#One lobster can take them all out

[savage-rhi]

Fuchsia? 😂

[foldingfittedsheets]

Before my beloved and I moved in together they were living with roommates in a place that didn't have a bathtub. Now, a reasonable person might conclude from this that baths would be out of the equation in a home with only one standing shower and no tub.

But these people weren't quitters. Naturopathic doctors and acupuncturists they were dedicated to treating their bodies well and one of the ways they liked to do that was hydrotherapy. Most people are familiar with this through things like polar bear plunges. You sit in a hot tub then jump in freezing water.

It's supposedly good for you and they were way into it. But again, no tub. They'd do hydro showers but it just wasn't the same. These people were not quitters, though. (One of them is the boob soap person, so it really isn't a surprise that she goes hard on everything). So they got what looked like two big metal old timey tubs but which were actually animal food troughs and set them up in the garage. They set up a water heater and god knows how they emptied the tub after, I think there was hoses involved? A pump maybe? I honestly can't remember. Anyway! Voila, hydrotherapy on demand.

I was not aware of this. So when I came over after a long day and my beloved said we should take a bath I was extremely puzzled. I only knew about the one shower. They showed me the garage tubs. I did want a bath and I wasn't really sure about the setup, but honestly I'll try anything once if only for the story, so I agreed.

Fun fact about me though. I haaaate being cold. I've been 0% body fat most of my life with skin barely keeping my bones enclosed. I'm always cold. My favorite activity at the time was sitting directly in front of space heaters. My shower temperatures turn me lobster red and make my beloved cringe. Willingly dunking myself into cold water is the antipathy of my entire deal.

On the night in question I happily submerged into the warm tank, pleasantly surprised by the big silly improvised tub. Which again was meant for livestock. My knees bumped companionably against my beloved as we soaked in the hot water. After a while they rose to go into the cold water. "You don't have to," they told me.

But I was haunted. I wouldn't be doing hydro if I just stayed in the warm tub. Maybe hydro was amazing. It has all these health benefits. I desperately didn't want to but I stood up with them. We were having this nice intimate evening in the garage, just us, I felt safe. I was gonna do it.

They stepped easily into the cold tub, dunking matter of factly into the frigid water. I went to step. I did. I really really tried. My foot went in and I started shrieking, my progress arrested by the total state of shock I entered when my warm toasty foot hit that smug arctic water tension. My beloved started laughing as my pitch ascended the deeper my foot went into the cold water.

I started loudly narrating my discomfort as my foot touched the bottom and I willed my other foot up to join it. "THIS IS VERY COLD," I yelled, "IT'S SO COLD I THINK I MIGHT DIE HOW ARE YOU JUST CASUALLY SITTING IN THIS FREEZING COLD WATER?! I'M DYING- I THINK I'M DYING! I'M DYING BUT WE'RE HERE, TOGETHER! I CAN DO THIS! I CAN DO THESE EVEN THOUGH IT'S SO COLD ALL MY MOLECULES HAVE COMPRESSED INTO A SOLID STATE!"

I ended up with both feet planted in the cold tub, water up to my shins, bellowing and panting while my beloved laughed so hard they couldn't breathe. I hunkered over the cold water, squatting like a frozen gargoyle.

My beloved was trying to psyche me up while I willed my body to obey me. In a sudden jerky drop like a puppet whose strings have been cut I plummeted my body into the cold and let out a shriek that I’m sure could have shattered glass and then leapt up out of the water at a speed relative to a rocket achieving space flight. I didn’t like it.

When we got back inside my beloved's roommates were collapsed on the ground with tears in the their eyes from how hard they'd been laughing. They and probably every neighbor down the block had heard my pterodactyl screeching and narration because the garage was not remotely soundproof.

[pucksandpower]

Young Love and Old Money

Max Verstappen x Stroll!Reader

Summary: Max quickly learns that life with the paddock’s favorite nepo baby as his girlfriend is never boring

You take a deep breath as the town car pulls up to the grand arched doorway of your family’s Montreal estate. Beside you, Max squeezes your hand gently.

“Don’t worry, schatje,” he says, “Your father will love me.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so. But you know how protective he can be.”

Max grins. “I can handle it.”

The driver opens the door and you step out into the crisp night air, your heels clicking on the cobblestone. Max follows, straightening his suit jacket.

Inside, the foyer glitters with crystal chandeliers. A maid hurries to take your coats. As she leads you to the formal dining room, your heart pounds.

This dinner needs to go perfectly.

Your father and Lance are already seated at the long mahogany table, chatting. They look up as you enter and break into smiles.

“Y/N!” Your father exclaims warmly, standing to embrace you. “So wonderful to see you, mon minou.”

You hug him tightly back. “You too, Papa.”

Lance grins as he hugs you next. “Hey sis. Long time no see.”

You playfully mess up his hair. “Too long, little bro.”

Finally, you turn to Max, who is waiting patiently. “Papa, Lance, you already know my boyfriend, Max.”

Max steps forward confidently and shakes their hands. “Mr. Stroll, Lance, it’s an honor to finally meet you both properly.”

Your father looks Max up and down appraisingly. “The honor is mine, Max. Please, call me Lawrence.”

You let out a small sigh of relief as you all take your seats. So far, so good.

The first course is brought out — a decadent lobster bisque. You all sip appreciatively.

“Delicious,” Max compliments.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” your father says graciously. “Now, tell me Max, how is your season going so far?”

You tense slightly. Here it comes, the interrogation.

But Max just smiles. “It’s been excellent. A few tough races, but I’m leading the championship at the moment. The car has great pace and I think we have a shot at the title again this year.”

Lance jumps in enthusiastically. “I saw your battle with Charles last race when I was rewatching the tape. Epic stuff, man!”

“Thanks, mate,” Max chuckles. “It was a fun one for sure.”

You exhale in relief. Max is charming them perfectly.

The conversation flows easily through the next few courses. You can’t help but gaze admiringly at Max as he seamlessly meshes with your family. He has a natural confidence and charisma that puts everyone at ease.

Over dessert, your father says warmly, “Max, I can see why my Y/N cares for you. You’re clearly an exceptional young man, both on and off the track.”

Max smiles, touched. “Thank you, sir. Y/N is very special to me.” He squeezes your hand.

You beam, your heart swelling. This is going even better than you hoped.

You finish up the chocolate mousse and set down your spoon contentedly. “That was delicious. This dinner has been wonderful, thank you Papa.”

“Of course,” your father says fondly. “I’m so glad you both could make it out here from Monaco.”

“Thank you for having me,” Max adds.

“Anytime,” Lawrence smiles.

You glance around the table happily. Your boyfriend fits right in with your family. Everything feels so natural and perfect.

“Daddy, could you please pass the sugar?” You ask amiably.

Immediately, both Max and your father’s hands reach for the small pot of sugar in the center of the table. They both freeze awkwardly for a second, before Lawrence pulls his hand back slowly.

You feel your stomach drop as you see the dawning realization cross your father’s face.

Oh no.

This is bad.

Lawrence’s smile becomes forced. “So tell me Max, what exactly does my daughter call you?”

Max’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Um, just Max usually.”

You sink down in your chair, wincing.

Your father lets out a hollow laugh. “Is that so? Because it didn’t sound like that to me.”

A leaden silence descends on the table. Lance glances between you all, smothering a smirk.

Max clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, uh, that’s just a casual nickname really ...”

Lawrence raises an eyebrow. “A casual nickname you say? For my daughter to call her boyfriend in front of her family?”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to vanish. This is excruciatingly embarrassing.

“Dad, come on,” Lance snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “They’re young, it’s whatever.”

“No Lance, it’s not whatever,” your father snaps, an edge in his voice now. “I would like Max to explain himself here.”

Max holds up his hands placatingly. “Sir, I apologize if we’ve made you uncomfortable. But I assure you our relationship is completely respectful.”

You nod quickly. “Papa, he’s right. Can we please just move on?”

But Lawrence is unyielding. “I will not have anyone take liberties with my daughter, do you understand me, young man?”

Max looks properly chastened. “Yes sir, of course. I meant no offense.”

Your father bristles as he glares between you. The awkward tension hovers for several painful moments.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Papa, stop!” You blurt out. “I’m an adult now. You can’t control what I choose to do with my boyfriend.”

Lawrence looks stunned, then hurt. “Y/N, I’m just looking out for you ...”

“I know, but I don’t need protecting from Max. He’s wonderful and he makes me so happy. Can’t you let me make my own choices?”

Your father’s expression softens. He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just … so hard for me to think of you growing up.”

You reach over and squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’ll always be your little girl.”

Lawrence smiles tenderly at you, then turns to Max. “Forgive my outburst, son. I can see how much you care for each other.”

Max looks relieved. “Of course, sir. I understand completely.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Crisis averted.

Your father stands, raising his glass. “To young love. May you always treat my daughter with the honor and respect she deserves.”

“I will, sir,” Max promises earnestly.

You all clink glasses, the tension dissolving. Conversation resumes, lighter and more relaxed now.

Later, as Max helps you on with your coat, your father claps him warmly on the back. “Thank you for making my daughter so happy. You’ll always be welcome in our home.”

Max’s face lights up. “Thank you, sir. That means the world.”

Lawrence winks. “I was young once too, you know. Just maybe keep the nicknames to yourselves around me.”

You all laugh together. Your heart swells with joy. Despite the awkward moments, the evening couldn’t have gone better.

As the chauffeur drives off into the night, you snuggle contentedly into Max’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so wonderful tonight,” you whisper.

He kisses your hair. “Of course, liefje. I would do it all over again for you.”

***

The sleek red Ferrari glints under the showroom lights as you and Max admire your reflection in the gleaming curves.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Max grins, running his hand along the hood. “I can’t wait to take her out on the open road.”

You smile at his childlike enthusiasm. “She certainly is gorgeous. You have great taste, babe.”

The salesman steps forward eagerly. “Yes, the Ferrari SF90 Stradale is our newest supercar model. Twin-turbo V8, 720 horsepower. She’ll do 0 to 60 in under three seconds.”

Max’s eyes light up. “Incredible. I think I’m in love already.”

You laugh. “Should I be jealous?”

“Never,” Max winks, pulling you in for a quick kiss.

The salesman smiles indulgently. “Why don’t we step into my office to finalize the paperwork?”

“Sounds good,” Max agrees, lacing his fingers through yours as you follow the salesman.

In the sleek minimalist office, you both take a seat across from the desk as the salesman pulls up Max’s file.

“Excellent. Everything looks in order, Mr. Verstappen,” he says briskly. “If you just sign here and here, we’ll get you all set up.”

Max eagerly scrawls his signature on the documents. You watch in amusement — he reminds you of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Alright, congratulations!” The salesman stands and shakes Max’s hand. “The SF90 is all yours. We’ll have her prepped and ready for you within the hour.”

“Amazing, thanks so much,” Max grins, standing up.

You’re about to follow him out when a flash of black catches your eye. Through the office window, you spot a brand new Ferrari model on display in the showroom.

“Ooh what’s that one?” You ask curiously, gazing at the aggressive curves and styling.

The salesman glances over. “The new 812 Competizione A. It is a limited edition 599-unit production run. Just unveiled last month.”

You feel a thrill run through you as you take in the stunning hypercar. “It’s incredible. I have to have it.”

Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You want that one too?”

You turn to the salesman decisively. “I’ll take it. My family has bought from Ferrari for years, my name should be in your client database.”

“Of course, Miss Stroll,” the salesman nods, typing rapidly into his computer. “I see you right here. Let’s start the paperwork and we’ll get the car ordered for you right away.”

You grab your purse, immediately fishing out your black Centurion Card. “Just bill it to my usual card, thanks,” you say breezily, handing it over.

You can feel Max’s stunned gaze on you but you keep your focus on the salesman, reviewing the spec sheet and customization options.

This new Ferrari is just too sexy to resist.

Within minutes, the paperwork is signed and you’ve secured the very first 812 Competizione A destined to stay in Monaco. You grin excitedly — you can’t wait to get your hands on it.

“Thank you so much, just have it delivered to my place in the Fontvieille district when it’s ready,” you tell the appreciative salesman before turning to leave.

You lace your fingers through Max’s, still smiling about your new spontaneously purchased hypercar. “Ready to take your new baby out for a drive?”

Max is quiet as you walk back to the showroom, seemingly lost in thought. He stays silent as the gleaming red SF90 Stradale is pulled around, not even cracking a smile when the salesman hands over the keys with a flourish.

It’s not until you’ve been driving for several minutes, weaving along the coastal roads overlooking the Mediterranean, that Max finally speaks.

“That was 2.13 million euros,” he states flatly. “And you just ... bought it. Without a second thought.”

You glance over, taking in the unreadable expression on his face. “I mean, yeah, it’s a beautiful model. Why not just get it?” You say casually.

Max shakes his head slowly. “I just can’t wrap my head around having that kind of money. That you can just drop over two million without thinking twice.”

You shift slightly, feeling defensive. “I’m sorry, does it make you uncomfortable? I know I grew up with a very different lifestyle ...”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Max interrupts. He pauses, gazing out at the sparkling blue sea pensively.

“It’s just … I’m not used to being with someone who’s on my level. Financially, I mean. All my previous girlfriends, I always had to take care of everything. Pay for dinner, vacations, whatever they needed.”

He turns to look at you. “But you’re different. You have as much money as me, more even. You can buy a hypercar on a whim, no problem. It’s new territory.”

You chew your lip. “I don’t want you to feel emasculated or anything. If you want to pay or take care of things ...”

Max shakes his head again, more firmly this time. “That’s just it — I don’t. I like that you’re independent. It’s really ...”

He pauses, blushing slightly. “Sexy. That’s the word. It’s sexy that you have your own money and success. I’m not used to feeling that in a relationship before.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. That was not the reaction you were expecting.

Max glances at you almost shyly. “Is that weird to say? I just mean, it’s different than what I’m used to, but in a good way. Like we’re equals, you know?”

Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “No, not weird at all. I get what you mean.” You reach over and squeeze his hand. “This is new territory for me too. But I like discovering it together.”

Max’s face lights up with that radiant smile that melts your heart. “Me too, liefje.”

Your conversation flows easily as you cruise along the seaside, the setting sun glittering on the water. And seeing the look in his eyes when he glances at you now — equal parts love and admiration — you realize just how right it feels.

Being with someone who can match you in every way is new and different for both of you. But you have a feeling it’s the start of something beautiful.

***

The energy buzzing around the paddock is electric as you walk hand-in-hand with Max towards the Red Bull motorhome. Fans line the barriers, cheering and shouting his name. Max smiles and waves, slowing to sign autographs and snap selfies with outstretched phones.

You hang back politely as he interacts with his adoring public. You know the drill by now, having attended countless races with your dad and brother over the years. Blend into the background and let the drivers have their moment.

“Max! Can we get an autograph?” A young girl calls out eagerly, brandishing a cap and marker pen.

“Of course!” Max says graciously, letting go of your hand to walk over.

You hang back contentedly, happy to let him have his moment with his supporters. You catch snippets of their supportive comments as Max signs item after item, posing for selfies in between.

“You’re the greatest, Max!”

“That last win was epic. Get that fourth title this year!”

“We love you so much!”

You smile to yourself. Seeing how much joy Max brings to these fans makes your heart swell with pride and affection.

As you stand waiting patiently, you overhear the girl lean over to her friend and not-so-subtly whisper, “Who’s the chick with Max? She looks kinda stuck up if you ask me.”

Your smile freezes. You see the girl jerk her head rudely in your direction, glaring at you.

“I know right,” her friend agrees in a carrying whisper. “Another gold-digger who managed to sink her claws into a rich man too blind to see what she’s doing.”

You clench your jaw, stung by their spiteful words. Who do they think they are, judging you when they don’t even know you?

Max is still occupied with the other fans, oblivious. You debate whether to just ignore the rude girls. But their jealous gossiping has sparked your defiance. Why should you stay silent?

Squaring your shoulders, you turn and level a steady gaze at them. “For your information, I don’t need a rich man. I am a rich man,” you state coldly.

Their eyes widen in shock, mouths dropping open stupidly. Clearly they weren’t expecting you to confront them.

Before they can react, Max is suddenly beside you, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Whoa, everything okay here?” His gaze darts between you and the embarrassed fans.

You take a breath, ready to explain it away. But Max doesn’t give you the chance.

“You know, if anything, I’m the one who got my claws hooked into her,” he announces, lips curving into a smirk.

Now it’s your turn to gape at him in surprise. The nasty fans look completely bewildered.

“That’s right ladies, I’m just a kept man,” Max continues lightly. “Her arm candy. A sugar baby, if you will.”

He pretends to examine his nails arrogantly and you have to stifle a shocked laugh. Is he actually joking about being your boy toy right now?

Max leans in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, dating a Stroll has done wonders for my bank account. I mean have you seen the new and improved garage decor?”

You smother your grin behind your hand as he prattles on, winking at you.

“So don’t worry about Y/N here, she can buy and sell me twice over.” Max presses a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Isn’t that right, schatje?”

Finally you can’t hold back your laughter anymore. Max joins in and the fans stare, unsure how to react.

“Come on sugar mama, we’ve got a race to win,” Max says breezily, steering you away.

Once safely inside the garage, you turn to him incredulously. “What was that all about?”

Max shrugs, his expression sobering. “I heard what they said. Just wanted to shut them up and defend my girl.”

Your heart melts. Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him soundly. “My hero. Thank you.”

Max still looks bothered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with stupid gossip. Especially not lies about you using me.”

You slip your arms around his neck persuasively. “It usually doesn’t get to me. Let the jealous haters talk. We know the truth.”

He sighs, gently moving a strand of hair from your face. “I just hate anyone thinking badly of you. You deserve the world.”

Touched by his sincerity, you pull him down into a soft kiss. When you finally draw apart, an idea pops into your head.

“Although ...” you begin thoughtfully, “Maybe we should lean into it.”

Max looks confused. “What do you mean?”

You grin mischievously. “You’re my hot trophy boyfriend. I need to show you off and treat you right.”

Comprehension dawns on Max’s face and he barks out a laugh. “Well I won’t say no to being spoiled.”

He winks roguishly and you dissolve into giggles. The stupid gossipers don’t know anything. You and Max are just perfect together.

For the rest of the weekend, you shamelessly flaunt your new role as Max’s “sugar mommy.” At every opportunity, you shower him with over-the-top gifts and PDA in front of the other drivers and team members.

Designer watches, bouquets of flowers, bottles of decadent gin for his favorite drink — you deliver them all publicly to Max along with cooed compliments and kisses. You can see the amusement hidden behind his mock protests at being “objectified.”

The other drivers are endlessly entertained. Daniel teases Max about latching onto an heiress, while Charles jokingly asks if you have a sister he can date.

By the time Max wins on Sunday, cementing his spot at the top of the championship, the silly gossip from earlier in the weekend is long forgotten.

As you snuggle together on the flight home from the race, you turn to Max curiously. “So, how does it feel being a kept man?”

He pretends to consider it deeply. “Hmm, tough to say. The gifts and pampering were nice ...”

You swat his chest indignantly and he laughs.

“Kidding, kidding,” he assures, pulling you tighter against him. “Obviously I love you for you, not your money, schatje.”

His voice softens. “Thank you for this weekend. I know the gossip bothered you, even if you didn’t show it. I’m lucky to have you by my side.”

You tilt your face up to meet his lips, kissing him tenderly. No more words are needed. Being together says it all.

***

The roar of the crowd surrounds you as you step onto the red carpet on Max’s arm, cameras flashing wildly. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and leans in close.

“You ready for this, liefje?”

You take a deep breath and nod, pasting on a smile. “Ready.”

This is your big formal debut — attending your first FIA Prize Giving Ceremony as Max’s girlfriend. And with him just winning his fourth World Championship, all eyes are sure to be on you both tonight.

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you begin the walk down the carpet, waving politely to the fans shouting Max’s name. He looks completely at ease, his fourth-straight title boosting his confidence even higher.

You, on the other hand, feel like you might trip over your gown at any moment under the blinding spotlights. But you keep your chin high, channeling the poise that’s been drilled into you since girlhood.

Perks of growing up in high society — you know how to fake it on a red carpet.

About halfway down, an interviewer steps forward, microphone in hand. “Max Verstappen! Congratulations on your fourth championship. How are you feeling tonight?”

Max smiles easily. “Thank you, it feels amazing. It was a great battle all season long so this one feels very satisfying.”

The reporter nods, then turns her attention to you. “And who is this lovely lady accompanying you tonight?”

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Max introduces you proudly.

“Y/N, you look absolutely stunning tonight, if you don’t mind me saying,” the interviewer gushes. “That gown is exquisite!”

You relax slightly, warming to her friendly tone. “Thank you so much!” You smile.

“In fact, both of your outfits are fabulous,” she continues. “Who are you wearing tonight?”

Max’s face lights up. He squeezes your hand excitedly. “Funny you should ask — we’re both wearing custom Y/N Stroll originals!”

You have to resist the urge to giggle at the unconcealed pride in his voice.

The interviewer’s eyes widen. “No way, you designed these yourselves?”

You nod, enjoying her reaction. “I did, yeah. Fashion design is a bit of a hobby of mine.”

“A hobby she’s amazing at,” Max interjects adoringly. “She could have her own luxury brand if she wanted. I feel so honored to wear her work.”

You blush at his high praise. “Oh Max, stop. But thank you, that’s so sweet.”

The reporter seems thrilled at this exclusive scoop. “Incredible! It looks like you have some serious talent, Y/N. Any plans to pursue that more seriously?”

You hesitate briefly. Your father has been gently nudging you to take over his fashion business when he retires. But that’s still in the future ...

You decide to give a lighthearted answer. “We’ll see! Fashion does run in my family so it’s always a possibility.” You finish with a coy smile.

“How wonderful! We’ll be keeping an eye out for Y/N Stroll designs in the future then,” the reporter concludes enthusiastically.

You grin and wave as she lets you continue down the carpet, Max’s arm securely around your waist.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He murmurs in your ear.

“Not at all,” you admit. “I might get used to this whole red carpet thing after all.”

Max winks. “Stick with me and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

Your heart flutters happily. Being by his side just feels so right.

Inside the lavish venue, you’re shown to your table near the front with the other top drivers and their partners. Max pulls out your chair politely before sitting down beside you.

You chat with the other girls at the table, fellow WAGs you’ve gotten to know over the course of the season. They gush over the dress you designed, making you promise to create something for them too.

Soon, the lights dim and the ceremony begins. You clap loudly as Max wins Driver of the Year, bursting with pride for your champion.

Finally, the moment comes for the big one. The announcer begins the buildup, recapping the season’s epic title battle between Max and his closest rival.

"… And in the end, one man emerged victorious for the fourth time in his young but dazzling career,” the announcer concludes. “Formula 1 World Driver’s Champion ... Max Verstappen!”

The room explodes into thunderous applause as Max squeezes your hand and makes his way up to the stage, beaming. You watch with tears in your eyes as he accepts the trophy, looking so handsome and accomplished.

After the ceremony finishes, Max makes his way back to you, trophy in hand. You throw your arms around him. “I’m so proud of you!”

He hugs you tight, then pulls back, his expression earnest. “I couldn’t have done it without your support this season. Having you by my side means everything to me.”

Your heart swells and you kiss him tenderly. “You deserve this so much. And nothing makes me happier than being with you.”

Max’s eyes shine. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Max.”

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

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

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[rambling-at-midnight]

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader. No pronouns so can be read as any gender!

Summary: Meet-ugly with the Red Hood due to a gas station robbery gone wrong.

Word count: ~2k

(I'm branching out to other fandoms, apparently. Let me know if you want a sequel. Enjoy!)

You weren't born in Gotham, so it sometimes still surprises you that you had adjusted so well to its particular brand of crazy.

You're from somewhere a little more south of New Jersey, although most places in the U.S. are a little south of Jersey unless you're a lobster farmer from Maine or a tree hugger from Vermont.

Both of those descriptions sound critical, but they weren't meant to be. Right about now you're seriously considering taking up lobster farming.

No one sane ever moves to Gotham. Everyone knows the stories, and even if most of the country didn't believe all of them, most people aren't stupid enough to disregard them. And you certainly weren't stupid. But rent was dirt cheap for a city, and so was tuition for GU's vet school. So you thought to yourself, "How bad could it really be," bought pepper spray and a taser, and accepted the admissions offer.

You'd always liked iced coffee more than green bean casserole and peach cobbler, anyway.

Reading news articles hadn't been enough to prepare you for the utter insanity of Gotham City, unfortunately. But you adapted. You always did. Upgraded your taser, memorized the bus schedule, learned the less sketchy areas of town, did your best not to get caught outside after dark. Kept your head down, ignored the crime lords and genetic experiments gone wrong and lunatics and vigilantes scurrying along the rooftops, and you'd survived for almost two years without many incidents.

But you'd gone to the library because you were critically unable to work in your apartment, gotten distracted by panicking about how little you really knew about next week's test content, and stared at the pages of your textbook for almost an hour as you fought back tears. So now you were running late and it was dark as you walked home because the buses were down. Of course they were. That lunatic that thought he was a crocodile had smashed a bunch last week and they hadn't been replaced yet.

Goosebumps prickle on the back of your neck, but you tell yourself it's nothing. Keep your head down. Criminals target the people that look most obviously paranoid first.

You're just burnt out. Severely. But the end of your sophomore year of veterinary school was looming, which meant you would have a relaxing three-month vacation before the next one started.

And no, you weren't thinking about next year's summer 'vacation' of clinicals. Because if this year was bad after a year of summer vacation, what will it do to you to have no break at all?

That's a future you problem, thankfully.

You're still feeling sorry for yourself when you reach the gas station right next to your apartment building. You walk right by it, remember what's in your fridge or pantry—thanks, grocery store self, thinking you don't need any snacking foods—then backtrack.

Since starting vet school, you've tried to be healthier with your eating habits. Brains lacking in nutrients absorb information less efficiently, after all. But you're still a sucker for Cheez-Its and energy drinks.

You won't drink it tonight, obviously.

Right as you put the items on the counter for the bored-looking cashier to scan the barcodes, something cold presses to your temple.

The cashier freezes, eyes blown wide with panic.

"Easy there," someone says to your left. A man, voice oily in a way that sets your teeth on edge immediately. "Do what I say, or I blow their brains out, then yours."

A gun.

A gun is pressed to your head.

Because of course it is. A shitty way to end a shitty day. You should have kept walking right past the gas station.

Before you moved to Gotham, you might have screamed and panicked, but you know better now. You know to stay calm.

You clench your fists to stop them from shaking so noticeably, but otherwise don't move. You've seen hostage situations before, because this is Gotham, but you've never been the hostage.

The gun feels heavy. And so cold, like it's sapping all the heat from your skin.

"Okay, dude," the cashier said soothingly. "You want the money in the register?"

The robber scoffs. "Obviously."

"All right." The cashier's voice is even and soft, unthreatening. You wonder if training for situations like these are required for cashiers in Gotham. It certainly hadn't been for your old job, although that hadn't been in New Jersey, and it hadn't been at a twenty-four seven gas station, either. "I need to get a key to unlock it, okay? So I'm reaching below the counter."

"Just get the key," the robber demands. The gun shifts against your temple. You fantasize for a half-second about acting like an action hero, disarming him and taking him down all on your own. But you're not a vigilante and you've never been in a real-life fight before. You don't think you're fast enough to get out of the barrel's way before he pulls the trigger. If you managed to shove it away, what if he fired and hit the cashier instead?

Then comes the sound of another gun clicking.

Great, you think half-hysterically. Just what we need. Even more deadly weapons.

"Lower the gun," growls a modulated voice, and everyone freezes.

The Red Hood is standing behind the robber, also pointing a gun to his head like the meme of people lined up in a church with guns aimed at the person in front of them.

The robber lets his gun dip a little bit. Distracted enough that it's not pressed directly to your temple anymore.

Not to brag, but you recover the quickest. It's probably the adrenaline.

Thank God you keep your keychain in hand while out at night. Your fingers shake, but you have your pepper spray up in a second, and the robber's turning to look at your sudden movement when you squeeze down on the nozzle.

The spray hits him directly in the eyes, and his howl of pain is immediate. But you don't stop spraying, even when the cashier starts to splutter and your own eyes water.

The gun goes off, once in the robber's hands, and a second time when it hits the ground because he's dropped it in favor of clutching his burning face.

You stop the stream of pepper spray, because now the air is spicy when you breathe, but can't force yourself to lower your hand. The Red Hood quickly handcuffs the would-be robber, which is only difficult because he's clawing at his eyes in pain, and executes a tricky-looking martial arts move to get him on the ground.

Despite everything, you're impressed.

The Red Hood is bigger than maybe anyone you've ever seen before. He could have punched the robber in half like paper, probably, but you appreciate the finesse a little bit more.

"Hey." A gentle voice, and gentle hands, take the pepper spray out of your grip. "Quick thinking there," you're complimented. By the fucking Red Hood, one of Gotham's most infamous crime lords. The first time you read about him in the papers, he was chopping off people's heads, and every story since has been similarly alarming. But he's not supposed to be here; the Red Hood stays in Park Row, which locals call Crime Alley, apparently, and you've always steered very clear from that part of town.

"Can you look at me?"

You do. Maybe he won't chop off your head if you listen well enough.

"Are you okay?"

You blink. That... does not compute.

The Red Hood doesn't save people. And he doesn't leave Crime Alley. So what's he doing outside of Crime Alley, saving people?

The robber is still screaming, eyes screwed up in pain. He's handcuffed on the ground.

"You should probably let him wash out his eyes, at least," you tell the cashier. "Pepper spray is pretty painful." You'd sprayed yourself once out of curiosity, realized how much it burned, then sprinted to the shower to rinse it off. Which, pro tip: not a good move, especially with warm water. Water reactivates it by opening your pores, or something, and when you're in the shower it just spreads all over your body.

Your eyes are watering. The Red Hood sees that, because he tells you, "Let's get some air," and tugs you out of the gas station.

He's right. The cool night air does feel good. You blink away the stinging in your eyes and he repeats, "Are you okay?" His voice is robotic from the mask, but kind of pleasant at the same time. You'd never guess just from listening to him that he's a killer.

"Yes," you say automatically. "Thanks," you add. You're lightheaded for some reason; you sway on your feet.

"You sure?" he asks critically. "You look... pale." Judging by the pause, 'pale' wasn't the word he really wanted to say. The red helmet tilts. "You weren't shot, were you?"

"I don't think so," you shrug. Then you look down at yourself and realize that there's a large bloodstain on your hip. "Never mind. I think I was."

"Jesus!" he yelps at the sight. It's kind of funny, actually, this grown man built like a brick shithouse yelping at the sight of blood. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug and peel your sticky shirt away from the wound to inspect it. "I thought I just bumped something." Sure enough, it's just a graze. You weren't sure which shot had hit you, but you'd honestly been injured worse. Plus, supervising surgeries at the animal clinic you'd worked at for years has desensitized you to the sight of blood. Maybe it's also altered your perception on what 'serious injuries' count as; the amount of times you've been bitten by startled dogs...

"You need to go to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch," you argue. "I can't go to the hospital. I need to feed my cat."

"Your cat can wait. You're bleeding a lot."

"I'm already late, and if I miss dinner, he'll start pissing all over my apartment."

The Red Hood sighs. "Where do you live?"

Your mouth opens to answer on instinct. You snap it shut just in time and glare. "Why?"

"So I can feed your cat for you while you go to the hospital."

It's nice of him to offer, but... "No."

"No?"

Maybe it's not the best idea to refuse Gotham's most prominent crime lord, but it would also be pretty stupid to tell a strange man where you live. Especially when he happens to be said crime lord.

"Look," you sigh. "I'm a vet student. I have surgical tools at home to treat myself with, and I promise, under the blood, the bullet barely hit me. I've been hurt worse by Chihuahuas that hate the vet."

"There's no way I can convince you to change your mind?"

"It's been a long day," you sigh. "I really, really just want to go home." And he's blocking the path. Your apartment building is directly behind him, just calling your name.

"At least let me walk you to your building." He holds his hands up at your suspicious look and assures you, "I won't ask for the apartment number."

"I'm literally right there." You point.

He turns, sees how close you are to being home, and says, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were some kind of villain."

"I'm reformed," he grumbles.

"Well, good for you."

You make sure you have your keys and your wallet, then step around him and make it all the way to your building's door before he calls, "Wait!" The Red Hood's jogging to catch up to you, holding the box of Cheez-Its and energy drink you'd almost died for. "You forgot these," he says.

"Thanks," you say, taking them. It would have been a shame to waste four dollars.

"You're welcome," he says. There's something odd about his voice, but you attribute it to the mask, scan to be let into the building, and make sure it's fully closed before heading to the elevator.

Your cat is unhappy about dinner being an hour late. He weaves between your feet, making his protests loudly and viscerally known. You wince. He's worse than the dogs that bark in this building sometimes.

Your poor neighbors.

You give him his wet food, then hop in the shower to clean off your hip. It bled a lot, but once the blood washes away, it's actually not as bad as you thought. You've stitched up animals before, but never yourself, and decide against trying tonight. If it heals a little unevenly, who cares? No one will see it, anyway.

You pad the wound with gauze, tape it over, and fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling, you're forced to admit to yourself that you may be looking up more in the future. Just to see if anyone in a red helmet is running on a rooftop nearby.

It was a long day. But, strangely, almost dying wasn't the worst part of it.

Actually... it may have been the best part.

~~

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

what compels you about the Lord howe island stick insect?

its supposed extinction was such a mundane tragedy, this entire population of insects on an isolated island wiped out by the unintentional introduction of rats aboard a ship. it's a fairly common byproduct of colonization, native species being outcompeted by rivals they never should have encountered at all. you so rarely hear about insects impacted by it though, because so few people care about insects even when they're dying out completely.

except they didn't die out. they were thought to be extinct for almost a century, until in 2003 researchers confirmed a surviving population on, of all places, Ball's Pyramid, a volcanic and inhospitable spire of rock twelve miles from Lord Howe Island. not an insurmountable distance, but pretty vast if you're a flightless stick bug. how did they even get out there? no one knows. but they were there, just 24 insects who were supposed to be dead all huddling under a shrub together.

researchers took four of them back to Australia to start breeding programs. at the Melbourne Zoo they've bred them in the thousands now, and they've started contingency programs at a few other zoos worldwide. they're still considered critically endangered, at tremendous risk of extinction, but there are cautious plans to start reintroducing them to Lord Howe Island, when it can be ascertained that the island will be safe for them. there are still European rats that need to be exterminated, and a fungus threatens the plants that the stick insects rely on. there's still a population on Ball's Pyramid, but it's perilously small. their future in the wild isn't certain by any means.

but they're alive, and there are thousands more of them than there would be if no one had gone looking for them. if all the stick insects on Ball's Pyramid get sick or drown or are eaten by seagulls tomorrow, there will still be Lord Howe Island stick insects in the world, and it's all because some people decided that these bugs deserve a second chance and dedicated their entire lives to giving them one. Paige Howorth, the director of invertebrate care and conservation at the San Diego Zoo, the first zoo to successfully breed the insects outside of Australia, said this:

My most vivid memory has to be the very surreal experience of flying back to the San Diego Zoo in 2016 with 300 critically endangered Lord Howe Island stick insect eggs in my backpack.... I’ll never forget counting out the eggs with the Melbourne wildlife health and care teams, who surface-sterilized them pre-flight, so that they could come home with me with a lowered risk upon hatching. The idea that we were finally bringing this incredibly rare species back to San Diego to make their global population a little more secure made me hug that backpack closer. And yes, I did take them to the bathroom with me on the flight. (x)

whenever people start rambling about how humanity is inherently evil or selfish or whatever I think about shit like this. a woman hugging a backpack full of 300 eggs close for a 13 hour flight, just to give some bugs a chance. imagine.

they're also called tree lobsters, which I think is just rad.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfiction prompt: considering that wind can see ghosts but instead of hiding it he thinks that everyone can see them because everyone has dealt with supernatural forces

Main while the chain is freaking out because wind keeps talking to nobody and telling them that their his friends or the most unhinged statement he is enemies with the stripes guy who always stands menacingly in a corner trying to be cool (fierce deity)

And the chain starts to worry about wind badly because that is not sane behavior

While another part of the chain (particularly twilight) doesn’t take it THIS seriously because he remembers how Colin spent weeks complaining about his imaginary friend not playing with him and that children can be imaginative especially when bored and that only making him a new toy got him to play with his friend again

And that ends up in the chain thinking that wind must be incredibly bored because they walk all day and not letting him explore and play with bugs and they decided to fix it (but quickly realized that they are in the middle of a forest with nothing particularly interesting)

Wind main while has absolutely no idea what to do with the hand made toy lobster (legend definitely can sew like have you seen him and the ton of outfits he has) or the Fact that Wolfie seems particularly persistent to play fetch ..!.,?! What is going on!? (Twilight quickly realized that he is dog shaped and he also feels extremely guilty that wind is only walking with them)

But also he definitely can’t throw it away because the legend clearly put effort into the thing and he does love lobsters

And he would rather die than let the chance pass to play with Wolfie (that guy never has fun and nobody can make him play anything and the look of pure envy from Wild was totally worth it he is Wolfie's new favorite now , screw you wild)

But unfortunately that one extra toy seems to do nothing about Wind's insistence to talk with walls

And Wolfie tries really really hard to be more interesting than the walls ( he is failing because ghosts will always be more interesting )

The second they enter a town every single link with money goes to ransack the entire town for toys

And wind catches on about their concerns with his mental state and realizes that explaining them how he can see ghosts would probably confirm to them he is crazy

He awkwardly takes the toys and rearranges them in a way that every ghost is next to a toy so that the chain can stop complaining about him because now he has the excuse that he is totally talking to his toys and not any other beings or voices or walls

The chain is happy because they can almost always see him talk to the toys and play with them (the dread they feel when he keeps naming them after dead loved ones of them is something but maybe it is just a coincidence)

Then they catch him playing a game and it’s just the lobster who apparently is named after legend and the bird who he named Marin (Wind was totally only re-enacting Marin's story because he is definitely an adult and only doing the logical thing)

Time later sees him with Wild's majora’s mask (that sits with its face turned like it’s trying not to look at someone) while Wind keeps talking about a big guy with stripes on his face and how he tried to be cool when defeating the demon (war flashbacks activated because that stripes guy seems very familiar)

And legend gets an aneurysm because that lobster story strikes way to close to home for him

They take way to long to figure out in this one (they are the heroes of courage not wisdom afterall)

[tonyspank]

"CHEF'S HERE..."

Summary: "Chefs here..." a voice murmurs as you burst through the kitchen doors

Warnings: nothing really, chef y/n is giving gordon ramsay a bit

Words: 800+

A/N: hi everyone! been a while eh

"Chefs here..." a voice murmurs as you burst through the kitchen doors.

You cast a quick peek around. A dozen cooks and servers are preparing for the evening rush, and the air is humid and damp from the hot burners.

"Where's Evan?" You inquire, scouring the room for a sight of his familiar face among the pandemonium. The other cooks trade looks, displaying a mix of perplexity and fear.

Ava gestures at Evan, who is frozen in his trackers, as if he has just seen a ghost. His eyes widen, and he stares at you with his mouth open. You can watch the color drain from Evan's face as he cautiously approaches you, stuttering over his words.

Everyone in the room goes silent as they watch this unexpected meeting occur.

You rush over to him and take him by the elbow, forcing him to look at his plate, which had been returned due to the lobster being undercooked.

"What is this?" you question, pointing at the lobster. Evan moves his focus from you to the plate, his face shifting from panic to perplexity.

Everyone in the room is waiting for an explanation while he stammers, attempting to find the appropriate words to explain the situation.

"Uhhhh," Evan says, searching the kitchen for help.

"It's lobster, idiot," you snarl. "How long have you been here?" "Why do I have to deal with your messes all the time?"

Evan's face flushes with shame. "I... uh..."

"Don't say anything!" You cut him off with a snap.

He looks at you, perplexed.

"I break my fucking foot working my ass off in this restaurant, and the one day I need you to be on your A-game, of course you disappoint." Evan averts his gaze, his shoulders hunching.

Holding the lobster tail in front of his face, you seize it. "Apologize."

Evan's lips move in and out of uncertainty over how to reply. You snarl, "I said, apologize."

He glances at the lobster for a moment, then back at you, his expression bewildered.

"I'm... sorry?"

You turn to face the rest of the kitchen and aggressively toss the lobster in the garbage. "Someone, get me a fucking apron... now!"

You swiftly tie an apron around your waist after a server approaches you with one. Realizing that the other employees have seen your outburst, you observe them exchanging anxious glances as you make ready to return to work.

Taking a deep breath, you attempt to gather yourself and concentrate on the task at hand.

"Alright, everyone, listen up! It's time to turn this day around!" You say this, clapping your hands together.

The kitchen is silent, and the staff stands still, looking between you and Evan.

"Now," you point at the food on the stove, "someone give me a lobster; I'll prepare it myself."

No one moves.

"Well?" You demand, "We don't have all night! The dining room is packed, and we have tables that are waiting!"

At this point, the staff jumps into action, and the kitchen comes alive.

"Yes, Chef," someone mutters and hands you a plate with a lobster tail.

Within a couple of minutes, you're walking back out of the kitchen, your hair tied up and an apron wrapped around your waist, walking in the direction of the table that had originally ordered the lobster.

"Hi there, I'm so sorry about the delay. Can I offer you something on the house to compensate?" You ask, approaching the table, smiling apologetically, trying to mask the anger that is still coursing through you.

The brunette finally looks up, meeting your gaze. You immediately recognize those brown eyes.

"Y/N?" She asks, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, Jenna." You say, letting out a small laugh. "What— what are you doing here? I thought you were in New York."

"Well, I wanted to surprise you." She laughs, shaking her head. "And what about you? I thought I told you to rest your foot."

You run a hand through your hair and mutter, "Baise-moi... (Fuck me...) Uh... it's a long story,"

With a lighthearted smile pulling at the corner of her lips, Jenna raises an eyebrow. Oh, gosh. She leans in closer and adds, "Well, I have all the time in the world to hear it."

You give your girlfriend a sidelong glance while sulking. "It's not that serious, baby. The boot helps a lot."

She sighs slightly and rolls her eyes. "You should be at home, resting."

"I'm fine." You sigh and cross your arms.

Jenna tilts her head, purses her lips, and raises her eyebrows.

"I swear, baby."

"Well, as much as I like the fact that you're here, I don't like the idea of you hurting yourself. Especially after how hard you worked."

You grin and nod slightly. "In any case, try the lobster. "Made by yours truly."

"Of course. Thank you, darling."

You nod and walk back to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of Jenna digging into the food you cooked.

"How'd it go?" Evan asks.

"It's my girlfriend," you tell him, untying the apron and setting it aside.

"What? The blonde one?"

"No, not the blonde one."

"The brunette one? Jenna Ortega?!"

You roll your eyes, grab your jacket and slip it on.

"Yeah, Evan, the brunette one," you say, pushing open the doors and making your way towards the exit.

"Oh."

[simplyholl]

Fireworks

Summary: Loki uses an illusion while you have fun during a fireworks show.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

See My Masterlist Here

“We can’t, not here.” You protest, trying to talk some sense into your fuck buddy, Loki. “No one will miss us.” He tempts you, raising a suggestive eyebrow. You can’t resist him, it was like trying to hold your breath. Eventually you would give in, needing him more than you ever thought possible.

The Fourth of July was usually reserved for barbecues and pool days, but this year Tony wanted to throw a lavish dinner party to impress some higher ups who still had their doubts about the Avengers. So here you were, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes wearing stuffy suits and elegant gowns eating prime rib and lobster instead of wearing swimsuits and stuffing your faces with hotdogs.

You all had been warned to be on your best behavior, especially Loki and Thor whose Asgardian liquor often times made them and everyone they shared it with bad decision makers. You wished you could blame the alcohol when you took Loki’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dining hall while everyone started to gather outside for fireworks. But you didn’t drink anything except for water. You didn’t have an excuse, momentarily dickmatized, you went willingly.

“Nope. Not tonight, get your asses back here right now.” Tony stops you, pointing to the wrap around porch the others were gathering on. You sigh, giving your best puppy dog eyes to him, hoping it would work. If anyone understood the importance of getting off, it was Tony.

“Don’t give me that look. If we didn’t have the very people who could shut us down in attendance, I would even cover for you. But we have to make it seem like we are the best people they know.” Tony explains, adjusting the collar on his dress shirt nervously.

Loki turns, following him out, never letting go of your hand. Once Tony does a headcount, Loki brings you to the darkest corner of the porch. A flash of green passes by so quickly, you’re sure you imagined it. But this is Loki, and he was always up to something.

“What are you doing?” You whisper so no one can hear you. One of the old men look in your direction, you fake a smile and wave at him until he takes his attention off you. In the distance Mr. USA himself, Steve Rogers sets off the first firework. An explosion of red lighting up the sky.

“Do you trust me?” Loki whispers in your ear. “Yes, but now’s not the time to live up to your namesake, Mischief.” You answer, eyes narrowing suspiciously. You would both be in big trouble, possibly kicked off the team if you did anything to portray the Avengers in a negative way tonight. “To everyone else, it looks like we are enjoying the fireworks. They can’t see what we are really doing.”

He leans down to gently kiss your shoulder, long fingers sliding your dress straps down your arms exposing your breasts. You gasp, trying to cover yourself. The nosy old man from earlier looks over at you, but doesn’t notice your uncovered body. He looks away as another firework illuminates the darkness.

“I would never let them look at you like this.” He purrs. His rich voice washing away any doubt you had. He nuzzles his head to your chest, his fingers lightly pinching your nipples. You moan, and Natasha turns, looking at you questioningly. “They can’t see what we are doing, darling, but they can hear us.”

“Loki, we have to stop.” He instantly goes still. “What’s wrong?” You rub his cheek to reassure him. “I can’t be quiet. They will hear us.” You can see the gears turning in his head, his eyes lighting up when he gets an idea.

Loki drops to his knees, large hands sliding up your thighs until he reaches your panties. He works them down your legs as you watch in anticipation. He wads them up, his obscenely big hand covering them completely as he brings them to your face. His thumb taps your bottom lip, beckoning it open. When your mouth forms an O, Loki places your panties inside. “There that should muffle any sound you make.”

You watch in disbelief, turned on by his antics. You feel the unmistakable warmth of your arousal drip down your thighs. Loki lifts your gown, settling on his knees once again. He places your leg over his shoulder, your fingers tangle in his curls as he dives in.

His talented tongue swirls your clit before dipping inside you. He thrusts his tongue, while the tip of his nose rubs against your most sensitive part. You shudder, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

Loki takes your clit between his lips, sucking gently as his tongue flicks in unison. Your legs tremble as his soft licks grow firmer. You groan, your panties keeping the sound from reaching the ears of the others. But Loki hears it, he loves that you will do anything for him.

You’re typically a rule follower, always early for your appointments, avoiding trouble at any cost. Until he showed up, he turned your world upside down. You would never consider letting someone eat you out in front of company, depending on him to use his magic to conceal you. You would never trust anyone else like him. He supposed that was what he liked the most. You trust him completely.

He strokes you with his velvet tongue once more, adding two fingers. The intrusion sends you spiraling. Fireworks exploding behind your closed eyelids mirroring what was happening around you. You bite down on your panties, fighting every primal urge to scream Loki’s name.

Loki turns you around, pressing you against the building. He quickly slides his pants down, reaching below to gather your dress, bunching it up on your side. His large hands run along the curve of your backside, giving it a squeeze. He parts your legs with his own, positioning himself.

He bottoms out in one thrust, you moan loudly, praying the panties will do their intended job. You always feel so full, so complete when you have sex with Loki. No one could ever compare. He slides his hand between you, thumb working your clit as you clench around him.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other is unmistakable. You can’t be bothered to worry about it when he rearranges your guts like this. You’ll feel it all night and tomorrow. You always do. Your side will ache, too sore to bend over. It was a delicious reminder of him.

The finale of the fireworks coincided with your orgasm. You were thankful for the noise of the pyrotechnics. Every drag of his cock made you scream as you came around him. He was close behind, spilling inside you as your visitors clapped when the show was over.

Loki turns you around, retrieving your panties from your mouth and using them to wipe away the mess he made of you. He kisses your shoulder before pulling your dress straps back where they belong. You extend your hand reaching for your panties, but he shakes his head placing them in his pocket instead.

Another flicker of green surrounds you, dropping the illusion. Loki motions to your hair, letting you know you have more than a few tresses out of place. You’re smoothing your hair down as Natasha comes over, a knowing smirk on her full lips. “It sounded like you two were doing more clapping than our visitors over there.” She says, laughing as she walks away.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @mushycore @marygoddessofmischief @queenshu @jasmine-pudding @kcd15 @jiyascepter @daddieslut1 @macnbriee @sammichdog

[808airsoftbros]

Tight Pants Pt.II (Kim Sohee/Giselle/Karina) (BXG) (S)

Author: Part II of my original Tight Pants smut oneshot. Hope you enjoy it and if you want to check out my Masterlist for more oneshots :)

Y/N's POV

"Ah~. Come on, Y/N, can you please just go out with me for once~?" Sohee-Noona bugged and I groaned.

For the last ten minutes, I was in the middle of a gaming session with the boys, it was all going peaceful and well until my Noona barged into my room uninvited and won't stop begging me to come hangout with her friends.

Despite my efforts to focus on the game and ignore her obnoxious antics, she takes off my headset and steals my controller.

"Hey! Give that back!" I demanded and she smiled.

"Only if you agree to hangout with me~," She replied and I sighed.

"Promise?" I hesitantly asked.

"Promise," She answered after nodding.

She hands me back the controller and headset before throwing me one of my outfits and telling me to put it on.

Changing into the clothes that Sohee-Noona gave me, I went down the stairs and she took my head leading me into her expensive ass mercedes benz AMG.

Did I forget to mention that she's an idol? That's why she can afford all the luxury products she wants and my closet is full of Gucci and Louis Vuitton clothes that she gifted me in the past.

Anyway, she drives me over to wherever the meeting location is, which is a fancy restaurant.

"We're here, little bro," She nudged.

We get out of the car, and there were too other girls waving at us and I assumed it was Sohee's friends.

"Hey, Sohee~!" One of them greeted.

"Sup, Rina! How have you been~?" Sohee greeted and they hugged each other.

"Eh, nothing much," She answered and her other friend eyed me.

"Is this your step bro that you mentioned?" She asked and she nodded.

"Yep, this is Kim Y/N, my step brother," Sohee answered and she nodded.

"I see, well, Y/N, my name is Giselle and this here is Karina. It's nice to finally see you~," Giselle introduced herself and I chuckled.

Sohee locked arms with me, I followed her lead into the restaurant, and we checked in with the waiter. He leads us into a private dining room full of fancy silverware and plates.

"Please have a seat, ladies," The waiter insisted.

I sat across from Giselle with Karina sitting next to her and I sat next to Sohee-Noona. The waiter pours water into our glasses.

"I'll give you all time to decide what you wish to order," He said before leaving the room.

Looking through the menu, the prices were ridiculously expensive with steak and lobster being over $50 each but I knew it wouldn't even put a dent on Sohee's account.

"I think I want to try the salmon," Karina mentioned.

"Mind as well get the salmon too," Giselle replied.

Examining the seafood selections I felt something rubbing my ankle and I looked down to see it was Karina responsible. I peeked over the menu and she was acting all natural.

Rolling my eyes, I decide I'll go with the medium-rare wagyu steak, and Sohee-Noona goes with the lobster tails.

"So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?" Giselle curiously asked.

"Uhm, for now, college," I answered.

"Ah, what are you studying?" She asked.

"Engineering," I simply replied and she nodded.

Still feeling the sensation of Karina's bare feet rubbing on my feet, I felt her move up to my leg and my thigh making me nervous.

Sohee-Noona gave me a look of concern and asked what was wrong but I asssured everything was fine and Karina was still playing the innocent one.

"Do you have a girlfriend by any chance~?" Karina asked and I shook my head.

"No, not interested in finding one yet," I answered and she smiled.

"I see, well, I'm always available if you're interested," She teasingly suggested and I blushed making her giggle.

It didn't help that Karina was starting to spice things up, she moved her foot to my crotch and I grinned resisting her temptations.

Thankfully, they didn't pay any mind to me as the waiter comes in to write down our orders. Once we finished making our orders he exits the room and I sighed in relief.

"I must say, bestie, your little bro is cute~," Giselle butted in.

"I know right~?" Sohee replied before ruffling my hair.

"Aish, stop it Noona!" I annoyingly said and pushed her hand off my head.

"Awww~. Look at the cutie~," Giselle teased.

Excusing myself to go to the restroom, Sohee grabbed my hand asking if I needed help but I refused her offer. I walked out the room, easily found the restroom.

Right when I was about to enter the bathroom, my hand was grabbed and I was forced into the woman's bathroom.

Before I could figure out who snatched me, a finger was placed on my lips telling me to keep quiet and I was shocked to see it was Karina who had a smirk plastered on her face.

"W-What are you doing...?" I nervously asked.

Without saying a word, she drags me into an empty stall, locks the door, and gets on her knees rubbing my dick.

"Oh, baby boy~. You've had my attention the moment I've laid eyes on you and you know how idols always get what they want... Right?" She asked and I nodded.

"Well, do you know what I want right now~?" She seductively asked and I gulped as she came up to my ear before whispering... "You,"

Before I knew it, she unbuckles my belt, pulls down my pants and underwear revealing my monsterous cock making her drool at the size.

"Good, I never knew you had such a big cock, baby~," She moaned before jerking it off slowly.

Flinching at her delicate touch, my cock hardens and grows and she eventually takes it into her warm mouth and I moaned.

Bobbing up and down, I was nervous that someone could walk in here and catch us.

"N-Noona, what if someone catches us?" I asked and she takes my cock out of my mouth.

"You let me worry about that~," She answered before going back to blow me.

She kept going for the next ten minutes and I couldn't resist to cum inside her mouth and she swallowed every bit of it with delight.

"Mmmm~. So tasty~. Mommy will have more of you later~," She said before helping me put my pants back up.

We quietly come out of the bathroom, rejoin the others at the dining room and they wondered what took us so long? Karina lied saying that she came to check on me and had a little accident.

As embarrassing as it is, they bought it, and the waiter comes in with a tray of mouth watering dishes.

The food was the best I've ever tasted in my life, the steak was juicy and tender, and my Noona's enjoyred their food as much as I did.

After we finished eating, my Noona's paid the pill and left the waiter a generous tip before leaving the restuarant.

Looking up at the sky, it was cloudy as hell meaning it was gonna rain soon-

Well I spoke too soon didn't I? Out of nowhere, the rain came pouring in and everyone immediately seeked shelter in the restuarant, took out their umbrellas, and rushed to their cars.

Unfortunately, I had nothing to protect me from the rain and in no time I was soaking wet. I've never in my life felt so miserable. My socks were wet. My feet are wet.

"Omo~. Come on, let's go~!" Sohee-Noona said and we rushed back to the car.

Karina and Giselle ran back to their respective sports cars and we met up at Aespa's dorm. Since Winter and Ningning are away visiting friends and family, it would be just us four.

We hurried back to their dorm, I was soaking wet, I was cold as shit and felt like I bathed in snow fully naked.

We entered their dorm, Karina guides me to the bathroom and Giselle places a spare change of clothes on the counter.

"Mind giving me some privacy Noona?" I asked and she gave me a devious smirk.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" She asked and I shook my head.

"No, Noona, I'm fine," I assured and she pouted before leaving me alone.

Taking off my drenched clothes, I hop inside the shower, turn the knob for the warm water. Feeling the water flowing through my skin felt euphoric as ever and the coldess immediately faded away.

However, I cannot help but feel as if I'm being watched, I looked out the shower glass and I was surprised to see someone's phone camera recording me.

"Yah! What the hell?!" I called out and whoever it was ran off.

I could only guess it was one of my Noona's trying to get a peak at me and use the footage to rub their pussies later.

Anyway, I finished taking my shower, I put on the spare change of clothes but they were tight as shit as they were made for girls and it didn't help that the sweatpants were showing my bulge.

Thinking of a way to cover it up, I grabbed one of the towels on the rack, warpped it around me. I looked rediculous but it was only for one night.

I walk down the stairs, I got lots of looks from the girls wondering why I was still wearing a towel around my waist.

"Uhm, Y/N, is the pants I gave you too small?" Giselle asked.

"Huh? Oh, it's fine," I answered with a reassuring smile.

"Okay then...?" She awkwardly muttered before going back to watch her shows.

Looks like they bought it for now... I sit on the couch along with Sohee-Noona and she wraps her arm around my neck. Slowly pulling my head to lay her shoulder.

"Noona when can we leave?" I quietly asked.

"As soon as the storm passes," She answered and I nodded.

While finding peace and solace laying on Sohee-Noona's shoulder, I felt a tug on the towel and I opened my eyes seeing Karina with a rather curious look on her face.

"Yah, Noona what are you doing?" I asked and she gave me a skeptical look.

"What's the towel for?" She asked and I gulped.

Suddenly, the show began playing an errotic scene making me slightly erected. Giselle was all too focus on the show and Sohee-Noona was fast asleep while Karina went on the assault on my pants.

I signalled her to stop but she didn't take the hint so I quietly tried to get her hands off the towel.

"I just want a look!" She quietly said and I shook my head.

"What is going on...?" Sohee-Noona asked before yawning and when saw what was going on.

"Yah! Rina! What are you doing?!" She angrily asked and Karina-Noona huffed.

"I just want to know why Y/N's wearing a towel for..." She answered before crossing her arms.

Then Giselle turned her attention toward us, she asked what was wrong and I explained the situation. She rolled her eyes in amusement and demanded to take my towel off.

At first, I refused but I didn't have a say as Giselle forcefully took the towel away from my waist and their jaws dropped seeing the massive bulge in my tight sweatpants.

"Now what do we have here...?" Giselle asked as she examined my dick poking out my sweatpants.

"U-Uhhhh..." I muttered as I was too flustered to say anything.

Sohee-Noona smirked and nodded to the others, Giselle and Karina nodded back with an devious smile. It was obvious they were up to something.

"W-What's going on?" I nervously asked and they giggled.

"Oh, you're so silly you know that~? We planned this whole thing all along~," Karina answered and my eyes widened.

"W-What?!" I exclaimed.

"You weren't exactly paying attention to the weather forecast so we planned this hangout. We knew you'd be drenched in no time so we figured it'd be convenient to bring you to our dorm," Giselle explained and I was speechless.

"N-Noona? Why?" I asked and she giggled.

"Remember that lost bet a while back? If you don't get a girlfriend by this year, will take you ourselves," She asked and I nodded.

"Y-Yes, but I thought you all were just joking!" I replied and they laughed.

"Oh, you innocent child, you should know better that we don't play around with such things. Now you belong to us~," Sohee-Noona whispered the last part sending chills down my spine.

I was pinned to the bed with Giselle and Sohee-Noona holding my arms down, my pants along with my underwear were pulled down revealing my ten inch monter cock.

"So yummy and delicate, what a beautiful cock your little baby has~," Giselle admired.

"I know~," Sohee-Noona replied before licking her lips.

"We're going to make sure your balls are drained tonight~," Giselle whispered in my ear.

Not wasting a moment, Karina and Giselle switched places, she takes my cock in her warm mouth, and she was tighter than Karina's mouth and it felt amazing.

"Does her mouth feel good baby~," Karina asked and I viciously nodded.

Giselle encouraged by my words of compelation, she bobs her head faster and I moaned loader before Karina shuts me up placing her lips onto mine.

Slipping her tongue inside of my mouth, I easily lost the battle for domination as she was more experienced than I am. My mind was also occupied being sucked off by Giselle and I was starting to edge.

"I-I'm going to cum!" I warned and but she kept going so I came in her mouth.

"Mmm~. What a delicious treat that was~," Giselle moaned out after licking her lips after eating a scrumptious meal.

"Let's get into the main show now~. I already tasted my little brother a many times before, am I right~?" She sedutively asked and I slowly nodded.

Yep, Sohee-Noona and I did do it sometimes whenever she felt horny besides we're not even blood related and I didn't have a say in anything.

"Alrighty then," Giselle replied before stripping naked revealing her delicate and thicc figure.

"Let's not keep our baby waiting then~," Karina said before also stripping naked and I drool at her massive tits.

"Aww~. Is my baby boo a tit guy~?" She teasingly asked and I nervously nodded.

"There's no need to be ashamed in that~," Sohee-Noona assured before taking off her clothes.

To my surprise all together, they did their best to wrap their boobs around my dick and it was the most amazing feeling ever. My mind and body was going to be broken if these sexy girls made me came.

My dick drowning in these girls titties and it didn't take long for me to squirt out my cum all over their bodies and faces.

"Wow, you came a lot for us, baby~. You must really love our tits~," Giselle pointed out.

Exhausted out, I panted to catch my breath as these girls were made me go through nothing but pure ecstasy and pleasure but they were far from done with me.

Without warning, Karina slams her pussy onto my dick making me yelp and she began riding me like an angry bull.

"Oh fuck yes~!" She screamed while riding me and I loudly moan.

Then, I was smothered by Sohee-Noona's and Giselle's tits forcing me to suck them and play with them at the same time. I tried my best to multi-task between the three ladies.

"Mmm~. You're doing such a good job, baby~," Sohee-Noona complemented before moaning.

About ten minutes in, Karina was already close to cumming and I put my hands on her hips to thrust into her and she squirted all over my dick.

"That was great..." Karina muttered before climbing off.

"Me next~!" Giselle announced and inserts my cock into her pussy.

Hardly believing how tight as hell she was, I clenched my face as she slowly began riding me. Giselle could only scream out of pleasure as she picked up the pace.

I was about to cum deep inside of her womb until she squirted all over my dick making me nearly blue ball.

"Well now, guess those two weren't enough, and you were edged twice, right?" Sohee-Noona asked and I nodded.

"Hehe~. Allow me to help you with that~," She said and got on all fours. She lightly shakes her plum ass signalling me to fuck her and I did so with delight.

Going in and out as fast and hard as I can, Sohee-Noona kept moaning out my name and I gave her ass a few spankings making her yelp.

I grabbed her tits and played with it adding to the pleasure as I pounded the living daylights out of her.

"H-How... Ah! C-Close?" She stuttered.

"Very close, Noona!" I warned.

"Then fuck me like it's the last thing you'll ever do on this planet! Breed me!" She demanded.

Giving into her demands, I picked up the pace and went slammed my dick into her in and out making her a moaning mess. About ten seconds later, we came at the same time and I sighed in relief as my balls are now drained.

I collapsed onto the couch, I could barely feel my hip or my legs or even my cock. Then, the three sexy girls slowly climbed up and hurdled up to me.

"You were amazing, baby~," Giselle said before pecking my cheek.

"We should do this everyday~," Karina suggested and pecked my other cheek.

"If you ever feel fustrated, horny, or needy, just ask one of us and will be more than happy to help you as long as you help us," Sohee-Noona said and I thanked her before pecking her lips.

Right after that stormy night, my life changed 360 with mostly pleasing the girl's needs. We did it in the changing room, the bathrooms, our cars, and hell even in public places when no one is looking.

But all I cared about was that I could be with them and grateful that I have such graceful and beautiful girls to look after me.

[whichcouldmeannothing]

big big marvey fic rec list

marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!

fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you

MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES

A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)

“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’” In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.

"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."

i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)

of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)

Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand. In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross. Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.

"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."

this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE

5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)

Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…

i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)

fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)

needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)

When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract. He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.

this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS

Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)

After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue. Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.

BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)

The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)

Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games. Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive. Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.

"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."

I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul

Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)

"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?" "I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."

reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me

Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)

In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...

i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh

Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)

Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.

this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)

afternoon reads (10k+)

Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)

Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade. “Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.

“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.

“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.

cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh

Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)

When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]

I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!

quick reads (1k+)

This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)

She should have known. She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this. Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him. So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.

RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much

an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)

Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time. Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”

this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)

Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)

Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.

"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.

IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh

Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)

When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them. His heart would like to object.

BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)

Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)

Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.

this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1

One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)

Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart. Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.

HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!

also pspspsps

golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)

Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted. Mike is poetry, to Harvey. - Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down. And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet. Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.

yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth

there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3

^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3

[violenteconomics]

For thr vacation fund au and rsa exchange program thingy majigy au, please hear me out hear me out-

Imagine tge first years come back to nrc (or not idk) and then for their vacation fund they make a host club or rent-a-date (rent-a-friend for ortho or smth)

Like ramshackle is their hq and ljke what you said they originally became famous bc of the poster with bad marker quality, several malleus stickers and deuce's thirst trap photo, but the customers do find other favorites besides deuce (but hes still the most popular- like tamaki but he has no idea what hes doing lol)

And then the rsa LI hearing abt this (either from gossip or soxial media you do yiu) and then they become regulars at the nrc first years host club

(Then the seniors catxhing wind of this dear Lord may they have mercy on the rsa students)

anything 4 u, baby.

PFFFFFT-- O M G YASSSS COMBINING THE RSA TRIP WITH THE VACATION FUND IS GENIUS, THIS IS THE SPIN OFF WHERE THE FIRST-YEARS START NRC'S FIRST HOST CLUB TO PAY FOR THEIR VACATION!!! the idea that the shitty poster still makes people endlessly thirsty is so funny to me lol.

deuce is the kind, understanding date, who has a big heart but can also protect you if need be. he's literally a dreamboat come to life. the only downside is that the client has to plan their dates -- otherwise, deuce might actually take them to an egg farm, lol.

ace is the quote unquote "fun" one, who is down to literally anything as long as it's entertaining enough. polar opposite of deuce, in that he's GREAT at date-planning, and he's the second-highest in terms of ratings.

epel and yuu are a "double date" sort of deal, where yuu's simple charm and understanding personality contrasts very greatly with epel's more "rough-and-tumble" approach to life. epel is THIS close to cursing out the waitress for giving you lobster in your meal even though you specifically asked them not to because your allergic, meanwhile yuu keeps epel from making a scene (but is simultaneously calling in a favor from azul to sue this place to the ground, lol).

i honestly can't imagine sebek or jack ever agreeing to do this, but if they were somehow blackmailed into it (or drawn to the compel of more money to put into their vacation fund), it would be the most tsundere thing in existence--

AND ORTHO HAS HIS OWN LITTLE "RENT-A-FRIEND" BOOTH IN THE CORNER AHHHHHHH (he's basically taken over yuu's position as the therapist friend, fr fr)

AND THE RSA LIS HEARING ABOUT THIS MMMMMMMM. i mean, most of them are royalty, so they have enough money to basically monopolize all of the first-years' time. and the freshmen kind of actually like going out with the LIs more than anybody else, just because they know them better than random nrc strangers.)

(of course, the seniors are still stalking them from the bushes, fire spells and knives prepared in case they need them.)

(ace wipes some ice cream off song's face, and riddle has to be held down by both vil and malleus to keep him from decapitating the both of them right then and there for their indecency)

[wifelinkmtg]

Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia

There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. - Lewis Carroll, “The Lobster Quadrille,”

ONE.

There is a moment early in H.P. Lovecraft’s 1931 novella The Shadow over Innsmouth where the nameless narrator looks out from the rotting seaside hamlet where he has lucklessly ventured, to the so-called Devil Reef some ways out in the harbor, darkened by a cloud of evil rumor—and something curious happens: the narrator experiences two opposed sensations simultaneously. The “long, black line” of the reef conveys “a suggestion of odd latent malignancy,” but also, “a subtle, curious sense of beckoning seemed superadded to the grim repulsion.” This bit of foreshadowing—the reef both calling and repelling the narrator—only finds its denouement at the very end of the story, after our narrator has narrowly escaped Innsmouth, the fish-like monsters who swarm in off of Devil Reef and their part-human descendants who inhabit the town in an unconvincing and repellent simulacrum of humanity. After his escape, the narrator does some genealogical research into his own troubled family history, full of disappearances and suicides, and concludes that he himself is one such abyssal hybrid. As he ages, he finds himself changing to resemble them, and in his dreams he swims among them in undersea palaces and gardens. The call of the deep becomes impossible to ignore:

So far I have not shot myself as my uncle Douglas did. I bought an automatic and almost took the step, but certain dreams deterred me. The tense extremes of horror are lessening, and I feel queerly drawn toward the unknown sea-deeps instead of fearing them. I hear and do strange things in sleep, and awake with a kind of exaltation instead of terror.

In the end, the narrator embraces the change and determines to flee to those oceanic depths, to live “amidst wonder and glory for ever.”

This is horror.

Something curious also happens in Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel The Haunting of Hill House. Our heroine, Eleanor Vance, flees an unhappy life with a loveless sister to a haunted house, to take part in a paranormal experiment with three new friends. The haunting proceeds predictably but effectively: labyrinthine corridors, voices, unearthly cold, banging on doors, the rare apparition. The participants find themselves see-sawing between increasing night-time terror and a strangely intense joie de vivre by day, until one night, as the house seems to shake itself down upon its terrified guests in a dizzying cataclysm, Eleanor breaks:

She heard the laughter over all, coming thin and lunatic, rising in its little crazy tune, and thought, No; it is over for me. It is too much, she thought, I will relinquish my possession of this self of mine, abdicate, give over willingly what I never wanted at all; whatever it wants of me it can have.

By the next line, it is abruptly morning. The terror has ceased; the house stands. Its manifestations, for Eleanor, become benign: an unseen figure catches her beside a brook,

and she was held tight and safe. It is not cold at all, she thought, it is not cold at all.

She is through the horror now, on the other side of something. She becomes part of the haunting. Her senses encompass the whole of the house. She runs unafraid through the house by night, banging on doors, laughing as she eludes the other guests. When they finally catch up to her, it seems clear to them that Hill House has crept into her, that she has crossed some line, and they decide the best course of action is to send her away, in the hopes that with time she will return to this side, the normal side, the human side.

Instead, faced with rejection behind her and her old unhappy life before her, Eleanor Vance steers her car into a tree. There are holes which admit passage in only one direction. This, too, is horror.

In the 2018 film Annihilation, Lena (played by Natalie Portman) crosses a literal barrier called the Shimmer into a dangerous yet beautiful alien landscape full of mutated creatures. During their journey deeper into this territory, Lena and her companions realize that they themselves are also changing under the alien influence. Some break under the realization. Some surrender to the change and vanish into the landscape. Lena alone returns from the heart of the phenomenon, but she is no longer herself. Is this still horror? The film has many horror elements to it, but in this last moment, as she embraces her similarly-transformed husband, it is something else.

Cyberqueen, a 2012 text game created by Porpentine, draws on a legacy of godlike malevolent artificial intelligences in fiction (AM, from Harlan Ellison’s “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream,” GladOS from the Portal games, and most importantly SHODAN from the System Shock series, who is cited as an inspiration eleven times in the Cyberqueen acknowledgements.) In this game, you awake from cryosleep on a colony spaceship where the shipboard AI has gone rogue. You fight her. You lose. You run. You are caught. You are forcibly cyberized, your mind surgically altered, your will brought into line with that of the AI. Finally, you kill or mutilate every other surviving human aboard the ship. It is filthily, overwhelmingly erotic throughout. (You can play it here, and I strongly recommend doing so if you have the stomach for it.)

This is no longer horror, is it? How can the same sort of transformation we encounter as horror in Lovecraft be encountered here as something to get off to? Well,

TWO.

I don’t remember now where I got the idea from, but there was a period in my childhood where I was terrified of the idea of time travel—specifically of the idea that someone in the future would invent it, travel to before I was born, and through the butterfly effect cause me to be born a girl instead. I used to lie awake at night circling the idea like a broken tooth. It was an irrational fear on multiple levels: I wasn’t afraid of being written out of the timeline through time travel, and I knew, intellectually, that in the timeline where I was born a girl I would have no memory of ever having been anything else, but even so, the horror of it caught me and held me by the throat.

This meant something, of course—in retrospect obvious, but at the time literally unimaginable, and it wasn’t until college, sitting at my computer in the dark in my dorm room at three in the morning, following the itching in my brain, that I unearthed alchemical knowledge: the transmutation of sex, male into female, in a dizzying profusion of form and process and—okay what I’m saying is I discovered forced feminization porn, yeah? It was revelatory. It was squalid. I was still Christian and couldn’t even bring myself to jerk off yet, so I sat there, the itch in my brain grown into a thunderous buzz, unable or unwilling to look away.

Forced feminization—I promise this is relevant—is the unwilling transformation of (usually) a man into (usually) a hyper-feminine woman, accomplished by a wide variety of means, including but not limited to blackmail, magic potions, nanite swarms, cursed artifacts, hacks or glitches in virtual reality programs, badly-worded wishes, industrial accidents, chemical leaks, abduction and surgery, medical malpractice, and hypnosis. You may notice that many if not all of these scenarios could be made into horror with little change, and in fact it is not uncommon for a poorly-written or over-ambitious forced-fem story to wind up as horror by accident (though of course this greatly depends on the tastes of the individual reader.)

(As an aside, I’d like to note that there is a great deal to learn from porn—not in terms of How to Do Sex, but about how the culture which produced it thinks about sex, and gender, and race and morality and technology and a host of other things. It’s a lot like popping the hood of a car and examining the engine. Sure, you wind up greasy and should probably wash your hands before you rejoin polite company, but if you don’t, you’ll never figure out the underlying issues. Actually, it’s a lot like horror in that regard.)

Let’s talk about a very different transformation I was undergoing at the same time: the loss of my faith. I was raised, as mentioned, very Christian—and in one of the worst strains of fundamentalist white American Evangelicalism. I was a true believer: the world for me was entirely divided between the faithful elect and the unbelievers, who must necessarily know the truth of the (fundamentalist white American Evangelical) gospel in their hearts, but had wilfully chosen to oppose Christ. The prospect of passing from the elect into the category of the unbeliever was unthinkable. The process of deconversion led only into the outer darkness and the weeping and gnashing of teeth.

And yet I found myself on that precipice anyway. The worldview of FWAE is not one which survives too much contact with the actual world, and I had chosen against my parents’ preferences to go to a secular university, the better to witness to the unsaved. In the end, the process I had been mortally afraid of consisted of a couple days’ agonized thought, unanswered prayer and tearful calls to my unresponsive parents and pastor, after which I emerged into a world much bigger and much more complex than the one I’d grown up in. The serpent had told the truth after all: I had eaten of the fruit, and had not died.

Okay: is this horror? Reader, forgive me for presupposing anything about your perspective, but you’re on a horny lesbian Magic: the Gathering card art review tumblr, so I’m going to assume that losing one’s hateful, fundamentalist faith is the opposite of horrifying to you. But it was, absolutely, horror to contemplate for someone on the other side of that process.

But then... is the horror of any given transformation only a matter of where you’re standing? If you read The Shadow over Innsmouth aware of Lovecraft’s profound racism, it becomes very, very obvious that the horror of Innsmouth is the specter of miscegenation. The narrator’s horrified cataloging of the facial features of the offspring of fishmen and humans, the South Pacific origin of the sea-devil-worship of Innsmouth brought back by an enterprising merchant captain, the fear of the unsuspected poison of one’s own ancestry lurking in one’s own blood: all of this is much less effective as horror for someone living in a country where interracial marriages are protected under law and seen as unproblematic in consensus morality (assume whatever asterisks are necessary for the complicated landscape of attitudes toward interracial relationships in the United States, please, I do not have the expertise or desire to get into it here.) My point is that since 1967 (asterisk asterisk asterisk), we are through to the other side of that horror, and it turns out there literally wasn’t anything to be afraid of. The pelagial palaces and terraced coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei just sound beautiful to me.

And it’s hard for me—though I may be in the minority here—to view Hill House as the primary antagonist in Jackson’s novel. The true source of evil is all the things Eleanor runs from and therefore brings with her: her cruel, deceased mother, her exploitation and infantilization by her sister; as well as the final polite unwillingness of her new friends at Hill House to do anything but send her away once she goes inconveniently mad. These mundane ills are what sends Eleanor Vance careening into the tree, not the supernatural will of malignant architecture.

Here, then, is the better part of my thesis: transformation horror is something that can be traversed. You can come out the other end of a transformation unrecognizable to you-as-you-were, and yet still very much yourself. Moreover, it is this navigability, this double-sidedness which so closely links the horror of transformation to the eros of transformation. Not all transformation horror, passed through, becomes plainly erotic, but it is very often portrayed as a kind of seduction, and it is difficult for me to conceive of eros without some kind of change. Desire is a kind of transformation, is it not?

In fact, isn’t it true that a great many of us have already passed through such a transformation? Recall yourself as a child, as you were when you first learned about sex: wasn’t there something repellent and unhygienic about the idea? Wasn’t there a small horror in being told, you will change, and this will cease to be loathsome and become something you desire fervently, something you seek out, something you go to great lengths to experience? ...or were you, possibly, raised in a family & culture that was normal about sex and bodies? I admit I may be generalizing my individual neuroses to some extent here. Well, stet, at the very least you can see where I’m coming from.

THREE.

Returning for a moment to the subject of porn: why forced feminization, specifically? There are—you’re going to have to trust me here—no shortage of ways in the real world by which a man transforms into a woman, and very few of them involve coercion or all the horror-adjacent setup of, say, mind-control devices or vengeful curses. Why does a simple story of a willing gender transition fail to function as erotica? Why did it take stories of unwilling transformation for me to learn I was transgender? What’s the juice ne sais quoi at play in forced-fem?

Well, how does Luke Skywalker come to leave Tatooine? He gets a mysterious message from a princess, a desert wizard tells him to come help rescue her, and... he says no. He has obligations to family here, a job to do, power converters to bring back from Tosche Station. He is enmeshed in a social web, like all of us: it surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the galaxy together and so forth. So in order for Luke to go on grand adventures, the story needs to murder his aunt and uncle and sever those threads of social obligation.

Joseph Campbell, monomyth monomane that he was, would say this is “Refusing the Call” and find it in Jungian shadow on every cave wall, signifying something important in the heart of humanity, but really this is just a useful storytelling tool: a story needs change, but a virtuous protagonist cannot simply abandon their obligations and designated social role to go gallivanting off into space, so change must be forced upon them.

The bodice-ripper romance novel, the rape fantasy, the forced feminization story are all operating on a similar premise: you are so wrapped in society’s web, in your socially-dictated identity, that you cannot even acknowledge your desires on the level of conscious thought. When these things are enacted on your body, you will find yourself changed by the experience. You will love what has been done to you, and you remain blameless, since it’s not as though you sought this out.

These are liberatory fantasies. The lack of consent is precisely what allows you to move beyond what is permitted you into something new.

Incantation Against Bad-Faith Interpretation because I, a transsexual, just called rape fantasies “liberatory”: I am talking about fantasies, I am talking about why people fantasize about having their consent violated, I am talking about the role such fantasies play and what they can tell us about horror and desire. I am not advocating for real people to have real bad things done to them in real life, fuck off, End of Incantation.

So then, we’ve assembled the full thesis: transformation horror is traversible to the other side, and is inextricably linked to transformation erotica, both because of the seduction of transformation in horror and because the horror of transformation unlocks regions of desire which would otherwise have remained inaccessible.

Okay, now we can talk about Phyrexia.

FOUR.

I hear the roar of the big machine / Two worlds and in between / Hot metal and methedrine / I hear empire down

- The Sisters of Mercy, “Lucretia My Reflection”, from Floodland

Phyrexia is many things—a world, another world, a faction, a kind of creature—but I think it can most succinctly be understood as a virulently contagious biomechanical body horror cult dedicated to the ultimate incorporation of all things into itself. It’s a bit like Star Trek’s the Borg, if the Borg had any style whatsoever. It draws heavy inspiration from H. R. Giger’s work—some Phyrexian horrors are barely-altered versions of the xenomorph from Alien—as well as from Clive Barker’s Cenobites in Hellraiser, whose alien BDSM schtick is especially influential on the aesthetic of New Phyrexia. It is transmitted through glistening oil, an infection vector capable of reshaping bodies and minds, and given enough time, whole worlds. The process by which a being is made into a Phyrexian, “compleation,” is accomplished via glistening oil exposure, surgery, cyberization, and brainwashing.

This essay is in many ways a response to Rhystic Studies’ latest video, called “Phyrexia is Hell”. I think it’s a well-made video, as is true of all Sam Gaglio’s work, and a lot of it is really good—the overview of the nearly-thirty-year history of depictions of Phyrexia in Magic: the Gathering art is invaluable, and the stuff about the Phyrexian conlang is unbelievably cool—but the way he identifies Phyrexia one-to-one with a pretty facile understanding of transhumanism leads him to confused and frankly silly conclusions, like placing Phyrexian compleation on the same continuum with cosmetic orthodontics. Like,

Mandible Justiciar (art by Mike Franchina)

Phyrexia is perfectly happy for you to have teeth in your arms instead of your head! They don’t care about the narrow ideal of a conventionally-attractive human smile. This is a whole other thing.

Now, I don’t want to come down too hard on Gaglio here for a couple of reasons: one, he is very good at what he does (see his videos Understanding Sagas and Red Deck Wins, for example); two, it’s reasonable to say that a full understanding of transhumanism is beyond the scope of a video essay about the tiny pictures on cards for dweebs; and three, most importantly, because I see people make this same mistake all the time. People focus on the things that are textually true about Phyrexia and miss the tension between that and the very different things currently being said by the Phyrexian aesthetic. They miss the razorverge thicket, as it were, for the mycosynth trees.

For instance: it is textually the case that Phyrexia is a sort of fascist cult stemming from the depraved machinations of a dead eugenicist god. Contrast, however, other fascist factions in science fiction: the Imperium of Man from Warhammer 40K worships a massive Aryan god-emperor übermensch, its battles are fought by nine-foot-tall genetically-engineered supersoldiers, and it slaps either skulls or chainsaws on every available surface. The Galactic Empire from Star Wars has legions of identical, uniform stormtroopers. Even the Borg all look alike. Phyrexians talk of ideal perfection of form and then make ten thousand completely different monsters. Phyrexians talk of perfect unity and splinter into nearly a dozen factions who can’t even agree on a name for what they’re trying to accomplish. Other fictional fascisms don’t do this—sure, there’s internal contradiction, as in real fascism, but the core aesthetic remains recognizably, sometimes indistinguishably fascist. You can easily find terminally-online Nazis using Warhammer 40K lingo with that peculiar sincerity which is indistinguishable from irony when you’ve decided the truth doesn’t matter, but it would be a lot harder to find some alt-right bozo going all-in on the Glory of Phyrexia. The aesthetic is all wrong, and fascism’s aesthetic is one of its few consistent features.

Mondrak, Glory Dominus (art by Jason A. Engle)

You see what I mean? The aesthetic evokes a sort of alien fascism, but the art itself would be considered “degenerate” by actual fascists.

Tamiyo’s Immobilizer (art by Daren Bader)

This is much, much closer to Mapplethorpe than to Riefenstahl. And people respond to Phyrexia similarly! The body horror and grotesquerie make them uncomfortable, and then they try to moralize that discomfort. This has been happening at the very least since 2011 with the release of New Phyrexia, and I have seen people on Tumblr arguing in total sincerity that people who are into Phyrexia are making themselves susceptible to real-life cult recruitment (again, the heterogeneity of form in Phyrexia is incompatible with the enforced uniformity of cults and other high-control groups. The appeal of Phyrexia does not translate into real-life cults.)

So, okay, what is the appeal of Phyrexia? Well, you get a sick fuckin cyborg body, is what. Many of us, for various reasons (disability, disease, gender, and so forth) find ourselve intensely dissatisfied with our own bodies, and wanting to radically alter them. Many of us already have. Yes, you surrender your humanity when you are compleated, but we know first-hand that “humanity” is socially-constructed and contingent on certain kinds of conformity. We’ve had our humanity doubted, interrogated, stripped away. We’ve done without. It’s not too high a price to pay, if we get to look like this at the end:

Vraska, Betrayal’s Sting (art by Chase Stone)

I’d even argue that getting to reject humanity as it has rejected you is part of the appeal of compleation. This isn’t quite transhumanism; I might call it exhumanism: the freedom to unearth a way of being that is no longer being human. This is why compleation is coercive, remember? The fantasy allows you to get to this point without making the unimaginable decision to reject not only your individual social obligations, but the idea that you could owe anyone or everyone any kind of social conformity simply for having been born into your species—and then you get to be a cool and powerful cybergorgon.

This, then, is why I don��t blame someone like Sam Gaglio (who is to the best of my knowledge both cisgender and able-bodied) for not really getting what’s going on with Phyrexia. He lives on the before side of the horror of transformation; he’s never had to cross over.

In fact, I’d go one step further here. Phyrexia has existed for almost thirty years, and in that time it’s changed quite a bit. Gaglio quotes an article by Rob Bockman in Hipsters of the Coast which comments on how the shift in the depictions of Phyrexia from 1994 to 2000 reflected shifts in cultural fears over time. The Satanic Panic shaded into multidirectional Y2K anxieties, and the necromancy of original Phyrexia mutated into technological horror. This is what effective horror does: it reflects the fears of its age back to us.

Today, Phyrexia is a seductive, corrupting influence. They have figured out how to compleat planeswalkers—the protagonists of Magic storylines; named, important characters (and Lukka)—which was previously thought impossible. Characters we knew and loved (and Lukka) are seduced, brainwashed, bodily violated, surgically altered, and returned to us unrecognizable. It is not coincidental that this version of Phyrexia is concurrent with the worst wave of anti-transgender legislation to hit the United States in decades—legislation which plays on the specters of the transsexual bathroom predator and on the brainwashed child transitioner, on the idea that transsexuality is a form of social contagion we must protect our children from even learning about. The horror of Phyrexia in its current incarnation is a mirror of our cultural fear of transsexual bodies.

Irreversible Damage: the Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters (art by Lauren K. Cannon)

I want to be very clear here—actually, one moment, my extremely funny Abigail Schrier joke notwithstanding, I do need to tell you that the actual name of the above card is “Furnace Punisher”, which is just peak Phyrexia—I want to be clear that I am not ascribing any kind of malice or antipathy towards trans people, either intentional or unconscious, to Wizards of the Coast or the people who make Magic: the Gathering. I would be shocked if anyone there set out to make Innsmouth-style horror about transsexuals. Nor am I upset that they kind of have! Something being fun and interesting is way more important to me than whether or not it’s problematic, and it’s not like I haven’t seen way more vicious horror about transsexuals. We’ll laugh about this someday, in the coral gardens of Y’ha-nthlei, and you’ll wonder what you were ever so afraid of.

In fact, this is another reason why Phyrexia is so appealing to people like us: we are a kind of social contagion. We are carriers for the viral idea that modes of being outside patriarchy and the nuclear family exist; that gender is a marketing demographic, not an ontological truth; that damn near everything about the world we’ve built is not a necessary fact but a social construct contingent upon a half-dozen other social constructs. A new world grows from many, many seeds, and this one germinates in us.

Anyway! What were we talking aboFIVE.

//please state your name for the record

bone-wife / spit-dribbler / understudy for the underdog / uphill rumor / fine-toothed cunt

- Franny Choi, “Turing Test”, from Death by Sex Machine

Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite (art by Igor Kieryluk)

There is a gravitational pull this painting exerts on people. Even people who don’t get Phyrexia find themselves drawn in, find it difficult to look away (e.g. 26:30 in that Rhystic Studies video.) I have for a long time maintained that Elesh Norn is the hottest character in Magic, and that Kieryluk’s portrayal of her is the best art in Magic, and neither of these opinions are particularly surprising coming from me. What is surprising is just how many people also converge on Miss Multiverse’s-Most-Fuckable-Pyramid-Head as, not just a sex icon of Magic: the Gathering, but the sex icon.

Well, or is it? Giant anchor-shaped porcelain mask aside, her silhouette is more or less that of a painfully-thin woman; she stands fully twelve feet tall, and we remember how wild everyone went over Resident Evil: Village’s woman who was only three-quarters of that; and though not an artificial intelligence herself, it’s hard not to place her somewhere in the Cyberqueen lineage. Like SHODAN, like GladOS, like Cyberqueen, she exerts a near-omnipotent level of control over (part of) her world; like them, she is a megalomaniacal egotist (though she cloaks her egotism in piety); like them, she is happy to render you more useful to her via surgery, brainwashing, or deadly neurotoxin. Her mask obscures where her eyes would be, and if I’ve learned anything from a decade of playing or mostly watching other people play the various Dark Souls games, it’s that people go apeshit for character designs without visible eyes (see also: the xenomorph from Alien; I did a whole thing on this subject somewhere back in the Wifelink archive.) So you’ve got a 12′ nigh-omnipotent eyeless dominatrix mostly shaped like a skinny woman, which is maybe pushing a whole lot of buttons at once for a lot of people.

As a character, we don’t know much about her: at some point, she became undisputed leader of the Machine Orthodoxy, the cultiest bit of New Phyrexia. At a later point, she became the extremely-disputed leader of New Phyrexia as a whole. She likes long walks on the beach and multiversal Phyrexian dominion, you get it. There is, however, one good story featuring her, and it is “A Garden of Flesh” by Lora Gray (sorry to give you additional reading in a five-thousand-word essay.) The story is interesting because it is the rare story told from a Phyrexian point of view, and because it flies in the face of many of our assumptions about Phyrexian interiority. Phyrexians, we’re told, lack souls. They’re unfeeling, more machine than man. They most certainly don’t dream.

“A Garden of Flesh” is what happens when Ashiok, planeswalker architect of nightmares and an eyeless smokeshow in their own right, gets curious about whether they can induce nightmares in a Phyrexian mind. What follows is a curiously-effective piece of body & transformation horror, told from the point of view of what is supposed to be the awful endpoint of transformation horror. What does a perfect, powerful biomechanical creature fear? The organic, soft, spongy. Putrefaction. Decay. What does such a creature fear becoming? Human.

I didn’t devote a fifth of this essay to Elesh Norn just because she’s unbelievably hot (although dayenu), but because of this story, and how it complicates our thesis. The horror of transformation is traversible, yes, but what will you find on the other side? More transformation. More horror. And transformation is inevitable: who of us are who we expected to be? Who of us still hold dear the precious things of childhood? And even you few who are raising your hands right now, you too will experience transformation. Should you live long enough, you will find yourself changing. Your body and mind will grow rebellious, unreliable. You will grow old. You will decay.

And yet—it’s a matter of perspective, of where you weight your focus, isn’t it? There will always be more transformation and more horror, but there will always be a way through it. There will always be another shore upon the other side. You will change. You will become unrecognizable to who you were before. You will be fine.

Incompleat Bibliography & Further Reading/Viewing/Playing

Rhystic Studies, “Phyrexia is Hell”, 2023. H. P. Lovecraft, The Shadow over Innsmouth, 1931. Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House, 1959. Alex Garland, Annihilation, 2018. Harlan Ellison, “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream”, 1967. Ken Levine, System Shock 2, 1999. —never played it myself. Mostly I just open up a youtube video of SHODAN voice lines when I want to get belittled by an AI dominatrix. Valve, Portal 2, 2011. —there is a lot more to be said about GladOS and Elesh Norn specifically and their respective fraught relationships with the idea of their own humanity. Porpentine Charity Heartscape, Cyberqueen, 2012. —whence my chapter header screenshots. Seriously, this game fucks so hard. Franny Choi, Death by Sex Machine, 2017. —Choi is making extensive use of cyborg metaphor to address the specific experience of being a Korean-American woman. This is very different from anything I’m talking about, but it also always felt extremely relevant to me as a trans woman. Subaltern-to-subaltern communication. Lora Gray, “A Garden of Flesh,” 2022. —it’s no accident that the author of the one good story told from a Phyrexian POV is nonbinary. hbomberguy, “Outsiders: How To Adapt H.P. Lovecraft In the 21st Century”, 2018. Jacob Geller, “Who’s Afraid of Modern Art: Vandalism, Video Games, and Fascism”, 2019. Caitlín R Kiernan, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, 2012. —only tangentially relevant, except insofar as it recontextualizes the Lewis Carroll line I open the essay with, and insofar as it is my favorite novel and I’m writing the bibliography. Debatable whether it counts as transformation horror, and I imagine the author would bridle at its being described as horror, but nevertheless: you should read this book.

[yuri-is-online]

Azul totally has an octopus and shrimp plush that he makes kiss.

Who? How? Usually when I get an ask I know where it comes from (or why anyway) but this time I just looked at my phone and got hit by a bus. But you know what annon? You are so right, he totally does.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Azul engages in some SSS tier simping (shrimping?), once again this is a joke but I am not taking cold meds this time! Please look at my masterlist for more serious works.

Plush toys do not exist in the ocean, the concept of them was something Azul had been made aware of in his research and made note of in land training camp. But of course, as was the case with more things than he would ever admit to outside of a court order, Azul failed to grasp just how ubiquitous and popular plushies were. He had even been gifted an octopus plush as a prize during one of the first Board Game Club events he attended, something he had intended to brush off as childish until he saw the way his club mates reacted, even if he didn't understand why himself the little guy was clearly an enviable prize. A claim made less believable with how he hadn't let Floyd squeeze it, or Jade poke at it, and he certainly had not agreed to give it to Idia no matter how much he had begged.

The shrimp plush had been a... strategic purchase. No really, if anyone asked he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he had bought this specific plush that he had to go out of his way to find, order, and watch out for to make sure that Jade didn't bring it to him with the rest of his mail. The Mostro Lounge was always going to expand to have a merch store, and since plush toys were so popular with humans it made sense to have some! He just needed to ensure this particular brand was of a high enough quality to commission-

No one was going to buy that excuse. All the more reason to keep this little indulgence a secret, even if the seller had been confused by his request for discreet packaging.

"It's just a plush sir?" To them maybe, to him this is a painful sign that he should just say something already but he needs to plan for that and this should help. The two plushes certainly look natural enough together, Azul has seen pictures of some beds that have a bunch of little guys set up on them and he's beginning to see the appeal. Maybe he should get two eels? Smaller than the shrimp, obviously, it's the only way the real ones will ever let him live it down. But by thinking that he is sort of acknowledging who the little shrimp is supposed to represent. And they're sitting next to him in his bed.

He takes back his previous thought, Azul has no idea how humans sleep with things that remind them of the objects of their affections, it's filling his mind with situations.  He props himself up against the headboard, holding both plushies close to his face so he can see them without his glasses.

“I was so lonely.” Azul is incapable of picturing him otherwise.  “I really missed you.”  He sniffles, and the little shrimp jumps to comfort him.

“I missed you too!”  The little shrimp is friends with the octopus?  Azul has no idea when that happened he just got them today-  “Let’s never be apart again ok?”

“Do you really mean that?”  The little octopus tentatively reaches out one of his stubby tentacles towards the shrimp, who takes it happily.  “I don’t want to let you go…”

“You don’t have to.” comforts the little shrimp. “We can get married and do our laundry and taxes together forever and you won’t ever have to be lonely ever again.” 

And that is apparently when Azul decides to come back to his senses, just as he is halfway through humming a wedding march and making the plushies kiss.  He remembers himself enough to keep them from dropping to the floor, but they still fall to his side as he collapses back onto his pillows redder than a boiled lobster.

Maybe he should just… give the little shrimp over to Yuu.  And make some actual progress on that laundry and taxes bit.

[bonesandchalamet]

one room, one us - k.connor

masterlist

requested: y- “I almost immediately want to put forward the “only one hotel room left and it’s only got one bed” trope for a Kit Connor request 🫢 friends to lovers of course 🫡”

pairing: kit connor x reader — please message me if I used any pronouns of she/her this is supposed to be gender neutral!

warnings: one room trope + mentions of making out (purely innocent kissing)

a/n: loved this request hope I did it justice xx

“I could’ve sworn it had two beds.” he stammers over his words, a light nervous chuckle falls off his lips. as you turn to face him, you see he’s as red as a lobster, embarrassed for his mistake on the booking error, “I swear. y/n, im sorry.”

“kit,” you warn him giving a pointed look that he knows too well. he shouldn’t be apologizing considering you’re long time friends, but he is. sharing a bed was like crossing a line in his book, and he wasn’t quite sure your friendship was at that level of mattress sharing and blanket tugging.

“don’t apologize, I’m sure I can find another room—“

“you can’t. the place is sold out, and I’d offer my bed, but I promised tobbie he could share with me.” joe peaks his head in from the conjoining room, tobbie’s head appears atop of his with a simple frown for your sorrows, but truth be told, you couldn’t be too mad about sharing a bed with kit. he’s a dear friend for Christ sakes not a stranger with a filthy disease.

“honestly, it’s okay. we can make due right? just build a wall of pillows! it’ll be all good.” you offer your best smile to three boys who nod in agreement with your words. it’ll all be fine. except will it? you’ve never passed sharing a blanket or a bag of chips on the sofa, this could really change things— or maybe you’re just classically overthinking that this could ruin or change the course of your friendship.

—

“so I like to sleep on that side.” kit nudges his head to the right. the side that’s closest to the clock and the charging outlets, it’s also currently the place you’re snuggled under the sheets in.

“well I got here first.” you poke at your tongue, but gladly move along per his request and allow your phone to stay on the nightstand leaving you two with nothing but a conversation.

“even joe knows I like this side.”

“well excuse me for missing this course in friendship, but you’ve never told me you’ve had a preference to sides.” you pull the comforter up close to your chin and settle in against the mattress once again, finding comfort after a long day.

travel and tourism of a new place had taken it out on you, kit, joe and tobbie so much so that your evening plans of late dinner and drinks had turned into laying in bed to order room service. exhaustion was just only an understatement of what you felt.

“you tired?” he whispers, the words hang in the air almost he didn’t say them. it takes you a whole minute to register he’s waiting for a response, and by the time you open one eye, he’s found himself cuddled up with one of the pillows that’s being used as a barrier.

“hey,” you flip over onto your side, his thick light blond eyelashes flicker up, his beautiful eyes staring into yours. you can feel your heart stop, your breath goes right in your throat as you try to remember the words you were going to say.

“do you think you can turn off the lights?” he mutters mimicking your position as well, comforter pulled up to under his chin with pleading puppy dog eyes, “I can’t reach it.”

you let out a breathy chuckle watching his eyes close again, “it’s on your preferred side.” you say poking his side earning a grimace from him.

he juts out his lower lip, opening his eyes again, he gives you his best sad puppy dog look that’s so convincing you reach over his body and flip off the light, “there you go your highness.”

“hey!” he gasps, sitting upright. you can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure they are about a centimeter away from popping out of their sockets. you can only make out so much of him, but what you do notice is he’s completely shirtless. an image your brain clearly must’ve ignored in the first place, but now can’t seem to erase it.

“I’m nothing but high maintenance.”

an innocent unconscious laughter escapes your lips as you can recall the times when kit might of been a bit more on the needier side of things, but you cover your lips with an invisible zipper making his playful anger grow.

“no! tell me this instant!” he gently presses a slight shove against your arms and discards one of the pillows used as a barrier. he moves closer to you resting his head against your shoulder, “if you don’t tell me I’ll just fall asleep right here.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, saliva fills your throat as you become to realize what you’ve just put in the air for him to settle with. maybe it was stupid, maybe it was wrong, but your feelings for kit were nothing but pure and right.

you could always feel his attraction towards you, and tonight, with only one bed and one hotel room left, it felt like someone was pulling you two together. someone or something was trying to push you two off the edge and into something more.

“what if I did this,” he sits up, index finger gently grazes your chin as he pulls your face towards him. time feels slow in this moment, his face inching closer your heart begging to jump out of your throat, its not until his lips are on yours when time seems to finally catch up.

his lips were like heaven. soft enough to melt you into his arms, and warm enough to send a heat wave through your body as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

he pulls away, a small gasp exiting his lips catching his breath, “so you don’t mind that?” he asks, a growing concern reaches his face that you can’t see, but your lips on his sends him the right message.

“look who’s high maintenance now,” he says in between kisses, a chuckle escapes his lips as you grab a fist full of his hair and pull his lips back onto yours.

“I’m only high maintenance with and for you, connor. it took you too long to kiss me.”

he throws his head back laughing as he collapses against the mattress, “just kiss me again, y/n.”