#soil judging

[stevesrocksnstuff]

Catch me in the pitttt 😈⛓️

(Look at that pretty gleying!!!)

[mourn-and-watch]

the wildest thing about the state of reading comprehension these days is reading some meta on your dash and thinking yeah that's good. op is totally right. but like. why does it need to be said. isn't that already painfully obvious. but then you find out that op was actually debunking the most popular character misconception that is basically accepted by the fandom and is used for all kinds of memes headcanons and fanart as (sometimes the only one) valid canon characterisation and yeah. it doesn't only need to be said loud and clear but also speaker is recommended as well as writing all of that in bold font on the biggest most visible banner possible

[gongedtornado]

.

[deancity]

i know this doesn't matter to anyone but me but sam and dean should have been given a bar when they were digging up graves

[cowgirlvi]

mdni. sub-top puppy vi. power-bottom fem-reader. ass tribbing. pet play. degradation. orgasm denial. based off this video.

vi masterlist

word count: 1.1k

vi humps her cunt against your ass any chance she gets—sneaking up on you in the kitchen and rutting away like a dumb mutt; grinding her clit against you in the early mornings, while you’re still pliant and sleepy; pulling you into dark, grimy alleyways and pressing you against a cold brick wall, rubbing her clothed-pussy against you and saying, “i’m sorry, baby, i’m—hnghh! needed you, need you!”

and you let her take what she needs; finding a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing she’ll have to wear sticky, soiled underwear until you two get home.

tonight, you return late after a long day, ready to knock out in bed. you should’ve known vi would never let that happen, not when her pussy has been leaking all day thinking about you. 

it’s unsurprising—but nevertheless lewd—to find vi in your shared bedroom, humping your pillow in specific. she has drool dribbling down her chin, teeth marks imprinted into her lips from the severity of her gnawing on the skin. she looks like a feral dog. and, of course, you’ll have to punish her, train her to be a good puppy.

”jesus, baby, how long have you been at this for?” you murmur, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking off your shoes.

fuck, your pillow is soaked through—no doubt, ruined. judging by the severity of the stains, she’s must’ve come at least thrice, rubbing her pussy raw in your absence. you’ll have to throw your pillowcase in the trash, sleep on it bare tonight, all because vi decided she couldn’t keep it in her pants until you got home. what a naughty girl she is.

“i—i can explain, just—“

you shush her plaintively, tugging your pants down your legs, followed by your underwear, and crawl onto the bed. 

“come here, doggy,” you say, nice and syrupy, patting your lap slow as if she’s too stupid to understand. it’s degrading, it’s condescending, and vi’s blood burns white-hot. still, she crawls over to you.

you flip onto your stomach when vi reaches you, and she instantly knows what you’re suggesting, body going boneless, head fuzzy. her round puppy-eyes are wide and a little desperate—especially crazed when she sees your wet pussy squished between your thighs, and she wants to touch you there so badly, but she knows you won’t allow her to, given that she’s been a bad dog.

instead, she settles her cunt onto your ass—and vi has always run hot, but the warm slick of her pussy feels profoundly molten against you right now. she languidly drags her clit along the curve of your rear, huffing air through her nose, and patience is obviously not her strong suit, never has been—poor, needy puppy—so she briskly picks up the pace, having waited for you long enough. her arousal spreads across the skin of your ass in long, soggy stripes.

”oohh—oh, hnngff—fuck!”

she’s mewling high in her throat, digging crescents into the skin of your hips, holding you still like you’re a fuckdoll for her to use. you almost want to scold vi for being so needy, for treating you like nothing more than an object to be played with. but you’re tired after a long day, your mind is mush, and the desperate little noises she’s making are so cute. vi can have her fun for now.

consequently, you melt into the plush of your bed like butter on toast. the damp, pink hair framing her cunt tickles your skin every now and again.

she presses her breasts against your back, hooking her arms underneath your torso like a backpack. her clit feels so swollen against your ass—pretty thing must be flushed purple and red with need—and then she starts rutting against you at a breakneck pace.

”slutty baby,” you coo. “that’s right, just make yourself feel good.”

vi whines in response, high-pitched and vaguely animalistic. “shit, shit, please—“

she’s humping your ass like a dog with a chew toy, whimpering through gritted teeth, and her nails pinch the skin of your shoulders—hard enough to sting. vi’s so far gone, so fuckdrunk, you doubt she notices. and it’s okay, the sharp pain bites pleasantly—makes it even sweeter when you feel big, messy globs of cream drooling out from vi’s hole, warm and glossy against your skin. fuck, her cunt is making a dirty mess of you.

and vi’s pussy has always been a talker, but it’s particularly loud today, especially prominent in the quiet hum of your bedroom—schlick, schlick, schlick. she must have been soaked and needy since this morning. it’s laughable, it’s pitiful. what a dumb doggy.

her skin is hot, fevrish—warming you like a furnace—and you know her clit must be sore from playing with her pussy for hours, must hurt every time she ruts against your ass. you can hear it in her raspy whines, the way she flinches—but, still, she takes what she needs, rocking back and forth like a rowboat.

”always so horny, sweetheart. we gotta do something about that, gotta get you spayed.”

vi gasps, sharp and wounded, as if your words have sunk their teeth into her, shaking her down to the bone. you and your filthy mouth. she should tell you to stop treating her like a dog, stop reducing her to nothing but a mindless, dumb animal.

but she can’t, won’t.

she likes it too much.

rather, she proves you right; rubbing her cunt against your ass with newfound desperation. she’s trembling and panting, whimpering like some poor, pent-up bitch in heat—hugging her thighs around your rear, holding you still, keeping you at the perfect angle to put the right amount of pressure on her clit.

”hah, baby, i can’t take it—“

“go faster,” you interrupt—and vi obeys, like a dog on a leash.

your bed frame groans and it sounds like the wood is sighing—tired and worn—creaking under the weight of vi’s hypersonic thrusts. her lips are at your ear, drool dribbling onto your skin, and fuck, she’s so loud. and you’re muttering filth into the sheets, making her clit twitch against your ass, pushing her closer to euphoria.

when her pace peters out into uncoordinated jerks of her hips, you ask knowingly, “are you gonna cum, sweetie?”

”uh-huh, yes, fuck—“

god, she sounds so cute, so desperate for you—slurring gibberish into your ear—but you can’t help yourself; abruptly, you sit up on your knees, effectively pushing vi off of you. she plops onto her ass, still whorishly naked, except now she looks even dumber, utterly perplexed. she whines petulantly, crawling on her hands and knees toward you.

how embarrassing. such a needy thing.

and you sigh deeply—as if it hurts you to do this, as if it’s not filling you with a sadistic sense of satisfaction—saying:

“bad dogs don’t get to cum.”

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0 @marieeeluvsyou @mxchi-mxxn @el-amor-que-tu-quieres @jinxvex @teddybearbutch28 @stupendousbananasharkcop @nahcala @ellieslob @usuck @idontwannabehereatm @rhian88 @kyur1jinx @absfemme @blackdykegirlblogger @thatgrlnany @addison12459 @f3ralpuppyg1rl @prettyprincess19 @saphhvi @vixxxxxxxen @jinxedbambi @dreamyraincloud @just4jinx @caninecutiez @shlutmeow @urjnxedd @ruelezz @frillynpinkprincess @skizzrkit @billiegabbysyd @grlfraudsqz

(3/14/25)

[fairyminnie444]

your subconscious is simpler than you think it is

✩₊˚.⋆☾╶⃝⃤☽⋆⁺₊✧

The subconscious is the key to any manifestation. It is responsible for materializing in the physical world what you feed through thoughts, emotions and beliefs. Here is the role of the subconscious in manifestation:

1. It is the Executor of What You Believe

• The subconscious accepts everything you feel as true, whether positive or negative, without question.

• It does not judge; it only works to align your external reality with what is imprinted in it.

2. It Reflects Your Internal State in 3D

• Your external reality is a direct reflection of what is stored in your subconscious.

• What you see in 3D today is the result of the ideas and beliefs that the subconscious has already accepted as truth.

3. It Responds to Mental Imagery and Emotion

• It responds best to clear images and intense feelings, such as those generated in visualizations or SATS (Sleep-Akin State). • When you imagine something with emotion, the subconscious registers it as real and works to manifest it in the physical.

4. It is Programmed by Repetition

• Repeated affirmations, visualizations and feelings record new patterns in the subconscious.

• The more you repeat something, the stronger that belief becomes within you, replacing old programming.

5. It Doesn't Know the Difference Between Real and Imagined

• It accepts everything you imagine with emotion as being real.

That's why feeling that something is already yours is so powerful for manifesting.

How to Use the Subconscious in Manifestation

• Affirmations: Reinforce beliefs aligned with your desire.

• Visualization: Imagine your desire as already fulfilled with details and emotion.

• Persistence: Even if the 3D shows otherwise, stay firm in what you want.

The subconscious is like fertile soil. Whatever you plant in it through your thoughts and feelings, it will grow in your reality. Therefore, taking care of what you feed mentally is essential to manifest your desires!

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - February 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Solar farms managed for nature boost bird abundance and diversity, new study finds

“There were more than twice as many farmland birds in the well-managed solar farms compared with the intensively farmed land, and nearly 16 times as many woodland birds. […] Overall, diversity was 2.5 times higher, while woodland birds were nine times more diverse.”

2. Washington judge blocks Trump’s gender-affirming care ban, says it's unconstitutional in multiple ways

“This marks the second time in a week that a judge has stood in the way of Trump’s attacks on trans kids. [… The ruling grants] a temporary restraining order that halts enforcement of provisions in Trump’s directive that would cut off federal funding to medical institutions that provide gender-affirming care to minors.”

3. Fog harvesting could provide water for arid cities

“17,000 sq m of mesh could produce enough water to meet the weekly water demand of [… the] urban slums. 110 sq m could meet the annual demand for the irrigation of the city's green spaces. Fog water could be used for soil-free (hydroponic) agriculture, with yields of 33 to 44lb (15 to 20kg) of green vegetables in a month.”

4. Audubon Applauds Bipartisan Federal Effort to Protect Delaware River Basin with Critical Reauthorization Bill

“The bill would […] ensure long-term conservation and restoration efforts, expand the official definition of the basin to include Maryland, and prioritize projects that serve small, rural, and disadvantaged communities. […] The watershed provides important year-round habitats and critical migratory stopovers for approximately 400 bird species[….]”

5. mRNA vaccines show promise in pancreatic cancer in early trial

“Half of the people in the study — eight of the participants — responded to the vaccine, producing T cells that targeted their tumors. […] Just two of the patients who had a response to the vaccine had their cancer return during the three-year follow- up, compared to seven of the eight who did not respond to the vaccine treatments.”

6. Minn. Lt. Gov. Flanagan Makes It Official; She's running for U.S. Senate

“[Flanagan has] “championed kitchen-table issues like raising the minimum wage, paid family and medical leave, and free school meals.” If elected, Flanagan, a tribal citizen of the White Earth Nation, would become the first Native American female U.S. senator in history.”

7. Federal Funding Restored for Low-Income Alabama Utility Assistance After Outcry

“A program meant to help low-income Alabamians pay their utility bills has resumed two weeks after it was canceled due to an executive order from President Donald Trump. […] “We can confirm the funds are reaching those affected by the previous pause[….]””

8. Modeling study suggests Amazon rainforest is more resilient than assumed

“[Previous] studies were either conducted with global climate models that used a simplified representation of convection [or were on a regional scale….] According to the computations, mean annual precipitation in the Amazon does not change significantly even after complete deforestation.“

9. States are moving forward with Buy Clean policies despite Trump reversal

““Buy Clean is a great example of how states and other nonfederal actors can continue to press forward on climate action, regardless of what the federal government does,” said Casey Katims, executive director of the U.S. Climate Alliance, a bipartisan coalition of two dozen governors.”

10. The rewilded golf courses teeming with life

“A wildflower meadow, ponds, scrub habitat, coastline and even an area of peat bog can be found on this little 60-acre (24-hectare) plot, which boasts roe deer, otters, lizards, eels and a huge array of insects and birds.”

February 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[theskywithin]

🌞 Your Solar Return Sun in The Houses

Every year, the Sun returns to the exact place it touched when you first arrived into this world. It’s a quiet coronation, invisible to most, but your soul feels it. It marks the beginning of a new chapter, a new breath, a new becoming.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 1st House

This year, life cracks the mirror you've been using to judge yourself and places a window there instead. It’s not about how you appear anymore. It’s about how you exist when no one’s grading you. This season asks you to burn every mask you wore just to be loved, and walk bare-faced into the morning. It will feel disorienting at first, like losing a role you've rehearsed for years. But somewhere underneath the discomfort, you’ll find the raw, bright skin of your real self emerging. You are not becoming someone new. You are remembering who you were before the world asked you to edit it. This year, your body, your breath, your being, they are the message. You are not here to be understood. You are here to be. Let the world adjust to your light.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 2nd House

This year, life leads you by the hand into the garden of your own value and locks the gate behind you. It’s a season where you cannot keep leaving yourself for bargains dressed as love. The soil you plant into will be tested: are you building worth from what’s solid, or what’s shiny? Are you trading your roots for rented approval? Scarcity will try to whisper lies to you, that you have to grab, to hoard, to prove yourself. But beneath all that noise, this year offers a quieter truth: what you already carry is enough to sustain you, and anything that costs your peace is already too expensive. This isn’t about ownership. It’s about becoming unbuyable.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 3rd House

This year, the air around you buzzes with messages, but you are being asked not just to speak louder, but to speak truer. It’s not about winning debates or decorating conversations. It’s about cutting through the noise and reaching for the pulse underneath. Words you used to wield like armor will need to soften. Quick wit will be replaced by slow truth. This year, every casual conversation holds a portal. Every passing thought could be a seed. You are building bridges with your voice, not to escape yourself, but to call yourself home. Speak, even when it feels too small to matter. That’s where the real architecture of your year is being built: word by word, breath by breath.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 4th House

This year, life calls you home, not to a place, but to the parts of yourself you abandoned to survive. The walls you once built for safety will start to ache for windows. The rooms inside you that stayed dark out of habit will ask for light. It's not about fixing the past. It's about making peace with the soil that grew you. Family, whether chosen or given, will mirror back where your roots are strong and where they still need water. This is a year of restoration, of quiet revolutions beneath the skin, where nurturing yourself is not an afterthought, it’s the blueprint. Healing will not come in fireworks. It will come in how gently you hold your own name when no one is listening.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 5th House

This year, life dares you to risk joy without an escape plan. To fall in love with the act of creating, not the applause it may (or may not) bring. To laugh so deeply you forget who’s watching. To play without asking if you’ve earned the right to be light. Childhood wounds will flicker, reminding you where you learned that happiness had to be earned. But this time, you know better: joy is not a reward, it’s a rebellion. This is the year you dance barefoot over the broken promises of the past and build new worlds with the music only you can hear.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 6th House

This year, life teaches you that devotion is not a grand gesture, it’s built in the quiet hours. Healing becomes the way you brush your teeth, the way you keep promises to your future self. It’s the year where your body, your mind, and your spirit will ask for a truer rhythm, not the one that keeps you productive, but the one that keeps you alive. You will notice how chaos seduces you into self-abandonment, and how gentleness stitches you back together. It's not about working harder. It's about working with yourself, not against. This is the year you learn that maintenance is a form of magic too.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 7th House

This year, life hands you a mirror shaped like another person, not to lose yourself inside them, but to learn where you end and they begin. Love will no longer be about proving your worth by being needed. This is a season of partnerships that call you higher, not partnerships that ask you to shrink. You will see who holds you because they cherish you, and who holds you because they fear losing control. Relationships will become your classrooms but also your launchpads. It’s not about being chosen anymore. It's about choosing yourself, even inside love.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 8th House

This year, life invites you into the places where you still hide from yourself. Every buried hunger, every secret ache, every boundary you thought you could live without, they will rise. Not to punish you. To free you. Transformation is not gentle here. It peels. It burns. It strips away everything you thought made you safe. But underneath the ruin, there is resurrection. This is the year you stop surviving your life and start inhabiting it fully, even if it means breaking open first.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 9th House

This year, life tosses you a compass and sets your soul loose. It will dare you to believe that you are allowed to outgrow your beginnings. New questions will replace old certainties. Wanderlust won’t just pull you toward places, it will pull you toward parts of yourself you haven’t met yet. This is a season of becoming fluent in the language of your own freedom. You will no longer be asked to explain your expansion to people who never left their front porch. This is the year you live wide and love even wider.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 10th House

This year, life builds you a stage but asks first if you’re ready to be seen without the armor. Recognition is coming, but it’s not the applause that will matter. It’s whether you stayed loyal to yourself when no one was clapping yet. Authority is not something given to you, it's something you become when you decide you are enough. This is the year you sculpt your legacy, not out of success, but out of self-respect. Build what you once needed. Become who you once dreamed about.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 11th House

This year, life pulls you into a bigger story. Dreams that used to feel like daydreams will start to wear real names, real timelines, real forms. Community will no longer be a background hum, it will become a cornerstone. You will find your people, or your people will find you, but only when you dare to dream so loudly the world can't pretend not to hear you. This is the year you stop hiding your wildest visions. You were never too much, you were just ahead of schedule.

☀️ Solar Return Sun in the 12th House

This year, life draws the curtains to bring you back to yourself. It’s a season of invisible blooming, of silent alchemy. Healing will happen where you stopped looking. Miracles will slip in through cracks you once feared. You are not lost. You are becoming too vast to be mapped the way you used to be. This is the year you learn that surrender is not giving up, it’s growing beyond the need to control what’s already been promised to you. Trust the dark. That’s where your light is being remade.

[edenspoem]

18+ servicetop!ellie who has a terrible obsession with stretching you with her fingers. horny and prying for some attention—your girlfriend is already one step ahead. you imagine how soaked you must appear as her hands prop you open, eyes staring softly down there. to be judged, percieved, and asked, “what got you like this?” in that breathy, honeyed voice, is a little tincture of humiliation; you feel yourself growing wetter, and wetter on the fingers that smooth the slick around. soiling the fabric. always accompanied by questions that guide her act. “hey, don't be embarassed to ask me,” sweetening the whole thing with laughter. “what do you want me to do?”

she swallows, throat bobbing as she peels your underwear up, taking your legs with her. they get littered in kisses, following the fabric. you fold them and reconstruct the splayed position she put you in, and she reaches for your hips, grasping the flesh of them in a promising, bruising hold.

those grips etch her excitement for this thing; trying to fill her palms with as much as possible as her tongue cleans your clit, getting all stupid when you give jerky directions that barely leave your lips. a finger slips into your wetness, and invites another when she earns the exact noise that praises her. “fuck,” you shudder, and your body wants to cocoon her.

“yeah?” her tongue folds out at the end of that word, licking a heady stroke. the position lets you see everything; she intends for you to see the shiny corners of her lips, messy with your juices, when she rises and feasts on your thigh, or flashes you a smirk. undeniably concentrated on leaving reminders. phantom, or physical. her brows quirk when she takes you in her mouth again, stretching you with a sneaky third. it takes everything in her not to ask if she can stretch you with something different—something thicker.

her heart pounds in between your legs. she goes insane defiling you this way, raw with her tongue, at your fucking messiest. no way her pleasantly freckled existence caused this; she thinks she looks rather dumb throughout the day. squinting in glasses, poking out her tongue piercing. so unable to concentrate on serious things. but, in bed, she totally can.

you feel her fingers curling against your walls, searching for bliss. a twitch rushes through you when she presses it, and treats you to a pumping of it, eyes bolting shut. “god, babe, m'gonna come.” you bite your lips, enrage the skin. she pulls away to question you, “wanna do it on my fingers?” watching you with an open mouth and eyes dilated with lust. you nod, and she releases a long-held curse, flicking her lashes down. her knuckles—ringed with arousal—push in an inch deeper, creating a squelch each time she pumps out and in and rolled her wrist in a practiced manner that finished you and pulled an immaculate moan out of you, a warm gush trickling down her palm. “fuck, that's it baby.” she throbs at the sight.

credit to the lovely @/ellieabbyy for the ellie picture. now time to write vice versa!

[yasministration]

ok bestie I'm going to need neville x slytherin!reader where she defends him from a bully and he's like 😍😍😍 and then he brings her a special plant or something that can survive in the Slytherin dungeons as a thank you and then she sucks his dick in the greenhouse and absolutely blows his poor innocent mind

ilyyyyy 🫶

grim greenhouses - neville longbottom

summary: when you defend neville against your cousin, he is convinced he has to give you a little gift as a thank you. but what happens when you decide to thank him for his gift? wc: 2.1k+ cw: smut, oral (m!receiving), public sex (in an empty greenhouse), bitch draco

Neville knows you like arguing with your cousin. For entertainment purposes, to fulfil your family duties. But he definitely wasn’t expect you to begin an argument with your cousin by standing up for him. Nerdy, clumsy Neville Longbottom who had barely spoken three words to you all year despite being your charms partner.

“Why don’t you decide to pick on someone else, Draco? Someone who might deserve it?”

Draco scoffed, and you immediately knew he wasn’t going to go down without a fight, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “What, you don’t think Longbottom deserves to be mocked for his embarrassing failures?”

“What failures? Living?” You only realised your words had sounded more like an insult when Theo cackled next to you. You slapped his arm with a glare, and the boy apologised, but his giggles didn’t completely subside.

“Oh dear cousin, are you in loooove?” Draco mocked, a bullying grin on his face. You crossed your arms over your chest, raising your eyebrows sassily. “Maybe I am.”

None of the bodies in the crowd took your words seriously, rising with unanimous ‘Oooh’s’ to enrage your spoiled cousin. Draco broke out into a genuine smile. “Okay, I can’t take that seriously.” But you only stepped closer to Draco, gripping his wrist as you shot him a warning look. You lowered your voice, but Neville still heard you with full clarity as you asserted “I’m serious, Draco. Stop picking on him.”

Draco snatched his arm out of your hold, looking at you with a judging stare. “I’m starting to think you really do like him.” You watched Draco as he sped away with his goons by his side, spinning on your heels to look at Neville with an apologetic smile.

“I really am sorry about him, Neville.” You whispered, soothingly putting a hand on his shoulder before walking away. Neville was frozen in place, watching as you followed your friends out of the courtyard, heels clicking softly on the cement floor.

Neville was only torn away from his gaze when Luna put a hand on his arm, just below the area you had previously touched him. He shook her off, mumbling “I have to thank her.” But Luna was only surprised when he shot off running in the opposite direction, humming in wonder with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Neville rushed over to the herbology greenhouses, walking past the intimidatingly large ones used as classrooms so he could nudge the door to the third greenhouse open. He welcomed the humid atmosphere of this greenhouse, shutting the door behind him. This one was different to the rest, harbouring more dangerous plants that thrived in dark atmospheres. Neville hummed, glancing up at the vines that wrapped around the windows and ceiling, shielding the delicate plants from the fatal rays of sun.

Throwing his jumper on the table, Neville loosened his tie and ushered his herbology textbook out of his book bag. He flicked over to a familiar page, reading over the description of a plant he already knew like the back of his hand.

The smitten boy didn’t need to read over the plant to know it would be his thank you gift for you. Neville rushed over to find an empty pot, adding soil, a few plant seeds, and just enough water to it before hiding it in the darkest corner he could find. Neville wiped the sweat off his forehead, leaving a streak of soil on his face, but at least he was satisfied.

In only a few days, the magical plant will have sprout, and it will be perfect for you.

The next time you found yourself packing your things up after an uneventful charms lesson, Neville shyly asked you “Are you busy now? There’s something I want to show you. Something I got you-well made you.” You smiled at Neville as he rambled on, shaking your head softly, but Neville already knew. You had mentioned enough times at the end of this same lesson that ‘I’m about the spend this free doing absolutely nothing.’

“Something you made for me? Like a gift?” You were grinning widely, following Neville out of the charms classroom and onto the hogwarts grounds.

“It’s not really much of a gift,” He started, clutching the strap of his bag tightly. “It’s more of a thank you, for standing up for me the other day. I know that he - Draco - is really important to you, so it means a lot that you stood up for me.” You slid your hand into Neville’s, tugging him back as you stopped in your tracks.

“Neville. That’s really nice of you. I don’t - I’m not nice for gifts. I genuinely think you deserve to be treated better. Draco can save his bullying for someone like McGlaggen.” The boy’s cheeks flushed a pale pink, and he ducked his head down, looking at where your hands held.

Neville glanced up at you, smiling softly before tugging you along the path.

“Come on.”

You began feeling uneasy as Neville led you towards the dark greenhouses, but you knew you trusted him. Neville wouldn’t hurt a fly. “You know, we tell the first years that Dumbledore is hiding a creature in here, like an acromantula or something. They dare each other to sneak in there and we follow them and make creepy noises. It’s really funny.”

Neville’s laugh shocked you, and you suddenly felt bad. You knew if he wasn’t in your year group, he would have been a victim of that poor excuse of a prank. “Don’t worry, I can confirm there are no acromantulas in there.”

“Even so,” You started intertwining your fingers with his. You saw the blush on his face darken. “You would protect me against it, wouldn’t you?” Neville nodded quickly, looking away from you to hide his shy smile.

His fingers untangled with yours, and he left you at the entrance of the greenhouse, rushing off to find the potted plant for you. You busied yourself with shutting the door of the greenhouse, then taking your jumper off.

Your shirt crinkled slightly as you pulled your jumper over your head, sighing quietly. “It’s quite warm in here, isn’t it?” But Neville didn’t reply, only appearing with a large purple plant that he had to peek around from the sides to see you.

“Oh Neville!” You gasped, reaching out to help take the plant from him. “Um, it shouldn’t really grow for a while. I didn’t realise it was so quick, but I guess it is quite dark in here. It’ll be slower in the dungeons, but it’ll survive.”

The plant thumped against the table as Neville dropped it and you giggled at the sight of the soil all over his uniform shirt. “You’ve got,” You started, wiping your hands down the boy’s shirt to get rid of the dirt. Neville’s stomach constricted underneath your fingertips. “Um it doesn’t matter.” You cut yourself off, pulling your hands off Neville’s stomach to throw your arms around him.

Neville stumbled back in shock, blinking quickly as he decided to return the hug, his hands lingering shyly on your waist. You pulled back, dragging your hands back over Neville’s shoulders to cup his face, bringing him closer to you so you could press your lips against his.

A surprised noise came out of his mouth, swallowed by your lips. Neville’s arms tightened around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him as he tilted his head to the side, trying to deepen the kiss. You parted your lips, running your tongue on Neville’s bottom lip, only for him to gasp, his mouth dipping open. Moaning quietly, you slid your tongue against Neville’s, who pulled away from the kiss slightly to push you back against the table, his eyes glued to your lips as he reconnecting them with his, kissing you passionately.

You pushed Neville away, lips separating with a wet pop. “Let me thank you properly, Nev.” You whispered, encouraging him back a couple of steps as you dropped to your knees. Neville gulped animatedly, shaking his head with a weak cry of “You don’t have to!”

“I want to… Do you want to?”

But your only response was Neville unzipping his trousers eagerly, his belt buckle clanging loudly as he pushed his trousers down his legs. You hooked your fingers in the elastic band of Neville’s boxers, pulling them down teasingly slow. As you wrapped your fingers around Neville’s cock, you glanced up at him through your lashes, wetting your lips with your tongue. Neville let out a shaky breath as you started stroking him, hand slowly pumping him up and down.

“Has a girl touched you like this before?” You teasingly asked at the look of his mouth agape. To your surprise, he shook his head no, making you gasp softly. “Better make your first unbeatable then.”

You licked his leaking red tip before wrapping your lips around him, humming when one of Neville’s hand came to the back of your head to steady you, fingers combing through your hair. You sucked softly on his tip, and Neville bucked his lips one with a broken moan, apologising for the movement as he pushed deeper into your mouth.

Taking it as a sign to move forward, you moved your head closer to Neville’s pelvis, taking his dick into your mouth inch by inch. You ran your tongue on the underside of his cock, watching amusedly as he shut his eyes tightly, throwing his head back with pleasure, mouth open in a silent moan.

Placing your hands on Neville’s thighs, you felt his muscles clenching. You began caressing him there as you began bobbing your head up and down, pushing yourself further down his cock every time you sunk down on him, causing loud moans to ring out in the humid greenhouse. His tip grazed the back of your throat and you felt tears gather in your eyes.

Neville’s hand closed gently around your hair, pulling you off his cock, and you gasped as both his hands gripped your collar tightly, pulling you up with as much force as he could muster. You whimpered as you stumbled up to your feet, placing your hands on top of his.

Neville pushed you back against the table again, pressing his body snugly against yours as he kissed you again, moaning softly when you reached between your bodies to wrap your hand around his cock again. “Please, I just - please.”

“Just want some kisses?” You teased, and Neville desperately nodded, pressing his lips against yours and forcing his tongue into your mouth as you sped up the pace of your hand on his cock. You squeezed the base of Neville’s cock before sliding your hand back up to the top, running your thumb over his tip.

Neville cried out loudly, his sounds swallowed by your kiss as you tugged him impossibly closer to you with your free hand. His hips thrusted up into your hand, cock shooting spurts of milky white cum all over your uniform as he broke the kiss, head dropping down to rest on your shoulder.

The boy took a long moment to recover, panting loudly as he caught his breath. You ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into your touch, swallowing thickly as you moved your head to the side to kiss him softly on the temple. Neville finally lifted his head off your shoulder, placing both his hands on your hips.

His face was bright red, a shy smile finally finding its way onto his features.

“Thank you.” He whispered, eyes dipping down to look at your lips.

You grinned, leaning forward to peck Neville’s lips, giggling at the satisfied sigh that fell from his lips. The both of you stood there, embracing, until finally, Neville pulled away to tuck himself back into his trousers, finding himself suddenly unable to meet your eyes.

He found his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Uh, let me help you with that.” He mumbled, rushing to lift the potted plant off the table. “Don’t worry, I can handle it.” Neville nodded frantically, turning around to rush out of the greenhouse with a “See you around!”

“Hey Neville?”

The boy spun on the balls of his feet, looking at you expectantly as he clutched the strap of his bag tightly.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

And with that the boy was taking long strides towards you and cupping your face in his hands to press his lips against yours in a sweet kiss.

“I really will see you around.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony

[frombookstoretobookstore]

Call Sign: Half Caff : Part One

(Alright I’m new to writing please don’t judge me. I HAD to start writing because of The Pitt. Mild spoilers if you haven’t finished the show)

TW: reader is attacked at the end. I had to make it dramatic sorry.

Part Two : Masterlist

She’s putting almost all of her focus into refilling her coffee mug, she hardly notices him entering the small cafe. It isn’t until he plops his travel mug onto the counter before her that she looks up from staring at the precious coffee falling into her mug. She raises an eyebrow at him as she sets her mug down and holds her hand out for his.

“Evening Half Caff.” He smirks, using his call sign for her. Her short stature and reliance on caffeine had only caused him to double down on the nickname. When she had first protested it.

She only grunts as she fills his mug from the coffee pot sitting on the edge of the counter. She hands it off to him as she grabs a tray of various baked goods sitting on top of the espresso machine and he follows her as she moves to set them up at the folding table that’s dragged out for these meetings.

Every Thursday night the local coffee shop closes its doors to customers and opens it for the local Veteran’s Affair office. One a week, veterans of all ages and branches gather. Part of the night is devoted to mingling, friends old and new talking about their week. The second part of the night has a darker hue. Chairs are dragged to the middle of the shop and set up in a circle. It reminds y/n of an alcoholics anonymous meeting: everyone sharing the tragedies they’ve witnessed, the fellow comrades they’ve lost both overseas and at home, and the struggle of integrating back into civilian life after having been in some of the toughest conditions the world has to offer.

It’s how her and Jack met. Not that she’d ever seen combat or boot camp. Not in terms of military service at least. After struggling with her mental health, her therapist had recommended volunteer work, something routine and low stakes that wasn’t another job. She’d offered to donate her time to her local coffee shop, setting up and taking down for group activities twice a week. A book club on Tuesdays, and the veteran meetings on Thursdays. She’d often help set up and take down for special events the café held; like when the middle school’s theater club had asked to borrow the space for brainstorming set design.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at her, noting her usual cheery appearance gone and replaced with sharp sarcasm and deflection.

“Not enough caffeine?” He asks her, noting her usual grace being replaced with something that resembles stomping.

“You’ve got another one tonight. Blue sweatshirt on your six.” She nods over to where a newcomer has caught one of the older vets in conversation.

“Oh no. That’ll be the third one this month.” Jack groans as he notices the cocky behavior of the kid who must only be twenty. His army buzz haircut still fresh. He leans against the wall next to the table. Trying to hide his smirk behind his cup as she continues to grumble while setting out more muffins and scones next to the containers of coffee.

They referred to these kind of people as “OMBs” or ‘one-month babies’. These individuals got the wrong idea of war from obsessing over army video games as young kids and teenagers. Often coming from heavy right leaning families, these individuals joined the numerous branches of armed service not to serve their country, but to fuel their ego. These meetings had been hosts to numerous individuals who were more upset that they hadn’t had the chance to shoot someone, than they were over the small stipend they received once back on US soil.

“How bad?” Jack said, turning to her as she braces her hands on the table. She winces and sighs.

“Three weeks on a German base as custodial. I think boot camp has been the hardest thing he’s been through.” She turns and crosses her arms, glaring at the back of the kid.

“So, nothing compared to the rest of these guys.” He smiles and raises his coffee mug as a familiar army buddy of his passes to grab a seat.

“Oh, my fucking god.” She hisses though gritted teeth. Jack winces as he watches the kid toss a muffin wrapper on the floor as he continues talking, the two vets he’s dragged into conversation raise their eyebrows and share a look.

“Damn, if I didn’t work, I’d take you to dinner tonight to make up for his bullshit.” She laughs at his joke. They’ve made this joke for months; often joking about getting dinner after the meetings despite Jack working the nightshift at the hospital just down the road. Y/n gives him a once over, secretly enjoying the way Jack’s black scrubs look, his white badge a stark contrast to the rest of his outfit.

“Hit him with the one two guilt trip.” She all but sneers, causing Jack to laugh into his mug. He holds it out and she refills it.

“That bad huh?” He turns to her with a smile, she smirks up at him.

“He called me ‘coffee girl’. If you don’t take it off, I’m ripping it off and throwing it at him after a fat knuckle sandwich.”

“Alright easy Half Caff, go read your book behind the register and I’ll see what I can do.” He bumps her with his shoulder as he shoots her a smile and makes his way to gather with everyone else in the middle of the dining area.

The meeting starts as they usually do. Jeremy, a navy veteran who did two tours, opens the conversation with his usual story. How he lost three of his friends overseas to violence, and one here in the states as they succumbed to their PTSD and trauma.

Jack shoots a look over to y/n behind the register as the new kid, Ben, immediately starts a rant about how more violence is needed. Jack starts to see red as Ben goes on about using violence to thwart foreign governments and the need for additional troops to bring down resistance to US soldiers. 

Jack leans forward in his chair, rubbing at his calf. He interrupts Ben, “What’s the worst thing you saw while over there in Germany?” He doesn’t look up to see Ben’s reaction as he rolls his pant leg up slowly.

When he’s met with silence he looks up and finds the new kid staring at his leg as Jack slowly removes his prosthetic. He massages the spot where his mid-calf and the prosthetic rub, an irritant he knows will never go away. The new kid only opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

“That bad huh?” Jeremy says, covering a small laugh with a cough as he catches on to what Jack is doing. Ben clears his throat and looks away as Jack replaces the prosthetic, offering the kid a small smile. Another vet launches into a story on his struggles reintegrating into civilian life, having only been back from Iraq for two weeks. 

Jack glances back to the register where y/n offers a small smirk and mouths ‘thank you’ to him, he nods. He’s thankful for her, not many civilians understand the struggles of coming back, of facing the music. She’s dealt with OMBs almost as much as he has, something he struggles to accept. He often brings these individuals up to his therapist. How can someone who got so lucky in their overseas assignment get so angry they didn’t see the true horrors of war?

The meeting wraps up and he stands to stretch his back. He makes his way back to y/n for one last top off on his coffee mug. She fills his mug over the register and smiles.

“Be safe Lance Corporal.” She says with a smirk, he smiles. She often throws out whatever army rank she can remember when referring to him. Something he’s sure is payback for her Half Caff nickname. Something he considers her callsign.

“Always am Half Caff. See you next Thursday.” He secures the lid on his travel mug and raises it in thanks. He leaves the café and turns right, making his way towards the hospital to relieve the day shift workers.

She chuckles and shakes her head as he leaves. She begins to busy herself with clean up, gladly accepting help from Jeremy as she and the café owner, GiGi, start to put everything back into its rightful place.

Sometime later, the café is back to normal, chairs and tables back to their places, dishes washed, and coffee mugs stacked neatly and ready for the following morning rush.

“Can you grab the trash? I’ll take out the recycling in a bit before I lock up.” GiGi says, sweeping her hair out of her face as she jots down notes for the morning crew.

“On it!” Y/n calls as she grabs one of the bags and swings the other over her shoulder, backing into the back room to toss the garbage out into the dumpsters of the back alley. 

She’s too busy making a to-do list in her head to see it coming. She tosses one bag into the open dumpster from the top of the small staircase and is about to throw the other when she’s grabbed from behind and wrenched into the guardrails.

She groans as she’s thrown down the rest of the stairs, a well-aimed punch lands on her jaw, and she sees white as the pain burns through her body. She’s so out of it she barely feels the two kicks bash her ribs in, her breath becoming ragged.

She gasps on the ground, gravel digging into her side and cutting her face. Her vision swims as she sees the quickly receding footsteps as whoever attacked her runs off. She wheezes, her mouth gaping as she tries to call for help.

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

Idk, y'all want part two?

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[sagistrology]

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲,

𝐩𝐭 𝐈𝐈

(the following observations are kept general)

♱ w. pluto in aquarius we might see the height of absurd microtrends (short influx, cheap production), devoid of originality. a fast paced cycle, replicating past authenticity - creating a shell of meaning rather than an homage. separation.

♱ keep an eye on how medicine and esp. holistic treatments develop. topics dealing with death and its philosophical meaning might be seen as a more integral part of life. (pluto in aquarius)

♱ saturn dominants can appear detached or aloof; when they're selective, seeking stability in ways that do not (!) mirror the distress or hostility experienced in their formative years (neglect, unpredictability, abuse).

♱ saturn conjunct ascendant being the 'consequence', and served 'justice' according to one's actions - casting you as judge, defendant, and witness. extremely elegant, private, and humble.

♱ no bigger insult than the betrayal of one's values. to stoop 'low' is to lower (and harm) oneself, knowing that we all reap what we sow - whether 'positive' or 'negative'. protected by saturn.

♱ obsessed, ‘grounded’, devoted – what’s more earth bound than human intimacy? soil (earth) holds water (emotion), earth placements are deeply committed. mars in earth signs = stamina.

♱ a cancer ascendant's appearance fluctuates when there’s change happening internally, e.g. by a circumstance affecting them. emotionality is inherent. heavy on introspection, intuition, divinity, femininity, ‘archetype’ of the mother. it’s about nurturing the ‘self’, in the first house of identity. care is non-negotiable.

♱ the second house is tied to how the voice is used to ‘attain’, whether for wealth, status, possession, or seduction. water and earth both are resources. abundance within, knowing that you’re the ‘source’, building ‘status’, ‘prestige’, from nothing - you’re the asset. currencies can lose value.

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hiii I really love the one with the harbingers where reader calls them words of endearment from their homeland, can you do one where reader cooks for them food from their homeland? pantalone's part was so cute <33

✦ You cook them their favorite home meal, based on their homeland

(Or trying to guess what food the not-yet-playable characters might like based on their region, culture, or language. ) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ It is to no one’s surprise that Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, would easily drop everything to grant your needs. Just blink and the world’s spoils are at your feet, bestowed by your beloved. Expensive clothing, jewelry, art pieces, weaponry, or lavish dishes. With his money and status, plus being a connoisseur of the ancient lores of Teyvat, The Jester can easily acquire anything you require on a silver platter. 

But this time, it was you who tried to gift him something on a silver platter.

On an unsuspecting day, Pierro returned home only to be greeted with a strong scent of baked goods. The smell wafted all around the living quarters, warm and sugary. Glancing curiously, the Jester marched to the kitchen, where he found you grumbling to yourself. You stood with your oven mittens, a tray of voluptuous Kanelbullar presented in front of him; some were cut as you tried to take an analytical bite of the cinnamon rolls.

“Trying your hands at familiar recipes, my cherished?” - The man asked with a welcoming glance while you mulled and judged the taste of your cooked goods.

“Ah, Pierro, you’re right on time. Here, try this one for me. Does it resemble traditional cinnamon rolls?”

When the Jester took a bite, even his icy eye widened for a moment. A wave of nostalgia and warmth lanced his memories, ones he thought were long forgotten. The cinnamon rolls you baked were not the average confectionaries one could easily purchase, as the taste resembled traditional Khaenri’ahn Kanelbullar. A simple treat that all children and adults used to enjoy in their free time.  

“Well…? Oh no, don’t tell me it’s that bad?” - you awaited his response, but Pierro quickly shook his head.

“It’s rich and potent in taste, but not too sugary. Just like the ones in our Homeland… I didn’t think replicating such intricacies was possible. What did you add this time?”

Your eyes light up. Finally, some progress. “Really? I’ve been mulling over it for hours, I thought my taste pallet was going numb. I tried to find any local ingredients that might add the flavor of saffron and cardamon.”

“Like the golden Saffron…? They were a local specialty back in Khaenri’ah. Although some variants exist in Teyvat’s soil, they are not used as cooking ingredients here.” - Pierro pondered, amazed at your ability to combine other local spices to imitate the taste of the past.

As both of you mulled over how to achieve the most accurate results for these traditional Cinnamon Rolls, half of the tray was already gone.

“Although now that I think about it, my divine, I don’t think it would be an issue to send an expedition to obtain that rare spice for you. Especially if the result is such exquisite home pastry.”

✧ In this house, Il Capitano is the master chef. The man is proficient in the art of survival, thus, his skills in outdoor cooking are especially shown. From simple meat and vegetables, the Captain can come up with the best meat skewers you ever ate. Not to mention the topic of sustenance and growth is intertwined with a good diet. A man his size and capabilities puts immense care into outdoor survival and health.

But even a strong Captain deserves some spoiling for his hard work. 

After a wearying day spent honing the skills of his Fatui troops, a group of soldiers that will prepare for an upcoming expedition, Il Capitano was greeted with a surprise visit from you. You arrived right on time for their break, and as always, the Fatui soldiers couldn't help but eavesdrop on the Harbinger’s exchange with his beloved…

“I brought you your meal for today, Bife de chorizo. You need lots of protein.”

“Thank you.” - The Captain stood obediently, holding the lunchbox you brought.

“With Pico de Gallo and avocados. I also put some almonds and walnuts as a snack.”

“I understand.” 

“You are preparing for another important expedition. You must take care of your body after such intensive training, Cappy.”

“You are right, you are right.”

“And I don’t want to see anything left from the lunch boxes. Make sure to eat all of it, okay?”

“Understood!”

It sure was a sight. One would think the Harbinger was the student as he stood nodding vehemently while you scolded him. With one hand on your hip, you gave him an earful as you checked up on him, generously providing him a full-course meal neatly packed in a mealbox.

The Fatui soldiers were slightly jealous. Even they could easily tell that behind that pitch-black helmet, Il Capitano was absolutely joyous to have his beloved visit him and provide such mouthwatering nourishment. 

✧ Today, you were ready to tackle and kill Il Dottore. Why? Because that man barged into your kitchen and confidently announced himself as the culinarian for today’s dinner. A simple and kind gesture, right? You would rather starve than have The Doctor implode your kitchen again.

“Stop exaggerating as if I let your Serenitea Pot house crumble. It was just a little fire.” - Dottore defended himself, watching closely as you made him stand back from the stove. 

“I had to replace the whole walls, Zandik!”

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with the Harbinger peeking from behind your shoulders as you claimed dominion over the frying pan. The whole day, he was made watching you prepare Sumeru Kibbeh meatballs, since the last time he decided to dabble in the art of cooking, your house was put at stake.

He was a scholar, not a chef, unfortunately. But The Doctor is not ashamed to admit his impatience and lack of skill in the kitchen. Hence, he helped you as much as he could while you diligently taught him how Kibbeh is properly made. He remained silent but pleasantly subservient. The sight of your sleeves raised, hands tactfully molding the Kibbeh was oddly amiable. Especially when your face was so focused on the task, he couldn’t help but stare. 

Yet every time you fried the meatballs and set them aside on a pan lined with paper towels to drain, a sneaky hand would try to steal some. You’d slap his hand away.

“Nope. Hands off! Wait till dinner”

“They’ll end up being consumed anyway. I’ll just have a small tas-”

Slap!

And it continued for a long while, all the way to the end once you finished cooking. When the two of you finally sat down and began eating, Dottore would often remain silent. You were too busy relishing the dish, unaware of the Harbinger’s appreciation for your home-cooked meal. Sustenance is just a waste of time that the human body must go through to gain its energy. But it’s not the same when he is sitting with you casually, the warm afternoon sunlight wrapping the dining table, and the warm food steaming with an appetizing aroma.

For him, eating with you was different. It was simple, but it was home. 

✧ Scaramouche may huff and scoff all he wants, but when it comes to appraising your Unagi Chazuke, no master can compete with you. Perhaps because he is a puppet, but Scaramouche has a delicate pallet. He despises strong flavors and always preferred simpler dishes, to appreciate the unique flavor of a singular ingredient. He would never admit it vocally, but he would often crave your chazukes, and it was easily written on his grumbling face.

“Come on, just say it.”

The Balladeer lamented.

“Say it. My home cooking is the best, and you just want me to cook for you today.”

“...I won’t. I don’t have use in consuming any human meals.” - he mumbled in response, arms crossed. You sighed and with a wide smile, you turned away.

“Oh well. Guess you don’t want any, huh…? And here I thought I could prepare your favorite Unagi Chazuke today. But I guess it’s foolish-”

“No, Wait-!” - The Harbinger wished to bite his tongue but it was too late. He already called out to you in a moment of weakness, and your goofy grin only widened with his desperation. 

He gave up. With reluctant embarrassment, the Balladeer admitted your victory - “If you may… Can you prepare another one of your signature Chazuke? Please.”

And that’s how you two ended up by the dinner table. You couldn’t just deny him after such a heartfelt request. You prepared the unagi meat and rice diligently, showing him how to prepare green tea to add mild bitterness to the salted rice. Topping off with some dried Nori leaves, and sesame - two bows of Unagi Chazuke were ready and looking artistically grandiose.

Light and sublime, that’s what Scaramouche thought. A true definition of soul food, as he held his bowl and chopsticks close. A rare but sincere smile would always grace his features whenever he ate your cooking, but he of course would conceal it by clearing his throat.

“Hm, okay fine. Maybe your cooking is adequate after all. Especially when you don’t make it too sweet.”

You’d laugh at his reaction. At the end of the day, it was you who taught him how to cook what later would become his signature dish, even if his identity as a Harbinger was wiped away. 

✧ Being the richest man in Teyvat like Pantalone means dealing with lots of bureaucracies and business. Sometimes, after a prolonged day in the office, the sight of stacked papers becomes dreadful and negotiations with the Snezhnayan elites may go fruitless. Thus, The Regrator would often slum by his desk, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

Now what would the richest man in Teyvat do to relax after a bad day at work? Go to the most expensive five-star restaurant? Perhaps purchase a fancy drink that costs more than his subordinates' monthly salary? No. He would head straight back home, where he knows you are awaiting him with open arms.

A single look at him and you would know he is fatigued. Leaning up to embrace him, you plant a tender kiss on his cheek - “How about I make us a quick snack, hm? You can go and take a shower in the meantime.”

Pantalone would try to conjure up a faint smile and nod. As he winds down for the day, subconsciously he knows your home cooking is like a balm to his soul. No matter how many exquisite restaurants he tried, he’d easily sacrifice all of them for a bite-full of your culinary.

And here you are, merrily handing him his childhood favorite - Mora Meat Roujiamo. A simple meat sandwich, but a staple street food in Liyue’s culture. That’s all the Harbinger desires after a tough day at work, as he gobbles the sandwich wrapped with a paper towel.

“Made your favorites. I added some extra meat since I know you like it juicy.” - you gave Pantalone soothing pats on the back as he ate up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey. You would not believe how frustrating work has been today,”

Pantalone would rant and confide in you about his work. He would rather do that than delve into the nostalgic feeling that Mora Meat sandwiches gave him. It was indeed his childhood favorite. Yet it also reminded him how in the distant past, when food or money was scarce, starvation and desperation were his only companions as a lowly child. Thus, on better days when he acquired some change just to purchase simple Mora Meat - these sandwiches felt like a king’s feast.

Such an unadorned dish, but one that brought warmth and sustenance to a starved child, telling him that everything would be okay. Today, this starved child is the richest man in Snezhnayan. Nevertheless, he still relished these sandwiches from your hands like divine wealth, telling himself once more that everything would be okay. 

✧ Tartaglia was bedbound for some while, bandaged heavily after a massive battle he faced during one of his missions. The young Harbinger would never tell his family where his scars hail from, except for you and his father maybe. But after an earful of scolding, you took care of your reckless boyfriend and sighed.

“You made me worried, you know. I don’t want to see you move a muscle around the house these days, are we clear? You must recover first.”

“Y-yes, captain.” - Childe chuckled humorously, suppressing the soreness his cuts provided around his body. “It’s just… there is only one remedy that could save a fallen soldier like me.”

“Hm? What is it? Do you need something, Ajax?” 

“Please, dear… come closer.” - he said with a pained expression. 

You did so he could whisper to you what he wanted. Your concern was only heightened, oblivious that his dramatic words were playing you - “The secret to my healing… is…”

“Yes?” - you leaned even closer.

“... Some yummy food.”

You blinked at him, and Tartaglia immediately gained a comically “passed out” expression on his face, as if your cooking were his last death wish. You let him plop to the pillow and gritted your teeth - “Why you little-...! Ugh, you’re lucky I am worried about you. You just want me to pamper you.”

“Oh, come on, is that such an unrealistic request? You told me not to move a muscle and I would receive your scolding no matter what. Please, sweetheart, just anything you would like - cook it and I would happily gobble it up!”

You crossed your arms. You hate to admit it, but his puppy eyes were working effectively and if his appetite was returning, that means he is on a good path of recovery anyway.

“Fine… I’ll make something nutritious and easy for your stomach.”

Tartaglia's eyes lightened up in an instant. He was a simple man - if you cooked him something, he would drop on his knees for you instantly. That day, you pondered whether you’d make him some Piroshki or Borscht, but he needed something light. His health was your priority, after all. Even though Childe fancied himself a master at concealing his painful whinces, you are no fool. You always notice them.

Thus, your beloved was presented with Ukha fish soup. A warm bowl with fresh herbs, imported calla lily, and nutritious fish.

“Easy now, I know you like Calla Lily Seafood Soup, since you often had it in Liyue… So I decided to go with the local version of it. Now make sure to eat all of it, or you won’t feel better.”

Like an obedient child, Ajax felt pampered and delighted. Lunch by the bed? His sweetheart feeding him? The injuries were worth it as he happily ate the Ukha fish soup.

“If getting injured makes me taste food more worthy than the gods themselves, maybe I should get wounded more often, haha- Ow!”

Your response was another fistful nudge to his shoulder.  

Kanelbullar - in Swedish, Cinnamon Rolls Bife de chorizo - in Spanish, Argentinian beef cut Pico de Gallo - in Spanish, Mexican salsa/dip Kibbeh - in Arabic, bulgur parcel stuffed with minced meat filling (in Genshin, they just called it meatballs lol) Chazuke - in Japanese, green tea poured over a rice meal (Scara's signature dish)  Mora Meat - had to look this one up, apparently Genshin is referencing RouJiaMo (肉夹馍) meaning “meat in a bun". Ukha fish soup - in Russian, also known as fisherman’s soup. Childe’s signature Calla Lily Seafood Soup is probably a variation made with Gēng found in Chinese cuisine. But there is a Slavic variation that reminded me of his signature dish. 

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI • Anthony Bridgerton x Reader • The Viscount’s visits to your bedroom have become regular, beautiful occurrences by now, but he still has much to teach you. Includes oral sex (f receiving) and talk of losing virginity.

PART ONE | PART TWO

By now, the visits Lord Bridgerton made to your room in the night were familiar…a beautiful ritual kept secret from everyone else in Mayfair. You waited by the window for his arrival, for his wordless entry into your bedchamber, an eager student anticipating her instructor’s next lesson.

And the viscount was indeed an excellent teacher. While his presence alone was more than enough to send your body into a spiral of desire, his mouth in particular had become the object of your deepest need. At first, his kisses remained as chaste as they could be under the circumstances, tracing your lips, cheeks and chin. But as your nights together progressed, Anthony’s kisses trailed lower, sucking and licking down your neck and along your shoulders.

By his own standards, Anthony was restraining himself tremendously. He wanted to bury his cock inside your sweet, ripe cunt, to know its curves and contours before any other man would. When he left you for home each night, Anthony’s dreams were filled with filling you, his bedclothes soiled every morning with sweat and cum from restless dreams of claiming your virgin cunt as his own. Each night he guided your hand and watched you come, he came with you, his body hovering over yours on the bed, his erection pressed against the mattress between your parted legs, grinding uselessly against it.

Anthony wasn’t sure how much longer his performance of control could last. Eventually, he would break, and when he did, Anthony feared more than anything the risk of hurting you, both physically and worst of all, your reputation, especially the standard you held yourself to. Perhaps he was pushing you further than he ought? Should a young woman of high standing such as yourself really be the object of a man like Anthony’s affection? He sometimes worried his handling of you was little better than the treatment he’d showed the many whores he’d had. And yet…you were different. You were, to be fair, the complete opposite of a whore. You were brand new, or at least your sexuality was. There were so many things you had yet to experience, and Anthony wanted to be the man that introduced you to all of them…

Tonight, his kisses are different. There’s an aggression in him you aren’t accustomed to seeing, or feeling. His teeth bare over your shoulder, lightly scratching your skin just enough to make you flinch. Anthony pulls back immediately, lifting his face to meet your eyes, a breathless apology whispered from his lips against yours. You cup your hand to his cheek, smiling sweetly back at him in the darkness. “I am well, my Lord,” you assure him. “Please…do not stop.”

He nuzzles his forehead against your shoulder, soothing the place his teeth grazed. A sheen of sweat transfers from his skin to yours; Anthony’s body is awash in heat, his heart thudding against your chest as he lays overtop you. Your hips shift beneath Anthony’s, his erection prodding your inner thigh. You wonder again, as you do every night, what it is that he’s hiding down there, the thing he won’t let you see? He tells you you’re not ready for that yet, that he still has more to teach you before that particular lesson might be given. Your curiosity gets the better of you tonight, leading your hand to wander beneath the covers, daring to slip between your bodies and blindly grope for the rigid part of Anthony he judges you unready for…

He whips his head up to face you, bringing his hand around your jaw in a firm, yet tender grasp. “No,” he whispers in a stern tone, softening his disapproval with “not yet, my sweet one. Patience…”

Anthony takes your wrist in his much-larger hand and guides it away from the place it searches. He’s admittedly surprised by your boldness in making such a move, and a lesser gentleman would have seized upon such innocent curiosity and exploited it. But Anthony is determined to be a patient tutor, to the best of his ability. The impossible balance of self control and indulgence he’s enduring is all for your benefit, he tells himself. To rush you into sex too quickly would be crass and ugly, not becoming of a young woman such as yourself. Anthony has come to admire you even more than he desires you. And he never plays too roughly with the things he cherishes...

“When, my lord?” you ask, your eyes wide and expecting. “When will you allow me all of you?”

Anthony resists the urge to curse, but fuck does he want to. It’s as if you’re doing your damndest to ruin him and his feeble hold on honor all at once, securing his end with nothing more than a sweet plea and an innocent gaze.

He tenses his jaw, breathing deeply. “A woman…such as yourself-.” Anthony pauses. “-Is worth waiting for…to be tenderly guided, not selfishly taken.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips; the rigid, hidden part of Anthony moves against your thigh. “Do you understand?”

You nod agreeably, softly replying “yes, my lord. I trust the you know what is best.”

Anthony’s lips turn up in a grin. “I do,” he affirms. “And whilst moving forward too quickly would be a mistake…” He shifts his body down the bed a bit, chin hovering above your stomach. “…I see no reason why tonight’s lesson should be merely one of repetition...”

Anthony takes your hips in his hands, clutching the soft skin in his calloused grip. You draw in a sharp breath, unaccustomed to being touched in such a way and by hands as rough as Lord Bridgerton’s. Anthony’s tongue glides warm and wet down the length of your torso, his lips pausing at the coarse tuft of hair framing your sex. He rests his nose against the curly bed, inhaling the scent of arousal that clings to your quivering thighs. Anthony kisses your clit with the slightest pressure; your hips buck abruptly in response. “My lord…” you squeak. “It…it hurts.” While it isn’t a question, Anthony knows you’re likely overwhelmed. You’ve never been stimulated sexually like this before, and it must be very confusing. “Do not fret, dear one,” Anthony murmurs softly, his warm breath dusting your pubic hair. “The pain will go away, as it always does. Only this time, allow me to relieve the aching for you…”

Anthony holds your eyes as he extends his tongue to tap your clit. Your hips shiver again, held down and spread open by his strong grasp. Anthony flattens his tongue against your clit, allowing you to adjust to the new intensity the gesture creates. His cock throbs against the mattress, precum leaking into the fabric of his trousers as his very first taste of your cunt sinks over his tastebuds. Your hands are on Anthony’s shoulders, gripping his shirt in your fists, your knees framing his body. Holding you down more firmly, Anthony lowers his head and begins to lick you in wide, slow strokes. He drags his tongue across your lips and up over your engorged clit, feeling it throb at his touch. You’ve released Anthony’s shirt, now clutching your pillow to your face to keep quiet the sounds you’re making.

He parts your labia gently and carefully with his tongue, spreading you tenderly like a delicacy to be savored, not a meal to be rushed. You taste like bourbon and rain, Anthony thinks, like the licorice candy he’s so fond of stealing from his younger siblings. Your slick is copious and warm, like the morning air in the first days of Summer, like the mellow dew beaded on the Wisteria growing outside the Bridgerton home. Anthony dips his tongue between your folds, savoring your sweet flavor. It’s a flavor unknown to all but him, as even you have never tasted the product of your own arousal. The beauty of this gift is not lost on Anthony; he cherishes each coat of your slick, syrupy essence as he laps between your lips in thick, languid strokes.

Your words are lost in a mix of grunts and moans uttered into your pillow, every thought in your head dissolved and melted into Anthony’s mouth. You’re not even a person at this point, only a need, a creature like any other animal chasing its own based, primal yearning. Your body writhes indulgently under Anthony’s hold, hips grinding against his face, smearing him in the juices flooding your cunt. White hot pleasure seizes you, blanching your vision as everything in the world ceases to exist beyond Anthony’s mouth. He feels the vibrations of your climax through his tongue, feels your soul shattering to a million pieces and forming back together again in his hands.

Silky, pearlescent liquid drips between Anthony’s lips as he licks you through your climax. It feels like your body’s on fire from the inside out, a beautiful tangle of pleasure and pain that nips at your groin and twists your insides into delicious knots. Anthony’s hands are everywhere, rubbing your clit and squeezing the plumpest parts of your ass and hips, groping you in a possessive haste as if he’ll never have the opportunity to touch you again. He watches your lips flutter and pulse, slick gushing from between them as a second orgasm is spurred by the first. He’s never seen a woman come so hard before, with such innocent and unabashed rapture. It stirs something primal and almost sadistic within Anthony, a sense of pride in pleasuring you eclipsed by dominance. Now that he’s seen you lose control completely, without the reservation and shyness you’ve previously displayed, he craves more. If this is how you respond to his mouth between your legs, how much more powerfully will your body respond when his cock is buried inside you, making you come till you’re begging him to stop? And will he be able to stop? Will his sense of honor fail completely in that moment, devolving Anthony into little more than a selfish, barbaric creature intent on pushing you beyond the point of ruin?

He looks up from between your legs, catching your eyes. Their lids are heavy, lashes wet with tears, eyes glassy with an expression that tells him your mind is as good as removed from this world. Anthony knows he could take you now, in the pliant, weakened state you’re in. And considering how deeply you want him to give you all of himself, Anthony knows he’d likely meet no objection from you. But when your head lands back on the pillow, your skin flush and wet with perspiration, he realizes that to take you any further would be too much. Too selfish, too cruel. Of course you want more of him. And of course Anthony wants to give it to you, but not like this. Not when you’ve just experienced orgasms so powerful, your body is depleted of all its strength. The gentleman in Anthony once again wins out, in spite of the tug in his groin, and in spite of his predilection to indulging his own selfish needs.

He lifts himself off the bed from between your legs, wiping his dripping chin on his sleeve. You lift your head from the pillow with considerable effort, wide eyes expectant, your arm extending for him. “You’re not leaving, my lord?”

It’s more of a demand than a question. But Anthony is in control here, he reminds himself. He closes a hand over his erection, rubbing away some of the tension through his trousers. “You must rest, (y/n),” he says, his voice thick, tongue heavy. “I will return.” Anthony crouches beside you on the bed, pulling his fingertip along your jawline, soothing away the tears growing cold on your cheek.

“Soon?” you ask. It sounds very much like you’re begging, but you couldn’t care less. You are begging, craving him. Craving more of Anthony’s mouth, his kisses, his tongue, and…the part of him he won’t yet share with you. The part he’s making you wait for, and in his wisdom, you know Anthony is honorable for making you wait. “Tomorrow night,” he assures you, a warm smile turning his wet lips upward. “Wait for me as usual, beside your window.” He exhales, the scent of your sex washing over the air between you. Anthony leans in and kisses you softly, a kiss you press into but he draws back, taking your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “Tomorrow,” Anthony reaffirms. He releases your hands and makes his way to the window, where you’ve seen him enter and depart several times over the past two weeks. “I think,” he adds, in a whisper. “That you did exceptionally well tonight, (y/n). You allowed yourself to surrender fully, completely to pleasure, without an ounce of hesitation or shame.” Your heart skips at Anthony’s praise, and the possibility it implies. He licks his lips, eyes fluttering closed…one final taste of you to last him till tomorrow. “With your explicit permission, (y/n),” Anthony says softly. “I would very much like to claim your purity tomorrow night…for my own.” You swallow, understanding Anthony’s meaning. He wants to give you all of him, and in doing so, take something very important from you: your virginity.

“You have my permission, my lord,” you reply, noting the way Anthony’s chest swells in a satisfied breath of finality, of agreement. Of accomplishment. Of claiming you. He nods a silent confirmation of understanding between you, and turns for the window to make his leave. You watch the curtains lolling inward on the breeze, inhaling the scent of hydrangeas drifting in…listening to Anthony’s footsteps fading as he departs, drifting gently into dreams… 🥀

PART FOUR

[anantaru]

DAY 7 — MONSTERFUCKING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — zhongli, neuvillette

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, monsterfucking, dragons >, size kink/size difference, big men who absolutely love you

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

you've adapted quickly and zhongli never failed to witness it first hand, how you're tending to learn and pick up on the smallest, tiniest indications which you knew would make it a lot more comfortable with him— because obviously given his size being quite exceptional, it's challenging to keep him in at times, or have him inside of you at all for that matter.

even whenever he's placing both his thumbs against your puffed up pussy to spread you apart before ultimately lining himself up, your thighs begin to burn heavily whilst keeping them all nicely split for him, knowing that he'll never hurt you and will always go slow at first, instantly grabbing your attention when he rubs his fat cockhead along your oozing slit— and those golden eyes of his, full of need and want, yet withstanding the craving to stuff you fuller, his mind warning him that it won't fit in right away.

"how do you feel?" his kind voice was now— sheltered behind gravel, his utters thundering deep from his chest as he rotates his hips a little with— currently, only half of him being pressed inside. it's sweet when he asks you, sometimes even three to four times before he'll get to it properly and fucks you like he means it from the bottom of his heart.

subsequently, you hum in approval when he kisses your cheeks and adds small ruts on your cunt, recognizably becoming excited to finally please his angel darling just like you ever so much deserved, "it feels.. so.." your words suddenly get pulled back into your throat with a hitch when zhongli inches his weight on top of you to lay more comfortably himself, forgetting that with that particular movement, he'll target your pussy with another inch, which you never went beyond that, yet the wet lips of your cunt easily slip him in despite the delicious burn piercing your skin, your walls drumming around his thick shaft.

"fuck—" you gasp out, hiccuping, roughly catching your breath and scratching against his shoulders before arching your back into his hooking touch;

"more, fuck.. more, please more!"

the worry of him going to break you had long since melted away or must’ve teleported itself into the abyss because right now, your entire body was at his unwavering power when he granted you your tasteful wish at last, each of his thrusts driving you deeper into the mattress underneath, the bed scratching against the wooden floor, your tight walls twitching and rippling just the right amount as zhongli groans out against your parted lips, throat rumbling softly around him with that devoted smile on his face.

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

a naked whine amplifies the rhythmic thrusts of neuvillette on top of you before you're gritting your teeth together in concentration, holding yourself tight against his massive shoulders as his huge, dripping cock continues to indulge into your warm pussy guzzling him in all sweetly— and you feel crowded inside, stuffed full and so warm, your legs too, spreading a little wider, evidently attempting to make room for him whilst hiccuping into his neck.

you can tell how close you both were to relishing in your orgasm, with his cock nudging inside of you in a way which you never felt before, because tonight— it's been the first time you allowed him to slide more of him past your tight, little pussy. hitting so far inside of you while you're messily soiling his girth, gushing all around his shaft and experiencing a new feeling of sensitivity judging by your ragged heaves and hiccups, his hips never faltering and pounding in and out of you so fast— bulging and crowding you, making you taste how it felt to relish in being fucked by a thick cock reaching all the bristling, wanting places inside.

"are you alright?" he suddenly asks, as if he wasn't just in the midst of something, like fucking the broad daylight out of your skull, idly holding his hips stilled before observing your fucked out expression— it's when you realize that you might've winced a little too loud, screamed his name as if in pain when in reality it was the most delicious pleasure someone ever graced you with, though you probably scared neuvillette into thinking that he's being way too rough with you tonight.

whilst unbeknownst to him, you adored whenever he revealed this hidden side of him, it makes his eyes and horns glow— most notably embarrass him when he suddenly realises.

ah, you're just so utterly and undoubtedly in love with neuvillette, your sweet and handsome neuvillette, how he's always asking you, many times, if he's doing it correctly— pleasing your pussy until you're cumming, but the right way. on top of that, he'll never put the word "fuck" into his mouth, despising such route of phraseology;

for the man, it was simply making love to you;

whilst funnily enough, if you think about it— how he's amplifying the blows on your cunt with as much strength as he believed you could handle, bottling the entire thing inside of him before ultimately adding into each of his sloppy thrusts, especially the loud, drilling slapping sounds of skin against skin penetrating your ears as you fuck yourself up against him, bracing yourself on every last drag of his drenched erection.

without a doubt, it doesn't look like "making love", not when he was insatiable without realizing it, filling the room inside your pussy as his eyes glow a light blue, signalizing how emotionally involved he was in this, how this had to be the pinnacle of getting to know ones body and soul.

and neuvillette, he never fails to leave his fingers gently around your own, tranquilizing your skin with his large palm radiating warmth, his tongue then melting into your mouth, kissing you at last.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify