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lightwing-s · 9 months

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑

pairing: dick grayson x fem! reader

summary: as an intern at the police department you should know how to separate work from personal life, but when officer dreamy comes after you, you can't help it but mix them together

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,2k warnings: unprotected sex, cum eating, handjob (f receiving), slight overstimulation, a lot of pinning for each other

a/n: i gave up proof reading halfway because i was sleepy, so it might be okay at first and then become messy. sorta base on my experience working at a police precinct earlier this year, but not faithful (at all) to reality.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

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Jumping off the last step down the bus, you rush into the streets, swerving through the crowds, bumping against people, getting sworn at by some, and somehow managing your way through the busy mess that was Gotham’s early mornings.

The headphones glued to your ear were the only thing trying to distract you from all the chaos that was the start of your day, but as the shuffle merged bossa nova into 2000s punk rock, you felt your body react and jump into a faster pace on your way to work. Within each step, the Greek columns of the old imposing building of the Gotham City’s Police Department grew bigger in the horizon, letting you know your commute was close to its end.

Beep beep, your watch announced the start of your shift. Damn it, you were late again. Trying to speed up your steps, you felt your calves start to burn, but the building soon was right in front of you, a couple of steps separating you both.

“Good morning, Yn.” greeted one of the officers, as you passed by him in a rush, as you made your way up the large steps without somehow managing to trip as he was bound somewhere else, already deep into the rash routine of being a police officer at the country’s most dangerous city.

Bursting through the doors, you look around to see if your supervisor, officer McCaffrey, was anywhere near. He hated you and had been on your ass since you started arriving a bit later than you were supposed to, a move further away from the precinct ruining your commute times.

Not seeing his growing bald head anywhere around, you jump ahead and find your way to your desk, stacked with piles and piles of papers, old cases handed to you to be typed and launched into this new software funded by Mr. Bruce Wayne.

Interning at a police station wasn’t exactly a part of your meticulously drawn up plan to get into law school, as law enforcement was on the far bottom of your list of possible careers to choose for your future. However, from day one you were surprised by how much you enjoyed working at the department, by how much you enjoyed the people, both your co-workers and, weirdly, the criminals you got to meet on a daily basis.

Sometimes it was too much, juggling school work and the internship, plus all the side hustles you had to take just to make it through college without starving to death. But it all had its good sides. Sometimes, some really good ones.

Placing your bag over the pile of cases, you were about to go around your desk and sit down on the rather uncomfortable chair to start typing those damned cases away, when the rough voice of the main antagonist of this current season of your life reached your ears.

“Miss, Ys,” your supervisor called. Rolling your eyes, you forced yourself to remain still, a lot of effort put into not throwing your head back in defeat as you turned around to meet face of your tormentor for the first time that day. “Thought you started your program at…” he dragged himself out, looking at his clock. “Exactly fifteen minutes ago.”

“Hello, officer McCaffrey.” you forced out a smile while greeting him. “Well, I was here fifteen minutes ago, you must have missed me.”

You confidently tried to lie, hoping the time spent with suspected criminals had taught you something, but being sure your face must have told him the opposite of what you meant. “I’m pretty sure I looked all over for you.”

“Are you sure?” you feigned innocence when trying once more.

“Miss Yn, this is a serious institution and if you’re not going to cooperate by doing your job properly I’m sorry to inform you that…”

“You won’t need it, Christian.” a deeper voice cut your supervisor off as he started to scold you again. The voice, a tone you could easily identify from how much you’d heard it and dreamed of it in the past few months. “I stopped Miss Yn outside for a talk. I did not think there would be any problem.”

Sounding much more confident in his lie than you did, you were sure you could’ve fallen for it if it wasn’t of you he was talking about.

“Officer Grayson, Miss Ys has got a job to finish, she doesn’t need to go around having conversations with what I imagine are busy policemen.” officer Tormentor replied, not even caring to turn around and face the other voice’s owner, disdain covering each and everyone of his words.

“We were just discussing a case, it’s not that big of a deal. Right, Yn?” Officer Grayson called you by your first name along with a wink, the remaining energy left from not rolling your eyes at officer McCaffrey earlier keeping you from melting at how sweet your name sounded coming out of his mouth.

McCaffrey finally turned to face your white night in a white button-up, only his back in your line of view now as you were still paralyzed in your spot, the image of Officer Grayson trapping your attention from anything else in the precinct.

“Dick,” your supervisor continued, the name sounding off of him like an annoyance. ”You’re not supposed to share confidential information with the students.” He told him bitterly.

“Aren’t they here to learn about our job, Christian?” Officer Grayson replied, the same annoyance playing on his tongue, but at the same time full of an uplifting fun only Dick Grayson could master and that you were sure only annoyed Christian more.

Facing the sudden silence between you three, you noticed Officer Grayson’s eyebrow raising, challenging his fellow officer to complain about you one more time.

“Sure, but…”

“I was doing just that, making sure Yn’s internship actually brings some value to her future.” Grayson cut him once more. “No sensitive information was shared, just the look of an investigation through a detective’s eye. And even so, miss Yn is one of the most competent interns we’ve had in a while and I’m sure she would’ve been able to keep any information she might’ve gotten. I’m sure talking with actual officers is much more beneficial than typing old cases into a system.”

Silence overcame you three again, Grayson’s words having a certain impact on you. Your shoes, stained and in desperate need of a wash, suddenly became interesting as you lowered your face to hide the burning red on your cheeks. The insides of your lips were chewed on, stopping the smile from spreading on your face.

Finally looking up, your eyes briefly met Officer Grayson’s, but you moved away quickly, afraid of what they might’ve done to you.

Officer McCaffrey opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, his mind certainly trying to muster a comeback to Grayson’s defense of you but clearly failing to do so. His eyes moved from you to his coworker, and you wondered what was going through his head.

Whatever it was, it would never live up to Officer Dick Grayson. He just never would.

“Very well,” McCaffrey finally spoke, turning to face you with a displeased expression. “Get on with your typing.”

Turning on his heel, McCaffrey walked away from the two of you, the hardness of his hips making his walk look funny and with the bald spot growing in his head the both of you let out a soft chuckle.

Resting your butt on the desk behind you, the need of formality gone with your supervisor, you took this time to eye up the man left with you.

That man didn’t have a bad looking day, showing up like a greek god every single day at work. He wore his usual white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows and exposing his thick forearms, built effortlessly at the gym - you were sure -, and decorated with veins you secretly wanted to map with your fingertips.

He wore gray pants today, a color he often varied with either dark blue, black or beige, but the latter, thankfully, becoming rarer with each passing day. It didn’t compliment him, making his look rather boring in your opinion, nor did it match well with any of his shoes, probably more expensive than anything you owned.

His badge and gun hang on his hips, held on the black belt made of the most sophisticated leather in the world, or so you’d bet. He seemed to take good care of himself, as not only his skin glistened like a glazed donut, but he exuded a strong woody smell, following him along to every room he entered.

However, the lack of a tie and the untidy hair signaled to you he might’ve been just as late as you were. And still, he looked majestic. The highlight of your long hours at the precinct.

“Hello, officer Grayson.” you greeted him shyly. You certainly should not have spent too much of your days simply just watching him go on about his work, but it was a habit you had created and that was hard not to do, his simple presence was enough to overwhelm you.

“Good morning, Yn. Haven’t had an easy morning, I see?” he raised his eyebrow at you this time, a playful smiling playing on his face.

“You too, right?” slipped out of your mouth quicker than you’d wished, almost slapping your face out of sheer frustration.

His head bent to the side, a question forming on his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, but soon returning to the playful expression you were used to. “I see your detective skills have been improving.”

“I-I just noticed you’re not wearing a t-tie like you usually do and your hair seems messy, that’s all.” you said without pausing for air and his smile only seemed to grow.

“Relax, Yn,” he dragged out. “I just had to stay up till late last night. What’s your excuse?”

“Commuting has been hell. I just moved to a new apartment.” you told him, nodding for absolutely no reason. He didn’t seem pleased with your answer, eagerly waiting for you to continue. “At the Amusement Mile.”

“Amusement Mile?!” he exclaimed. “That’s basically on the other side of the city.”

Yep, you worded, or not. You were not sure.

“And really dangerous, Yn.” he sounded worried. “Make sure to not leave too late, okay?”

“I’ll try.” you replied, but he still didn’t seem pleased. “I promise?”

You were not sure what kind of tone this conversation had. You and Officer Grayson had always been friendly, as he always came by your desk to wish you a good day or night, to bring you coffee as he did with his coworkers, or to ask you about how classes were going and if the internship wasn’t getting in the way of your studies.

It all sounded friendly to you, as if he only saw you as a younger sister or something like that. Sadly to you, that seemed to be a reality. But today, the friendliness sounded less friendly, for some reason, or maybe they were just the voices of hope playing with your mind.

“Good, I’ll have to work now, and I think so do you. Having fun with typing?”

“It really could be worse.” You joked, bringing out a laugh from him, filling your ears and making your heart pump faster.

“Have a nice day, Yn.”

“You too, officer.” you eagerly replied, watching as he too walked away from you.

Finally sitting down on your chair, you let out a huge sigh, Officer Dreamy, as you kindly nicknamed him to yourself, stuck in your head. You knew it was inappropriate to harvest a crush on a superior at work, but gosh was it hard to.

“And Yn?” his voice startled you.

“Hmm” you managed to hum as you found his head poking out from behind a wall.

“Call me Dick.”

Lights went off one by one around you, as you still sat on your desk, files of cases long forgotten, while you typed in a class project you were due very soon.

As life worked conspired to put you down, your laptop had given up on you, deciding that the smokey life was the way to go now and simply choosing not to work ever again. So, you had to stick around the precinct or the library till the wee hours of the night if you wanted to get any uni work done.

“Yn” a voice called you, starling you out of your seat. “Still here?”

Officer Grayson, looking as tired as you must have looked, made his way to your desk. In his hands, some papers you’d come to know were cases he took frequently to study at home.

“I have to finish an essay.” you informed, voice almost not making it out, as you had neglected your health and hadn’t gotten a single sip of water all day.

“What happened to your computer? I remember you bringing one before.”

“Decided to give out smoke signals, I guess.” you joked, managing to steal a smile from him. “It broke, and I’m too broke to fix it, so I have to stay here if I want to finish this essay tonight.”

Your eyes itched from the extensive exposure to the computer lights, your back also causing you discomfort. But you still had work to do, so there was no way you were leaving any time soon, and quickly you returned your attention to your essay ignoring, for once, your favorite male presence in the precinct as you didn’t want to miss the peak of energy and creativity you had gotten to.

As you typed unaware of his lingering presence, Officer Grayson stood by your desk for a while, watching as you swiftly typed word after word of your homework. “You aren’t going to stay here till too late, right?”

“I’m not sure.” you moaned, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands. “I really have to finish this but I’m not even close.”

Returning your gaze to him, you found his eyes and they bore into your, making your breath get caught up in your throat and your heart to skip a beat. You wanted to focus on your school work and go home, get some much needed sleep before starting your routine all over again, but Dick’s mere presence pushed away all your academic thoughts.

It was like his body irradiated an energy, a gravity field, that pulled you in from wherever you were. That trapped your attention, leaving you breathless even though you hadn’t run, leaving your head heavy as the most painful headache, leaving you completely, deeply, under his spell.

As you focused on him, you noticed the bags forming under his eyes and his much messier hair, as if he had, and he did, spent hours running his fingers through it as an attempt to concentrate. His clothes were ruffled, and you swore his belt seemed to have been loosed at some point during the day.

To you, he was like a painting at an art gallery. Exquisite, expensive, beautifully breathtaking… and forever unreachable.

On a scale from one to ten, you were minus forty in the levels of importance inside the department. Nobody really cared for the interns. They were nice and all, but they knew they wouldn’t last long, so why bother connecting, why bother giving them too much attention. And yet, officer Grayson would come over to you, every single day, saying his “his” and “goodbyes”, wishing you a good morning, a good night, a great weekend.

He was truly a being out of this world. A gentleman amongst mere humans, too kind, too sweet for this world, for this city. You often wondered how the hell did he, the son of a billionaire, end up working with the police, and the answered you always came up with was that he must have been the only truly good and altruistic person alive, opting to care for the people instead of being a pretentious heir like many others.

If he had looked over at your computer screen, he’d have found a soup of words that together made zero sense, as your mind couldn’t only write Dick Dick Dick Dick, in both meanings of the word.

“A-hem.” he coughed breaking your awkward stare competition. “I have to get going, Yn. Please don’t stay up too late, and message me when you get home.”

“I don’t have your number.” you mindlessly blurted out.

“I have yours,” he stated, catching you off guard. “I’ll text you. See you tomorrow?” he asked, seeming actually interested in a positive answer.

“Uh-huh.”

“See you, then. Goodbye, Miss Ys.”

“Goodbye, officer.”

It was past midnight when you eventually turned off your computer and headed out of the police department. Sleepiness weighs your body down, making each step a harder task than it should've been.

Saying your goodbyes to the officers working the night shift, many of those telling you to be careful as they feared the dangerous Gotham nights would turn you into one more of its victims, you made your way down the large set of steps, an activity much easier than climbing them in the morning.

As you step into the sidewalk you’re embraced by the darkness. The cold breeze hitting you, making you wrap your jacket tightly around your body, a shield from the freezing weather and the demons of the night. Your bag is glued to your hips and your eyes scanning the area for any strange movement.

You’re glad some of those police officers had been kind enough to teach you how to realize some signs before anything bad happens, applying it to your everyday life as you could never be sure of your surroundings in this city.

When you turned right on the first corner, a moving shadow had your neck hairs up and a shiver running up your spine. Your fight or flight instincts overcoming you as your steps grew faster and faster.

“Yn, wait!” you heard the shadow owner scream, your heart skipping a beat before your mind could make up the situation. It took you a while to figure out who the scream belonged to, the fear blinding your senses and preventing you from forming any type of judgment, but something in you clicked and upon turning around it everything was all made clear.

“Officer Grayson?” you questioned, confused by his appearance as he had gone home almost two hours earlier. He now wore a pair of dark gray or black sweatpants, the faint light hindering your perception, a black t-shirt and a thick overall to shield him from the cold. The tips of his hair dripped with a few droplets of water, and even in the darkness you could make up his red nose gifted by the freezing weather.

He looked cozy, huggable, like a plushie pillow you hugged to go to bed. This look on him made your chest warm up and you swore you wouldn’t need a jacket soon.

“Why are you following me? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Yn. I thought it’d be better if I didn’t scream, but maybe I was wrong,” he apologized, rushing the words out of his mouth.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here.” you smiled, unable to hide the joy from seeing him again. Your smile made him feel less bad for scaring you, but his eyes still looked into yours like he apologized for it.

“I didn’t get your text.” he said, his statement confusing you a little. “That you were going home?”

Oh, that! It was your turn to feel bad, your cheeks, if possible for him to see, painted red but not from the coldness.

“I was expecting your text and didn’t get it, so I showered and came here to see if you’d gone home and I found you still in your computer. I was waiting for you to come out.”

YOU WERE WAITING FOR ME?!, you wanted to scream, his words making your head spin, trying to work out the reason why they came out of his pretty lips. The idea of him waiting for god knows how long till you finished your essay making you dizzy.

“It didn’t feel right letting you go home alone at this hour.” he continued to explain, seemingly aware of the questions inside your head. “So I came back after taking a shower to pick you up.”

HE CAME BACK. HE WENT HOME. TOOK A SHOWER, A SHOWER HE PROBABLY, DEFINITELY, TOOK NAKED. AND CAME BACK TO PICK ME UP????

Oh lord, your head was truly spinning and you hoped you weren’t dizzy enough to end up falling and making a fool of yourself. No single sentence was merged in your mind, your lips blurting out whatever overcame them without any filter: “The subway isn’t empty.”

He chuckled at your silly response and reaching for his coat’s pocket, he picked up his car keys, shaking them in front of your eyes. “Are you declining a ride home? Thought you’d love to ride in a Porsche tonight.”

At the sound of “Porsche”, you let out an excited giggle. You always wanted to find out what car Dick drove, a man’s choice of vehicle being a way into understanding his lifestyle and tastes, and not only were you finding out now but you were also getting to ride in it with him.

“I think it’s an offer I can’t really let pass.”

Showing you the way to his car with his head, he let you walk past him, and when you did his hand met your waist as he guided you in its direction.

It was like you entered into another reality when you crossed the Police Department’s doors, meeting an Officer Dick Grayson that you always dreamed of but never expected to become a reality.

The warm touch of his hand on the small of your back gave you shivers along with a sense of safety not even a room full of police officers had given you. It was different, somehow, in a way you found hard to explain, but that made your heart beat nervously, your breathing to get hectic and your stomach to take turns.

Soon, the silvery car was beside you and the man opened the passenger door for you with his free hand. You thanked him and slid inside the car, the warmed leather seats a comfortable welcome after hours spent on the painful cheap chair by your desk, and when he closed the door you took the few seconds until he was sat beside you to at least try to recollect yourself.

Richard John Grayson isn’t just giving you a ride, he came all the way from his home to do so. You didn’t know where he lives, but it couldn’t be too close. He went out of his way to do that for you, and what that meant frightened you a little.

The warmness of the seats couldn’t compare to what his touch had made you feel. As his hand slid off of your skin you let out a low moan you hoped he didn’t have the time to listen to, already missing the feeling he had given you.

It made you both afraid, nervous and excited, and you couldn’t help the smile from spreading on your lips, even when biting down on them or chewing the insides of your cheeks. You sat still, spine straight and hands resting on top of your bag laid up on your lap, while he calmly walked to the driver’s side, the opposite reflection of how he made you feel.

“Amusement Mile?” he looked at you for confirmation, the engine of the car warming up. Your eyes were glued to his every movement, admiring every single breath he took.

You simply shook your head to answer, biting on your bottom lip in contemplation.

“It’s gonna be a long ride, so make yourself comfortable.” he told you before continuing. “And I almost forgot…”

Reaching for something behind your seat, you felt his breath on your neck, sending more shiver up your spine, a recurring thing tonight. “I got you some soup. To warm up.”

“Wow. Thank you, officer.”

“Yn?” he called you and you hummed, letting him continue. “What did I tell you to call me?”

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, remembering the moment you’d shared earlier. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Perfect.”

Turned just enough to face you, it was his time to bite on his lip, the sight sending your hormones to overdrive.

The ride was mostly silent, as you both felt comfortable in just each other’s presence. You drank your soup and he drove carefully to not make it spill. He left his playlist on shuffle and you commented on a few surprising tunes.

“I didn’t take you for a reggaeton kind of guy.”

“Hey, I appreciate the sounds of many different cultures!”

And faster than you had wished for, you two were parked by your front door.

“Thank you, offic… Dick, really. I would have taken at least double the time to arrive by subway, so I really cannot thank you enough for this, you really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense, I’m always here to help, and I wouldn’t sleep well knowing you could be in danger.”

For the 1000th time tonight, your cheeks grew scarlet and you avoided Dick’s eyes. The yawn coming out of you the perfect getaway from the situation you didn’t not know how to handle.

“I better get going, or else I’m just gonna take a nap before having to go back to the precinct all over again.” you sent him a smile before opening the door, but before you stepped outside you felt his hand touch you again, this time reaching for you tight.

“If you want to, I can pick you up tomorrow morning.” his thumb lightly drew patterns in your jeans, and you could feel a hit of sweat on the palm of his hands and the spot on your tight grew humid.

“It would be asking for too much.”

“No it wouldn’t.” he didn’t wait for you to finish. “I’d love to.”

He had your full attention, his eyes trapping yours in a drunken haze. The air around you got thicker, warmer, too hot, as if the winter night was just a mere illusion outside the car. You had sat back in your seat, not sure if the door was open or closed because only him mattered now, only his eyes drifting from yours to your lips, only his tongue moistening his own, only the slow movement of his head getting closer to yours.

You wouldn’t remember the next few seconds even if described to you in the smallest details, you just remember meeting his lips halfway. At first, a hasty kiss, your lips barely moving but already igniting you with an electric feeling. His teeth pulled on your bottom lip, causing a moan to escape off of you.

His hand went to your neck and the kiss deepened, his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, playing with yours as your hands found his waist in search for balance, even though you remained at your seat.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” you cut the kiss, your own mind betraying you with the words that flew out of your mouth. “But I really want to.”

“I don’t see why we shouldn't,” he said, connecting your lips once again.

He sucked and nibbled at your lips, certainly leaving small bruises on it, but who were you to complain. All night, your anxiousness tried to get the best of you, but his kiss and his touch held you hostage in a passionate haze.

“It’s dangerous to be on the streets this late.” he told you between kisses.

“We can go upstairs.” you offered, wanting to extend the moment as much as you could.

“I wouldn’t wanna bother your roommate.”

“I don’t have a roommate.” you informed, eyes meeting his once more in search of confirmation.

Kissing where your neck met your ears, he whispered. “I’ll park the car.”

“You can leave it right here.” you moaned, desperately wanting to move things inside. He chuckled, pulled you in for another kiss and then quickly jumped out of the car. He followed you as you climbed the stairs to your floor, managing to control himself and stay far enough as to not throw you against the walls and fuck you right then and there, but the gentleman inside of him held him together and he anxiously watched you unlock your apartment door.

You threw your bag somewhere, and walked inside your home aimlessly. You didn’t bring many guys over, so you always struggled to figure out what to do at this point.

“Yn.” you heard Dick calling, spinning on your heels to meet him.

Throwing his key on a table, he came over to you without wasting time, hands grabbing your face and smashing your lips together for a hotter, wetter, dirtier kiss.

His tongue sucked you yours as your hands traveled on his chiseled torso, sliding inside his shirt for the full experience. You scratch the skin with your nails and he quivered under your touch. “Fuck.” he let out, pushing you against the head of the sofa.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you shortened the distance between your bodies even more and his hands moved down your body, from your back to your ass, to your tight where he grabbed and entangled them around his waist. He placed you on top of the sofa, magically not letting your lips grow apart.

You could feel the bulge on his pants hardening with each touch, so you lowered one hand to cup his member in it’s entirety, but not managing to get a hold of half of it. Shit. You tried to pull at his waistband, but he pushed your hand away. “I’m not wasting time.” he said, taking you off of your seat. “I need to be inside you.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. The thought of his words becoming a reality soaking your panties more than they already were, as you had to grind on his clothed crotch to get the friction, the sensation you so desperately needed. You wanted him inside of you now, not a minute later.

“Your room?” he asked.

“First door to the right.” you said, gasping for air between his kisses.

With ease, he walked to your bedroom as if he knew you home by heart, and as if he didn’t carry a girl but just a stuffed toy. His only struggle came at the door handle, but reaching behind you you managed to open it up for him, a group effort for a group pleasure.

Dick let go of your legs, letting your feet hit the floor once again. His hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt, tugging at it before you broke the kiss to allow him to pull it over your head, your bra being ripped off your skin not much later. His shirt and sweatpants flew behind him too in just a few seconds, and he soon had you pinned on the bed, hands trapped by his on top of your head.

Dick had an urgency in him you’d never seen before, more used to his calm demeanor. He grunted on your ear as he sucked on your neck, leaving marks you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide at work, and he grinded his clothed dick on your bare pussy.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting this.” he groaned, one hand grabbing tightly at your boob. “Some days beside you were pure torture.”

You couldn’t imagine an Officer Dreamy having dreams about you, just like you did with him, but from the sound of it, he had plenty. All you could do was moan out his name, his mouth doing magic on your neck as his hands finally reached where you needed him more.

Rubbing slowly at your clit, you tried humping it, wanting it faster, wanting release, but his movements remained slow, torturous.

“D-dick.” you cried out his name, begging him to speed up his touch.

“Say it again, darling. Say it.” he requested. “Let my fucking name slip out of your dirty little mouth.”

“Dick. Dick, please!” you obeyed, little the silly little slut you were for him. If your friends or coworkers found out about this, they’d be very disapproving, they’d tell you it was wrong to fuck your superior, but fuck it, fuck him you will.

He moaned loudly in your ear and his movements gained speed. He rubbed at your clit harshly, making it bruise, but the pain only added to the growing sensation on your core. He lowered his head and his lip grabbed your nipple, and his sucks were enough to bring you to the edge.

“You came so hard for me, darling.”

Moving away from your skin, setting your hands free, he admired your cum glistening on his hands before bringing them to his mouth and licking it off his finger. “I knew you’d taste fucking delicious.”

This idea of him wanting to fuck you for so long did wonders to your ego and booted any confidence you still had. The man you so desperately wanted for so long had wanted you as desperately for just as long. Your heart beat so fast you were sure he could hear it, but you wanted him too, no secrets lying between you two anymore.

Without you noticing, his boxers were gone and his hard dick bounced on his crotch, the rosy tip, dripping with precum, staining his stomach. Lining up outside your entrance, rubbing his tip on your clit just to tease you a little more, his eyes met yours. They trapped you as they did inside the car, but now they didn’t stare at you with simple desire. It burned, it consumed him and needed to find a way to release it. And his way was you.

With no warning, he thrusted into you, his size ripping you open and you let out a scream as you prayed your neighbors were heavy sleepers. Dick, as soon as his member was fully within you, let out a guttural groan, the sexiest moan you’d ever heard come out of a man.

“F-fuck you’re so tight.” he moaned. “Just like I imagined.”

Lying on top of you, he met your lips, he wrapped your fingers in his and slid your hands to the top of your head again. His thrusts were fast, hard, reaching you deeper and deeper, taking out of you a scream louder than the other, only muffled by his mouth that refused to leave yours.

You wrapped your leg around his waist, wanting him to go deeper, if it was even possible, so consumed with lust that all logic melted out of your mind.

It wasn’t a fuck, it was love making, sensual and nearly animalistic love making, and the idea of it made the butterflies in your stomach go feral just as you were. If he loved you or not, even it was even something else more the pure lust, was a discussion for later, but he fucked you like no one else did, and you only hoped it was a sign he was not like the others. That he wasn’t just a single page in a large book.

The wet sound of your skins meeting each other filled the room, but only because your mouths were glued together, all sound not allowed to make it out.

“You’re taking me in so good, aren’t you Yn?”

“Yes, y-yes. You’re filling me so good.” you cried back.

“Are you gonna come on my dick, Yn? Are you gonna let me feel you coming?” he teased, nearly as desperate for your orgasm as you were.

“Yes.” you replied, louder than you’d wished. With a few more thrusts, you came all over his hard dick, your body shaking ferociously, reaching a high you’d never reached before. “Uuh, yes!” you screamed, as he continued to pump into you, his own orgasm imminent.

“I’m gonna come, Yn.” he announced, thrusting once more before taking his member out of your pussy and stroking it up and down with his hands. His milky load hit your belly, painting you in sin, as your tongue extended out for a little drip of it.

Exhausted, Dick threw himself on the bed beside you, both your breath audibly out of pace. Your body was covered in sweat, your bed sheet sticking to your back as you tried your best to recollect yourself.

“Officer McCaffrey would be so disappointed.” you joked, getting a loud laugh out of the man beside you. Crossing his arm over your waist, he pulled you closer to him, kissing the wet baby hairs at your temple.

“Wanna disappoint him again?” he asked, turning your face to meet your eyes, his new found favorite thing to look at.

“All night?” you asked in return.

“All fucking night.”

It was safe to say you were late for work again the next morning, and would be late a few more times, as Officer Dreamy would gladly keep you up for as long as you wished.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson smut

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strawbewiemilk · 3 months

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Low-cal meals that are my go to🤍

So here are a few low-calorie meals that I heavily depend on, and they are each under 100 c@lories:

1. Cucumber and Hummus Bites

Ingredients:

- 1 small cucumber (16 c@lories)

- 2 tablespoons of hummus (60 c@lories)

Instructions:

1. Slice the cucumber into rounds.

2. Top each cucumber slice with a small dollop of hummus.

2. Egg White Scramble

Ingredients:

- 3 egg whites (51 c@lories)

- 1/4 cup chopped spinach (2 c@lories)

- 1/4 cup diced tomatoes (5 c@lories)

- Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

1. Spray a non-stick pan with cooking spray.

2. Scramble the egg whites with spinach and tomatoes over medium heat until cooked through.

3. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Strawberry and Cottage Cheese

Ingredients:

- 1/4 cup low-fat cottage cheese (40 c@lories)

- 1/4 cup sliced strawberries (13 c@lories)

Instructions:

1. Combine the cottage cheese and strawberries in a bowl.

2. Mix well and enjoy.

4. Zucchini Noodles with Tomato Sauce

Ingredients:

- 1 cup spiralized zucchini (20 c@lories)

- 1/4 cup marinara sauce (40 c@lories)

Instructions:

1. Heat the marinara sauce in a small pan.

2. Add the zucchini noodles and cook for 2-3 minutes until tender.

5. Celery and Peanut Butter

Ingredients:

- 2 large celery sticks (10 c@lories)

- 1 teaspoon natural peanut butter (32 c@lories)

Instructions:

1. Spread the peanut butter on the celery sticks.

2. Enjoy as a crunchy, satisfying snack.

6. Greek Yogurt and Blueberries

Ingredients:

- 1/4 cup non-fat Greek yogurt (25 c@lories)

- 1/4 cup fresh blueberries (21 c@lories)

Instructions:

1. Mix the Greek yogurt and blueberries together in a bowl.

2. Serve chilled.

7. Veggie Soup

Ingredients:

- 1/2 cup diced tomatoes (15 c@lories)

- 1/2 cup chopped celery (8 c@lories)

- 1/2 cup chopped carrots (25 c@lories)

- 1 cup vegetable broth (10 c@lories)

Instructions:

1. Combine all ingredients in a pot and bring to a boil.

2. Simmer for 10-15 minutes until vegetables are tender.

I only eat these when I desperately need to take my vitamins or most of the time I'm too lazy so I jus don't cook and take a nap instead or drink a 0 c@l drink.

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foodshowxyz · 4 months

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Cheesy Beef and Mushroom Pita Pockets with Tzatziki Sauce 🥙🍄🧀

Full recipe ⬇️⬇️⬇️

For the Filling:

• 1 lb ground beef 🥩

• 2 cups mushrooms, finely chopped (such as cremini or button) 🍄

• 1 onion, finely chopped 🧅

• 2 garlic cloves, minced 🧄

• 1 tsp dried oregano 🌿

• 1 tsp ground cumin 🌿

• Salt and pepper to taste 🧂

• 1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese 🧀

• 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese 🧀

• 2 tbsp olive oil 🫒

For the Tzatziki Sauce:

• 1 cup Greek yogurt 🥛

• 1 cucumber, grated and excess water squeezed out 🥒

• 2 garlic cloves, minced 🧄

• 1 tbsp lemon juice 🍋

• 1 tbsp olive oil 🫒

• 1 tbsp chopped fresh dill 🌿

• Salt and pepper to taste 🧂

For Assembly:

• 4-6 whole wheat pita pockets 🥙

• Fresh lettuce, chopped 🥬

• Cherry tomatoes, halved 🍅

• Red onion, thinly sliced 🧅

Instructions:

1. Prepare the Filling:

• Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.

• Add chopped onion and garlic, sauté until translucent.

• Add ground beef and cook until browned. Drain excess fat.

• Add mushrooms and cook until they release their moisture and become tender.

• Season with oregano, cumin, salt, and pepper. Remove from heat and let cool slightly.

• Stir in shredded mozzarella and crumbled feta cheese until well combined.

2. Prepare the Tzatziki Sauce:

• In a medium bowl, combine Greek yogurt, grated cucumber, minced garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, and chopped dill.

• Mix well and season with salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate until ready to use.

3. Assemble the Pita Pockets:

• Warm the pita pockets slightly in the oven or microwave for easier opening.

• Carefully cut the tops off the pita pockets to create an opening.

• Fill each pita pocket with a generous amount of the beef and mushroom filling.

• Add fresh lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and red onion slices.

4. Serve:

• Drizzle the tzatziki sauce over the filled pita pockets or serve it on the side for dipping.

• Serve immediately and enjoy!

#food #food blogs #delicious #recipe #beef #homemade #food pics #foodshow #tzatziki #food photo blog #food photography #yummy food #ideas for dinner #daily recipe #delicious recipes #easy recipes

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citrineandrosmarin · 3 months

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Psephoi (Greek Alphabet) Divination

AKA Grammatomancy

What is it?

So there were many forms of divination in classical Greece, and one was the drawing of lots - having a collection of some kind of tokens (sticks, stones, beans, etc.) with a certain symbol on them that one would draw by chance, and each symbol would have a certain meaning. This is a type of kleromancy.

The Greek Alphabet Oracle is such a method, whereby you draw a token that has a letter of the classical Greek alphabet. Each letter corresponds to an oracular phrase (chresmoi) that, in Greek, starts with that letter. It is also known as the Psephoi Oracle because psephoi is the word for a pebble that was used for both divination and voting purposes.

Although it seems that the right phrase was initially obtained by throwing knuckle bones (astalagoi) and adding indicated numbers for a numerical value that was associated with a letter, most people today just use pebbles/stones/etc. with the letter itself on them, much like Norse runes. This sort of divination was under the domain of Hermes and Apollo.

Where does it come from?

The stone inscriptions that are the source of this method of divination were found in public spaces across several places, most notably in Lycia. The inscriptions were rediscovered and written about by German archaeologist Johannes Nollé. Many of the different sets of inscriptions were the same or similar. One in Olympos, Lycia, had different versions of some phrases and I've included them as alternatives here.

Resources:

Omens and Oracles: Divination in Ancient Greece by Matthe Dillon, pages 272-273

The Oracles of Apollo by John Opsopaus

How Do I Make A Set?

You will need:

The psephoi (Those glass pebbles for aquariums or small stones or pebbles or lil wood discs or whatever you want to make it out of)

A marker of some sort

A container to keep them in

They're very easy to make, just write a letter of the classical Greek alphabet on each psephoi you're using. Some may look similar when rotated so make a note of those and make sure you can tell which is which. I put a small dot at the bottom like you might find on polyhedral dice.

How Do I Use The Set?

Easy!

Method 1: Put the psephoi in a container, mix them up as you ask your question and pull one out without looking. Repeat if desired.

Method 2: Put the psephoi in a container, ask your question, shake them around until one or more jump out of the container.

The Alphabet and Interpretations

*In the spirit of keeping the first letter of the phrase the same as the letter you draw, John Opsopaus in his book includes his own version of the phrase. I will include these also as Alt, and when I have altered them myself they or the word will be in italics.

**Some have alternative versions that come from the Olympos site in Lycia. They are included with a [O].

***Some of the interpretations are from Opsopaus' book, some are others' that I found, and others are my own interpretations.

Α - Alpha

"The god [Apollon] says you will do everything successfully"

Alt: All things you will achieve with good fortune

Interpretations: You'll do great! You will succeed. Projects will go well. Everything is fine. Don't doubt yourself. Complete success. Good luck. Favorable Outcome. Best outcome you can ask for.

B - Beta

"Wait a little; it is not opportune for you"

Alt: Briefly wait, the time is not right for you

Interpretations: Try another time. Now is not the right time. Wait a little and you will receive a better outcome. Be patient. With a delay, the time will be right. Timing is everything. There is a time for everything and everything has its season. It would be to your advantage to wait for the opportune moment. Wait for the perfect moment. Don't act with haste. Slow down.

[O] "You will have Tyche [Fortune] and the Pythian [Apollon] as a helper."

Alt: Both Apollon and Fortune will bring you aid

Interpretations: You will receive help, particularly prophetic help. Call on Apollon for help, he will assist you. The theoi will help you if you ask. Ask for help. You are at a critical point, but if you are fortunate, Apollo the Far-shooter will help you if you call on Him. Even with luck, the God will only assist; ultimate responsibility is yours. With proper acts and choices - and a bit of luck - you’ll be successful. You will get help as long as you put in the work. Rely on and call on the help of the gods, however it may come. Help will come from unexpected, distant or indirect sources when you need it most.

Γ - Gamma

“Gaia will give you the ripe fruit from your labors”

Alt: Gaia gives you the results of your efforts

Interpretations: You will get the results that you have worked hard for. You'll get what you have earned. You reap what you sow. Your efforts will be rewarded. You’ll get what you deserve. Anything done previously will now return a result back to you, whether good or bad. Everything that happens is a direct result of everything that was already done. Past events and actions determine future ones. Usually a good omen of success.

Δ - Delta

"Desist from dreadful deeds, so that you avoid harm."

Alt: Dodge the dreadful deeds, avoiding harm.

Interpretations: Avoid matters that are terrible, fearful, or uncanny. Beware of the excessively wonderful, skillful, or clever. Don’t commit terrible deeds. Stay away from strange circumstances and affairs. Don’t make bad choices for the sake of expediency. In these ways you may escape harm.

[O] "In customs, inopportune strength is weak"

Alt: Drive ill-timed is weak before the rules

Interpretations: Ill-timed force will be ineffective; act with precision; timing is everything. Knowing where and when to strike is more important than strength. Blind conformity to customs is spineless; overly strict adherence to rules is self-defeating. Unreasonable or undue force will defeat itself; a tyrant must fall. In all things, follow the process and protocol. Slow down, form a strategy, and work with the system. Don’t force matters. Work smarter, not harder. Be responsible, not reckless, with the power you have. Knowing where and when to strike is more important than strength.

Ε - Epsilon

"You desire to see offspring from proper marriages."

Alt: Eager art thou for right unions' fruits.

*Desire here being "Eraô" which could also be 'love' or 'are in love with'

Interpretations: You think you know what’s right. You think you know and want the results of a union or action. Reflect on what you’re hoping for. What do you think you want? How do you think you will get that? You think you know the right/best way to do things. What you think is right and successful isn’t what is actually right/fitting. We want to see the results from acceptable convergence of actions. We can only act within the boundaries of what is proper. Worry about yourself, stay in your lane and don’t meddle in the affairs of others.

Ζ - Zeta

"Flee the great storm lest you somehow be harmed"

Alt: Zealously avoid the harmful storm!

*Harmed here can also mean hindered

Interpretations: There’s a storm coming, get out of the way. Difficult and dangerous situations are coming, stay out if at all possible! Sometimes the storms just happen, but other times, we cause them. You will only be harmed or hurt by getting involved in what comes. Prepare to be hit by the storm. Avoid raging storms of any kind; save your energy for when it can be effective. Escape from the chaos or controversy. Sometimes flight is wiser than fight. Go with the flow. Don’t get involved in conflicts.

Η - Eta

"Bright Helios [Sun], who watches everything, watches you."

Alt: Helios, all-seer, watches you.

Interpretations: You can’t hide. You’ve got the spotlight on you. Act nobly and openly, and you will have spiritual blessing and protection. This is not a time to be secretive or hidden in your works. Anything in the dark will be thrust into the light. Anything secret will be revealed. Anything made in oath or promise will be enforced. Keep your promises and be genuine, and you will be cared for.

Θ - Theta

"You have the gods as assistants and defenders."

Alt: Thou hast gods as comrades and as aides.

Interpretations: You have divine assistance at hand. The theoi will aid and defend you. Call on the gods for help, and they will be there for you. Have confidence! Your deities have your back and are guiding you. You are on the right path.

[O] "You have the gods as assistants of this path."

Alt: Thou hast gods as helpers on this path.

Interpretations: You’re on the right path, under divine care. You’re on the right path, so stick to it and stay on it. This is what you are meant to be doing. Commit yourself to the inquired matter and approach, and you will have success and protection, insofar as it is possible to do so. You still have to do the work though. The gods will bless those who honor them, and help those who help themselves. Heading out on your path, remember to be grateful, appreciative and respectful.

Ι - Iota

"There is sweat, it excels more than everything."

Alt: It is through sweat that you will succeed.

Interpretations: Although you are working hard, you will accomplish everything. Hard work is the surest means of success. The oracle recommends elbow grease. Toil, work, and labor is required in order to succeed. Keep working, and success will result, no matter the cost. Just focus on the work, don’t worry about the outcome. Giving up is not an option.

Κ - Kappa

"To fight with the waves is difficult; endure, friend."

Alt: Contests with the waves are hard; endure

*'Endure' can also mean 'delay'

Interpretations: The problems of life will come and go, but will never fully go away. Either wait for the currents to be favorable, or find a way to ride them. You might be caught in a tough situation with no clear way forward. Don’t fight it; endure. Wait when possible, persevere with care. Work with the sea rather than against it. Don’t give up; sink or swim. If you’re going through Hell, keep going.

Λ - Lambda

"Make an end of grief; hereafter expect joy."

Alt: Leave off grief, and then await delight.

Interpretations: You have grieved long enough. Although you have been sad, you will be happy soon. Stop worrying, and prepare to be pleased. Turn your attention from your pain to the things that give you joy. Pain will yield to happiness. You have been through dark times, but the sun will rise again.

[O] "The one passing on the left bodes well for everything."

Alt: Luck comes from unexpected places.

*The left is traditionally the sinister side. The left is also associated with the unconscious, lunar mind.

Interpretations: A promising sign comes from an unpromising quarter. Whatever looks bad at the start will turn out well in the end. A blessing in disguise. Or, at least, whatever ill omens there are are not intended for you. Pay attention to your intuition, dreams and expressions of your subconscious.

Μ - Mu

"You press on in vain; don’t hurry; it’s not useful."

Alt: Make no haste; in vain you press ahead.

Interpretations: Don’t keep busy at what you are doing, it’s pointless. Haste makes waste. You are rushing around and working hard, but randomly and thoughtlessly. You are putting a lot of energy into wasting time. Pressing on now will be futile; wait for a better time.

[O] "It is necessary to be weary with toil, but the change will be admirable."

Alt: Mandatory toil: the change is good.

Interpretations: Through toil and distress a change will be made for the better. Hard work will result in a good return. It is your fate to be weary with labor, but there will be a beautiful or noble transformation. You are obliged to work hard, but the change will be good. Circumstances will cause distress, but there will be a good change or exchange. Pain will force an admirable change. You will need to work hard.

Ν - Nu

"Now the fitting opportunity for everything arises"

Alt: Now springs forth the fitting time for all.

Interpretations:

Now is the suitable time for anything; the right time begins now. You are entering into a harmonious season, a time when everything is well ordered and bears fruit. An appropriate opportunity or profit is at hand; it is developing. Orderly profits are growing. The most suitable situation is now. Seize the moment; you can accomplish anything! You are entering a synchronistic period when anything is possible.

[O] "A victory-bearing gift enwreathes the oracle"

Alt: Nike’s gift enwreathes the oracle

Interpretations: Something will be given (to you, by you, or from one to another) that brings victory with it and will crown this oracle. The import seems to be that this gift will be the answer to the question asked of the oracle. So, for example, if the querent asked when something will happen, the gift is the sign that it’s immanent.

Ξ - Xi

"The seasonable fruit of Deo the golden awaits you"

Alt: Xanthic Dêô’s ripened fruit awaits.

Interpretations: The fruit that is due now is available for you. The ripe grain is yours for the cutting. The gifts of the goddess are yours for the taking. She has brought you the profits, results, or returns that are due. The goddess Dêô (a name for Demeter, the Grain Mother) has brought you some benefit, so perhaps you should accept the gift.

[O] "There is no fruit to take from a dry shoot."

Alt: Expect no fruit from withered shoots.

Interpretations: Don’t wait too long to harvest or to take your profit. You can’t get blood from a turnip; you can’t get water from a stone. Don’t polish a turd. You won't get something from nothing. Being bitter and angry is not the way to go about things. Don’t keep trying to pull water out of a well that is empty, and know when to let go. Do not expect more from something than it can give. You’re on a dead-end path. Things have failed before they’ve even begun. Better to start over from scratch or look elsewhere entirely. Stop asking questions you already know the answer to: You already have an answer. The gods may be unwilling to talk at this point, so stop bothering them.

Ο - Omicron

"There are no crops to be reaped that were not sown."

Alt: Out of sight are crops that are not sown.

Interpretations: You reap what you sow. You will get nothing because you have given nothing. If you do not work now, there will be no reward later. If you want apples, plant apple seeds. What we spread about comes back to us. What goes around comes around. You must plan ahead in order to achieve anything. There will be no return if you do not invest. What has not been created cannot be destroyed. What has not been born cannot die. Warning against laziness, procrastination, and sloth. That which was inquired about will not happen because of what was not done. A warning that you need to work and prepare for the future in order to have success.

Π - Pi

"Completing many contests, you will seize the crown"

Alt: Passing many tests, you’ll win the crown.

Interpretations: If you persist in your struggles, after many trials you will succeed. Perseverance through adversity. Keep striving and victory will come. After much competition, you will emerge the winner. Don't give up, face adversity! Persistence will give you your rewards, and do not be afraid to use your talents. Whatever rewards, station, acclaim, or prize you want, it will eventually be yours, but you have to keep fighting for it. Success may not be immediate, but a gradual process of refinement instead that leads to fulfillment of desires

Ρ - Rho

"You will go on more easily if you wait a short time"

Alt: Rest awhile; you’ll go more easily.

Interpretations: If you will hold your ground for only a short time, you will be able to proceed (more easily or with greater cooperation). You’ll live more easily if you take a break. You will go faster by waiting than by going now; on the other hand, delaying too long may provoke reckless action. By standing fast you live recklessly. By remaining where you are, you live life thoughtlessly.

Σ - Sigma

"Phoibos [Apollo] speaks plainly, 'Stay, friend.'"

Alt: “Stay, friend,” Apollo plainly says.

Interpretations: Neither advance nor retreat; wait or hold your ground, as appropriate; the best action is inaction. Don’t travel. Stay firm; don’t let yourself be swayed. The gods want to inform you to wait for more information before you make any decisions. In this time, relax, and let the signs come to you. Things will resolve on their own or get to a point where it is better to act than now. Respond only when it is appropriate to do so, which is not now.

Τ - Tau

"You will have release from the present circumstances."

Alt: Take release from present circumstance.

Interpretations: Your misfortune will come to an end. You will be given a way out of present circumstances. You are between a rock and a hard place, but you will get out. All your mishaps will come to an end. Leave present events behind. If you have been having good luck, that too may be departing.

[O?] "You will have a parting from the companions now around you."

Alt: There will be a departure from the companions now around you.

Interpretations: You will be separated from some of the people in your life. This may be an unwelcome parting from friends or a welcome release from enemies; in either case they are now around you. This may also mean a growing apart or forced separation of a person from his or her family, peers or fellow travelers on the path. Soon, people in your life might not stay the way they are. You might grow apart or distance or travel might force you away. Be wary of this, and act accordingly. Consider that 'companions' could also be interpreted as personifications (e.g. in the way Love and Strife are personified) so it could mean a change of circumstances. The people, resources, and situations you’re with now are not what you’ll always be with.

Y - Upsilon

"This wedding is not yours; do not labor in vain"

Alt: Useless toil: this wedding isn’t yours!

Interpretations: The person whom you are trying to woo will not be yours. This romance or relationship will not be permanent. Give it up. Be sensible. You have not made a good choice of someone to pursue. Do not pretend that you are interested in marriage. Don’t pursue the partnership (of any kind); you are wasting your time. The Oracle advises you to abandon some alliance or union that you have been pursuing.

[O] "The affair holds a noble undertaking."

Alt: Undertaking fine is held by deed

Interpretations: There is some issue to be resolved, or some action is under consideration; it involves high-mindedness, either in commitment, deed, or professional pursuit. The oracle may tell us that the affair is admirable due to this noble element, or that the situation may guide us to seek the appropriate noble undertaking or profession. The hero’s quest. On the other hand, the oracle may mean that the situation hinders this fine undertaking. Thus you should try to understand the situation: does it demand an excellent undertaking or impede it? Take the high road.

Φ - Phi

"Plant! For Deo will nourish everything beautifully."

Alt: Forthwith plant! For Deo fosters well.

Interpretations: Plant your crops or vegetable garden, and Demeter will make them grow well. Start your project, for the goddess will bring it to fruition. She will care for it, and it will come out very well. Plant your seeds (of any sort), and the goddess will help you to cultivate them productively.

[O] "Having done something carelessly, you will thereafter blame the gods."

Alt: Faultily you act, and blame the gods.

Interpretations: Take responsibility for your actions (or inactions); don’t blame the gods (or the universe, or fate, or society, or nature) for your own failings, for your thoughtless or careless actions. Something is going wrong, and you may be trying to blame other things than the cause of the problem. Don’t resort to pointing fingers. The Gods will help you if you do not take out your anger on them or others needlessly.

Χ - Khi

"Rejoicing, press on!’ Zeus himself says this."

Alt: "Happily press on!" says Zeus himself

Interpretations: Charge ahead! Keep working with joy in your heart. Zeus urges you forward, even commands you! Act with the confidence that you will fare well and be safe. With joy, hasten the matter or yourself forward. Lean hard on it, but stay happy.

[O] "Succeeding, wanderer, you will fulfill this golden oracle."

Alt: Happy end fulfills this golden word.

Interpretations: “Golden” may be a metaphor for rich, noble, excellent, etc. This admirable oracle will be fulfilled by you attaining your ends, or a mere chance meeting could constitute the golden event. Rejoice, you will succeed! Luck is on your side, and by mere chance, things might fall into place. The answer is positive, and you might be pleasantly surprised at all the riches that the world gives you in addition to your solution. A favorable result is indicated - but even more subtle success is at hand.

Ψ - Psi

"You have this righteous judgment from the gods."

Alt: Proper is this judgment from the gods.

Interpretations: This oracle refers to collective judgment rather than individual judgment. This implies that the majority of the gods concur in this judgment, and that this judgment is appropriate, fair, and righteous, though there is no implication that the result is that desired by the querent. Accept it and move on. Truth will be brought forwards, so be careful in your actions. The Gods are watching, and they will be fair, honest, and unforgiving to those who deserve it. This includes those who might be harming you, as well.

Ω - Omega

"If you take unripe fruit, it won’t be useful."

Alt: Otiose the fruit that’s plucked unripe.

Interpretations: If you pick your fruit too soon, you will have a bad harvest. More abstractly, too early grasping of the fruits of your labor (whether the taking is voluntary or necessary) will yield a poor return; the rewards will not be suitable for their purpose. Don’t be impatient, or the results will be inferior. Don't act rashly or hastily. Don't jump the gun. The time is not yet right to take advantage of the matter. Taking action now will lead to uselessness, worthlessness, and difficulty. At best, this letter indicated to just stay on the course and wait for the matter to develop further before inquiring again.

We're at the end now! (Phew!) I might make a google doc with the alphabet - maybe even make it so you can suggest your own interpretations or even alternative phrases for some of the more difficult ones. In the meantime I hope this has been helpful!

#psephoi divination #psephoi oracle #greek alphabet oracle #grammatomancy #helpol #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenism #deity communication #divination

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saintescuderia · 5 months

Text

pancakes (pt. 6)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

antinal reference ;)

A/N: to make up for being MIA (and that this sunday might be another miss) here's a double update. enjoy.

P6 - pre-workout for jet-lag

You still found it odd to call Australia home.

You had mixed feelings about the country stamped across the front page of your passport. Your auntie had been the one to organise the papers so that Australian would be your identification. Never mind the hospital bed in Monaco that you were birthed. Or that you were first words were in Arabic.

Still, your travelling auntie’s own experiences meant that when you came into her care, she would raise you Australian. Never mind any of the other stuff.

So, when you walked into the house in Melbourne, you were met with an Egyptian lady playing French music, dressed in a Korean football jersey, cooking Greek food. Such was the life of a nomadic English teacher that was your aunt Nadia. Dia for short.

“Ah, it's you." She sat, spying you hauling the suitcase through the door. She looked at the clock by the fridge and then frowned. "You weren't supposed to land yet."

"I landed an hour ago." You said. She looked at the clock again and took it off the fridge. She banged it with one hand and then shook her head, muttering under breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you take an Uber?"

"No. Oscar gave me a lift." Well, technically his father had driven the car.

Oscar’s parents were apparently super excited to meet you and gushed all through the way about how glad they were that their son had you to help him through F1. They had even insisted on dinner but Oscar knew you had stayed up - you had made him do the same thing as you - and thankfully postponed it for a breakfast tomorrow after you both got to finally got to sleep.

Upon leaving Jeddah, you had looked at the flight times and decided to overdose the 400mg of pre-workout and strategically placeyour workout just before leaving the hotel so that you and Oscar could both avoid the jet-lag many other F1 personnel were struggling with.

So far, it was on track to working. You just needed to push through a few more hours. To do so, Oscar was going to watch the footy. You were going to watch football.

“Ah, this young Oscar." Your aunt was nodding. "I like him. He has a trusting face.” She laughed at you, doing nothing to help but continue to watch you clamber into the well-loved and mis-matched dining furniture in her kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Tired.” You said, checking the time. It was 5pm but you were ready to knock out. Just a few more hours. You willed yourself to push through and avoid the jet-lag.

“Did you eat?”

You hadn’t. You never ate airplane food.

The silence was answer enough as your auntie plated up some gyros for you. The smells of the seasoned meat filled your nose and your stomach rumbled at the site of it. You picked up your fork, ignoring the bread for the sake of your cut but helping yourself to tzatziki.

"What's with the Korean jersey." You couldn't help but ask. You watched your auntie's back with CHO GUE-SUNG.

"Oh, he's such a handsome man. So polite too. I met him when I was teaching abroad in Seoul."

You opened your mouth but closed it. Your auntie lived a very unbelievable life at the best of times.

"He was nice. Nice face. Good hair. You should date him." Dia said as if she was commenting about the weather and you rolled your eyes, chewing through the food. She gave you a look. "Better a footballer than a driver."

You gave her a look. She never did like Danny. Much less you two together.

"Speaking of footballers, your uncle called. Went on and on in Italian about how your talents are wasted with cars and you should come to a real sport."

You snorted hearing this. Your uncle's work in football (not soccer, football) and your line of expertise had some people baffled that you hadn't joined him. Only the select few who knew your mother understood just why that was.

Still, every month your uncle sighed at the wasted talent! that you, a world class performance trainer! was stuck making coffee! for some fancy drivers!

Save that your uncle would add in a few choice Italian expletives in the mix.

"So, the usual?" You concluded.

"The usual." Dia nodded. She came to sit down in front of you. Pulling out her phone, she began showing you pictures of her recent teaching stint in South Korea. Your aunt had been there for about six months, working at an international school. And befriending Korean football players apparently.

“I thought you were teaching in Paris.” You said between mouthfuls of seasoned meat.

“That was before.” Dia waved a dismissive hand. She dropped her phone and then stood up to pull out two wine glasses. Your aunt gave you a look and you shook your head. She put one back with a roll of her eye. “Wine is good for you.”

“I’m already taking resveratrol.” You said. “And I’m on a cut.”

“That’s why no bread.” Dialooked down at the plate full of untouched pita bread. She was well aware of your health habits. “Actually, I went to Egypt recently! Ah!” She went to the cupboard above the microwave and pulled out a shoebox full of small boxes. You knew immediately what it was. Bringing the shoebox to the table, Dia began pulling out various medicines she had brought from Egypt.

“You will need this for your travels.”

“I have all of this.”

“Do you have Antinal?”

“Yes.”

“Take some extra." Dia still pushed it to you. "Give it to Charles.”

“I don’t speak to Charles.” You said.

Your aunt huffed and looked up at the ceiling, calling to God. “Ya rab. This fight with Charles needs to stop. Pascale and I are sick of it.” You didn’t comment any further on it. It was, admittedly, quite hard when there were so many other people involved. Pascale and Nadia were best friends. It was how you and Charles had grown up so close. The fact that you were family friends made it hard since Charles had pretty much cut you off. Granted, he was polite and you knew he still greeted your aunt Dia with a kiss on each cheek every time she’d visited Monaco. But still.

“I will give them to Charles.” She said, taking a box back.

“You do that.” You said as she still pushed one boxes of the yellow medicine in front of you. “Dia, I already have this.”

“For Oscar. Yallah.”

“Anti-diarrhoea pills?"

"Oi, mate. You better be grateful. That shit's a miracle." You said, dropping the yellow box in Oscar's hands as you both walked down the Paddock. You had checked your phone this morning to the beautiful news that you would be working for McLaren today. You texted Oscar the news and the next day he had your coffee order ready in the cupholder of the car he picked up you up in.

It didn't feel odd. It should've, but it didn't. Maybe it was because you and Oscar had already spent the most of the morning together. You had breakfast with his parents - his dad taking a moment to quietly pull you aside to say thank you for supporting Oscar - and then hit a gym sesh.

In fact, you almost forgot that you and Oscar was supposed to be working in different domains until you both had to get dressed and found him waiting for you outside the Paddock dressed in shorts, a McLaren t-shirt and accompanying brand cap.

It made you look down at your black Hospitality wear and wonder just how things would go if you were wearing the same clothes as him.

Well, for one thing, you would have to wear those ugly ass shoes. You looked down at your feet clad in some Nike Cortez and tried to take that as consolation. You weren't dressed in team uniform but at least that meant you had your shoes.

Still, the oddity of seeing a driver openly interact with the Hospitality staff turned some head as you walked down the Paddock together. You were half tempted to tell Oscar to go ahead but it didn't make sense. You were both going to the same place - the McLaren motorhome.

Oscar, however, was barely paying attention to any of this. No, his attention was still stuck on the medicine you had given him.

"Why do I need," He paused and flipped the box over to read the label that was in English, "Antinal?"

"Because you're travelling around the world more now that you're in F1 and have an additional ten or so race weekends added to your calendar." You explained as Oscar read what minimal English was on the medicine box "And so you're gonna be trying a lot more foreign food. Gotta be prepared, man." You patted him on the shoulders as a form of consolation. Oscar just laughed.

"I must say, when you texted me that you had got me something, I didn't think it would be this."

"Technically my auntie did." You said before explaining how you would probably needed to purchase another 23kg suitcase from all the things your aunty was adamant you have with you for the rest of the season. Oscar was laughing at the five packets of sunflower seeds your aunt thought was an essential when you clocked it.

Or, better yet, them. Charles and Carlos.

Both staring at you. And Oscar.

You felt a jolt rush through you realised. Oscar's latest girlfriend update went to background noise as you took in the two Ferrari drivers stood there.

Carlos was appraising, his head slightly tilted as he clearly was observing the two of you. You could only imagine what he noted.

You. Oscar. Laughter. Gift exchanged. Mention of relatives and close family.

Still, the kind Spaniard's eyes were a lot easy to take in than Charles.

Charles who was clearly fuming.

Or, clearly to you. You knew his angry tells. Right fist clenches then unfurls. Left hand runs through hair. Lips are pursed. And then he walks off.

You watched as Charles said something to Carlos and then turned around to stalk off. You watched his retreating form with forlorn eyes and before you caught Carlos looking at you. The furrow between your brows where you had probably stared longingly after the best friend who left you in the dust immediately fell when you looked at Carlos.

That was the first time that Charles was actually acknowledging your existence in how long.

You drew your eyes back to Carlos who was still looking at you. You smiled you found yourself even lifting up a hand to wave. You saw his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips lift into a smile. He waved back. Then someone called his name and you saw his cousin and manager appear from the Ferrari motorhome. You turned back to look at Oscar who was still talking, unaware of anything that happened in the past minute.

"... anyway Lily wants to meet you and - "

"Have you copped any shit?" You interrupted Oscar and turned to him. You had both neared the McLaren Motorhome and knew this would be where you both parted ways.

"Copped shit from who?"

"Other drivers." You specified.

"I mean I haven't really had a chance to speak with them." Oscar said, pursing his lips as if he thought about it. "The Williams guys are nice. Alex is funny."

"Alex is funny." You agreed. You did like Alex. He had a good heart. You would forever be salty at what Red Bull did to him.

"Lewis said hello, which was nice. Fernando reminded me his career is older than me." You couldn't help but snort at that. Oh, Nando.

"And Lando is... well, Lando." You perfectly understood just what Oscar meant by that. His words, however, also confirmed what you had suspected. None of the 'core' drivers that surrounded Ferrari or Red Bull's circles had come near him. You knew that many of the guys had gone out a few times to celebrate the start of the season and the fact that Oscar had very clearly not been invited was, well, getting to you.

Especially since you were 99.9% sure you were the reason why.

You stared at the young Australian boy in front of you and felt two things wash over you.

The first was sadness.

A lame word but there was no other way to describe it. Infuriated, annoyed, hurt - sure. But you were also just sad. Sad that this was your life and that anyone close to you still managed to get tainted by the things you were forced to lug around yourself.

The second was fondness.

The boy was young and innocent but carried himself with wisdom and dignity beyond his mere 20 years. And his dry ass sarcasm was a special type of humour you missed having around you. He was caring, loyal and an overall good sport. Having Oscar around made you realise how long it has been since you've laughed. He drove you the airport, bought you food and stayed up to watch old FRIENDS reruns after finding out Daniel Ricciardo had cornered you in the gym.

"Your love language is quality time." Was his reasoning when he had arrived at your hotel room. And so he ordered some KFC and got comfortable in your hotel room to watch Chandler and Joey forget Ross' baby on a bus. You knew Oscar didn't like sit-coms -- it was a recurring argument -- but he watched five episodes that night after you had texted him feeling panicked and needing help when Daniel arrived drunk at the gym.

In short, in that moment, you were suddenly hyperaware of how much you really, really, really fucking loved Oscar Piastri.

So maybe that's why you just came out with it.

"Jos Verstappen has a restraining order against me."

Oscar blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to say that. You weren't even expecting you to really say it.

"Come again?"

"Well his wife does." You corrected. "Because the courts wouldn't accept a man of his size him to need protection from little old me." You rubbed your arm, feeling the full vulnerability of what you were doing. You thought of your next words carefully, making sure to not step over the NDA you had signed. "I used to train Max when he was at Torro Rosso and then at Red Bull. I always saw bruises on his arms. One day I..." you huffed, hating that you legally couldn't say what had actually happened. "Well, I ended up beating Jos Verstappen half to death."

Oscar was silent. His face was void of much reaction. He wasn't even looking you in the face but staring at the ground in his pensive state. You were aware that you both had stopped walking and were stood to the side.

"Is that why you don't officially work as a trainer and had to be all pedantic with training me?" All you could do was nod to his question. Oscar shook his head. "I mean, I've heard the stories about Max and his dad but..."

Now it was your turn to blink. Once. Twice. You frowned and Oscar finally met your eyes and you were stunned to see the easy going grin on his face once more. It hadn't disappeared. "I can only guess you had to sign an NDA and this isn't the full story. And even if it is, well, it's enough to know you were protecting someone from a -- well, an abuser."

"I... Yeah. Thanks." You weren't sure what you were thanking him for. For believing you? For not treating you differently? For taking your side when everyone in Formula 1 had dropped you and treated you like a leper?

"Is that why you and Ricciardo fell through?" Oscar asked. It wasn't nosy. You had explained enough to him. It was enough he knew what happened.

"No Danny, he, uh-." You hated how small your voice sounded. Or that you immediately fell back to his nickname. "He cheated."

Oscar was silent, waiting for you to continue. And so you did so. You told him everything. From Daniel to Charles to the moment you punched Jos Verstappen in the face.

Carlos Sainz was ready to punch someone in the face.

He sat there at the table, fist curled tight as he tried to calm down from all that he was hearing. It seems like his name would only be an added tag to an otherwise Charles Leclerc fest of a season. Carlos knew, sure, that coming into a Ferrari where his teammate was known as Il Predestinato would mean that he needed to prove himself, put himself in the spotlight and make the Tifosi give him a name like that.

However, as the current race strategy meeting was showing, it seemed like no one in Ferrari was going to give Carlos the chance.

"Now, boys, I have something to discuss with you two." Fred said as people were starting to leave and the meeting seemingly coming to an end. Carlos wanted nothing more than to get up and storm off but he reigned it and listened to the change in Fred's tone.

"What's up?" Charles asked, sitting up.

"Quietly, there was a team principal meeting with Domenicali." Fred said, and this time Carlos sat up also. His anger was momentarily forgotten as his interest piqued. "McLaren have unofficially started working with a girl to train their rookie." Charles was playing with his APM Monaco bracelets, somewhat paying attention. Carlos watched him. There was one particular bracelet he always fiddled with, a small gold chain tucked amidst all the other extravagant pieces.

"She's a Hospitality worker."

Carlos saw how Charles froze. His teammate looked up. Carlos saw the horrified look on his face.

"Quoi?" The French slip was only further proof of something. Carlos's mind raced to make the connection.

The lighbulb went off just before Fred said it.

"She was your friend, non?" Fred said. "Worked with Max Verstappen in Torro Rosso." His eyes flickering over to Carlos. They had been teammates back then.

Charles's years and years of media training went out the window as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Carlos, however, was suddenly thrown back a few years and thinking about just who had caused this whole shitstorm.

You.

Carlos said your name, feeling something swell up in him by saying your name in front of Charles who was your former best friend. Maybe it was ego from the recent meeting, but Carlo wanted to drive the knife in a little deeper.

"She's a very good trainer. I watched her sessions with Verstappen." And that wasn't on showing up Charles; it was the truth. Max's dominance needed to be at least somewhat accredited to you.

"Turns out she is not allowed to work for new teams." Fred spoke. "That means for McLaren to hire her goes against some contract Formula 1 put in place after an incident with Verstappen."

There was a pause. Carlos waited for Charles to say something - to say it. He didn't. So Carlos did.

"She was defending Max." Carlos said, defending you when he thought the silent Monacoan beside him would've. Didn't you two grow up together?

The Verstappen Incident, Carlos was well aware of. However, whatever happened between you and Charles... well, Carlos was out of the loop.

"It doesn't matter." Fred waved. "I'm not here to speak of the drama. But I did have a look. Mattia never told me but she has ties with Ferrari from before - "

"But she's a Hospitality worker!" Charles finally spoke up. "Mattia he-- I spoke to him about her."

"You did?" Fred took that piece in. Carlos wanted to scoff. Clearly Mattia hadn't mentioned that in the hand over notes. "What did Mattia say?" Fred asked.

"Peut-être on peut parler juste nous deux." Charles said, the switch the French reigniting Carlos' anger once more. He forced himself to breathe steadily while Fred nodded. Both men had often tried to keep to English in front of him for the sake of manners and being polite, as opposed to using their mother tongue and making Carlos feel, well, like he felt now. Excluded. Enraged.

Still, Carlos' French skills were okay enough for understand what Charles had said. He stood up and, in French, said. "I'll leave you two." Without looking back, he walked out the motorhome trying to steel himself.

He really wanted to punch something.

Walking a little ways down the Paddock, he took deep breaths and shot a flurry of texts to his dad. He needed his advice on what to do given the way the meeting had gone. It was then that a girl on rollerblades holding the Australian flag zoomed past him and Carlos looked up.

The entertainment at Albert Park never missed. Carlos smiled slightly. Australia was a fun circuit. Not his favourite track by any means but the actual circuit itself had a lot going on that he enjoyed. It was lively, music always pumping and the weather was nice.

Still, the sounds of laughter and the faint dance music that echoed through the Paddock weren't enough to lift his spirits.

And then he saw you.

You were walking with Lando's new teammate, the infamous Oscar something. He hadn't paid much attention to the newbie, hearing something vaguely about Alpine drama from Lando. It all had gone in one ear and out the other.

Now, Carlos saw you walking with him and suddenly he wished he knew more about the kid. Why him? Why were you friends with him? Since when did you have friends? And why risk it all just to train him?

Carlos had always been perfectly polite, nice. Why didn't you laugh with him? Why didn't you reach into your bag to pull out a small box and hand to him as you explained him whatever gift you had brought him? What made this Oscar kid so lucky?

Maybe it was just the Australians seeking out one another? Everyone on the Grid knew you had dated Ricciardo. That had been a painful experience. It was one thing to have pined after you, as Max his teammate's trainer. It was another to see you get swept off your feet by the senior Red Bull driver that everyone adored. Carlos' days at Red Bull sucked since all he did was think about you - and you barely paid him any attention.

Sure, he was now no longer Ricciardo's junior but it still got to him. Daniel Ricciardo had waltzed in and you had gone wide-eyed before Carlos could've even tried.

Because he would've. He really would've. Even before his dad told him who your uncle was. Even before he tried your cooking, your coffee. Even before he knew your name. A young Carlos Sainz had seen a pretty girl walking around in the same Real Madrid kit that he owned at home and immediately wanted to go up to her, to ask her name, to ask her out.

Carlos felt the door behind him open and out came Charles. He looked completely at ease despite what had occurred before. He patted Carlos on the shoulder. And just as he did that, Carlos' phone beeped. His father.

Don't get mad. Just get even on the track.

Carlos pocketed his phone but felt something ignite inside him. He would do that. It wasn't Charles' fault for Ferrari's favouritism. Carlos had to admit the Monégasque was a genuinely nice guy.

"You alright, mate?" Charles asked. "I'm really sorry about before."

"I'm alright. Excited for the race." Carlos said, changing the subject and not mentioning it at all. If anything, he would stay out if it all and just focus on the race, on proving everyone wrong. He take his father's advice and make his own mark in this team.

"Ah, Australia is always special." Charles said.

Despite what his father had said, anger came back within Carlos. It was the same anger he felt towards that Australian kid. And Daniel Ricciardo. And, to an extent, Max.

Carlos was jealous. Not for Charles' favouritism from Ferrari, but the favouritism from you. Charles had you and he'd thrown you out for whatever reason.

Carlos' eyes came back to you and suddenly he couldn't help himself. Sure, he could stay out of all the Ferrari drama but this was you. He couldn't stay out of it when you were right there, walking beside the new kid who didn't know that Charles had essentially banned every driver from interacting with you.

"Yeah?" Carlos spoke before he even realised. "What's so special about Australia?"

The answer was obvious: you.

You were what had been so special. Carlos' days at Torro Rosso meant that he knew about how you felt towards Albert Park, that it was almost like your home race.

For one, you didn't stay at the Crown Casino hotel like the rest of them. No, instead you stayed at your auntie's place by the beach. Carlos knew that from the time he had to drive a passed out Max Verstappen to said home back in 2017.

Charles' smile dropped slightly. Then he brought it back up. "Ah, you know. The sun, the people. There is a special energy here that - "

He stopped talking.

Carlos knew that his teammate had finally spotted you also. Turning his head to look over at Charles, Carlos took in the look of utter rage on his teammate's face.

And then, you looked up. You noticed him. Them. You met his eyes and then you looked at Charles. The McLaren driver was still talking beside you, oblivious to how you had clearly stopped listening to him. Charles took a deep breath.

He stormed off.

Carlos couldn't help but roll his eyes. He didn't know the truth, but Carlos had heard the many rumours as to why Charles had cut you off. He thought they were all rubbish.

Looking back at you, Carlos met your eyes once more and he thought about his options.

He knew that you were in part responsible for training one of the best drivers on the grid. He also knew that it would take a bit of a miracle to help him outperform Charles Leclerc and show Ferrari what was what.

But hey, if this Oscar kid was going to go against the grid's treasured and unspoken rule, why couldn't he?

You really jinxed yourself.

At first, the Australian Grand Prix was off to a great start. Sleeping at home meant that you had more comfortable waking in a bed that was familiar - and not stuck in some isolating three star hotel room that made you question the hotel rating system.

Three stars with suspicious smells coming from the closet? No, thank you.

Instead, you got to wake up to your auntie humming as she prepared her own version of pancakes. It had been a long time since anyone had made pancakes for you. And even though you had breakfast plans with Oscar and his family, you still ate some of her and kissed her goodbye as you went to the circuit.

By car. You drove yourself. In your beloved Supra, the one that had essentially taught you everything you knew about cars (that and Top Gear) were finally united.

And that in itself was a beautiful fucking thing.

There were a small handful of circuits in where you had a car in the country and could actually drive yourself. Australia was one of them. Japan was another. Monaco was the other.

Then again, Monaco was far too crazy to be driving during a race weekend anyway. Still, it was nice to be able to play some calming lo-fi beats as you drove the familiar Lakeside Drive that led up to the street circuit that was built around the lake. Your lake.

You had found yourself a good parking spot and the cafe vendor recognised you and gave you a free latte. Some marshalls walking by were joking about something nonsensical but the banter and accent made you feel warm inside. No matter the complicated feelings that being Australian brought up, you still enjoyed the laid-back attitudes that came with the softened ds and ts.

You had a good gym session, showing progress with your training. You dropped another kilogram off with the cut working well and then you were ready to go to the safe confined of the McLaren motorhome.

And then you saw the message from your co-worker.

Sorry bro. There's been a change in the roster because Mack called in sick. You're going to be covering him at Ferrari for the rest of the race weekend.

You really had jinxed yourself.

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beautyandlifestyleblog86 · 5 months

Text

Nutrient-dense meal prep recipes that can help promote healthy eyesight:

1. Salmon and Quinoa Salad:

- Cook quinoa according to package instructions and let cool.

- Season salmon fillets with olive oil, lemon juice, and herbs, then bake until cooked through.

- Combine quinoa, mixed greens, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, and avocado in a bowl.

- Top with flaked salmon and a drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette.

2. Roasted Vegetable and Chickpea Buddha Bowl:

- Toss chopped sweet potatoes, bell peppers, zucchini, and red onion with olive oil and seasonings.

- Roast in the oven until vegetables are tender and slightly crispy.

- Serve over cooked quinoa or brown rice, along with roasted chickpeas and a dollop of hummus.

3. Spinach and Feta Stuffed Bell Peppers:

- Cut bell peppers in half lengthwise and remove seeds and membranes.

- Saute spinach, diced tomatoes, garlic, and feta cheese in a skillet until wilted.

- Stuff the bell peppers with the spinach mixture and bake until peppers are tender.

4. Lentil and Vegetable Soup:

- Saute onions, carrots, celery, and garlic in a large pot until softened.

- Add lentils, diced tomatoes, vegetable broth, and seasonings.

- Simmer until lentils are cooked through, then stir in chopped kale or spinach before serving.

5. Greek Chicken Bowls:

- Marinate chicken breasts in olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, and oregano.

- Grill or bake chicken until cooked through, then slice into strips.

- Serve over a bed of cooked quinoa or brown rice, along with cucumber, cherry tomatoes, red onion, feta cheese, and a drizzle of tzatziki sauce.

These meal prep recipes are packed with nutrients that are beneficial for eye health, including vitamins A, C, E, and zinc, as well as omega-3 fatty acids and antioxidants.

162 notes · View notes

logansargeantsbabymom · 4 months

Text

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt4

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader , Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

warnings: fingering

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

A faint cry is what had awoken me from my slumber. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before making my way to Yelena’s nursery to change and nurse her before burping and rocking her back to sleep.

I’d looked at the time as I rocked her back to sleep reading ‘5:53am’. There was no point in going back to sleep if I had to wake up at 6:30, so I decided that I was gonna go to the kitchen to start breakfast for my family.

On my way to the kitchen, I stopped in the living room grabbing the small bose speaker I had charging before continuing my journey to my big, beautiful kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed out enough food to make feed a village. Eggs, Munster Cheese, Turkey Bacon, Turkey Sausages, Greek Yogurt, Granola, Strawberries, Blueberries, Pineapples and Bananas.

I hear faint but heavy footsteps coming close to the kitchen while I mixed seasoning with the eggs before cooking them. I felt arms snake around my waist and a face being nuzzled in the crook of my neck before feeling faint kisses making their way up to my jaw.

“Good Morning beautiful, Did Yelena wake you up again?” I turn around to face my boyfriend before I rake my hand through his crazy bed hair.

“Yes Logan, Yelena did wake me up.” a smirk made its way on my lips as I saw a frown make its way on his.

“I thought I told you to wake me up when she did. You’ve been working too much and you need rest.” he said sincerely. I could never get over the look in his eyes, I could get lost in those greenish blue orbs forever.

“Babe, you think you’re not tired too?” a chuckle makes it way past my lips.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. All that matters is I got her. I got her and I have you, and I’m determined to never let you go again” he said as he snuggled deeper into my body. A piercing sound is what pulled me away from him, it was getting louder and louder until.

“Good Morning sleepy head. Yelena woke up so I heated up some breast milk you have in the freezer and I rocked her back to sleep, we should have about another hour and a half before she wakes up again” Lando said as he walked into our shared bedroom, his feet heavy as they padded against the bedroom floor.

A smile peaks on my face “Thank you handsome. I love you so much, you’re too good to me” I said sleepily as I welcomed Lando back into the comfort of our king size bed.

it had been 4 months since I’ve given birth to Yelena and it had been the best 4 months of my life.

I mean I really did have it all, I had an amazing boyfriend, a wonderful daughter, whom had an amazing dad, I had gotten a job at McLaren as Lando’s food prep and nutrition manager which allowed me to travel with him and keep my daughter with us.

After I’ve gotten the job, one of the first people I told besides Lando, was Logan.

That moment we shared after I’d given birth to Yelena replays in my mind almost every morning and I can’t help but yearn for us to be a happy family together.

We all can’t have what our hearts yearn for though, can we? Not after what Logan did to me, the way he made me feel, how much I wanted to die with every moment I stayed with him, how ungrateful he was whenever I did something for him, the way he hurt me day after day, how he always told me I was crazy when I brought up him not loving me and how he tried to win me back after telling him I was pregnant again before leaving.

Logan was excited to hear that McLaren had offered me the job as Lando’s Food Prep and Nutrition manager seeing as that it would allow not only me to travel with them but Yelena could too. Logan wouldn’t have to resort to seeing her every 2 months or whenever his job could let him escape for a minute.

Traveling with Yelena would be a bit of a hassle but thank god that Lando’s current nutrition manager had 3 more months before his contract was up so that allowed me to mentally prepare myself for having to travel with a baby for work.

“What’re you thinking of?” Lando mumbles against my neck as he rubs his hand up and down my side before they landed on my waist and drawing imaginary circles.

“Us. How lucky I am to have you with me even when I was pregnant and how you stayed, even during the hard nights.” tears welled up in my eyes as I recall some night we had. “How whenever she was keeping me awake with the kicking how’d you stay up with me and rub my belly until she stopped, how you’d wake up whenever I had my weird cravings, because there were so many” I let out a sniffle as the tears that once threatened to fall came pouring down.

a sniffle leaves Lando’s nose “so many” he lets out a light chuckle “and you know what Y/N/N?”

“What?”

“Even though Yelena is not biologically mine, she’s the second best thing that’s happened to me. The Miami win is first, you’re third” a chuckle elapses past my lips as I playfully swat his arm “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re number one, you always have been and you always will be. I wish to live in no world at which you are not in, I’d rather die than let you live without me beside you.”

I’d rather die than let you live without me beside you. If Lando knew about the same dream I’ve been having since that moment between me and Logan in the delivery room I don’t think he’d be saying this. I’ve made my feelings very clear to Logan that night I left our apartment and Lando knows, so why am I dreaming about him, about us being a happy family?

I want to confide in someone about these dreams but I don’t want them to go to Lando with it before I’m ready to tell him. What would Lando think if I did tell him? Would he leave me? Would there be a possible explanation on why I keep having these reoccurring dreams? Do I want to be with Logan? No. No, that one I’m very adamant on. I want nothing to do with Logan relationship wise. I mean he has been a great dad to Yelena but he’s not fit to be my boyfriend or husband, so co-parenting it is for us.

I mean I’m not complaining about that right? I’m the one that left him knowing I was pregnant, I’d be an ass if I showed up to a grand prix walking into the Williams garage being like “Surprise Logan, we have a daughter” you know, I wasn’t that stubborn enough to do that to him.

“We should go back to sleep but I have better plans” a smirk made its way on Lando’s face as he reaches for the covers to put it over our heads. His hand travels lower before they reached the waistband of my already soaked panties, his fingers moving the fabric to the side before moving them between my fold slicking them in my juices. I can feel Lando’s fingers ghosting my aching hole before a cry breaks my heavy breathing.

No, No, please go back to bed I thought “I’ve got her Y/N/N, just stay here and wait for me to come back.” Lando presses a kiss to my lips before he retreats to the nursery. The thought of my boyfriend taking on a dad role turning me on. I fully removed my panties and stuck two fingers in my aching cunt awaiting Lando’s return, before I could actually give myself some pleasure my phone buzzes on the nightstand.

A loud and frustrated sigh leaves my lips as I flip over and look at the caller ID “Logan ‘Merica Sargeant” a shaky breath escapes past my lips as I press answer

“we need to talk”

ENJOYYYYY (i have work)

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brightlotusmoon · 9 months

Text

Husband made a pizza.

Handmade Sourdough starter yeast*: Ragi flour, bread flour. One duck egg. Salt. Greek olive oil. Mixmaster.

He would let the dough rise and rest, adding that flour mix and different points. The measurements of his flour are never exact.

After he stretched the dough out, adding cornmeal under the crust, he let it rest on the pan. He added the sauce. Let it rest. Added cheese. Let it rest.

One pizza had black garlic mixed into the sauce with ranch powder mixed in the crust. One pizza got pepperoni with Cajun seasoning in the crust.

Guys. This is the airiest, lightest, crispiest pizza I have ever eaten. I'm stunned. The pepperoni gives it weight, the black garlic gives it flavor, it explodes on my tongue because there is literally no weight.

*that yeast grew to have the loveliest funky smell, it was delightful.

#my husband is a sorcerer

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littlepuddingsworld · 2 months

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Okay, this is going to sound insane, but please hear me out.

In the 19th century, there were doctors who specialised in curing "female hysteria", which was often just misdiagnosed sexual frustration (Whenever women were too out of control for men to handle, it was diagnosed as hysteria. So it was basically anything, sexual frustration included...). The cure was fingering...yeah. It was relatively normalised to, as a doctor, finger someone's wife...quite a way to make a living. There was basically a handbook written in Latin about how you do it (oil up your hand, insert here, there will be muscle contraction, the lady in question will breathe heavily before ultimately having a hysteria paroxysm (this is a former medical term for orgasms btw)). Obviously, there were mixed opinions about giving another man's wife an orgasm, however, the Catholic doctors concluded that it cannot have been sexual, since there was no penetration. "It's our duty as doctors to cure these poor women of their hysteria, Sir 🫡"

FUN FACT: Since some doctors would experience wrist pain from the...hard manual labour, they invented a device that does it for them: The vibrator. When the vibrator was first used in pornography, the doctors said NOPE and left their profession behind. In 2011, there was a period romcom made about this called Hysteria. It's not even that bad, unironically. Oh and by the way, the name hysteria is derived from the Greek word hystera, meaning uterus, hence why only women were diagnosed with hysteria.

Anyway, getting to my point:

Imagine a yandere thinking that you're being incredibly hysterical, emotional, out of control and then proceeding to sit you down and curing you of your hysteria the old-fashioned way...

They either do it knowingly, or are just too oblivious to even realise that what they are doing is...not quite the correct solution for the problems they caused you in the first place...

Just wanted to share this with someone...take it as you will...

,,, to be honest, I knew about the hysteria, but I didn't know about the fact that a vibrator was created that way,,,, sexy big brain<3333 i love your words so much, mercury kissed you at birth,,,, very brainy, very many cerebral convolutions, I love it,,, come here to kith kith pretty pie—

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

your husband is so sweet, so adorable — especially when he's on his knees in front of you, purring something about how he should help you, as if it's not his personal fault that you feel like this.

... ♡ unhealthy relationship, misconception of the century / time, hierarchical society, mild sexism? (more classism?), mild maledom elements, mention of religion, forced marriage implied, male pregnancy mentioned because no pregnant reader, unethical treatment methods?; doctor!noble!husband x darling!reader

dubious consent (dubcon) -> consensual sex, crying, mild sadism/masochism, mention of degradation (g.), hair pulling (g.), oral sex (r.), mild fingering (r.), praise (r.)

If THEODORE had been told that he was "mistreating his darling spouse", he would have

agreed.

It was logical: if he treated you well, then would you enter into a frenzy of emotions, scream and look as if you were about to faint before falling at a table made of pleasantly smelling wood, — Theodore knew that you love this variety; almost all tables, chairs and other wooden utensils was of this sort, — completely exhausted, unable even to drive away your narrow-minded husband, only waving a fragile palm in his direction, as if desperate, while he took your fan, straight from the hands of the best chinese craftsmen, and gently fanned you, letting you hang head? Of course not.

You, his breathtaking spouse, were so touching and gentle, full of spring charm and a few drops of exquisite, expensive coquetry, like the first flowers in spring — delicate, almost transparent, not at all like the luxury of scarlet roses that gardeners grow every season, or the exuberant scent of lilac and juniper, especially in July. Not at all. Your charm was subtle, unique, corresponding to the rumbling of the first rivers or the first drop falling from the roofs after the melting of the snow. You have never been a socialite — never; parents were rich enough to support you and your siblings, but not rich enough to live in idleness and not worry about money.

You were introduced at the first ball and attended others from time to time, but most of the time you couldn't afford to walk around with "old dresses", not wanting to be considered poor or shame family by not being able to buy new clothes. Theodore understood perfectly well — being from a not-so-rich family, somehow coping with this whole world, you simply could not afford to live bohemian, expensive and shameless out of fear that money was too little, as if you did not even think that you could just marry someone rich and sponsor with their help your family. Theodore didn't blame, having heard about you for the first time from the mouths of other dandies who follow every new "coquette fan", more than an eloquent sign of finding a partner, though; "too conscientious and didn't understand how this world works" or just a prude,

but now, he understands that you just knew your worth and waited for someone like

him.

After all, in a world where divorce can only happen after death, and infidelity is punished by an enraged spouse with a knife, how could you easily marry someone? You were so alluring, like ripe peaches filled with juice — naturally, not everyone can and should touch your delicate, perfumed hands and caress skin so soft that no overseas silk can compare.

Theodore was sure that there were words about you: "If the cost of their kiss was hell, // then I will kiss their lips, // so that in hell I can brag to the devils // that I was in heaven without even entering it." Because you were paradise, it didn't matter if you smiled, cried or screamed — or were "not a couple who deserved," but only because you could have become the monarch's spouse right away, but he found you earlier.

He had no doubt that you were special — definitely to him. Therefore, he did not think long before he came to your parents to take you to his estate, in the sweetly itchy haste of first and only love, kissing your hands and touching the slightly trembling fan with thin fingers while you looked down in frightened amazement, while your parents confusedly exchanged glances, not understanding why he came to "court you". Theodore did not ask if you had someone — after all, if you had, you would rather slit your throat than let another touch your thin fingers, because he would have done exactly the same in your place if he were still a dependent young man (now, of course, he was not — having studied at a very prestigious university, where his parents also studied, he was more than an enviable independent bachelor and knew it). And if earlier he was afraid that, what if!, was not "normal", then when saw you, he knew that he had been waiting for you all this time — and you were undoubtedly waiting for him too.

If, in order to be with you, he had to refuse the sky, the sun and the moon, he would do it without hesitation. This is love — Theodore had no doubt that you yourself understand this.

Your parents, however, soon dispelled his prejudices. You didn't just "didn't understand it" — you weren't like that, but Theodore, hesitating only for a few seconds, realized that you just weren't like everyone else. While others were blinded by love, like him, you couldn't be like that — you just didn't understand it, didn't feel like that, and your parents were only afraid that your "defect" in the marriage market would make you lonely for the rest of days.

Theodore, however, did not think so: you were the same age as him, he was childless, unmarried, rich and educated, had an estate with intelligent and trained servants, good sources of income, a lot of free time, did not have the habit of drinking a lot of alcohol or tobacco, — and the fact that you were allegedly "not sensual enough" was, of course, stupidity. He wasn't going to use the fact that you can't pick up a knife to kill an unfaithful spouse! And I wasn't going to cheat! He won't do any harm! Yes, you may be a little... very very little defective-ish, but isn't love blind? He will accept you at any cost, even with such a... 'setback'.

... Of course, it is wrong and even abnormal that you cannot kill someone who is cheating on you, and are not ready to die just to be with someone you love, and that it is wild for you to give up everything for your beloved... But Theodore understands that you are already too perfect, and it's okay to have flaws. He's not thirteen anymore.

As long as this is not passed on to children, everything will be fine, please, don't worry, ma joie, — he gently whispers to you, touching gloved fingers, stroking fingers gently, looking into your very happy face ? — I'll accept you for who you are, even with this. With everything. Because you and I, being whole by ourselves, become more than just "ourselves" together.

And it was true, don't get him wrong! His pedigree was good, he was, uh, "thoroughbred," and his family tree was beautiful, worthy of your hand. Theodore was not self-confident, but he was confident, buying everything you want, not walking through salons and entertainment houses and not being in any dubious circles, his entourage was only intelligent people who had an education and could both write and read, and not in two languages, and there was no one in his circle someone of the same gender, and he wasn't squeamish or suspicious. After all, what else can you worry about? But you were worried. Over time, it's even a little noisy.

You shouted, sometimes threw yourself, behaved strangely, as if he was not a refined learned man who was your shadow and wrote poetry to you, not forcing you to do anything even after your approved marriage, but a brute or an invader. Did he take you away without permission? Perhaps using his status in society to a little and influence your parents with children who have not yet appeared to the beau monde, and used a little influence to convince these people that he will help your siblings in the future to find a better match than they can now count on — but then why does he need it: status, influence, reputation, — if he can't even convince his love to stay with him? Otherwise, you can't blame—

... Oh wait.

You can.

Theodore realizes with annoyance, sitting hs office with a book in hands, writing notes in diary, and adjusts his glasses: he had completely forgotten — you're "not like that." You're different. Your parents told him. You understand love differently, you look at your partner differently, you cannot understand the concept of love itself... Theodore used to think that they just raised you wrong, but now he understands what they meant: that the feelings that ordinary people spend on a partner, you leave inside, letting them accumulate, and when you realize that you can no longer, you emotionally explode and behave as if something is wrong with him or you — it's obvious! You just can't do it any other way! Of course, why else would you be unhappy with your situation? After all, it's natural that your family hardly communicates with you or that you can't spend a lot of time outside the house — everyone lives like that, except the unmarried! You just don't understand it!

Because you are so emotional, so sensitive, so responsive, that, naturally, you need special care and care, and not a sidelong glance from your husband, who behaved so coldly, only supporting, but not helping you in any way! After all, he studied at the best university, was one of the best students, even had an internship and, of course, corresponded with his comrades, learning new ways to deal with diseases and disorders. After all, what kind of "good husband" is he if he can't even help his gentle, easily excitable spouse cope with their, he's not afraid of that word, illness?

You just don't understand...

“... Darling, we need to make one thing.”

You are gentle, soft, not submissive — both in clothes and under them, and although you may consider him a little pathetic when he whispers it to you, burying cold nose in your thigh like a lost dog, but after shouting and throwing things, you are no longer so full of destructive energy. Holding him tightly by the hair, you look down with pursed lips, but do not answer anything — and in expensive clothes, with jewelry, sleek and clearly not deprived of the love and affection of a bohemian husband, you look like a deity that descended from heaven.

Theodore knows that he must decontaminate for sure, but what can a spouse hide from a spouse, right? After all, you are more than a "single whole", especially when he is sitting on his lap, no problem as long as you are sitting on a chair made of your favorite wood, soft and comfortable enough, allowing him to carefully get rid of excess clothes without disgrace, looking at how thin lips touch your skin in a respectfully pious way.

Even your heavy breathing from the outburst of emotions sounds like music that should be played in the church if they want the heavenly ambassadors to descend.

Is he too "sugary"?

No, he's just a realist.

“Darling, please...”

You don't push away even when fingers gently touch your thighs like feathers, just frowning a little harder. But not by pushing it away. You are smart, you always have been, and, of course, you yourself understand that you are sick, and only he, as your husband and doctor, can help you. It's natural. Why do you need another men- or women- another doctor? How dare someone else touch you? Only you can touch him and only he can touch you. He's yours — a husband, a doctor, anyone. As soon as you become healthier, he will definitely be your lover — and maybe one day you will take a child or will he carry it. After all, how dare he sleep with you and use you, so gentle and airy, like a messenger from heaven, while you are so deeply ill, not even really knowing what love is and how to react to it?

“Darling... It's just a little help. Just say the word and we'll stop anytime. I don't want to harm my spouse, you know... Besides, you can always stop me by force.”

You yourself spread your warm, soft, almost plush thighs while he meekly looks up from the bottom, trying to unobtrusively encourage you to let him just look a little. Theodore was not an expert on issues related to sex life or the influence of genitals on human behavior, — although, undoubtedly!, it was important, but he preferred less dirty things, — but now, kneeling in front of you on a soft carpet, stroking your skin, it did not seem something vile or dirty, animal, but for some reason pleasant and... airy-natural; the very sight made him want not to wince and turn away, but not to look away, even when you pull his hair harder, frowning, clearly not too willing to continue this, but it's better than if he drags you to someone else.

You knew yourself that your husband sometimes got too involved with the human body in a not too, uh, "harmless" sense, but it was never dangerous or illegal, unless against the law of god, so you let him correspond with 'friends' and 'colleagues', studying new diseases and learning more about experience and practice. But if you knew that one day you would be the subject of research, you would definitely throw his ink and letters into the fireplace — along with other things.

“Mi único... I want to help... Do you know what hysteria is? This is when a darling behaves very much... emotionally because of the internal tension. And so we have recently come up with a... new way to deal with similar diseases. It can help our marriage... Te quaeso?”

Theodore is not an idiot; rather, he feels like a trainer or a tamer, gently pushing and touching, without making any sudden movements while you look at him, gradually relaxing the tense body, letting his fingers, slightly slippery from oil and disinfectants, touch the delicate skin of the inner thigh, massaging and stroking, not hurrying. He doesn't have much experience — practically none, you never shared a bed even after the "wedding night", — but there is enough theory and ideas how to use it, especially when thin, slightly cool fingers slowly touch the skin under stomach, stroke as lightly as possible along a sensitive line, kissing with warmed lips the skin. If he could, he'd love to just open his mouth and eat you, or at least nibble — but he's not the type who eats his darling and then walks around saddened widowers and widows without the opportunity to remarry, he's a more sophisticated type and definitely not that creepy, even if the way you are you pull his hair as fingers gently circle around, rubbing and stroking, using precum for better contact, makes his eyes water and his mouth open slightly, breathing, feeling too ambiguous even for a "husband", let alone the role of the "doctor" in which he was.

“Please... d-darling...” He chirps something slightly hoarsely, stroking, caressing, breathing every other time, as if you are holding not by the hair, but by the throat; when his fingers tremble slightly, you hiss, making him blush slightly shamefacedly, as if from your swearing, — but he tries not to break the rhythm, ignoring, as befits a refined well-mannered husband. Do well-mannered husbands use their fingers on their spouses? Theodore doesn't have that much experience to respond, especially when you flinch slightly, curling your toes, — and he wants to bite just to remove this strange shameful, almost perverted feeling of a mixture of lust and guilt inside, clearly not too approved by religion, but when you start breathing shallowly and harder, closing your eyes, Theodore moves his fingers faster, watching your face.

Is that right? You don't hold him so tightly, but don't take your hand away, and his fingers are so slippery and wet that he's almost ashamed, as if it's all his juices, and he definitely should at least look away, but this is scientific curiosity, just curiosity, even when he changes his position, sinking lower shamelessly, feeling himself for a moment, it really was some kind of fallen man from entertainment houses, with an implicit gurgling feeling in the lower abdomen, listening only to your breathing and slightly squelching sounds. Theodore hardly breathes, looking at his fingers, trying for a moment to distract himself with the fleeting thought "good that cut nails" — but when your... your bare foot touches his shoulder, it seems so perversely seeing your calves that he does not know where to look — freezing for a moment, his eyes are drawn only to you, even if it looks so... sweetly vulgar, completely wrong, — but you're already married, so it's okay even if you're not like that, right? It's okay when he sees something below your neck and bare arms, it's okay when you squeeze his hair tightly again, it's okay when he hears your hot, loud breathing, as if you're breathing directly into his red ears, although he can't even look up from the way you're holding him.

Your fingers are strong, dexterous, squeezing his strands so hard that he can't move anywhere, but for some reason he is too pleased with this than he should be, even when Theodore feels like you are pushing him even closer shamelessly, as if he is not your, actually, noble and high-minded husband, who is now plays the role of your doctor, helping you with your "hysteria", but some kind of fun boy!

Outrageous!

“D-darl-!~”

You hiss something, almost growl — and pull too hard, forcing Theodore to briefly let out a distant sigh without resistance — and obediently open his mouth, hastily removing his fingers so as not to interfere before he finds a new, more comfortable place. His eyes are slightly watering from the mild pain, but when he does not see a shadow of the old irritation or anger in your face, he obediently sticks out the tip of his red tongue, not trying to shirk his doctoral duties — or is this already a marital duty? Theodore doesn't know, he's not sure, — especially when you hold him even tighter, not listening to what he says, knowing that if he really was "against it", he would have already got out, and not looked at you like a fawn at a hunter, as if it wasn't because of him that you were here, with legs spread apart and heavy breathing from the heaviness in the lower abdomen.

Is this really what he was taught at university?

A boy for fun.

The corners of your husband's eyes turn red, but he does not try to say anything or justify himself, — why should he? — making inarticulate sounds, but only moving his head, hesitantly holding your hips as much as he could do it respectfully and unobtrusively; after all, he is a learned man, even if he was kneeling like some kind of animal or a slave.

When Theodore awkwardly, clumsily moves his tongue, trying to make sure that you feel good, for some reason the world feels much brighter and sharper, — especially when the heat gets stronger, making you tremble slightly, feeling a wide tongue and thin flexible fingers, as if they are perfect only for this, but there is less air in your lungs than you need to continue dirty deservedly whisper to him how low he has sunk, from his 'writing letters to the best doctors he studied with' to kneeling in front of his spouse.

It's not that you're going to stop him or let him change his position, of course, but just force him to continue doing what he's good for, while he's almost meowing, almost purring, not trying to pull away anymore.

... It's not that he's wrong, though.

You definitely feel better after a little therapy.

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