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whorekneecentral · 10 months

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Tis' The Season

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: old friends reappear, flashbacks in italics, complicated relationships, expensive gifts cause it's lew lew duh, uses roscoe as an in, brocedes mention, alcohol and the consumption of, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, creampie, soft moments at be end.

Word Count: 2,668

Author's Note: love me some lew lew and he gives fuckboy turned lover boy so here we areeeeee

merry smutmas series

An old friend finds his way to your front door and no matter how much you try to get rid of him, you can’t.

A knock on the door startles you as you hung the ornament on your Christmas tree. You shout that you're coming, grabbing your wallet out of your purse, as you jog to your front door. You assumed it was your take-out delivery guy and that's not who it was when you opened the door.

The man smiles at you, bags in hand and puppy between his legs. "Hi beautiful," Lewis smiles at you, bundled up in his winter coat.

You huff, looking at him. "Hi Lewis.. what are you doing here?"

He lifts the bags, showing you. "Happy holidays, y/n. I come bearing gifts."

"Seriously?" You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, Roscoe barks and gets your attention, you crouch down to pat his side, the dog leaning into your hand before waddling his way into the house. Lewis doesn't stop him, smiling at you.

"Are you gonna let me in, love? Roscoe is already inside, it'd be rude to let me freeze out here."

You don't have the heart to let them freeze, especially since you know how Roscoe loves him so much.

You let Lewis in, the man takes his shoes off by the door and follows you down the hallway to the living room. Roscoe had already made himself comfortable, shaking off the cold, and lying down by the fireplace. Despite you and Lewis not talking for years, you had left Roscoe's dog bed by the fireplace, as it had always been, picking it up to clean and setting it back in its spot.

Lewis sets the bags on the coffee table, hanging his coat off the arm rest of your couch. "I didn't know if you still live here."

"Well now that you do, I'll have to move, won't I?"

He chuckles, smiling to himself - nice to see your sense of humour has remained.

"Go on, open 'em." He nods towards the gifts on the table. You were adjusting an ornament on the tree, "I don't want it, Lewis."

"Oh hush, don't be annoying, y/n. Just open it."

You rolled your eyes, sitting across from him on the couch and picking up the first bag, the shape was a give away. Carefully, you pulled the bottle of wine out of the bag, some expensive French wine that you two had once upon a time when you took a trip to France. You read the label, setting it down on the table gently.

"Expensive," you eye him and he smiles. "Open the other one." He says quietly, watching as you tear the wrapping paper.

You freeze, the orange box staring back at you, the signature black and white ribbon around the box; Hermes Paris written across the top.

"Lewis.." You look at the man and he nods, waiting for you to go on. You carefully undo the ribbon, taking the lid off of the box. There's clearly a bag in the box, wrapped in a dust bag.

You feel underdressed and dirty, as if you should have showered before opening such a gift. You take the purse out of the dust bag, a Birkin in Bougainvillea - the same shade you had seen so many years ago.

His arm rested over your shoulders, the two of you cuddled on the couch as Lewis flipped through the tv channels. Formula One had wrapped up for the 2008 season and your dearest friend Lewis was now a Formula One world champion.

You, on the other hand, were still in med school.

Lewis had come home for the holidays, a yearly tradition of trashy Christmas movies and Chinese take out had commenced, Lewis picking out something for you two to watch as you flipped through the magazine.

"This one," you tell him, nudging him with your shoulder. "I want this one." You show him the bright pink Birkin bag - in the shade Bougainvillea. It's unrealistically, shockingly pink but it was the newest colour in the collection and you wanted it.

"I'm gonna get this for myself when I finish med school and I'm a rich surgeon."

Lewis smiles, "I'll get it for you, love. No need to wait so long, consider it your med school graduation gift." He kisses your head.

They don't make this colour anymore, you're sure it must have cost Lewis a fortune. "How did you even.. they don't make this colour anymore." You examined the bag, setting it back into the dust bag carefully.

"I know people, y/n."

You hum, "it's too much."

"It's your gift, y/n. I promised you, didn't I?"

You smiled, nodding as you carefully set the bag back into the box. "Thank you Lew, really."

The man smiles, it's been years since he's heard you call him Lewis. You two had a falling out a while back, right after his first championship win with Mercedes - you didn't like the way he treated you, pushed you off to the side as if you hadn't been there for him through it all. Lewis was and still is career driven, it has and will always take first priority to him but it ruined your friendship and it had ruined the same special bond he had with Nico.

In this moment, you let all that go.

The doorbell rings, intruding on your thoughts. "Expecting someone?" Lewis asks, glancing at you as you set the Hermes box on the coffee table.

"No.. oh wait yeah, the take out guy." You say, getting up. Lewis waves you off, getting up and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. "I'm not a broke med student anymore, Lewis. I can afford to pay for dinner."

"As can I, so hush." He says, making his way down the foyer to the front door, paying the man.

You can hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, the man thanks him before the door shuts.

The bags are taken to the kitchen and you see him looking around, clearly looking for something. You decide to put him out of his misery, getting up to help him look for plates. Lewis stops, leaning on the counter as he watches you get the dishes out of the cupboard.

"I'm sorry." He says, his words catching you off guard.

Your brows furrow, looking at him. "What for?"

"For everything. What happened in the past… That was between us and I know that it was my fault, and I shouldn't have said what I said, but I truly am sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but I would just like to start over if you give me the chance."

"Okay," you nod, setting the plates on the table.

"Okay."

He joined you at the table, the two of you sitting quietly and eating dinner like you've done many times over the years. Tonight was different though, there was a sense of relief in the air as if this tension had been lifted off your shoulders after so many years. The quiet sound of cutlery clinking against the dishes and Roscoe's snores coming from the fireplace filled the house.

At some point after dinner, you were putting the dishes in the sink and Lewis asked if he should open a bottle of wine that he brought. You shrug, reaching into the cabinet to get the glasses while Lewis pulls the cork out of the bottle before filling the glasses half way.

The house is quiet as the two of you sit on the couch, Lewis handing you a glass of wine. It's a comfortable silence, Lewis takes a sip of his wine as he looks over at you; he can't help but notice how you've aged beautifully over the years, not in a you look old sort of way but the maturity you've come into seems to suit you perfectly.

Next to him, you seem to make the same realization but with him. Lewis what is a baby faced, starting to find himself boy when you two had you falling out. Now he was grown, and even more handsome than the day you had walked away from him.

You take the first step, setting the glass down on the coffee table before reaching for Lewis's glass, setting it with yours.

The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife, the two of you sitting there in silence, inching closer and closer with each passing second until he finally closes the gap between the two of you.

Lewis's hands find your hips, the man pulling you onto his lap. You settle against him as if you had always been there. His lips trail down your neck, hands slipping under your shirt.

"No," you whispered, your hands wrapping around his wrists. Lewis looked at you confused, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"What?"

"We can't do this here."

"Why not?" He asks and you nod towards Roscoe, the dog still fast asleep by the fireplace.

Lewis can't help but laugh, his forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Love, he's asleep. It's fine."

"Oh my god," you smacked his shoulder, "that doesn't mean we're gonna fuck in front of him."

He raises an eyebrow, "we're gonna fuck?"

"Don't be a fuckboy, Lew." The man ignored your words, his arms wrapping around you, picking you up with ease, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom. Despite the years he hadn't spent there, nothing's changed.

Lewis drops you on the bed and you propped yourself up, watching him get undressed before he sits next to you, his hand cups your jaw and you smile at him. “Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your nose and you scrunch it in response. “You’re cheeky.”

“You love it,” he says, kissing your nose again.

Lewis leans down a bit more and kisses you but you pull away, sliding off the bed. “We can't.” You tell him, about to walk away but he grabs your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, sliding up to rest on his jaw. His beard tickles the palm of your hand as you look at him. Lewis doesn't have to say anything and all the worries seem to slip away in the moment, it was as if you hadn't spent a single day apart.

The man pulls you down on top of him, his hands sliding down your back to rest on your waist as you sit yourself on his lap.

“We-” you go to remind him once more but he cuts you off with a kiss. Lewis flips the two of you over, letting you lay on your back when he gets off the bed, he pulls you to the edge of the bed.

Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Lewis always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in under your clothes and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.

Lewis knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Lewis gives in.

Two fingers pushing into you, Lewis glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. Lewis pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.

Your chest heaving, your grip on his hair loosening now that you’re right on the edge, you’re almost there and he just has to - he’s stopped.

“Why'd you stop?” You sit up, a pout on your lips when you look at the man between your legs.

“Shush, you love hanging on the edge,” Lewis tells you with a smile, unbuttoning his pants.

He lines himself up with you, and Lewis lets you take him little by little, pulling out almost all the way each time before finally pushing into you all the way. He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.

You needed him.

You didn’t want slow, you wanted it hard and messy, the type of fuck where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

“Lew, come on.” Your hand reaches to rest on his hand that’s on your hip. “Need more.”

“Do you?” He hums, moving a little faster.

You know giving him attitude won’t help but you can’t help but roll your eyes, “more than that.”

“Needy,” he calls, pulling you closer by your legs.

Finally, you get what you want, Lewis’s hips hitting the back of your thighs, he leans over you and your arms are pinned about your head, both legs up on his shoulders now. The angle was enough to push you over the edge but he didn’t care.

“Lew please-” you tried to wiggle your hands loose but he didn’t budge.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, mockingly, “isn't this what you wanted?”

“It is, but-” your head tosses back, back arched when he hits the spot he was looking for.

“Oh,” he coos, smiling at you. “Is my baby so fucked out, she can’t even tell me what she wants?” His thrusts are sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were.

“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Lewis finally lets go of your wrists and one of his hands has wrapped around your throat.

“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches for you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.

“Look at me when you cum.”

You’re forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, focusing on him. A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge. He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Lewis follows behind you.

The two of you are still tangled together, laying in bed next to each other. Lewis looks over at you, you look back at him with a sleepy smile on your face.

"Should I.."

"Should you.." you trailed off, waiting to hear what he says. Lewis shrugs, "should I go home?"

You take a moment to think, not about kicking him out - that was never an option but perhaps the things that lead you here.

There's a noise from outside the door, a sort of scratching. Seems like Roscoe had woken up and came looking for you two. Lewis takes the hint, getting up to open the door for the dog. You put on your shirt and your panties and Lewis lets Roscoe in, the dog jumping up on the bed with some assistance from his dad.

Lewis gets under the covers with you, Roscoe settled at the edge of the bed. You look over at Lewis, his hand resting on yours.

"I think you should." You tell him quietly and Lewis's brows furrow, a pout forming on his lips. "I should?" He asks.

You nod, "you should stay."

Lewis lets out a soft sigh, smiling. His hand squeezes yours gently. "I'll stay."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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canmom · 4 months

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youtube

long but fascinating video. the basic criticism is p much spelled out in the thumbnail there: Western music that labels itself 'Persian', 'Arabic', 'Egyptian' etc or serves as soundtracks for Middle Eastern settings is always a mishmash of wildly geographically separated regional elements that almost exclusively refers back to other Western orientalist music, but passes itself off as the real thing enough that most people have no idea what, say, Iranian music actually sounds like. it's certainly true... but the really interesting part for me is the details: Faraji breaks down the stereotypical elements of that orientalist style (the Armenian duduk, melodies that walk up and down the double harmonic major scale, a certain very specific vocal style) and describes what's missing (e.g. the many more common modes of Iranian music which use microtonal quarter tone steps, the complex ornamented articulations, the specific 'accents' of different regions) and in a fascinating bit, makes a similar mishmash of regions applied to Europe to make a parody 'Scottish' song which honestly kinda slaps. he's also got a pretty good analysis of where this stuff comes from in the affordances of Western instruments and VSTs - it's nearly impossible to play microtonal music on a guitar or piano, and Western musicians don't really learn how to do it

I don't have much to add besides 'interesting video!' but I'll definitely be using this channel a bit in the next big music theory post I'm cooking up (which will mainly be about trying to understand the process of composition). he's got another long video on Iranian music theory too and I'm looking forward to checking it out...

#music #music theory #iranian music #canmom vs music #Youtube

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rileyslibrary · 10 months

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Ghost helps Riot decorate the Christmas tree at the base.

Fluff. A gift for my friend, @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot with her OC, Christine “Riot” Vega. (Awesome render here!)

———————————————————————

“It’s too tall.”

“Or, maybe you’re too short.”

Riot shifts her gaze from the Christmas tree to Ghost. He doesn’t regard her back, yet she knows there’s a smile underneath that mask—one of those triumphant, snarky, arrogant, ‘i-got-her-again’ grins.

“Behave, Lieutenant,” she warns. “I’m 1.70, in case you didn’t read my file.”

“Congratulations to the whole 1.70 of you,” he replies and playfully pats her head. “With or without the shoes?”

Riot rolls her eyes and swats his hand away. “Can you just get me the ornament boxes from the warehouse?” She asks.

“You have to be more specific, love,” He says. “The warehouse is a two thousand square meter void filled with cardboard boxes.”

“I don’t have the coordinates, Ghost.” She replies, smirking. “You can ask Gaz whether he planted a GPS tracker in them or, here’s a better idea: how about you search for the boxes labelled as ‘Xmas’?”

Now, he’s the one rolling his eyes. He murmurs a “how unique” and walks to the door to fulfil her request.

While waiting for Ghost to find and retrieve the boxes, Riot tests the new Christmas lights they bought by plugging them into the socket. Once she confirms they work, she starts wrapping them around the tree. Although the task appears to be assigned to just the two of them, it took all five—including the captain who gave the roles—to make it happen.

Gaz chose the tree and bought extra ornaments, then Soap measured its dimensions, ensuring enough lights to cover it. Once aligned, they raked the entire base to decide on the perfect spot. Their prerequisites? It had to be a place where everyone could see it and would do it justice. Unfortunately, they couldn’t agree on a specific location, so they met in the middle and decided to place the tree in the mess hall, the exact same spot it was last year. And the year before it. And the year before it.

Then, it was up to Ghost to carry the tree, and the captain instructed him to help Riot with the “heavy-duty” tasks. Now, all that’s left is for Riot to decorate it.

“I still don’t get why you get to decorate.” Ghost says, placing the boxes on the floor. “Why are we doing chores like measuring and carrying boxes while you get the fun stuff?”

“Because whoever did it last year did a terrible job,” she retorts, emphasising ‘whoever’ and handing Ghost a light strip to continue up to the top. “You guys didn’t even shuffle the decorations. Not to mention that the back was empty.”

“Nobody sees the back,” Ghost argues.

“You don’t?” Riot smirks.

“Nobody sees the back of the tree,” Ghost corrects.

“Well, I do,” she replies, pointing at the top of the tree, “and go a little bit lower over there.”

“Like that?” he asks.

“Like that,” she confirms.

After finishing the light placement, Ghost sits on the sofa. He takes an ornament shaped like a candy cane from one of the boxes and starts playing with it. Riot, on the other hand, gets straight to the job. She opens the boxes and grabs two ornaments. She places one on the tree, removes it and tries the other. She concludes on the latter. She turns around to search the boxes for more ornaments and catches Ghost fiddling with the candy cane.

“You can go if you’re bored,” she says. “I won’t finish anytime soon.”

“That I figured,” he murmurs under his breath, making Riot instinctively place her hands on her waist. He lets a sharp chuckle and shakes his head. “I’m alright here.” He assures her.

But of course, where else would he be alright if not here?

Time passes quickly. Ghost and Riot reminisce about their past Christmases—childhood festivities, memorable Boxing Day gifts, favourite holiday foods, and the annual movies that defined each season. Yet, these beautiful memories end at a certain point unique to each. Maybe those memories have faded away, or perhaps they have purposefully chosen to let them go. And when that happens, when they approach that personal boundary, they stop dwelling on those past celebrations and turn to each other, to the present, to fill them with joy.

Sometimes, Riot shows Ghost different ornaments, and he either picks one or dismisses the options with a casual “whatever” or “there’s no difference.” Other times, Ghost critiques her progress, giving feedback while she decorates. He points out areas needing more attention or playfully suggests she’s gone overboard elsewhere. In return, Riot replies with a firm yet joking, “Go on; you do it then”, and shuts him up.

She lifts one final piece into the air and shows it to Ghost—the Christmas tree topper.

“Seems that I’m too short to reach the top,” she pouts.

“Nonsense,” he whispers and stands up. “It’s the tree that’s too tall.”

He walks towards her, grabs her waist, and lifts her up.

“Now I get why the captain assigned me for the heavy-duty stuff,” he says.

“Drop me, and I’ll stick you up there instead of the topper.” She warns him, chuckling. “Take one more step forward, please.”

Ghost does as told, and Riot places the topper at the top. She adjusts it and lightly taps Ghost’s hand to put her down. They take a few steps back and marvel at the result.

“What do you think?” Riot asks, still looking at the tree.

“Seems alright.” Ghost shrugs. “Should we turn the lights on?”

“No,” Riot replies. “I want all of them to be here when we do it.”

He turns to look at her and nods. She meets his gaze and smiles.

“Thank you for lifting me up.” She says.

“No,” he replies. “Thank you for lifting me up.”

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#cod oc #call of duty oc #cod original character #call of duty original character #christine riot vega #riot vega #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghost x oc #ghost x riot #simon ghost riley x christine riot vega

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skunkox · 4 months

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"Until he gets tired of me."

That's was Darlin's answer anytime someone questioned their relationship with Sam. A pircing but deep pain would shoot through their chest every time they said it. But it was always said in a joking tone and a movement to distract the other person from their face.

No one needed to see how that thought may have hurt them. They knew what they were getting into from jump. Darlin' felt safe. Safer than they had felt in a long time. They found that safety in Sam and were grateful for it. Nothing is promised, and to have had Sam in their life at all was a blessing and a mercy.

As much as they hated the thought of Sam ever leaving them, Darlin' could never blame him. They'd fucked up so many times in their life. People had gotten hurt. They were reckless. In being so, caused Sam to strain himself to care and worry for them.

There were day they wished Sam would just pack up and go. To rid himself the headache of their presence. But whenever they woke, he was always right there, holding them close and tightly.

He'd never do that, though. It was obvious to anyone who actually bothered to see them together. The tenderness in his eyes. The gentleness of his touch. The vampire was beyond sprung for the wolf. He was happy. Like he was finally healing.

Sam wouldn't be going anywhere. Sam learned that about himself very quickly after the first couple of meetings. Darlin' knew as well. A part of their brain screamed to believe otherwise. They hadn't done anything to deserve his grace. His patience. His love. Love that was promised to them until the end of their time.

"Do you think Count Yee-Haw will stay?"

The question had been asked once again. This time, by a young boy named Carlos. He had gotten attached to Darlin' as a toddler and was one of the few pack members that was genuinely happy to see them back.

Count Yee-Haw was the nickname the the pack kids had given Sam. Only they could call him that, though. It was a name bestowed upon him after the collective decided to put his vamp strength to the test. The poor man was literally dog piled and left to hold and stumble around with a minimum of 8 kids hanging off his frame like ornaments. It was a title he was growing fond of.

"Probably. At least until he gets tired of me." Darlin gave the boy a half-hearted smile and pulled forward the hood of his jacket.

"I heard some of the adults talking. They said that he wouldn't stay when you get older." Carlos admitted, frown all too clear on his face. "It's stupid. He obviously loves you. And you're happy now. Isn't that enough?"

The words spoken came from a place of care. Carlos had missed his favorite rebel and defender of Asher's antics. Truth be told, he was worried Darlin' would become uneasy around the pack again and got MIA again. They were more stable with the southern vamp at their side.

Darlin' was about ready to hug the kid in an attempt to soothe his nerves. But a single thought ran through their head. Carlos was a sweet kid. But what he said was just a little nice? Too nice to come from a tween.

"Besides. I don't think you'll ever stop being weird. A d he already talks like an old ma-." Darlin' cut him short with a smack to the back of his head.

"If you think that, why even ask?"

"Because I know you hear them too. And I don't want you guys to go anywhere."

🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇🐺

If you read all that, I'm sorry.

Labeling this as part 1 cause I'm tired. Sorta been drained all week. Hoping to get actually rest this weekend and do a part 2. I have a habit of starting things and not finishing.

AO3 scares me, so small shit will remain here for the time being.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted fic #redacted darlin #redacted tank #redacted sam #sam collins

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contentloadingandstuff · 2 months

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Happy Birthday, Kujou Sara! - Kujou Sara x Male!Reader

AN: Happy birthday to our favorite bird general! Enjoy your little fluffy gift.

You pull on the string, stirring the doorbell to ring out. As you wait for her attendant to open the door, you quickly adjust your wear. Kujou Sara, even if she was your friend, didn't deserve to be treated with anything but your absolute best. Even if the evening was rather stuffy, you chose to prepare your more formal outfit - a blend of dō and hakama, perfect for both official business and casual meetings.

After a moment, the wooden gate is opened and one of Sara's maids greets you with a polite bow. She motions towards the garden where, just a few steps from her, the Tengu stands. She's wearing clothes one would rarely see adorning her body - a modest kimono, decorated only with the sash and her mask. The smile on her lips is as uncommon as her attire.

“Hello! I’m glad you're here.” She speaks, approaching you. “Thank you for coming.”

You meet her halfway. “It's good to see you too, Sara.”

You bow slightly, Sara returning your gesture. Your eyes meet for a moment. Her golden pupils gleam in the red light of the setting sun. You smile. Sara’s lips shift as well, but her demeanor turns a little sheepish as she averts her eyes.

You can't help but think the slight red tint on her cheeks might not be makeup.

Observing the situation, the maid steps in, bowing cordially. “May we invite you inside for a meal, my Lord?”

Sara shakes her head, suddenly brought back to reality. “Of c-course. Please, Y/N, come inside. I've prepared something for the occasion.”

You nod eagerly. “I can't wait to sample your cooking.”

The maid leads you through the gardens and into the guest room where a small table awaits you. You hand over your katana and equipment, taking a place on the mat opposite Sara.

The table is full of various snacks. Crisp and plump Lavender Melons and Sunsettia, cut into sizable slices, shine at you invitingly, perfectly complimenting a wide variety of juicy maki rolls and golden brown tempura. Before you can even reach for one with your chopsticks two bowls of steaming ramen are brought to the table. The thick, soft noodles float peacefully inside the broth, the clouds upon which rests a soft boiled egg accompanied with various greens and a few pieces of ham. The sight of the vibrant yolk lazily streaming down into the soup, let alone the scent of the whole meal, hypnotizes you.

Ironically, it would be a shame to eat such an inviting meal. If it wasn't so delightful, that is. The room fills with quiet, but still enthusiastic clicking of chopsticks as both of you tear into portions. Sara glances at you hopefully from time to time, gauging your reactions. You make sure to nod appreciatively. It takes what feels like mere moments until, amongst comfortable silence, the soup is eaten.

Wiping the remnants of it from your mouth with a tissue, you sigh with satisfaction. The dish was possibly the best thing for this weather, even if the air was so humid. But now that you've eaten, it was time to give Sara something special.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Sara.” You say, reaching your hand inside your sleeve where you hid the gift.

“Don't mention it, please. It's the least I can do to thank you for coming. I'm sure I've distracted you from important matters...” She drifts off when she notices the small, ornamental box in your hand. “What’s that?”

You chuckle. “It is for you, silly. It's your birthday. Surely you didn't expect me to come empty handed?”

“Oh! I…” Her hands move up, covering her mouth in surprise. “T-thank you. I hope the gift wasn't too much trouble…”

She takes the gift from your outstretched hands and begins quickly unfastening the ribbons. When her fingers lift the lid, a set of jars is revealed. Curious, she picks one up and starts examining the label.

Seeing her confusion, you chime in.

“This is, um… that's coconut oil, for your wings. So they remain as pristine as ever.”

Sara looks up at you, slightly wide eyed. Her silence speeds up your heart. Was this a bad idea? Does she already have some? Did you just offend her?

You feel blood rushing to your cheeks.

“I've talked to a scientist from Sumeru some time ago. He told me a lot about the birds of paradise in Sumeru and how they are taken care of in captivity”, you explain hastily. “To keep their wings shining and vibrant, their caretakers use coconut oil to lubricate the feathers. He said that it's better than sesame oil as it helps protect against illnesses and insects. So… I thought of you.” You wave your hands, smiling shyly. “You don't have to accept it if you don't like it though!”

As she listens to you, her mouth opens slightly as if she wants to speak, but closes without a word. She's speechless.

You sigh as your smile fades. Just as you think of how to apologize, Sara speaks out.

“This is incredible. I don't have the words to express how… How happy I am.”

Her voice is quiet and slightly trembling with emotion. The Tengu quickly looks back towards you, a small blush on her face. “Nobody has given me such a thoughtful gift before…”

A stone’s weight is taken off your heart as you see her flustered expression. A genuine smile of happiness and relief creeps onto your features.

After a while of cordial thanks, you finally convince Sara that it wasn't too difficult to get, even if you had to import it from Sumeru. Having received this gift, Sara's mood was only improving as the evening went by, filled with idle chatter. You've shared stories of other generals, funny encounters you've had, as well as more genuine hopes for the future.

The night came long ago, and it was time to go home. Sara, although clearly tired, insisted on walking you at least to the estate doors. But as you were walking through the garden, unbeknownst to you, Sara discreetly dismissed the maid following you. She quietly disappeared behind the nearest corner, leaving you two alone.

You pull the door, opening one of its wings enough to slip through. Your turn to Sara.

“Thanks for inviting me. They say you're stiff, but they don't know just how enjoyable hanging out with you really is.”

Sara shakes her head. “No, no, I’m the one that's more thankful here. I couldn't even begin to imagine what this day would look like without you. Had you not come, it would simply be another lonely evening.”

“Signing yourself off to the grave already, Sara?” You chuckle. “I hope next year's celebration is even better than this one.”

She snickers as well. “Impossible. Nothing will best today.”

“I surely hope not!” Your turn back towards the door. “See you tomorrow-”

“Wait!” Sara says hastily, grabbing your sleeve. You stop dead in your tracks.

“Yes, Sara?”

“I know it might be inappropriate of me, seeing as you've given me so much already…” Her eyes shift between the pavement and you. “But, if I may have one more wish to ask of you.”

“Of course. It's your day, after all.”

Silence.

“So what would you like me to-”

She steps up and embraces you. You let out a surprised sigh, but quickly welcome her gesture. Her arms wrap around your torso as her face buries in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you”, she whispers. “Thank you so much.”

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #kujou sara #genshin impact kujou sara #kujou sara x reader #kujou sara x male reader #kujou sara x you #kujou sara x y/n #kujou sara fluff

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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More complete list of ways that websites and books about gardening shamelessly misinform and confuse people

Using any combination of cultivar names, species names, genus names, and common names to refer to plants, leaving well-intentioned gardening noobs fighting for their lives in a lawless wasteland. Just look at this Better Homes and Gardens article on salvia.

Salvia is a genus of plants containing hundreds of species, including culinary sage, rosemary, and many species used as ornamentals. The Better Homes and Gardens list ruthlessly mixes common names for sage species with cultivar names, without giving the binomial Latin species name at all for a single one...

...and refers to two totally different plants only as "purple sage" in the same listicle

On that note, acting like "variety" is just as important as, or interchangeable with, "species." Just read an article that said "some varieties of this plant can be invasive, so make sure to check which ones are prohibited in your area!" No. NO. No specific cultivar of an invasive plant species is going to be non-invasive. In fact, introducing new cultivars of an invasive plant will make the invasive species problem WORSE because that's new genetic material. 'Bradford' pears are invasive in the US, 'Cleveland' pears are also invasive, because they're BOTH PYRUS CALLERYANA, but the website you're buying them off of doesn't SAY that, AUGHH

Referring to plants that are enthusiastic or aggressive growers as 'invasive.' I falsely believed so many native species were invasive simply because some dumbass article decided to call them "invasive" for the crime of being able to grow in a lawn. The same websites will turn around and say that a 100% virulent invasive species "can become aggressive in some gardens" WHSFDHHKKK???

Gardening books describing a gorgeous native flower that doesn't die instantly when you think a negative thought about it: "Invasive. Evil. Kill on sight." Gardening books describing one of the worst known invasive plant species in human history that's decimating ecosystems as we speak: "This plant can be a teensy weensy bit vigorous."

totally failing to explore what it means for a cultivar of a plant to be "sterile." Here's the thing. The 'Bradford' pear was supposed to be sterile, but it was not, the cultivar was just made up of clones of the same plant, and most plants can't fertilize themselves. When another cultivar of Pyrus calleryana is planted close to it, such as the 'Cleveland' pear, surprise surprise, THEY AREN'T STERILE.

IIRC it is possible to produce truly sterile cultivars by breeding a plant that can't make seeds/fruits and cloning those plants by vegetative propagation. A cultivar of cloned, genetically identical plants with completely unchanged reproductive ability is NOT STERILE, it is just banking on no other cultivars of the plant ever existing nearby. Which is deeply stupid.

Yes, "cultivars" (the names in single quotation marks next to the name of the plant in a nursery label) are generally just groups of clones of the same founding individual. I'm not a fan of cultivars because they're basically Petri dishes for breeding disease. E.g. The Emerald ash borer was able to so thoroughly decimate ash trees in the USA partly because the gene pool of planted ash trees in American cities was 2-3 individual trees big. Now ornamental boxwoods seem to be dying off en masse in my area, and the reasons are probably similar.

#plants #gardening

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pixelpony-cc · 1 year

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CC Show Rugs for Sims 4 Horses

🍂Introducing: SmartPak Luxe Collection🍂

My first attempt at CC! I'm so excited to be sharing these luxurious show rugs. I've used @objuct's turnout blanket mesh to create two versions of show rugs for all your fancy horse needs!

More info and download links below-

There are two styles of rug available: a quilted and a wool version!

The quilted rug features simlish SmartPak labels and elastic straps, fluffy artificial fleece around the neck, and a leather front strap.

The wool rug features a rope piping border and hip ornaments, an artificial fleece neck, and a leather front strap. Feel free to customize with your own barn name!

This took way too much time and also my sanity while I was trying to learn how to blender. I have SO MUCH respect for all CC creators, especially the amazingly lovely and talented creators in the Sims 4 Horse community!

The cc used here is listed below:

Original blanket mesh and shipping boots by @objuct

Halters and fluff by @emelie-png

Halter and shipping boot recolors by @walnuthillfarm

Photo backgrounds by @cath-cc

SimFileShare || Alt: Patreon (free!)

#my cc #sims 4 #sims 4 horse ranch #sims 4 horse cc #ts4 horse cc #sims 4 maxis match #maxis match cc #sims 4 horses #ts4 horses #equiliberty #ts4horsecascc #tack #blanket #show rug

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 9 months

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For the past couple of Christmases I've just been giving my family garden produce, and it goes down really well. I live alone so I get way more apples, nasturtiums, various herbs, etc., than I can use; I just make capers and apple chips and dried herbs and stuff and put it in recycled jars and handwrite cute little labels for them, then make five identical gift baskets and hand them to everyone. (There are no little kids in our family any more so I don't need to worry about disappointing them with something boring.) I was nervous doing this because I figured people would be polite but not too jazzed about getting identical gifts instead of carefully personalised selections of Yet Another Random House Ornament or something, but it turns out that no, they all love my homegrown snacks. Costs me like 5 bucks per gift for the box and cute ribbons and tags, plus a bit of time cooking and drying things. If you have an orchard or herb garden you should try it out.

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whorekneecentral · 10 months

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Christmas On The Farm

Erling Haaland x Fem!Reader

Warnings: family christmases, stealing a tree, use of an axe, getting caught, soft boyfriend erling, a few cheesy moments, fingering, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation kinda, penetrative sex (p in v), nipple sucking, creampie, getting caught in a different way :)

Word Count: 2,357

Author's Note: omg it's the big mannnn, anytime I think of erling, I think of the farm so here we are lmao - also this is for pookie too sorry lmao all her bfs are in here

merry smutmas series

Erling takes you home to spend the holidays at the Haaland Family Farm and you two end up being the only ones there.

"Are we going the right way?" You look over at your boyfriend, the man driving through the snow.

Erling nods, "I promise I know where I'm going." He laughs, the wind shield wipers make a squeaking sound, brushing the snow away as he slowly makes his way up the road. He turns into the driveway, the snow really coming down as he parks the car.

"It's freezing!" You shouted, running up the front porch stairs to unlock the door. Erling rolls his eyes at your theatrics, getting the bags out of the car before following you into the house.

The door shuts behind him, Erling shaking the snow off of his hoodie.

The two of you had ventured up to the Haaland family farm for the holidays. His siblings and parents were supposed to meet you guys there but due to the snowstorm, their flights were canceled. They would be arriving on Christmas Eve rather than the 18th like the two of you so that left it up to you to get things ready for the holidays.

It takes the two of you an hour to defrost and get comfortable, Erling rearranging things to his liking and you were relaxing on the couch, finally glad to have your boyfriend to yourself and not have to fight for his attention during the season - though you had to give it to him, he balanced everything in his life perfectly.

"We should decorate," he announces, coming into the living room from the kitchen. You look at the man over your book, "okay, with what?"

Looking around, the house lacked Christmas spirit big time.

Before you could gather yourself, Erling's got you over his shoulder as he walks down the hallway. "I can walk, you know!" You say through the giggles, holding onto him.

He smiles, putting you down at the end of the hallway. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes at his childish ways, letting him walk into the room first. The room was used for storage, all sorts of things packed away in boxes and containers. You flipped the switch, turning on the light as he looked around. Eventually you two found the boxes marked for Christmas - ornaments, garland, lights etc.

One by one you moved the boxes into the living room and you started on your tasks.

Erling braved the cold; something that never really bothered him - having his Norwegian blood and all - and strung the lights around the porch railing and roof.

You were working on the inside; wrapping the staircase in garland, changing the curtains to the red and green ones, hanging mistletoe, replacing the regular throw pillows for the holidays ones and things like that. Eventually Erling came back in, helping you with the rest of the tasks, a few miscellaneous things to do here and there around the house.

There was one box left, the big label on the top read ornaments.

"We need a tree," you looked over at him, your hands on your hips.

Erling smiles, "you look.. very wife like."

"Thank you, I guess," you laughed, "but we still need a tree. Do you guys have one somewhere? Did we forget it in the room?"

"You mean like.. a fake one?"

"Yeah, duh." You looked at your boyfriend, the look of confusion on his face. "We don't have one in the house but there's one outside."

"Okay where is it? In the barn or?" You trailed off, waiting for an answer.

"No, we can just cut one down." He says, tossing your hoodie to you. The sweater lands on your face and you move it, looking at the man like he was insane. "I'm sorry, we can.. what?"

"Cut the tree down. There's a few at the back of the property. It stopped snowing so we can make it and be back before it gets really dark."

You put your sweater on, looking for your coat. "Have you ever cut a tree down before?"

Erling shakes his head, putting his own coat on. "No, but it can't be that hard."

He was out the door before you could protest. You really had no choice now, did you? You followed the man to the barn, he pulled an axe out of some trunk and handed you a giant torch light. It was the blind leading the blind, the two of you trudging through the snow to find a Christmas tree.

Sometimes you really wondered what went through this man's head. Then you wondered if you were right in the head, following him through the snow in the dark to find a tree.

You find a few, settling on the biggest one you could get without it being too heavy to carry or too big for the house, and Erling started swinging the axe.

You took a step back; you trusted him but not when it came to chopping a tree down in the dark.

It reminded you of when you were a child, your father yelling at you to hold the light one way while he's doing something and you held it a different way.

So there you were, dragging a Christmas tree through the snow with your boyfriend. "Move faster," Erling says and you grumble.

"We don't all have superhuman strength, you know."

"Just hurry up, babe," he told you.

You grumble again, trying to move a little faster but between the thick snow, the heavy tree and holding the light, it was a little hard to do.

"What's the rush anyways ?"

"Well," he starts and you know that tone; something was wrong. "It's actually the neighbour's tree."

"WHAT?" you stopped, turning to face him. "WE STOLE A TREE?!"

He laughs, nodding for you to keep walking. "It's not that serious babe, just keep walking."

Sometimes you really wondered how you ended up with him as a boyfriend, but the fact that he made you an accomplice to Christmas tree theft is outweighed by how good of a boyfriend he is.

Despite all your huffing, you help him get the tree into the house in the snow off of it. It took about an hour of sorting for you two to settle on a theme for the tree; the classic red, green and gold. The ornaments hung off the branches, Erling strung the lights around the tree before finally plugging it in.

The two of you admired your work, his arms wrapped around you as he hugged you from behind, his chin resting on your head.

Your own hand rests on his, "I cannot believe you made me steal a Christmas tree."

Erling laughs, "is it really stealing though ? The tree is out in the open sooo.." He trails off, making you laugh. You turned to face him, your hands holding his jaw, "you're ridiculous."

He leans into you, kissing you softly. "'Tis the season for giving, baby."

"Yeah, sure."

"Speaking of gifts," he starts, his hands moving to rest on your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "I have one for you."

You brows furrowed, "it's the 18th, babe. You're a whole week early." Your head tilts to the side as you look at your boyfriend. The man smiles, shaking his head as he leans down to kiss you.

It clicks, you realize what his gift is.

"Oh," you giggled, the two of you shifting to the floor. "I like this kinda gift," you whisper, his lips moving to your neck.

"I knew you would," he mumbles into your skin, his cold hand slipping under your shirt. "Erling!" You shrieked, wiggling away from him.

The man smiles, "sorry."

He sits against the couch, watching as you undress in front of him. The leggings sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the sweater and that leaves you in the same blue set Erling loves so much.

You reach behind to unhook your bra but he stops you, “leave it on.”

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the floor.

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace.

You smile, “I know.”

He pulls you to lay on the floor, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Erling pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy and he gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

His fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling.

“Baby, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach.

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger.

You subconsciously spread your legs, giving him more room. Erling's cheek presses to your inner thigh, watching as your face twists, pleasure all across it and your hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied.

Erling can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes.

He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.

He knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Erling gives in - he always gives into you. Two fingers in you and he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.

Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much.

He pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.

“What- why’d you stop?” You asked, pouting at your boyfriend in disapproval.

Erling sits up, patting his lap. “C’mere.”

You manage to pull yourself up, your legs feeling like jelly as you move yourself onto your boyfriend’s lap. Erling's hands resting on your lower back, fingers dancing up and down the curve of your spine. They run up once more before they stop on the clasp of your bra.

He unhooks it, letting the straps slide down your arms and land on your lap. He brings his hands around to your stomach, once again his fingers slide up your soft skin before resting on your tits.

“Erling,” you call, eyes fixed on him.

He hums, his focus on your tits rather than anything you had to say. Gripping his chin between your fingers, he finally looks at you.

“Please,” you mumble, the desperation all over your face. Erling smiles, there's a look you've seen a million times over on his face.

You’re up on your knees, hovering over his lap, your hands under you as you undo his pants. Erling helps you, pulling them down enough for you to sink down onto him. Your hand rests on his shoulder, giving you a moment to gather yourself before starting to bounce on his lap.

You look at your boyfriend, watching as he kisses down your chest, over your tits before his lips wrap around your nipple, tongue lapping over it. Your hand tangles in his hair, his name falling from your lips.

Your back arches a bit, pushing into Erling. His hand moves from your hip to your other tit, fingers pinching your nipple, twisting and rolling it softly between his thumb and index finger.

“God,” you breathe, a hand raking through Erling's blonde hair.

You rock your hips forward and Erling's head drops back into the couch, his eyes fluttered closed.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips on his neck -- a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

Erling can feel the way you were clenching around him and he knew you were close; you knew he was close, his eyes closed and head back.

His hand reaches between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit once again. “Oh my god,” your hips bucked, his fingers matching the pace of his hips, your body rocking back and forth to get the most out of your boyfriend.

“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more.

He knew you like the back of his hand, every look, every touch, every movement, he knew you.

Between the two, he pushes you over the edge. The knot in your stomach comes loose and your boyfriend watches as you cum. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Erling follows behind you.

The two of you are holding onto each other like the other is going to disappear, giggly and love drunk. Your boyfriend peppers kisses all over your face, your arms wrapped over his shoulders.

It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that you two froze, looking at each other. "Erling?!" The voice calls from outside.

His hand covers your mouth, your brows furrowed and eyes widen as you look at him. His lips are by your ear, "it's the neighbour."

You move his hand, whispering back to him. "The lights are on."

"Shhh, they'll go away if we're quiet."

You look at your boyfriend, lips pressed together in an attempt to muffle your laughter. He really did make you wonder sometimes.

#erling haaland #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland smut #football #football smut #football x reader #merry smutmas xoxo

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