#glass oil burner

[ashncloud1]

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[susoriginals]

Antique Victorian Edwardian Oil Lamp Painted Milk Glass Flat Base fits wall Bracket Brass Filler Cap & Scovill Queen Anne2 Burner for $28

[waiterwaiterpercolator]

Two stickers and two art prints, my fave purchases from from comic con on saturday, created by @spikings who also has an etsy store.

The skeletons weren't being sold as a matching set but my friend and i thought they looked too good together not to get both, so we each got a pair 😅

[playroom]

An early work of Rosetree Studio, in New Orleans, USA.

Handblown glass, of a candle oil bottle with a long handle. Swirling pattern, iridescent hue.

Height: approx. 11-1/2" inches

[dtrainderailed]

What the hell is this 4? 2 oils at once?

What the hell is this 4? 2 oils at once?

I’m having a hard time trying to figure out this odd ball oil burner design.. with the two balls on one stem? Weird isn’t it.. you’d need to use both hands with 2 lighters to use both of the bubbles at one time. The girl at the vape store gave me a deal on the big bigger biggest piper that I’d had gotten on one of my last trips. To the dub maybe 2 weeks ago when I dropped my glass while sitting…

[kitchenwitchtingss]

50 KITCHEN WITCH TIPS TO MAKE YOU FEEL MORE WITCHY

(And other useful things I've learned over the years)

Hi! This is a list of dos, don'ts, tips, tricks, and other fun things that I've learned over the years. I always love finding more effective and efficient ways of doing things so if you have any cool things you'd like to add, leave them in the comments or reblog. I'd love to read it.

Anyways... On with the list ^_^

Light candles around your kitchen space (just make sure nothing flammable is near you)

Annotate your cookbooks with the correspondence of the ingredients.

Mediating is really good to calm the mind before cooking.

Cut oranges and lemons thinly, dry them, and hang them with twine around your kitchen

Need a cleansing tip? Open all your windows near your kitchen. Let some fresh air in.

Cutting sigils into apples, pie crusts, and carved potatoes.

Save lemon and orange rinds, freeze them, and then use them to clean the garbage disposal.

Make infused oils and honey: Things like garlic honey, lavender honey, herb oil, sun oil, moon oil, dandelion oil, and other different edible oils are very fun and useful to make.

Hid sigils in pages of your cookbooks and kitchen witch journals.

Add some plants! Snake plants and spider plants don't need too much light, and growing your own herbs in your kitchen is awesome too. Basil, lavender, thyme, aloe vera, rosemary, etc. are good fits. You could also add some plants that require more sunlight on the kitchen window sill. Like cacti and succulents.

Bring crystals into your kitchen space such as rose quartz, clear quartz, amethyst, or whatever you want the space's intentions to be.

I keep a small money tree on the sill, along with cacti for luck and protection.

Make a simmer Pot! Mostly because it makes the whole house smell good, easy, and fun.

Stir clockwise for best results!

Learning how to pickle things is actually pretty witchy. Plus, anyone could do it as it requires absolutely no kitchen experience. You could pickle any vegetable, even if you don't like pickles. I originally learned this after having to take shelter from a natural disaster. A person brought a bunch of stuff and taught us how to pickle things with different spices and herbs. Very fun!

Decorate your kitchen with your favorite stuff. Crystals, decor, heat mits, that cool mushroom cake stand you've been eyeing at the World Market for the past 2 weeks, cool looking curtains, sun catchers. Why stop there? Paint the walls, hang shelves full of marked-up cookbooks that are a little too well-loved and thumbed through.

Wanna be the person that has the amazing-smelling house every time people come over? Syrups take some time to simmer down, it's actually a pretty good time to leave it on the stove to simmer. Since syrups have a lot of aromatic ingredients, it acts as a really good-smelling simmer pot.

Hang up herbs to dry with twine from cabinets that are rarely used.

Invest in that new set of plates and cups.

Homemade jams, butter, sauces, and syrups are your best friend.

Crochet or knit your own dish rags, pot holders, etc.

Don't pour extremely hot things into a glass that's not Pyrex, it will break, and you will be very sad about it.

Don't cook anything while extremely upset or emotional (For safety reasons)

Make recipes you want to make, not just because you'll like the effect. Make it because you think it's tasty.

Chinese Five Spice works in place of herbs for protection and luck spells a lot of the time! It's cheaper to buy 1 spice than 4 different spices that total up to 15 dollars when you could just spend 3-4 dollars.

Take a shower before cooking (I don't know how to explain this one other than it makes you feel better)

Don't use microfiber/plastic material clothes on hot burners, it will fuse to the burner and melt. It is VERY hard to get off.

I don't know if I need to put this one but I did see someone do it so nonstick pan = wooden utensils and plastic utensils, metal pan = metal utensils. Do not use a metal spoon in a nonstick pan, please. It can make you very sick.

Keep your pets away from hot oil, open ovens, and hot pans.

You can proof bread dough in the fridge overnight if you don't have the time to bake, or want to eat fresh bread right in the morning.

Need a quick witchy meal for dinner in 12 minutes? Use premade tomato pasta sauce and doctor it up with thyme, rosemary, and garlic, for protection and distilling stagnant energies. Serve with pasta of your liking.

You can substitute Butter for Crisco/shortening, buttermilk for 1 cup of milk + 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar or lemon juice, and heavy cream for 1 cup of half and half plus 2 tbsp of butter.

Use leftover animal bones to make bone broth

Teach yourself the art of bread scoring (It's fun, and you can show it off to your loved ones!)

Collect and hoard your own and others' family recipes.

Sometimes the food doesn't have to be a spell, sometimes it just makes you feel good and you don't know why.

Listen to your favorite music in the kitchen, it makes the monotonous things like chopping veggies move faster.

Invest in a vegetable chopper if you don't like chopping vegetables.

Find a really good hot cocoa recipe and make it once a week. Master it. Just for your own happiness because hot cocoa is really good. You could also be the friend/family member that makes the best hot cocoa ever.

Focaccia Bread Lasts a very long time, and it's very easy to make!

Keep a first aid kit near where the oven is, in case of burns, cuts, or serious injuries where time is everything.

Quick Bread and no-rise loaves are simple for beginners, tasty, and take little time. They also feel very witchy to make.

Study a bit of Herbalism! It's fun and really helps better understand the herbs you're putting into your food.

While something is boiling, put your wooden spoon over the pot to minimize the chance of something boiling over.

Try a bit of coffee magick, it's simple to get into, and gives you a boost of energy to take on the day!

If you're over 21, wine-making is a very interesting way to celebrate the sabbats. Just with that, make sure you KNOW what you're doing. With anything fermented, there's always a risk if you don't store things correctly. Apple wines, strawberry wines, dandelion wines, etc. all very cool to experiment with. If you're not over 21, vinegar is a similar way to experiment.

Hang up some witchy things, sigils, photos, cool magnets, and other things that give you joy on your fridge. (Sometimes if you are lucky they have some fun magnets at five below)

If you live in the US, for some reason, there are a lot of books in the book section dedicated to witchcraft and spirituality. At least where I live. And they are all under 5 dollars!

Teas are the cheapest and easiest things you can practice being a kitchen witch.

[beanlot]

MISTRESS

sevika x maid!reader

at first, you were her maid. but master liked you just enough to make you her mistress.

word count: 4.0k

genre: smut

warnings: amab!sevika, age gap, sevika cheats on her wife, slight spanking, spit, vibrator use, master/servant relationship, breeding kink

────────────────

“what a gorgeous colour.” her fingers ironing the corners of her lips, mahogany lipstick cleansing from the cedar skin in superlative fashion. she was objectively sumptuous, a classy woman surrounded by old money and platinum basin sinks; an easy life enough that she didn’t even have to raise a finger to apply honeydew exfoliation masks to her glistening skin. “don’t you think?” she stares at you through the mirror, umber eyes fanned by silky lashes - lids glossed with everlasting lustre of golden butterscotch, tempted to believe you could see your reflection if stood close enough.

“yes, madam.” you nod, fingers clasped onto a hanger, vintage dress glittered with merlot gemstones fluorescent against the sapphire tiles of the floor. you weren’t lying, it was a gorgeous colour. and madam wasn’t particularly sinister against you, or even sinister at all..

“you filthy pig.”

“don’t you dare touch my antiques.”

“look at you, fix this messy hair. i will not have guests over whilst you look like a disgusting hooker.”

mostly.

“vika loves this colour.” she sighs, french-tipped nails tapping against the argyle jewellery around her neck. her scent of prevailing pumpkin spice suffocating you momentarily when she turns around, taking the hanger from your grip; you’ll watch as she lays the dress against her body, feminine curves of her hips accentuated through the garnet jewels as she subtly twirls around. she hum, lashes batting through the scrutiny before she shoves the hanger into your chest hurriedly. “be a dear for me and tighten the waist.”

and sure, you don’t expect the best of treatment regardless. you were on the back burner, disposable in every aspect with your dull shirt collar; onyx skirt tucking in your buttons and the driest of hands from the constant polishing. “yes ma-“ a shrill bark interrupts you, and it’s when you turn around that you see a woolly poodle, pastel frilly dress, wiggling through the door.

“ugh, pinkiebear! what are you doing, my baby snuffles?” and just like that, as madam scoops the pup into her arms, you’re left alone in the bathroom. moroccan rose handwash beside her gold-plaited cosmetics, pomegranate face serums and emerald earrings; you’d wondered what the oils would feel like on your fingertips, the creaminess against your skin soaking with pulchritude. it feels like bait when you see that one tub is already open, pale watermelon serum calling your fucking name - she won’t notice, there’s no way.

so you tenderly swab at the surface, the velvety touch on your skin.. it already makes you feel pretty, glammed up, like her. and the dysphoria only amplifies ironically when you massage the pearly ointment into your cheek, the winsome highlight when you turn your head not going unnoticed.

wine glass and plate in hand as you approach sevika’s master’s study, nudging the door with your shoulder. it was smoked salmon and caviar, and if you weren’t so fond of her, it would be rational to believe she was intentionally inflicting the purgatory of starvation onto you. but she was not resentful, her muffled tone of come in prompting you to amble inside; the air murky from her cigar smoke, illuminated by dim apricot from the scattered lamps. and she’s there, with every inhale, you can decipher the ocherous flame between her lips - her fingers clearing her desk when she sees the wine bottle tucked under your arm.

“thank you, darling.” she murmurs within the fever dream, fumes seeping through her lips to which she fans out when you’re beside her desk. it’s elixir to taste, and although it’s toxin on your tongue, it’s contradicting - plate and wine glass settled against the oak, careful to avoid her disarray of books and orderly inklings when you pour the currant. she examines this, raising an eyebrow before tapping the tobacco against an ashtray. “are you hungry?”

fuck, you have no idea.

“no, master.” you shake your head, because even though you could feel your organs internally booing inside from the withering, you were under an obligation of being polite. and hell, it was reasonable for her to concern herself with your wellbeing per se: she was older, much older; yet you merely took it as manners, sympathy that you weren’t born into such opulence. so when you finish pouring, tenderly placing the bottle beside master’s glass - it’s paralysis when her coercive words refrain you from leaving the room as you intended. “come here.” she instructs, virescent globes eclipsed with hues of oxblood when you maintain eye contact from your awkward distance. she’s manspreading, white button-up loose against her chest, and the uncertainty only amplifies when master’s tone becomes demanding. “come.. here.”

so you shuffle towards her, and you’re not sure if it’s the nicotine or the peril brunt of her influential stare, but your blood pressure raises when you stop - that maybe you’d said something wrong, gotten a wine she didn’t like, or you were vicariously responsible for the chef’s error. but the neurotic thoughts plummet when you see her slice an intricate cube of the salmon, fork held out to you with sincerity.

“try it, it’s good for you.” she advises, and you’re under automatism to obey - her fingers scraping against yours when you take the fork, examining the glassy block. you’re not sure what it’s seasoned with, only able to distinguish the honey glaze and sprinkle of pepper; you couldn’t even fucking describe what salmon tasted like, a luxury that your flimsy uniform never got to see up close. and you feel emotional when it finds itself between your teeth, erupting with foreign rich oils and glacé syrup.

you want to appreciate it, had you not interpreted the investigative glances she’s giving you. skeptical eyebrows dipping in, defining the droopiness of her lids and the eclipse of gunmetal in her narrowed pupils - they search your face, because there’s something about you that master just can’t pinpoint. “you’re glowing.” she mumbles, fingers branching out toward you and framing your jaw ever so tenderly; thumb stroking along the curves of your cheekbone, the familiar and velvety texture of your skin no stranger to master. “you’ve been using my wife’s stuff, haven’t you?”

great.

of course, how could you have been so recklessly fucking dense? you’d just swabbed a few thousands onto your face and expected that nobody would’ve been able to put two and two together, and now you’re stood here like a fucking embarrassment whilst her conquering globes assess you. master was going to obliterate you for even contemplating putting your filthy wilted fingers on her wife’s belongings, and you’re just waiting for her to call the chef over to slice you into little pepperonis and use your torso as a fucking piñata for her fancydancy din-

“looks good on you.” she mumbles, and the harmonising words nosedive into your stomach with more adamantine force than waiting for her to beat you to a pulp. her fingers streamlining down your jaw before she picks up her plate, ludic smirk concealing the mulberry on her lips as she offers her plate towards you. “don’t tell.”

you look back and forth, and it’s only when she nudges the porcelain into your stomach that you realise what she meant. she was only really interested in the wine, and within her hospitality, gave you something to eat for the night.

───────────

“your muscles are all contracting, just relax.”

“i’m trying..”

“you should really look into tai-chi, saves me hours of making these for you.

i’ll be back tomorrow,

ice or magnesium for any muscle pain,

is that a chip in the wall?

anyway, i’ll see you tomorrow, my lovely~.”

you’d been waiting outside her room for about forty minutes, folded blouse and dress shirts in hand; although you liked to consider yourself respectful of master’s private conversations, not even the bricky walls and thick interior of the hallways could muffle the massage therapist’s jarringly piercing voice - one that only amplifies when master’s door opens, a tiny woman pootling herself down the hall with a bowl of water, peppermint leaves floating within the misty pool.

it’s rosemary and eucalyptus when you inhale, frissons of sweltering air blossoming your way as the door closes over only slightly. but you’re prudent, you’re conditioned to be, waiting outside her door for her to have her few minutes of privacy - but she calls you in when she identifies your shadow against her marble tiles, eyes absentmindedly tracing the silhouette of your hips.

and when you walk in, nudging the door ever so slightly, she’s face-down on the master bed; surrounded by canary silk pillows and lime basil candles, her wine cellar visible from where you stand. you approach the palladium drawers, and whilst your job was plainsailing, the difficulty of having to avert your eyes from her bare back did it’s due diligence to make it just a little harder for you. but you stay silent nonetheless, the palatable glimmering against her burly shoulders, one that made you envy a massage therapist’s expertise as you organise her shirts.

“you have pain, master?” you mumble, clearing your throat when it starts to disintegrate at the mercy of her tensing shoulders, glorious muscle twitching. “my shoulders, darling. it’s not so bad.” she doesn’t move, and although you seem satisfied with the composed silence, the thought of leaving in it made your stomach sour.

“is there anything i can do?” you offer, graphite eyes piercing into your body when she turns her head against the pillow - you can tell she’s engrossed in those retrospective thoughts of hers by the way she’s zoning out, clouding globes that flutter over you before she pats the mattress.

“lay with me..” she mutters, black pepper fragrant when she inches away, leaving you a temptingly delectable space beside her. it feels wrong, and your ears can already feel the wrath of madam’s scream when she finds out you dared even the slightest courage to lay in her bed, beside her wife.

but master was at the top of the food chain.

so you reluctantly obey, not oblivious to the raw sensation of eagerness when her bare abdomen raises slightly from the mattress - she’s toned, noir curves that only excite the vim when you’re slithering into the space she’d left you. but it’s not enough to dilute your inhibitions, your body rigid when her fingers flutter against your waist; she notices this, intoxication when her whisper caresses against your ear. “relax, relax.” she whispers, the suggestive timbre diminishing you - she waits until you slump into the satin, plumose textures under your fingertips, before her arm cases over your waist and trails you against her bare chest. it’s morally profane, warmth from her breasts contagious on your spine, skin sweltering idyllically - kittenish and lewd and wow you’re getting horny.

it’s silent for a few minutes. but you feel dirty, her vanilla comfort something you ruined.

“you remind me of my wife when we first met.” the vanilla wisps against your jaw curdling into vulgarity when her fingers tenderly clutch at the hem of your skirt, and although one part of you feels like nothing more than a doll for her to use the one night her wife is out attending a dinner, another is relieved when the wintry air strikes your thighs.

“young,” her fingers lifting the skirt enough that her perverted eyes can search your hips, the way they embrace the black straps of your underwear.

“pretty,” her nails glissading against your inner thighs, forefinger sinking between them enough that they’re under automatism to separate. you try to convince yourself that it’s because you don’t want to get into trouble, disappoint that streak of high expectations you managed to leap over the past few weeks - but by the vim in your clit, it was disgustingly undeniable it was because fantasy was becoming reality.

“fertile.” she delicately taps your clothed clit, subtle sensitivity that already gets your hips rolling into her crude touch. her engagement ring flaring in your peripheral when her left hand slinks around your body, black opal glinting as her palm rests against your breasts. “look at me.” her lips tickling against your cheek as you turn to her, hues of predatory oxblood glossing over her lead pupils. she likes that she owns you, conditioned you to be her little pet, dominated your identity to nothing more than her servant.

so the overly obscene taste on her lips when she’d pressed her forehead against yours, skin searing with wealthy indecency was no shock. she was impulsive, lips against yours, unseemly sounds of anticipated smooches as you drink up the taste of peppermint. she wants to be delicate for you, but the instinct outlasting the grace when she hears you hum. you’re heedless of your sloppy grinding, shaky exhales which only worsen when she pulls away; her thumb draping your bottom lip down only slightly. jewels of her spit streamlining into your mouth, your tongue absorbing the droplets filthily. “pretty girl.” she swallows, eyes darting along your jaw, her spit slowly drizzling down your neck.

you want to tell her that this is wrong, that she’s a married woman, but the night already feels drilled into stone when her fingers manipulate the buttons on your chest, cleavage satisfying her sadistic eyes with every one coming undone. your shirt loosens, sinking down your back and accentuating the feminine enticement master was under whilst her fingers revel in the linen cotton of your bra, the straps cunningly draping off your shoulders. “aren’t you gorgeous, look at you.” she whispers, your breasts tingling when there’s nothing there to cover them anymore, her fingers folding your bra down to your stomach.

admiring the way your nipples harden under her fingertips, delicately pinching the responsive buds. you nod, because you expect her to want you to, flinching when you roll your hips against her sturdy thigh; thick imprint of her veiny cock paralysing you momentarily.

“lean over in that drawer.” she gestures to the bedside cabinet, and you’re sceptical when you lean over, your skirt hitching up ever so slightly. and if the humiliation of having your ass presented to her like a fucking showpiece wasn’t degrading enough, the barbaric strike of her palm against it was. you squeak, flinching necessarily - her palm easing the inflamed area intricately, before walloping back down onto your skin. you want to fucking weep, blinking through the blur of your tormented tears, opening the drawer to which a plaited vibrator lays.

“that’s the one.” she confirms, taking it from your fingers as you lay back into the mattress, ass ignited with scorching goosebumps from the brutish force behind her arms. you go to defend yourself, because honestly, you feel lower than the bottom of the food chain - you were no blossoming mighty oak, but rather a withering sunflower under her assertion.. but she knows what you’re about to say. “master, i haven’t do-“

“you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine. i’ll make you feel good.” she sits up, and although she intends to comfort you, it only intimidates you further when her tongue wets her lips; fingers slewing the fabric of your underwear to the side and leaving your slit prey to her predacious stare, only amplifying when she unveils how truly drenched your folds are. but she doesn’t say anything, only leaning over whilst a bullet of her spit seeps between her lips and missiles itself against your clit.

you already feel numb, the heavenly pressure of seventh heaven when you hear the whirring of her vibrator, your thighs quivering with the company of your stimulated whines when the tip purrs against your clitoral hood. “that’s it, atta girl.” she praises, her breasts pressing themselves against your bare spine when she situated herself beside you again. it’s nirvana, humping against the vibrator so primitively, erogenous arcady to hear your incessant whimpers echo throughout the room. you’re sweating by now, at peace with the fire and brimstone breeding on your skin - but you want more, your fingers grazing over the stiff imprint of her desperate cock.

her breath is jagged, submerging the vibrator harder onto your clit, your ankles starting to twitch at the susceptibility. you’re not sure if it’s enough to make you come just yet, but that thought deteriorates when her finger glissades down your slit and streams itself inside of your hole. “fuck.. you’ve made my cock all hard.” she sighs against your cheek, your walls greeting her indiscriminately; spasming with every hum against your clit. she’s testing the waters, fingertips taking a liking to the spongy textures when she tenderly twines it upwards, the pornographic desire in your clit to orgasm more reckless than ever. but you’re not the only one suffering, because sevika is finding that her cock is actually starting to fucking hurt from the distress of not being able to just have her way with you again and again and again.

but she’s patient, finger gliding itself in and out of you; assaulting that carnal pit in your walls as your thighs tremble as she fucks you with them. instinctive sobs leaving your throat unmonitored, and honestly, you wouldn’t be able to describe it even if given a fucking thesaurus - sneezelike corkscrew ballooning itself inside your hips when she hooks another finger inside, arousing squelching with every hammer against your folds. “please..” you whisper, unbeknownst to the soreness in your fingers as they lock, clenching tightly on her belt.

and when she’s satisfied with how vulnerable you are under her, the sensitivity just right, she’ll admire the quavering of your hips and the tightening of your thighs before dragging the vibrator away from your clit. “huh?” you squeak, cunt clenching around her fingers at the sudden loss of her manipulation. you’re about to complain, wail about how much of a fucking tease she is, but she relieves the anguish by leaning over your thighs; her tongue replacing the device and doing its dirty work when it swipes over your hood, delving between your folds and schemingly flicking over your erect bud.

just like that, you’re shaking again, thigh hoisting itself up and planting itself on her bare, burly shoulder. your mewls of master twirling repeatedly in a rabbit hole of ecstasy when her damp lips envelop your clit and suck with cruelty, fingers maintaining their agonising operation; battering into you with precision and artsy discipline, like she’s done this too many times before.

but it’s dispiriting for her, because she wants to be a lovemaker for you, wants to appreciate you for the fine young woman you are - yet the throbbing in her cock conquers that yearning, and it’s then that she pulls away with such self-hatred. “are you gonna let me put my cock inside your cunt, darling?” she exhales, fingers slewing out of your brimming hole, selfishly drizzling your discharge over the mattress and coating over the sable leather of her belt when she goes to unbuckle it.

“yes. yes, master.” you comply, ultramarine daze when you blink; pixels of orchid blooming in your vision when you even did as much as look down to her belt. fingers tackling the every latch, submerging as they frame her veiny shaft - cock springing out and admittedly, inciting nothing more than disruptive thoughts of am i going to fucking live to see tomorrow after this.

she’s thick, and monumental.. fucking handcrafted by gods with such clarity. enough that all of that internal envy becomes more.. not envy, because you know this is gonna really fucking hurt, and you’re not liking how much she exceeds your expectations at the expense of what’s gonna happen to your poor fucking vagina. “do you still want this?” she murmurs when she notices the hues of uncertainty in your eyes, superficial doubt that she interprets easily - it’s an ego boost, artificial concern to conceal her everlasting inclination to ruin you. but you blink at her, flickering between her eyes and the slightly palatable mulberry tip of her cock, before you nod.

it would be cruel for her to nosedive straight into you, and even she knows this, her tip glissading through your folds and lubricated with your slick. she’s slightly sensitive, the warmth of your cunt only amplifying the immense throbbing, but she’s consistent this time - your clit rubbing against her head only instantaneously as she accustoms herself with your textures.

“this might hurt, my love, just a little.” she whispers against your jaw, fingers grappling at your hips as her own angles forward, tip insidious as it skims into your walls; your body merely a betrayal of your conscience when your walls welcome her. but it’s smooth, as she pushes herself in with such fucking entitlement, your insipid moisture coating her cock.

because she owned you, every little fragment.

her mindless breaths against your bare shoulder, the subtle rocks in her hips purely intuition. she hasn’t felt this in years, the vehemence of her girth wrapped around such a fine woman, and it motivates the urge for her to start thrusting your hips back into her. your whimpering sobs with every cudgel of her skin against yours, the indignity of her abdomen pounding against your spine and the raunchy heat of her cock assaulting your cunt.

influx of adrenaline when she hears you mewl, her sloppy kisses on your nape sultry and blistering. “i know, i know it feels good..” she sighs, both hands clenching at your thighs, your hips, your waist- anything to feel herself become adaptable inside of you, anything to get a taste of the rapture inside of herself.

“pretty.. pretty girl..” her muffled groan echoing in your ears as she gets herself off into you. she was dictating your self-worth, dictating your fucking life.. and although some of it felt as if it was just pulling the pieces together, another felt it all shatter into irreversible ruins as her left hand compressed itself onto your clit; engagement ring ever so slightly abrading itself against your wet folds.

and that’s when you feel it.

the sheer pinnacles of rhapsody so distinct as her fingers roll your clit in circular motions superlatively, cock swollen and erect. “please.. please..” you sigh, the jagged timbre exposing how receptive your bundles of nerves were; fingertips touching the very eminent icicles of orgasm when she speaks her foul language in your ears.

“i’m gonna come inside you, do you want that?”

“uh huh.”

“gonna make you the mother of my kids..”

“mhm-hm, master please..”

and then it erupts inside, whirlwind of frenzy that you could only compare to what felt like being edged for hours. your clit numb and jaded, the overstimulation aggravating as your walls pulse around her cock so tightly that she doesn’t even need to continue pummelling into you. conclusively, you were a mess - her palm sealing itself over your lips to repress the uncontrollable cry, tone it down ever so slightly, arms that confine your body as you tremble and do your upmost fucking best to recover.

and after a few minutes of her rocking a few inches back and forth into you, the dishevelled grunt and adhesion of her bangs against your cheek; quivering fingers against your lips and hips that airbrush themselves to divinity let you know that she’s just came.

and something feels off, seriously off. so full and saturated, and it’s when her cock slews itself out of you that you know there’s no way you’re the only one behind all the mess; looking between your legs and flinching at the pearly cream drizzling out of your hole, thick and balmy. your juices meshing together in such harmony that you feel disgust, and yet hypnosis. because she never wanted a maid,

she wanted a mistress.

[tiredwitchplant]

How to Use Herbs: Lavender (English Lavender)

Hello. Back with another post about how to use an herb. This time the herb is lavender. We discussed the history, powers and etc in another post (That I will link in a moment) and now we are going to see how we can use it. >>>> Post about Lavender

Alchemy Formulas:

*Remember when it says one part, try a teaspoon of it first. Always experiment with less amount than too much.

Mercury

one part lavender flowers

one part gum mastic

one part cinnamon chips

one part cinnamon oil

one part lavender oil

Air

one part gum arabic

one part cinnamon

one part lavender oil

one part clove oil

Change

one-part calamus root (Uranus; change)

one part lavender (Mercury; clarity)

one-part powdered nutmeg (Uranus; change)

one part cinnamon (Uranus, Mercury; change)

two parts sandalwood oil (Mercury, Moon; communication between conscious and subconscious minds)

Fame

one part cedar chips (Jupiter; renown)

one part angelica (Sun; authority)

one part myrtle (Venus; the arts)

one part gum mastic (Uranus; innovation)

one part lavender oil (Mercury; knowledge)

one part carnation oil (Jupiter; expansion)

Peace

one-part jasmin flowers (Moon; emotions)

one part myrrh resin (Saturn; grounding)

one part rose petals (Venus; love)

one part lotus oil (Neptune; inspiration)

one part lavender oil (Mercury; communication)

Spells:

Snake-beckoning Spell

Place an image on an altar, either of a snake or of an affiliated deity— the Minoan Serpent Goddess for instance.

Surround this with fresh lavender or warm the essential oil in an aroma burner.

Call the spirit. Be prepared to explain why you have issued the invitation.

Do this spell before bedtime, to receive a visitation in your dreams.

Don’t Sabotage My Success Spell (Workplace Edition)

Prepare a separate mojo for each person who appears to sabotage you.

Write the co-worker’s name on a square of brown paper three times.

Write your own name over each of the co-worker’s names, saying: “I cross you and I cover you.”

Anoint the corners of the paper with essential oils of bergamot, clove bud, and lavender.

Fold up the paper, placing it inside a red flannel drawstring bag, together with a devil’s shoestring root and some cumin seed.

Maintain this discreetly in the workplace, feeding daily with a drop of essential oil of lavender for reinforcement.

Herbal Beauty Glamour Spell

2 ounces of beeswax

1/2 cup coconut oil

1/2 cup olive oil

Glass measuring cup

Pan filled with water

Spoon

10 to 12 drops of lavender essential oil

10 to 12 drops of yarrow essential oil

Mirror

Pretty tin or jar

Combine the beeswax, coconut oil, and olive oil into the glass measuring cup and warm it in the pan full of water. This creates a double boiler like effect.

Once the wax melts, stir everything (the oils and beeswax) until well blended and remove it from the heat.

Add the lavender and yarrow oils, stirring them in slowly. As you do so, look into the mirror and say, I am lovely, I am desirable, I am magical. Beauty is more than skin deep. See me for the magnificence of my inner self.

Before it cools, pour your salve into a pretty tin or jar. After it has firmed up, use it on your skin.

Baths and Cleansing:

Maximum Power Spiritual Cleansing Bath

sea salt

rose and calendula blossoms

lavender oil

rose oil

rosemary oil

sandalwood oil

frankincense oil

myrrh oil

white rose hydrosol

Add copious quantities of sea salt to your bath water.

Add a drop of each essential oil into the water.

Float rose and calendula blossoms in the water, if possible.

Bath for Mercury

Herbs: lavender, white sandalwood, horehound, marjoram, thyme

Oils: lavender, white sandalwood, marjoram, anise

Self-Love Bath Bomb Bag

1 tablespoons of lavender

1 tablespoon of mandrake

1 tablespoon vervain

1 tablespoon vetivert

10-inch square of thin muslin or cotton

White ribbon

Red candle

Place the herbs in the center of the square of the cloth and gather up the corners.

Use the white ribbon to tie it, forming a pouch.

Run a warm bath and hang the pouch over the faucet, allowing the water to run through it, filling the tub with the essence of the herbs.

Light the candle and climb into the tub. Allow yourself to soak in the warm, fragrant water.

Use the herb pouch to wash your body, as you do, gaze into the candle's flame.

Visualize yourself radiating an aura of self-confidence and power. See yourself as the sort of person who attracts attention from those who are worthy.

When the water cools, extinguish the candle and get out of the tub. After you've dried yourself, dispose of the herb pouch by burying it or burning it.

Oils, Potions and Powders

Oil Blend for Patience

1 part rose

1 part lavender

1 part pine

Oil Blend for Peace

1 part violet

1 part lavender

1 part jasmine

1 part sandalwood

Masculine Oil Blend

Base note: 10 drops patchouli

Middle note: 10 drops sandalwood

Top note: 3 drops lavender

For the rest of the recipe, you will need:

1-ounce grated beeswax

Double boiler

1 ounce jojoba oil

2 metal 1-ounce containers

Flat toothpicks

Heat the grated beeswax in the double boiler until it is liquid.

Add the jojoba oil and gently mix the two ingredients together to achieve a homogenous blend.

Pour half the liquid into each container and add 3 drops of your essential oil blend.

Quickly stir the mixture with the toothpicks before the wax begins to set.

Keep one container for anointing yourself and the other as a gift to your consort so that he or she may come to appreciate you on a new level. If you are solitary and without a consort, you can use one for anointing your skin and the other for charging candles and ritual tools.

Love Potion #9

1. Choose nine love herbs. Consider these: Damiana

Ginger

Grains of Paradise

Hibiscus

Lovage

Melissa (lemon balm)

Peppermint

Red clover

Rose petals

(Other options might include adder’s tongue, cardamom pods, catnip, cubeb, lavender, red raspberry leaves or rose hips.)

2. Make a strong infusion of all the herbs, strain, and serve.

Love Powder Drawing Powder

1. Grind the following botanicals to a fine powder:

Basil

Lavender

Rose petals

Yarrow

Optional: ginger blossoms

2. Blend with rice powder.

3. Sprinkle around your home, your bedroom, on your sheets and on you.

Teas and Soothing Pillow:

Bedtime Tea

1 part lavender

1 part catnip

1 part verbena

1 part chamomile

1 cup of boiling water

Mix dry herbs into a small jar

To brew, pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 teaspoon of the blend you made in the jar.

Steep for 5 - 7 minutes. Strain and enjoy.

Love Tea

1 part rose petals

1 part lavender

1 part jasmine

Pinch of cinnamon (optional)

1 cup of boiling water.

Mix dry herbs into a small jar

To brew, pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 teaspoon of the blend you made in the jar.

Steep for 5 - 7 minutes. Strain and enjoy.

Dream Pillow (Hecate’s Pillow)

Hecate provides protection at night as well as psychic enhancement, so that you can journey safely during dreams. Appeal to Hecate to block nightmares too.

Dried lavender

Dried mullein

Essential oil of lavender

Optional: tuberose absolute

Blend two parts lavender to one part mullein.

Sprinkle a few drops of the essential oils over the dried botanicals.

Allow this to dry thoroughly and use it to fill a black pillow.

For optimum results, create and inaugurate the pillow during the Dark Moon or on Halloween/Samhain.

Again, sorry for such a long post. Please try to follow the instructions to the best of your abilities or mix and match and experiment. Happy witching. Bye byes~

Sources

[ashncloud1]

Character bong Wax Silicone Container | Durable & Stylish

Discover the Character bong Wax Silicone Container, designed for durability and style. Perfect for storing wax concentrates, this container features a high-quality silicone material.

[susoriginals]

Antique Edwardian Brass base Oil Lamp 21" Tall Pedestal Base w Plume & Atwood Brass Eagle Burner Emergency Lighting for power outage $40

[ltwilliammowett]

Navigator's Lantern, America, late 19th century

A late 19th century American hand-held signal lamp. This rare example was a forerunner of the better known “Boat Signal Lamp” produced in the late 1800’s into the early 20th century. Hand-made of solid brass it contains an early form “bulls eye” glass lens. The cylindrical lantern body has a hinged door pivoting on the right which holds the lens and closes on the left with a spring-loaded latch on the left. The lens is backed by a rotating light curtain controlled by a knob on the bottom front. The interior contains an oil font with wedge burner as the light source. In combination, this clever apparatus allowed the navigator to send visual Morse code signals by flashing light.

[its420somewhereworld]

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[fraugwinska]

Part 2 of the Alchemist series - No smut today,but I had this idea in my head and couldn't continue NOT writing it. And don't worry - those two will have time enough in Part 3 for some biological studies! :> TW: Emotional turmoils, Graphic depictions of torture and violence Read at your own discretion. As always minors - please exit to the right, DNI, this is an 18+ space

Your assistant flinched when you threw another rack of test tubes against the walls, the black, polished tiles to your feet covered in shards of glass and bubbling, oil-like liquids.

"M-Ma'am, please, ", she pleaded, kneading the pink, naked tail that peeked out of her lab coat nervously in her hands while she backed away as your grabbed the big Erlenmeyer flask still sitting over the bunsen burner, fizzing as if in mockery. "i-it's better than number 52. Isn't that progress...?"

Failed. Again, you had failed.

"Idiots call it progress...", You held the flask up, cold flames of renewed anger licking down your spine. "I call it A FUCKING DISGRACE!"

The rat demon squeaked when the glass crashed on the floor as you howled in frustration, the black gas that evaporated with a hiss and the dark purple flames the substance evoked enough to make her run out the door and out of the laboratory with a sob, the sound of her heels clicking in the hallway a grim farewell and final goodbye to a fairly good assistant.

You slumped back against a work bench and put your hands in the pockets of your coat, struggling with your breathing to calm down. The painful hunger in you scratched at your insides, this insatiable need that appeared ever since...

Ever since you returned to your laboratory that day, ever since your last encounter with the Radio Demon. The image of Alastor and his shadow flashing up in front of you. How you were deceived and subdued by him, outsmarted by him and most humiliating, how you had liked it. It should've left nothing but disdain and anger inside you, instead it left an aching want, a restless desire for filling the gaping hole of knowledge you had been faced with as well as your paradox craving for another fight ending inevitably into your submission. Defiant to do something about the latter, you had begun to at least try to satisfy the first.

You were usually okay with failure as part of the scientific progress. A failed experiment only meant an additional tool in your hand on your surefire way to success. But never did success seem so impossible to you. Every new try of recreating the shadows that had so efficiently overpowered you felt like a rerun of your previous one. You had exhausted your knowledge, rewritten the same hypotheses over and over and burned through five assistants since. These angry outbursts were so unlike you - but as the number of failed experiments rose so did your temper, and the higher your anger, the harder it became to concentrate.

Alastor haunted your mind, infiltrated your rationale with images of a teasing smile, flesh threatening to burst beneath black and sharp claws, burning red eyes staring at you from the wet heat of your core. You hadn't eaten in two weeks, hadn't slept in nearly as long, had spent all your waking hours locked away in here in a futile attempt of fleeing these emotions that were so obstructive to your work. You were obsessively reading your books, furiously rereading your notes, desperately starting test after test, trial after trial to try and satiate this thirst only to be left even more parched. You knew it wouldn't be long before you inevitably would have to drink, even if you knew it waould be poison.

"I can't go on like this..." you sighed into the deafening silence of your laboratory.

There was a certain pep in the Radio Demon's step as he walked through the streets of the Pentagram, humming to himself as sinners parted and hid away wherever he went. Alastor reached into the inside breast pocket of his overcoat, unfolding the little note that had sent him in high spirits and rereading it with impish glee.

'To: The Radio DemonRegarding: Our most recent encounter

Alastor, I hope this note will find you well. I'd like to discuss the possibility of a mutually beneficial arrangement regarding our personal and professional feud. If you agree to a meeting, a table at RAUM in the Entertainment District will be reserved tomorrow at 9 p.m. PST (Pride Standard Time)

Best Regards,The Alchemist'

He laughed to himself at the forced choice of words, the tenseness evident in every neatly drawn letter and the obvious refusal of showing even one hint of familiarity. He had known he'd just have to give the proverbial ball a little nudge - his little note so easily snuck into her lab coat by his shadow companion - and let it roll, patiently waiting long enough to see it finally crush the prideful, stubborn resistance of the little sinner known as The Alchemist in the end. Although, he had to admit it took longer than he had expected.

His spies had been useful in keeping track of her ego crumbling - the chimp, roach and gerbil sinners that she hired as assistants all painted him the same picture - that the poor woman descended more and more into restless obsession by trying day and night to solve the mystery of his shadowy companion. The last one of her henchmen, a meek little rat girl, added a curious detail to the usual report that had Alastor's self-confidence booming: That, on the rare occasion that she fell asleep on her workbench, the Alchemist seemed to writhe and whimper - calling out a name.

His name.

He could hear it, her voice, the usual dismissive contempt replaced with poorly repressed desire and urgency, breathing his name while rendered helpless and at the mercy of his hands and tongue. What a rush it had been, to see his rival and latest person of interest fall apart under his doing, breaking her stoic and methodical facade to reveal the raw and weak creature she was deep down. What a divine image, seeing the haughty, refractory Alchemist beneath him, squirming and gasping and panting beneath his touch that she begged for, seeing and feeling her whole body turn against her, reduced to a groaning heap. How delicious it had tasted, not just her, but the satisfaction in knowing he'd forever carry the taste of her and his victory.

But when the moment approached to end her, to finally wipe her off the face of hell, it spoiled in his mouth, turning from sweet into bitter. He had planned it to be his grand finale: To kill her after showing her blatant inadequacy compared to him, bound by his shadow and thoroughly humiliated - But he found himself unable to.

Rosie was the only one he told about that day, and her reply to his retelling had him brooding ever since.

"You know, Alastor - The only difference between hate and love is that hatred doesn't fear the death of the one at our mercy."

He had almost cursed at his oldest friend. The ridiculous idea alone was unsettling. Alastor never had interest in the concept of loving something or someone - he had felt no need to either. The methods he used were chosen due to this wretched urge he felt every time she had crossed his path. He hadn't been unfamiliar with these emotions stirring in him - but the intensity of them had him struggle, had him furious at the effect she had on everything that made him the powerful, ruthless overlord that he had become. To think this unhealthy fascination with her powers, how riled up and agitated he got just seeing her in her resulote disinterest in power or status, the joy he felt sparring with her as she held her fort against him had been anything other than feelings of rivalry. But hell had a habit of twists like this - that what he thought was hatred turned out just the opposite. He still wasn't certain how he'd handle this predicament, but her note had been the perfect catalyst to explore the potential this little change held for him.

Just as the clock tower of Pride's main city began to strike nine, his destination so close - Something wrapped around his ankles and wrists, and hadn't Alastor been so lost in his thoughts he would've had enough time and mind to dodge the cables that had slithered towards him. A second too late he realized just what building he was in front of, before he was violently dragged by the electrified strings, out of the street and into the darkness behind the blue sliding doors of 'VoxTech Enterprises'.

"I thought" he heard a familiar, suave voice resounding in the pitch black darkness around him as the doors slid close, dripping of malicious glee that had Alastor furious behind his smiling mask "that with old age comes wisdom, Al. Seems you've skipped that phase and went straight to senile."

Alastor heard Vox's laugh, amplified from every direction. His hands and feet were spread apart, leaving him hanging with no sense of direction or solid ground beneath him. Without light, summoning his shadow was a useless endeavor - one of the only things Alastor regrettably shared with what was once a trusted partner not too long ago. And the only light was the laughably negligible red glow of his eyes, losing the battle against the black void around him. His best bet was to be buying time, so he decided to humor the fool until chance would show itself.

"Ah, no, I do quite remember your lack of imagination when it comes to these sorts of affairs." Alastor chuckled, a slight static distortion lacing his voice as the anger within him grew. "Glad to see that's at least one thing that hasn't changed."

Electricity burst from the wires that pulled him even further apart, sending shockwaves through him as Alastor's smile widened at Vox's inability to hide his rage.

"Mighty cocky for someone who's got his ass on the line, eh, old pal?" in the distance, a screen turned on, dim and flickering, showing the face of the smirking tv demon. "Tell me, Al, was it just stupidity that brought you right to my doorstep? Or did you already miss me that much?"

Alastor laughed mockingly, concentrating enough to at least create a shadow in the weak light around Vox's screen to smash it in before it dsappeared. "If I recall correctly, you were the one begging me not to leave, Voxxy. How is your face these days, by the way?"

The screen flickered as Vox's eyes went wild. "You motherf-"

"As to what brought me to these parts of our illustrious city," Alastor continued, gritting his teeth as another surge of electricity shot down his spine, making his shoulders jerk painfully in the tight cable's grip. "I was on my way to meet someone who is actually worth my while."

"Oh yeah? Well, they can send me a Thank-You-Note for saving them the disappointment your 'while' would've brought them." Vox sneered, a mocking smile appearing on the broken screen as he bared his teeth in a snarl. "Face it - You're done, Al. Finished. You can't do shit in here. I created this room specifically for you to die in - thanks for the intel, by the way. And believe me - I could kill you here and now, get rid of a fucking nuisance for everybody, and be called a hero for it. But for old time's sake, I'll offer you my deal once more." His joints cracked under the pressure of the pulling cables, and Alastor yanked in cold fury at them. Vox's voice was saturated with sadistic glee. "Join my team, be my second in command, my real partner this time and not a fucking uptight coward, and I'll spare you the humiliation of a slow, torturous and publicly viewed dea..."

A sudden boom had the cables and the screen shake and flicker, the image of Vox's face breaking up in pixels. Alastor felt his chest filling with a sudden eager anticipation of what - or who - the source of that explosion might've been. With a hiss, Vox's screen was restored to full resolution again, but his eyes were wide in confusion. "What the fuck was that?"

Alastor's laughter echoed across the room as another, louder explosion followed, along with panicked screams of pain and horror and he smiled over to the shocked overlord, heart beating with feverish euphoria. If the intensity of the detonations were any indicator, he was about to see a marvelous show of what true power looked like.

"It seems, old pal, that my date has arrived."

Vox didn't get to say anything else before one of the walls burst into its components and the room filled with the bright light of the neon signs illuminating the district, and amidst the clouds of dust settling, stood his darling alchemist. Her lab coat was stained in every beautiful shade of red, face and skin smeared with soot and the remnants of blood that wasn't hers, a look in her eyes that was so unhinged it made him shudder with all kinds of arousal, the aura around her glowing in a dangerous toxic green. Although her chest was heaving, there was no trace of exhaustion to her, only pure, cold rage.

"What the hell is going on? And who the fuck are you?!"

She didn't pay Vox any attention, walking up to Alastor as he ripped the remaining bits and pieces of cords and cables from his arms, her heels clacking loudly on the polished concrete floor.

"You are right on time, darling."

"And you were not - our table was canceled." Alastor had to refrain himself from giggling in feverish excitement as she walked past him, towards the stunned television demon that had been thrown into the back of the room by the force of the explosion and now leaned with his back against the wall, his expression mortified behind the cracked, flickering screen.

“Polyethylene, glass, sauter, copper, lead, platinum, silicone." Her voice was cold and calculating, each word a step closer and Vox shrunk away further into the wall behind him. Her face was neutral, a mask devoid of emotion and any trace of empathy or emotion, but her eyes sparkled full of life and fire. "But even though there are so many valuable building blocks in your electronic equipment - I can't say I appreciate the use."

She put her palm over Vox's monitor in an almost comforting gesture, her lips curling into a cruel smile as his casing started to melt and Vox screamed.

"Especially when it leaves me hungry and waiting for my dinner partner."

Alastor marveled at the beauty and precision of her strength and the effortless way she wielded it, her mind calculating every atom of Vox's technology, rendering the presumptous perfection of hell's television and phone industry to a wailing mess, his limbs and body twitching helplessly at the mercy of her touch, screen flickering with increasing speed the more damage she did. His pulse quickened, blood rushed deafeningly loud through his ears - She was dangerous and cruel and she was perfect, she was everything and so, so much more of anything he imagined and hoped her to be.

She let off Vox, his face half gone, his remaining speakers whimpering in agony and body trembling as she stood upright, looking down at the demon in disgust.

"Repeat this mistake and I will make sure I'll be there to slowly and painfully disintegrate you every time you start to respawn anew, Television Demon."

Alastor appeared beside her, making use of his shadows now that the requirement of light was covered, looking at the beaten form of his unfortunate rival with an amused laugh before taking his little alchemist's hand, breathing a kiss onto it with a smile.

"I apologize for the missed reservation, darling, but we can't have you left starving, can we? How about we relocate to my townhouse - I'll whip up a nice Pain Perdu while we discuss your... proposal, yes?"

When her face turned to him, her features slightly softened around the edges - barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but all too obvious to him, who had thought, dreamt and obsessed over her likeness enough times to see every tiny shift in her expression, even those one could interpret as her rare, discreet show of joy.

"I suppose that's an acceptable compromise."

It made the gnawing hunger inside him become all the more insatiable when she let him pull her closer, her hand still in his - warm and stained with remnants of Vox's fluids. He gave her the brightest of smiles as the destroyed room filled with radio static and his shadows swirled and wrapped themselves around them, shooting his wounded, rancorous ex-companion a sneering smile.

"I, again, have to disrespectfully decline your offer, my dear Vox. I'd rather invest my time into more..." He looked back at her, giving her an intense, heated gaze he refused to hide anymore, and the smile lingering on her lips growing into one that was just as sharp as his, and yet so much more endearing given its rarity. "...innovative propositions, I think is the right word."

Within a moment, the black swirls faded into the night, leaving nothing but the echo of his laughter and the shuddering, crying mess of the tv overlord behind.

Tagging for scientific purposes (based on comments/reblogs): @minkdelovely @macabr3-barbi3 @depressinglyobsessed @tywrites @mydickisjuicy

@littlebluefishtail @catticora @cosmiccandydreamer @anngray1369 @angeldustharmony

@jurijyuu @liz776 @selenezq

[thedirtybeanlife]

If you’re down for it could you write a chubby nb reader x Rudy or Alejandro? (Can be SFW or NSFW I don’t mind pookie)

(ofc! it's a little short, but i hope you enjoy!! <33)

Alejandro x Reader

You stand in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for tonight's dinner. Alejandro had been at work since early this morning, way before the sun had risen. Knowing he would be hungry, you ran out to the store and bought the things to make his favorite meal; carne asada, homemade flour tortillas, and fresh pico de gallo. Quickly working, you take the steak that has been marinating since this morning out of the fridge and place it on the counter.

Walking outside, you open the lid of the grill and throw the meat onto the hot rack, closing the lid again and bringing everything else outside and place it on the counter surrounding the grill from a safe distance, making a makeshift outdoor kitchen. After placing everything down, you start chopping the red onion, cilantro, tomatoes, and a jalapeño to make the fresh pico de gallo. You carefully squeeze in some lime juice from a fresh lime and mix it all together, covering it and sitting it aside.

Just as you go to start preparing to make the homemade tortillas with the dough you had made a little bit ago, you hear footsteps approaching you making you look up with a smile.

"Huele increíble aquí, mi amor," Alejandro says with a smile as he walks over to you and wraps his arms around you, effortlessly picking you up like you weigh nothing making you blush slightly. Even after all these years together, you struggled with accepting his affection when it came to your physical appearance.

"I figured you've had a long day, so I'm making your favorite," you say with a grin as he holds you in his strong arms, your feet still not touching the ground below.

"Carne Asada, huh? You know me so well, mi cielito," he laughs before placing a kiss to your lips and putting you back down, moving to lean against the counter your working on.

You smile happily up at him, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek before going back to rolling out the flour tortillas and placing them on a tea towel carefully. You then put a cast iron skillet on the burner of the grill, heating it up and oiling it slightly so the dough doesn't stick.

"I was also thinking i could make you and the boys some dulce de leche mousse this weekend for the gathering Rudy has planned," you offer sweetly.

"I think everyone would love that, baby," he smiles and nods as he watches you, "Do you want any help?"

"Absolutely not. This is my treat to you. You work too hard all day to have to come home and make dinner too," you scold playfully, swatting him away with your dish towel as he tries to step in and help.

He laughs as you swat him away and puts his hands up in mock surrender, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and placing his chin on it after. Alejandro runs his large hands under your apron and shirt, his calloused fingers gently grabbing at your plump flesh and caressing it as he runs his fingers along your curves whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you work.

Within thirty minutes, everything is done and Alejandro insisted he at least could set the table. After a few minutes of trying to tell him no, you give up and he happily walks inside to grab plates and silverware for the table. You carry all of the food inside in two trips and place it in respect places on the kitchen table.

"Dios mío, mi amor. esto se ve increíble," Alejandro gapes at the food as he watches you set it down.

You laugh at his reaction and grab two glasses, pouring some wine into each, handing him one and putting yours down on the table. You pile food on his plate before sitting down and doing the same to yours. He digs in immediately, moaning around a mouthful of steak and tortilla, nodding before swallowing and going in for another large bite.

"Calm down, Alejandro!" you laugh, "It's not going anywhere. you're going to choke, Baby." your smile widens as you look at him from across the table.

"Amor, this is simply the best thing you've ever made," he says in astonishment.

"Ale, honey, you say that every time i make it," you laugh softly and take a bite of your food, eating at a slower pace than Alejandro so you don't choke.

"And I mean it every time," he says seriously around mouthful of food, manners fully forgotten as he savors every bite.

Later that evening, after everything's been cleaned and leftovers are put in the fridge, you and Alejandro sit on the couch, watching a random western movie he had put on, neither of you paying any mind to it as you lay in each others arms, talking about your days and what you did. His fingers run through your hair as you cuddle into his chest under the fuzzy blanket draped over both of you. With his other hand, he slowly runs his hand up and down your back under your shirt, his nails grazing comfortingly over your soft skin.

"i love you, Ale," you say softly, placing a kiss to his jawline.

"I love you more, mi amor," Alejandro responds with a grin, placing a kiss to your lips.

The two of you spend the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch, simply basking in the comfort you bring each other, never more content than in this moment.

[niki-phoria]

a may be a short fic for like jay leaving the house and m/n tried to cook but accidentally burnt it and caught by jay then end up jay helping m/n while he was back hugging m/n hehe

pairing: jay x male!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 678

includes: established relationship, changed this slightly to just jay helping reader learn how to cook, sorry if this is messy i wasn't really sure how to write the actual cooking part lol

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

you push your phone onto your bedside table before turning to lay on your side. you softly smile to yourself as you study the boy laying next to you. jay’s messy fringe perfectly frames his face - still damp from the shower he had taken earlier. a thin pair of glasses sits on the bridge of his nose. one of your old t-shirts hangs loosely off of his broad shoulders. 

“you’re doing that thing again,” he murmurs. you silently watch as he sets his phone down before turning to face you. 

“what thing?” you chuckle.

“the puppy dog eyes you only do when you want me to do something for you.”

a gasp of faux offense escapes you. you dramatically roll onto your back, bringing a hand up to cover your heart. “you always assume the worst of me,” you huff.

“okay, okay,” jay laughs. he shifts even closer to you, leaning over your body to look down at you. “i’m sorry, baby. what do you need?”

“i’m hungry. will you help me make dinner? please?”

jay smiles brightly. he leans down to pull you into a sweet peck before he nods. “of course, love. come on.” you intertwine your hands together as you follow him into your kitchen. “what do you want to make?”

“japchae.” he smiles at your enthusiasm, helping you grab a variety of leftover vegetables and meat from the fridge. you set a pot of water to boil on the stove before slowly adding the noodles in to cook for a few minutes. the thin noodles swirl around when you stir them with a large, wooden spoon before putting the lid back onto the pot.

“y/n,” jay’s soft voice catches your attention. a cutting board and knife sit on your countertop near the sink. a variety of vegetables lay surrounding them on the counter. “come here.”

his arms snake around your waist from behind as you move to stand in front of the cutting board. he leans his head down to rest against your shoulder, carefully observing each of your movements. “let me know if you need any help,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. 

you hum as you reach over to grab an onion. it rolls slightly along the cutting board as you slice a piece of the onion out of the side before peeling the first few layers of skin off. “how do i dice it?” 

“here,” jay smiles, reaching over to put his hands on top of yours. “use your knuckles to guide the knife so you don’t cut yourself.”

you let him maneuver your hands into the correct position before slowly guiding the knife down to hit the plastic cutting board below. you cut the onion into thin slices before turning them so you can cut the slices horizontally. “like that?” you ask.

“that’s perfect,” jay smiles. he slips away from behind you to turn the stove off before draining the water from the pot. he sets a frying pan over the still-heated burner before adding a small drop of oil into the center. the noodles sizzle when they hit the pan.

you use the knife to gather the diced onion between the blade and your hand before dropping them onto the noodles. jay smiles, nodding in approval. “do you want to do the rest while i make the sauce?”

“okay,” you nod. you carefully replicate the movements jay had taught you previously, gliding the blade into bell peppers and tofu until they were cut into small pieces. you’re nearly dancing around the kitchen beside jay as you work in tandem to add each new ingredient into the stir fry. 

“here,” jay pauses, using his chopsticks to fish out a few of the noodles. he holds a hand underneath your chin as he blows on them before raising the food up to your lips. “is it good?”

he chuckles when you perk up at the taste, frantically nodding. “it’s delicious,” you smile. 

jay reaches over to press a kiss against your temple. “that’s because you helped make them.” 

personal note: fics might be coming out as fast/more focused on what i have inspiration to write in the moment for now. i've been stuck in a cycle of dysphoria and depression lately that's really impacted my motivation and my mental health lately as well as just general stress. i hope to start writing more frequently soon but until then thank you for all of the support <33

[scotianostra]

On December 1st 1787, the first modern lighthouse in Scotland was lit at Fraserburgh.

Made by Thomas Smith and Robert Stevenson at Kinnaird Head, the lighthouse was built on top of a 16th-century castle, and is now Scotland’s Lighthouse Museum.Kinnaird Head near Fraserburgh, built on an 16th Century castle, was the first lighthouse to be put into operation by the Commissioners of Northern Lights, and sustained the most powerful lamps of their time.

The lamps were 17 whale oil filled burners and were said to be visible from 14 miles away.The lighthouse was constructed by Thomas Smith and his son in law Robert Stevenson, grandfather of author Robert Louis Stevenson, with a lantern set at a 120 feet above the sea on a corner of Kinnaird Head Castle. Each oil-burning lamp was backed by a parabolic reflector and arranged in three horizontal lines to produce a powerful beam for seamen working some of the toughest waters in Europe.

Previously, coal fires had generally been used to guide sailors to safety. Mr James Park, a ship’s master, was appointed “Keeper of the light” at 1/- per night, The appointment was made on condition he had another person with him at the lighthouse every night, who he was to instruct in cleaning the lanterns and lighting the lamps. Whale oil was brought to Kinnaird Head by Smith, a tin smith of Broughty Ferry, which was a major whaling port of the day.

In 1824, a new lighthouse tower was built within the original castle tower with Robert Stevenson building a new lantern and reflector array.

In 1929, another first was recorded for Kinnaird Head when it took possession of a radio beacon. During WWI, enemy bombers struck the lighthouse only once despite repeated, heavy bombardments on the surrounding area due to Fraserburgh’s ammunition works. Records show that on 19 February 1941, two bombs from an aircraft exploded 50 yards from the Lighthouse Buildings. Damage included 41 panes of broken glass.

The Wine Tower at the lighthouse is the only surviving remnant of the old castle, and in fact is the oldest building in all Fraserburgh. Legend tells us that Isobel the daughter of Alexander Fraser, 8th laird of Philorth had fallen in love with a servant piper, and that the laird was not happy about this. So to separate the two the laird had the piper tied-up in the cave under the Wine Tower known as Selches Hole (Seals Hole). The laird then locked-up his daughter in the uppermost floor of the tower and retired to Kinnaird Castle.

Unfortunately for the servant there was an abnormally high tide due to a storm, and the poor man drowned. When Isobel the laird’s daughter was informed of her lover’s fate, she was distraught and committed suicide by jumping from the top of the tower onto the rocks below. The rock that she fell on is still painted red to this day. It is said that Isobel is seen prior to bad weather, and when the weather is bad it is said that you can hear the skirl of the pipes being played by the ghost of the piper for his lost love