusing each others mouths.

“harry,” she said breathlessly against his lips. “harry— harry, take, fuck, take me upstairs.”

nodding, he grabbing her thighs and wrapped her up against his stomach in a front piggyback, already leaving the kitchen, the evidence of the shot sorely left behind. “as you wish, princess.”

[shit-solkat]

Names for every sprite (canon and not) - Homestuck

After this post (link), I started thinking about names for every sprite (prototyped Kernelsprites) that isn't simply their names smashed together. You can totally disagree with me :) I'm fine with it.

Yes, I will also explain my thought process and the names' meanings.

Note: I love using common words as names, but there will be other options as well :)

Note2: I find translations and meanings on google; of course I don't know all the languages of the world. So if I fuck-up some names, pardon :( (I can't fuck-up italian names cuz I'm italian tho lolz).

Note3: Not everyone has 2 names, it's hard :c

Note4: Many characters miss, and I WANT to make a second part!!! So don't worry too much about it (but you can totally contribute if you want :) )

Note5: No ship tagged cuz it's not a ship list lolz, but you can consider it like that if you want :3

Long post

Canon:

* Davepetasprite^2 = Paws, Hunter

>Paws: cuz i said so (scientific answer).

>Hunter: Both cats and crows are hunter-animals.

* Erisolsprite = Selvhad, Jabez

>Selvhad: "Self-hatred" in Danish.

>Jabez: Hebrew name, meaning "born in pain".

* Fefetasprite = Harcsa, Nyna

>Harcsa: Means Catfish in Hungarian.

>Nyna: Means "enclosure of fish" in Babylonian, but it sounds kind of like Nya/Nyan too (onomatopoeia for cats in japanese). Also, niña in spanish translate to little girl (which is cute).

Non-canon, random order:

* Johnrosesprite = Spring, Aurora

>Spring: When there's a lot of sun but breeze as well.

>Aurora: Girl-name (so perfect for Junerosesprite); an Aurora in italian also refers to Northern Lights, which are formed through "solar winds" (at least that's how we call them).

^* Rosejadesprite = Spring (it's perfect here too!!), Wisteria

>Spring: There is SUN, the FLOWERS blossom!!!

>Wisteria: Purple flower that is toxic to cats and dogs (and horses, if you care).

* Aradavesprite = Jikan, Horatia/o

>Jikan: Means Time in Japanese.

>Horatia/o: Latin names that means Timekeeper (or Hour, Time, Season). Horatia is feminine while Horatio is masculine, I imagine them simply switch from day to day.

* Jadekansprite (Jade+Kanaya) = Lotus, Zhade

>Lotus: Frogs often use Lotus leaves (alternative to frog leaves, called "common plantain" lol).

>Zhade: French name that means "precious stone". It's Jade in french, basically.

* Johnluxsprite = Netsky, Cloud

>Netsky: It's a PC virus. I choose it because of its name. Obvious reasons.

>Cloud: Another word for name srr, but John=Wind/Sky, Sollux=PC, Cloud=The thing on the sky & The App(s) (there are many).

* Solkatsprite (/Katluxsprite) = Downup, Moros

>Downup: One of the names of a powerful virus, which locks all accesses to infected advices and that permits to others to control the device from distance. It mostly uses fake anti-virus programs to spread - like "scareware" (it was used as a war weapon too).

>Moros: In Greek means "Doom"/"Impending Doom", but it also looks like moron so of course I had to include it.

* Rosekansprite = Rosemary, Ambrosia

>Rosemary: Yes, their ship name. But it simply fits!!

>Ambrosia: It's the Gods' food; Ambrosia is the *pollen* that Gods drink to stay immortal.

* Calliejadesprite = Titan, Oxalis

>Titan: Could be just me flashing like crazy, but anyways the Titans where the children of Heaven (Calliope, a Cherubin) and Earth (Jade, who saved Earth + plants + green + oh my god).

>Oxalis: It's a flower that looks like a candy cane.

* Davejadesprite = Saros

>Saros: A period of about 18 years between repetitions of solar and lunar eclipses.

* Calliroxysprite = Mojito

>Mojito: It's a "candy alcoholic drink", made with white rum, sugar, *lime juice*, soda water, and mint.

* Aratavsprite = Cornelius/Cornelia

>Cornelius/Cornelia: Means "horn" in Latin :) Cornelius=masculine, Cornelia=feminine.

* Nepquiusprite = Witten, Kamala

>Witten: Masculin Germanic name that means "Pale person" (also "Blonde" but ignore that part).

>Kamala: Hawaiian femminine name that means both "Lotus" and "pale red".

* Vriskansprite = Kyanite

>Kyanite: Blue-Green gemstone that has healing properties (allegedly), useful for low blood pressure, relief from physical pain, as well as a mind-calmer for trauma-recovery.

[cherrycola27]

Desire

Warnings: Drinking, cursing, Smut 18+

It shouldn't be this hard to fuck your husband. I mean, for crying out loud, you and Rooster were the only married couple in the Dagger friend group. Sure, Phoenix and Hangman were engaged. Bob had his girlfriend that he brought with him, and Maverick and Penny were, well— Maverick and Penny.

But you were the only married couple, and it seemed like this month, the universe had been conspiring to keep you from getting laid.

First, you had the flu and didn't want Rooster anywhere near you. Then your period came early. And not that you were opposed to period sex. You definitely weren't. You just weren't feeling it. And then Rooster had to spend a week in Lemoore demonstrating some new tech, and now that he was finally home, the two of you were like dogs in heat.

That was until Jake had called him a few hours ago to remind him about Javy's birthday celebration at the Hard Deck.

So here you were, leaning up against the wall, watching your husband play pool with the boys.

God he looked so fucking good in the new Hawiian shirt you had gotten him. The sleeves were fitted just enough to strain against his biceps when he flexed them to line up his shot. And you're sure that he wore those light washed blue jeans just to fuck with you, because boy did they make his ass look good.

It wasn't fair that he was walking around like sex on legs, and you couldn't do anything about it.

Or could you?

You smirked wickedly behind your drink as you met Rooster's eyes across the pool table. You definitely weren't trying to distract him from his game. It was a total coincidence that you just happened to lean forward and squeeze your chest together at the exact moment he took his shot.

And you definitely didn't mean to graze his ass when you walked behind him the next time was bent over the pool table.

And you just had to squeeze past him and brush your ass against his crotch so you could do a tequila shot with Phoenix.

You tipped your head back and let the clear liquid burn its way down your throat. You bit the lime, and you couldn't help that a stray drop of juice from it ran down your face along your neck.

All of those events were just— happy accidents.

Rooster's grip on the pool cue tightened. He knew what you were doing. He was doing his best not to let you win. Trying to focus on anything but you and the little game you were playing.

He took a breath and tried to drown out your laughter by listening to the music coming from the jukebox. However, U2 singing about a fever getting higher and desire growing wasn't helping his situation.

You and Phoenix dancing on each other while the song blasted through the speakers also didn't help.

Thankfully it was no longer his turn at the pool game, so he could take a seat for a minute and try to discreetly readjust the semi he was sporting. Normally he wouldn't be this turned on by your little stunts, but it had been almost a month since he had fucked you, and it was starting to get to him.

You noticed he had sat down, so you took the opportunity to waltz over and plant yourself in his lap. You gave him a sweet smile as you wiggled your ass against his cock, all in the name of getting comfortable.

His hands harshly grabbed your hips to still your movements as he let out a hiss. He gave you a stern glance before whispering in your ear.

"Sweetheart, if you don't stop teasing me right now, I'm going to take you to the bathroom and bend you over my knee." He warned.

"Is that a promise?" You asked with another wiggle of your rear.

"Honey. I mean it, be a good girl and cut it out." He growled in your ear before giving your hips a squeeze.

You turned and looked him dead in the eyes before saying, "Make me."

Rooster was stunned at your words. He pulled back and looked at your face. You sat there still smiling at him with big, innocent doe eyes. To those around you, it looked like the two of you were having a sweet exchange, but it was much more wicked than that.

You gave him a peck on the lips before hopping off his lap and walking towards the bathroom. Before opening the door, you turned back and shot Rooster a wink before gesturing to your phone and shutting the door.

Rooster quickly checked his phone and noticed the new text from you, telling him to meet you in the bathroom in five minutes.

He watched the time slowly tick by on his phone before finally excusing himself from the group. He sped to the bathroom, ignoring the calls of Hangman and the others asking him to come back.

He can vaugly hear Bob saying something about not waiting on him, but he doesn't really care at this point.

No, he's on a mission to fuck you... pool game be damned.

He pushes his way through the door and locks it before turning to look at you. You're perched up on the counter, leaning back on your hands.

"Took you long enough," you say as he makes his way over to you and harshly kisses you.

His hands are all over your body. He tugs down your tank top and pulls your bra cups down in one swift motion. He attaches his lips to one of your perky nipples and swirls his fingers around the other one.

Your hands fly to his hair as you try to hold him closer to you.

Normally, Rooster would take his time with you. Build you up to the edge over and over again until you were a babbling, crying mess. But he knew the two of you were on borrowed time, and you didn't have long before someone came looking for you.

"C'mon baby, we don't have much time before people start wondering what we are doing. My pussy is aching to have your cock inside it." You moan against his ear, trying to urge him on

"You don't think my cock is aching to be inside you? I haven't had you in almost four weeks, woman." He growls back, jerking your hips forward on the counter to pull you flush against him.

"Not my fault you've been in Lemoore the past week." You tease back, nipping at his ear lobe.

"Don't fucking remind me about Lemoore. I was so wound up I had to jerk off in the barracks like a fucking horny teenager." He groaned while reaching for the button of your jeans.

"Watched some of those videos I have of you on my phone. Was nice, but not nearly as good as the real thing." He moaned while pulling your pants and panties down in one swift motion.

"Oh, baby," you moan as his fingers skimmed along your soaked folds. "Which ones did you watch? The ones where I'm choking on your cock?" You hummed against him. He grunted in response. "Or what about the ones where I'm finger fucking myself? Was it one of those?" You ask him. He doesn't respond. Instead, he sinks to the floor in front of you. His breath is hot against your core as he speaks.

"No, I watched my personal favorite. The one we made in front of the mirror. Love seeing my girl so cock drunk and fucked out while she's taking me so well. You're like my own personal pornstar in that one baby." He tells you before burying his face in your heat.

He pulls one of your thighs over his shoulder to give him more access. His tongue laps against you in fast, hard strokes. It doesn't take long before you feel your release build in your belly.

"Oh fuck, Rooster! Feels so good!" You cry out as you grind your pussy against his face, trying to get some more friction.

Rooster slips two fingers into your weeping cunt, burying them past the knuckles and crooking them just the way he knows you like. He finds that wonderful spongy spot inside you and curls his fingers over it, over and over again.

You throw your head back unable to contain the moan that leaves your mouth. You really were going to try and be quiet, but it was no use. They way his hands and mouth were working you, you wanted everyone to know how good he made you feel.

"Right there, baby, please don't stop!" You cried out, and he sped up his fingers while his tongue drew figure eights on your clit. You gripped his shoulder to ground yourself, red nails digging into him as your climax washed over you.

Rooster rose up, your release glistening all over his face. He wiped it with the back of his hand before licking his fingers clean.

"Nothing line having my favorite meal after going so long without it." He tells you. You roll your eyes at him.

Rooster doesn't give you time to respond before he pulls you off the counter, spins you around, and jerks your pants down to your ankles before pushing you down against the counter.

He slots his thigh between yours and kicks your legs further apart.

He pushes into you in one fluid motion. He gives you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him being inside you. You'd think you'd be used to him by now, but even now after a year of marriage and years of being together, you still need some time to adjust to his size, because he's just so damn big.

Once you've settled down, you rock your hips back against him, signaling for him to move.

He starts out slow, building a rhythm. His fingers flex against your hips, pulling you flush against him with each snap of his hips. He wants, no, needs to be deeper inside you. He has the overwhelming urge to fill you, consume you, possess you. He wants to fuck you dumb, push every thought out of your brain, until all you know is him.

The sounds that are coming from you are lewd. If you had half a brain about you right now, maybe you would be embarrassed. But all that's on your mind is a carnal desire to be fucked senseless by your husband.

Your skin is flush. You feel like a candle that's been lit and left alone, burning out of control. Each thrust of his hips, each drag of his cock through your folds, each filthy thing he whispers in your ear only fans that flame that's burning in you.

Rooster hips are relentless against yours as he continues to pound into you. You're trying so hard to stay quiet, but it's damn near. Impossible.

"Come on baby, let them hear you. I want everyone to know how good I make you feel." He moans in your ear. You can't contain the groan that comes from deep inside you.

You lull your head back against Rooster's shoulder as the arm he has wrapped around your torso pulls your tighter against him.

You're so close, and he knows it. Rooster probably knows your body better than you do. He feels your walls flutter around him. Gripping him, not wanting to let him go.

He grabs your chin and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. He wants you to watch yourself fall apart.

"Look at you, honey. So beautiful. So fucked out. I want you to watch. Want you to see what I see. Want you to see how fucking gorgeous you look when you cum all over my cock." Rooster whispers hotly in your ear.

He holds your face there as his hips repeatedly snap into yours.

The hand around your middle moves so he can draw tight circles on your overly sensitive clit.

Without him supporting you, you lean forward, searching for something to grab onto. Your hand lands on the handle of the sink faucet.

You grip onto it for dear life. Your eyes never leaving the mirror.

This is truly the most erotic thing you've ever done. Your breast bounce with each thrust of his hips. You can see the fucked out expression all over your face. Your cheeks are flushed, your mouth hangs open in an O shape.

You lock eyes with Rooster in the mirror just as he brings you over the edge. You cry out his name and clamp down on him, sending him to his finish right behind you.

You watch as his face twists in pleasure as he cries out your name.

It's so overwhelming that your whole body shakes before both of you collapse on top of the counter.

It takes you both a minute to come down from your high, Rooster slowly pulls out of you. You wince at the loss of contact, already missing the fullness of him.

He tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to make himself presentable. He grabs a few paper towels to help clean you up, but when he goes to reach for the sink, he sees it. The faucet handle laying haphazardly next to you.

His eyes go wide before he lets out a laugh. It takes a moment before your brain catches up with the rest of your body to realize what you've done.

"Oh Fuck!" You screech out, jerking you clothes back into place. "Penny is going to kill us! Not only did we desecrate her bathroom, we broke something too."

"I'll just pay for it. Don't worry, baby." Rooster says to you casually.

"I can't go back out there with this. If I do, everyone will know what we did. I can not do the walk of shame— again, " you groan.

"Baby, for one, I'm pretty sure everyone knows what we did—even if we didn't break the faucet. And for two—it's not a walk of shame. It's a victory lap." Rooster grins.

"I'm not going out there, Bradley. I can't." You start to panic.

"Since when are you shy? This was your idea." He reminds you.

"I know, I know but I didn't take into account the possibility of property damage!" You scold him.

"C'mon honey, I'll explain everything to Penny, and we will all have a good laugh about it." Rooster grabs your hand, trying to tug you out of the bathroom.

You plant your feet, refusing to move. "Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, don't say I didn't try." Rooster sighs. Before you can respond, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. He grabs the faucet handle before carrying you out of the bathroom.

"Bradley Alexander Bradshaw! You put me down this instant you—you big lug!" You scold as you smack his back.

Rooster just laughed and rolled his eyes before approaching the bar. You buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore the wolf whistles from your friends.

He walks up to where Penny and Maverick are sitting and drops the handle down on the counter with a smug grin on his face.

"Sorry Penny, just put it on my tab," He states. Penny looks at the handle, too stunned to speak, before looking back at him. She opens her mouth, but Maverick cuts her off.

"Rooster— Rooster is the broken faucet a result of you defiling my daughter in the restroom?" Maverick sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He already knows the answer.

"Well, Dad, you did say you wanted grandkids." You reply as you crane your neck to look at him because Rooster still has you thrown over his shoulder.

"I—ugh" Maverick sighs, not sure how to respond. He's pretty sure Goose and Carole are laughing at him from Heaven right now.

"Like I said, Penny, just put it on my tab, gotta get the missues home to work on those grandkids for you and Mav," Rooster winks before strolling out with you still over his shoulder.

Hey babes! Here is my second contribution to @roosterforme love is in the air challenge! Inspired by the U2 song "Desire"

Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme @withahappyrefrain @sebsxphia

[mixsethaddams]

Soft Steddie summertime ficlet. Pure fluff. ~1700 words. No ratings or warnings.

Twitter got it first but tumblr got spellchecked 😹

One of Steve’s favourite things to do on a hot summer morning, was to stay in bed.

It was his own little form of rebellion. After years of being forced to get up at the crack of dawn to ‘not waste the weather!’ as a kid, he loved nothing more as an adult than to listen to the bird song through the window, muffled by the closed drapes.

He wasn’t always able to break the habit of a lifetime. He spent a long time after his parents stopped coming home still hauling himself up with the sun and berating himself into doing something that was worthy of the good day.

Some people didn’t have the luxury of getting up and going out to enjoy a hot day, so he should just be grateful. He spent more days than he could count sitting at the edge of the quarry, watching the gang play in the water. They loved it when Steve called to see if they wanted to do something for the day. They’d still be half asleep whereas he would’ve been awake for hours, waiting for a reasonable time to pick up the phone.

He would sit with a hot coffee, another little ‘fuck you’ to his mother. He loved warm drinks on sunny days, the way the extra heat made the tip of his nose prickle. His mother insisted he only ever have the awful homemade lemonade she never made sweet enough and steeped the peels in for too long. It was bitter enough to make Steve gag if he didn’t brace himself properly for it.

It wasn’t until the arrival of Eddie Munson that things started to shift for Steve.

He noticed it for the first time when, at one of the many quarry days, Eddie stole a long mouthful of Steve’s coffee before lighting a cigarette and settling down onto the rocky beach next to him.

“Fuck that’s good,” muttered Eddie, wiping a stray drop from his chin.

Steve stared in half-disbelief. Everyone made fun of his little thermos before now.

Steve felt a familiar flutter in his chest.

He’d been ignoring it up until now, convincing himself it was nothing because how could it be, they had nothing in common? Surviving a bizarre mind wizard’s attempt to end the world doesn’t exactly count as a ‘shared interest’.

Steve tested the waters slowly throughout the rest of the day. Nothing too crazy, nothing too deep. Just to see how close to his own opinions Eddie’s answers would land.

“Ed, I’m gonna do an ice cream run. Whats your favourite?”

“Anything lemon lime, man, thanks”

Steve’s favourite was the lemon lime popsicle.

“I got some snacks too, here, which one do you want?”

“Oh shit is that a Baby Ruth? I’m taking that, fuck the kids”

Steve had bought himself that same candy bar.

But Steve shook himself off again because come on, really? They were like, the two most popular things out there.

Only when the kids emerged from the water for their lunch did Steve see a little more of what they had in common.

There were pouts all round when the rules of an on-the-spot game were in dispute.

Voices spoke over each other to get the adults to agree that they were right and their rules were the ones that should be followed.

Steve sighed and prepared himself. Of course, the only options were to either find a new game entirely, or figure out the rules again together as group, right from the beginning.

Steve was used to being fought every step of the way on things like this. Robin and Nancy would make unhelpful comments in jest, and Steve would end up the bad guy for at least two of the gang.

He was about to open his mouth to propose his solution, when Eddie beat him to it.

“So find another fuckin’ game?”

Eddie said it so easily, licking melted popsicle juice from the side of his hand.

“But-!” The protests came immediately. Steve readied himself to dive in.

But Eddie spoke first again.

“If you can’t agree on this one, find another one,” he said firmly. “You wanna sit out here and talk about rules for an hour until its all straightened out?”

Heads shook.

“Didn’t think so. Now fuck off, you’re in my sun,”

Steve watched with wide eyes as the kids, who were really almost college aged by now, went happily back to the water.

“How did you do that?” asked Steve.

“Do what?”

“Make them listen!”

Eddie laughed.

“They had two options, they picked one, simple,” said Eddie with a shrug.

Steve watched Eddie carefully, waiting for more of an explanation that never came.

“What, you had a different solution?” asked Eddie.

Steve shook his head.

“Thats exactly what I was going to say,” said Steve, looking out to the water where they were playing together merrily.

“We good?” asked Eddie slowly, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah!” said Steve quickly, realising he’d been staring. “Not used to having someone on my side when they start fighting, thats all,”

Eddie hummed and went back to his candy, occassionally stealing more of Steve’s coffee.

When the sun was finally lowering in the sky and the water was getting that little bit too cool to be enjoyable, Steve and Eddie shared the last cigarette in the pack while everyone else towelled off and gathered their stuff.

“So what, uh…” started Steve. “What would you usually do on a day like this? Or is this your thing?”

Steve was curious if all the little shared enjoyments and opinions of the day would continue. If it would amount to the thing at the top of Steve’s list, that he’d been bred to believe as ‘shameful’.

Eddie hummed around the butt of their cigarette before passing it back to Steve, giving him the last drag.

“Big plans for days like this, Harrington,” said Eddie, stretching out and resting back on his elbows.

Steve felt his stomach twist. He’d gotten it wrong. That was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. Steve was used to thinking he’d found someone he could be himself around and then realising he was wrong.

“I would’ve stayed in bed all damn day,” said Eddie, smiling softly up at the sky.

Wait. What?

“You…bed?” stuttered Steve. “Seriously?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” mumbled Eddie. “Don’t waste the day or whatever. You ever stayed in a dark room when its sunny out? Life changing, man. Ultimate relaxation knowing you’re choosing comfort over convention. Trust me,”

Steve was stunned.

“I…I was thinking the same,” admitted Steve.

“It’s nice,” he muttered, not looking up at Eddie and feeling embarrassed somehow. “I like listening to the, um, to the birds, you know? But still being in bed,”

Eddie nodded his head.

“I totally get it,” agreed Eddie, smiling wide. Steve’s chest felt like it was about to burst when they made eye contact.

“Wonder what else we have in common,” said Eddie coyly, leaning in to knock his shoulder against Steve’s hip.

They found out later that night that they both liked a lot of the same things.

They liked how each other sounded when they giggled softly through their first kiss, sitting on the roof of Eddie’s trailer and watching the stars.

They found out they both liked teasing fingertips and gentle pushing and pulling in the right direction.

They found out they both liked to sleep holding hands to ground them against the anxiety that still plagued their little group.

They liked the bubble they created between themselves, and filled it quickly with love.

And now, late into the morning of a blazing hot mid summer day. The phone off the hook since the night before and the walkies designated for emergency use only.

They were lying together, curled up and bordering on too hot under the blanket, listening to the birds.

They listened as the rest of the neighbourhood woke up and spurred to life, cars starting and families yelling.

It was a few weeks since that day at the quarry.

Steve and Eddie had spent every night and most of every day together. They agreed on everything. Well, except pizza toppings, but Eddie would eat all the olives so it was fine. Steve’s dad had once told him that in a business if two people agree on everything, you don’t need to keep them both around.

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie and said a silent prayer that he never tried to treat a relationship like a business. That was his parents’ mistake, he thought.

It was all very new. Some people still didn’t know the true nature of their increased ‘sleepovers’, but Steve was already aghast at the idea of being without Eddie again.

He knew they’d argue eventually. They’d find a tipping point on something that they wouldn’t see eye to eye on. Steve was ready for that day. He didn’t want to think of them ever fighting but he was realistic. Steve just knew he would never make the same mistakes as his parents did, and he’d do everything he could come out the other side with his Eddie still under his arm.

Eddie stirred fully awake when a car horn blared from down the street.

“Mmmmph!” he whined. “They scared the fucking birds away,”

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighed and nuzzled in closer, settling himself in Steve’s neck with a contented hum.

“We doin’ anything today?” murmered Eddie.

Steve stroked his back in long, slow waves.

“Just this,” he whispered.

Eddie nodded, and his body soon went lax as he he drifted back to sleep.

Steve felt like crying, in fact he thought he might. He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose into Eddie’s hair. Steve was almost surprised at the overwhelming wave of contentment that crashed over him.

Years spent feeling guilt for not ‘enjoying the sun’ were slowly ebbing away. How could he feel bad over what he was doing now? How could the love, and safety he felt now, be bad?

Steve selfishly thought he would sacrifice ever seeing the sun again, if every morning was like this.

And it had been, hadn’t it? For weeks now. Steve woke up feeling just like this, for weeks.

Steve smiled to himself and tightened his hold on Eddie’s body. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he settled himself into his pillow.

The birds returned and resumed their song.

And for hours, Steve listened.

[catchafallingreg]

Juice from a mango

Jegulus microfic 1,713 words nsfw

Outside, the sun burned hotter than Regulus has ever had the pleasure to experience, he lays under a small tree with fruit hung low on its branches.

James land in Mexico held a garden, nothing too large but big enough for a variety of fruit trees: mangos, guavas, nanches, lemons, limes. He had bushes of roses, and other types of flowers Regulus liked to bend over and smell but didn't bother to learn their names.

It was a stay in kind of day, they didn't have anything planned but to laze around, James was inside doing who knows what, and Regulus was enjoying the suns heat shining through the trees branches, until he felt his husbands presence next to his head, he didn't open his eyes but he heard the rustling of leaves and the small break of fruit and stem. Still kept his eyes closed as he felt James walk away, heard more leaves rustling, another tug at branch making him think another fruit was taken from tree, heard as James placed whatever fruit he collected close to Regulus and again he heard James's footsteps retreating. About two minutes later the footsteps returned heard James take a seat, noise of plastic clattering.

Finally, Regulus sat up with eyes open as the smell of freshly cut fruit surrounded him, James was cutting two limes and two mangos, Regulus just watched, it was all so pretty, golden brown hands near such colorful fruit.

“You ever had mango con tajin?” James broke silence.

“With what?”

“Tajin. It’s a Mexican powder you put on fruit. Though sometimes I just eat it out of the bottle.”

James placed all the freshly cut mango in a container, squeezed the lime, and began to completely coat the yellow fruit in tiny red flakes, Regulus hadn’t noticed the bottle earlier, James closed the container and began to shake it, mixing the fruit, lime, and powder.

“Here, try some.”

Regulus had a weak stomach when he first met James, he loves the food he grew up with, will forever praise his bland food- doesn’t care what James says. But his time with James has strength his spice tolerance, his ability to eat different kinds of foods and actually enjoy them. Regulus reached into the container and grabbed at the fruit,

“That’s amazing!”

Regulus doesn't understand how but as James took a bite, all he wanted to do was kiss him. Taste the fruit from his lips. He watched. Just watched, trying to make sense of how James eating mango was so fucking hot, watched as juice run down the man's chin, as some tajin lay on his lips.

James ate the fruit, distracted by the blue sky above, poor man was just trying to enjoy his fruit but Regulus couldn’t hold out much longer and he reached over and took the container away from his hands, almost laughed at James’ pout.

“Mi mango, I wasn’t- what are you doing?”

Regulus shuffled closer, until he was sat on his husband’s lap, James’ hands reaching for a waist meant for holding. Regulus grabbed James’ jaw and licked clean the sour sweet juice from mango and lime, “fuck you for making fruit hot.” Regulus tightened his grip on James's chin just to make his lips stick out more, licked over them, collecting the small spice.

Yes, the mango was amazing, all flavors mixed together sour, sweet, spice. But James will always be his favorite flavor. So, mix it all together and you get Regulus acting a starved man.

As Regulus’ tongue demanded entrance, James hands tightened around soft skin pulling Regulus closer, opening his mouth and letting the man on his lap lick into him.

“Mmm, fuck why is it everything tastes better coming from you” James mewled into open mouth.

“You would think by now you’ve learned- open.”

Regulus hips rocked slowly, once, twice. James opened his mouth ready for spit to sit heavy on his tongue but got a piece of lime-soaked mango instead. He ate it slowly letting the flavors coat his mouth. Normally it’s Regulus who likes to drool into James open mouth, but he wanted to taste James, so as he rocked his hips letting friction work between them, Regulus stuck his tongue out, and was happily given what he wanted. James's spit coated his mouth, but it wasn’t enough. He dipped down to bite. Lips crushed together, tongues fighting for more.

James moaned into the kiss as Regulus hips became frantic wanting more.

More more more

James clawed at Regulus shirt, tugging it off followed by his own. Regulus lifted up to remove his and James shorts, naked under hot bright sun. Grass digging into Regulus knees and poking on James's back as he laid down bringing Regulus with him, chest pressed tight together yet still needing to be closer.

They kissed as Regulus reached under him to get a hold of James already filling cock, he was slow in his movements, stroking softly, getting James to buck his hips, a silent plea.

Regulus let him go, breaking the kiss just to lick at his palm and begin again, he wanted James ready, wanted to sit on that pretty cock. But James had other plans, he took a hold of Regulus’ thighs and dragged him up.

Cunt aligned to face. Regulus hands fell next to the sides of James face, hot wet grass below his palms as his thighs shuddered at the thought of tongue pressed on him.

James was hungry, evident in the way he pulled Regulus impossibly closer, nose nuzzled in wet. Mouth wide open as his tongue licked in between soft folds, James rough grip on Regulus ass as he pushed and pulled, clearly asking Reg to move.

Regulus was lost in it all, trying to sit a bit taller just to adjust position, a hand burying itself in soft curls as James found his entrance and slowly slipped his tongue in and out, Regulus doubled over at the sensation of getting to ride James's face. Wet tongue in wet folds, soft moans vibrating into him.

James would drown in Regulus if he could. He loved nothing more than being able to bury his face in between milky thighs.

Eat; Savor everything he could. Remove his mouth from the mans pussy just to bite at the inside of his thighs. Kiss at the bruise the bloomed and start the process all over agin for as long as he could. He bit into him hard enough to draw blood, and Regulus cried out for more.

More tongue, more teeth, more James.

Regulus hand in James's hair tightened, feeling the coil in his belly read to burst. Dizzy with need, Regulus ground his hips into the man's tongue, legs shaky, knees bruised and vision whitening as he came heavy into James's mouth.

James licked him clean as Regulus’ lost himself in his orgasm.

“You taste better than the mango.”

Regulus let out an airy laugh, still loss of breath. “Fuck you” he mumbled as he scoots down to James hips and leaned down for a kiss. James hands always going for Regulus thighs.

Regulus could taste himself on James lips. It was intoxicating, the way their kisses could last forever. They kissed with spit and cum mixing in each other’s mouth. They kissed until James broke it to utter “yes please.” And then diving for more kisses. Hands on Regulus began to move from thighs to hips to ass, adjusting Regulus over his cock, adjusting himself tip to pussy. Trying to go slow so Regulus could adjust to him.

“Fuck baby you're so tight.”

Regulus could only whimper as his pussy stretched for James, he loved the burn of it as he bottomed out, hips to hips. Chest pressed together, kisses never stopping as he rocked forward.

“Let me do it, fuck- please James let me.”

“I’m all yours love.”

Regulus moved up, James's mouth chasing Regulus’ only for a second before he threw his head back as Regulus sat up, hands going behind him holding onto James's thighs as Regulus began to move.

The sun burned. The breeze danced through fruit trees making leaves dance, making wind chimes sing along to birds, the sounds of the pools water. Beautiful music nature provided being drowned out by the sound of skin slapping on skin, wet cunt sliding on cock, and then there were the men themselves.

Regulus would let out the perfect sounds, moans that drove James mad.

James deep grunts as he bucked his hips up into Regulus as the man above came for the second time. James's cock twitched not long after, coming inside the mans pussy.

They laid there unmoving for a minute, trying to catch their breaths. Sticky sweat cooling on Regulus’ back.

“Baby.” James run his hands over Regulus’ waist, lifting him a little just to pull out.

“Ahh fuck- I hate being empty of you.”

“Sorry- “a kiss on Regulus forehead because he deserved it, “-let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

“Yeah okay”

Regulus got off James, looking for the mango. “Fuck you dropped it!”

“Me? You’re the one that kicked it when you got off on my face.”

“Well, who’s the one that put me on their face.”

“It didn't seem to bother you then, are you complaining?”

“About my mango.”

“Baby, look around you, I’ll make you more. Let's just get you inside, I’m afraid the sun is going to eat you up.”

“My sun already did.”

“I thought I was the cheesy one.”

They went back inside, they showered and as Regulus looked for a movie on the tv, James went outside and cleaned up the scattered clothes and spilled mango. He cut more fruit from the tree and went back inside to prepare mango con tajin for his husband.

Regulus ate all the mango and James drank the lime juice. The best part in his opinion. They spent the remaining day inside, James had to spread aloe vera on Regulus’ red back and place a bandaid on his cut knees.

“We’re never having sex out on the grass again, my knees are cut my back burned, and you? You just laid there.”

“Let me do it” James mocked “Love, I have grass burns on my ass.”

“Good.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Snake Eyes 1

Warnings: noncon coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you're excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

The smell of citrus wafts in the air as you slice into a bright green lime. The juice dribbles on your gloves as you bring the knife down over and over through the bumpy skin. You gather it all up in your hands and put it in the metal container.

You peel off the plastic gloves and dump them in the bin, moving the tray to its place in the bar and putting the lid atop it. You continue your prep work, checking the olives and refilling the toothpick dispenser. Thor stands nearby, neatly lining the shelves with the shining clean glasses wheeled in from the kitchen.

Your first week is coming to an end. You’re finally in the routine of it. You find the pre-opening lull to be the most enjoyable time. The servers, the cooks, and bouncers drift in and hang around chatting as they get ready for doors to open.

You go to the other end of the bar to grab a jar of marischino cherry and pause. You can hear voices from the backroom. You try not to eavesdrop but it sounds rather heated. You can’t really discern the syllables but the muffled slam makes you flinch.

“Ah yes, my brother is having his weekly tantrum,” Thor muses as he spins and shoves a few pitchers onto the shelves beneath the bar. “Don’t mind him, he always is finding something to despise.”

You smile at Thor awkwardly. You only met his brother once. The very man who hired you after a brief interview. One which went by so quick, you’re certain he doesn’t even remember hiring you.

“He does take this all rather serious,” Thor chuckles as he straightens his collar, the points wide as his muscled chest peeks out. “Always a bit high strung. You wouldn’t believe he once worked where you do now. He bought out the owner and here we are.”

“Oh, yeah, somehow I can’t picture that,” you murmur.

Thor laughs again, a rumble like thunder, and grabs the empty cart. He wheels it towards the kitchen door as you walk listlessly behind the bar, checking that every tap is clean, every hose is in its place. Hinges whine and a door swings open loudly.

“Fuck you!” Danica bellows as she charges out of the backroom, “fucking asshole!”

You stop and watch her dumbly. Her long legs shine with bronzer as she stomps across the room, her beautiful features contortein anger. She’s one of the several or so bottle girls that serve the private rooms and wears the usual get up; tight black shorts and sparkly croptop. You wonder what’s got her so worked up.

“I fucking quit,” she hollers before she disappears down the stairs.

You watch behind her, stunned. Wow. You weren’t expecting that at all.

“Can’t quit if you’ve already been fired, darling,” Loki’s voice carries after her, tugging your attention back to the doorway. “Gods, these girls.”

You quickly put your head down and pretend to be busy. You check the limes, even as you’ve just put them away. He strides to the other side of the bar and sighs, his shadow watching you until you raise your eyes.

“Hello, sir,” you say, “can I get you something?”

“Martini,” he demands curtly, “dry.”

You nod and quickly go about making his drink. You present it to him in the stemmed glass with the olive and pickled onion skewered on top. He turns it slowly and admires your handiwork. His eyes crawl up and meet yours.

“Come,” he gestures you out from behind the bar, “right here.”

He steps back and sips from the glass.

“Sir?”

“Don’t make me tell you twice or you can follow the other one out.”

You wipe your hands on a towel and lay it on the lower ledge of the bar. You come around as he shifts to face you, keeping his lips on the brim of the martini. He sets it aside as you approach and gives you an appraising look.

“Hmm,” he steps around the stool and grabs your shirt. You cry out as he tucks it under, raising it up your stomach.

“What are you doing–”

“Hush,” he quiets you and grabs the top of your shirt, splitting it for a generous view of your cleavage. You’re too surprised to resist as he reaches around you and undoes the apron, dragging it away from your waist, “very well, you’ll do.”

“What?”

“I’m short a bottle girl, I’m certain you can handle pouring,” he tosses the apron over the bar. “Tips are better, anyhow.”

“But, I need–” You point over the bar.

“Consider it a promotion,” he interjects as he checks his watch, “I’ve some very special guests arriving in the Cobra Lounge soon.”

“Sir, I–”

“Figure it out,” he flicks away your protest, “or you might consider updating your CV.”

[beyondthesefourwalls]

https://www.tumblr.com/beyondthesefourwalls/713811684219830272/allis-tgm-blurb-party

Rooster

Bronco

Eyes on me

Take two on getting this posted, because the Hell Site decided to ✨not work✨ when I tried earlier. I cheated a little and combined these two asks because they worked too perfectly together to not. @malakaiblacksgirl1989 and @diorrfairy I hope you like this!

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warnings: language, smut, sex in a public place, filth

Vodka Cran, Add Lime

Bradley knew a few things with certainty. The manual to an F18. Edwin Jackson played for the most MLB teams. Hummingbirds are the only bird that can fly backwards. Drinking water is good for you. 

But perhaps the thing he was most certain of, was that the two of you would not be making it out of the Hard Deck parking lot. 

His back slammed against the driver’s side door to the Bronco, the handle digging into his back, but he was too distracted by the feel of your mouth on his and your hands down his pants to care. You tasted like vodka and cranberry juice with maybe a hint of lime and it was suddenly the best taste he had ever experienced. He hissed when your tiny hand wrapped around his length, pulling it free from his jeans and boxers for easier access. The cool night air did nothing to stamp how hot he felt. He needed to be inside of you.

He fumbled to get the door open, only separating from you long enough to climb into the driver’s seat. You were right there as soon as he settled. He pushed your skirt up and groaned as you straddled his lap, his dick caught beneath your clothed pussy. You started rocking against him immediately, creating some delicious friction. 

“Are we doing this now?” you panted against his mouth, “Right here?” 

In response, he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your soaked panties and pulled so hard the flimsy lace snapped. You whimpered at his display of strength and raised your hips just enough to allow him to drag his length along your pussy, coating himself in your wetness before guiding himself inside of you. You were so fucking tight around him and he knew he should have spent more time prepping you, that you would be certainly be sore in the morning, but neither of you seemed to care. You tucked your face into his neck as he stretched you, moaning in delight. You gave an experimental roll of your hips that had you whimpering, but repeating the motion nonetheless. 

“Bradley.” 

His name escaping you in that breathless, cockdrunk way had him growling. One big hand gripped your hip as the other wound its way into your hair, pulling your head back so he could see your face. There was nothing he loved more than seeing the different emotions flick across your features as he brought you pleasure. 

“Eyes on me,” he demanded. The command had you squeezing around him, your juices leaking out around him. “Are you ready?” 

It was your last opportunity to slow him down or stop him, but you didn’t. Instead, you nodded desperately, a breathy “yes” leaving your lips. The last of his control snapped and he was pistoning his cock in and out of you. Your moans filled the interior of the Bronco, the windows already fogging up, and suddenly Bradley knew something else for certain: you were going to come for him, he was going to fill you up in return, and no one would ever make him feel the way you did. 

word count: 524

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Wanna participate in the party? See details here.

[damnbluewires]

stinging nettle pesto pasta with dandelion crisps!

i foraged and i experimented with what i had, and this result legit made me think i wasnt supposed to find this out cos it FUCK SEVERELY.

ingredients:

- dandelion leaves

- stinging nettle leaves

- wild garlic (or usual)

- pasta

- olive oil

- spices

- feta or goat cheese (i didnt have but its like the only thing i feel like is missing here. i used dry milk to get some of that dairy taste in there)

preparation:

to get dandilion crisps you roughly cut the leaves, drizzle in oil, put salt and the spices you want in there (i used paprika, oregano, and just a touch of sugar). mix, spread on a rack, and in the oven on mid heat and a fan if you have it, so they crisp up rather than burn (mine burned and it was still fine in the dish tho)

with the nettles i splashed them in boiling water so i could handle them, then separated the leaves from the stem and let dry on a towel. you dont really need to dry if youre gonna make it right away. then i put it in a blender with a few buds of wild garlic as well as few leaves, salt, rosemary, pepper, basically anything you want. i also added a touch of lime juice, dry milk and a touch of sugar. add water enough so it blends as fine as your blender can handle.

put preffered pasta in a pan, slush in your pesto, and add some water, enough for the pasta to absorb (tip: rinse your blender and put that water in). add some olive oil and cook until the pasta is done to your liking.

plate and sprinkle your crisps and white cheese on top. eat and be amazed!

[auckie]

Ok no actually I wanna hear your Trader Joe’s opinions I’m really into the orange strawberry banana juice, the bruschetta sauce, the cranberry lime juice sparkling water and cinnamon schoolbook cookies

You and I agree on the CLSW (cranlime sparkling), haven’t tried the others but I’ll look into them. The normal lime one is also amazing on its own, as well as a mixer for both alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks. Summer must!

There’s so much shit I’m obsessed with, I’ll try and list the most important ones

English crumpets

Mango kefir

Brown sugar oat creamer

Chocolate oat milk

Simpler wines brand sparkling white canned wine

Pfeffernüsse

Chocolate babka

Brioche sliced bread

Danish Kringle

Pinks and whites shortbread cookies

Joe Joe’s gluten free classic Oreo knock off cookie

Madras lentils (boxed kind is good too)

Canned giant baked beans in tomato sauce

The non joes brand oat milk coffee and kombucha but you can get those anywhere

Their candles, two in one grapefruit mint hair wash (I despise two in one products but this one doesn’t foam and is more of a cleansing conditioner I use in between shampoo and regular conditionings), and many other non food items. I’ve bought their towels, seasonal decor (usually those felt garlands), face lotions and oils. Loved all of them. Usually I only restock on the lotion, hand soap, and lavender laundry bags. Their detergent is nice tho, and I’ve also gotten their wool laundry balls but you really only ever gotta buy them like once. They also usually have pretty cute cards at the checkout! I like their cheaper flowers too, but there’s also a lot of very cute seasonal items they carry that I just can’t justify buying bc of price (have you seen their felt sunflowers? So adorable)

Simpler times potato chips

Crispy Crunchy Champignon Mushroom Snack

Fruit leather bars

Dried orange rings

Lox (labeled as smoked salmon iirc)

Both their Tunisian and kalamata olive oil

Vodka sauce

Roasted red pepper and tomato canned soup

Canned vegetable soup

Gone bananas chocolate covered frozen bananas (gone berry crazy strawberries are good too but like a dollar or two more expensive)

Jasmine rice in the frozen isle

Lime popsicles

Steak and stout meat pie

Pastry Bites Feta Cheese & Caramelized Onions

Canned tuna*

*especially with the gluten free microwaveable mac n cheese (I’m not gluten free if you’ve noticed, I literally just prefer some of their gluten free products. Same with the oat milk. I’m not lactose free but I just really like it)

Most of the frozen wontons I’ve tried

Chimichurri rice (goes great with the aforementioned roasted red pepper box soup, and chopped onions, green peppers, and spinach cooked in a wok)

Chicken sausage

Butternut squash gnocchi, iirc the potato gnocchi is good too

Most of their dried pastas

Almond and chocolate filled frozen croissants

The bars of chocolate you find at the check out that come in packs of threes

The weird meat sticks at the checkout too

Frozen hashbrowns

For whatever reason, their frozen green beans and asparagus is so much better than other generic brands I’ve tried

Any of the canned olives but esp the kalamata

Sun dried tomatoes

The produce is okay, a little pricey but they had brown Mexican tomatoes once that fucked hard. The herbs trustworthy too but really where is it not

Any of their chocolate covered nuts

Their fucked up chocolate covered chips, sometimes found in their snack mixes

Peanut butter pretzel snacks

Their dried seaweed isn’t my fav, but it’s not bad. I think it’s overpriced tho but tbf I usually get huuuge, less flavored packs from Costco

Pine nuts but good Gd are they expensive

They have cute, weird heirloom hybrid squashes during the fall a lot too that are pretty tasty

Things I’ve gotten from there that I hated? I didn’t like their orange chicken, ANY of the cereals I’ve gotten from there oddly enough, their pecorino Romano only comes grated and mixed iirc and I didn’t care for it. Some of their beers have made me scowl but also those are all random brands. But their wine (yes, even SHAW. But shoutout to coco bon red blend and blue fin moscato RIP!) has never does me wrong…except for any other flavor of the simpler wines canned ones. I can only do the sparkling white and literally no else I've forced to drink it has liked it! some of their salads have done me wrong. the canned chickpeas and dolmas were off. and some of their pricy juice mixes left me a bit disappointed.