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superblysubpar · 25 days

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oh you sweet lovely angel, happy birthday week @palmtreesx3 - you've had your cake, now it's time for steve to eat too💛

warnings: minor mentions of body image concerns/letting them go, "public" smut (aka, you're outside by the pool, and maybe a neighbor *could* hear or see, but they won't), mentions of alcohol, steve telling you what to do you and both of you liking it, a praise kink sort of, and oral - steve performing

1495 words

Maybe it’s something only people in love can do, or perhaps only that sweet bubble of lust and love joining together to create this totally new feeling that allows it.

Maybe it was just something you and Steve could do.

Because, without opening your eyes, you can feel his eyes on you.

And they’re making your body warmer than the rapidly fading sun has all day.

They’re on your ankle now, traveling up the curve of your calf, the bend of your knees and your lips twitch. You know if you turned your head and blinked open your eyes, you’d find him with just his eyes out of the clear water that mirrors the pink and tangerine in the sky above him.

You decide you’ll let him have his moment.

Steve’s currently deciding he hates the color red.

He hates it on your toes, because it’s reminding him of you painting them earlier. A moment where your sunglasses were pushed onto the top of your head and your body was curled over itself, letting curves and rolls and things happen you’d normally try to cover just to reach them, your mouth forming the words of top forty after top forty song.

Happy. Content. Totally in love with the day. With him.

Which is what you told him from where you laid in a floating tube a few hours later as he handed you a can. Sweating droplets over red aluminum as your head fell backwards and your smile was more dazzling than the sun in the middle of the clear blue sky.

He had watched you a little greedily, swallowing when you did, wishing he was the red can you were drinking out of.

You’d laughed, flicked water at him and said he needed the beer more than you. That he needed to cool off, reading him better than the actual book in your hand.

But how could he cool off when you were still wearing that?

Red little bows against your hips.

Red triangle of fabric rudely separating him from you.

Red that traveled up your shoulders and disappeared behind your neck resting on the towel beneath you.

Red that teasingly let the curve of each breast taunt him all fucking day.

Your hands twitched from where they laid flat against the pavement as the sound of water falling off of his body near the stairs alerted you Steve was finally getting out of the pool.

Steve’s watching your eyelids flutter, the way your knees tap together tighter as he slowly approaches you.

The air pulses with each step he gets closer, the cicadas buzz louder and despite the sunset taking away the heat, your body is on fire when Steve finally speaks with a tap to the top of your knees.

“Open these up for me, honey.”

The words are a command, despite how softly they’re spoken.

Your stomach fizzles and warms as you do as you’re told and a cold drop of chlorine scented water drips onto your stomach accompanied by praise.

“That’s my girl,” his hands aid you, palming over the inside of your thighs as they drop open for him, “There you go.”

Steve clicks his tongue when you flinch at the second drop, a soft and teasing remorse in his tone as a large hand roams low again, circling your knee and back up.

“You cold?”

A breath huffs out of your nose when your back arches as his fingers play with the bow at your hip.

Your eyes finally open, a dazzling sunset above the man grinning smugly at you as you shake your head and let out an even shakier, “No.”

Water clings to his tan skin, a particular drop convincing you to never look away from his cupid’s bow ever again. Darker, chestnut hair falls over his forehead as he cocks his head to the side in a silent ‘That so?’ while one singular fingertip travels across the band of your suit.

His lips twitch as goosebumps rise to the surface of your skin.

He brushes over a fresh wave of them, just above the tie of the suit, with his thumb, and leans down, eyes remaining on yours as he blows a warm breath against the pebbled skin.

“Steve,” your hands lift with the plea, only for Steve’s much larger ones to wrap around your wrists.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he shakes his head, the honey turning amber in his eyes as you freeze and blink up at him with a pout on your lips. Until he reminds you, warmly, softly, “Just painted your nails baby. Wouldn’t wanna ruin ‘em, yeah?”

Your chest fucking aches as he gingerly lays them back down and reassures, “How about you just lay there and look pretty?”

It’s hard to breathe from the eye contact, from the way he takes the end of the red bow between his teeth and tugs.

Steve’s nose nudges your hip, it skates across the looser band of the suit, till he’s at the other side.

He doesn’t undo that bow though, he just follows the suit’s seam lower, dropping with the crease where it meets your thigh.

You jolt, torso lifting and hands doing the same as his tongue licks you once and boldly through the red fabric.

Steve lifts too, quicker than you, reading you just as well, hands circling your forearms and giving you a look beneath raised eyebrows.

A silent question of if you’re going to behave lingers in the honey that’s turned amber that’s turned molten. You give a single nod, Steve drops your arms and his adams apple bobs as you slowly and patiently, let your hands drop back down to the towel.

Your clit fucking throbs, pulsing faster than your heart as you blink away spots that compete with the lazy clouds above you.

Steve’s lips press a kiss to your thigh and you squirm beneath him. The kiss lingers and his lips drag up to the wiggling and needy hips moving.

“So,” he grumbles against the red fabric, nosing at the second tie, “Impatient.”

You whimper as the suit falls open, and Steve licks the path of it as he removes it, like he’s following the outline he’s been memorizing all day and determined to not actually ever put his mouth where you want it.

His thumbs spread you open though, and finally, his tongue lazily licks through you once.

Your fingers flex against the towel as your stomach burns, desperate to just grab his hair and pull him closer, but you know if you move one more time, he might never stop teasing you.

Except you’re so wrong, because while Steve does love teasing you, he’s about 2.7 seconds from coming in his swim trunks and it’s all the color red’s fault.

Which is what he sees as he looks up your stomach as his mouth makes contact with you again. Red fabric tightening over pebbling nipples as you arch higher and gasp out his name a little too filthy and a little too loud for a neighborhood, even if there are fences hiding the two of you.

But it only spurs him on more, fingers bruising into your waist as he picks up the pace, tongue traveling up you once, twice, three - fucking keep going Harrington you need her to cum -, his nose tapping at your clit each time and getting rewarded with a, “Ye-yes. Steveohmygod.”

Your eyes blink rapidly, fingers scrunching into the towel and your thighs press against his ears as you gasp through his steady and brutal rhythm. A fluid and practiced drag of his tongue over and over and over again, until his lips are molded around your clit and you swear there’s fireworks going off in the sky right now.

Steve squeezes his own eyes shut, because if he looks at the way your back arches higher or the way your lips look saying his name like that or the way your chest heaves with a new layer of glistening of sweat, he really will come and he can’t, because he’s absolutely not done with you.

He blinks, mouth sucking slower, tongue lingering until he knows you can’t take anymore. He pulls away and smiles as your bright red fingers cup your cheeks as you breathe deeply, in and out, through your nose.

Steve pretends he’s not just as worked up, carefully and slowly tying your suit closed again.

He kisses your stomach as you sit up and before your parting mouth can say anything, he nods towards the house.

“Go lay down on the bed.”

Steve bites his lower lip as the retreating view of your ass bouncing under the high cut of red disappears into the sliding door faster than he’s ever seen a person move.

He waits a solid ten seconds to calm down, grabs the bottle of polish you left behind and makes note of the name.

He’s buying every bottle the store has tomorrow.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smu #superbly subpar steve smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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slavic-roots-western-mind · 3 months

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Desserts in China

There's quite a large variety of treats and desserts in China (more than you can imagine), so here are some of the most common ones!

Almond jelly/tofu - 杏仁豆腐 - xìngréndòufu Despite the name, almond jelly doesn't actually have almonds in it. Almond jelly is made from gelatin and almond milk, although some recepies use dairy milk instead.

Glutinous rice balls - 汤圆 - tāngyuán These rice balls are made from glutinous rice balls with a sweet filling, such as red bean paste (a pretty popular filling in desserts, I've been fooled more than once when purchasing what I assumed to be a chocolate filled pastry).

Red bean buns - 豆沙包 - dòushābāo One of my favorite desserts so far. These are steamed buns with a sweet red bean paste filling that I'd definitely recommend.

Egg custard bun - 流沙包 - liúshābāo A sweet and savory bun, with a lava-like egg yolk filling. A pretty interesting dessert, as it's both sweet and savory.

Pumpkin cake - 南瓜饼 - nánguābǐng I haven't tried this yet, but it definitely looks good. A fried and crunchy cake with a sweet filling such as red bean paste.

Eight treasure rice pudding - 八宝饭 -bābǎofàn This is a pretty popular dessert, especially during the Lunar New Year. It gets this name becase of the toppings, which are eight or more different types of dried fruits and nuts arranged on top of the sweet rice, with (once again) red bean paste.

Hawthorn stick/ Candied Haws/ Sugar coated haws/ Bingtanghulu - 冰糖葫芦 - bīngtánghúlu This treat has quite a few translations and you may have probably already seen it. This is basically candied fruit covered with a sweet, crunchy and sugary syrup. Traditionally, Hawthorn is used but other fruits such as grapes, strawberries and oranges are also popular options.

Sachima - 沙琪玛 - shāqímǎ I haven't tried this snack yet, but it looks quite fascinating. Sachima is made from fried batter stuck together with a sugary syrup, with an interesting texture.

Sesame balls - 芝麻球 - zhīmaqiú Similar to the rice glutinous balls, this treat is also made from glutinous rice flour with varying fillings including lotus seeds, mung bean and red beans, and sesame seeds.

Water chestnut cake A sweet pan-fried cake made from chinese water chestnut, with a unique semi-transparent appearance.

Wintermelon puff/ Wife cake/ Sweetheartcake - 老婆餅 - lǎopóbǐng This cake has many names, mainly because it has several different origin stories, each more fascinating than the next. This dessert is a flaky pastry with wintermelon, almond (not red bean this time!) paste and sesame filling.

Fortune cake - 发糕 - fāgāo Not a fortune cookie! This is a spongy steamed cupcake cake commonly made for the New Lunar Year celebrations and occasionally other events. They're usually a white-ish or brown-ish color, but they're often dyed bright colors to add extra festivity.

Mooncake - 月饼 - yuèbǐng This is a pretty well-known dessert, commonly prepared for the Mid-Autumn Festival. Mooncakes are smallish steamd/fried (depends on the region) cakes with a sweet filling that can also sometimes have an egg yolk inside.

Osmanthus cake - 桂花糕 - guìhuāgāo This is a unique traditional pastry made from glutinous rice flour, honey and osmanthus. This cake has a really interesting texture, as it's quite dense but also airy in a way? I'd definitely recommend trying it, as it's not super sweet and goes really well with tea.

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lynnarang · 7 months

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Bathtime

"My lady, is that not enough for today?"

The young noblewoman's focus was pulled from her swordsmanship training by a polite, feminine voice. Sunlight glistened off individual beads of sweat as the muscular woman caught her maid staring at her. Although her maid's expression was neutral as always, the intensity of her stare and the slight blush on her cheeks gave away her true thoughts. When she caught her lady's eyes, the maid quickly broke eye contact and stared downwards, although whether this was out of subservience or embarrassment was unclear... The noble liked to think it was both.

"Very well, I can stop here for today. Am I to assume you have already drawn a bath?"

"Yes, my lady."

Putting away her practice blade, the noble wiped the sweat from her brow and grinned.

"Lead the way then."

A few minutes (and some very helpful hands stripping her bare) later, the noble breathed out a sigh of relief as the warm water washed away the hard-earned sweat of her training. Behind her, the maid was hard at work, washing out her lady's long locks. The noble couldn't help but admire her whenever a sidelong glance would allow it. Even with her head bowed downward, the maid's chestnut bob cut framed the soft features of her face beautifully. Desire welled within the noblewoman, desire that was unbefitting of either of their stations, but desire she was keen to indulge all the same.

"Would you not join me?"

The single questioned roused an instant response from her maid, first in the form of a wide-eyed blush and then in the form of a stammered denial.

"M-My lady that would be inappropriate--"

"And why is that? I hardly think it suits a lady of my status to have an unbathed servant."

The noble smirked, watching her maid flounder for an excuse that would save her. Too adorable...

"W-Wait... Could you be perhaps... Teasing me right now?"

Okay, that was too much. The noble burst out in laughter while her maid's mouth warped into a heavy pout.

"My lady! You shouldn't tease me so brazenly. What if I... What if I were to get the wrong idea?"

This prompted the noble to quit laughing, instead leveling her servant with a serious eye. Even naked she cut an imposing figure, one that demanded attention and authority.

"And what idea would that be?"

"That my lady desires more than a mere servant could provide..."

The maid met her mistresses gaze, nerves still apparent but eyes full of something more than her words could convey.

"Well then... Perhaps one day, you'll be more than a 'mere servant', and once that day comes..."

The two women's fingers interlaced with one another, their faces now only inches apart.

"When that day comes, I would be honored to share a bath with you."

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

"My lady, it really isn't necessary. This one can take care of itself--"

"No. You need to conserve your energy, you took a pretty big hit back there."

The vampire cut her doll off mid-sentence, hands currently hard at work scrubbing out the grime that had caked into its limbs. For as much as her doll fussed, it had barely been put back together after its last fight. It shouldn't be moving more than was absolutely necessary. And yet, the doll remained willful.

"At the very least, my lady should be taking a bath as well. She smells filthy, it ill suits her."

"Guess I need to wash your mouth out too while I'm at it."

Something about the conversation made the vampire's thoughts flashback to centuries prior, to a time when their lives where much simpler than they were today. She smiled at the bittersweet memories of times lost, tenderly working her way down her doll's body.

"Have I earned that honor yet, I wonder..."

The doll perked its head, bewildered.

"Honor? It was unaware its lady still had any of that."

Despite its neutral expression and cruel words, the vampire could still sense the same feeling in its gaze from all those years ago. She knew it didn't remember everything from back then even half as well as she did, but being with it like this, it was hard to feel lonely in her memories. Muscular arms now bearing the weight of hundreds of battles embraced the doll from behind, prompting a response that was both familiar to the vampire and unusual to the doll.

"M-My lady?"

Despite everything, the doll's blush was just as intoxicating now as it had been hundreds of years ago. Scratch that, it had aged like fine wine, and only now could the vampire appreciate its true worth.

"I've changed my mind. May I join you in there, my dear servant?"

There was a brief flicker of confusion on the doll's face, until it was washed away with a subtle nod and a warm smile.

"This one would be honored."

#empty spaces #microfiction #writing #dollposting #vampire posting #my ocs #birthday gift for my girlfriend

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irenadel · 1 month

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And if the devil... 2/9

Smut at last, you have been warned Aemond Targaryen x Maid!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

“It won’t always be like this, ya know?”

It is very late at night, and you are only shelling chestnuts because your eyes cannot darn clothes under an oil lamp, no matter how good quality it used to be when it was new. Angus does this often, hang around, lugging his big, awkward arms, thinking he is being subtle and moody about it. A little romantic. Deep thoughts and smart plans. But more often, he ends up looking like a very large, very sullen wardrobe. It would have been endearing if it didn’t make housework so bloody hard all the time. You hand him the other bag and he sits down to work with you. Shells for the chickens to peck at, one bag as a dinner treat, the other for your cousins Bree and Delma to roast and sell. Leftovers from a castle kitchen were often generous.

“I’ll be done with the apprenticeship in no time,” he says, voice still cracking a bit when he’s nervous. You scoff, perhaps unkindly, because he has just started the damn thing, and the gods know if you’ll be able to finish paying for it, but he continues on bravely. “I’ll be bringing in good coin and Delma and Bree will marry and you’ll find a fat, old man who’ll keel over and leave you his shop, and you won’t ever have to work for royal cunts again.”

You cuff him over the head once, and he is more surprised by the meanness of your glare than the blow. You are surprised too, try to soften it by sneaking him a shelled chestnut and cleaning his neck for him. He’s gotten sloppy about washing it since he stopped living at home.

“They’re not so bad,” you say after some time in silence. Angus fidgets but keeps shelling, always a bit uncomfortable when you withdraw to think.

“Is the princess pretty?”

You stop for a moment. You can’t really see him in the dim light of the sputtering lamp, your cousin, near grown now, the pimples still doting his chin. You wish it would go both ways and that he didn’t have to see you either.

You try not to think about the prince and princess when you’re at home. They do not belong here, in the smelly yard, with the scraggly chickens rummaging among the trash and your mud-caked feet. The girl you are around them has no place here either. She’s too wild and headstrong to be kind to Angus when he offers you a cage like he’s offering you a gift.

You try not to think of knives and sapphires and hair so soft and heavy it’s like bolts of white satin.

“They’re all pretty,” you answer disdainfully.

Angus smiles a little meanly, satisfied in your eye-roll and apparent exasperation with royalty. He does not see the fondness come to your face or the way it softness the edges of your mouth and the cast of your eyes.

“You know how to fight.”

He’d cornered you outside the laundry, after dumping Helaena’s morning ewer of water and hauling down half the princess’s laundry. Your eyes were infuriatingly fixed back on the floor. Your head exasperatingly lowered back into submission. He was almost amused to discover your courtesies were just as bad as the first time he’d seen them.

“My prince.”

And Aemond Targaryen did not let himself mistake the dismissal for an honorific as you tried to slither past him, ignoring the question that had not been asked. It was your stubborn push against his body, thrilling and oddly satisfying, stopping immediately after you’d heard the whistle of his Valyrian steel dagger, just a few seconds before he buried it in a beam of aged wood right beside your ear.

A few seconds but not before.

He regarded you with a cock-sure tilt to his head. Stranger and stranger you were, perfectly still now with a handful of prince shoved against your front, trapped against the wall, with Helaena’s porcelain ewer laying in pieces at your feet, and your chest heaving like it had that day at the fountain. Aemond was only vaguely aware of his own stirring arousal until you’d looked up to glare at him with eyes red as fresh blood.

“But you don’t fight well,” he’d said to you and laughed at your indignant flush when you’d been unable to help yourself and faced him at last. “You should be quicker than that. You let things go by you that you don’t have to. A punch.”

He’d given himself the luxury of touching the fading bruise on your cheekbone, both sick and delighted at your shiver of fear, the squirming of your trapped body.

“A dagger.”

He’d wrenched the lovely, deadly thing out of the wooden beam and used the hilt to tilt your oddly pointed chin back towards him. Long hooked nose. The deep set shadow of your eyes. He was missing something in your features, some clue that was there, barely eluding him, distracted as he was by how pink your albino lips were this close up.

He’d offered the hilt of the dagger to your slack, sweat-slicked hand.

“Go on. Try it. You’re quick but I’m quicker. Give me your best shot.”

Aemond had never had much of an idea of how one went about bending serving wenches over furniture, the way his brother would endlessly brag about. Had preferred it that way. Had done his best to forget those few unsettling visits to the Street of Silk besides Aegon. But now he wondered. He wondered too if there was something as rotten and festering inside of him as whatever hid within his brother, because he liked this better. Your racing heart. Your shuddering breath. The impossible to follow train of emotions darting across your face as your hand closed around the offered dagger.

Would you strike?

Would you be too scared?

Unable to?

“You can’t see,” Aemond had whispered the secret he’d guessed against your ear, savoring the broken sound you let out. “At least not well. Here, let me help you, my heart is right here.”

And he’d known he’d made the right choice in you because when he’d placed your pale hand against his equally pale chest, leather doublet opened for a truer strike, your stubby kitten nails had buried into his skin and his prick, half-forgotten in the heat of the moment had twinged in sympathy with your sudden, grimly determined look.

Do it, Aemond Targaryen had thought wildly, do it, do it, do it.

And you did. Dagger clattering to the floor, your knee coming up between his legs and he was on the ground laughing through the pain as you tried to make yourself scarce. Brave enough to knee a prince in the groin, still too scared to stay to face the aftermath. But you did turn around before disappearing into the kitchens. You spat into the ground, glared at him and mouthed something, no doubt a vile insult, something Aemond remembered long afterwards, sometimes in a fury, sometimes in warm satisfaction. Ifak, you had called him between clenched teeth, with a click at the back of your throat that no Westerosi girl could have ever produced and that defiant toss of your hair, like an unbroken wild horse. Walker, in a strange tongue from across the sea, that Aemond had encountered once in an old dusty book and would now eagerly seek out again.

“I’m not a whore for you and your ifak chiftik brother to pass around.”

Aemond had laughed again, rejoicing in the pain. He laughed because he hoped you had kneed Aegon too, thrown a chamber pot his way for good measure. Because you would know better soon. He would teach you better. You would know the difference between a snake and a dragon.

After, he dreamt about you often.

Alone at night. When Ser Criston told him about piety and decorum and the way he would be expected to treat the ladies at court. When his mother spoke of his duty to his future lady wife. Always to him, never to Aegon who could bloody use it. He hated each admonition as much as he treasured it. Knew his mother harped on him only because he would listen, unlike his brother. He would strife for it, the perfection she longed for in any of her children, if only to please her, even though he saw the way the court looked at him. Girls afraid. Women pityingly. Too strange and disquieting if he ever removed the eyepatch. Too intimidating when he kept it on. Always he knew it was better to be fearsome than fearful.

His brother and nephews had taught him that lesson well and he was loath to part with it, even for you.

Still, he dreamt of you instead of simpering ladies. He dreamt of you and shuddered at the visceral memory you conjured, of that first time in the Street of Silk, when Aemond had thought fear long gone from his life only to have his brother bring it back. Strange sounds and smells and hands on him and the faintly nauseous pleasure of the first time a woman had touched his cock, he too young and unready to know what to do or say, she too used to obeying Prince Aegon’s orders to do anything other than her job.

He dreamt of you in those silken sheets, the proud toss of your coarse yellow hair, the odd cast of your red eyes, between his legs, telling him to relax, layback and enjoy himself.

My prince, you would call him as you took him in your mouth the way Aegon’s prostitute had and he swore in his bed, far away from the incense and the oils of that moment, taking himself in hand, thinking of your clenched teeth and angry words. As he fucked his fist in a hurry, angrily chasing the memory of your hissed insult, he would think of every time he had encountered you near Helaena’s room, eyes no longer lowered, feet firmly planted on the stone floor to face him.

You, too ready to fight him if he moved towards you. He, too ready to rip the bonnet off your head to wrap the heavy length of your braid around his hand. You, too ready to let him pull you into an embrace you knew to be sheer madness.

Because it wasn’t idle curiosity anymore.

It wasn’t simple lust that made Prince Aemond near double over from the strength of his arousal every time he saw a bruise on your blotchy sun-burnt face or an angry red mark around your pale wrist. It was more than desire he felt the first time he saw your split lip and cornered you against a wall again, brushing with his thumb the scab that just hours ago had been seeping blood, breathing too heavily, manhood too hard to think. And this time you had been caught by surprise by his tenderness, unable to summon outrage and false pride to throw him off you or even the common sense to acquiesce to whatever a prince of the realm could demand of you.

No. Prince Aemond’s hunger had awakened in you demands of your own.

You had taken his thumb into your mouth and bitten down so hard you heard him hiss a breath in and felt him fall into your arms. He had kissed you, his royal Valyrian blood still fresh on your lips, and your tongue had sought his out, even as his hands, one still bleeding, had wrapped around your hips, yanked them towards him, your legs off the floor and around his waist. You hadn’t known what it would be like to fuck a man you wanted so much but Aemond seemed willing to learn with you, ruffling desperately through your thin petticoat and your smallclothes until his cloth-trapped erection had finally rubbed against your heat. Wet, gloriously, smolderingly wet. And he had seen you grimace like you were in pain, a graceless, hungry sound escaping your throat, and he had known Aegon had fucking robbed him. Because this was the way it was supposed to be, and not whatever poor mummery had befallen him in that brothel.

Your mouth sloppily trying to devour his, your arms around his neck, holding on while he pushed his hips into yours, better, sweeter, harder than he had ever fucked any of Aegon’s painted girls. It was impossible, as he let your mouth go and panted against your ear, a deep hungry growl that he had not known he had learnt from Vhagar escaping him, it was impossible to reach for anything more. He wanted inside you, inside the wet, hot promise of your clothed cunt, but would not suffer a second away from you and knew, without a shadow of doubt, that he had been right to refuse, because he felt your hips meet his, you grinding against his throbbing prick, head thrown back against the stone wall and heard, in your desperately muffled cry, heard the first of your peaks. And he had not known anything else after that, except the savage joy of the hunt. Of pushing you against the wall and grinding into your core hard and fast and brutal, chasing after your pleasure, panting harshly, teeth-grittingly determined to fight his own throbbing desire, until you bit your lip to keep from crying out your next peak. Again and again, his hips driving madly into yours as he promised you anything, everything if you would just come for him one more time. He came on your third, because you snaked one trembling hand between your bodies, shoved it inside his laces and wrapped it around him, tight and merciless, looking at him straight in the eye, patch askew, sapphire glinting in the low candlelight, yanking on his prick, once, twice until he was coming all over your hand, legs near failing him as you both toppled unto the cold stone floor, a tangle of limbs and clothes.

You’d wiped your hand gods know where and let him rest his forehead against your racing heart, until his own would stop hammering madly in his ears. It was the way you looked at him after that destroyed him, that trapped him forever in the ribcage that held your own wildly beating heart. Because you looked at him like it pained you. You brushed his white hair out of his face the way you did Helaena’s, tenderly, kindly, the way you had never touched him before. You thumbed the edge of the scar on his cheekbone, and let the words escape your mouth: “You’re beautiful.”

And when you said it like this, like you were fighting a losing battle, like it hurt coming out, then Aemond could believe it.

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #dothraki reader #hotd fanfic #iresmut #and if the devil…#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fic #maid reader #my writing

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artemis-potnia-theron · 9 months

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UPG things I personally associate with different deities -

(color, flower, food, animal, song)

☀️ Apollon:

- Orange

- Daffodils

- Glazed donuts

- Cardinals

- 'Inkpot Gods' by The Amazing Devil

🌙 Artemis:

- Gold

- Dandelions

- Crawfish boils

- Wild horses

- 'The Horror and the Wild' by The Amazing Devil

🗝 Hekate:

- Silver

- Lavender

- Gumbo

- Possums

- 'Black Water' by Reuben And The Dark

🐉 Tiamat:

- Ebony

- Irises

- Squid ink pasta

- Blue whales

- 'God Is Alive, Magic Is Afoot' by Buffy Sainte-Marie

🌹 Aphrodite:

- Periwinkle

- Carnations

- Oysters on half shell

- Seahorses

- 'Love Like This' by Lauren Daigle

🧚🏼‍♀️ Aine:

- Teal

- Wisteria

- Candied apples

- Hummingbirds

- 'Flowers in my Hair' by Wes Reeve

🔥 Brigid:

- Maroon

- Sunflowers

- Shepherd's pie

- Rabbits

- 'The Bones' by Maren Morris

🐦‍⬛ The Morrigan:

- Crimson

- Jasmine

- Stuffed peppers

- Turkey vultures

- 'White Winter Hymnal' by the Fleet Foxes

⚔️ Ares:

- Bronze

- Snapdragons

- Beef wellington

- Hippopotamus

- 'Lion' by Saint Mesa

🐈‍⬛ Bast:

- Magenta

- Hydrangeas

- Sushi

- Mountain lions

- 'Metaphor' by The Crane Wives

🏵 Freyja:

- Violet

- Peonies

- Chocolate

- Parrots

- 'Dance in the Graveyards' by Delta Rae

🦢 Caer Ibormeith:

- Ivory

- Water lilies

- Angel food cake

- Herons

- 'Winter Song' by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles

🌌 Nyx:

- Dark blue

- Orchids

- French onion soup

- Fruit bats

- 'Saturn' by Sleeping at Last

🌾 Demeter:

- Chestnut

- Cornflowers

- Eggplant parmesan

- Foxes

- 'Hallelujah' by Leonard Cohen

🥀 Persephone:

- Indigo

- Baby's-Breath

- Jambalaya

- Owls

- 'The Rockrose and the Thistle' by The Amazing Devil

🦁 Kybele:

- Burgundy

- Daisies

- Kebabs

- Elephants

- 'Sleeping Giants' by The Crane Wives

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lansplaining · 9 months

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You know what? We need more crazy-about-her-sibs!JYL! Her babying her brothers after a hard battle, making mile long lists of how best to take care of them to send along to CR for their summer classes, her having much stricter requirements as to what their partners should be. We always talk about her brother’s codependency but we need to go more into hers for them.

I love this, but imo-- people wish Yanli made lists. People wish she interrogated their potential spouses. But no.

What happens is, the boys come back from like, a week in Meishan with mom's side of the family, and one of the cousins is describing the amazing dinner they had one night and Yanli's just softly like "oh..."

And the cousin's like, "Oh no, what?"

And Yanli's like "No, no, it's nothing at all really... just, you said you had osmanthus cakes, and the boys really prefer water chestnut cakes... I'm sure it was fine though, I'm sure they had plenty to eat anyway.........."

#ask answered

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nkn0va · 26 days

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Request(Blazblue): On the day of their birthday's Makoto, Noel, Tsubaki, and Mai's S/O's back them their favorite dishes (Mai's S/O even asking Noel to help them cook for her).

I am so sorry if this gets repetitive, that's kinda how it goes sometimes for 4 character requests. Probably gonna be a bit shorter than usual.

-It doesn't take much to figure out what kind of food Makoto likes. Not only does her heritage make it pretty obvious but she's also quite the foodie in general.

-She doesn't have any particular favorite food but she is a big sweets gal, and of course being a squirrel, nuts are a personal favorite of hers. There are plenty of dishes out there that meet both those criteria, you have options.

-Eventually the idea you decided on was a chestnut parfait. Sweet, easy to make, had nuts, and had fruits to make it at least somewhat healthy. The perfect plan.

-When lunch eventually rolls around you head up to Makoto and present it to her while wishing her a happy birthday. Her mouth almost starts to water right then and there.

-She scarfs it down at record speeds that are frankly a bit concerning. She certainly enjoyed it though judging by her smile and the way her tail couldn't seem to stop wagging.

-As soon as she's done her arms wrap around you immediately in an enthusiastic showing of thanks. She's absolutely going to ask you for more in the future.

-Noel's not too much of a foodie, she absolutely prefers to cook instead of eat, much to everyone's dismay.

-However her birthday happens to fall on Christmas, so you have as good of an excuse as any to make something for her. A traditional Christmas dish could fulfill your needs well.

-You spend hours toiling away in the kitchen, making a nice, full meal for the both of you to enjoy. You figured it'd be a nice thing to do for both of you since work in the NOL has left you both unfortunately unable to go home for Christmas.

-Mercifully, your workload is at least greatly lightened for the day if not outright eliminated entirely. As soon as you're done with what little you have to do and evening comes you invite Noel over to your place, not telling her the reason.

-The first thing Noel is met with is a table filled with steaming hot food, leaving her unable to hold back her shock that you'd go so far for her.

-She doesn't know whether to kiss you or dig right in, however her nervousness gets the best of her and she opts to go for the food, which is by no means a bad choice. The effort and love you put into it really shines through.

-Mission success. Now all that's left is to pray to whatever God will listen that she doesn't get the urge to return the favor...

-Tsubaki is a sucker for chocolate, as much as she tries not to let it get to her. It gets to the point that Jin of all people worries about her in this regard.

-Her birthday just so happens to coincidentally fall on White Day, so you'd likely already be getting her chocolate anyway. The problem is having both occasions on the same day sorta ups the pressure on your part to perform.

-You eventually decided the best way to fill the criteria for both was via chocolate cake. You didn't want just some simple, easy cake from a box anyone could make, you knew she deserved better.

-Then you had an epiphany. You could indeed churn out something worthy of such a lovely lady. After spending a good amount of time in the kitchen you end up with a chocolate cake sweetened with condensed milk along topped with caramel and whipped cream. Surely this would pay off.

-Tsubaki's eyes light up as soon as she sees the fruits of your hard labor, even more so once she takes the first bite. She is practically in heaven. It felt like she was falling for you all over again.

(Can't believe it took this long to finally write for Mai. Though I'm writing this last minute on late night April 21st so what can you do lmao)

-It's rather tough for you to pin down what sort of food Mai would like considering her...complicated relationship with food.

-Whatever you do see her eat, it's completely mangled beyond recognition by whatever the hell Noel does whenever she cooks. You don't know, and frankly you don't think you want to.

-However this is going to turn out to be a nice boon for a change. Not being able to cook for Mai was a serious point of grief for you due to her supertaste, but with Noel around you can finally do so. She immediately agrees to the plan.

-After some discussion about what she typically makes for Mai and what she seems to like best, you two decide on a seafood pilaf. You'd make the base since you wanted to contribute at least something to the dish, and let Noel take it from there.

-Frankly it's a bit scary, leaving her with a perfectly normal dish and then getting it back looking like a weapon of mass destruction. This weapon of mass destruction though was all Mai could eat so you really can't complain. (Not complaining about Noel's cooking...what the hell have you come to...?)

-Mai's grin is practically ear to ear as she eagerly eats everything down, especially once she hears that both you and Noel worked on the dish. As far as she's concerned this is the best damn thing she's ever eaten, thanking you both with a big smile and hug. Being able to eat after what happened is always a treat.

-You still have no idea what Noel does to any food she touches to make it end up the way it does, but perhaps it's one of those mysteries that's just best left unsolved.

#blazblue #blazblue x reader #makoto nanaya #noel vermillion #tsubaki yayoi #mai natsume #x reader #headcanon

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strawwberryshortcaake · 4 months

Text

Just a little something, might be a lulluby melody.

lush and pink are the flowers i give to you,

aligned are the hands that pray to you,

sweetest are the water filled eyes looking at you,

crescent moon shaped is the smile that forms thinking of you,

loved is the heart that loves you.

apple juice filled mugs and cups,

roasted chestnut air in my lungs,

my face is carved to fit yours,

blue, the color of our love,

inside your eyes are forests deep and beautiful,

lime cakes and chocolate milkshakes made from these hands that are devoted to giving you gifts,

jean jackets and loud laughs,

street voices and big sculptures,

to hold your hand and walk around is all i need, my love.

#lovers #love #poetry #love poem #love poetry #lgbtq #lgbtq community #queer love #queer community #wlw love #sapphic #lesbian #nblw #soulmates

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lusifernocturne · 8 months

Text

The Lazy Bowl tavern and inn

A smaller building with three floors; one for the tavern, two for the guest rooms(4 small single rooms[5sp], 2 small rooms with double beds[1gp], and 4 moderate rooms with 2 double beds[8cp]). The innkeeper lives in a moderate room on the first floor. The food is made with local produce, spices, and meat.

Innkeeper: Pyre(earth genesi woman)

Menu (or average price of a room/meal): Fish stew(10cp), Buckwheat Porridge(3 cp), Mug of Cider (3 cp), Stewed Pork and Mushrooms with a Tankard of Cider (7 cp), Boiled Mutton and Rye Bread with a Tankard of Beer (9 cp), Boiled Eggs and Dried Beetroot with Tankard of Bitter (11 cp), Tankard of any drinks on the menu(2cp), Fresh salad and Boiled Mutton(2sp), Fresh salad(12cp), Tea(2cp), coffee(2cp), sweet rolls (4 for 7cp), crab cakes(2 good sized for 5cp), and a dish of the day.

Dish of the day by day of the week-

Monday: Atolla sea chili; made with crabmeat, shrimp, and sea scallops, tomatoes, celery, corn, green onions, kidney beans, and colorful bell peppers. It's a very spicy dish with a hint of sweetness at the end. It's served with sweet rolls and a drink of your choice.(5sp)

Tuesday: Grilled bass or trout and mixed vegetables(made up of mushrooms, beets, yellow squash, brussels sprouts, and asparagus). Served with either Rye Bread or a side salad and a drink of your choice.(10cp)

Wednesday: Fish of the day(up to you) with garlic sauce and noodles. Served with mixed fruit(also up to you) and a drink of your choice.(6cp)

Thursday: Fish and chips or Rum-Glazed Shrimp, batter scraps , and rye bread and butter. Served with a drink of your choice, and if wanted lemon wedges and/or a sauce(Tartare, Salt and vinegar, or curry). (3sp)

Friday: Baked Salmon with lemon and garlic, cabbage and rutabaga Slaw, and mixed berry salad. Server with rolls and a drink of your choice.(3sp)

Saturday: Beef stir-fry made with bell peppers, snap peas, carrots, water chestnuts, and green onions. It has a delicious scent and taste combination. Served with a drink of your choice and either sweet rolls or crab cakes.(5sp)

Sunday: 1. Garlicky Lemon Mahi Mahi, seared scallops, ruby red beet & apple salad, and baked potato. Served with a drink of your choice and either sweet rolls or rye bread & butter.(8sp)

2. Seafood Jambalaya made with shrimp, two buttermilk cornbread muffins, collard greens, and corn on the cob. Served with a drink of your choice and either crab balls, hush puppies, or rolls.(6sp)

Rumors: Small jobs, gnoll attacks, places that may need help, crime, and local gossip.

#tavern #City of Atolla #dungeons and dragons #dnd worldbuilding #world building #dnd tavern #dnd food #dnd drink #Pyre DnD #dnd homebrew #homebrew #The Lazy Bowl tavern and inn

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warrioreowynofrohan · 1 year

Text

There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars, and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous hooks that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow of the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags, and eaten after dinner.

The Grocers'! oh, the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint, and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh, that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn outside for general inspection, and for Christmas daws to peck at if they chose.

I love this passage so much! It’s partly that no one in our day wites like this any more, and I love the richness and delight of all the descriptions, and it’s partly that virtually no one in our day would think of rhapsodizing about the things Dickens does, because they’re so taken for granted. Most of these are things you would see in your local supermarket! Sone of them are my particular favourites (filberts, aka hazelnuts, are always a treat), but who of us would imagine rhapsodozing about onions? Apples and oranges aren’t generally treated as anything special either. (Norfolk Biffins, if you’re wondering, are a dessert apple - I’d never heard of them outside A Christmas Carol.) Tea, coffee, raisins, almonds, cinnamon - Dickens make us see the wonder in things that would otherwise be commonplace. A good challenge for me is to go to my local grocery store and try to see everything through Dickens’ eyes.

I wish that we could get the mood of Christmas back to one he describes, and not one of hurry and stress and frustration!

#dickens december #a christmas carol #charles dickens

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sharkneto · 1 year

Note

73 for the wrapped game. Five vs his environment 🤠

Our cheeky little ruse like we weren't talking about this prompt/result last night when I was supposed to be going to bed ;) But tis for you, friend.

Spotify Wrapped writing prompt game

#73 is No Glory in the West - Orville Peck, which makes me think of, well, the West and that means cowboys and cowboys means horses and horses means Five vs his greatest enemy. So, some backstory for that alluded to moment in the Horse Fic -

cw horse death

Five frowns down at the problem.

Un-fucking-believable.

He’s been in some pinches. Been in some ridiculous situations, between his half-hazy memories of the Academy days and the much clearer memories of the past couple years working for the Commission.

This one might take the goddamn cake, though.

“No,” he tells the horse he’s staring down at, like that’s going to fix its obviously broken leg. It snorts at him, brown side heaving as its eye rolls. It thrashes a little, whether in pain or in a sad attempt to get up on its three functional legs, he isn’t sure.

What he is sure about is that he is still miles from the podunk little town his target is in. He pulls her picture from his pocket, a careful sketch made by the Analytics department because she’s not a person important enough to have gotten her picture taken by an actual camera. What she needs to die for he’s not really sure, he stopped paying attention to that bit of information long ago, somewhere after his twentieth job. What he does pay attention to is the Where and When and Who, and Analytics only got two of those right on this trip and he knows the Handler’s answer to him trying to contact them about that is a sickly sweet then figure it out, so that’s what he did.

Got the woman’s actual address from some too trusting and loud-mouthed men at the saloon, and then got a horse to ride the goddamn prairie for thirty miles to get to the next goddamn town where she better be. He’s already hours later than the estimated completion time, which isn’t his fault but he’ll get blamed for anyway. Sure, he can teleport. Not thirty goddamn miles, though.

Five sighs again as the horse writhes, graceful neck arching as sweat froths on its dark chestnut hide.

It is a beautiful animal. Dumb and inefficient, but he can appreciate that about it at least. It screams again as its thrashing knocks its bad leg.

He knows the leg is broken, felt the lurch and heard the terrible snap as the horse stepped in a poorly-covered prairie dog hole. Blinked off as it fell, safely out of the way from being crushed and at least with the presence of mind to have grabbed the briefcase with him so he still has a way out of frontier. This won’t be his manifest destiny, no fucking thank you.

He runs a hand over his mustache, the dust that covers every inch of him gritty under his fingers.

There really isn’t anything more he can do. He’s within technical walking distance of whatever that little town is. He has the briefcase, he has his gun, he has a bit of food and water.

There’s nothing he can do for this horse except put it out of its misery.

He’ll have to fill in paperwork for the expended bullet, but he can put up with that if it means not leaving the beast to slowly starve and die an agonizing death in the middle of this nothing. Or a much quicker agonizing death when the coyotes come by it in the night.

If Analytics had only done their goddamn research. Either gotten him the right town or the right date for when she still lived in the first town. But no, so now he’s here fixing their mistake for them and has to deal with this.

No use putting it off. The sun is already dipping low in the sky and he has miles to cover now on his own.

Five sets the briefcase down to pull one of his pistols from its holster. He steps to the animal’s head; it’s stopped thrashing again, is now laying quiet in the dirt and breathing heavily. It looks up at him with its big brown eye, ringed with white.

He grimaces down at it. “Sorry,” he tells it, genuine. It shouldn’t have been with him to begin with. Should have lived to step in a hole a different day.

The bang from the gun echoes through the vast emptiness of the prairie.

Five spends another few seconds staring down at the now-still form. The glassy eye stares back at him, unseeing.

That’s that.

He nods to the horse, not that it cares (now or when it was alive), and then turns to gather up his meager supplies. Not a lot of water, but he’s gone farther with less. Same with the food. The briefcase is going to be a pain in his ass to carry. He is thankful he was able to talk Tailoring down from the ridiculous boots they tried to put him in for this much more sensible pair, and that he wasn’t able to talk them out of the stupid hat he wears; its large brim has been doing good work to keep the sun off his face and neck.

Leaving the horse’s body behind him, Five starts on his way. If he was paying proper attention (he’s always paying proper attention), the horse got him a good seventeen miles before it kicked it. That leaves him with fourteen to go on foot. Not terrible. If he wasn’t getting such a late start, he could do that in a day. As it is, he’ll probably only be able to get six or so done before he’ll have to make camp.

So, he’ll get there tomorrow. Around noon. If he’s lucky, one Emilia Bragshot will be in town doing her shopping. If he’s not, it’s only another couple miles to her farm. Done by late afternoon and back to the Commission in time for dinner.

Not bad.

In the meantime, he has a long way to walk and lots of time to fill with working on the math.

He’s getting close. He can feel it.

Maybe a few hours of walking is just what it needs.

#there is One Important Detail that I hope you all pick up on #re: what five is wearing #but this was fun sail #i dont write canon five as much these days with finishing up jt and i even more rarely write Old Five #tua #number five #five hargreeves #tua fic #the umbrella academy #cw animal death #ficlet

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balkanradfem · 2 years

Text

So, you might have noticed I haven't mentioned anything garden related for a long while – and that's because I couldn't care for my garden, ever since I got sick. Which was, 3 months ago. While I was okay enough to do some canning and to forage for things near my home, biking all the way to the garden and fixing it up, was out of my energy budget, and it got neglected.

As the chestnut season came, I became preoccupied with chestnut foraging. Me and the plant lady sell them together every year. I was scared that due to my fatigue and lack of immunity, I wouldn't be able to collect them this year, and the business would go down. However, after spending a few days in the forest, my immune system was back up (being around trees boosts your immunity!) and I've been able to forage during rain and cold, without getting sick once. At the same time, the plant lady found me another, additional job, and now I was working 3 jobs at once, which was overwhelming. I was constantly sporting a muscle ache, so bad I often couldn't sleep due to the pain. Working 3 jobs at once sucks!

My eating habits changed, I wasn't able to get to the garden to get my food, I even had to buy some food, like beans, peanut butter and chocolate. Then I was living on chestnut cakes for a delicious while. Mostly, I was making tortillas and eating them with whatever sauce I had around, because it's fast and tasty. I started getting hungry more, and eating more, which is excellent news for me! Been trying to regain weight ever since I lost it due to covid, I'm finally closer to my healthy self.

The chestnut business was fun; all of the food prices have risen up, and some people were selling the chestnuts at outrageously high prices. So the plant lady suggested we sell at the new price too, we'd earn more that way. I didn't like that. I despised the raise in food prices, especially the ones that were so obviously unnecessary, because the food wasn't even imported, it was stuff grown inside the country, and the prices have skyrocketed just because the sellers figured out they could use the desperate times to hoard more money. I asserted we're keeping the same price, because it's not like the chestnuts are better than last year, or harder to collect, they're same chestnuts, and they'll cost the same! I was so sure I was standing against the evils of capitalism and extorting my control over this one thing I could, in the world of evil and exploitation. But she said 'It's not like you're selling it to the poor people', and now I'm not sure if I did much. I do feel like everyone should get food at affordable prices, and that making things more expensive for the rich, makes these same things completely inaccessible to the poor. So, I stand my ground, if I can keep down the price of one thing, then I will do so.

And the business went great, and we sold 75kg of it, which is 14kg more than last year! All of the money will go to the savings to buy land.

One day I was missing eating vegetables so much; I was at the store and got tempted to buy a packet of vegetable soup. I was sure they're pretty cheap, they're just a bunch of vegetable powder and spices. I checked it out, and was flabbergasted by the price. I got offended, and wouldn't buy it. It costed three times more than I originally assumed it would.

That made me real mad, and I used that anger to bike to my garden, and to take a look at what was out there. I found it a big, decaying, rotting, weed-stricken mess. But, it wasn't without produce. Few tomatoes were still red and waiting to be picked, some peppers have survived. There was green beans, celery, parsley, carrots. I cut down some chives. I picked celery and parsley, dug out some carrots.

I didn't have any onions left, but I made an infusion from chives, as an onion replacement, and I cooked it with celery, parsley, carrots and some dried parsnip I had stored. I added in some tiny dumplings made out of flour, salt and water. When I started eating it, I almost wept. That was the best thing I had eaten in months. I couldn't believe such a simple meal was so good, my body reacted to it like a healing potion, like something we missed so severely it had to be worshiped and welcomed back with the highest of joy.

Two days later, I was biking to my garden again, just to pick up more cloves for another soup. And to plant some broccoli. Is what I thought. When I arrived, I spent 3 hours fixing the garden up, unplanned. I didn't even realize what I was undertaking until I was in the middle of it. Again, it felt like I was back home, back to something I didn't realize how much I missed. I knew it was bad, because during the time I was unable to care for my garden, I couldn't stand looking at other people's garden content. I had to quit learning new things, because the heartache of not being able to do it myself was too much. I hope I never get sick like that during the summer again.

I'm not regretting any of it, because the neglected garden has taught me a lot, and I'm grateful for the knowledge! You'll soon find out all about it.

#gardening #trouble with gardening #neglecting the garden #chestnut business #life update #about to make some gardening posts #:))))

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