#I can always have access to my stove and oven

[chartreuxcatz]

where’s that post about the friends who bought a plot of land together and lived in separate houses on that land? That’s what i need. I need my own house. With friends just a yard away. A small house. Apartment sized. Part of me just wants to build my own. But the point is I like the idea of living with friends but I really need my own space. My own bathroom my own washer my own dryer my own kitchen. It would be easier to let myself have moments of productivity when i can guarantee that no one else is in the house.

[chronicpaingirlie]

Tips For Baking While Disabled :) <3

1. do stuff the “wrong” way [pt: do stuff the “wrong” way]

- my number one tip for literally everything is to do it the “wrong” way if that is the way that will make it accessible to you

- sit down while you prepare stuff. use a machine to knead your bread if it’s too hard on your hands. take as many breaks as you need. use disposable items like parchment paper, foil pans, and paper plates if washing dishes is too much. make things work for you however you need to

2. question everything [pt: question everything]

- if you have the spoons & the brain power, plan ahead & question what the recipe says you have to do

- do you really have to flour the counter & make an extra mess just to knead dough, or can you knead it in the bowl instead? do you really have to use an extra dish for this step?

- there’s lots of things like that that recipes will state as fact that can be adjusted to save you some effort

3. if possible, recruit help [pt: if possible, recruit help]

- i have a bunch of younger siblings who will almost always jump at the chance to help me bake stuff

- see if u can find a family member/friend/housemate/caregiver etc who is willing (maybe even excited!!) to split the baking workload with you

- it fr makes it so much easier even just to have someone who will help you whisk together your ingredients or grab something you’ve forgotten to spare you the effort of moving across the kitchen

4. lay out everything you’ll need ahead of time [pt: lay out everything you’ll need ahead of time]

- this includes all the dishes, utensils, and ingredients you’re going to use for the recipe

- this helps soooo much with my combination of adhd + brain fog problems (aka forgetting things and getting distracted constantly)

- i like to make a designated area (e.g., on the stove or on a separate part of the counter) to immediately put what i’ve used so I know that i’ve used it; this ensures that I don’t add something twice & that i don’t miss any ingredients

- it also makes less moving around in the moment/less getting up & down ! a godsend fr

5. take advantage of built-in resting times [pt: take advantage of built-in resting times]

- when stuff is in the oven, sit or lay down !! it’s free resting time !! pleaseee take advantage of it

6. make cleanup as easy as possible [pt: make cleanup as easy as possible]

- i like to put something under my workspace (bath towel, tablecloth, paper towels, etc) so that when i inevitably spill something, i can just pick it up and shake it off instead of having to scrub my counters

- if you can spare the spoons, scrape off and rinse out the dishes you used so nothing gets hardened & caked on

- fill everythingggg with hot water and leave it in the sink for later!! don’t push yourself too hard & try to do dishes right away; the hot water will make it so much easier for later & you’ll get a chance to rest

7. you don’t have to do everything from scratch [pt: you don’t have to do everything from scratch]

- baking something from a box is still baking!! boxed is good & will help you save spoons but still scratch that baking itch

- you can make just one element of your baking & buy another - e.g., buy pre-made pie crusts and make the filling yourself

- buy pre-chopped/frozen fruits for crumbles and tarts, buy pre-made frosting for the cake you bake, grab some cookie dough from the store and throw it in the oven !!

8. experiment & adjust [pt: experiment & adjust]

- find what works for you & what doesn’t. figure out what recipes you can do & what ones you can’t. see how much effort you’re physically & mentally able to put into baking (without overtaxing yourself!) & take that into consideration for the next time(s) you bake.

- i highly recommend writing down the stuff you figure out - it helps me to both remember & stick to my limits & saves me from pushing myself too hard

(some misc stuff under the cut bc this is so long)

a few things to invest in if you can:

1. kitchen stool [pt: kitchen stool]

- if you’re like me and have Shitty Legs, this means so much less standing & has been a lifesaver for me tbh

2. hand mixer and/or stand mixer [pt: hand mixer and/or stand mixer]

- if you have the strength to both hold up a hand mixer for up to five minutes at time, and to sit up while you do it, they’re almost always the cheaper option, and they take up less storage space. if not, the stand mixer likely will be more expensive & will take up more counter space/storage space, but will be a lot more worth it for you

- check ebay or local online markets for secondhand ones if you can’t afford new ones - I found a used but perfectly good stand mixer for $30 !

3. latex/rubber gloves [pt: latex/rubber gloves]

- makes cleanup so much easier (especially if you have a hard time with hygiene, e.g. bathing or washing hands, extra especially with stuff like batter or dough that can be harder to get off, or with bad textures that will be on your hands)

- reusable ones you can drop in some water and clean off later if you don’t have spoons to do cleanup right away, and disposable can just go in the trash

4. boxed mixes [pt: boxed mixes]

- you’re still baking even if it’s not entirely from scratch!! boxed mixes mean fewer ingredients & steps, and shorter amounts of time spent upright/moving around

—

a few links:

justtherecipe.com clears away everything except the recipe for you - no misc stories from the author or ads popping up every 5 seconds . genuinely cannot recommend enough

baking with chronic fatigue

baking with hand pain

a few no-knead bread recipes (link 1) (link 2) (link 3)

[interpolanticssuperfan]

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)  

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow. 

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit. 

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.” 

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.” 

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported  jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer. 

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him. 

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already. 

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.” 

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.) 

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?” 

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before? 

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting. 

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something. 

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop. 

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.” 

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response. 

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse. 

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know? 

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips. 

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet. 

[basementdoll]

Spanish Inquisition

Wednesday 13

What does this part-time Murderdoll, chicken lovin’, eyebrow shavin’, horror movie watchin’ dread head have to say for himself when Cardinal Doran asks him your questions and applies the thumbscrews? Read on and find out. Noose of the world: Brother Naki.

Weds: “Right, you must be here to ask me lots of offensive questions?”

Hammer: Usually when we do this we only get questions about how gay are you or how much dick do you love to suck, but this time we’ve only got questions about chickens.

Weds: “Cool! Questions from real fans!”

READ THAT YOU HAD A PET CHICKEN, OMAR. DID YOU JUST GET SICK OF LOOKING AFTER HIM AND EAT HIM?

Pear Black, Via Email

Weds: “No. Unfortunately, not being farmers or anything and not knowing how to take care of chickens, he died. We had a little chicken coop at the side of our guitar amps and our drums. It was the summer, we’d go to practice and leave him and he died of heat exhaustion. So I chopped off his legs and made a little memorial for him by hanging them off my guitar but they got ripped off during one gig. Peace Omar.” [Thumps heart emotively.]

Hammer: What benefits are there to having a chicken instead of a normal pet like a cat?

Weds: “None. The reason I got the chicken was cos when I was a kid people always told me that people like Ozzy Osbourne and Alice Cooper used to bite the heads off chickens live on stage and drink their blood. So for me, I’ve always associated chickens with rock’n’ roll. I never wanted to kill the chicken, I just always wanted it to be there. I'd recommend your readers get a cat instead.”

Hammer: But chickens are good for voodoo rituals as well.

Weds: “And for feathers…”

Hammer: Say if you were going to cook a chicken, what recipe would you use?

Weds: “I’m a big fan of Cajun chicken. I bake chicken pretty much every day of my life, except when I’m on tour because you don’t have access to a stove. You put the chicken in the oven and sprinkle it with salt, pepper and spices and cook it until it isn’t pink in the middle - unless you want to get sick.”

WITH ERIK JOINING NAPOLEON BLOWNAPART, BEN IN NOCTURNE, ACEY IN TRASH LIGHT VISION AND JOEY IN SLIPKNOT, IS THERE ANY HOPE FOR THE MURDERDOLLS GETTING BACK TOGETHER?

Decaying Wench, Hell, Third Door On The Left

Weds: “Well, yeah. There’s always hope. Everybody’s doing their own thing. Joey went back to Slipknot and I started doing this so everybody had to find something to do. I can only speak for myself, because I don’t know what the other guys are doing, but I’m putting 100 per cent into this and it is my number one priority, I’m going to tour this record for as long as I want to. But when the time comes right, everybody feels like doing another Murderdolls record and everybody is on the same page, then yeah, I’ll do it. But there’s no way it’ll happen next year.”

Hammer: How has the material off ‘Transylvania 90210’ been going down?

Weds: “Amazing. I was expecting to get raked across the coals but the kids have been digging it and the reviews from the journalists have been really good as well. People are telling me that it’s much more diverse than the Murderdolls; a lot more like a rollercoaster ride and it’s got many different levels to it.”

HEY TUESDAY, DON’T YOU THINK THAT THE MURDERDOLLS SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY BAD GOFF PORN WEBSITE?

Dan, Chiswick

Weds: “I don’t go to goth porn websites and I don’t think it sounds anything like one. Frankenstein Drag Queen sounds more like a goth porn website.”

Hammer: What are your views on pornography?

Weds: “It happens. I don’t find myself ringing lines or going on websites but if that’s what people do and it makes them happy then more power to them. You won’t be finding me turning up in any porn films by the way. Unlike Fred Durst.”

Hammer: He didn’t come out of that looking well.

Weds: “Fred Durst doesn’t come out of anything looking well.”

SAW YOUR TATTOOS IN METAL HAMMER AND WANTED TO KNOW THE TATTOOIST’S NAME?

Chris, South Africa

Weds: “There was this old guy that I used to go to in my home town of Charlotte, North Carolina but the guy pissed me off and I don’t go to him any more. My new guy is called Mark Evans, who did my stitches which are healing up and he did the new Michael Myers tattoo. I don’t promote my old guy because he was a douchebag.”

Hammer: Did you weep like a six year old girl watching ET when you got them done?

Weds: “No. As I was getting them done I was watching Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure so I was laughing. They hurt though. The ones on the wrists, I think I would have been better just chopping my hands off and sewing them back on: it would have hurt less. It was pretty painful.”

AS THE FUTURE PRESIDENT OF KFC, WHICH DO YOU PREFER: POPCORN CHICKEN OR A FAMILY BUCKET?

Cyhiraeth 13, Via Email

Weds: “Family bucket. Popcorn chicken is different here. In America it is actually just what is left over from the other chicken in the bottom of the tray dumped into a bucket. But also the way you guys cut chicken here is totally different. It baffles me, I don’t know what I’m eating. In America you have a leg, a breast, a thigh and a wing. Over here you have a throat, an ass, an elbow…”

Hammer: We don’t have chicken’s elbows.”

Weds: “What the hell am I eating here? It’s all fucking mixed up, I think I had a throat today!”

Hammer: Just say you developed a food intolerance to chicken what would you do then?

Weds: “I’d eat turkey. I’d just move from one bird to another. And turkey’s better for you.”

Hammer: You should try ostrich. Terminator X, the old DJ from Public Enemy, is now an ostrich farmer in the USA, that’s why he doesn’t go on tour with them because someone’s got to stay home and look after the ostriches.

Weds: “I can’t say that I’ve seen a Kentucky Fried Ostrich restaurant yet but when I do I’ll stop by. I fancy a KFO.”

RECENTLY MY MUMMY BROUGHT HOME A BABY CHICK. AS YOU USED TO HAVE A PET CHICKEN, CAN YOU GIVE ME A FEW TIPS ON HOW TO MAKE IT BE QUIET? ITS TWEETING IS DRIVING ME INSANE.

Eddie, London

Weds: “There’s no way to keep them quiet. Keep them out of the heat. Don’t feed them after midnight. They will actually eat anything you put in front of them. They’ll eat chicken, so give your chicken some KFC and watch it become a cannibal.”

IF YOU COULD REMAKE A HORROR MOVIE AND STAR IN IT, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHICH CHARACTER WOULD YOU TAKE?

Charlotte Humphreys, Andover

Weds: “Probably The Abominable Dr Phibes and I would be Dr Phibes because he was the master of revenge and it is my favourite Vincent Price movie. He didn’t really even have to talk to be frightening.”

HEY WEDNESDAY, I WAS WONDERING IF YOU MANAGED TO EAT ONE MILLION PIECES OF FRIED CHICKEN IN 2004 LIKE YOU PREDICTED YOU WOULD?

Storm McCracken, Paraparaumu, New Zealand

Weds: “There’s a good possibility, yeah. I lost count along the way but probably. Not this year though because I turned over a new leaf and now I only eat grilled chicken. I’ve been trying to make sure that I don’t have a heart attack before I’m 30.”

Hammer: Speaking as a bit of a tubby bastard, I was wondering how you stay so slim on such a chicken rich diet?

Weds: “It is basically not eating fried chicken. I went on a diet and I lost 40lbs which shows you how bad it can be.”

COULD A REGULAR PERSON KILL A SHEEP WITH JUST ONE PUNCH TO ITS FACE? I DON’T THINK SO.

Ken B Wild, The Fields 

Weds: “Hmmm. It depends on the person. Me? No. I can’t punch a sheep to death but say you’re Tor Johnson from the Ed Wood films, the big guy, he could probably hit a sheep once and break its spine.”

Hammer: I reckon The Thing from The Fantastic Four could waste a sheep.

Weds: “Well, Tor Johnson is probably the closest a human has ever got to being The Thing.

Hammer: What is the biggest creature that you’ve ever killed? Purposefully, that is. Not just forgetting that you’ve left a chicken in a hot room.

Weds: Probably a grasshopper. I don’t hurt animals. When I was a kid I used to do mean stuff but I don’t now. I go out of my way not to hurt stuff.”

DO YOU STILL BELIEVE IN THE EASTER BUNNY?

Goldfinger Rule 502, Via Email

Weds: “Hell yeah! He just came to my house a couple of months ago. He brought my kid a box of candy and $20.”

Hammer: What are your favorite kinds of sweets?

Weds: “I love peanut M&MS. Those things are addictive. I will eat about 10 bags a day if I don’t watch it.”

DEAR WEDNESDAY 13, ARE THINGS STILL TENSE BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR RIVAL THURSDAY 14?

Antibody, Via Email

Weds: “Yeah, we’re still going head to head. One day we’ll meet and slug it out but I will win.”

Hammer: It’s Wednesday the 13th soon, do you do anything out of the ordinary on those days?

Weds: “Not normally but this year we are doing the London show so that should be really remarkable.”

DOES YOUR MOTHER FEEL ASHAMED THAT HER GROWN UP SON FEELS THE NEED TO DRESS LIKE A SPAZZ AND WEAR BAD MAKE-UP?

Eyen, Poshland

Weds: “My mom’s pretty proud of me. She goes out and buys all of the magazines and everything else. She is totally supportive of me and is into what we’re doing.”

WHO WOULD WIN IN A FIGHT BETWEEN A GRIZZLY BEAR AND A SIBERIAN TIGER?

Bobby G, Via Email

Weds: “A grizzly man! You can’t fight a bear! I’ve seen a bear- you can’t fight them.”

Hammer: You saw a bear?

Weds: “On TV. In a zoo. You can’t fight them.”

Hammer: My Chemical Romance got attacked by a moose once. What is the biggest animal you’ve ever been attacked by?

Weds: “I got attacked by a Doberman when I was eight years old. And they can kill you. The dog had cancer and it had this giant tumour on its side and they were going to put it to sleep in a few weeks. But it came up to me while I was on my trampoline and put its legs up and started growling. I was like, ‘Oh shit, what do I do?’ So I decided to try and run down the hill to get home and the dog jumped at me, knocked me down and I ate grass. It never bit me but it stayed right on my ass growling and I just cried all the way home. Which is OK if you’re eight: a Doberman could bite your arm off!”

Hammer: If you say so. Are you nervous about dogs now?

Weds: “I’m not a big dog fan. I like cats and small dogs but big dogs give me the old phobia.”

ISN’T WEDNESDAY A GIRL’S NAME, LIKE THAT BINT OUT OF THE ADDAMS FAMILY? SHOULDN’T YOU BY RIGHTS BE CALLED PUGSLEY 13?

Mr D Monkey, No Fixed Abode

Weds: “Well you know, I don’t have to buy the rights to be named after the day of the week and yeah, I was totally inspired by the character out of The Addams Family, I’ve always admitted that and never tried to hide it. She was always much cooler than Pugsley because he was a little fat guy.”

WHY DON’T YOU HAVE A JASON VOORHEES TATTOO?

War Machine, Via Email

Weds: “It’s in the process. I’m getting Voorhees and Freddie very soon. So gimme some time dude!”

WEDNESDAY, WHY DO YOU SHAVE YOUR EYEBROWS OFF? IT MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A PLOPHEAD.

He Man, Reading

Weds: “A plophead? A guy with a plop on his head? What is that? If you mean shit head, say shit head. You know, I shave my eyebrows off for one simple reason: my hair is blond. When my eyebrows grow out they are blond, it just doesn’t look good. I don’t have cool eyebrows, so I shave them off. You can hardly see them anyway. I do notice not having them because of the sweat. If you ever see me on stage squinting like this [scrunches up face as if in agony] that means my eyes are burning out of my fucking head.”

[ebdanon]

hope you're alright after work <3 and tw for bugs and another long ask lmao

to be honest, we don't have access to mental health resources, that kind of stuff is expensive here, and we already spent a bunch on trying to figure out what was physically wrong with both of us first, during which time my husband (he got ibs) was not working because it was physically impossible for him, and I (thyroid issues) stopped getting paid from the freelance work I do (I'm still owed about 10k which is enough for a down payment on an apartment in the most expensive part in my country) which put us in a ridiculously tight spot. we had to move out of our apartment and start living with my in-laws, which is where more crazy has just been tacked on. it's been a very shitty couple of years in terms of what other people have been doing that directly affects us, but we're trudging on anyway. we finally started applying for jobs abroad, which we couldn't really do until we moved because it was constantly dealing with doctors and with health issues, and scrambling together money for bills and rent and overall living, and then the building got infected with cockroaches which was the cherry on top when we both finally said "we're outta here" and moved out in like 2 days (we knew the consequences of doing that). the day we decided to do that, we were up until 5am - me shrieking at each new baby cockroach I saw, and my husband killing them (I'm terrified of bugs), because a cockroach laid some eggs in a door frame in the apartment. that same week our vacuum made a loud noise and smoke just started coming out of it and it broke, the stovetop also broke, a repairman came and tried to fix it a bunch of times so we had no stove for 4-5 days (which was awful because my husband has to eat carefully cooked meals, and the only thing we could use to cook was the oven, which is ridiculously limiting on an already limited diet), and two of the ceiling lights went out. and then I got a flare up (different health issue) on top of everything which meant I was in bed for a couple of days. it was the worst week of 2023.

we've been applying for the last 6 months, and it's been nothing but rejections because we require visas to move to the countries we're applying to (it's the literal explanation we've been receiving which is a great thing as it's not our skills or something), but it's fine, one of us will find a job at some point (I hope soon) and we'll get to get out of this shithole of a country filled with shitty people. I'm definitely getting a therapist when we're out of here though, I've wanted to talk to one for years but my plan has always been to do that when I leave this country. Mental health is very much taboo here sadly, which contributes to many of the issues people tend to face. Also fun fact, the last time we applied for jobs abroad was at the end of 2019, and then the pandemic happened which meant all the embassy shut down and the applications got canceled (it was a different application system back then). The plan was to get the marriage certificate and start applying again, but the drama happened and we needed to decompress. Then the plan was to start asap after the decompression and then all the health issues happened. Have you ever seen a train wreck lmao it's just me trying to get the hell out of this country since I was 12 BUT IT WILL HAPPEN ONE DAY I JUST KNOW IT WILL (can you feel the desperation lmao)

i know that may have sounded worrisome but don't worry about me and my lore-filled asks, things will work out, they always do

i really hope you guys are able to get the hell out soon :( the job market here in america (idk where ur applying but might be the same elsewhere anyway because the pandemic fucked everything up for everyone) is absolutely atrocious rn so i wish you the best of luck!! you’re right when you say things work out i know they will for you 🫶 it just takes time unfortunately :( but hopefully soon

also as a fellow renter im crying for you with that apartment stuff jeez. it always feels like everything happens at once tbh

[realinstar]

8 Things to Remember While Apartment

Hunting in Hongdae  

My little family and I moved to Seoul, South Korea, for my husband’s new assignment in December 2013. We were really excited about this opportunity but honestly had no idea what to expect. Not too long after we arrived in our new country, we had to start finding that perfect place to call home for the next three years. No pressure, right?  South Korean apartment hunting can be a bit different than looking in the US. Here are a few things to remember while you’re finding your new home.

Get a Good Realtor or Two or Three.

You don’t look for an apartment, your realtor does it for you. When you get to your housing office, they will provide you with a list of realtors to use in the area you’re looking for. You contact a realtor with your home preferences and then they find homes for you to see. Your realtor is the one who negotiates the contract and also the person you’ll be paying your rent to. Keep in mind that every realtor has connections with different apartments; it’s perfectly fine – and expected – to meet up with a few realtors until you find the right fit and the home you want.  

High rise vs Villa vs House

There are three different types of homes you can look at in Korea. The most common are high rises and villas, and the least common are single-family houses. A high rise is just what you can expect: A building with five or more floors, typically in a complex with other high-rise buildings. The positives of these are complex amenities such as fitness centers and playgrounds, elevators, and parking garages. Villas are apartments in small buildings, usually four or fewer floors. These usually don’t have elevators and don’t offer the amenities like the high rises, but can be comfortable and quieter. Houses are smaller than US homes, but not by too much, and they are not as common as the others. Most homes are older than villas or high rises, but they have the added bonus of small yards and no shared walls.

Keep Parking in Mind

Parking can sometimes be a challenge in Korea. High rises will have parking garages under the buildings. You could be fighting for a parking spot if it’s a particularly busy evening, but you’ll be protected from the elements (cold winters, hot summers). Villas sometimes have garages but most have open parking, covered or street, and you’ll be looking for a spot if it’s crowded.

Houses will have their own parking.

Ask What’s Included  

Most apartments will include internet and Korean cable. You could get membership to the fitness center if there is one, and access to any other amenities and perks your place might have. Ask your realtor what you’ll get.

How Many Bedrooms?  

When we were looking for homes, we wanted a place with at least three bedrooms and our realtor was good about finding that for us. We actually ended up with a four-bedroom apartment. Your realtor will be able to find the right-sized apartment for you because there are so many options. Keep in mind that the bedrooms are usually smaller, except for the master. Also, the master bedroom is separate the home from the other bedrooms.

What’s in the Bathrooms?

Again, remind your realtor what you’re looking for: whether you want one or two bathrooms. Korean apartments have “wet” bathrooms, meaning they don’t have a shower curtain and there’s a drain in the floor and a lip on the door so water doesn’t escape. Usually, one bathroom in the apartment will have a bathtub, but not always both. The bathrooms can be a whole range of sizes, too.

And the Kitchen?

Kitchens aren’t too different from American homes. The ovens are smaller and regular baking pans won’t fit (think 15” or smaller). The stoves are mostly gas. The fridges are regular size. There’s plenty of storage. Oh, but the sinks are different – they are bigger and have NO garbage disposable. Plenty of homes have dishwashers, too.

Conclusion  

Koreans have apartments living down. There is plenty of storage for all your belongings, so when you’re looking at apartments start thinking about what you have and where you want to put it. Apartments are a great size, we actually live in a home that’s just as big as ours was back at our last duty station. Finding a home in Korea can be daunting at first, but take your time and don’t settle.

Your perfect place is out there! Find Your New Home at our Website.

[breelandwalker]

Beating The Heat On The Cheap

For all my European darlings who are suffering through this horrible heat wave, my American friends who don't always have access to air conditioning, and anyone else who needs it....

Here are some tips on how to survive the heat of summer at home when you have next to no money and only household basics to work with.

(I'd love it if readers would reblog this and add their own ideas - people need all the help they can get right now!)

Stay hydrated. This is the most important thing. You're going to sweat a LOT and your body needs that replenished as often as possible. Drink WATER as much as possible and cold is best. Soda won't cut the mustard and sports drinks may replenish your electrolytes, but they are not meant for subsistence. If you need to flavor your water to make it more palatable, do it. And I know cold tea is anathema to some, but a glass of sweet or citrusy iced tea might be just the thing to get you through.

Wear loose, breezy clothing. I know the instinct is to wear your smallest, briefest summer garments, but sometimes wearing something larger, looser, and flowy helps to cool you down. The movement of the fabric creates a little bit of a breeze to draw heat away from your skin and helps all that sweating actually cool you down.

Draw the shades. If you have curtains or blinds or window shades, cover the windows, especially on the sunny side of your home. Shading the place will help keep the heat out, at least a little.

Use fans and appliances judiciously. Keep the air moving. I know sometimes it's just blowing hot air around, but it's better than stagnating. Also if you have an exhaust fan above your stove, USE IT. Draw off some of that heat from your cooking and for the love of all things holy, try not to use the oven. (Also, if you're not using your desktop computer or gaming system, unplug it for a while - those things generate a lot of heat!)

Eat cool and light. Try to avoid making meals that are going to heat up the house. If you can, make cold meals or use the microwave instead of the stovetop or oven. If you have an outdoor grill, use that for the evening meal instead of the stove. Also, if you have a blender handy, smoothies are a great way to cool down and also get in a few servings of fruit or vegetables.

Swamp coolers are your friend. If you've got a towel, a drink cooler, a bag of ice, and a box fan, you can make a homemade swamp cooler as well. Put the towel on the floor and the drink cooler on top. Fill the cooler with ice and position the fan so that it's blowing over and around the open cooler from less than two feet away. Elevate it on a box or chair if necessary. This isn't going to cool your entire home, but it can cool a small space and provides a little relief. Just be aware that there will be some sweating from the cooler and you'll need to replace the ice after a while. (The meltwater may be good for watering the garden or doing the washing up though.)

Cold showers take the edge off of many things. At the end of the day, take a shower that's a few degrees cooler than body temperature. Even if you don't do a full scrub or wash your hair, get in and sluice down, or use a pitcher of room-temperature water to give yourself a rinse. This helps your whole body cool down, cleans off the sweat of the day so you don't get breakouts, and helps you sleep cooler and less sticky. (Also, try sleeping under the duvet cover without the duvet inside to stay cooler at bedtime. And definitely have a fan in the bedroom.)

Make some homemade cold spray. This is something I used to make for camping trips. In a spray bottle, combine tap water and aloe gel in about equal measure. Then, if you have it, add 2-3 drops of peppermint essential oil. Shake to combine. You can store the bottle in the fridge when you're at home or tuck it into your bag if you're out and about. A few spritzes on the chest or the back of the neck helps immensely. (Don't spray it on your face or near your eyes. If you have any allergy or sensitivity to peppermint, leave the essential oil out.)

Keep reusable ice packs in the freezer. These can be a lifesaver. They're a quick way to cool down during the day, by cuddling or leaning against while sitting. If you can't find ice packs, fill a freezer bag 3/4 full of ice water with half a cup of rubbing alcohol, squeeze out the air before closing, and reinforce the seams and edges with duct tape. In an emergency when nothing else is working, or if someone starts to overheat, take an ice pack and put it under the arm. There's a whole host of major circulatory vessels in that area and it's a fast way to bring down body temp if someone's in trouble or while you're waiting for emergency services.

Please feel free to add your own tips and stay safe out there!

[retroellie]

(I love your work btw!!! 🥺💕) Can you make an imagine where the reader is cooking dinner for Ellie, but then Ellie starts feeling a bit needy for the reader while watching her cook, and ends up roughly fucking her on the kitchen counter, which leads to the food being burnt and they end up getting takeout instead? 😩

Summary: Cooking dinner until Ellie gets a nasty idea

A/N: I promised more farm!ellie so here ya go. Thank you for the request love <3 Thank you for enjoying and i know you said take out but like i started writing and was like oh shit they meant modern world, so i completely forgot im sorry AHSJA. Anyways mom!ellie

Warnings: NSFW, Strap-on, Fingering, Pregnant sex

Word count: 3.7K

"Shit." Ellie huffed, shutting the heavy door to the barn.

There was so much work still needed to do on the farm, the hen shed needed to be built still so for now they were spread out across the barn and the cows pen needed to be expanded. There was so much left to do and ellie was nervous y'all might not get it done by the time winter got here.

She had been out there all day working on getting all the animals comfortable in their new homes, the pigs being the hardest. As of right now though the sun was beginning to set and Ellie was starving. You had gone in not too long ago because you were becoming overheated, not well for the baby in your belly.

Ellie walked through the field, seeing how pretty the house looked in the sunset light. All the pretty oranges and reds spread across the wood of the house, she wished she had her sketchbook so she could get down the quick picture before it left her brain.

She reached the house, taking her shoes off so she didn't get mud on the floor. She could hear faint sounds of music, if she was real quiet she could hear you humming along with it. She smiled at the peacefulness she felt right now, suddenly all the stresses she had about the barn vanished. Suddenly she thought the barn was a great idea, if this was how it would be all the time then she could die a happy woman.

She set her shoes next to yours, taking one good look at the fields before going in. The sun buried itself behind the hills, casting a glow on the flowing laundry allowing her to see small peaks of the barn. She couldn't wait for the kid to be running through here, she could see it now. She could see herself running after the kid, small laughs coming from the both of them.... her kid. The thought made her smile.

She finally opened the screen door, the smell of dinner filling the air around her. That's when she saw in the dim light of the candle filled room, you in the middle of it all. You were dressed in a cute little cottage dress that you were given at the baby shower, and one of the women of the town made it for you.

You were making something on the stove, not noticing her presence until the screen door slammed behind her. You jumped slightly, the perks of living in a post-apocalyptic world. You gave a small smile when you realized it was her before averting your eyes to the pot in front of you.

Ellie placed her things down on the small table by your back door, her eyes glued to you. She made her way over to you, seeing a cookbook opened right next to you. There were so many types of vegetables out along with some bread and meat. You always did know how to surprise her with your old world cookbook.

"Long day at work Mrs. Williams?" You smiled, teasing her a bit.

"Long and hard, Mrs. Williams." She came up behind you, placing her large hands on your hips.

She swayed a bit to the music, watching you stir the food in the pot. You smiled at her sudden affection, the feeling of her hands gripping softly at your waist making you blush slightly. One of her hands made its way to your belly, noticing how much bigger it had gotten since y'all moved here.

"How are my girls doing?" She asked, caressing your stomach softly.

When you guys first found this place you were only a couple weeks along, not even 9 weeks along. Now you're almost 6 months old, you have gotten bigger and bigger. Your glow had only increased as well, you looked really good and really happy as well. Most nights were better than others obviously, the paranoia and depression of the outside world can be hard especially on a pregnant woman.

"We're doing okay, she's a little shit and won't settle down but hopefully food will calm her down." You replied, watching as the broth bubbled.

You could feel Ellie's grin on your neck, kisses halting for only a minute just to look down at the bubbles as well. It looked like chicken noodle soup but Ellie couldn't be sure. Her hands continued to caress your belly, feeling as the baby moved around. She will never get used to that, the feeling of a baby in your stomach.

She was dragged out of her thoughts when you turned your head to connect your lips together. She was caught off guard but happily moved her lips to yours, one hand still sitting on your hip and the other slightly pushing you back to rest yourself on her chest. You chuckled into the kiss, pushing her away slightly with your butt.

"Honey, I love you but you smell like a pig pen..." You joked, turning back to the oven. "Go get cleaned up for dinner, it has another 20 or 30 minutes left."

She laughed, stepping away from you for the first time since she came into the house. She gave your ass a soft smack before trailing herself up stairs. You let out a surprised yelp, giggling as you watched her walk to the doorway and stop in her tracks.

"behave yourself while i'm upstairs... You think you can do that?" She joked, giving you a small grin.

"Ugh that'll be impossible...how could I behave myself when I know you're washing pig shit off your hands just up the stairs." You joked back.

Ellie chuckled and made her way upstairs, jogging up the stairs and into your bedroom. It didn't take much to get cleaned up, she just changed into a plain white shirt and some random pair of jeans she found on the dresser.

While she was placing her dirty clothes into the hamper she caught a glimpse of one of your guys toys. It was a strap on, it was one you used often but it worked for the two of you. That's when the best idea came to her, she didn't hesitate in grabbing the strap on. She put it on tightly so it wouldn't fall off.

When she was comfortable with it, not too tight and not too loose she pulled up her jeans. It wasn't too noticeable, the strap was mostly folded in between her legs so it didn't show through her jeans. She smiled at her nasty idea before walking back down stairs, seeing you in the same position you were before. This time your eyebrows were knitted together in frustration, licking your lips which sent tingles through ellie.

She went back to the same position she was at only minutes before her nasty idea, but this time her hands roughly grabbed at you. There was a slight change in her presence than the last time, it was once innocent and peaceful but now it was like a lion staring down its prey.

Her lips were once again attached to your neck, hands bunching up your dress slightly. The roughness distracted you a bit, not expecting her mood to change within seconds. One of her hands was slowly making its way under your dress, giving you only a split second to realize what she was going.

You didn't know if it was you being pregnant or what but you were almost immediately putty in her hands, in between your legs already called for her. Her hand was slowly running up your thigh, no time was waiting.

"Ellie... I have to make dinner!" You stated, hand grabbing on to the counter for leverage.

"You said 20 minutes right??" She asked, watching as you gave her a small nod. "I can make you cum at least 3 times before...."

Those words made you weak, you could feel the wet spot on your underwear grow more and more. Ellie sucked and bit at your neck, leaving small bruises. Her hand made it all the way to your thigh, feeling the wet spot. She gave a cocky grin, knowing she was the one doing that.

"Besides, dinner can wait..." She paused, moving her hand that rested on your waist to your chest, grabbing at your flesh softly. " Well, you pussy seems to think so." She teased.

You let out a small groan, letting go of the spoon you had been holding too grab at her hand that was grabbing at your boobs. You usually would give her a hard time, tease her as much as she teases you but right now... your hormones were everywhere and your body was so different than it was, you just couldn't fight back your desire for her.

She took a few steps back, taking you back with her so you were safely away from the stove before moving your panties to the side. She started off small with her movements, placing two fingers on your clit, circling them around to send small moments of pleasure to your core.

You moaned into the air, the increased sensitivity of your body changing made the movements feel more intense than they once were. Your head moved back to capture her lips in a kiss, while her fingers worked on the little bud between your folds.

The kiss was passionate, no teeth clashing or sloppy tongue action but like two puzzle pieces being perfect for each other. Your head craned back, wanting more of her lips and you were honestly afraid of breaking your neck but it just felt so good.

Ellie's hand on your chest pulled down your dress, releasing our boobs into the cold air. She was just able to pull it down to your waist but that was enough access for her. She grabbed at one of your boobs, playing with the sensitive nipple.

She watched as you gasped into her mouth, eyes slightly rolling back into your head. She took that as a cue to shove two fingers inside of you, thumb still rubbing at your clit. You couldn't last too much longer and she knew it, everything felt so different from your not pregnant body so she had to treat it differently.

Your walls immediately clamped around her finger, the knot in your body ready to explode. You grabbed on to her, one hand on her arm and the other moving back to grab her thigh to balance yourself. It all happened so fast and you didn't even know it was happening until waves of pleasure were sent all over your body and your juice dripped onto ellies hand.

Some strangled moans left your mouth, as your body felt like it was on fire and your stomach did twist and turns. You tried to catch your breath, wincing as Ellie took her fingers out of you. Ellie allowed you to slowly come down from you high, knowing she was not done with you yet.

"Sorry I came so fast...." You breathed out, moving to fix your dress back before Ellie pulled you back to her.

"Who said I'm done with you.." She spoke, moving her hand down to her jeans before pulling out the strap.

You gasped at the feeling of it, feeling it hit your lower back. You couldn't help but feel pathetic at the fact you were still so fucking horny even though you already came once, you felt greedy but you ddin't care.

"I said 3 times right?" She spoke, not asking but telling you.

You bit your lip at the tone of her voice, feeling your cunt flutter and drip onto your now soaked underwear. Your cheeks were red along with the flush skin of your chest from Ellie grabbing at your tender boobs.

Ellie pulled you closer to her, standing you still while she pulled your dress all the way down to your ankles. The feeling of her being fully dressed and you being completely naked, the degradation of it making your legs shake more than they already were. You were in nothing but your underwear that were pushed to the side and ellies hands settling down on your hips.

Ellie spread your legs a tad, moving a finger to slide through your folds. You winced a tad, overstimulated slightly but so ready to be fucked once again. Ellie got you nice and wet, lining up the strap to your puffy folds.

"Do you need anything? Water? Or do you want to sit down? i co..." She started but wasn't able to finish her sentence

"Jesus Christ ellie just fuck me already." You interrupted, moving your hips back to try to fuck yourself on the strap.

Ellie chuckled but you didn't have to tell her twice, she slowly inserted the strap but that wasn't until you moved your hips back and forth. The action of you fucking yourself on the strap made her stumble back slightly, hitting the sink so her back was flush against it.

You didn't have a set speed, you sped up and then slowed down just whatever felt the best at the moment. Ellie watched as you sunk down onto it, watching it go in and out of you. She was getting a little antsy, wanting to thrust in and out of you while holding you down on the cabinet.

Oh how she wanted to fuck you so hard, but you were fragile at the moment so she let you take your time. Instead she placed her hands on your hips, helping you push your weight onto her. Your thighs were burning, the way you had to push yourself back onto her gave you a legit work out.

You held onto Ellie’s hands, forcing your body back down onto her. You could feel yourself inching closer and closer each thrust, each thrust also came more frustration on your part. The feeling of running after an orgasm but not being fit enough to reach it out made you wanna scream.

You hair was falling in front of your face as you leaned over to try to fuck yourself harder on the strap, trying to get at the best angle as well. You were just genuinely uncomfortable but so motivated to get off that you didn’t care that your body was hurting.

Ellie noticed the tension in your body, feeling your frustration as you desperately tried to get off. That’s when she stepped in, stopping you for a minute to lean you on the cabinet next to her. Only your chest on the cabinet, your elbows holding you up.

“Lemme take care of you hun...” she started, lining the strap back up. “Just sit back and look pretty for me okay.”

She took home on your hips once more and dove back into you, hitting an angle that you wanted to get too but couldn’t. She went at the same pace as before, rough and hard but taking small breaks in between to check if you were hurting.

You grabbed onto the counter with dear life, the cold counter against your flush skin making you shiver slightly. She was prominent and very skilled, feeling every single inch of the strap inside of you.

“Fuck... Ellie... I-“ you could feel yourself clamping around her, your walls fluttering and tensing up ready to release.

She knew you could last longer, your strangled groans and small cruises dropped hints to her. Her twisted a hand in your hair, something she knew you liked, pulling it slightly while you thrust your hips back to hers.

You lifted yourself off the counter now holding yourself up with your hands, holding yourself as steady as you possibly could for Ellie. You could feel it rip through your body. You jerked your body flush against Ellie’s, back all the way pressed against her chest.

Ellie snaked a hand to your boobs and the other drawing soft circles in your clit. You threw your head onto her shoulder, mouth shaped into an O shape as you came with a loud moan.

“Come on baby.... cum on my cock..” she whispered, thrusting her hips into you harshly.

You were seeing stars at this point, holding on to Ellie for dear life as she fucked you through your orgasm. Ellie kissed up your jaw, catching your lips into a kiss while slowing down her movement. Your body had stopped jerking only to be left legit shaking.

Ellie pulled the strap out of you, still holding you up with one hand. You were out of breath, shaking violently in her arms as she comforted you back into your body. She moved a hand through your hair, peppering your neck with kisses as you slowly came back to your body.

“Do you need anything?” She whispered, pressing a small kiss to the shell of your ear.

You turned around in her arms, bringing her into a kiss. Your hands immediately made their way into her hair, her hands absentmindedly went to your hips. It had got a cold in the house but you both were heated up.

“I’m okay Ellie, the baby's good, I’m not thirsty, I don’t need to sit...” you said, knowing exactly the same questions she would ask. It warmed your heart to see she cared but holy shit you were so wound up. “I was promised 3 orgasms.... so please just shut up and fuck me.”

That was so fucking hot to her, you taking what you wanted without a care in the world was something she couldn’t handle. She brought you into a sloppy kiss, holding your head in place as she walked you back into the counter.

She pressed you against the counter, leg up against your bare cunt that was so overstimulated right now but you somehow wanted more. She lifted one of your legs up around her waist and you helped do the other until you were fully seated on the counter.

Your legs dangled down, spread wide open so Ellie could place herself in between them comfortably. Her hands sat on your thighs, squeezing both of them softly. Your hands wrapped around her neck, bringing her so close to you.

This is what heaven would feel like if there was one, fucking on the counter of your dream farmhouse while pregnant with Ellie’s child (Figuratively). It’s what pure light and sweet dreams felt like wrapped in one.

You wrapped your legs around Ellie’s waist, hinting at wanting her to fuck you finally. Ellie lined it up with your cunt, running it up and down your slit a few times before pushing it all the way in.

You gasped at the feeling of being filled to the brim once more, throwing your head back onto the cabinet as Ellie thrust in and out of you at an animalistic pace.

Ellie watched as your back arched up, causing your boobs to bounce every single thrust. This view made her mouth water, you being fucked under candle light. She leaned down to attach her lip to one of your boobs.

You grabbed a fist full of her hair to keep her there for a moment, feeling pleasure from two sensitive areas of your body could send you flying off the edge once more. You let multiple moans out, one after the other.

The house was full of them, bouncing off every wall until they made it back to Ellie’s ears. Ellie went deeper, trying to hit that spot that made you see stars. Ellie watched as your eyebrows knitted together, head pointed up to the ceiling as your mouth formed an O once more.

You were once again so close, tired walls fluttering against the strap. Your overstimulated cunt burning at the sensation of another earth shattering orgasm. Ellie lifted her head up to coax you through it, leaving sloppy open mouth kisses on your fully exposed neck.

“Come on baby, cum on my cock one more time....” she encouraged you, speeding up once more. “I know you can do it, make that pretty little cunt cum all over my cock huh.”

Those dirty words, words that made your body tingle every time you heard them. You grabbed onto Ellie once again, squeezing her hand as the knot in your stomach finally snapped once again.

You could feel how your juices spilled all over the counter, probably making a big wet mess. Pleasure courses through your body, making you jerk violently. Your nails dug into Ellie roughly, most likely leaving bruises.

Ellie once again fucked you through your orgasm but slowed down slightly, kissing up your neck. Your entire body collapsed, no more strength to try to get down.

You could smell the burning of your soup, the awful smell wafting through the air. It had been a little over 20 minutes, probably more than 30 minutes even. It was slightly bright outside when you started but now it was pitch black, candles were the only thing lighting your way.

Ellie planted another kiss on your lips, caressing your belly to comfort you. You kissed back, just wanting to go to bed at this point.

“Well the soup is burnt... So what do you wanna do for dinner??” You asked, looking at how the soup smoked.

Ellie looked back as well, seeing as it was literally almost black. She chuckled a bit, turning back to you and shrugging.

“I mean we have left over cake from the baby shower.... can't let it go to waste.” She said, watching as you gave her a big grin.

“Hmmm... I think you sound much better than cake.” You joked, well it really wasn’t a joke. You just came 3 times and she at least deserved to get eaten out.

“I swear you got knocked up and now you're just a little horn dog.” Ellie rolled her eyes, slipping out of you before handing you your dress.

“Hey corn dogs kinda sounds good??” You joked, hopping down from the cabinet almost falling down on your way.

“You are too much.” She laughed, pulling you back into a quick kiss.

You wrapped your arms around her neck once more, smiling into the kiss as her hands roamed down you your ass giving it a quick squeeze.

"Well cake and burnt vegetables for dinner i guess." You sighed out, between kisses.

The only thing y'all will be eating tonight is each other at this point.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hot Chocolate (Birthday/Christmas Special)

Summary: Levi is bound to spend this birthday on his own, seeing that you're halfway across the globe as an exchange uni student. What he doesn't know though is that you have planned a huge surprise for him. NSFW 18+

Notes: sorry for any mistake you guyss please enjoy this

Pairing: Levi/ Reader 

Tags: f l uff, nsfw

Warnings: nsfw, the sexies

Disclaimer: I do not own the gif, I simply found it on Pinterest.

White heavy cream fell fluidly out of the carton it was stored, squeezed by Levi's calloused hand and into the small metallic pot that he rested his other hand onto. The mixture, an aromatic, dark brown hot chocolate, lightened in color upon a few stirs of his tool. Slowly with his hand he disposed of the empty carton in the recycling bin, making sure to wipe any stray droplet of white on the counter.

He blinked as his mind went blank, forgetting the next step of the recipe but only momentarily. His thoughts once again traveled to what troubled him, but he continued with his stirring in fear of burning the beverage he was set on making. With his teeth sinking dangerously at the tip of his tongue what he needed clicked in his head. Corn flour. A quorter of a cup.

He didn't bother tasting the mixture as he lowered the fire of the stove to the minimum, he simply marched to the corner built in cupboard, hands searching furiously for the porcelain vase that held this oh so precious corn flour that would act as the stabilizing factor to his hot chocolate beverage.

Seconds later he brought the fire to an halt absurdly, never ceasing with his stirring careful as to not have the mixture stick to the pot. He didn't like his chocolate adorned with burnt flakes or the taste they brought to his mouth neither did he like cleaning the burnt pot before having to pop it in the washing machine. As his hands reached for the cups he had set beside the stove beforehand to his alchemy, he helped the thick mixture in with a spoon.

The cups were immediately transfered inside the over; an attempt to keep them from any predatory fly that could have entered the apartment before Levi had a chance to realise and in addition keeping them sheltered as they reached a drinkable temperature. Levi threw the pot into the sink next, sighing to himself as he grabbed his thick latex gloves and out them on his hands. With a twist of his hand at the handle the watered started running on his gloves hands pot making him grab his steel wool.

His hand came to his forehead, wiping some sweat as he sighed again, hanging his head low as he gritted his teeth in frustration. His eyes squinted in anger, his hands dug into the inox of his sink and his heart sink dangerously low as he felt the room run cold due to the sun quickly setting behind the horizon.

Why had he made that chocolate, it beat him. The two of you hadn't spoken in at least two days and he liked -or rather chose- to blame it on your busy studying schedule, rather than the fight the two of you had over that call two nights ago. He had been to angry to admit he was acting like a brat to you, he had been too proud to simply say that he wanted your attention, instead he had resolved his anger into grumpiness, causing your overworked mind to snap.

You were gone as an exchange student in Japan for too long and both your busy schedules and the enormous time difference had dug their ways into Levi's life very negatively. Before you he had never lonely when he was alone, but now, now that he had gotten a taste of what it was to be with you, now that you had been ripped away from him from so long, he definitely felt lonely. And angry. And it killed him that he was almost on time for your arranged video chat, when you didn't even show any sign of being in existence still.

It made his boil though, by now, it must have been the 26th in Japan and you had spent your day ignoring him, not even bothering to open his message. Had he been so cruel to you while admitting he wanted you here with him? Was it that you didn't have enough decency to let him you know you were alright? That was what he simply wanted to know, in the end.

Sighing again he ripped the gloves off his hands and grabbed his phone. His fingertip touching the button provided him immediate access to his homescreen and he quickly entered Instagram dragging the homepage down a couple of times to let it load any new activity. Internally he knew, he would have been glad if he was to see a story or a post by you, any sign that you were alright would do for him.

Of course, as if on cue to shake him of his miserable thoughts his phone rang, buzzing in his palm. His eyes fell on the small window the revealed the caller id to him. It was Erwin, naturally, as he always used to shower him with phone calls on his birthday even up until the moment he was at his front door. Levi didn't missed out on those signs of affection, it's was quite the opposite really. He cherished them deeply. Seeing how much of an impact he had on his friends' lives moved him whether he showed it or not.

And so, while holding back his saddened sigh he picked up the phone, greeting his friend through greeted teeth.

"Hey Levi, uhm, I kind of need you at the moment, am I interrupting anything?"

"No," Levi spoke, biting painfully on the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hold himself back from sprinting out on his frustration. Of course Erwin could try and hide behind his finger, Levi knew that much. The blond was aware he wasn't interrupting anything, but he was still kind enough to ask; he always was sappily kind when it came to such sensitive subjects.

"Great look, I'm on route twenty two, fifth exit, I'm out of gas can you please come to my rescue and bring me some?" Erwin paused for a moment and then proceeded to mumble through an overly amused breath "I'm sorry I'm doing this to you tonight."

"Did you take your father's run down car again?" Levi questioned.

"No... yes. I'm sorry Levi I felt like I wanted to drive his car tonight. I shouldn't have to drag you here too, I'm sorry."

"No it's fine," Levi bit back, hissing at Erwin's unhealthy habit of wanting to drive his father's antique due to its sentimental worth. But then again, he reminded himself he wasn't in a place to judge. "Give me 15 and I'll be there."

Fidgeting his fingers on the counter without throwing a second look he came in contact with his car keys. The familiar jiggling sound gritted through the air proudly as Levi pierced his finger inside the key loop, finally pressing the keys steady to his palm. With another grunt, he hang up the phone, bringing the device to the palm of his hand once again.

His mind begged him to open his texts with you again -his initial goal ever since the moment he opened his phone- just to stare at the screen or at his unopened text, his insides begged to boil with concern at the process but he figured had all night to do so, prolonging his misery could definitely wait now that Erwin was in need. And thus he simply marched to the hanger behind his front door, eager much to quickly get a hold of his warmest jacket before having to step out in the cold apartment corridor and consequentially outside in the cold December weather.

___

You forced Hange to suppress her giggles as you slipped the metallic key inside the lock to your shared apartment with Levi. With an exaggerated jump though Hange let out another scream fill the air, ignoring yet another playful rasped gaze you consequentially threw her. Laughter bubbled from the both of you as you kept on locking eyes, amused by the upcoming execution of your plan.

The plan was simple really. You had Erwin call Levi for any emergency he could come up with and only when he left the house you and Hange would sneak in, light up the aromatic candles you spent weeks picking. You would make some hot buttered rum and light the fireplace to warm up the house. Then, Hange would leave right when Erwin would call you to announce that Levi was on his way back and you'd wait for him with the biggest smile on your face.

"Okay now let's see how much time we have." You said and rubbed your hands together to warm them up. Leaning with one hand over the wall you moved the heel of your left foot on top of your right one, pressing down enough so you could wiggle your foot out of the shoe. Doing the same for your other foot, you removed your jacket and hung it behind the door.

"Erwin said it will take Levi about twenty minutes to get to him, they shall spend about ten to fifteen minutes fueling his car, but he promised he'd try his best to delay Levi if we need to. And then add another ten minutes for him to get back." Hange spoke, fixing her glasses onto her nose.

"You think I have enough time to take a bath?"

Making sure to slip her shoes off after you, Hange nodded in your direction and proceeded to set her heavy backpack on the couch. One by one she took the candles and a lighter out, eventually smirking to herself as she tried to come up with a plan on how to neatly set them around the living room.

"Hange!" Can you put those in the bedroom?" You spoke, ripping your shirt off of you before your finger came to graze the side of your mouth as your mind sunk in your thoughts.

"Ha!" Hange huffed "as if you're even going to make it to the bedroom!"

Your cheeks burned as she spoke, eyes widening slightly at how your mind told you she was completely right. Of course you and Levi wouldn't make it to the bedroom at least until later tonight. It had been months since you had last seen him and it was his birthday, you wouldn't even be able to rip yourself off of his arms. Thus you simply threw a mellow smile at Hange as you sprint to the kitchen checking to see if you had all the ingredients you'd need to make your choice of drink.

Coincidentally, you opened the oven and your eyes immediately fell on what was inside. Your expression softened as two grey toned cups shone in your orbs, the smell they emitted deliciously filling your nostrils. You smiled to your self as you thought about how your lover didn't miss out on making your traditional Christmas drink.

It was unbelievable how kind hearted Levi was, in contrary to what people thought of him, you thought. Most of the times -and simply because he didn't allow otherwise- the only thing people who weren't close to him saw was a cold demeanor, a sharp tongue and a foul mouth. It all would be too ironic if they knew how Levi was behind closed doors. Taking notice of small everyday details, sticking to his beloved routine, cherishing moments with his loved ones, remembering everything most people would ignore about others and showing his love in the sweetest yet most Levi way were only a few of his virtues.

Of course he wouldn't miss on making your favorite strawberry scented thick hot chocolate, even if you had spent the last few days not speaking to him, even if as of now he remained ignorant as to why. You assumed he believe it was about that ridiculous fight and you could admit you purposefully riled him just enough for him not to expect to see you. You were sure, seeing he had shown a previous liking in surprises like this, that his jaw would hit the floor when he'd see you.

Guilt rushed through you at the thought of you making him feel miserable even in the slightest, but Hange couldn't just have you standing there, sulking in your anxiety over how things had led up to this moment. If you wanted to make it in time for when Levi came home you'd have to rush. Hange insisted on shooing you out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, urging you to act fast, before Levi came. Sensing she was right, you settled for running to retrieve a new pair of underwear and a clean towel before jumping in the shower.

Stretching your arms to close the curtain behind you as you stepped on the white marble tiles you twisted the faucet handle to the right, letting a deep sigh escape from the depths of your chest as the hot water started running.

___

The sound of keys jiggling together filled what should have been an empty apartment, making Levi's arrival known only to you who stood inside the kitchen. He stepped inside a few seconds later, ripping his shoes off of his feet before slipping into his fuzzy slippers.

His hands immediately reached for the wipes and rubbing alcohol he kept on a stand right next to the door, silently grabbing a wipe and coating it in the strong smelling disinfectant before bringing it to his phone and keys. He spent a good minute cleaning the items meticulously only stopping when he felt satisfied to set them on the stand. He took a step to turn around with his goal to walk to the kitchen and heat up his got chocolate. Judging by the time he could still try to reach out to you before the day ended.

With a quick glance around the room, though he found himself freezing in his spot.

"Great, now I'm so shit mad I'm seeing fucking things." Levi announced -seemingly only to his own self- the moment he laid his gray orbs upon you.

"No Levi, you're not seeing things baby."

Standing up for your seat on the kitchen table you shot him an adorning look; your eyes squinted and your cheeks puffed up, coated in a sheer scarlett color. You silently watched as his eyes grew impossibly wide, flickering between you and each lit candle that showered the room in plenty of romantic golden light.

His legs were slightly trembling, his knees going weak at the sudden need to intake all of what was unraveling before him, but with his heart hammering in his whole body he only managed to part his lips before even beginning to thing if what to utter.

"Merry Christmas and happy birthday my Vee." You smiled again, mouthing the tooth rotting sweet nickname as you walked to him with open arms and a longing look on your face.

He wasted no time, even if his head was starting to buzz in confusion and uncertainty, he bucked in his stand before sprinting towards you. His hands quickly wrapped under your bum, lifting you up on him while prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. With painfully squinted eyes his nose nuzzled up between your neck and your chest, inhaling your magnetising aura sharply as he span you around. You wrapped your arms around him tightly, embracing his head in a loving manner as you couldn't supress your bubbling giggles.

His strong grip on you wasn't ceasing, not even for a moment as he began mouthing his questions; he didn't even care that his voice was muffled by your own form.

"How- I mean when?" He spoke and only hugged you tigher onto him.

"Well, you thought I'd ever miss this day?" You placed a kiss on the top of his hairline. "I was supposed to be here days ago but my flight got delayed, so Erwin and and Hange came up with this surprise plan."

Levi's hands loosened their grip on you slowly was you tried to slide down his body carefully; this breathtaking moment could only ever last for so long, Levi figured as he set you down. Kissing you was the next task he assigned to himself, but it could only happen after he got a good look at your face.

God, he had missed you so much.

So many months had passed since the last time he had been graced with seeing you this close to him and in the moment what he was witnessing almost felt too unreal. Your tender eyes looked into his with adoration and warmth, your chest dwelled with tainted breaths as your hands slowly came to cup his sharp face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't responding at all, I really had to leave to go to the airport after that silly fight we had, I couldn't just tell you I was coming." You said and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Although I was really temped to."

Levi wrapped his arms around you again and hugged you to his chest- this time he missed on levitating you if the ground, even more fiercely than he had done before. He simply huffed in amusement in the crook of your neck, mouthing a sole 'thank you' against you.

The next kiss you shared was maniac and passionate in nature. His lips didn't just graze over yours, the engulfed them. He sucked onto your tender flesh as if his life depended on it and you couldn't get enough. You found yourself grabbing his shirt, then running your hands through the short spiky hair of his undercut.

His slick hands cupped your own face as he pulled back only to catch his breath for a moment.

"I've missed you much I can't even be patient to talk with you."

"Me too" you announced, a hazed look masking your face.

You took a few leading steps to the couch, careful not to disturb the candles in the corners of the coffee table that before it, much afraid of setting everything on fire in your despairate state to have him. Your mouth launched feverishly onto his as you threw him onto the gray sofa.

Levi didn't fight it, not even for a moment. His tongue shoved inside your mouth, rolling around yours, slurping and cherishing each corner of your mouth as he took small intakes of breath through his nose from time to time. His tender hands loosened their grip on the sides of your face, the action eliciting a small whine from your occupied mouth but to was quickly gulped down by the movement of his lips that came to suck on your tongue.

You felt his fingertips travel down your clothed body, skillfully sinking underneath your shirt before restlessly traveling back up taking the cloth away with them. You only broke away from each other for a singular moment, breaths hitching and tinting the air around you, so much that you could almost ignore the way your heart sped it's throbbing in your ears. His hips bucked longingly int you from underneath, the friction already driving you crazy.

As his hands shoved longingly inside your pants you let another moan slip from the depths of your throat, though it was guickly muffled by your lover's mouth attaching on yours , making you melt into him. You felt his fingers graze ever so slightly over your still clothed crotch, painfully flicking their way through your flesh.

Roughly, he pulled back, detaching his want body away from yours while fixing his gray eyes into you. He didn't bother speaking as he tagged at the sides of his shirt, ripping the article of clothing away from him in such quick movements, as if it was the only thing getting in his way from getting close to you.

With hanger widening his eyes he stared at you again, prompting you to put your hands into him, to feel him all the while he run his hands into your form. He failed in exploring your body as he had wished though, with a shagged breath he only managed to bring you close, in a proximity that didn't even allow a kiss to be exchanged. You simply nuzzled into the crook of his bare neck, rubbing the tip of your nose in calm circles against him as you breathed hot huffs of air onto his skin.

His back was still so muscular and ripped despite his skin being so overly smooth under your tender touch, the more small trails you rubbed over him the more he sighed in greed and over exaggerated longing. Licking his lips with a constipated look on his face, he placed a tender kiss on your collarbone before traveling back up, just to teasingly rub his bottom lip over yours.

Breaking the kiss you grabbed his hand, bringing his palm close you your face. You teasingly picked his pointer finger, making sure to scratch the inside of his hand with your nails as you brought the digit to your mouth. His mouth, running ahead of his own desire to stay quiet, blurted lewd moans at your soft suckling and with all blood boiling in his body he was unable to even think about chocking down on his sounds.

He was on his back before he even knew it. It seemed like squirming was the way to go now, right underneath you as you placed kisses all over his chest and torso. With slow hands you reached for his pants, fidgeting with his zipper and buttons before wiggling your arms inside the dark denim.

Quickly, any remaining article of clothing was discharged thrown anywhere on the floor; you could worry about that later but right now you couldn't seem to be able to pay attention on anything else than each other. You had missed him, he had missed you, there was only so much that the two of you could process momentarily.

It was the high of the moment mixed with your scent that pulled him even even more as you craddled him to your chest while never ceasing the bobbing of your hips. The kisses that he sucked in you, sped up the beating of your heart against his as soft skin mingled with your own. Even that was painful to him, the extend to which he had missed you didn't leave any space for him to pull just an inch away from you, as if he wouldn't ever be able to get enough.

"My Levi, I've missed you so much." You spoke with hitched breaths, lips grazing his earlobe ever so slightly.

Levi allowed him self to eventually grunt in response letting harsh huffs of air through his nostrils while trying to guide your hips to an alt.

"Keep talking like that and I'm not going to last." He spoke, his fingering digging into your thighs to put an halt to your movements.

It didn't work -he should have known it wouldn't work- because you only slid down on him longingly and fast, sending his mind in the familiar pre orgasmic haze he so wished to momentarily be freed from.

"Who said," you paused only for another tainted moan to slip outside your lips "I want you to last?" You placed a kiss on the skin behind his ear, careful not to suck and create any loud noise that close to his eardrum.

Levi only threw his head back, his hips starting to work onto a hard, quick rhythm against you. He trembled under your words and every deep thrust, every feel of your insides on his throbbing length was only contributing to the build up in his abdomen.

He hair, sweaty as it was, stuck on his forehead as it dripped, but you paid no mind in his salty taste as you kissed your way all over his forehead and cheeks, nose and jawline, trailing your tongue on any sharp edge of him.

Your legs were shaking now and much to your best wishes you struggled with your thrusting onto him. You only managed to gyrate your hips, earning another moan of him as you ceased your movements, sweat dripping off of your own forehead as if mimicking his antics.

His hands nearly slipped from your thighs as wet as they were but he managed to get the message you were trying to convey; with jaded breaths he started thrusting maniacally from underneath you, damaging through you as pleasure dueled in both your bodies.

Yearning splashed all over his face and his grunts only got louder. Your foreheads collided as you cupped his face, noses nuzzling up, eyes staring deep into eachother.

Gentle. His ultimate indulge into you was gentle and earth shattering at the same time. His veins popped in white hot pleasure and his chest boiled with numerous erotic moans as his abdomen screamed throughout him, leaving him with barely enough time to mechanically reach just to pull out. His head hung low onto your collarbone while his head throbbed, unable to come down from his high just yet. He couldn't even move his eyes to see you, although he knew by listening to your panted breaths that you were in the same position as him.

Pushing him back to lay down on the couch, you kissed all over his face for the thousandth time tonight.

"I'd never ever miss this important day, you know." You smiled, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose.

"It's not that special, brat" he spoke shyly as he cooed into your face rubbing his upper lip to your cheek. You recognised the action; it was a habit of his to coo in such way, any overly soft thing grazing his top lip indulged him in endless calmness and you hummed to yourself in amusement to the feeling.

"I missed you."

"I know. You said that." He huffed, his lips puckering to hide the playful demeanor behind his next words. "But I don't think I heard it right, mind repeating it?" His fingers trapped your nose between them and swayed your head from side to side before moving to your naked back to press you closer to him him once again.

"You're such a tease. I love you Levi."

"I love you too," He blurred with eyes that burned into yours and proceeded to place a sweet kiss onto your sweat drenched hair "so much, you brat."

Taglist go off: @ackermans-freedom-inc @hawkssnugget @berrijam @levisbrat25 @nobody-knows-anymore @callmepromise

[itcanbegoodagain]

Gentle Love

More Everlark fluff, because, really, is there ever too much?

Word Count: 1821 (not really proofread)

Now that the need isn't so dire, it's harder for me to rise before the sun does. And, most times, it isn't a problem. There's no need for me to be up so early in the day. Summer, though, was a different story.

The sun was too damn hot!

So, with heavy and unwilling limbs, I rolled out of bed, straightening the sheets before washing up.

Minutes later, when I crossed into the kitchen, Peeta was already there, finishing breakfast at the table. He broke into a grin, making my lips lift into a smile back. He stood and grabbed the warming teakettle off the stove, filling a mug and placing it at my spot on the table.

Then he took a step over to me and gave me his customary good morning kiss on the crown of my head. At first, I teased him about doing it everyday, but now I wrap my arms around Peeta's stomach, not-so-secretly craving this gentle love every morning.

"Hi," I said softly, grinning and pressing a kiss to his shirt. He hugged me back, resting his cheek on my head. My eyes fell shut again, craving to return to sleep, while I basked in Peeta's steadiness. This little ritual we do always starts my day off on the right foot. The beat of his heart had almost lulled me back into a light sleep when he quietly said my name.

I squeezed him tighter, holding him close for another moment, and unwound myself from his embrace. One of his hands came up to rest on the side of my face. "I gotta head to the bakery now." His thumb lightly ran down my cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Have a good day," he added, and I replied in kind.

I heard the door shut behind Peeta as I sat down to my now cooling tea. Sipped it and, ah yes, the perfect temp. He even remembered to add the extra mint leaf. Quite a spoiled wife, I am.

By the time I finally deemed myself alert enough not to fall out of a tree, the sun was already climbing high in the sky. It was going to be a very hot day.

--

The animals are much smarter than I am, evidently. They were staying home, in their cool dens and nests, as one should on a day as blistering as this. Sweat was pooling in, just, all of everywhere. I was tired and uncomfortable, to put it lightly. The added bonus of nothing to show for the day really topped it all off.

It was a relief to finally return home, dumping my bow and bag as soon as I entered the door. I peeled my shoes off next, leaving them in the entryway. I'm usually the one fussing at Peeta for doing just that. When I reached our bathroom, the first thing I did was turn the shower on. My clothes were quickly shucked to the floor, the tie from my braid promptly following.

I closed my eyes as I stepped into the cool stream of water, running my fingers through my hair to get it thoroughly soaked. I spun in a slow circle, grateful for the simple luxury of a shower. Still, not one to be wasteful, I indulged in a few more minutes of sitting in the steady stream, then I stood and shut it off.

With the towel wrapped around me, I pondered what to wear as I looked at my closet. I tend to favorite pants, but there is no way. I decided on instead wearing my soft dressing gown, the thin fabric only brushing my knees surely going to keep me cool.

--

I sighed, pulling the fridge open. My lack of kills from this morning's hunt became glaringly evident, what with all these vegetables staring back at me. I reached in and grabbed a few different things, shutting the door with my hip as I turned around.

Then I got to work, cleaning and chopping as necessary, and put together a pretty nice salad, if I do say so myself. Light, fresh veggies from our garden out back, with a squeeze of lemon juice and cracked pepper sprinkled on top.

Air conditioning has yet to make it out to many places here in Twelve, so all of our windows were thrown wide open, the curtains moving in the summer breeze. I could hear Haymitch's geese honking over in his yard, and I grinned to myself. Geese, of all things to raise.

Peeta came in as I was setting my plate into the rack to dry, using a towel to wipe my hands. I leaned back against the counter, looking him up and down. Took in his sweat-soaked shirt, his flushed cheeks, his damp hair. I rose a brow. "Hot day in the bakery, was it?" I asked, breaking into a grin.

He rolled his eyes as he nodded, shooting me a snarky grin as he grabbed a glass of water. He quickly downed it, filling the glass up again before reaching over to snag my arm and bring me closer.

I backed up a step, his arm falling into the space between us. He sent me an exaggerated pout. "Nope, not until you take a shower. I'm already rinsed off, so no touching until you are, too."

Peeta tried to reach out again, this time for my other arm, and I evaded it. I gave him a look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I give. I'll go shower." Then he grinned, and I knew that look. "But not before I do this!" he said, quickly darting in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Before I even reacted, he took off for the stairs, yelling behind him, "Okay! Going! Love you!" as he went. I watched him go, touching my cheek as a flush spread its way across my face. His casual show of love sometimes still makes me shy, but I'm learning to take in every little moment he tells me that he loves me in a different way. I try to do the same for him in return -- he deserves that at the very least. At most, more than anything I could ever give him.

But I'm too selfish to let anyone else have him. And nobody else compares to me in his eyes, so there's really nothing to worry about at all, is there?

My smile slipped off my face over the next few minutes, but it easily returned when I caught Peeta's eye as he came down the stairs. He was wearing his undershorts and a t-shirt on top, also doing his best to stay cool. I stood and made my way over to him as he followed me with his eyes.

He took his hand and ran his fingers up my neck, over my jaw. Cupped my cheek, pulling my head closer as he slowly, deftly, kissed me. My breath caught in my throat, just for a moment. "Am I clean enough for you, now?" he asked, pressing his lips to mine again, gently biting at the bottom one. "I missed you almost as much as I melted in the heat."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh, I know. It's merciless out there. I don't even want to think about how hot it is in front of all those ovens."

"Precisely why I closed up early, my dear." He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I said to hell with selling what was left in the case, so I shut off the ovens and passed it out on the way home. Knowing you were here may have aided in my decision, but really, who's to say?" He smiled at me again, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

My heart swelled at his words. How I ended up with such a generous man as my husband, I will never know. Everything he does somehow makes me love him more, and I don't know how there can be much more room in my heart for it to keep growing.

"It's gonna be a meatless day today - no luck hunting this morning," I told him. It's not a problem if I don't get anything out on my hunts; we don't rely on what I bring home, but we vastly prefer it over the butcher's cuts. "There's also a salad in the fridge if you're hungry."

"A personal chef, just for me," he said, pulling the door open and taking the plate out. "Thank you."

I joined Peeta at the table, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window. Took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The need for sleep returned now that I had a full belly, and I closed my eyes. Oh, perhaps it's okay not to do anything the rest of the day. I could give myself this day of doing nothing. Perhaps I could convince Peeta to do the same.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look back at Peeta. He was already watching me, his features soft in the sunlight. Yes, I thought, tilting my head, he will be easy to convince.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you scheming up over there?"

I hummed. "Oh, nothing, really." Then I stood, walking around the table, and planted myself in his lap. One of my arms rested on his shoulder, my hand easily finding its place in his damp hair. Peeta's eyes fell shut as I lightly combed my fingers through his curls. He let out a small sigh. One of his hands traced back and forth on my thigh, the other one twining with my free hand in our lap. We stayed like this for a while, comfortable in the other person's company.

At some point, he began bestowing the lightest and softest kisses along my neck, his closest access point. Using the hand already in his hair, I brought his face up to mine, kissing his lips. He tasted like lemon.

"What do you say," I started, "to lazing around the rest of the day?"

He grinned. "Way ahead of you, my love." Kissed me again, this time with more pressure, my heart racing in response. "Well, maybe not exactly nothing...." he added, pulling me ever closer to him.

I laughed, feeling the warm pressure of our bodies against each other. "I thought that was a given in the term 'lazing around.'"

"It is. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of it."

I bit my lip, holding back a sarcastic response. My thumb tilted his chin up, our lips meeting in the middle for another kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat when I lightly scraped my nail along his skin, and I grinned against his lips.

A good day to laze around, indeed.

[pan-cakez]

Anniversary Ahijo

Sorry I'm a little late, I wasn't able to access my computer for a while. but it's all under control now! For @mindninjax's Domestic Daydream collab. You can find my Sugawara Piece here and my Aizawa fic here. And the other pieces are here.

sfw (fluff)

wc: 1.2k

Nanami x gn!reader

All new fics will be posted from @mxonigirimiya ❤❤

Evenings with Nanami were always quiet. He would come home from work around the same time, and you would have dinner warm and ready for him. It felt like every time he walked into the house his shoulders were slumped, and a quiet sigh would pull itself from him. His exhaustion was clear and you quickly picked up on it when you first started living together, learning to have dinner ready by the time he was home. Without fail, expressions of gratitude would escape from his lips, whether it be words spoken so quietly that you would almost miss it, or a soft kiss placed onto your body, after each meal. After dinner, he would offer to clean the dishes, and you would swat at his hands if he made an attempt to reach for them. And with each night, he would spend it recharging his battery with a good book, or spending it with you.

But tonight was different. Tonight marked your first year of marriage and you wanted everything to be special.

The scent of garlic fills the kitchen, and the heat of the stove slowly spreads across your face as you stir the sauce on the pan. Music was blasting through the house, the low beat of it slowly taking over you and soft hums start to come from you as well, blending into the melody of the songs. As the sauce starts to bubble, you turn the heat low and leave it to simmer.

Dusting off your apron, you move to the counter, scanning across it until you see a piece of paper. Grabbing the paper, you read it over and over, trying to commit the words on it to memory. You knew that Nanami’s favorite food was Ahijo, but you genuinely had no clue on how to make it. Even though you had the recipe in your hands, you still felt like you were messing something up. The insecurities seemed to be deafening, but you pushed it down as best as you could.

Bringing the spatula to your mouth, you blow softly, the steam running away from your breath. A taste test was the best way to silence that insecurity, and so you tap the spatula onto your finger and the moment you taste the sauce, pride fills your chest. Feeling the heat of the oven on your legs, you bend over and turn the light on. Gazing in, you see bread crisping around the edges, a golden hue covering the rest of it.

Satisfied with how the garlic bread is going, you turn off the oven and turn your attention to the dinner table. Usually it's bare, but tonight it’s adorned with a black table cloth. For some reason, it reminded you of the fancier restaurants you and Nanami have been to, so you tried your best to recreate it. Looking up at the clock, a soft sigh leaves your lips. Nanami will be home soon, and everything has to be perfect by then.

You start to set up the table, the porcelain plates across from each other, a fork and a knife on the side of each. Placing a folded black napkin on the plates, a smile spreads across your face. This whole thing felt silly. You could order out food and eat on the couch with Nanami today, and he would still be happy. But you wanted to go all out for him. He’s always so stressed, and working with Curses, it sometimes took a strain on him, even if he didn’t tell you. He didn’t need to though, because you always noticed how withdrawn he would get after a tough mission. How he would barely even touch his food, or would stare at the same page in his books for who knows how long. So of course you wanted to go all out today. At least he would appreciate it, and it would give him a little pick me up, and he definitely needed it.

What the table needed was more ambiance, you thought, and so you placed a fake candle in the middle of the table. Suddenly, a timer went off and your attention immediately went to the sauce. You start stirring it, the sauce moving with each motion and quickly coming back together in your spatula’s wake. It doesn’t smell burnt, and when you taste it, it doesn’t taste horrible, so that’s a win in your book. Piece by piece, you add shrimp to the dish, and mix it into the sauce.

Hands suddenly placed themselves on your hips, and you felt a body gently press itself into you. Nanami’s cologne surrounds you, and you feel his breath on your neck as he whispers, “Happy Anniversary my love.” He starts swaying you to the music, silently humming along. You melt into his touch, and let out a small giggle. “Dinner smells wonderful.” The praise heats your face and he definitely notices the blush softly creeping onto your cheeks.

He peppers small kisses on your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He starts humming the song into your neck, the vibrations seeming to go right to your heart. before spinning you around to face him, and pulling you against him. One of his hands leaves featherlight touches on your waist, while the other envelops one of your hands. Before you know it, he leads you in a waltz, and for a moment you feel as if you were in a ballroom with your Prince Charming holding you against him. Nanami lifts a hand and twirls you, a smile adorning his face as you giggle, before pulling you close again, not even air able to get between you two. You felt as if this moment was straight out of a fairytale, and you felt the love you had for him bubble in your chest. The two of you almost float around the kitchen, swaying with each other until the song ends. He pulls you in for a deep kiss, his own love for you obvious in the way his lips meet yours. He steals your breath away, and when he pulls away, your foreheads rest against each other as you both pant softly.

“The Ahijo is almost ready.” You giggle at his statement, and move back to the stove. Mixing everything, you smile at the smell that wafts from the pan, and Nanami leans against the counter as his gaze lands on your hands. He smiles softly watching you start to take out the garlic bread from the oven and start to cut it. Nanami moves to help you and you slap his hand away.

“Go sit! Dinner will be done shortly.” He chuckles and moves to sit at the table, his eyes never leaving you. You continue cutting the garlic bread as well as a toasted loaf you had in the back of the oven. You plate both breads, and place the pan in the center of the table. Pulling two wine glasses from a cabinet, you place them on the table and pull out the wine you were hiding from Nanami under the table. The sound of the bottle popping reached Nanami’s ears, and all he could think was how lucky he was to have you. He watches you pour the wine and as soon as you place the bottle on the table, you sit across from him. You raise your glass and he raises his, ready for your toast.

“One year down. Forever to go.” He smiles at your words.

“To forever.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

still taking prompts? got rlly excited for a bit when u said u were bc i enjoy ur style a lot. anyway, lamp/calm for prompt #29? the prompt sounds like smth chaotic they would do lol

this is less chaotic and more tooth-rottingly fluffy, but uh here you go

for #29. Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!

Title: overthinking (darling we’re just fine)

Word Count: 1,963

Content Warnings: gratuitous discussion of breakfast foods

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

“Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!”

He hisses the words out entirely too loudly in the silence of the corridor, and Virgil winces as the sound dies down. In his defense, it is six in the morning, and he is hardly thinking straight. Or rather, coherently. And Roman knows it, too, is smirking at him with that stupid handsome smirk of his, and Virgil would seriously consider kissing him if it weren’t for the fact that he is running on roughly three hours of sleep, and his irritation is spiking.

“Now, storm cloud,” he says, voice just below a normal speaking volume, “we all know that Patton’s going to be dead to the world until at least seven thirty. You don’t need to worry so much.”

And, alright, maybe that’s true. But Virgil glares at him, too tired to deal with the slightly patronizing tone of voice. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Roman lifts an eyebrow. “Darling, I think I’ve done a bit more than meet you, at this point—”

“If you two are done making unnecessary noise?” It’s Logan, coming back around the corner, and he does not look impressed. Though, that may be because it’s six in the morning, and Logan never looks impressed about anything until his second cup of coffee. “By my estimates, we have one hour and seventeen minutes before we enter the window of time in which Patton is most likely to wake up. That should be enough time to complete all of our tasks, if we begin now and don’t commit any egregious errors.”

Virgil exchanges a look with Roman.

“Right, lead the way, Lo,” Roman says, and Virgil trails after the two of them, his brain fixing itself on the phrase egregious errors, because of course it does, because it’s him, because he can’t make it through one morning without his mind insisting that something is going to go terribly wrong and also that the world is ending.

He breathes in and out, slowly and deliberately. It’s just breakfast. They’re just making breakfast for Patton, because Patton has been sad and distant lately and nobody is quite sure how to help him, but doing something like this for him might cheer him up a bit.

So many things could go wrong, of course. They could burn the food. They could burn themselves. They could make such a mess that the prospect of cleaning it all up will put more stress on Patton than cooking the meal for him will alleviate, and then he’ll be even more sad and distant, and also, the world will end.

He’s trying not to think about any of that. Trying and failing. This sucks.

“Do you both remember your parts?” Logan asks. He’s tying an apron around his middle, black and utilitarian, but it suits him, somehow. Roman answers in the affirmative, already rattling around in the cupboards for the pans he needs, and Virgil gives a short nod.

Logan is making an omelet, one with all the fixings that Patton likes, ham and cheese and onion. Roman has insisted on making blueberry muffins from scratch, because he’s Roman and he has to be one hundred percent extra one hundred percent of the time. So, that’s left Virgil in charge of protein, and he’s chosen bacon. He knows how to make bacon. Theoretically, bacon is easy; you put it on the frying pan and flip it at the right time, and viola. Bacon.

So he stands there, watching it sizzle. Logan is next to him, keeping a close watch over his omelet on the stove top, and he serves as a steadying presence, reminding Virgil that he’s fine and that he can do this, and that bacon doesn’t take a very long time anyway, so even if he messes up, he can do it again. On Logan’s other side, Roman has commandeered the entire counter for his ingredients. He’s mixing them together and humming to himself, a jovial tune, and it’s still too loud but Virgil feels better about it than he did a few minutes ago.

He finishes the first batch, and frowns at the strips. They’re definitely cooked through all the way, but they’re a bit floppy, and a realization strikes him: he doesn’t know how Patton likes his bacon. Chewy or crispy? Or somewhere in between, with some crispy bits at the edges and the rest softer?

Oh god, the world is ending.

He must make a noise, or a noticeable motion, because Logan glances over at him.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“Chewy or crispy?” he manages to say, though his throat has clenched up like a vice. He is well aware that he’s making too big of a deal about this, that it’s just bacon, for crying out loud, but he’s running on so little sleep and it’s so important to him that he gets this right, that they succeed in making Patton feel a little better, and in the face of that, imperfect bacon might as well be the worst catastrophe he’s ever faced.

Logan’s brow furrows. “Are you talking about the bacon?” he asks. “You know, I’m not actually sure.”

He groans, staring at what he’s already made. It might be fine, but then again, it might not be, and if it’s not—

“Virgil,” Logan says, a bit of amusement creeping into his voice. “Please, breathe. Overly processed meat products are not worthy of your distress.”

“But—”

“No,” Logan says, “none of that. Even if we don’t know which he prefers, I find it unlikely that he will reject it out of hand if it’s crispier or chewier than he likes. And besides, if it would ease your mind, there is still plenty of time to make more, and that can be crispier than this first batch, so he can choose what he wants.”

He closes his eyes, nodding, turning over the words in his mind. As always, Logan knows exactly what to say to bring him out of a spiral.

“Right,” he says, and then again, because it’s reassuring to hear it out loud. “Right.”

Logan smiles at him, and then, almost too quickly to process, presses a soft kiss to the corner of Virgil’s mouth. He feels himself heating up, especially when he hears Roman laugh a bit.

“There we are,” Logan says fondly, and Virgil doesn’t see so much as sense Roman sneaking around to his other side. He anticipates the kiss, smacked against his cheek, wet and sloppy. He turns to glare, but Roman grins back at him unabashedly.

“I hear it’s loving Virgil hours?” he asks, and Virgil resists the urge to groan.

“It’s ten ‘til seven,” Logan says, but dashes Virgil’s hopes by following that up with, “though I’m not sure why the time matters. Every time is a good time to love Virgil.”

“Oh my god,” he says, and prays that his blush isn’t as obvious as he thinks it is. He may not have much dignity left to speak of, but he has a little bit, if he can hang on to it. “Isn’t it supposed to be loving Patton hours? Can we focus on that, please?”

“We can multitask,” Roman singsongs. “Muffins going in.”

Wordlessly, Virgil steps aside to allow him access to the oven.

“Actually,” Logan says, leaning against the counter with a self-satisfied expression, “the human brain is not designed for true multitasking. This is what makes speaking on the phone while driving so dangerous; if one attempts to accomplish multiple tasks at once, the ability to do all of them is severely compromised.” He pauses. “Though I believe Roman’s point does stand.”

“Of course it does,” Roman says airily. “We have so much love to go around.”

Logan concedes the point with a tilt of his head, but any attempt at stoicism is ruined by the grin twitching at the edges of his lips. Virgil rolls his eyes and dumps more bacon into his pan, but he has to admit, he does feel a lot more relaxed.

Which was probably their goal all along.

They finish up breakfast. Logan makes several omelets that are up to his standards, and Roman’s muffins come out of the oven perfectly baked, soft and crumbly on the top. And Virgil makes another batch of bacon, crispy this time, and then one more for good measure, just to make sure there’s enough of both kinds. Roman goes about setting the table for four, back to humming quietly to himself.

Virgil tunes into the sound on instinct, letting the ebb and flow of Roman’s voice ground him.

Logan surveys the spread of food with satisfaction. “Some fruit, perhaps?” he suggests, and Virgil veers over toward the fridge, digging through to find some strawberries. He’s washing them up when there is a sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and everyone else quiets.

Virgil turns to see Patton standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and his first thought is that he looks like crap. His hair is still mussed from sleep, and he has a thick blanket draped across his shoulders, but that’s not what catches Virgil’s attention; it’s the bloodshot look in his eyes and the bags underneath them, pointing to at least one restless night, if not more. It’s a look that Virgil is used to seeing in his own mirror; he doesn’t like seeing it on Patton.

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan says softly. “We made breakfast for you.”

Patton blinks owlishly, and for a moment, his face is completely blank, as if the words haven’t registered with him at all. Then, his eyes flicker to the table, and then to the mess in the kitchen, and go wide.

“You did all this for me?” he asks, his voice small.

Roman drapes his arms over him from behind, kissing his cheek just in front of his ear.

“Of course,” he says.

“We’ve noticed that you haven’t been feeling well lately,” Logan adds. “We hoped that this might help you feel better.”

A smile breaks out on Patton’s face, then, thin and watery and wavering but there all the same, and it is such a relief to see that Virgil feels as though a physical weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Patton gestures toward Logan, who steps forward obligingly into the hug, and then Patton looks to Virgil, who is still hovering awkwardly around the sink, hands full of strawberries, and, well. He can never deny Patton anything, and a group hug sounds nice, so he sets the strawberries down on the counter and moves to join them. It’s a big, warm embrace with Patton in the middle, and Virgil sighs as the last of his tension drips out of him, leaving him uncommonly relaxed.

“I love you guys so much,” Patton says. “Thank you.”

“Love you too, Pat,” Virgil murmurs, and though his voice gets a little bit lost in between the other two saying much the same thing, he knows that Patton hears him, because he turns to him for just a second and smiles, brighter and more genuine, and really, that makes all the stress of the morning completely worth it.

So, they have breakfast, and it’s good, and Virgil notices that Patton doesn’t seem to have much a preference between the two types of bacon, but that’s more than alright, because the point is to make Patton a bit happier, and the small smile on his face says that they’ve succeeded at that. So maybe the world isn’t ending at all.

Because Virgil would rather die than say something so cheesy out loud, but he’s got his entire world right here, sitting around the table in the early morning light, food and company and love to spare.

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfordshysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad

[just-some-friendly-fun]

For fun, what if your OCs were cooking? Which ones have the actual patience for it, which ones can't cook, or which would just burn the kitchen down?

Hm, I’ll put it in a categorized list with at least most of my OCs on the list who stand out and for those OCs, who are not exactly human or humanoid, let’s just put them temporarily in a human AU:

Quartzstreak — (Transformers: TFP) very much has the patience for cooking and can show higher culinary expertise than most of her comrades in the Decepticon rankings. In the human AU, or as I’d called it, Project Cybertron AU, she probably would’ve gotten her cooking experience from her mother and father, pre-war/pre-draft.

Ace — (Transformers: RiD15) I mean, she’s gotten a basic understanding of cooking. She can’t make certain things on her own without a recipe but she can at least make pancakes, bread, eggs, omelet, mostly just the basic stuff like I said. She can understand the patience for it but if she’s on a tight schedule then she’ll gladly snatch a cold waffle right out of the fridge, not toasted, not anything. She just eats it cold like a popsicle. I headcanon that she would also be someone out of Steeljaw’s pack to at least know how to cook, aside from a special few, because let’s be honest a good portion of *gestures to Steeljaw’s Pack* that. Definitely does not know how to do anything without setting the place ablaze. There was only one accident with Ace and that was just when she tried baking some bread and lightly touched the metal in the oven, leading to her temporary hate for ovens for quite some time.

Titania — (?) She’s got many years to spend, so why not spend some time learning how to cook? She can cook very well and she enjoys it a lot! Patience for cooking is also achievable for her. She’s mostly learned to make different types of food from other places but is always welcomed to the idea of cooking food for her family instead of herself as well. If there aren’t any people in the kitchen, she’ll gladly use whatever’s available for her to use in cooking. She loves decorating her food in any way she can, it’s an enjoyable part. Do expect some sort of neatly organized or cutely designed meal from her.

Ms. Norette — (Deltarune) Well, she’s always wanted to open up a bakery in Hometown, but considering her situation of discovering Kris and the adventures in Dark World. She’s come to realize a new goal in making a bakery for both Hometown and the Dark World, so it’s accessible to everyone!— okay, enough rambling but yeah! She mostly bakes a lot of pastries and handcrafts a lot of sweets to give out to the neighbor’s kids and the children in the dark world but is always inclined to make something else like certain types of coffee (ex. Cappuccino, Mocha) <- I mean if that counts.

Dorran Hemlock — (Helluva Boss/ Hazbin Hotel) Banned. Absolutely do not let this gremlin anywhere near your stove or any cooking equipment. Just- do. NOT.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Appetite

Here’s my Malex Secret Santa gift for @djchika, who asked for some domestic Malex with one of them teaching the other how to cook! I hope you like it, Deej!

Also on AO3!

***

“Hey, Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks without looking up. He’d moved his laptop to the kitchen table at Michael’s request, but he still has a little work to finish before he’s free for the evening.

“Can you grab me the cumin from the spice cabinet?” Michael asks, and when Alex tears his gaze away from the screen, he sees Michael staring back, head turned over his shoulder to look at him as he stirs a pot of something on the stove that smells absolutely delicious.

“Sure, one sec,” he says, typing the last few lines of code as quick as he can.

When he’s done, he shuts his laptop and sets it to the side before straightening up and heading to the spice cabinet. He digs around a little, shifting bottles here and there to try to find what Michael needs, but he comes up empty.

“Bottom left, behind the paprika,” Michael supplies helpfully after a minute of Alex’s fruitless shuffling.

Alex looks over and sure enough, there, behind the paprika, right where Michael said it would be, is the cumin. He isn’t sure when exactly it was that Michael made the transition from feeling like he wasn’t welcome to stay the night to being intimately familiar with the inside of his spice cabinet, but the fact that he feels so at home in Alex’s space makes affection bloom warm in Alex’s chest as he plucks the bottle off the shelf.

“Thanks,” Michael smiles when he hands him the bottle, and Alex is helpless against the impulse to lean in and kiss him.

Michael welcomes the kiss without hesitation, humming softly against his mouth as he turns to face him more directly, the bottle of cumin still gripped between his fingers. Alex smiles, a little smug that he’s able to steal Michael’s attention so easily even when he’s in the middle of something.

It’s not until he feels the tip of Michael’s tongue flick against his bottom lip that Alex pulls back, not so eager to be the reason Michael burns whatever he’s cooking when they inevitably drive each other to distraction.

“Any time,” Alex says when he’s managed to put a few inches of space between them.

Michael blinks at him, his brain taking a moment to come back online, before he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“Tease,” Michael accuses lightly, and Alex rolls his eyes affectionately even as he steps behind him and wraps his arms around his waist.

“I don’t think I’ve earned that title,” Alex tells him in a low voice, lips barely an inch from the shell of Michael’s ear. “Not yet, anyway.”

Michael groans softly at the thought and Alex can’t help but chuckle and press a fleeting kiss to his cheek.

“Are you done with work?” Michael asks, leaning back against his chest a little in a way that makes Alex feel warm and protective. He knows it’s impractical, but he could hold Michael like this all day.

“Mhmm,” Alex hums. When Michael doesn’t say anything else, Alex hooks his chin over his shoulder and watches as he adds some cumin to the ground beef browning in the pot, not bothering to measure it. “What are you making?”

“Chili,” Michael answers, stirring the meat to incorporate all the spices. “You want to try some?”

Alex’s stomach growls audibly at the question, making them both laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Michael says, and after a moment of more stirring to make sure the beef is all browned, Michael reaches into the cutlery drawer to his left and takes out a clean spoon without looking. He dips it into the pot, scoops out some seasoned ground beef, and feeds it to Alex over his shoulder.

Alex can’t suppress the pleased sound he makes when he tastes it. The beef is delicious—savory and a little salty with a strong kick of spice that lingers on his tongue.

“What do you think?” Michael asks, twisting in his arms to try to see his reaction.

“It’s really good,” Alex tells him, and he doesn’t need to see Michael’s face to know he’s warming under his praise, but it’s always nice to watch it happen anyway. If Michael isn’t careful, Alex will need to kiss him again.

“How’s the spice?” Michael asks. “I could add some more jalapeños before I add the rest of the ingredients if you want.”

“No, the spice is perfect,” Alex insists.

Michael beams at him before he turns back to the pot. With one parting peck to the back of Michael’s head, Alex steps away and gives him some space to work, leaning casually against the side of the fridge while he watches Michael push the spices toward the back of the counter and start assembling the remaining ingredients.

“How’d you get so good at this anyway?” Alex wonders as Michael squeezes in some tomato paste, once again without needing to measure it.

“What?” Michael asks, eyes on the pot while he mixes it in.

“Cooking,” Alex explains. “You’re so confident you’re not even following a recipe.”

“Yeah, I am,” Michael says, and Alex hasn’t seen a piece of paper or anything lying around with instructions on it, so Michael must have just memorized it, which is… not surprising for Michael as much as it is crazy for Alex to imagine doing himself. “I’m just… being creative in my interpretation of it.”

“So…” Alex starts, cocking his head, “you looked at the ingredients and now you’re winging it?”

“A bit, yeah,” Michael admits.

“Damn,” Alex says with the gravity that deserves.

“It’s really not that impressive,” Michael insists.

“Improvising a dish you read the ingredients for one time isn’t impressive?” Alex asks incredulously.

Michael is silent a moment while he thinks about it.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just used to it,” Michael says at last. “I didn’t exactly have a recipe book growing up, so I’d just do the best I could with what I could get my hands on, which didn’t always turn out so good.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, curious to hear more.

“Mhmm. Learned the hard way not to use ketchup as a replacement for tomato sauce.”

“Oh my god,” Alex says, pulling a face at the thought of pouring a squirt of Heinz over some pasta.

“Yeah,” Michael laughs. “Not my finest moment.”

“Did you cook a lot when you were younger?” Alex asks, surprised he’s never heard about any of this before. In high school and that summer that followed it, he and Michael would usually meet up either in the afternoon when Alex had to be home by dinner, or far later when Alex could sneak out in the middle of the night, so food wasn’t really something they’d shared or talked about a lot.

“Depends where I was,” Michael answers. “The addicts never had any food to cook and the Fundamentalists were big on ‘family dinners,’ but cooking was ‘women’s work’ so I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. When I was on my own though, I bought what was on sale or, well—” Michael cuts himself off, shifting his eyes in Alex’s direction before he sighs and says, “Let’s just say I had to get creative with my ingredients for a while in more ways than one.”

“You don’t have to talk in euphemisms, Michael,” Alex tells him kindly, reaching out for his hand. “I know you did what you had to do to survive. I’m glad you did,” he says, and he means it. He might have been judgmental about Michael’s criminal history at first, but they’re a long way from that disastrous evening at the Drive-In.

Michael tangles their fingers together and squeezes once, his smile a little brittle.

“Anyway, yeah,” Michael continues, “once I got access to a fire pit I was actually able to teach myself how to cook.”

“Wait, seriously?” Alex asks, eyebrows lifting in sudden surprise. “The fire pit?”

Now it’s Michael’s turn to look confused.

“Alex, I’ve made you dinner on the fire pit like a hundred times,” Michael says.

“No, I know, it’s just—“ Alex pauses, searching for the words. “I guess I never thought that that was how you learned how to cook.”

“Well, Sanders let me use his kitchen sometimes too,” Michael says.

���Right,” Alex nods. Michael’s mentioned before that Sanders is the reason why his omelets are nearly as good as Arturo’s. “So after cooking like that for so long, winging it is easy?”

“I guess, yeah,” Michael shrugs. “And, really, at the end of the day, cooking’s just chemistry—except things don’t generally explode as much when you mess up.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” Alex disagrees. “You should’ve seen me try to make brownies when I was a kid.”

“That bad?” Michael cringes.

“Oh yeah,” Alex answers. He’ll never forget that icy chill that ran down his spine when he’d seen what he’d done to the inside of the oven. If it wasn’t for Greg’s help cleaning everything up before their father got home, Alex probably would have been torn to pieces.

“Well, if you were making brownies, that’s baking. Cooking’s much more forgiving than baking,” Michael says. He gives Alex an assessing look before he says, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

Alex hesitantly closes the short distance between them, helped along by Michael tugging him by the hem of his shirt.

Michael must catch the reticence on his face because a second later he says, “Oh come on, you got this. I’ll talk you through it.”

“If you say so,” Alex sighs. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, you can start by opening the cans of crushed tomatoes and kidney beans,” Michael says.

Alex laughs. “Okay, I think I can manage that.”

In the time it takes Michael to run to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer and an opened container of beef broth leftover from the stroganoff he’d made the other day, Alex is already done.

“Do I add all of it?” Alex asks, holding the can of beans over the pot.

“Not those yet,” Michael says. “They need to be drained and rinsed. Do you know where the colander is?”

That Alex does know—he may be culinarily challenged, but he’s got his shit together enough to know how to boil water and follow the directions on a box of Kraft like every other red-blooded American.

He fishes it out from the cabinet under the counter in front of him and takes it to the sink along with the can of beans.

“So I just toss them in the colander and rinse them?” Alex double-checks.

“Yup!” Michael answers, upending the bottle of beer over the pot for a few counts before taking a long drink. “Bring ‘em over when you’re done.”

Alex rinses the beans thoroughly and shakes them over the sink to get rid of the excess water before carrying the colander back over to where Michael is standing by the stove. There’s a cutting board set up with a knife and two green bell peppers when he gets there. The can of crushed tomatoes he opened is already empty, so Michael must have tossed that in too while he was waiting.

“Do you want to dice the peppers?” Michael asks.

“Um,” Alex says, looking at them suspiciously. “Sure?”

“Here, I’ll do one and you can do the other,” Michael says, stepping in front of Alex to get at the cutting board. “Just watch what I do.”

Alex stands at his side and watches intently.

“You’ll want to start by cutting the stems and the bottoms off,” Michael tells him as he slices them off one of the peppers. “Then you should slice it down the middle and remove the seeds and this white stuff inside.” Michael runs his knife along the inner flesh of the pepper, cutting away the white until there’s nothing but green. “And now we can dice it.”

Michael cuts the pepper into strips and then pushes them together horizontally so he can dice them with another swift pass of his knife, leaving the pepper in uniform squares.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Michael says, moving aside so Alex can take his place.

Alex picks up the knife and follows Michael’s instructions. He thinks he’ll be able to manage it okay, as long as he doesn’t let Michael’s gentle encouragement in his ear distract him too much—He knows his way around a knife after all, albeit in very different circumstances.

He’s doing fine until he gets to the actual dicing part. His fingers can’t seem to keep a steady enough grip on the pepper strips to make the kind of uniform cuts that Michael had been able to execute.

“Hang on,” Michael murmurs, and a moment later Alex feels him warm and solid against his back.

Alex swallows as Michael’s palms travel down the length of his forearms, not stopping until he covers Alex’s hands with his own. He feels caged in like this, pressed up against the counter a little, Michael’s breath fanning over the back of his neck, and suddenly Alex’s thoughts are very far away from the chili he’s supposed to be helping Michael make.

“You want to let the knife do the work here,” Michael tells him, grabbing Alex’s attention once again. “It’s sharp, it’ll slice through it much easier if you don’t add so much pressure.” He guides Alex’s hand as he slices through a row of peppers, the motion much smoother now. “See? Much easier that way. Now try it on your own.”

Michael drops his hands to rest on Alex’s hips as he watches over his shoulder. Alex tries not to be distracted by the way his fingers are edging up under the hem of his shirt, the way Michael’s low hum of approval when he passes the knife over the peppers again makes his heart beat faster.

He thinks he has it handled until Michael drawls in his ear, “Perfect. Just like that, Alex. Nice, even strokes,” and Alex nearly chops his own finger off.

“Michael,” he says sharply, head spinning a little.

“Hm?” the bastard hums lazily, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Are you fucking with me?” Alex asks, and he can feel Michael’s chest rumble with laughter against his back.

“Not yet,” Michael says, nuzzling into the side of his head a little to press a kiss over his pounding pulse, and Alex has to let go of the knife before he really does hurt himself.

He can feel Michael smile against his neck when he takes a deep, calming breath, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Go wash your hands,” Alex tells him, needing a minute to clear his head, “and then tell me how to finish this.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael says, and then the hands on his hips and the warmth at his back are gone.

Once he hears the sink running, Alex makes short work of the peppers and adds them to the pot.

Michael comes back a short moment later and stirs the diced peppers into the pot with one hand as he fiddles with the burner knob with the other. Alex leaves him to it while he washes his own hands.

“Perfect,” Michael comments when he’s satisfied. “Now it just needs to simmer for an hour.”

Alex doesn’t waste any time stepping back into Michael’s space, not even bothering to dry his hands on the dish towel Michael left by the sink. If Michael is upset about the water soaking into the thin fabric of his t-shirt where Alex grips his waist, he doesn’t say so. Instead, his hands slide up Alex’s shoulders, one of them finding a home in the short hair at the back of his neck.

“A whole hour, huh?” Alex asks, eyes drifting down toward Michael’s mouth.

“Mhmm,” Michael hums slowly, a coy smile spreading over his lips.

“That’s a lot of time,” Alex muses. “What do you think we should do with it?”

Michael’s grip on Alex’s hair tightens just a little. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Michael manages to set the timer on the stove before Alex drags him back to his bedroom.

It’s a good thing, too. By the time the alarm goes off, they’ve worked up quite the appetite.

[bubblyani]

Delicious as You

(Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

A Lucifer Morningstar One Shot

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,304

Summary: Unexpectedly stopping by one night during your cooking adventures in the kitchen, Lucifer was determined to have you all to himself. But to his surprise, you were equally determined to get your cooking done. Who will win?

Author’s Note: Sorry for being absent without any Lucifer content. Had this idea while I was cooking one day. Stayed in my head for a while until I finally decided to vent my frustration through words. Enjoy Thirsty Luci-fans!

He watched her, like a hawk. But instead of having a predatory intention, he was full of fascination. He drank in the curves of her face, the warm cheeks that lifted as she smiled to herself, the wrinkles that formed in the corners of her eyes, giving her lips some competition with a touch of sunshine. He drank it all while she worked her magic in the kitchen. She was certainly lost in her own little world.

For she had not even noticed his presence for the last 5 minutes. Bored already, he decided to change that.

“Boo…”

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

“Boo!”

Looking up, a squeak came out of you as you clutched your chest, dropping the steel bowl on the counter top with loud clang. You realized it was Lucifer Morningstar standing before you, his hands resting inside his pockets while he watched you work in the kitchen island.

“Lucifer!” You cried out, “H-How did you get in here?” You babbled. “Well…I seem to recall you giving me a spare key to your humble abode…” he said nonchalantly, holding up the small key for display. Sighing with relief, you chuckled. Of course you did, you remember promising him one when he repeatedly demanded whilst claiming his rights.  

“Oh yeah…I forgot that” You said, pushing the steel bowl to the back, “Well…how can I help you today?” Your tone was a mocking equivalent to a sales assistant at a clothing store. Lucifer scoffed in kind.

“I prefer to call this a visit from a concerned lover, rather than a favor” he replied with much sass. You stifled a smile. Indeed, you were more than happy to have your super handsome, wonderfully talented and secretly benevolent boyfriend around more than anything. Truthfully, sometimes you would even wonder what made him fall for you in the first place.

“In the mood for a culinary adventure tonight?” Lucifer inquired, walking over to your side. You nodded.

“You bet, slow cooking night, baby!” You said joyfully, whilst peeling off the papery layers of some onions and cloves of garlic. Cooking was always exhilarating. But slow cooking with a touch of exotic flavors brought it to another level. No wonder you were in high spirits. No wonder a smile was on your face when the pieces of meat were seasoned with sea salt and ground black pepper, before Lucifer frightened the living daylights out of you.

“As much as I commend your love of the culinary arts…” Lucifer stressed, before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “…the dance floors at Lux misses you immensely…And so does my warm bed…” he purred. As much as it brought warmth to your heart, you laughed it out to sound unaffected:

“Ha! Now that’s a panty dropper of a line” you joked, taking the knife in hand to chop the onions. You felt Lucifer scoff as his breath fell on your neck.

“Oh! Humor was clearly not the intended emotion I was trying rouse from you…” he said, flashing a naughty smile. Though you were busy crushing the garlic, your heart felt heavy for the man. Due to your recent busy schedule, you were deprived of the opportunity to visit and witness the flourishing business of his nightclub, LUX. You missed it as well, for every night there was a night to remember. And seeing the proud smile on Lucifer’s face every time you would wake up in his bed was something to hold on to.

“Awww…” You pouted, looking his way, “…just be a little patient, babe…” you said, turning back to chopping, “I’ll be right…” you paused to yawn , “…with you”. Whilst yawning, your body involuntarily stretched, pushing your buttocks back, only to accidentally have them brush against his clothed manhood. “Oh…my” You heard Lucifer mutter with fascination. Not caring much for it, you completely missed the naughty smile that returned to his face. A few seconds later, you suddenly felt the tightly wrapped apron loosen.

“Lucifer…?” You began questioningly,“What are you doing?” When you caught him in the act.

“Oh, you know. Just being patient…” He said innocently, his hands firmly gripping on your waist, “…might as well keep myself occupied…” he purred. Suspicious, you raised your eyebrows. “Clearly…” you said, “But w-oh!” Your suspicions were on point when you realized his right hand quickly dug inside your elastic shorts. Stomach retracting in response, it was the moment you knew where this was heading, what his intentions were, “Oh…you’re cheeky…”

“Not as cheeky as you are…” Lucifer teased smugly, slapping your buttocks in an instant. You chuckled loudly. Except those chuckles only lasted a few seconds when you gasped , queuing his beautiful fingers to graze over your panties. The few weeks of sexual depravity was handed to the world on a silver platter with your hushed breaths and twitching.

“Your resolute attitude is much appreciated, Mr. Morningstar…” your voice shook, as you reached for the mortar and pestle, “…but I have a dish to prepare…Oh my!…” unable to finish the sentence, you cried out. He defied you when his skilled fingers dipped inside your cotton panties, obtaining close contact with the bare skin between your thighs.

This, this was a battle of the wills. Being the stubborn man he was, Lucifer Morningstar would stop at nothing to get what he desired: You.

But you were not going to give up so easily. No matter he would try to make you cave in, you will thrive with your culinary mission tonight.

“In the mood for some spices, Lucifer?” Your inquiry was brimming with teases, taking a few steps to grab the steel spice container. Like a conjoined twin, he followed you wherever you moved towards. “Why not?” He breathed against your ear, “Nothing’s better than getting this tongue fired up…”

Adding spices in the correct measurements to a mortar would typically be considered an easy task. But nothing was of the typical nature at this moment. Not when your lover was occupied in distracting you using the nastiest method possible. Your body began to jerk when you felt three of his fingers familiarize themselves with the fleshy outer lips around your slit. His index finger and ring finger marked their territories there, while his middle finger gingerly stroked the sensitive tip that began to swell the longer he stroked it in tiny flicks. Having gained access to the part which induced the most pleasure, Lucifer held the liberty to do whatever he pleased with it. His finger stroked it in circles, he stroked it in straight lines, in triangles, and even in shapes that only existed in his subconscious. Regardless, every second he played with you, a small fire was lit up within, only to have that fire burst into gigantic flames. When he daringly inserted that finger into your thoroughly wet opening. All while his ears indulged in your cries of pleasure.


Taking the pestle, you began to grind up the onions, garlic with the spices in a fashion that was much more intense than it was previously done. And Lucifer noticed instantly. He felt victorious.

“My my…aren’t you the hard worker?” He commented in a seductive tone. Bitting your lower lip due to the fact his finger was literally inside of you, chuckling was the only option. “Of course, how else am I to let my frustrations out?” You said, looking over to him. “Well…” he said, licking his lips, “…you can always turn back to me-” “Not until this is done” you insisted, not willing to give up. Not ever. “Your call, darling” Lucifer said, as his finger quickly began to move in and out of you. Groaning, you finally stopped grinding the spices. “Ah fuck!” You cried out, “…fuck fuck fuck…” you repeated through gritted teeth,  “Lucifer, that’s not helping” you added with desperation. “Who said I intended to help?” He said darkly, his stubble grazing over your shoulder. He was not jesting for sure. When your hand reached out to grab the salted meat in the steel bowl, Lucifer’s left hand surprised you, by reaching up to cup your left breast over the t-shirt. But you would be fibbing if you did not admit your increased arousal at that point. Feeling the softness that resting on his palm, Lucifer was more than pleased.

“Oh!” He said amusingly, “Braless at home, are we?” He smiled mischievously,  “Lucifer, you lucky devil…” he said to himself. You rolled your eyes with a grin. “And again with the Devil persona…Ah!” Once again, you were forced to bite your lower lip when his fingers moved steadily in rhythm. Closing your eyes, you wished to savor this. Savor his loving to your leisure. But you had meat to marinade. Looking at the spice paste and the meat, you inhaled with determination. “Okay…” you began, smearing the spices over the pieces of meat, “This shouldn’t be too hard…Oh fuck!” Throwing your head back, you felt Lucifer tease you even more. For whilst you smeared and massaged the raw meat with the aromatic paste, his eager right hand massaged your breast, even having the audacity to pull the nipple through the shirt, making it thoroughly erect. “Ah! Shan’t leave the other feeling jealous…” Lucifer said, which made your eyebrows furrow. “What? Oh Lucifer….” You moaned, when you realized how his hand moved to your other breast to do the same. With two erect buds at the mercy of his touch, you felt the heat increase within you like a sauna.

“Oh boy…” you exhaled frustratingly, trying so hard not to scream in arousal with this torture. This sweet, delicious torture to be specific. Turning the stove on, you poured the oil on to the Dutch Oven. But it was certainly a challenge when your lovers hands were all over you. Lucifer’s mischievous chuckle tickled your ears.

“Come on, Y/N…” Lucifer whispered, “You know you want this bad…”. He thought he had you, dead to rights.

When the ginger and garlic paste infused with the cinnamon sticks in the hot oil, the aroma was invigorating. Throwing your head back over his shoulder, you tried to distinguish the pleasures you were gifted with. The aroma of your cooking, and the eager passionate touch of the man you longed to defile everywhere with.

“Not…until…it’s done…” you said with difficulty. As much as you said this to him, this was also for yourself. Only a little while longer till you had to hold out on this frustration. Truthfully, you could just stop all this, spin around and pounce at him wildly. But the task you started with genuine interest would end up burnt, ignored and wasted. When you added the seasoned meat into the pan, you heard the pan sizzle loudly whilst indulging on the rich aroma that traveled all the way through your nostrils.

“Well, I do like a challenge” Lucifer cried out, proceeding to make everything more diffusely by kissing your neck. His lips on your neck, his hands on your bosom and between your thighs, he literally was lighting you in flames. The delicious aroma and the whiff of his cologne mixed together drove you wild with arousal. You could imagine it, his body on top of your own, licking his own lips before he proceeded to your lick your bare frame, eating off the food you just cooked. No matter what he did, he was insanely skilled at it. He was simply inhuman. Though you washed your hands frantically, though your cleansed your hands of the spices, your mind becoming filthier by the second. Holding the tap tightly, you felt a jerk inside. That was it.

“Lucifer!” You moaned, “I’m close…so close…” you breathed, motivating his fingers to increase speed. Moving your hands towards the marble counter, a loud cry exited your lips as you finally, found your release.

This release was certainly different from all the others you have shared with him.

“Whoa!” You panted, as his fingers retracted, “What-How did you even do that?” You said, looking at him over the shoulder. He smiled. “Darling…”  Lucifer began with pride,  “It’s me…” he said, making your jaw drop as he brought his finger to his lips, sucking your juices in front of your very eyes. You shook your head. “Show off..” You panted with a smile. He chuckled, looking at the pan,  “I bet that won’t be as delicious as you are, my darling” “Normally, I’d be insulted if anyone disses my cooking…” you said, as you stirred the meat, “…but in this case I really don’t know what to say…” you added dreamily. “A Thank you would be suffice…” “How about this…as a thank you?” You said, making his eyes widened with disbelief when you finally closed the the lid of the dutch oven, and turning the stove heat low. Your job was complete. And now it was all up to time to solve this culinary equation.

“Finally…” turning you towards him, Lucifer pulled to kiss you roughly on the lips. It felt like you were being gifted for doing a wonderful job. His kisses were that rewarding. You blushed when you tasted yourself in him, especially as his tongue jumped in to show you.

“Now that I have your complete attention…” your lover began, letting you go, “I’m afraid you won’t escape me for a few hours” he said. You giggled.

“F-few?” You inquired, seeing him put away his phone “Oh wow” you chuckled, full of squeals when he grabbed you by the waist once again.

“Darling…” he purred, brushing his nose against yours, “…Tonight I’m all yours…”

When he kissed you fully once more, you were certainly very glad you decided on slow cooking tonight.

——————————————————

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[tlbodine]

Thanksgiving is Gonna Be Weird: A Survival Guide for 2020

It’s 2020, the pandemic is worse than ever, and the holidays are right around the corner. No matter what, this is going to be a weird Thanksgiving for a lot of people. With travel restrictions in place and most of us having a mighty desire not to murder our friends and family by spreading around a disease, there’s a good chance that you’re going to be celebrating a bit differently this year. 

And, hey, maybe you decide not to celebrate at all. Which is perfectly valid! 

But maybe you’re staring down the possibility of your first Thanksgiving on your own, or feeding just the small group you live for rather than a big crowd, or some other unusual circumstance. And if that’s the case, I wanted to compile together some resources/ideas to help you out. I know this isn’t my usual horror fare, but...well, I hope it’s helpful, regardless. 

“Help, I’ve Never Made Thanksgiving Dinner Before” Starter Kit

Maybe you’ve always gone home for the holidays but are currently stuck in an apartment with a few roommates, and none of you have any intensive cooking skills. Maybe you always take the kids to Grandma’s house and have never had to contribute more than a side dish but now really want to do a proper Thanksgiving feast for your partner(s), kid(s) and whoever else lives in your house. 

Never fear! A Thanksgiving feast doesn’t have to be intimidating! In fact, Thanksgiving foods are usually pretty simple; the most challenging part of the whole feast is the project management aspect of working with a lot of different dishes and getting everything ready at once. But the smaller your crowd to feed, the easier that is! 

So, the first thing you’ll want to do is come up with a menu. Sit down and write a list of all the foods you normally eat and enjoy on Thanksgiving. If something is served at your family meal that you’ve never cared for, guess what? You can boot that bad boy right off the list! 

By and large, the standard Thanksgiving feast consists of: 

Roast turkey 

Mashed potatoes

Gravy

Some kind of dinner roll

Cranberry sauce

Some number of vegetable side dishes (often a green been casserole and a sweet potato casserole) 

Some kind of dessert (often/traditionally a pumpkin pie) 

I’ve linked above some easy & favorite techniques/recipes for all of these foods, but of course you can buy time-saving convenience items to get you rolling -- from potato flakes to gravy mix to premade pie. I won’t tell if you don’t. 

If there’s something you’re used to eating every year that you don’t know how to make....call whoever usually makes it! If at all possible, obviously, I’m not recommending you do a seance to talk to your dead great-aunt and get her rolls recipe. Just, like...phone up your friend/family member, get the recipe, and use it as an opportunity to connect. Odds are both of you are missing the human interaction. 

“Hey, That’s Nice, But I Live in a Dorm Room”  Edition 

Okay, okay, I get it. You’re away at college and can’t get home to see your family safely and you’re living in some kind of weird socially isolated dorm situation where you have limited access to cooking implements. Or, shit, idk, maybe you’re couch-surfing or living in a motel or otherwise not in possession of a full kitchen. 

I got you, fam. 

Do you have at your disposal a microwave? Rice cooker? Even an electric kettle will work! 

If you have some way to boil water, you can make instant mashed potatoes, gravy, and stove-top stuffing. If you have a microwave, you can steam some vegetables and bake a sweet potato. For dessert, core an apple, stuff the cavity with brown sugar + cinnamon + butter and nuke in the microwave for 4 minutes. 

It’s hypothetically possible to microwave a turkey, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Instead, I’d opt to buy a deli roast chicken (about $5 at most grocery stores), or even just some turkey deli meat. Alternatively, ham usually just needs to be warmed rather than cooked, and you can buy a big ol’ ham steak at the store for a couple of bucks. 

“I’m Dead Broke Because COVID, Send Help” 

You know the great thing about Thanksgiving food? It’s cheap. No, really! It can be, anyway, especially since a lot of foods go on sale. 

In my area anyway, the local Wal-Mart and Smith’s Grocery have: 

A can of green beans for about 79 cents

A bag of instant mashed potatoes for about $1 

A big can of yams for about $1, or fresh yams for 50 cents/lb (usually a couple sweet potatoes = 1lb) 

Canned corn or peas + corn for 50 cents, or steam-in-bag veggies of your choice for $1 

Stovetop stuffing for $1 or sometimes even 50 cents per box 

Margarine for 79 cents to $1 

Gravy mix packets for 50 cents each

A can of cranberry sauce for $1 or less

Most of these are also available at Dollar Tree! 

A lot of food banks will also be giving out turkeys this time of year, and some grocery stores will give you a free turkey if you spend $50 or $100 on groceries or whatever. Do you have an older relative who needs groceries? Ask if you can go buy their food and deliver it to their door (contactless!) and keep the free turkey.

You can pretty easily feed a group of 4-6 for $20 or so, especially if you’re willing to be flexible on your protein. And what are you doing feeding more than 6 people in the middle of a pandemic, huh? 

“I’m Used to Hosting a Big Dinner But There’s Only Like Three Of Us Living In This House WTF How Do I Scale This Shit Down” 

Maybe you are a Thanksgiving veteran. Maybe you’re accustomed to hosting for a big crowd and cooking a small meal just seems dumb and pointless. I feel you. This is my life right now! But don’t despair! 

The way I see it, you’ve got a couple-three options: 

Option One: 

Cook your turkey + a different side each day, and eat your Thanksgiving feast spread out over a week or so. It’ll keep your leftovers from dominating your fridge, let you eat something fresh, and allow you to enjoy all your favorite recipes. Downside is you’ll have to cook every day, so you tell me if you’re too busy to do that. 

Option Two: 

Cook everything that you normally would, but portion off half of it or whatever to stuff into your freezer, or go deliver it to somebody else’s door. The odds are pretty good that you’ve got a friend or family member who is freaking out about the holiday, and if you can’t see them in person, you can at least drop food off on their porch and then honk aggressively/cheerfully from the safety of your car! 

Option Three: 

Make something different this year. If you’re a foodie, take this as an opportunity to challenge yourself to create something high-maintenance and weird that you wouldn’t normally make. This is a good choice if you’re off work and stuck in your house with nothing else to do. Basically you’re subbing out quantity for quality so the meal still feels special and unique even if it’s, y’know....just you and your cat, or whoever. 

PS: Roasting a whole chicken or a cornish game hen is a fun, small-scale way to get your bird-in-the-oven experience. You can also buy a turkey breast and just cook that, which will be a lot faster than the whole bird anyway. 

"I’m An Essential Worker And I’m Working Thanksgiving And Have No Time To Do ANYTHING, What Now?” 

Dude, I get it. And whether you’re a doctor, nurse, grocery store employee, or whatever other essential service-worker, my heart goes out to you because hoo boy this year has been shit, hasn’t it? I can’t do anything about the hazard pay situation, but I CAN tell you that there are a few places offering delivery-based Thanksgiving meal options! 

You might want to search around a bit for your specific area. Cracker Barrel, Marie Callendar’s, Boston Market, and other types of branded “home-cooking” type restaurants tend to have some kind of Thanksgiving thing. Why not call your local restaurant fav to see if they’re doing something similar? Most restaurants are desperate for a way to stay afloat right now, so a ton of places that don’t traditionally deliver are offering curbside service now. It’s worth a try! 

So, there you have it. 

I hope some of these tips taught you something new, pointed you to a helpful resource, or gave you some ideas. More than anything, I just want everybody to be safe and happy this holiday. So, please -- get creative, wear your mask while you’re shopping, avoid the get-togethers, and be careful. You may save a life!