#its like not around as much as say lemon chicken

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Continuity Error 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you are the resident tech and fly on the wall, until you're not. (short!reader)

Characters: Thor, this reader is known as Stormie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Everything is neat and tidy and separate. Like everything in your life. The bento box divides rice from even slices of grilled chicken, another unit of edamame and some greens in a section of their own. Right on top of your desk with the pen cup of black pens only and the organizer with post-its sorted by colour and size, along with a tin of mint and a single notebook. Orderly.  

Unlike the rabble around you. The office is chaos. It’s noisy. It’s annoying. 

It’s not where you wanted to be in life but you never really figured out the alternative. You just try to get by. Wake up, go to work, do your job, go home, eat. Everything is precise and routine. You don’t miss a beat. Just keep going. 

That day is no different than the ones before. Fefe makes eyes at Mr. Odinson as he walks in with one of his clients. They’re all the same. Sometimes you suspect they aren’t there for business with the way they chat up the assistants. It’s not your concern; you only care when they open a spam link or forget to plug in their monitor. Work is simple. 

You mind business and people mind theirs. They don’t remember you’re there until they need help. They don’t make small talk. You don’t either. What good is that? Just wasting time when you can fix their problem in less than a minute. You learned your lesson when that guy in the glasses keep winking. 

You chew your chicken. You forgot lemon juice in your sauce. A rare oversight. 

You take small bites. A bite of chicken. Then rice. Then edamame. And finally greens. It’s a parade of flavours. You keep the order; chicken, rice, veg... 

When you finish, you get up with the lid and reusable cutlery, stacked on top of the container, and go to the break room to rinse it all out. You take your tip; washing each corner and crevice. You dry the pieces thoroughly and put it all back together. 

“That’s an interesting container,” a deep voice startles you from the doorway. 

You turn as you click the lid firmly into place. You put the container against your chest, hiding it. It’s him. The big burly blond that runs the floor. You wiggle your nose. A compulsion you have yet to unlearn. 

“Sir.” 

“May I see?” He asks. 

As he comes closer you tense up. You don’t like people touching your stuff. You’ll have to resanitize it all and your hands. 

“Unless you’d rather I not,” Mr. Odinson relents and stops a few feet from you, “I only came for a top up.” 

He doffs his mug. The stains of his early brew still around the brim. He goes to the sink and rinses it out. He doesn’t scrub or soap it before he wipes it dry quickly and puts it on the tray of the single-serve machine. That’s exactly why you don’t touch the coffee station. You bring a thermos with cinnamon tea; it keeps warm all day long. 

You nod and head for the door.  

“Are you the replacement?” He asks. “I recall you looking much different.” 

You stop and shake your head, “tech, sir.” 

“Ah, yes, I remember now. The one in the corner,” he says as he clucks and squints at the selection of boxes. “Would you a recommendation?” 

You waver. You just want to go to your desk. Your nose twitches again. 

“I don’t drink coffee.” 

“Tea? My brother is preferential to it as well.” 

You’ve dealt with his brother. Down a few floors. Not very pleasant but asks a lot less questions. 

You nod. He looks at you and brushes his fingertips along his golden beard. He’s a very large man but you suppose next to you, anyone is. 

“I should go back to my desk.” 

“And who says so? I am the boss, so far as I know,” he muses. 

You pause before you can flee. Your nose wiggles. His blue eyes catch on the movement. You stare back, unsure what to do. 

“Hm, this Colombian roast looks interesting,” he plucks out a pod. You stand there blankly. You don’t like this. He’s making you feel dumb. He’s getting in the way of your routine. “Are you available to have a look at my computer? It seems I’m having some error with the secure connection. That is, if you can make time for me?” 

As the machine grinds loudly to push your shoulders back. “It is my job, yes.” 

“Perfect, go ahead and wait for me in my office,” he says coolly, his focus on the spout. 

You retreat through the door and flit over to your desk. You open your drawer and shove the container in your bag. You turn and look over at his office door. You slowly make your way between the desks toward it.  

You pause across from the name placque on the door and glance over as Sierra watches you. You cross and push the handle down. You enter warily. You leave the door open and near his large desk. You go around and roll his chair aside. You hate touching other peoples’ things; you prefer to remote in. 

You stand as you wake up the computer. You step back and wait. It’s locked. That’s good. You shouldn’t leave your device accessible. 

Odinson enters with a waft of coffee. He smiles at you and your nose scrunches. “You will need to sign in and you can show me the problem.” You step back. 

He comes around the desk and sets the cup down carelessly. A splash overflows the brim and leaks onto the desk, the coaster forgotten by his mousepad. He pulls his chair closer and sits in it heavily, the wheels squeaking. 

It takes him several tries to login as his thick fingers are almost too big for the keys. When he’s in, he clicks around. You watch him bring up the server portal. He types again. 

“Sir,” you say. “The two-factor authentication requires you to confirm on a secondary device. You need to type in sms and it will send a passcode to your phone or whatever else you’ve set up with the system.” 

“Ah!” He snaps his fingers. “I knew it would be obvious. Clever rabbit.” He pops his index up. 

“Problem solved,” you say and check your watch. Lunch is over. 

“Thank you,” he beams. 

You leave him without another word. You find it hard to believe he was locked out when the security protocol has been in place for well over a year. He needs it every day so why is it suddenly an issue? You shrug. 

Like you said, problem solved. You can go back to your corner. 

[gregorsamsadementiaravenway]

So here are my two cents about Hilda Furacão's ending (and some considerations about the show as whole):

The ending of Hilda and Malthus story is perfect. Actually, their whole story is pretty close to perfection. I do dislike the part with the two farmers that want to marry Hilda, it's just too absurd and tacky for my style, and the airplane thing is a bit much as well, but, apart from that *chef's kiss*. Of course they wouldn't be able to stay together in 1964. @just-an-enby-lemon put it perfectly when they said Hilda and Malthus just couldn't stay together as the military dictatorship was kicking off. The military coup is a moment of triumph for the Loló Venturas and the Father Nelsons of the world, a moment of triumph for the people that put Malthus and Hilda in their boxes and kept them apart for so long. It's not a moment of triumph for young, forbidden love.

Still, Hilda and Malthus do get their happy ending, I think. Roberto never makes it clear whether Malthus remained a priest or not, but even if he did, things are different in 1968. Times are darker than ever, but now he and Hilda are on the same side, and he's not under the influence of his mother and Father Nelson anymore. He's free to be who he wants.

Father Nelson does overstay his welcome in the plot, but I like it when he tells Malthus he would come back after spending time together with Hilda because, at that moment, it is most likely true. It is probably the only true thing he says in the entire series. They wouldn't make it because they're so much alike, impulsive and tempestuous, though Malthus hides it well under his religious facade, and yet they are completely different at that point in time. And the passage of time is key to understanding Hilda Furacão (no wonder the op song is all about it). Time had to do its job to make Hilda and Malthus right for each other.

Politics-wise, Hilda Furacão is not a pro-dictatorship show, but it is also not pro-communist, as I've seen some claim. Actually, it seems quite confused about what it thinks communism is, and I don't say that because of Comrade Zico's communist morals classes, but mainly because of the introduction of Comrade Lorca and his whole being a communist while waving an anarchist flag in one hand and the national flag in another. Sure, we can read that as a stand-in for different groups that tried to resist and were massacred by the military coup and dictatorship, but I don't know if I'm maybe giving Glória Perez too much credit here. She's not exactly a subtle writer.

There are some small elements that betray a more conservative worldview as well, very much in line with the Bolsonaro supporter that Perez would become. Placing a communist guerrila in Brazil pre-coup when actually the first guerrila war started somewhere around 1966 (in Minas Gerais, nonetheless) reeks of pro-military rhetoric to me.

Still, I like the fact that Zico ran away with a bunch of chickens while Bonfim became the guy that died in the guerrila, fighting for his cause and for the end of the military regime.

I loathe everything involving Tunico Mendes, Gabriela, and Aramel. That story is so misogynistic. Along the light homophobia and the lack of Black representation in the show, it's one of the things that make me glad the 90s are gone. I hate how they paint Gabriela as being in the wrong for making the practical choice, I hate how they paint Aramel as being in the right even after he hits her, I hate that Aramel gets his happy ending, I hate that Gabriela gets her ~comeuppance~, hate it, hate it, hate it.

As for other storylines, I found myself caring less and less for them as my interest in Hilda and Malthus grew. I don't care much for what happens in Santana dos Ferros, I don't care for the MC, I care just a little about the communists.

Overall, Hilda Furacão is indeed one of the best fictional shows produced by Brazilian television. It's not a telenovela, though it has telenovela-like elements, but a miniseries, a much more ambitious, prestigious, and expensive kind of project that has been largely abandoned due to the current crisis of the linear TV model. It's a pity. I wish they would make more like it. THOUGH PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE I AM NOT ASKING FOR A REMAKE GLOBO IF YOU REMAKE THIS I AM GOING TO KILL SOMEONE

[igglemouse]

Sunday brings another sunny day to Oasis Springs and my morning, as usual, starts with breakfast. This time chicken and waffles. Taking a syrupy bite of them reveals why these things have been sooo popular for my stand. I'm not sure if it's my own skill that's the result of the sweet and savory flavor combustion on my tongue or the waffle cooking thing I use but either way this dish is definitely a simoleons maker.

I do believe you always enjoy your own cooking or at least there is a good chance for it so I'm sure there is some bias in what I am about to say but I should probably consider raising the price of my dishes.

So part of my big plan is to really lean more into variety. The staples of my stand will of course be waffles and pizza, just because they are easy to make on the spot and who doesn't love waffles or pizza? Could I combine the two and...ah, any way, while I could put out more chicken quesadillas I do have to realize that stocking my stand with that every day is going to make it feel less and less special, so today will be something new! Pan Con Tomate! It being unfamiliar around these parts will help its appeal as the curiosity will draw sims nearer which is the first step to making simoleons.

Food, at its best, is an experience. The first thing one experiences is how it looks so if it looks like garbage then one will hold their nose instinctively and not even want to smell it. If it looks tempting then people will linger a little closer to engage their sense of smell. These two, in my very humble opinion, is what gets someone to take a bite.

Of course the most important sense is taste but you won't get that far if you present garbage.

So, part of my presentation today will be something new and fresh. Along with pizza of course, since you really can never go wrong with pizza!

Pizza takes a bit of time to make and just enough time to work on my hip movement. You might not know this about me but I'm a very good dancer! I think I could have even become a professional at it if I wanted as it is just something that comes to me naturally, especially with the right kind of music. If the tunes can't get my hips swaying then I have no time for it!

My plan, which I'll reveal in a moment, has me brimming with confidence, so much so that I spend a little extra on self care. Slicing up lemons and limes and soaking in my cheap but tolerable tub to just enjoy the moment.

My budget is tight, probably far too restrictive to spend too much on bath bombs and other aromatherapy but like I've mentioned, I'm feeling really good about my stand today and I'm betting that I make my simoleons back...

That's right, it was time to take my stand on the road, specifically, to the heart of the town, Oasis Springs park! Today, the heat is not too overpowering and so there are plenty of people just wandering around looking for something to do and hopefully something to eat. So the park becomes a perfect backdrop for my stand and really, so far at least, a launching pad for my reputation here in Oasis Springs.

I'm not here to just make a few simoleons, I'm also here to make my name. I'll be more than the 'Food Stand' girl.

One great thing about being a chef is that you will never lack for food.

I plan on being here all day, I won't leave until the sun does, and that means for a moment I must retreat from work and take a break. I grab a plate of chicken and waffles and dig in, letting bigger plans and grand ideas settle in my mind.

Honestly, when I moved here, the idea of a humble life appealed to me. I wanted to make just enough to have a roof over my head and food in my belly, everything after that would be a bonus...but now that I've had a taste of success, I want more.

Why settle when more is on the table?

The sun does make its leave and I take the more that is offered to me as I work a little into night and only close up when its clear that I've squeezed the park for every simoleon I could.

The result? Well over 800 simoleons, a massive day, far exceeding the measly 100 simoleon goal I've set for myself.

The park may be empty now but my pockets are full!

I make it home with the success of my day fresh on my mind but not forgetting that I chose work over another day out with Pascal. I recall that after he had a big game he called me and shared the excitement of his victory and so I meant to do the same.

The problem? Well, maybe I've called a little too late but he doesn't sound too enthused at the sound of my voice? I tell him about how well I've sold and while he does congratulate me there is an undertone in his voice that I don't quite like, a hint of indifference that didn't match the sincere joy I shared with him the other day when he discussed his assist goal thingy.

I'm not sure what to think of it, perhaps nothing at all? Sometimes we overthink things, especially with men, you know how they can be? It is also pretty late, nearing ten, and he's an athlete so I'm sure he's tired.

Yes, I think I'm overthinking things, and with an ex-lover slipping back into my life the last thing I should do is complicate things...

Episode List - Episode 3 ‘Work It Out’

[faegoddessog]

 Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch.27/41

Chapter  27: "Don't say I didn't warn you"

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, Unprotected PiV, hand job,

Series Masterlist 

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes  involved here. 

Chapter  27: "Don't say I didn't warn you"

It takes about 10 minutes to recover.  Him from cumming and  you from…well… not cumming. He doesn’t talk, just holds you as he leans on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle. You are snuggled under his chin, ear against his chest, listening to his heart beat and unconsciously matching your breathing to his. 

A timer goes off, and Austin checks the film, the dryer has done its job well. He asks you to turn on the regular light, you both blink in the brightness. He tucks his shirt back in, you smooth your hair and wipe your face again. You both check one another over for tell tale signs of what you have been up to. Satisfied, well he is anyway, you retrieve all your things and open the door. 

“Wow, that was fast, that dryer is a game charger, huh,” says the young attendant,  “let me show you our new scanner?”  He was excited to tell you all about their new very fancy digital scanner when you arrived.  Austin decides to try it. And after being shown the basics, Austin sets to it.

You go in search of snacks, knowing it’ll take a bit. You end up walking around the block down to Austin Street, of all the fucking names in the world,  and getting some pork and chicken skewers with some rice for each of you at a place called Banh Mi Factory.  The walk does you some good, calms you down as you take in people going about their everyday business. 

When you get back about 45 minutes later, Austin is almost done.  He motions you over to see.

You look over his shoulder at the screen as each image comes up. There are several good ones at Natural Bridge; in front of the waterfall, against the tropical trees and rocks. The are like artsy vacation photos. 

Then there are the ones of Goddess You naked in the forest.  In one,  You are laying naked in the water, Your hair is streaming around Your head and Your hands carelessly half covering Your tits. Staring into the camera like You were about to hand out a fucking sword.  It’s amazing. 

“I’m gonna print that one, and a few others here in a minute.” he says, munching a chicken satay skewer.

There are a few of him that you took. One really strikes you. It is of him looking directly at the camera with a shy smile that curls his lip up. So simple, but you need it. 

“Can I have that one?”  he nods and writes it down. 

There are a couple of you in your sexy dress from behind with your arms up. The one with you looking to the side is amazing. The muscles of your back are gorgeously highlighted by the light from the sliding door. You look like an actual model, damn.  

You start giggling at the Charlie’s Angel one, providing the soundtrack for the next one of you laughing. 

“I absolutely love this one, it’s my favorite, ” says Austin, looking up at you, “it’s so very you.” 

You respond with a kiss, then wrap yourself around him from behind. 

The one with you looking down at him, your dress bunched in your hands almost exposing yourself is sexy as fuck. The closeups of your dripping pussy with your own finger inside you, a drop running down your inner thigh look intimately artistic. Then he starts in on the ones of you tied up: you gagged with the rope and your arms tied up above you, one with your ass in the air tied to the ottoman. 

“Wow,” you growl in his ear, “I didn't know looking at myself would be so hot.”

“Um yeah, you are fucking hot Kitten,” he kisses your cheek. 

Once he has them all digitally on a USB stick. He decides to print a handful of these from the negatives, old school. So back into the darkroom he goes. 

You decide to wander the gallery. The exhibit is by a photographer named Alex Buckingham. There is one that just strikes your fancy called “The Dive”. You buy a print, deciding to use it in your Uncle’s remodel.  

The attendant tells you about the tucked away coffee shop across the street. You go sit for a few minutes sipping coffee. You snag one to go for Austin.

When he emerges he looks quite pleased with himself. You hand him his drink. 

“How do you know just what I need, Kitten,” he kisses your cheek. You walk out of there with several 8X10’s in an envelope and a very happy man. 

The uber ride back to the hotel is quiet. Austin looks glued to his phone while you seem to stare out the window shifting uncomfortably in your seat and randomly tapping your hand. To outside eyes it would look like he is inattentive and you are pissed about it. In actuality, Austin is playing with all the settings on the vibe and you are trying viciously not to cum in your already soaked panties. 

Once at the Emporium, Austin stops by the concierge to chat about dinner reservations. You wait a few steps behind, arms crossed and antsy. 

“Good,” he says, placing his hand on your waist and guiding you to the elevators, “we have reservations for 5:45 at a place called Bacchus. So we have about an hour and ½ to get ready.” 

“Good, that should be enough time,” you shoot him a sexy glance. 

As you step onto the elevator, your pussy starts vibrating, hard. You walk to the back corner and turn around. You are antsy; crossing your arms, shaking your leg,  rubbing your  thumb along your lip. You must look like some kind of drug addict. Well, Austin is a fucking stimulant, as hot as he is leaning up against the opposite back corner, just watching you with those sexy blue eyes, a tiny, amused smile on his mouth. 

Fuck. As soon as the door closes, you are going to pounce on him. You may not make it all the way to the suite before your clothes are off.

Unfortunately, a person steps into the elevator with you at the last second. They smile at you and turn around pushing their floor. Austin looks at his phone. Changing the pattern of the vibe and watching you out of the corner of his eye. 

The buzzing is starting to make you feel a little numb, which is honestly a good thing since you are so turned on. What might that 3rd person do if you just started humping Austin in the elevator? You are seriously considering it when you hear a ding and they get off  a couple floors below yours.  

The second the elevator doors close you rush, crashing  together in the middle of the elevator, lips, chests, hands. 

“Fuck, turn it off,” you beg. He quickly does. His mouth is on your neck, sinking his top teeth into the meaty part. It makes your knees buckle under you. 

“I want you to know,” he whispers in your ear, holding you up, “that before this day is over,  I am going to have filled all three of your holes with my cum before I let you have your orgasm.” He shows you his phone, he has set a 45 minute timer, “but that’s all the time we have right now.” 

DING! Challenge accepted. 

The doors open and there is a handsome man in a well cut business suit waiting for the elevator. He takes in the disheveled sight of you both and flashes Austin a knowing smile before stepping aside to let you out. 

“Hello,” you say and wink at him as you walk by, leading Austin by the hand to your door.

He nods his head. Just before the doors close you hear, “Have fun.”  

“Oh we will’ says your demon, loud. You hear a laugh behind the elevator door. 

Once you are inside the suite, you turn around to Austin, he pulls you in for a deep kiss. 

You are so horny, you can control neither the shaking of your hips, nor the moans that his kiss swallows. 

Then his hands are unzipping your dress, stopping to unhook your bra half way and pulling both off your shoulders to fall to the ground around your now bare feet. His clothes soon follow. 

“Spread your legs,” he says, one finger gliding along the inside of your waistband, his other hand  pressing your back to the wall. Slowly, he pulls your sodden panties gently away from your vulva, “Good lord Kitten, I’ve never seen you this sopping wet before you’ve cum.”

He undoes the magnet and fishes the vibe out from between your lips. His fingers brushing against your inner lips and your clit make you whimper and scoop your pelvis towards him in a silent appeal for more. He brings the wet toy up to his mouth trailing a long line of juices from its tip,  and licks it off. Wrapping his tongue around it and teasing you, he knows you would rather he drink straight from the source. 

He places the vibe on the entry table, then strips off your panties, leaving the drenched unicorns on the pile of clothes. 

You can’t stand being this close, naked, and not have him buried inside you. You pull his head down to kiss him while pushing him backwards across the room. His hands are on your backside, kneading your ass. 

He sits down when he hits the bed. You don’t stop pushing him, crawling on top of him as he scoots to the middle and lays down. 

“Turn around, I want you to watch,” he indicates the wall across from the bed that is all mirrors. You turn around, straddling his hips as he holds his hard cock upright.  

“Oh yes, this, this is what I fucking need!” you moan as you slide down on him. After so much buzzing all day, the sensation of being filled feels incredible. 

You rock back and forth on him, grinding him deep into you, moaning. You lift up as far as your bent legs will let you, watching him slide out of you. He grabs your arms, pulling them to your low back. He holds them there, pushing to support your back. 

“Watch as I fuck you,” he commands. 

In the mirror, you see yourself arched back, your tits  pressed forward. He starts with slow strokes, flexing his glutes.  It is blissfully agonizing to watch him slide in and out of you as he thrusts his hips up, knowing you won’t have release from it. 

It is erotic to watch.  You see now why people video themselves fucking. You wish there was a camera set up now. 

 He speeds up. Your breath comes faster. Your head falls back. It feels so good. 

“No, watch,” he tilts your head forward. 

He starts pounding you hard, knees bent, using his feet for leverage. You start to squeal as you feel an orgasm building, building. Your demon considers not telling him and just cumming. But no, that’s not the fun of this game,  you tell her.  

“Oh fuck Austin, I’m gonna cum,” you declare as your demon rattles her chain.

He pulls out as you rise up and pitch forward between his legs, ass in the air.  Breathing to try to regain some control. You really want to play this game, but you are not sure how much more you can take. 

“Oh Kitten, that’s gorgeous,”  he says after a minute or two. You feel fingers petting you from behind, running on either side of your labia, then applying pressure so your lips swell outwards. Then another finger is stroking those puffed lips. You moan and squirm into his touch. You can feel his other hand moving on his cock, rubbing the tip in your wet folds.

 Reaching through your legs, you grasp him, still wet with your juices. You slide your hand up and down. 

He pushes that finger inside your exposed slit, pressing down.

“Oh god yes,” you moan as he slides across your g-spot. Your hand grips his dick tighter. 

“Let’s see how much you can take before you make me stop,” he says, slipping another finger in and starting to move across that toe curling site. As he speeds up, making sloppy, squashy sounds. You feel flecks of moisture spattering his cock. Jesus, it's amazing. 

“Careful,” he taps your hand on his cock. Realizing you were gripping rather tight, you let go of his dick.

You start rocking back and forth on his fingers, moaning into the covers. “Oh, Oh, OH!” each time you impale yourself. 

He rubs his thumb  side to side on your clit, you squeal “FUCK!” and pull away from him shaking. 

“That was fucking close,” you blow out, trying not to clench your pussy. 

“Come up here baby and turn around,” he says, hands coaxing your hips back towards him. You turn around, straddling him, his cock jutting out between your legs. 

“Austin, if you fuck me right now, I am going to cum,” you say seriously. 

“Alright,” he reaches for the lube on the bedside table, “then stroke me.”

 He drizzles a little lube on his tip. With him in your hand, it looks like it’s your own cock you are  about to jerk off. It’s fucking hot. 

“When I’m close, I am going to fuck that pussy, I want it full before we leave again,” he puts his hands behind his head so he can watch you. God you love when he talks dirty like that. 

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, starting with simple up and down caresses in a light fist. Maybe focusing on him for a while will help you calm down.  

‘Unlikely,’ whispers your demon, ‘ just look at him.’ SHHHH!

“A little tighter,” he says. You comply.  “Uh huh, like that.”

After a dozen or so strokes, you slide your hand up and over his tip and down between your first and middle finger. His stomach contracts a little, his abs popping out then relaxing back. 

“Oh lord, that, do that,” he moans. You sprinkle ‘that’  in between the long strokes on his shaft.

“Faster now,” he instructs, licking his lips and curling back up to watch you jerk him off. 

Your pace increases.  You steady him with your other hand at the base and add in a little twist toward the tip. His front teeth are savage against his full bottom lip. Holy fuck he looks hot, your juices threaten to drip onto his balls. 

“I need a little more lube,” he says.

 You stop and let a long drip of saliva fall into your hand. 

“Oh fuck, that was hot, babe,” his voice is a whispered staccato.

The level of his arousal and your current control of it, is intoxicating. 

‘You are on top here,’ your succubus tells you, ‘ you are in control of his orgasm, he is your quarry.’ Your eyes narrow and the corner of your mouth curls up in a demonic smile.

After a couple minutes you can feel him getting close. To the delight of your succubus, you stop. Taking your hands off him, his cock bounces, red and swollen, against his stomach.  

 His face is a mix of confusion, concern, and betrayal. 

Your demon suddenly wishes he was tied up so you could really fuck with him. Visions of  bringing him to the edge over and over again while he is bound and helpless flash in your mind’s eye.  Then watching as the slightest touch spurts his cum onto… 

He reaches for himself, you lean forward and clamp down on his wrists. Hovering over him on all fours, you tease him with your pussy, rolling your hips back and forth, spreading his cock with your juices. Damn it feels good to be on top.

“Beg me,” you say with your wicked grin, “beg me to make you cum.”  You see him weighing his options. He pushes against your grip a little, you are stronger than he realized. Yeah, he can overpower you if he wants, especially with lube on your hands. But what fun is that? 

“Please,” his voice is strained, “please make me cum inside you.” 

You lean down to his ear and whisper, “that’s a good boy,” and lightly lick his earlobe. 

You let go of his wrists and sit back, pulling his throbbing dick up between your legs. Licking between your thumb and forefinger then wrapping them in a ring around his head you slip up and down rubbing his sensitive ridge and frenulum.  The first three fingers  and thumb on your other hand are below, gliding on either side of his shaft, hands working in concert.

His eyes go huge, pupils dark with desire. His mouth hangs open in an exhale.

You speed up as his breath huffs from him and his abs flex tight. His hands are gripping your knees, ready in case you let him go again. His eyelids flicker  over his rolled back eyes, his head droops back. 

You slow down.

His head snaps up.

“I’m so close, please,” he says through gritted teeth, “please don’t stop.”  You rise up and sink him into your pussy.

“Omigod you are so hot inside,” his body shakes under you.

His hands grip your hips like steel, pulling you down onto him as he furiously plunges in and out of you. You want to clamp down on him, but it feels too good and you know it’ll make you cum. You are miraculously still willing to play the game now that you got a little control back. 

“That’s it, cum for me baby, fill me with it,” you urge him on, your voice pitching higher as pleasure winds tight inside you.

He thrusts half a dozen more times into you. Each thrust  pushes you farther to the edge, making you bite your lip and moan. Each thrust punctuated by a syllable “So. Fu-cking. Good. Kit-ten.”  The last is followed by a deep thrust hard into you. Growling out a prolonged ‘nnnnn uggghhh’ as his abs pull him up towards you. He is shaking  and gritting his teeth as he shoots his load into you.

He collapses back on the bed, sweat popping up on his brow, chest heaving. 

“Well, that was fun,” you say after he gets a few big breaths in. You feel him clench and his cock bounces against your g-spot, making you  shiver on top of him.  His lip curls into a smile. 

You pull off of him, cum still inside you and lay down next to him, head on his sweaty chest. Your demon settles down now that she got a little authority back. 

He puts his arms around you, holding you tight against him and sighs. “Thanks babe, I’ve hit the jackpot of girlfrien…zzz.” Then he is snoring.  Boys. 

Wait, did he just call you his girlfriend? I mean… fuck what does that mean? Was it a post-coitus  Freudian Slip? Is that a thing?  Did he mean it?

‘ Okay, well, you kind of are, in like everything but title,’ your demon chimes in. 

Huh? 

‘ Well duh, you feed him, you fuck him, you put him to bed…. You fuck him more, he fucks you more… over and over…. Mmmm, yummy. He takes you on a romantic weekend getaway. He buys you expensive dresses ."

 She is making too much sense, despite the lecherous interludes. 

Ok just ONE dress! And he actually says ‘I love you’… and you love him. His favorite picture of you is of you laughing like a loon.  You start to smile. 

 ‘Yup,’ your demon says, ’ See, girlfriend.’

 Shit. 

But is it though? Is it shit? Are you not the happiest you’ve ever been in your whole life? Does he not make you giddy when he walks into the room? 

‘Does he not check all your sex boxes and then some?’ you can almost see the light glint off her horns. Randy little imp. 

You have to admit that listening to his heart beat in this moment, curled up against his chest feels like the very thing you have been steering blindly towards your whole life. Maybe it’s time to take off the fucking blinders. Scary. 

‘What are you so afraid of?’

The future

‘There is only one way to get out of the future, and we already faced that shit. Next!’

 Of being hurt. Of hurting him. 

‘Ppffft, you know that’s just a risk of love and part of being human. You are stronger than that.’

I’m afraid of being too tied down to accomplish all I want to do.

‘Fear is the mind killer.’ Dammit, no fair bringing DUNE into this! 

‘Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration’ .  

You take a big breath in and blow it out.  FUCK. She is right, little bitch. 

“I will face my fear,” you whisper into his pectoral muscles. He stirs and holds you closer. 

Wow, that is the most help your inner demon has ever been. Who knew she was more than just a sex fiend. 

‘Layers baby, I got layers’

You fucking love her. 

Your mini anxiety attack abated, you decide to jump in the shower and use the enema bottle you brought to get good and clean. After all, you know what’s coming. 

When you get out, you hear his alarm going off in his pants in the pile of clothes. 

“Hey hunny, it’s time to get ready to go,” you pat his chest on your way to turn off the alarm. 

“Hey baby,” he stretches, ”you back?” 

“Huh?” you say, confused.

“Well that demon was here fucking me and she is something to contend with,” he smiles at you.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. She likes to play, especially with you.” 

[pjulian]

Lilac Patisserie - Aptly named for gay nerds

In the mood for some gay brunch and pastry, Saturday morning brought us to the ever fancy “lilac patassery,” as julian calls it.

Like many white people coffee spots in the area, I had been wanting to try it out for a while. A decently long line of people awaited as we got there.

They seem to have a large collection of cakes and tarts and things that made me want to pee myself or something. Truly tempted by the lemon cheesecake but the lemon merengue tarts captured me more. Lemon will always be seductive to me.

Anyways, a cute $80 pricetag for two mains, the tart and two lattes and we were seated.

A wonderfully gay man informed me and julian that he would “recommend that we cut the tart” after he watched us nearly break our forks trying to take bites. Tart pictured here, post destruction:

Things came out pretty quickly, lattes following soon after. I always enjoy cute latte art, although they gave me the GIRL design. Just kidding. The lattes were a decent size, julian’s was his coveted mocha, mine was a caramel latte.

Unsure if caramel meant sea salt caramel? A sip of mine tasted almost salty, however it was quickly fixed with a sugar packet. Very good afterwards.

Post-latte was only another few minutes until the food came out. I got the classic breakfast, something delightfully american. julian got his favorite french toast.

The breakfast was good. Being a bakery, they had some thick fluffy bread for toast which was its own experience. A little sugary for my taste but, good nonetheless. The potatoes were my favorite part, mostly nice and soft and well seasoned (with the exception of one half raw piece). That being said, Lilac makes an interesting decision to pair the potatoes with a sea of roasted onion and bell pepper. Honestly I didn’t even touch the onions, not wanting to deal with the monstrosity of onion breath for the rest of the year. The apple chicken sausage offered was a little bland, but good. Not an exceptional amount of flavor but I just love sausage. Overall the food was decent but not spectacular.

Most of the points for this place come from the atmosphere. Nice lavender walls and a really clean and dainty french feel. I don’t know how often i can justify a full breakfast at the price point but it’s definitely a place to return to. Campy and gay enough for me!

★ ★ ★ ★ / 5

Warm wishes,

pj

Read julian’s thoughts on his food below ⬇️

i was most surprised by the speed of the service as pj already pointed out, everything was delivered to us pretty quickly and paced out well. the tart itself i enjoyed but im also not really one for messy food and the gay guy telling me how to cut the thing was embarrassing so i cant really give it too glowing of praise but its also a pretty personal thing, if you like creamy desserts and gay men humiliating you then its probably great. the mocha was good just a little too sweet, i prefer it a bit more bitter but again thats personal taste it was still very good. i liked the leaf on it was very sad when i drank it to the point of complete dissolution.

the french toast was served with a cup of butter, syrup, and a side of assorted fruit. pretty average presentation but strawberries with french toast is like crack to me so i cant bring myself to care too much, dont need anything too exotic to enjoy the meal with.what definitely surprised me though was that i typically hate blueberries but the ones served here were actually great with a very consistent ripeness and sweetness to the point that it may have turned me around on the fruit a little. like sorry blueberries i didnt realize you could taste like that. the toast itself was pretty decent too although i wish it was served with a little more syrup, it was like a tiny cup i need the whole gallon.

despite lilacs pattassery not entirely aligning with my autistic inclinations id say it was a pretty good dining experience overall especially if youre normal. you got to hand it to white people. but only sometimes. id give it 3.5 stars out of 5.

best regards,

julian

Lilac Patisserie: 3.75 ★

[gabessquishytum]

Hi so the last time I shared the smut, the reply I got was so inspiring I was yeeted into a void of actually working on fic so that's where I've been. But today I have vision for anyone on the Hob humiliation train. 

CW: ovi mentions, object insertion 

Maybe this all kicks off because Hob's been begging to carry eggs and Dream's making him prove he can, or maybe Dream's just playing with him because he wants blushing ruined Hob knowing he's only Dream's now forever. 

Anyway so. Dream pushing heavy, polished metal egg toys into Hob once he's finished with his waking body for the night, so that he sleeps with them inside him. Maybe he's awake for them being inserted, maybe not. Either way he wakes up in varying degrees of fullness, never knowing what's inside him, how big, how many. He can feel them moving inside him, rubbing against each other and making him gasp when they hit just right. The rules are, they have to stay inside him until Dream says, if he's going to get what he wants. 

But the thing is, lately, Dream's been using chicken-egg sized toys and Hob. Can't. They just fall out of him when he stands up, if he loses concentration for a moment, and sometimes even if he's trying his hardest to keep them in. They're just not big enough to stay inside him with the way Dream's dick has ruined him. And he feels so hot and humiliated about it, it's not like they're small toys by the average person's standards. He begs Dream for bigger toys, which, he's always doing that anyway but this time he's really desperate. He can't take another incident of one of the toys falling out of his underwear in the grocery store.

So Dream gives him bigger toys, maybe they're lemon sized now. But he has to take at least three now at all times and they're heavy. Maybe it's worse trying to keep them inside but they're a little bit less likely to escape his underwear if he wears briefs, at least. In fact sometimes it's kind of nice, he can sort of fuck himself on them if he sits just right. It takes Dream a minute to catch on to that, not being a fan of underwear himself, and then he decides it's boxers only for Hob and the problem starts all over again. He's locking himself in his office trying to push his escaped toys back inside, get them far enough into himself that he buys a bit more time before he's right back there again. His hole is just. So ruined. 

After a truly uncomfortable staff meeting where he processes nothing at all that's said because he's trying to find a way to sit on the hard chair in a way that will nudge one of the toys back into him, Dream says he can have a choice. Keep trying with his current toys, maybe some days Dream will give him larger ones that don't take so much work but then they might make it hard to walk, or he can have a spiked toy that will definitely stay put inside him. Blunted spikes, they won't actually injure him, but he'll feel it and he'll be so sore by the end of the day, and getting fucked will be a whole experience. What a position to be in just because he's such a slut for Dream's cock. 

Love, 0.0

This vision... its so beautiful, so hot and SO inspired, I'm not sure I can even add anything. You've absolutely stunned me, I'm sitting here like an absolute fool.

The spiked toy is just so fucking evil in the best way, because it's definitely not going to come out... but it does move around a whole lot, bumping into all sorts of sensitive places until Hob feels bruised and battered from the inside, and sitting down is agony. His more prostate is throbbing with pleasure-pain and he's leaking all over his underwear yet again (but hey, at least there isn't a silicon egg stuck between his ass cheeks...). Maybe the toy is big enough that he has to loosen up his belt a bit because it's probing against his insides so insistently it's actually showing through his skin.

The main problem is that he's forced to give up the pleasure of being able to push the eggs out and then in again, which was kinda part of the fun. He complains about it to Dream, who gets this sort of evil smirk on his face and asks why on earth he can't at least try to push the spiked toy out, too? And Hob’s brain is like NOPE but his dick is like YES because he's the world's horniest slut. So Dream opens him up a bit (you know, just enough to get a fist inside) and Hob gets to spend the next hour or two wiggling around and trying to get the toy out with no hands and no more help from Dream.

I'm SO excited to hear that you're working on a fic!! Thank you for sharing this gem with us <3

[edugoabroad]

One of the first things we think about when we land in a new place, with all the abundant and wonderful possibilities it inhabits, is food. Nothing elicits joy or dismay, brings people together or polarises them quite like food. Landing up in Germany, particularly to study in Germany, comes with its own anxieties -the newness of it all can be both exciting and daunting. In this scenario, nothing brings a dash of much-needed comfort and helps you immerse yourself in the local culture quite like food. Food, in the larger context, enables you to understand the history that shaped the cultural landscape of said country, and relate with the prevalent culture.

When it comes to mouthwatering food, Germany has plenty to go around. In this blog, we shall highlight some must-try dishes that you must give a go! So while you’re excitedly waiting for your German student visa to arrive, you can trust us to whet your appetite by listing some amazing dishes that you would fall in love with and come to crave throughout your student life in Germany.

Don’t worry - if meat, eggs or even dairy are a big no-no for you, we’ve got you covered! Without further ado, let’s dive right in.

1) Halloumi Im Brot

A semi-hard, unripened cheese made from a concoction of goat and sheep milk, the origins of Halloumi are said to lie in Cyprus although Egypt has also laid claim to it. Bit of a "who came first - the chicken or the egg" conundrum right there and the debate continues to rage, but one thing's for certain - it's delightfully scrumptious.

Over centuries, Halloumi went from being a staple in Cypriot to a celebrated ingredient to many a delicacy across the Mediterranean and the world. Halloumi im Brot, in particular, refers to a sandwich which features a grilled or fried halloumi. Combining the homeliness of bread with the savoury, rich elements of halloumi, the dish also features vegetables like tomatoes, cucumbers, and lettuce along with a drizzle of olive oil or a squeeze of lemon juice. This dish is hearty while encompassing a variety of flavours and textures.

Fun fact: In 2021, the European Union granted halloumi Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) status, ensuring that only cheese produced in Cyprus following traditional methods can be labelled as "halloumi."

It’s super duper healthy too, and has plenty to offer in the protein and calcium department, so feel free to help yourself to a few!

2) Sauerkraut

This one’s especially for the meat-connoisseurs and the trivia lovers - Sauerkraut has been an essential sidekick to plenty of incredible meat-based dishes. It is essentially fermented cabbage, although in present-day there’s a chance you might mostly find the pickled variety. It bears a distinct sour flavour and given that it is made from lactic acid, forming from bacteria that ferments sugars present in the cabbage leaves.

What’s in it for the trivia lovers, you’d say. Well, it’ll come as a surprise to you, but Sauerkraut isn’t from Germany! It was actually conceived in China 2000 years ago by workers who were only provided with shredded cabbage and rice to fend for themselves. They began to store their food in rice wine, which helped with extending shelf life while also landing themselves a nutritious, highly durable source of nutrition. When you’re hungry and need something to keep you going while being inundated with assignments and deadlines, Sauerkraut should keep you in good stead and give you a loaded dose of dietary fibre, Vitamin C, Iron, and Potassium with each serving.

3) Spätzle

While it remains an ever-favourite in Germany, Spätzle isn’t exactly well-known outside of the country. If you’re craving something rich, cheesy and buttery, these fresh egg noodles should make your tummy extremely happy. In theory, the dish is redolent of mac & cheese, but trust us - it’s so, so, so much more than that!

Spätzle are squeezed through a press, shaved off the edge of a board or sliced straight into the boiling water. Afterwards, the simmered Spätzle are drained and then fried in butter. After that it is either baked with grated cheese (KäseSpätzle), or served as a side dish.

It’s taken pretty damn seriously in the region of Swabia - The European Commission made Schwäbische Spätzle and Knöpfle into protected types of pasta. If they have been produced in Swabia, they are permitted to bear the quality seal of “protected geographical indication” which is valid throughout the EU.

4) Pretzels

They never fail to hit it out of the proverbial park when it comes to bakery in Europe. This is all the more applicable to Germany, which is home to a plenitude of delicious baked items, namely the infamous pretzel. This knot-shaped treat is famous the world over, usually coming as a savoury snack one can have when craving something baked. They can make for a very filling treat whilst remaining low-fat, although nutritionists do not exactly swear by its virtues given that it is high on sodium and carbs. So while you can munch on a fair few, moderation is essential.

5) Apfelstrudel

This list wouldn’t be complete without apfelstrudel, which is a traditional German pastry dish made with thin layers of dough filled with sweetened apple slices. Like pretzels, it’s popular all over the world and if you enjoy baklava, you’d definitely want to try this! Historically, the apfelstrudel is linked to Austria but has multicultural origins so when you have it, you’re having a dish which has been evolved through the contribution of myriad culinary approaches.

Conclusion

When you finally kickstart your dream to study in Germany, and begin your university life, it is absolutely essential that you relish your time there as it’s not only about the university you’d attend - it’s also about gaining exposure to new cultures and ways of life, and as we established earlier, trying the local food can play a massive role towards you doing that. Life in Germany for Indian students is filled with opportunities to explore German culture and lifestyle, and diving into the local cuisine is a fantastic way to start. Enjoy these dishes and let them be a delicious part of your student life in Germany!

[fangedjustice]

"Well, there, my friend. I hope that this party hasn't been too much for you? I'm pleased you've come, recluse though you are," Sigurd teased, holding out the platter of meat for Lloyd to select from. The platter is displayed with a variety of finely roasted poultry meats, cooked in a traditional Chalphy style of one-within-the-other. The skin of the turkey is crispy, and the fats from the duck have marinated both the chicken within and the turkey without. There are cloves and lemon slices studding the plate, combining to form a melange of rich flavors. The choice of which piece to take is up to the feaster – there is plenty to go around!

He had been truly surprised to see his friend's name on the guest list, knowing his penchant and preference for staying more on the fringes. That was how they had met, after all, with he dragging the other into the center of attention - and it was the same at the ball so many months past, seeing his friend recovering from what seemed to be a bout of rather too much interaction.

But, in its turn, he could not have been more pleased that Lloyd had allowed himself out into the open for this. The smile curled at Sigurd lips, part tease, all affection.

"I must thank you, my friend. No, don't protest - you know it must happen, so I think you'd better simply become accustomed. I was quite weak when we first met - a surprise, I'm sure," he added with a laugh before continuing; "But it is the spirit of our competition which has, at least in part, helped me regain my footing. I am more myself than I have been in quite some time, and I have you to thank for that. I hope that whatever I can offer to you - my thanks, my friendship, my trust - can repay all that you have meant to me."

"Even I can be coaxed out of my den every now and then, by a good friend," Lloyd responds, an amused quirk at the corner of his mouth as he regards Sigurd.

He couldn't have said that he thought friendship would come from that call all those months ago in the training yard, but he was never so pleased to have been wrong. Sigurd said he had been weak when first they met, but he'd not been the only one. They were both trying to get back on their feet, and in that competition of swordsmanship that was new to them both, it had reignited a fire.

"No, it...truly, it's been nice. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, some in spite of themselves, and I think that is a feat that only someone like you and your sister could have accomplished," Lloyd says, gaze running over the spread of food being offered before selecting a small portion for himself. He'd not indulged too much throughout the evening, and this would be more than enough.

"Well...it's been mutually beneficial, I assure you. I fear I've gotten quite a deal more out of our friendship than you have, however. You got me out here to this party, after all." His smile grows a little, eyes and expression warming with fondness. "I am unused to your unabashed comradery, Sigurd, but...I endeavor to return the fierce friendship and companionable rivalry you've given me. It keeps me grounded, on my toes, looking forward to the next day..."

"Much like this night you have created, I didn't realize how much I needed it until you offered it to me."

[swiftscion]

He approached Larcei with a smile, with the platter of meats before him almost as a peace offering. The platter is displayed with a variety of finely roasted poultry meats, cooked in a traditional Chalphy style of one-within-the-other. The skin of the turkey is crispy, and the fats from the duck have marinated both the chicken within and the turkey without. There are cloves and lemon slices studding the plate, combining to form a melange of rich flavors. The choice of which piece to take is up to the feaster – there is plenty to go around!

The last they had spoken had been a fraught affair for the girl - he supposed it might have been avoidable, had he been more tactful, had he gained her trust first - had he not failed to begin with, had he protected her mother like he had promised he would - but it was past now, and now Sigurd could only smile knowingly.

"It is nice, isn't it? To have one's family back. Although I suppose 'back' doesn't quite apply to either of us, though in rather opposite ways, doesn't it? Regardless, you see her there before you - your mother, one of my dearest friends. I…would like to apologize, for our discussion a few months past. I could have prepared you better, had…" He almost trailed off, uncertain how he had expected the thought to continue - had he been stronger? Wiser? He should his head. "Had circumstances favored us, you might have heard the story from your mother, instead of me. We were not close then, just as we are not now, but…I hope that we can change that.

"You shine as brightly as she, Larcei. Do not forget that."

The menagerie of food is met with an approving nod. Larcei takes in all Sigurd’s platter has to offer without tasting it: the sights, the smells, the feeling of warmth some few feet ahead of her. She marvels at how golden-crisp the exterior of the bird is, while the entire thing remains plump and thick. Cooking back at the farm in Tirnanog, it was usually one or the other; singe something too long enough, and you burn most of its content. The extra garnishes are an added rarity, enough to spark a small gasp. 

She contains her excitement as he speaks, however. With a second nod, Larcei acknowledges their strange past. He spoke of mother like he had a sword to his throat, like Ayra’s ghost was holding him at razor’s edge to prevent a mistake. And though such a thing would be believable, Ayra is no ghost. The past has culminated with the present as twin stars find their orbit once again. 

So she crosses her arms. “Seriously?” asks a teasing voice, “You’re handin’ me food and apologizing. If anything, I oughta be the one saying sorry. If I’d known you guys were about to cook this much, I would’ve helped.” Her eyes become pointed while her lips curl into a smile. The whole look is one, big, sarcastic smirk.

“But I’ll say thanks instead. For this, and doin’ what you could with mother. She’s been found now, so between her and I, Isaach’s in pretty good hands!” Never mind that neither make a claim to her throne. Still, Shannan can’t go handling everything on his own, now can he? Larcei flexes her arm to demonstrate that as long as they live, he can rely on his cousin and aunt Ayra. 

But she won’t be kept from the food for long. The short silence following her boast gives room for her mind to drift back to her stomach. The Comet is hungry, and so without wasting any more of Sigurd’s time, rips a leg off the biggest bird. 

“Once all this meat goes to my arms and legs though, you’d better watch out. I’ll shine even brighter than my mom!” 

[nightglider124]

So im here in my kitchen making orange chicken for the first time and im attempting to make cherry pie, also for the first time for dessert and i am very anxious and doubtful about my cooking/baking skills rn shskksls 😂

[demonoflight]

Cute Off the Hook details from Japan-only Splatfests:

Pearl always steals Marina’s nuggets rather than get her own. She claims it’s because she gets full fast. Sure, Pearlie, we believe you. (Fries vs. McNuggets)

Pearl once tried to get a slosher filled to the brim with fries. (Fries vs. McNuggets)

...Marina has tried the same with nuggets, but more discreetly. Pearl still noticed. (Fries vs. McNuggets)

Marina is into hot yoga. (Dexterity vs. Endurance)

Pearl gets fidgety if she isn’t on the move and even stands on her chair and walks around the studio when the girls are recording. Very adhd of her! (Dexterity vs. Endurance)

Marina is a good cook and has a recipe for deep-fried chicken with lemon peels. (Lemon vs. No Lemon) Later, she also prepares dango after the Hana vs. Dango splatfest and oshiruko after the Tsubuan vs. Koshian splatfest. All of it is to be shared with Pearl, obviously!

Marina offered to pick out cool outerwear for Pearl after winning the Inner Wear vs. Outer Wear Splatfest, which Pearl agreed to despite complaining that clothes shopping with Marina always takes too long. (Inner Wear vs. Outer Wear)

Pearl and Marina had so much fun watching the matches for the Champion vs. Challenger Splatfest that by the second half they started cheering for each other’s teams. (Champion vs. Challenger)

Marina has a serious sweet tooth and claims her brain needs high sugar content to function. (Hana vs. Dango)

Marina asked the Inkopolis News staff to avoid bringing Mushroom Mountain biscuits to her and Pearl’s dressing room. She explains that the last time she ate a Mushroom Mountain biscuit, "its silhouette gradually started looking like Pearl” and she couldn’t unsee that and had to stop eating... (Mushroom Mountain vs. Bamboo Shoot Village)

Marina likes anko (azuki red bean paste) in any form and has no idea what her preference is until Pearl probes into anko-based dishes Marina likes and accidentally makes her realize she’s Team Koshian. Pearl was so ready to have Marina on her team too... (Tsubuan vs. Koshian)

Between Marina being a newbie to the surface world and basically only watching anime and TV dramas (as she should), she has to admit on live television that she has only the bare minimum idea of what boke and tsukkomi are. Pearl teaches her by invoking an entire manzai gag utilizing Marina’s obsession with heavy machinery. (Boke vs. Tsukkomi)

Marina is extremely prone to infodumping. It’s super cute. Pearl usually lets her go on but sometimes she has to remind her they’re live and can’t turn Inkopolis News into a 2-hour documentary show unprompted. The one time she relents and promises Marina she can talk about something she’s into in their next live show, Marina gets super excited and says she’ll bring a screen and projector and prepare materials for it. Pearl accepts her fate and proceeds to inform their audience to prepare for a 24-hour live show and bring snacks and sleeping bags. (Boke vs. Tsukkomi)

After Pearl sells Marina on the idea of actually attending a baseball match (as per the North American Baseball vs. Soccer splatfest, Marina knows squat about baseball), she regretfully informs her she’s banned from the regular stands at the stadium and always has to watch from the VIP room because she gets too excited and... well, her voice, you know how it’s like. Marina resolves to set up the acoustics at the stadium so she and Pearl can go together. (Ce vs. Pa)

[purplekiwis]

OMG YES! Damaged goods blurb! Can you do a fluff one where one of them is sick with seasonal flu and the other has to take care of them, but they're being stubborn about it because that's just what they do and how they are 🤧

Okay, okay... here she is! It's a bit meh I think, but I hope you like it! 🥰

*

Harry is sick and grumpy, and Y/N takes care of him (from the Damaged Goods AU)

Harry feels miserable.

He’s worse than miserable, really,

because he has a cold… or is it the flu?! He has never known to spot the differences between the two, but he recognized all of the early signs, of course...

As per usual, it started with nothing but a sore throat one morning when he woke up, that ended up lingering throughout the whole day, then came a headache, and the tiredness, and the chills…

It wasn’t so unbearable at first… but the symptoms only kept getting worse and worse as the hours went by, to the point of leaving him with no choice but to skip his classes in favor of staying in bed… suffering.

The worst part about it? He wasn’t even suffering at home – where his mom could be taking her lips to his forehead every so often to see if he had a fever, and bringing him bowls of soup and fruit cubes on that same familiar bedtray that had accompanied him throughout all his periods of sickness.

Mom would also be making sure he stayed hydrated and took his medicine in time... which by the way, he wasn’t taking any. Logically speaking, Harry knew he should have gone to a pharmacy by now, to get something to make him feel better, but how? When he couldn't even muster the will to get up and go downstairs to fill the empty water bottle perched on his nightstand.

He couldn’t move.

Every single inch of his body hurt.

And now he was starting to get shivery under his bedclothes... for fucks sake.

If only he had Pepper, his spaniel mutt puppy, around to snuggle and keep his body cozy and warm like a hot water bag... then perhaps Harry would've been in a better mood. Yeah, definitely. Pepper would've let him bury his snotty face into its soft fur, and not even think to complain if its owner left a puddle of guck all over said fur.

But well, Pepper isn't there.

And being sick sucks.

Especially because Harry really wants some cuddles... and it hasn't been helping his case whatsoever that in this trying day of illness, his mind has done nothing but think of Y/N.

Pondering over what outfit she must have worn that day and what she might be up to while he’s laying there on his deathbed. He also wonders if she has noticed his absence, and if so… if she’s worried about him.

He huffs once he checks his phone again and realizes there are still no messages from her. She doesn’t have to check on him. He knows that, but he can't help that he likes to be cared for sometimes… and as it turns out illness has a tendency to turn him into a big, needy baby... who really wants to have Y/N taking care of him. It would be so good. She could play with his hair the way he likes, give him forehead kisses, hold his hand…

Harry sighs out loud. Her company would be even better than Pepper's, he believes... although Harry isn't so sure Y/N would enjoy having his snot on her as much as his trusty pup would, but that’s beside the point.

It’s even more beside the point because he knows she's not coming to see him.

She’s mad at him, he recalls now. Stupidly so, if he's allowed to think that - he did nothing wrong, after all. She asked him for a “brutally honest opinion” on a design work she was doing for one of her classes, and he simply gave her what she asked for, plain as that. But of course, then she didn’t like what he had to say and got sulky. Just girls being girls, he guesses…

Harry should've known better than to think that would stop her from coming to see him, though. His girl was a little box of surprises, after all... a true master in the art of keeping him on his toes.

She showed up only half an hour after she was done with her classes... softly knocking on his door before poking her head inside with a smile, only for her jaw to drop in shock at the absolute misery that oozed from his pores.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked sickly, almost comically. Harry could have laughed at it if he wasn't so utterly lethargic. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think?” The girl huffed, shutting the bedroom door behind her and heading towards the end of the bed to get a good look at him, hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Here I was, going about my day thinking you had slept in for being a bum, only to find out through your friends that you were unwell.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his downright amusement at her worried state. Y/N was worried about him? Well then, perhaps her irritation had passed and she had forgiven him… which meant maybe he’d get to have those cuddles he wanted so bad. “I thought you were mad at me?” He poked, eyebrows arching teasingly the best they could with the little energy the muscles on his face could muster.

“Well, I was and am now even more.” She punctuated. “But I still care, obviously. How am I supposed to leave you by yourself when you look like that?” She put down the bag she was holding at the edge of the bed and kneeled next to it on the floor.

“Look like what?” He frowned again. “All snotty and gross?”

“Precisely… and an awful lot like Rudolph the reindeer as well.” Y/N added, with a soft pat to the tip of his swollen, red nose.

Harry smiled at that, right before his eyes fell on the bag over his bed. “Did you go to the store to get those creepy sheet masks you wanted?”

“Huh?” She muttured confused, before noticing where he was looking at. “Oh no, um… these are just some things I got for you. Just vitamins and those gummies for when you have a sore throat, and also uh…” Y/N's cheeks went a little hot. “I got some chicken soup from the buffet restaurant as well, you know… the one next to the drug store. I thought it might do you good…”

“You went to get all that stuff for me?” Harry asked, Y/N hummed happily in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with tenderness. “Y/N... you shouldn't have. That shit is so expensive, and I'm fine, really. It's just a cold. You dont have to worry, let alone take care of me.”

“No offence, but I think I do.” The girl challenged his statement, picking up the halfway used toilet paper roll placed on his nightstand. “For a start, you shouldn’t even be using this to blow your nose. It’ll only irritate your skin and make it more sore.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s such a mum thing to say…” He grumbled in attempt to mask the fact that the secret big, needy baby in him was loving every single bit of the mom talk, and the same applies to when Y/N clicked her tongue chastisingly once he stubbornly snatched the roll off her hand and pulled out some more paper.

She took the chance that he had moved his arm to move a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his pillow. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” She asked, lovingly running her digits through his unwashed curls. They felt a little waxy and knotty in her hands, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. She just wanted to make him feel better in any way she could. So she kept playing with his hair, scratching at the roots and combing her fingers through his strands just the way she knew he reveled in - only breaking contact once she was almost certain that he had fallen asleep on her... However, as soon as Y/N began to pull her hand away to check her phone, Harry let out a whine and bumped his forehead against her wrist, in a silent request for her to keep going. “You're such a baby sometimes…” Y/N whispered, proceeding to fulfill his wish.

“Mhm... your baby.” He sighed happily.

Y/N smiled to herself at the state of pure bliss Harry was in. So utterly distracted by the slow puffy nature of his breaths, that she almost didnt notice that his droopy eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. He cleared his throat painfully. “Y/N... can I have one of those gummies you got? My throat hurts and I really want to try one.”

Y/N let out a tiny chuckle at the pleading tone he'd used, nodding as she got up to grab the bottle from the bag. She threw it at him playfully to catch midair, knowing that his reflexes were outstanding. “Ohh these seem nice. I love lemon and honey flavored shit.” He told her whilst inspecting the label.

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help but to grin, feeling quite proud of herself for picking the right flavor. But her smile quickly melted into an expression of concern once she watched Harry crack open the bottle and carelessly throw a bunch of gummies into his mouth. “Harry! What are you- that’s not candy! You can’t eat them by the handful!”

“Oi, chill out… it’s just gummies. What wrong could it do?” He asked as he blithely chewed them. Words coming out garbled since he was speaking in between a mouthful.

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps there could be anesthetics in them... but who knows? It was just a thought.” Y/N ironized.

“Really?” He made a wry face similar to hers, inspecting the label closer. “Do you think we can get high on this shit?” He smirked, still chewing as he rolled the container around to check the ingredients in the back. “Cause I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a pretty good afternoon plan to me...” He half joked, cracking the bottle open again and dropping a couple more gummies in his palm.

Y/N heaved at the suggestion. “I think it’s more likely that you get a terrible bellyache, and we end up in the ER...”

“You really think so?” Harry asked teasingly, taking another gummy to his mouth.

“Okay, that's enough. Give me that.” Y/N demanded, pushing for him to pass the container, but all he did was shake his head with a mischievous, defiant smirk. The girl rolled her eyes at him. “You know what? Fine.” She shrugged. “Eat as many as you want. Can't wait to watch you shit the bed once those anesthetics give you a loose bottom.”

He chuckled at the warning, amused. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you come get them from me?” He questioned, but before he could prepare himself Y/N jumped on the bed to try and take the bottle away from his hands, what forced him to abruptly sit up and hold it over his head just so she couldn’t reach it from where she sat. “That was... real cute. Is that all you got, hm?”

Y/N huffed and crawled over his legs until she was practically on his lap. Seeing right through his facade once he happily handed off the gummies without putting up a fight and wrapped his arms around her middle to pull her in for a hug instead. “You must think you're so sly, don't you?” She mumbled in question, going back to petting his hair. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve just said so… I don't mind your germs.”

“I was trying to behave to avoid getting you sick, actually…”

“Yeah right...” Y/N grumbled, dropping her head on his shoulder for a moment. “But I guess, since you've already passed me the germs and all... might as well just give me a kiss, no?” She proposed shyly, waiting for Harry to make the move. He did, pulling away slightly and placing his lips in hers softly. “Mm, more.” She pouted.

“Greedy.” He joshed, pecking the girl's lips again, and again... and once more for good measure. The damage was already done, after all... they might as well just keep doing it. “I feel disgusting, though. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve at least taken a shower and brushed my teeth. Can’t believe you still want to kiss me when I am like this.”

Y/N scratched at the frizzy hairs of his nape. “I promise you don't smell or look nearly as bad as you think you do… and you taste like lemon and honey so, that’s nice.” Harry distrustfully scrunched up his nose at her allegation, sniffing up some in the process before his digits rushed to grab some more toilet paper. He took it to his nose, blowing noisily. “Alright, snotty boy…” Y/N laughed, swiftly crawling off his lap. “How about I go downstairs to plate up our soup while you pick a movie for us to watch as we eat? It can be one of those “guy movies” and all, I promise I won't complain... today only, cause I'm giving you privilege for being sick.”

His eyes strayed towards you with interest, the lower half of his face still covered behind the poorly ripped toilet paper sheets. “I was actually thinking more like a musical or a pixar movie, maybe?”

“God, Harry.” Y/N gasped in awe. “I swear I've never felt more attracted to you in my life. Snot and everything.”

[couldyoustay]

Drawn Together [Ch. 3]

pairing: bruce wayne x gn!reader

premise: An up and coming Gotham artist keeps running into trouble. Good thing there's vigilantes and awkward billionaires to help them out.

[a little slice of life slow burn with battinson- fluff and self indulgent soft touches abound]

warnings: very mild spoilers, some violence and cursing, attempted kidnapping and assault, blood and injury, stitches, mature themes

extras: reader is gender neutral, reader is an artist, Bruce Wayne is touch starved, Gotham has an art scene, probably ooc but i'm having fun

chapters: 5 // word count: ~24k

Read it on AO3

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

CHAPTER 3

Alfred had indeed sorted out dinner, the smells of cooking once again drawing you from your room. 

“It’s too much, Alfred!” you laughed, sitting with the smiling man and taking in the feast he’d prepared before you two. Lemon chicken and angel hair pasta, diced potatoes and sun dried tomatoes, salads and soup, even fresh bread.

“Nonsense!” he chittered, moving things around and passing you tongs and all manner of bowls and trays. “It’s not every day I get to put the kitchen to good use…Master Wayne never eats much- and I’d hate for my culinary skills to grow rusty,” he grinned.

The two of you dug in. Alfred inquired about your work and you regaled him with projects and tales of your adventures through Gotham’s art scene- which is about as wild as it sounds. By the time you had eaten your fill and moved onto dessert (the madman had been baking a pie the whole time), the conversation had wandered back to the past, seemingly where Alfred’s mind tended to go after long days- or apparently a few glasses of wine.

“Used to be so much more help around here! But of course we had much more to entertain. Yes, but by the time the Young Master came to be of age and the last of his tutors were free of their contracts, not even the oldest maids could stand the gloom of the place,” he went on, glass of wine sloshing in his hand. 

“So…Bruce was alone?” You asked, your tired head picking up from its resting place on your crossed arms on the table. The sadness you’d studied in Bruce’s eyes held years of loneliness. Of anger, you were sure, and despair after something so traumatic.

“Indeed…except for me of course,” he added, clearing his throat. His eyes had a wet shine.

“Why stay?” The words simply fell out of your mouth and you immediately regretted prying. “If you don’t mind me asking..” you said quickly.

He shook his head gently, as if to say not at all. After a pause, he spoke slowly. “I had a promise to keep to the elder Master Wayne. And I do not take my word lightly.”

You stared at him, almost seeing the invisible barriers around this man, speculating at all the sacrifice and loss that had made him loyal and kind to a fault, but solemn for the rest of his days. He cleared his throat again and smiled at you apologetically.

“Look at me- here I am talking your ear off about old times when you’re sure to be tired.”

“No- Alfred, really..!”

“Let me get that for you.” He began removing plates and trays, shooing you away as you attempted to help him at the sink.

“Well everything was absolutely delicious, thank you so much.” 

“You’re most welcome, y/n,” he smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, really, thank you.”

“Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“I’d like to take a look around the gardens- if that’s alright.”

“Of course, of course,” said Alfred, looking pleased. “Take the main elevator to the 14th floor and follow the hallway all the way down, you can’t miss them.”

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

You’d followed Alfred’s instructions down to the 14th floor, finding yourself between two opposing doorways- one to an indoor greenhouse and one to an open air garden. You opted for the garden, wanting some fresh air. You stepped out, a cool breeze brushing across your face, and looked over the dizzying maze of topiary bordered by small, gnarled trees- not yet showing signs of withering from the oncoming winter’s chill but would no doubt soon be. 

You walked through a wide main corridor, lined with overgrown but beautiful wildflowers, bordered contrastingly by meticulously manicured hedges. You wondered at who could be maintaining all of this- surely not Alfred. But the man’s devotion to the household seemed to hold no qualms. Bruce was lucky to have someone like that on his side. 

Bruce. What did he think he was trying to pull? He'd better not be out there putting himself in danger. But he’d been far too cryptic with his plans for your liking. He wasn’t the fighter type, surely. And he seemed the charmer type even less. 

Your thoughts were suddenly swimming with worst-case scenarios and you quickly found yourself a bench to sit and be hopelessly nervous. Should I call him? No, that’s a terrible idea, who knows what kind of smoky backroom he’s wormed his way into. Would he have left some kind of indication of his plan somewhere? His room? The study? You hated feeling so helpless here. 

Your eyes wandered up into the sky. A rare break in Gotham’s cloud cover- those stars were up there winking at you again. You felt a tug in your chest as you thought about your place here, in this hollowed out manor, sitting perched above the city like a gargoyle. You closed your eyes and breathed in the rich, earthy scent from the dirt, the lingering ozone you’d always associate with this city. The sounds of Gotham’s streets sounded muffled and far away from up here. 

So it was all the more startling when that quiet was interrupted by a heavy thud from above, your eyes snapping open. The balcony, surely- off from the large ballroom, the one that looked over the gardens. You stood and strained your neck to try and peer through the marble railing.

“Alfred?” You called. No reply. You became suddenly alarmed that the man had stumbled on his rounds through the house. You hurried to the elevators, making your way back up to the main floor and through the halls, the darkened ballroom rushing to meet you as you swiftly dashed through, flinging open the glass doors.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes fell upon a dark mass collapsed onto the balcony’s floor. A scream began building in your throat as a pair of eyes glinted from the swath of black fabric and your feet stumbled back. Then came a choked gasp- your name on rattled breath- before the figure slumped before you. Light caught on two devilish points and a thick cape, your eyes finally able to make sense of the sight before you. 

“Batman…” you breathed, crouching beside him in an instant. What the hell was he doing here of all places? Hands shaking, you nudged his shoulder to the side. Christ, he was heavy. Your hand splayed on his marred chest plates, trying to turn him over. And do what?? Check his pulse? His whole body was covered.

“Hey=“ you began, shaking him gently when suddenly, you realized the hand on his side was wet. You pulled it away, breath hitching at the sight of his blood, dark and sickeningly warm on your skin.

“ALFRED!!” you cried, your own voice sounding far away as pressure rang in your ears. The next few moments were blurs, the two of you somehow grappling the masked man inside. The next thing you knew, he was groaning half-conscious on the dining room table- where you’d just shared a lovely meal no less- bleeding onto the mahogany.

“Alfred we- we need to stop the bleeding-“ you stammered, being handed an armful of towels. The butler whirled around you, bringing supplies from across the house and spilling them onto the table. He hovered over Batman and with a few quick latches, removed the plating and was slicing open an undershirt.

“I need you to apply pressure.” He said it so matter-of-factly to you, offering no explanations. Not that there was time for any, but you caught something deeply worried behind his eyes.

As you pressed the cloth to the Batman’s side, you felt him stir- a sharp intake of breath and a pained gasp as he jerked away from you. A startling red bloomed onto the white cloth in your hands.

“Sir, I need you to lie still,” Alfred said firmly, holding him in place with a surprisingly strong grip. You kept up your efforts, the vigilante staying as still as he was able. The pain had caused him to resurface at least, you thought, catching his burning gaze for a moment. He almost seemed shocked, taking you all in disbelievingly as if you were some sort of apparition, before the man’s eyes squeezed shut in pain, his head lolling back.

“Hold on…” you murmured, “hold on.” Again, louder. “We’re gonna get you patched up..”

“Of course we are,” Alfred insisted gruffly, threading a surgical needle nearby. “Even if you are a bloody fool. I told you it was too soon,” he directed at Batman.

“Alfred…” warned the low voice from the table.

“And did your grand plan come to fruition, hmm?” Alfred said, an uncharacteristic venom in his tone. So they knew each other. Was this some kind of regular occurrence? Wayne Manor just open for the wayward injured vigilante?

“I took care of it.”

Alfred gave an exasperated sigh, handing over new wet towels. You dabbed them gently to the wound, relieved that the bleeding had lessened.

“You feel like you can just take on anything, huh?” Alfred wasn’t letting up. “Was it worth it?”

Batman grit his teeth. “Yes.” His chest rumbled with the word, practically growled. His eyes fell onto you and Alfred’s eyes widened, softening with understanding but still determinedly stern.

Pieces were snapping into place in your head with dizzying speed. 

“Y-you..” 

Those eyes looked up at you from the table, wary. Those goddamn eyes.

“You!” You said again with finality, pressing ointment into the wound and watching its burn cause the man laying before you- Bruce goddamn Wayne himself- to wince with a sick sort of satisfaction.

“You were the one who said those guys were from a larger group!” you said accusingly, rising to your feet.

“I know…”

“You said they had powerful friends!”

“I know!” He almost moved to sit up, crying out easing back to the table with a groan.

You huffed worriedly and Alfred relieved you of your position, urging you gently to Wayne’s side then taking your spot, peeling away cloth and readying the needle.

“I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing,” he mumbled after a moment of quiet. “…not after..” His eyes flicked upward to meet yours.

Your resolve all but crumbled beneath that gaze- as per usual. You gave a small scoff and looked away, ready to be as determined as Alfred at being angry with him. He’d put his life on the line for you. Not that this was an unusual occurrence with him. He’d been doing it every day- for the entire city. But this one had been personal. You’d seen it in the brewing storm in his eyes when he’d left hours ago. This vengeance was for your sake.

Wayne’s eyes were squeezed shut, wincing in pain with every insertion of the needle by Alfred’s careful and clearly practiced hand.

“Wayne..” you began, but he cut you off with soft laughter punctuated with pain.

“I think.. we’re well past formalities.” His grin came out as more of a grimace.

You swallowed hard but said nothing, reaching slowly for his helmet. He made no move to stop you, only watching you intently now, so you continued. He seemed to need something else to focus on besides the pain anyway. 

Your hands found the sides of the headpiece, prying the tight material up from his head. Slick hair fell to his forehead and you watched his eyes fall closed in relief. Think black paint was smeared around his eyes. Added to his already pale skin, which had only been desaturated further due to blood loss, gave his face a frightening, skeletal appearance. You watched the hitched rise and fall of his chest as Alfred worked diligently. 

You reached for a gloved hand with your own. Wayne took it without a word, his eyes still squeezed shut.

By the time Alfred had finished, Bruce seemed to be just barely conscious. 

“Master Wayne?” said the butler gently.

“Bed.” he replied weakly, an arm thrown over his face. 

“Wouldn’t you rather-“

“Bed.” He insisted, letting his stoic expression fall as he removed his arm, showing just how pained and tired he was. You looked to the butler.

“We should get him to his room,” said a weary Alfred, scrubbing the blood from his hands in the sink. You merely nodded. The two of you hoisted Bruce up under his arms and he limped his way down the long hallway to his room, suppressing groans of pain. Alfred opened the large doors and the two of you helped Bruce into bed.

“Thank you for all your help, y/n,” said Alfred sincerely, looking over Bruce like a concerned parent. “Please get some sleep- I’ll get him sorted,” he assured you.

You found yourself nodding again, unsure what to say. Hell, what were you supposed to say to everyone tomorrow? You turned to go and felt a gloved hand catch yours. The hair on the back of your neck prickled hearing your name rumble through Bruce’s chest.

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. 

You couldn’t help but smile sadly, continuing to be perplexed by this man. “I’m the one who should be thanking you..” You squeezed his hand and gently let it go, taking your leave. You hoped he’d get some rest- the bags under his eyes had already told you he wasn’t normally inclined to.

Back in your room, you tried to get some sleep yourself. But after a considerable amount of tossing and turning, you realized your efforts were in vain. 

You huffed and shoved the plush duvet away, climbing out of bed. Gotham glittered below you in the night, looking quiet and beautiful from far away. You sighed and grabbed your empty water glass from the bedside table, creeping down the hall to refill it. 

As you pad your way back, you swear you hear a soft thud coming from Wayne’s room down the hall. You paused in your tracks, listening for anything else. 

Silence. 

Could it have been your imagination? No, there it was again. You put your glass back in your room and tiptoed toward the large set of doors. You felt like a creep leaning in and listening intently. But what if he was hurt? What if whatever he was dealing with back in the city had followed him home? You couldn’t wait any longer after hearing a sharp cry of pain from behind the doors.

“Bruce? Bruce!!” You hissed, rushing through the doors and taking in the dark room before you. 

Pieces of his Batman armor were strewn about the floor. His sheets looked as if they had been dragged together in a path from the bed to the master bath, flecked in places with dark red. You scampered to the bath and skidded to a halt in the doorway. Wayne was on the floor in boxers, fumbling with a box of bandaids with shaking hands, half the contents of his cabinets strewn about him. His head snapped up at you as you came into view, his gaze already defensive in preparation for the worst but softening to something like embarrassment when he realized it was you.

“Uh-“ you stammered, feeling a hot blush threaten to creep up your collar as you immediately regretted busting into his room. “I just…wanted to make sure you were ok..” you tried, looking sheepish. 

Bruce looked like he wanted to disappear in that moment but soon lowered his head, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughs. 

“Alfred was right. I do want to get cleaned up. But everything hurts,” he laughed weakly. “I barely made it in here.”

Now that his armor was removed, you really got to see how beat up he was. His skin was a patchwork of bruises and abrasions, dried blood caking cuts you hadn’t even seen before under the suit’s dark material. 

“Fuck…” you breathed. 

“I know- I look like shit..” he smirked, looking exhausted. 

“No! I mean well yes but- argh c’mon, let’s just get you cleaned up. If you can barely stand I’ll draw you a bath..” you said quickly, getting up to do just that. 

His eyes followed you around but he was silent. Once the water was running in Wayne’s fancy-ass claw-foot tub and you’d decided the temperature was acceptable, you headed back to him. He was making another attempt to stand, still clutching the bandaids. You swiped the box from him and set it on the counter, giving him an exasperated glare.

“Just hold on a second!” you helped hoist him up like before, taking his arm around your shoulder. “Don’t go hurting yourself more…you wouldn’t want me to wake Alfred and have him do another round of stitches, would you?”

“N-no,” he grimaced, your shoulder digging into a purpling bruise on his ribs.

“Sorry,” you said gingerly, adjusting yourself slightly. 

He didn’t look it under those thick overcoats but shit, he was built. It wasn’t an easy feat limping him across the marble toward the bath, the water steaming up his frigid room. You leaned him up against the side of the tub and quickly shut off the water before it got too high. You stood there expectantly for a moment and he stared at you awkwardly.

“Are.. you gonna-“

“Oh!” Your face flushed and you turned around in an instant. You were grateful to turn your tomato-red face away as he took off what was left of his clothes and climbed gingerly into the tub. 

You could hear hisses of pain as the hot water and soap kissed his scrapes and he sank into the tub with a groan of relief.

You turned slowly, nervous and suddenly filled with thoughts that the two people you’d been thinking about most in the past couple of weeks were in fact one person. And he was right in front of you. Naked. Thanks brain. You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts.

“Temperature okay?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Mmmm…” Bruce rumbled in reply. His head leaned back on the edge of the tub and his eyes drooped closed. 

“Hey,” you called, grabbing a low stool from the vanity and a washcloth from the cabinet. You wet the cloth in the sink and came to sit beside him. “If you fall asleep in the tub I won’t be able to get you out,” you laughed softly. “Stay with me, Bruce.” You went to work on his raccoon eyes, wiping away at the grease paint. A small smile tugged up at the corners of his lips as you did so.

“What?” 

“Nothing, it’s.. it’s nice to hear you say my name,” he said quietly. 

You cursed the pattering of your heart, trying to concentrate on removing the makeup. Your other hand rested on the side of his face. The intimacy reddened your cheeks and you were thankful Bruce’s eyes were closed.

There were a million questions racing through your mind, a million things you wanted answered, but the man before you looked so burned out, you figured you’d spare him the interrogation for tonight. You just wanted to be here for him right now. You hoped that was what he needed.

After a bit, you pulled away the washcloth and sighed.

“Did you get it?” Bruce mumbled, flashing that tired smirk.

“As much as I could,” you chuckled. “It’s alright- the eyeliner look suits you.”

He breathed a soft laugh, his eyes half-lidded and staring right at you. There was a question there, but his weariness wouldn't allow him to put it to words.

After steeling yourself for a pause, you reached out and pushed his slick hair back off his forehead, exposing the sharp panes of his features. You waited for a reproach but Wayne merely closed his eyes. You swear you heard a broken sigh. You continued in that way, running soap and water through his hair and checking what you could of the rest of his injuries, helping when he seemed to be straining. The silence between you no longer felt awkward but of a tired comfort. Gently, your hands brushed over his skin, a feather-light touch across a map of bruises.  

Just when you were almost certain he’d fallen asleep, he shifted, sitting up. Water cascaded in droplets from his hair and shoulders.

His voice came out softly.

“I think I can manage…” he began, “..you don’t…have to leave.” Fumbling with his words but clearly trying to make sure you wouldn’t be uncomfortable, you couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“Right- just.. call if you need anything,” you said with a nod and wandered back to the bedroom. Seeing the state of the floor again, you attempted to gather the pieces of the Batsuit into a corner and tore off the bloodied middle sheets entirely. After some rummaging around in the closet, you tossed a few blankets onto the bed. 

Bruce emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wrapped in a towel and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His head bowed as he limped into the room and began rummaging in his dresser. Your eyes wandered across his scarred back, watching his muscles ripple with each movement. He looked up before going back to the bathroom with a wad of clothes in hand, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You’re sweet.”

The door clicked shut softly behind him.

From the very edge of the bed where you sat perched, hardly daring to sit anywhere further in, your heart pounded in your chest. Get a grip, y/n!! You told yourself. You were still a guest and these…strange circumstances didn’t give you any special permissions. He’d let you touch him, though. You wondered if he’d do it again.

Bruce emerged some minutes later, clad in a loose-fitting black t-shirt and sweats. The lights from the bathroom illuminated him from behind for a moment before he clicked them off, the room suddenly plunging into darkness. You blinked and your eyes took a moment to adjust. The city glowed from under a light nighttime haze, casting the only source of light onto the floor and up across the bed in dim rectangles. 

You felt the mattress sag from the other side as Bruce climbed into bed. He stifled his groans as he laid down, his breaths labored in the pressing silence.

“Will you stay? Just for a little while…” That low voice rolled over you like a wave, pulling you toward him.

You smiled to yourself, easing back until you laid parallel with him.

“Course.”

You lay facing him, your eyes finally able to make out his form under the blankets. He lay on his back, one hand placed gingerly atop the bandaged wound at his side, the other raking through his damp hair. His head turned to face you and his dark eyes glinted with the glow from the windows.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, relief pouring into your words. You remembered the tightness in your chest earlier, not knowing where Bruce was or if he was alright. It had turned out you didn’t fully know who Bruce was either. Suddenly your thoughts were all catching up to you at once.

“Oh god..” you mumbled. You felt a flush of embarrassment rush through you.

“Hmm?”

“This whole time…it’s been you this whole time.. In the alleyway, in front of the Arts Center…at my apartment!”

He gave a low breathy laugh, “Ohh, that.. you do seem to have a habit for getting yourself into trouble.” You could hear the smile he wore saying those words. “Unless that was all just to meet the Batman.”

“Ohhh god, and then at the gala.. my drawings…” A burning blush crept into your cheeks.

He chuckled at that. “I gotta admit, I was flattered. And curious who could’ve gotten so close. And then, there you were again- and everything made sense.”

“Stoppppp,” you groaned, having buried your face in a large pillow. Welp, it was all there, out in the open now.

“It…it’s strange having someone know the truth. But I’m glad it’s you.”

You peered out at him, turning your head slightly to the side. “The things you do…”

“It’s dangerous, I know. But this city isn’t going to get better with us just sitting around. People need something to hold onto. Need to realize they have the power to do something, too.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head slightly. After a pause, you sighed.

“Alright Mr. Vigilante. But you’d better promise to be careful,” you said, knowing the absurdity of your request given his line of work, but meaning it all the same.

He chuckled softly, “Fine then, deal.” He offered his hand out between you two. You took it in both your hands and the two of you shook on it, a small laugh drawn from your throat. You found yourself continuing to hold on after, tracing your fingertips across his large hand. Calloused palms and battered knuckles gave way to long, bony fingers as you marveled at the gentleness of hands that could enact such violence. Bruce watched you silently, not daring to move an inch.

His gaze caught yours and you felt yourself shrinking before those stormy eyes. They seemed to be studying you, calculating, and you were suddenly very aware of what you were doing.

“S-sorry,” you mumbled, looking down and releasing his hand, but just as quickly he tensed his hand and closed his fingers firmly around yours. Your eyes snapped back up to his and there it was again- that silent question. His other hand reached over you slowly, coming to rest behind your head. A thrill ran through you. You remembered that feeling- from your first encounter that night in the alleyway. His touch was achingly gentle this time around. You could feel him slowly pulling you towards him. Your heart pounded in your chest. You came to rest startlingly close, his forehead pressed gently against your own. His eyes were shut and you watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply.

That invisible barrier between the two of you was crumbling but you were afraid to ask for too much. You watched Bruce’s exhausted body slacken and drift off into sleep, his breaths slowing and his hold on you going limp. 

You’d done as he’d asked. Now you’d let him sleep.

You slipped out from under Bruce’s arm and took one last look there in the dark. In sleep, his face had an ease to it you’d never seen in waking hours. He looked strange without his permanently furrowed brow, those serious eyes. You sighed and hoped he’d sleep well into tomorrow. He needed time to recover. 

You left the room silently, closing the large door with a soft click. Back in your own room, you felt the ghost of him against you. You tried to get some sleep, thoughts awash with a touch gentle enough to make you cry.

[itsdetachable]

whoever said meal prep is easy is a dirty liar

i mean maybe ppl don't say it but I swear that it's implied in so much meal prep stuff

anyways I'm on this kick to make chipotle copycat burrito bowls and stiry fry bowls for work lunches bc it keeps me from wasting all my money at chipotle and it takes soooo loooong

well the stir fry bowls are easy bc I just make some rice (this time I used an uncle bens garden veggie rice bag and some brown rice) and some frozen veggies and the only thing that took longer was the chicken I marinated in teriyaki sauce and then cooked.

The steak burrito bowls tho take forever. I mean they come out so damn good but they take FOREVER.

Steak made with this recipe (clicky) don't believe the "put in the fridge for 30 mins" bs, what you want to do is take the steak and if its a thicker cut make surface cuts on each side, then slather the thing in the marinade and leave it in the fridge overnight. A full 24 hours is good. I left it for almost 2 whole days because I couldn't get to it and it almost made my dad cry from how good it was.

For the Adobo sauce I use this recipe more or less: ADOBO Mix 1 tablespoon tomato paste, 1 tablespoon vinegar, ½ teaspoon chipotle powder, pinch of cumin, a pinch of oregano, ½ teaspoon garlic, ½ teaspoon salt.

I skip the chili/chipotle powder bc sometimes my mom eats this and her stomach can't handle spice, and also I am not good at handling it either tbh.

HOWEVER this not only takes time for making the marinade, but also the cooking of the steak which, depending on the thickness and/or how many pieces you have, can take like up to half an hour

Anyways, after that the BEANS: i use this (clicky) recipe which is number one on the list of sites when you google and works just fine. I don't use lemon and lime juice. You can mess around with the seasoning, today I used the Everplate seasoning mix which is uhhhh right here (Hello Fresh and Everyplate are the same owners or whatever, this mixes are simple and make decently yum food)

Anyways, that's ANOTHER long time, I usually do the steak and the beans at the same time

AND THEN THE RICE which is just Zatarain's Cilantro Lime rice bc I am exhausted by this point. It tastes good enough and works really well with the steak and beans. Day before/of I chop the tomatoes and lettuce and add a hefty serving of sour cream because my cholesterol is really good for now so I'm enjoying it while I can

Anyways, this is a LOT OF WORK. Like, I don't technically have issues standing and moving around etc, but damn if standing for hours on end doesn't mess with you. Which I knew bc I used to work at a cafe/bakery where I was standing for hours but still!

If anyone tells you meal prep and getting your lunches ready like this is simple or easy or whatever you have my permission to smack them.

[lailyn]

Monsieur Butterfly

Summary: Something is stopping Loki from healing. Stephen decides to take a hands-on approach.

___________________

"How could you let it get this bad?"

"I have been cut a hundred different ways an infinite number of times in the last thousand years, Strange,” Loki growled.  “I have always healed just fine."

"I don’t know if you’re just clumsy or simply exaggerating.”

“I decline to answer that.”

“I guess there's a first time for everything," Stephen tut-tutted. "Can’t say I’m surprised. Ageing does have a negative effect on wound healing."

Loki whipped his head around, eyes flashing. "Are you calling me old?"

"Well, I'm not calling you a spry chicken if that's what you're fishing for."

"You are so lucky I am in so much pain right now or you would find yourself butterflied like one."

"Oh, you do enough butterflying for the both of us, I think."

Loki harrumphed but said nothing further, until curiosity and trepidation got the better of him. “Is it…really bad?”

Stephen gently probed the lemon-sized lump on Loki's back. It felt hot to the touch and very, very tender. 

"It's definitely an abscess," Stephen said gravely. "We need to drain it or the infection's going to spread. If you think you feel like shit now, it's ten times worse if you get sepsis on top of this."

"How wonderful."

"You sure you don't want some local? This is going to hurt. Like, really, really hurt."

"Pain is an old friend."

"Spoken like a true masochist." Stephen picked up his scalpel and threw a warning shot, amused and sympathetic in equal measures. "I'm going to start cutting now."

"Just get it over with," Loki mumbled into the pillow. 

The moment the tip of the scalpel punctured the skin, blood mixed with blue spurted out from the boil like a geyser, and Loki howled.

"Breathe, Loki."

"I am breathing!" Loki snapped. His stomach churned with nausea as the throbbing worsened, and he gulped in a frantic breath to keep from upchucking all over Stephen's precious furniture.

"Don't stop," he moaned when he sensed Stephen hesitating.

"Okay," Stephen exhaled. "Hold still."

"I'm trying," Loki panted, writhing in pain.

"Why do you always do this to me, Odinson?" Stephen muttered as he explored the wound as thoroughly and as gently as he could.

"Sorry," Loki gasped.

Stephen heaved a sigh. "It's fine. I'm just worried about you."

Loki shivered, from both the pain and the cold.

"Nearly there…I've almost got it…"

Stephen's words were meant to be soothing but Loki hardly registered them. He bit his lip as he waited out the kitchen surgery, the seconds ticking by at an agonisingly slow pace.

Thanks to Stephen's impeccable surgical skills, it was not long before all the pus was drained and the dead, infected tissue debrided. The pain gradually came down from its crescendo, allowing Loki to take his first fulfilling breath in days.

"Wanna know why you weren't healing?" Stephen picked the foreign body he had extracted from the abscess up with a pair of forceps, and brought it close to Loki's face.

Loki's eyes widened. "How did that get in there?"

Stephen dropped the piece of bloodied, splintered wood into a specimen bottle.

"Remember the time you broke the bed when we went on that mission to retrieve that relic from that church in Marseille?"

Loki felt his face go red-hot, hotter than could be explained by the fever alone. 

"Massalia. If you're going to take me back in time to accompany you on your suicide missions, you should get your historical facts right."

"I stand corrected," Stephen said brightly, "Seeing how I wasn't alive back then."

"Go on. Flaunt your youth," Loki goaded. "The fact remains that I still turn heads wherever I go and that makes you green with envy."

Stephen spent the next few minutes suturing the wound silently while Loki stewed. 

When his lover's silence went on for longer than it should have, Loki turned his upper body a little. 

"I misspoke," Loki demurred.

Stephen kissed the tip of Loki's bare shoulder. "No. You were right. I am jealous." 

A sniff. "I can't stand it when people eat you with their eyes right in front of me.”

Loki slowly pulled himself upright and placed his hands on Stephen's waist. "I have eyes only for you."

Stephen pressed himself closer till they were chest-to-chest proper. He asked quietly, "Do you promise?"

"On the blood of my ancestors," Loki vowed solemnly. "Who, unfortunately, I've never met, but the sentiment is true."

Stephen chuckled; though still sad of eyes, his face, at least, was much brighter. 

"Speaking of blood, can you lie back down? I need to give the wound one last clean before I put the bandage on."

"All that sentimental talk and you weren't even done?" Loki whined loudly.

"You can't rush a genius at work, Loki."

Incessant complaining aside, Loki could never deny Stephen anything.

"For the record, it was not I who broke the bed." Resigned to his fate, Loki lay down on his belly once more. "You were on top."

[r0b0-writes]

Milkshake date?

So the first time I wrote this tumblr crashed on me and everything was deleted. I was absolutely crying, tears rolling down my cheeks. The only thing keeping me sane is that I hope this is somehow better than the first one.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy, because this was my favorite to write. Two times.

Title: Chill Moves Words: 1,720

Cap’n opened the door to the diner, “welcome to my happy place!” he bowed. 

“I thought Comic-Con was your happy place?” Sweet questioned as he stepped inside.

“Welcome to one of my many happy places!” Cap’n corrected.

The doorframe was too low for the taller of the trio to walk in comfortably. Cakes ducked beneath. He tried to ignore the hit to his psyche as he was yet again reminded that he wasn’t as short as his partners. “Oh, wow~ !” he peeked around the room. “I’ve never been to a diner like this before.” Actually, Cakes had never been to a diner, ever. 

The diner was decorated in the classic 40s-style ice cream parlor. Red and white colored wallpaper, checkered flooring, old records hung on the wall, and there was even an old jukebox in the corner. Not to mention the colorful abstract art that seemed to be strawn about the place. Cakes took particular notice of the photo that had a chicken wearing sunglasses. That… didn’t fit the theme, but okay! Cool chicken art was appreciated anywhere!

"Dad an' I used to come here all the time!" Cap'n beamed. He glanced at the bar, looking for three open seats. “Then we’d go to the movies after and get some grub.” He spotted a set of open bar stools and grabbed his partners hands, pulling them up to the bar. “This place has the best milkshakes ever, totally. They got everything,” he yoinked three menus from the bin on the counter and slid them down.

Cakes took a seat between Cap’n and Sweet. 

"Oh, wait, wait, guys, watch this," Cap'n lowered the seat and crawled up, he pushed off the bottom rim as it spun up to its normal height. To stop the spin, Cap'n placed an elbow down on the counter and rested his head in his hand. "Come here often?" he winked.

Cakes giggled, "nope~ !" he played along. Cap'n leaned in, "would you like to?" Sweet rolled his eye, “c’mon guys, we’re in public.”

Cap'n stood up on the barstool, "says the guy who was all over K_K the day you guys started dating! Hypocrite!"

“I am not a hypocrite! I am aware of my surroundings!” “My ass!”

Cakes ignored their verbal back-and-forth, taking more interest in the menu. It didn’t really notice the arguing anymore, anyway. Though he didn't really think of them as arguments. They were more like... little tiffs. Nothing to be concerned about. Its eyelids dropped, there was never a reason to be concerned about those two.

“K_K, I’m not a hypocrite, am I?” Sweet placed both hands on their shoulder. “Well, I’m not a hypocrite, am I?” Cap’n repeated.

“Hmm…” Cakes tapped his chin, “I think… I want a Lemon-Key Lime Surprise.” 

An empty pause came from the two before Sweet responded. “Good idea, K_K! We should get our order figured out.” Cap’n leaned back and tapped Sweet’s shoulder, “you should totally try the Sunrise Mango, I think you’d really like it!”

“What’re you gonna get~ ?” Cakes asked. “I always get the Bluberry Cheesecake,” Cap’n smiled like he was proud. “They almost named it after me when I was a kid! Before, uh… stuff, happened.” Cap’n didn’t let the small drop in atmosphere last long. “You got the LKL Surprise? I wonder what they’ll put in it this time?”

Cakes hummed, “I hope it’s something sweet~ !” He loved sweet things as much as he loved the tart, acidic taste of lemons. The combination was just perfect! It balanced the tastes so well, the contrast somehow compliments each flavor in a different way. The sweet portion always being the first initial taste, followed by that sourness that was never overwhelming, it was always just right. It sometimes reminded him of… well, anyway, it was hard to not indulge. 

After ordering the trio only waited a few moments as the watched their milkshakes get made. Cakes’ was handed to the back before being brought back through. It narrowed his eyes, “(sneaky…)” Applying the ‘surprise’ from another room, huh? That wouldn’t stop him. They’d figure out what that surprise was. 

“You like it?” Cap’n asked excitedly to his partners. Sweet nodded as they took a spoonful of theirs, “you were right, this is rad.”

Meanwhile, Cakes had taken to inspecting theirs. There was no distinct smell, no abstract color… He hummed, he’d have to take a sip. The lemon hit his tongue first followed by the taste of the lime. “Mmm~ !” they took a big slurp up their straw. The tangy, zesty goodness was perfectly missed in with the milkshake’s consistency. Even the whip cream on top had soaked enough in for it to apply just a little coverage from the acidic taste, just enough for it to not be overpowering. And underneath all that… there was something else. 

Another slurp. There was something there… Another slurp. It was sweet… Another. But there was a bite to it… Another. What was it? It was right on his tongue.

"Woah, Cakes! Slow down, you're gonna give yourself a brain freeze!" Sweet warned. “Take it slow,” he added.

But that wouldn’t stop Cakes, “but I taste it. It’s right there, just one more.”

Another. Another.

“Woah, Cakes, you’re like, almost done with that,” Cap’n noted.

Another.

What the hell was that flavor he was tasting?

Anoth–

"Brain freeze!" Cakes immediately pushed the milkshake away. "Ouch, ouch, ouch!" He gripped his forehead as the lights in his eyes began to flicker and glitch out. 

“I warned you,” Sweet rubbed his back as Cakes turned to Cap’n, pushing his face into his side. The cold covered every inch of Cakes’ mind, momentarily freezing not only the metaphorical brain but also the physical brain. His hearing would cut in and out, and seconds would pass where he couldn’t feel or see. It was like time travel but while stuck in a solid block of ice.

"C'mere, I can make it go away," Cap’n twisted the seat around. Cakes held his head, he couldn’t even hear what his partners were saying. Eventually, it would go away, but the lag hurt, it felt like his entire body was full of static. He just wanted it gone, to immediately evaporate and be freed from this eternal ice prison.

Soft, warm hands cupped the corners of his face, they pushed apart the grip on his forehead. Its vision still lagged behind the movements. Despite looking up, all he could see was the ground. Then he felt lips on his, gentle and chilly, but full of warmth. That warmth flushing to his cheeks, chasing away all the frigid cold. 

The world came into view as Cap’n leaned away, “all gone?” He smirked, leaning against the counter.

No thoughts. Head empty. 

"Wh-n d- did you learn th- that?" Cakes didn’t know if it was the lingering effects of the brain freeze or if it was just that shocked. Did… Did his Cap’n really do that?

"Learn what?" Cap'n smirked. "Th- That!" Cakes shouted, "that was- that was-" Sweet stood up, "that was smooth! Like, really smooth!"

Cap’n grinned, “I told you guys I had moves.”

While they spoke, Cakes couldn’t get the image of Cap’n’s features coming into view out of his head. Dazed, he turned to face the counter, staring at the top with eyes that looked a thousand miles away. Not only that, but he was absolutely starstruck. Its Cap’n wasn’t a player. Well, he was a cassette player, but he wasn’t a player-player. Did he do that on his own? Did he learn that somewhere? It was cute, it had been romantic, soft… He could taste the slight flavor of Cap’n’s milkshake still linger on his lips.

Cheeks flushed more, he suddenly felt intensely aware of how loud the beating in his chest was. Could Sweet and Cap’n hear it? Did they know? Who else could hear it? They couldn't bring themself to look around the room. They couldn't let their partners see them like this. In a puddle, all mushy over one kiss. Could they somehow play it off? No, it was too late. Everything was hot, his face was burning.

They’d kissed before, this wasn't anything new or more exciting than normal. So what was it? Why couldn't he think straight? Cap’n caught him guard, he hadn't expected that kiss. If he had known or seen it coming it would've been different. Oh gosh, was he actually this easily flustered? Or was it just because of Cap’n…? 

He took a small glance to the side, Cap’n didn’t even seem to notice how his little stunt had made it feel. 

Cakes couldn’t even place the exact feeling they were feeling. It’d never– It’d never been this lost for words before.

They needed to cool down, their face was too hot. They’d take their jacket off if it wasn’t being used as a shield to hide their face. 

He grabbed his milkshake and began drinking it continuously, eyes fixated on whatever was in front of him. 

“Slow down,” Sweet chided, “you’re gonna get another brain freeze,” he leaned his head down to meet Cakes’ face. Immediately Sweet sat up and turned from the others, hand over his speaker as he held back a laugh. 

Cakes seemed to shrink into themself.

Cap’n placed a hand on their shoulder, turning their chair to face him. “Cakes?” he asked, worried. “Hey, are you– ?” He placed a hand on Cakes’ face only to bring it back upon feeling the heat emitting from their partner.

Embarrassed eyes refused to meet his, instead focusing on the checkered flooring of the diner. Count the squares. Don’t look up. Why not? Cakes had never been shy before. If anything he was actively aware of how nonchalant he was when they would all flirt or kiss. This was just different. Why was it so different? He cowered more into the neck of his jacket. 

Sweet gasped for air as he laughed, banging his fist on the table. He’d never seen Cakes flustered before. And to think that their Cap’n did that! 

Cap’n also hid his face, a little embarrassed himself, “I didn’t know... I was that good,” he scoffed light-heartedly. “I, uh… hmm,” he faced away, taking a big gulp of his milkshake.

At least Cakes knew the surprise flavor now. Blueberry Cheesecake.