#ugh now I want indian food

[clockwayswrites]

Cozytober Day 5: Self-care is important

masterpost

“That’s not,” Danny tried to say around his laughter. “That’s not how that works!”

“Semantics,” Jason said again and pressed a kiss to the tip of Danny’s nose. “Are you up for eating now? I’m thinking that Indian place we like with the kalakand.”

“Oh, yes! With lots of garlic naan,” Danny agreed. “But you’re sure you want to order in?”

Jason gave a little shrug and started to search for his phone. “Why not? It’s been a long week and we’ve both worked hard. We deserve a little indulgent self-care. I can use up what I’ve got left to cook to make us a nice lunch for tomorrow. It’s mostly veg anyways. And you can take the leftovers from tonight home so that I know you won’t starve during the week.”

“I’m not that bad,” Danny said, rolling his eyes.

Jason just gave Danny a long look.

“Okay, fine, I’m not that bad anymore. Maybe mostly because you take care of me, but still,” Danny said. He put his hands on the counter behind him and hopped up onto the island to watch Jason search. He’d help, but Jason’s phone was a thing of mystery and if it didn’t want to be found, it wouldn’t be.

(Danny was half convinced the thing was possessed.)

“Hence the leftovers,” Jason said as he checked through the pockets of the coat he had been wearing.

“Fine, I will be a sacrifice! I will take home the delicious leftovers! I will fall upon this sword.”

“And people think I’m dramatic. Ha!” Jason pulled his phone out from behind the dish that Jason kept his keys in. He pulled up the menu as he walked over to stand between Danny’s legs. “Butter chicken, goat briyani, saag paneer, triple order of garlic naan, and kalakand sound good?”

“And a bowl of kheer,” Danny added after a moment of thought.

“Right, theirs is good. Okay, food ordered, hot chocolate long gone, you’ve stolen my best sweater—”

“Yes,” Danny said with a smug smile.

Jason just smiled fondly. “What else do we need in this self-care list?”

“Kisses.”

“Ah, yes, kisses. How could I forget,” Jason said. Arms braced on either side of Danny’s legs he leaned in and pressed Danny into a slow kiss.

Danny didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around Jason’s neck.

[infatuatedheloise]

May TC Challenge Qs 24-31

lol I forgot again but at least these will be the end lol

24. How do you think you'd react if they confessed their feelings to you?

I'd definitely cry lol. Like, in a positive way. But I'd cry.

25. Have you ever done/read/watched/listened to something you may not have been interested in because they like it?

hmmm well I know he really likes Indian food & I really want to try some now that I know that! also started taking more walks around campus and in general because he likes walks, but I already liked walks too so ig that doesn't really count. Tbh I don't think I have. Our interests are already pretty similar so I haven't felt the need to try and make him like me more by mirroring/copying his interests 😅

26. If your tc was your age, would you date them? Do they have any red flags?

Yes. 1000% I'd date him. Also...kind of. I've never seen him mad or angry, but the way he talks about the times he has been angry scares me lol, like the time he came home and smashed his water bottle against his garage because he was mad that someone tried to run him off the road on his bike, or when our orders at chipotle got messed up and he was cussing out the chatbot 😅 so aggressive and it's scary. Also he's secretly kind of very judgemental and that's intimidating.

27. If your life was a book series/TV series/movie and you had a fan base, would your fans realistically ship you and your tc?

lol I hope? Maybe people would be turned away by the fact that he's my professor & married, but also, some shippers stop at nothing, so...

28. What's something that always makes you think of them?

The moon. He loves the moon so, so much. Anytime I look at the moon or listen to a song about the moon or see any mention of the moon, I think of him. Addendum to Q 25--I look at the moon more often now. I never really made a point to search for the moon before, but I do now.

29. Let's chat for a sec! What's something you've been dying to talk about regarding your tc?

hmmmmmmmm I don't really know lol. I guess lately I've been doubting my decisions to ask him to hang out. Because no matter what happens it's gonna be awkward or look weird. We can't do anything alone (less awkward with just the two of us) (but it will look weird from outside perspectives). So that means we'd have to do something with his wife (so very awkward. I've met her a couple times & she's very nice, but just so, so awkward given the circumstances lol). And like. My feelings for him aside, yeah, it's pretty insane that I'd ask my professor to hang out over summer. Like. Why would I do that 😭😭😭😭😭 it comforts me that he said yes, but still. I regret asking so much

30. Do you flirt with them? If so, how?

Nooooooooooo. I keep my feelings to myself and try not to let him know. I'd hate to ruin our friendship by exposing anything. Sometimes I wear low cut tops and cross my arms together when I know he'd see and that's about as much flirting as I get. Because I'd have some plausible deniability if he ever confronted me about it lol

31. What's something you're manifesting happening between you two? (If you don't manifest, what's something you hope happens?)

A hug 1000%. I want a hug from him sooooooooooooo badly. And not a short one, either. A nice, long, comforting hug. Ugh I want that so badly lmao

[shootingstarpilot]

hello and congrats on the new job in Utah!! I lived there for 3ish years and I still miss it sometimes. I just wanted to pop in and say that if you’re going to be in the SLC area and looking to make friends/meet new people, Under the Umbrella bookstore is an amazing indie bookstore that does a lot of community-building events for the local queer community! They were located near my old work and I never did much more than buy books but they do the *coolest* stuff and sometimes I lived in Utah again just so I could go to their events lol

Listen, I saved this ask so I could have it at hand for reference when I actually got into Salt Lake City, and now that I'm here...

*shakes a finger threateningly in your direction* YOU. I DID NOT NEED TO ACCUMULATE MORE BOOKS.

...Damnit. It's SUCH a good bookshop. Thanks for that.

I wish I was sticking around! I'm giving myself a break tomorrow and I'm gonna try see Evermore (edit: UGH, I just realized I'm in the exact wrong time period between Oktoberfest and Ripper's Cove AND tomorrow is a Monday, time means nothing to me, FINE), but the day after that I'm heading four hours south for the final leg of the trip. I spent most of today walking around SLC, and honestly, I... kind of didn't expect to have as much fun as I did?

I mean, obviously, the bookstore was fun, but I also wandered into a performing arts center in the vain hope of finding a bathroom I didn't have to pay for, ended up chatting with a house manager who gave me a bunch of cool museums to visit, and then mentioned off-hand that they had a show going on right now, and on my way out I realized it was too damn hot to go explore the city in mid-afternoon so I bought a ticket without knowing what the show was and caught the last two and a half hours of a three-hour-long combination lecture/dance/concert centering around Indian novel Ponniyin Selvan???

And they were selling Indian food at the concession stand, so I got to treat myself to samosas for dinner???

And then after that I wandered around Temple Square and ducked into the Tabernacle to catch a bit of the choir practice???

And then after THAT I took Obi's vest off so he could roll around in the grass right outside for a bit, and a couple girls came up and we started chatting and it turns out one of them ALSO had MS so we exchanged numbers to bitch about it together???

I mean. I'm not complaining. I genuinely didn't expect to be enjoying myself so much. Long live road trips, I guess! The mountains are UNREAL.

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 52 - The Spice Festival Heats Up Part 2

We'll let those two sort things out alone. Back to something more wholesome.

Xander: You know, Ophelia's gotten to be pretty athletic herself. I bet if you asked really nicely, she'd show you a thing or two.

Jace: Really? Okay!

Jace: Ophelia! Uncle Xander said you're good at sports!

Ophelia: Did he now?

Jace: Yeah, can you show me some stuff about basketball? Please? I'm trying out for the school team soon!

Ophelia. Sure thing, sweetie. Let's spin into something a little more athletic.

Jace: Let's go!

Ophelia: We're a little far back, buddy. We might want to start closer.

Jace: Can you shoot from back here? I wanna see!

Ophelia: Alright, alright. Here's what you'll be able to do if you keep practicing.

Greta and Xander sit on the sidelines.

Greta: Ophelia seems cool. What's wrong with her?

Xander: What do you mean?

Greta: There must be something wrong with her if she'd date a goober like you.

Xander: Hey, come on! I'm a catch too!

Greta: Whatever you say, Uncle Xander.

Ophelia's shown him the basics, now it's his turn.

Jace also gets it into the net!

Jace: Did you see that? I did it!

Ophelia: I saw! You did amazing, Jace! Those other kids at try-outs won't know what hit them!

Greta: OMW. You, like, have such heart eyes right now.

Xander: I've just never seen her interact with kids before. She's a natural.

Greta: Ugh, please don't try for a baby before you get married. Grandma and Grandpa would be pissed.

Ophelia: Here's my number. If you want to practice again, you let me or Uncle Xander know, okay?

Jace: Thanks! Are you and Uncle Xander married?

Ophelia: No, honey, we're dating.

Jace: When ARE you getting married then?

Ophelia: …You want a root beer float?

Jace: Yeah!

Greta: And it's, like, so stupid. We keep hearing them fighting and it's freaking Jace out.

Xander: Parents are people too, Gret. Sometimes they need to work stuff out and they do it by yelling. If you guys ever need to get out, give me a call. I can take you out for the day.

Ophelia had to change because she started freezing. The things she does for the people she cares about…

Well, some samosas warmed her right up!

Greta: Your boyfriend is half-Indian, girl. You're going to have to get used to spicy food.

Xander: We've gotta head out, bud, but you know where to find me. Love you, dude.

Jace: Love you too, Uncle Xander.

Jace has had a bit of a hard time at home lately. Getting out was nice, even if he didn't get to spend much time with his parents.

Xander: You too cool to give your uncle a hug goodbye?

Greta: I think I'll survive. If we do all go out somewhere together, can Ophelia come too? Or, y'know, whatever.

Xander: Of course she can. We'll talk later. Love you, kid.

Greta: You too, dork.

[dreamscape-popstar]

What is it that you like about Russell and sharukuh as a ship/ pair?

That. Is a really good question actually. Lucky you, you get both admins responses!

Hunter Answer: What I like the most about ShaRuss as a romantic pairing is how. Impossible it is? Crackships are less common nowadays, and within the confines of LPS2012 proper, Russell x Shahrukh would make no damn sense, and still kinda wouldn't? They don't parallel eachother as well as Sunil/Shahrukh and I think Rusty actively hates Shahrukh. Real enemies to lovers.

But that's what makes it so enjoyable. No matter which guy falls for who, it's so interesting to think about. Shahrukh falling in love for a mere pet peasant, someone so. Average and boring and nerdy and dorky, it's unheard of, but damn does he fall hard. And now he has to cope with the fact that he's a famous celebrity in love with some fuckin. GUY. Unextraordinary average man.

And flipping that around to the hypothetical if Russell fell in love with Shahrukh, it's irony at its finest. "Ugh THAT guy? I'd rather be caught dead than be interested in him." And then like clockwork, Russell realizes "Oh Shit." and is so angry and spiteful and so damn gay for that celebrity asshole. And he can't do shit about it lmaoo. It's just really appealing. Resenting the other person so much you find what you hate about them appealing and falling in love and. Christ. It's good. Good food. I love the idiots.

Karina Answer: Kind of similar to Hunter's answer, it's the impossibility of their relationship but the ever so popular expanding upon it. Shahrukh as a character already is very. One note. Yeah he's basically a parody of a famous Indian actor, but, I wanted him to have depth. So. I traumatized him :3

I wanted to expand upon WHY he's like that. No way was some stuck up movie star a spoiled asshole for the sake of it, nah nah nah, he's gotta have a REASON for it. So, I uh. Dove into the child exploitation and abuse of child actors and how they grow up to be resentful of their position and wanting to be more than just a face on a screen. I won't go too into detail because I want the askblog to be the gateway for lore, but that's the general gist. Maybe he's a snarky asshole because he's filled with resentment for the life he was forced into, and projects onto other people, y'know, vaguely gestures towards Russell.

In Shahrukh's eyes, Russell is the epitome of "Got it good". What he doesn't know, is that, Russell parallels him quite a bit. The whole parents not accepting him for who he is and forcing him to be something he's not. Even if he's being a jerkwad to Russ, Russ offers kindness even if it bites him back.

It's really just all about connecting two "opposites attract" thing but putting a spin on it to where they both grew up with the same situation but "grew" from it in different ways. Shahrukh became bitter and hateful due to his trauma, and Russell, while not fully healed from his trauma, is open and kind and patient. I hope my answer suffices! God I can write a whole essay on these guys but I think I already did. (And if it doesn't count, it'd still be hard to write one without spoiling things-)

[olive-oil-boy]

i find the idea of mutual gaining SO damn hot, but it’s not a requirement for me. i want my partner to have the body they want and feel most comfortable in.

what is a requirement for me is that my feeder/partner has to love food as much as i do. that whole “oh it’s okay dear! you keep eating, i’m perfectly happy with my single shred of lettuce. i don’t need anything else!” genre of feedism is a no go for me.

i want someone who gets excited about the new mexican spot down the street and can’t spot talking about what they’re going to get after booking us reservations.

i want someone who’s always experimenting in the kitchen and subscribes to countless recipe newsletters and youtube channels. there’s always something bubbling on the stove top, something mouthwatering in the slow cooker, something sweet baking in the oven.

i want someone who enthusiastically plans out their meals, not for boring meal prep reasons, but because they get a craving for something yummy and have to indulge, “ugh sweetie i NEED some chicken tikka, how’s indian sound for lunch? and now i can’t stop thinking about curries, maybe thai for dinner tomorrow? not tonight though, i think you should make your penne vodka instead. i’ve been thinking about it nonstop since you made it last week!”

you don’t have to gain with me, but you do need to love food.

let’s fall in love with eating, together.

🍽️ 🥰

[anaonmyshoulders]

Day 18:

I love:

- Indian food. I absolutely love chickpea curry. I eat it like every month. Multiple times a month sometimes.

- Sushi! I can't have it like I used too because I'm vegan now, but i try to enjoy what I can without the fish. Ugh I want some just typing this.

- Rice bowls. Both the things above include rice too 😭 sorry I'm a child of immigrants. I need my rice.

[the-hot-zone]

1, 8 and 15 for identity asks!

ty su! these are all really really good ones meaning that they were hard asf to answer.

1: if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

>read: this list would go on way too fucking long if i let it, but i included some that aren't in the five most influential below. firstly is poetry in general. i don't have any collections to recommend, so i can just say june jordan, naomi shihab nye, lena khalaf tuffaha, joy harjo, hala alyan, suheir hammad are all poets i've been reading a lot lately and immediately came to mind. i contain multitudes by ed yong was an excellent read and in a similar vein entangled life by merlin sheldrake are excellent reads that challenge the notion of individuality in the context of ecology. some cookbooks/food-centered ones: chaat (indian); palestine on a plate (palestinian); night + market (thai); the cooking gene (black southern cuisine and african cuisine). all excellent and ones that have affected my relationship with cuisine deeply. i've written essays about all of them. speak, okinawa and beautiful country are two memoirs that stick with me. bad fat black girl: notes from a trap feminist as well. interior chinatown--i need to reread that one, but the formatting and how it contributed to the transformative way in which it is read is stunning. my body is not a prayer request. braiding sweetgrass of course. i just lent out my copy. finally, i have to say it again, repeated from below: virology by joseph odmundson. i didn't even go into personal essays lol or articles UGH there's so much more. oh and just to make sure i've got some fiction (because most of the above are nonfiction)--lessons in chemistry and noor. didn't even include plays or short stories :( i could go on for too long. i must stop. >watch: i don't tend to watch a lot of shows/movies, but some good ones are train to busan (2016), flu (2013), nope (2022), the good place, and yu yu hakusho. >listen to: lorddd this was the hardest one. i'll just go with what i've been listening to lately: the halluci nation, tanya tagaq, foo fighters, system of a down, and slipknot, and lately lots of metal synthwave.

8: what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

These are all honestly a repeat of the above + some others. foo fighters, tamar-kali, FEVER 333, the halluci nation, ghost, everything everything, andrew bird, japanese folk metal, tanya tagaq, snotty nose rez kids, david bowie, system of a down, metallica. i could go on.

15: five most influential books over your lifetime. >the hot zone by richard preston (i have to include this legally) >hawker fare by james syhabout. this is a cookbook; it changed me deeply. >healthy south indian cooking by alamelu vairavan and patricia marquardt. another cookbook. this was my first introduction to south indian cuisine. >white tears, brown scars by ruby hamad. >virology by joseph odmundson. i cannot recommend this one enough. >BONUS. the artemis fowl series (i also have to legally include this)

now answer mine 👉👉👉

[writefightandflightclub]

"Ride or die is so special to me" chapter 3 edition!!!

Hey uuuuhm.... I had to put down my phone multiple times to steady my breathing in order to get through this chapter. Reminded me a lot of watching Scenes From A Marriage bc just like that show, it is great in a heartbreaking way and my poor soul needs a minute!!!! UNWELL at how incredible a writer you are. The inner monologue descriptions were as stunning as they were painful, but I have to commend you on the dialogue in particular. It really felt like two broken people on the precipice, battling with both themselves and each other, with no clear end or goal in sight. Just "I love you, you break me, I want to hurt you, I cannot bear to cause you pain, can you please stop ruining me" as subtext but in such a way that it feels like it is being screamed. How two people can be so perfect for each other and yet tear each other apart and rip themselves up in the process... you have really captured the irrationality and intensity humans can embody while in love with so much poignancy and truth. This chapter also did a wonderful job of showing that it is rarely as simply as "all X person's fault", which I loved.

One of my favourite parts is that the motifs really stood out in this chapter, like payoff to the setups of the previous installments. The mentions of going in circles, the idea that the person who knows you best holds all the potential for your happiness and also all the ways to complitely annihilate you, the cruelty of love ill-timed, the pain of having a former lover be the open-wound in your soul... what I'm trying to say is that this chapter is like really spicy Indian food. I adore it but it makes me cry.

Really every detail felt well thought-out and crucial and every line is gorgeous so I had a hard time singling a section out, but this might just be my favourite part: "What do you do, when your home is also your battlefield? When you’ve already done enough fighting for a lifetime? When all you want is to feel safe and at peace, and he can’t give you that?" I am rooting for these two idiots so bad...

Special to me Anon! Hello again! 😀👋🧡

You are giving me LIFE. You have no idea! Part of me doesn’t even want to post this ask so I can hoard it in my inbox like the treasure it is!! 🥹

Ah yikes, it reminded you of Scenes From a Marriage? That is such high praise indeed, I thank you! (That show destroyed me, I will probably never watch it again LOL 😅.)

That you enjoyed the dialogue honestly means the world. I’ve spent a lot of time reworking and tinkering with it, and playing with what I could have them say and know and want, but also NOT say and NOT know, and what to keep to subtext.

And UGH I love your interpretation of the conflict here: “battling with both themselves and each other”, and “I love you, you break me…”. That was put so beautifully, I’m soft now! I mean. Babe (GN). Where do I read YOUR writing? 👀

And you noticed the MOTIFS? I am vibrating with happiness over here omg.

Finally: “I’m rooting for these two idiots so bad”?!!!???!??!!?!! AAAAAAAAAAA. This is everything I could hope for, honestly! I didn’t want the desire of wanting them to get together to become too buried or lost under all the angst. We’ve never really seen them *happy* together yet, you know? And so I wasn’t sure if I could generate that feeling of “I want them to figure this all out”. So I’m super pleased you are rooting for them (they sure do need it! 😝)!

You have truly delighted my lil writer heart. Thank you so much. I know this all takes time out of your day - to read, to put down a response - and so please know I’m super grateful! ☺️🧡

Have a lovely weekend!

[lesbesapphic]

made me laugh HARD, girl. i would’ve answered the same. i wish i would taste some indian food 😭 i’m craving it for months, here there’s aren’t indian restaurants ugh.

my study field sucks sometimes i swear, but you’re the first one saying that 🥺

big bed and big blanket?? that’s heaven.

anyway, how are you today? i’m almost up for my first to do list 🫨

Lmao.. I wanted to say alot but that's the only thing I am grateful for when I think of myself as an Indian.. the food. Lol.

Damn ik once you start craving.. it is like nothing else can satisfy it. Only butter chicken.

I mean I do get that it must get boring but.. the field and the people who are good at social sciences and go for higher education in it... There is just something attractive about it. I feel like science and maths are nice. Like wow intelligence.

But it requires a different kind of intellect for social science and lately I have been really attracted to it.. maybe being from a science background myself.. I seek the knowledge I don't have.

No ma'am. I said and an even bigger blanket.. so that it engulfs you. XD

I am..alone but I just finished murakmi's Men without women with jazz playing in the background.. feels so philosophical now.

What about you? How are you doing? How is the planning going?

[bantinglikewilliam]

Banting dinner day 2!

Hey ho, let's go. This little tiny boxed wine is exactly three glasses of cabernet, La Croix, mediocre Starkist tuna salad and crackers, gyro meat, and mangos.

There's vegetables in tuna salad, right? That counts as a vegetable if ketchup does (does it still?)

No urgent errands to run this afternoon that can't wait 3 hours so yes, it's 3:30pm, and I'm nervous but gonna drink three glasses of wine with dinner for science.

Did you ever notice that Aldi tuna salad is 100x better than the name brand? But I own it, and it must have some nutrients in it, even if it is filled with polyunsaturated fat (boo, if you're not sure why this is a bad thing, it's because the more unsaturated a fat is, the more free radicals it forms in your body. Free radicals are why people say you need to eat antioxidants. It's why more and more processed food manufacturers are switching to "high oleic" aka more saturated varieties of oils...but that doesn't fix the root issue. Even palm oil, which is very saturated and stable, does this. But that's a discussion for another day!). Still, I'm hungry, and it tastes better than I remember, just has a bitter aftertaste.

This wine is definitely more acidic than Coppola's Claret but it does pair well with the gyro meat.

This is not the Indian mango I was expecting. It has a weird aftertaste, like melons and cucumbers do, it's too fibrous, and it makes my mouth itch a little. I have what is known as an "oral pollen allergy" which is another reason I almost never eat fresh fruits and veg. My body basically is telling me "You don't need to eat these things to be healthy." Or at least cook them first. Hard pass. I can always freeze it and then try baking it later.

I must look up which fruits and veg were widely available during different seasons in Banting era England. I'm tempted to fry bananas or plantains and consume that as my fruit, or I can eat baby food, but I might have to stick to things like baked apples because I know most fruits were less sweet and smaller 161 years ago and they definitely couldn't waltz into Whole Foods and get watermelon in January. Someone call a historian! I want my diet to be as historically accurate as possible.

Also, I'm curious now: I'm happy to not drink during the middle of the day, it does feel a bit like a hassle, but are there any cultures left in the world where it is still culturally acceptable to drink like Mad Men and have a three martini lunch? I'm not endorsing it, I will not be drinking before or during working hours even if I work from home, but I'm just curious. There must be, right? My best guess would be somewhere in Eastern Europe, although I'd find it hard to believe if Russians didn't at least proclaim to deem that unacceptable these days.

Although one time during the pandemic this guy from a legit healthcare company called me drunk as hell to see if I would take a survey about my insurance. He pronounced the "Dr." in my address as "Doctor" dead serious and stood by it without apology. He only mildly slurred but did have enough lag time and silly mistakes and even a giggle or two which informed me he was almost certainly not dyslexic or something similar but crunk. I looked up his employer for remote jobs because I figured it would be a sweet gig if he hadn't been fired yet but sadly they required cross country travel for training which wasn't feasible at the time.

Update: Ugh, this tuna salad sucks, I can't finish it. Trying to finish gyro meat, it's fine but technically a few days past expiration, but it's hard to just eat a pile of meat, bruh, even when it's moist and spiced so nice.

And it's almost as hard to drink this much wine, but at least it goes down without chewing. I gotta re-read his pamphlet, it's been a few years, but I don't remember him drinking much water? I could not drink this much wine without water. Oof. It's heavy.

Did my most valiant but could not choke down the last slice of gyro meat. Back in the fridge it goes.

[excusemebutiquit]

I hate living here I want some good food!!!

[writingwithcolor]

Being an Agender, 1st-Gen Indian-American

I’m a first-generation immigrant, with both my parents being Indian immigrants. My mom immigrated to Canada before she came to America (when she was in her late twenties), and is a Canadian citizen. She was born and raised in Ahmedabad, a city in Gujarat. My dad moved to India when he was in his early twenties. He moved from Ahmedabad to Mumbai in his fifth standard, and moved from a Gujarati-medium school to an English-medium one. 

My dad is more fluent in English than my mom, though they both are fluent and speak mostly without an accent. I speak Gujarati more-or-less fluently, since that’s what we spoke at home, but I can barely even write my name. I’m Hindu, as is my family, and a strict vegetarian. I’m agender, but I use she/her and they/them pronouns. 

Beauty Standards

One of the biggest issues in the Indian-American community is the issue of body hair. I’m AFAB, so I was expected to have smooth, hairless legs and arms. The reality was rather different. Since the age of ten, I had more body hair than the boys in my class. I was mocked and called by the name of a TV animal character, whose name was a mispronunciation of my own. No one ever did anything about it. I was eight. My mother, though she meant well, pushed me into waxing and threading and other forms of hair removal since the day I turned eleven. Even now, as a fully-grown adult with my own apartment and my own life, I can’t bring myself to wear shorts or capris without having spent hours making sure my legs are smooth. Body hair is a huge issue that needs to be addressed more, and not just as a few wisps of blonde hair in the armpit region.

Food

It’s complicated. Growing up, we had thaalis (with roti, rice, sweet dal, and shaak [which is a mix of vegetables and spices]) for dinner almost every night. When we didn’t, it was supplemented with foods like pasta, veggie burgers, and khichdi. We made different types of khichdi each time, based off of different familial recipes that were all named after the family member who introduced them. My mom had to make milder food for my sister, and while my sister loves spicy foods now, I’m still not a big fan. A side effect of growing up in a non-white, vegetarian family is that no one in my family has any idea of what white non-vegetarians eat. Like, at all. It’s kind of funny, to be honest. 

Holidays/Religion

My mom is a Vaishnav, and my dad is a Brahmin, so the way they both worship is very different. My dad’s family places a huge emphasis on chanting and prayer, as well as meditation. They mostly pray to capital-G G-d, as the metaphysical embodiment of Grace. My mom’s family, however, places emphasis on– I don’t want to say “idol worship" because of the negative connotations that has– but they worship to murtis, statues that represent our gods. My mom’s favored god to pray to is Krishna, and we have murtis in our home that she performs sevato every day.

We celebrate Janmashtmi, Holi, Diwali, Ganesha Puja, Lakshmi Puja– too many to count, really. We don’t always go all-out, especially on most of the smaller celebrations, but we do try and attend the temple lectures on those days, or host our own. We also celebrate Christmas and Easter secularly. I didn’t even know Christmas was a Christian holiday until I was in elementary school, and Easter until I was in high school.

Micro-Aggressions

Whooo, boy. Where do I start?

When my sister was in first grade, she had a friend. I’ll call her Mary. Mary, upon learning that my sister was not, in fact, Christian, brought an entire Bible to school and forced my sister to read it during recess, saying that otherwise, she wouldn’t be her friend anymore. Mary kept telling my sister that she would go to hell if she didn’t repent, and that our entire family was a group of “ugly sinners.” When my sister came to me for advice, I told her that Mary wasn’t her friend, that Mary wasn’t being nice, and that my sister wasn’t going to go to hell, and that we don’t even believe in hell. When my sister finally stood up to Mary and told her that she wasn’t going to listen to her anymore, Mary got angry and dumped a mini-carton of chocolate milk on her and told her that “now she looks like what she is– a dirty [the Roma slur term].” Not only was that inaccurate, it was extremely racist, and Mary was only reprimanded for the milk-spilling, not the racist remark that came with it. 

On top of that, since I have long hair, I’m always getting asked if so-and-so can touch it, or what I do to get it so long, or why I allow myself to be “shaped by such backwards ideals of women.” My name is never pronounced correctly, and I’ve been asked to give people my “American name” to be called by instead of my actual name. I’ve been called a terrorist, asked why I wasn’t wearing a hijab (by white people btw), and mocked for my food. I’ve been told that I wasn’t “really Indian” because I didn’t have a dot on my forehead. I’ve been told I wasn’t “really Hindu” because I had milk on my plate, by a white boy whose mom was a leader of a local choir.

I grew up in a town where only 4-5% of the population was South Asian, and there were a total of five South Asians in my grade level. The school administration consistently and intentionally placed us in different classes, and I never made a friend that was South Asian until 7th grade. When I came to the school, I was placed in ESOL without even being tested, while also being in the Advanced Readers class. The school didn’t even care to look at my school records before placing me into ESOL based on the color of my skin. 

Things I’d Like to See Less/More Of

I’d like to see less of the “nerd” stereotype, of the “weak, nonathletic” stereotype. I’d like to see less of the “prude” stereotype, of the “I hate my culture/feel I don’t belong” stereotype. I’d like to see less of the “rebellion” stereotype, of the “my parents are so strict and I hate them” stereotype. I never want to see the “unwanted arranged marriage” trope. Ever.

I want to see bulky, tall Indian characters. I’d like to see Indian characters confident in their sexuality, whether that’s not having sex (for LEGITIMATE reasons like risk of STDs, general awkwardness before and after The Deed, and wanting to wait, not “oh my parents said so and also I’m sheltered and innocent”), or having a new sexual partner every night.

I want Indian characters (especially children/teens!!!) proud of their culture and their heritage and their religion, whether that’s Islam, Hinduism, Sikhism, or anything else. I want to see supportive Indian parents, I want to see more than chiding Indian grandmothers and strict Indian fathers. I want to see healthy arranged marriages, or healthy mixed-marriages. I want to see mixed Indian-POC couples, I want to see queer Indian couples.

I want to see body hair on female-presenting characters, I want to see more of India that isn’t “bustling market with the scent of spices in the air” and “poor slums rampant with disease” and “Taj Mahal”. I want to see casual mentions of prayer and Hinduism and Indian culture (a short “My mom’s at the temple, she can’t come pick us up” or a “what is it? i’m in the middle of a holi fight! eep! ugh, gulaab in my mouth” over a phone call, or a “she won’t answer until 12– she’s in her Bharatnatyam class/Gurukul class/doing seva/at the temple” would suffice). I want to see more Indian languages represented than just Hindi. There’s Tamil, Gujarati, Marathi, Nepali, and Kashmiri, just off the top of my head. The language your character speaks depends on the place they come from in India, and they might not even speak Hindi! (I don’t!)

I hate that Indian culture is reduced to “oppressive, strict, and prudish” when it's so much more than that. I hate that Indians are stereotyped to the point where it is a norm, and the companies reinforcing these stereotypes don’t take responsibility for their actions and don’t change. I hate the appropriation of Indian culture (like yoga, pronounced “yogh”, not “yo-gaaa” fyi, the Om symbol, meditation, and Shri Ganapathidada) and how normalized it is in Western society. 

This ended up a lot longer than I had expected, but I hope it helps! Good luck with your writing :)

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[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[newtonsheffield]

Omg molly you freakin queen. Again sorry if that whole chef thing was asking for too much. You’re so busy already. But damn girl. I can’t stop imagining it now. Kate having Anthony taste her food during late night recipe experiments. “Cm’on Chef, a little spice wouldn’t hurt you” Kneading dough for the naan that Anthony he annoying calls “naan bread” and Kate wraps her arms around Anthony to show him how. I’d imagine Anthony being a full on stuffy English prick and doesn’t want to change his fathers menu. And like Collette from Ratatouille and Kates like No! Food is about warmth and love and passion! And honestly this man isn’t looking for an opportunity to lick of that scrumptious sauce Sharma just made off her clavicle? You mean that’s not what he dreams about at night?

omg Goose as a matrie d? Free food for Edwina cause honestly that should just be canon throughout all your AUs for the shit Kate and Anthony put her through.

Simmering? Ugh. Yes. Please. but also like Heat? Or Temper, which ironically is not only Anthony’s loveliest trait when it comes to good ole Katie but also an Indian cooking technique. Girl you got me simmering. Oooh.

Can someone get Simone and Johnathan to wear chefs’ jackets? For science of course.

Okay OKAY I always love hearing AU ideas and some of my long term ones are wrapping up in the next few weeks so I’m scouting for ideas and THIS is quickly climbing the list.

Okay but imagine Anthony finishing a dish and Kate comes in behind him adding a shit tonne of spices like “Yes, yes, now it’s good, send it, go, before he notices.”

Kate watching Anthony cook arms crossed late at night after the restaurant closes, sighing sadly.

“Anthony I’m so sorry.”

And he’s confused clearly, “What for?! What have you done?!”

“No it must have just been really hard to live your life this way.”

“What way? What are you-?”

“Being allergic to flavor.”

“Okay, very funny.” Anthony huffs turning back to the stove but it catches a little in his throat because Kate’s laughing, with her head thrown back, and the music of it is ringing through the kitchen and it’s doing something very funny to the pit of his stomach.

Because Anthony believes that kitchens should be well ordered, there are rules and regulations to cooking, you can’t just do whatever you want. But Kate Sharma is like a hurricane. There’s always music playing when she cooks, and spices hang in the air like a cloud, and it’s nothing but chaos. And he hates it, but most of all he hates that her food is always incredible.

And neither of them can stop staring at Goose who blushes every time Edwina’s on shift. Just waitressing to make her way through university.

And he’s also annoyed because what he really wants is to ask Kate if she’ll let him eat dessert off her instead.

[unsteadyimagines]

Bittersweet Reunion - Anon Request (Spencer Reid x Reader)

SUMMARY: ���It’s when Spencer gets out of prison. Basically, it had been months and you both missed each other and you felt so bad about how beaten he had gotten so you go out of your way to take care of him.”

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: Smut

NOTE:

***Feedback is always welcome for future improvement!

——-

Defeat. Drained. Utterly exhausted. All of those painted on Spencer’s face as he’s discharged from prison. His wrongful imprisonment has clearly taken a toll on him, and I couldn’t feel more guilty. Mexico has clearly not treated him very well.

Seeing him for the first time in god knows how many months felt surreal. Spencer never allowed me to visit him whilst he was imprisoned, in fear of hurting me even more then he thinks he had already done so. In some ways I felt hurt thinking he didn’t want to see me all those months, but I now understand that he was just trying to protect me. However, seeing him now, in his defeated state, it’s now my job to protect him. Care for him, love him. I’d do anything to make sure he’s safe.

As soon as his glassy eyes meet mine, I can feel sobs rake my body whilst my legs move as fast as they can in the direction of Spencer. His arms are already out by the time I reach him, jumping into his shaky arms and feeling his familiar warm touch. Something I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine, if not faster. I run my fingers through his unruly hair, that’s one of his favourite feelings. Neither of us had uttered a word, not just yet. We’re both silent, content in the stillness we both emitted in an otherwise chaotic and overwhelming environment. When I hear quiet sniffles drawn from Spencer, I decide to break the silence.

“I missed you so much.” I muttered into his warm chest, never wanting to let go.

“I missed you too, so much.” Spencer replies, pulling me into his chest tighter, which seems impossible as we’re already as close to one another as we possibly could. Both of our bodies pressed firmly against the other, the heat increasing.

Once I pull away, I look up to see Spencer’s face plastered with a smile, which automatically makes my smile grow bigger and bigger. Spencer suddenly grabs my face in his hands and places his lips on mine in a sweet and gentle kiss, reminding me that we are still in the presence of prison officers. I pull away only for him to pepper my cheeks with kisses, making me giggle and pull away slightly. I nod my head in the direction of the car, signalling to Spencer that we should leave. Gripping my left hand tightly, Spencer laces our fingers together as we make our way to the parking lot.

The entire journey home Spencer’s hand gripped my thigh firmly, not wanting to physically be apart ever again. During the car ride, Spencer tells me how prison was, the good parts, if you could even call it that, and the not so good parts. My heart hurt hearing Spencer as he details the fights he got into, the treatment he received from prison officers and how alone he felt.

Once we arrive home and walk into the front door, I turn around and see Spencer standing there, taking everything in. The all too familiar house, the smells… everything. Watching him look around makes me feel so content and safe. My baby is finally home.

“Good to be home, huh?” I rhetorically ask, my eyes feeling like they may tear up again. Spencer chuckles, his mouth quivering slightly, obviously just as emotional as I am.

“You could say that.” Spencer answers, closing the door behind him and making a beeline straight towards me. His arms enclose around my body once again, although this time we don’t have numerous prison officers observing our reunion. I let out a big sigh, finally feeling like things are starting to get better. I can tell Spencer feels the same, his head resting on top of mine, not once loosening his grip.

I could stay in this position all day, I really could. But I knew Spencer was probably desperate for a proper shower, a home cooked meal and his comfortable bed.

Lightly giving his neck a kiss, I whisper in his ear. “Why don’t you get settled back in, take a shower and I’ll start cooking dinner for you.” Feeling Spencer’s head nod on mine, he hesitantly releases his grip and makes his way upstairs. Walking into the kitchen, I begin preparing what I hope is a delicious meal for Spencer, god knows what the food is like in prison. I’m assuming it’s not exactly what someone would call a five-star meal, anyway.

Trying to make Spencer feel at home again, I decided on cooking some Indian food, one of Spencer’s favourite cuisines and also picked up some chocolate donuts with sprinkles from his favourite bakery. I felt giddy with excitement having Spencer home and being able to do things like this for him again.

Approximately 20 minutes had passed, and Spencer still hadn’t returned downstairs. Turning all the pots to a low heat, I hurriedly make my way upstairs to check on him. Slowly walking into the bathroom, the room is covered in a thin cloud of steam and the sound of the shower remains. Through the thick cloud of steam I can see into the shower, Spencer’s hair is slicked back away from his face, leaning his forehead on his arms which are leaning on the shower wall, his head held down. His previously tired eyes are now closed, his breathing deep. 

Quietly closing the door behind me, I begin removing my clothes one at a time until I’m completely naked. I open the shower door and am met with the hot water cascading down my hair and onto my body, my muscles instantly easing. Pressing my front against Spencer’s back and wrapping my arms around him from behind, he jumps slightly at the contact before relaxing once he realises it’s me.

I give him a kiss on his back, resting my head gently there. Kissing my way around both of his wet shoulders makes me question if he expects anything to happen tonight. It could go either way - he’d be pretty exhausted but we also haven’t been intimate in months. I suppose it might be better for me to wait and see if he initiates anything.

Spencer turns and spins me around so it’s now my head that’s under the showerhead. I gasp softly at the hot water trickling down, enveloping me. Pulling me in, Spencer kisses me sweetly, running his hands through my soaked hair. I hum in delight, my eyes fluttering shut at the physical closeness I so dearly missed.

“Can I?” Spencer quietly asks, staring deeply into my eyes. I can see how vulnerable he is, his eyes darting back and forth across mine while waiting for my answer. Giving him a confused expression, I question him.

“Can you what?”

Rather than answering my question, like before, Spencer slowly meets his lips with mine, pulling me closer to him than before, his wet skin pressed against mine softly. The droplets cover our bodies as his tongue meets mine, our breaths becoming more laboured and quick. The feeling of our wet skin meeting each other’s is a feeling I’m sure we both missed incredibly.

I begin trailing kisses down Spencers body, his chest and stomach inhaling and exhaling deeply, reacting to my touch. Slowly making my way down his body until I’m on my knees, I reach his lower abdomen. Looking up I can see Spencer’s head thrown back, his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed. My hands grip both of his hips before I kiss his inner thighs, watching his eyes flutter at the sensitive area. I take his cock in my hands, slowly pumping him up and down, watching his reaction in awe. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Spencer in this vulnerable trance, it encourages me to continue. 

I can tell he’s had enough teasing, so I take him in my mouth, and I’m consumed with a warmth spreading through the entirety of my body when Spencer lets out a grunt, biting his lip. I coat his cock with my spit, putting my hands on his hips once again and wrapping my lips around him even deeper, shaking my head from side to side.

“Ugh fuck!” Spencer groans, bucking his hips up, causing my eyes to roll back and squeeze my nails into his sides. I can feel myself get even more turned on seeing him in such a state. A state that I caused.

Pulling back for a second to give myself a moment to breathe, I look up at him through my lashes, smirking when I see utter pleasure painted on his face. Closing my mouth around his cock again, Spencer runs his fingers through my long, damp hair before bunching it up at the back and holding it in a ponytail. His left hand has a strong grip on my hair - every few seconds he grips tighter, causing my roots to slightly sting, but in the best possible way. His right hand is stroking my face, while he mutters words of encouragement to me which causes me to moan loudly against his cock as I lap my tongue around in circles.

  “Fuck yes baby, you take me so well.” Spencer mouths through hisses, his release approaching quicker and quicker. Wanting to see him come undone, I begin pushing his hips back and forth towards me, signalling for him to take control. Spencer understands as he’s now gripping my hair with both of his hands and thrusting himself faster and deeper into my mouth, fucking my face.

“Oh Y-Y/N, that f-feels so… so good.” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching. I slowly snake one of my hands down to my inner thighs, running my wet fingers over my pussy and begin rubbing my clit. My moans reverberate onto Spencer’s cock, drawing him closer and closer to his climax.

By this point, nothing can come out of his mouth other than rugged pants and deep sighs. I take him out of my mouth and begin pumping him with my wet hand, while the other still works on my clit. My legs begin shaking at the immense pleasure that I too can feel my release coming. Jerking him hastily, Spencer’s head hits the shower wall behind him, causing drops of hot water to dribble down his panting body.

“Are you going to cum for me baby?” I ask innocently, looking up at Spencer’s face with a smirk.

Spencer’s instinctual response is to shut me up by forcing his cock back passed my lips, thrusting once again. His hips buck up into my mouth and I’m determined to make him finish. I remove my hand from my pussy and push his hips back against the shower wall to prevent him from moving.

“Shit! Right there… right there baby – yes! I’m gonna cum” Spencer gasps, holding my hair back again.

This time, I wrap my mouth around Spencer’s cock so deep I can feel him hitting the back of my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. I flinch in surprise when I feel Spencer’s whole body convulse, his hands immediately holding the back of my head when I feel him release down my throat.

He lets out a massive groan of pleasure, his knees bucking slightly before letting go of my head. I swallow and leave one last deep kiss on his groin area, standing up to meet Spencer’s hazy eyes, his smile lazily plastered over his face.

“I want to fuck you so bad.” He admits, kissing me sloppily. I moan into his mouth and wrap my arms around his neck. Spencer grips my ass and hoists me up, now wrapping my legs around his waist and opens the shower door. We slowly make our way from the bathroom to the bedroom soaking wet, but neither of us could care.

As soon as my eyes flutter open, they’re met with a light mist of smoke entering through the bedroom door, making me fumble out of Spencer’s arms and run downstairs and into the kitchen, leaving Spencer confused and slightly concerned.

“SHIT! YOUR DINNER!”

Tags: @emmalvei-blog​