#Nourish Store
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laxmiagro · 2 years ago
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How to buy Organic Chickpeas (Kabuli Chana) Online in India?
Chickpeas, also known as garbanzo beans or Kabuli chana, are a type of legume that is often eaten as a protein-rich food. They are native to the Middle East and have been cultivated for thousands of years. Chickpeas are high in fibre, protein, and other nutrients and can be eaten cooked or ground into flour. They are a popular ingredient in many dishes, including hummus, falafel, and curries. Chickpeas can be purchased dried or canned and are available in many supermarkets and grocery stores.
In recent years, many people have become aware of the benefits associated with consuming this staple food because they are rich sources of fibre, protein and vitamins like vitamin B1, vitamin B6, niacin and folate.
Chickpeas are one of the oldest cultivated legumes. Today, chickpeas are grown around the world for their high protein content and versatile cooking qualities.
Export of Chickpeas
There are many agricultural exporters that specialize in exporting chickpeas or Kabuli chana. Chickpeas are a popular food in many parts of the world, and as a result, there is a large global trade in this commodity. Some major exporters of chickpeas include India, Turkey, Australia, and Canada. These countries are among the largest producers of chickpeas in the world and have well-developed infrastructure and expertise in exporting agricultural products. In addition to these large exporters, there are also many smaller companies and organizations that specialize in exporting chickpeas to specific regions or markets. If you are looking to purchase chickpeas from an exporter, it is important to do your research and find a reputable and reliable supplier.
The chickpea is a legume indigenous to South Asia and widely cultivated worldwide. Chickpeas are grown as an annual crop in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and other countries in Asia. The export of this agri product has increased dramatically over the past few years because of its high protein content and low price compared to other dried pulses.
Best Export Companies of Chickpeas in India
India is one of the largest producers and exporters of chickpeas in the world. There are many agri products export companies in India that specialize in exporting chickpeas to a wide range of markets around the globe. Some of the best export companies of chickpeas in India include:
Adani Group: Adani is a leading Indian conglomerate that is involved in a wide range of industries, including agriculture. The company is a major exporter of chickpeas and other agricultural products.
Ruchi Soya Industries: Ruchi Soya is one of the largest agribusiness companies in India and a major exporter of chickpeas and other agricultural products.
NCL Industries: NCL is a leading Indian conglomerate with interests in a variety of sectors, including agriculture. The company is a major exporter of chickpeas and other agricultural products.
N.K. Proteins: N.K. Proteins is a leading Indian company specialising in producing and exporting chickpeas and other legumes.
Ample Exports: Ample Exports is a leading Indian export company that specializes in a wide range of agricultural products, including chickpeas.
Furthermore, if you want to buy chana online, there are several online stores in India that sell organic chickpeas at the best prices. Some options include:
Amazon India: Amazon India has a wide selection of organic chickpeas available for purchase online. Simply search for "organic chickpeas" on the website and browse through the available options.
Nourish Store: Nourish Store is an online grocery store that specializes in selling high-quality natural grocery products. From this online grocery store, you can get the best quality chickpeas loaded with vital nutrients.
Big Basket: Big Basket is another online grocery store that offers a wide selection of organic and natural products, including organic chickpeas.
Organic Shop: Organic Shop is an online store that specializes in selling organic products. They have a variety of organic chickpeas available for purchase.
To buy organic chickpeas online, you will need to have a payment method set up with the online store you choose, such as a credit or debit card, a digital wallet, etc. Simply add the organic chickpeas to your shopping cart and follow the prompts to complete the purchase.
Conclusion
Chickpeas are one of the best food ingredients you can use to make delicious and healthy dishes. They are high in protein and other nutrients and can be a healthy addition to your diet. They are also a good source of complex carbohydrates, which provide sustained energy, and are high in fibre, which can help to support digestive health. Chickpeas are also a good source of essential nutrients such as iron, potassium, and folate. There are many ways to include chickpeas in your diet. They can be eaten on their own as a snack or as part of a meal. Moreover, there are many E-commerce stores in India from which you can buy chickpeas online at the best prices.
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nourishstore · 2 years ago
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mumblelard · 10 months ago
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cairn triptych process sketch with leaking marker
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spiralcloudpassage · 3 months ago
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if you grew up with any (profitable) connection to even just Middle class family nevermind upper-middle or higher it is like. disgusting how yes unfortunately there is a difference in quality in many things that are name brand or designer. and while i'm never going to get, say, a $2k sweater because i'm not Insane even if i do one day make more than jack-shit an hour i also will flat out refuse to waste money on certain things that are dirt cheap because it's soooo fuckingggg exhaustiiiingggg getting caught in the cycle of replacement. that one comic about the boots is so ugly i used to buy a new pair of winter boots from walmart almost Yearly because snow or walking to work would just wear them the fuck out whereas the 2 pairs of dmartins i got during a sale have held out better through heavier use Already, will almost certainly last much much longer, AND the designer has a policy where they do free (i think, it used to be free) repairs if you pay for the shipping to send them in if they tear or wear through. i hate being poor i hate that being poor is even a thing i hate how everything about it is just meant to continue driving you further and further into the dirt.
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snowshinobi · 1 year ago
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starting a tradition of picking the weirdest bowl at the thrift store to eat pasta with. today's find:
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my previous Pasta Bowl, may she rest in peace:
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tomandgeriatric · 1 year ago
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I made healthy choices today and I'm feeling nourished. Everybody clap.
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i-am-married · 2 years ago
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HUMMUS PLATE
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the-adas · 2 months ago
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mmm nutrience
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oglegoggle · 11 months ago
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I love eating bone in chicken, I feel so feral when eating meat with my hands and gnawing around bones. Makes me feel aware of the life my meal once possessed, and I can chew up every morsel of edible meat off the bones in a sort of ritual of gratitude for this food. Very reminiscent of the fresh caught fish I was eating near daily when I lived in Wyoming, and the assorted game we ate all the time when I was a kid. I love eating meat. It makes my body feel so strong and nourished!
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astrxq · 4 months ago
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Amidst the Battle
jacaerys velaryon x healer!reader
words: 8k
notes: non-canon events! not following the show's timeline. warnings: kissing, talk of war and wounds (i think that's all) feedback is appreciated!!
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The acrid smell of smoke and blood hung heavy in the air as you made your way through the aftermath of the battle. Your eyes scanned the field, searching for survivors amidst the carnage. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the war-torn landscape, when you spotted him.
A young man, barely clinging to life, his curled hair matted with blood and dirt. You approached cautiously, your heart racing as you realized who he was – Jacaerys Velaryon, the dragon rider, prince, and heir to the throne of Rhaenyra.
You knelt beside him, your trained hands quickly assessing his injuries. Multiple lacerations, a deep gash across his abdomen, and what appeared to be a broken arm. His breathing was shallow, each inhale a struggle. Without immediate care, he wouldn’t survive the night.
“Hold on,” you whispered, though you were unsure if he could hear you. “I've got you.”
With a strength born of necessity, you managed to lift him onto your cart. Your cottage wasn't far, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that he would make it there alive. As you guided your horse along the bumpy path, your mind raced. Treating a Velaryon, especially one as prominent as Jacaerys, could have been seen as an act of treason depending on who emerged victorious in this war. But as you glanced back at his pale face, you knew you couldn't live with yourself if you left him to die.
The journey felt endless, but finally, your modest cottage came into view. With great effort, you managed to bring Jacaerys inside and lay him on your bed. You worked tirelessly through the night, cleaning his wounds, stitching gashes, and setting his broken arm. Your stores of herbs were nearly depleted by the time you finished, but as dawn broke, his breathing had steadied, and some color had returned to his face.
Exhausted, you slumped into a chair by the bedside. You allowed yourself a moment of rest, watching the rise and fall of his chest. In sleep, the hardness of battle faded from his features, revealing a young man not much older than yourself. With a wet cloth, you gently cleaned his face, wiping away the stains of dry blood and dirt from the battle.
As you continued to clean his face, you couldn't help but study his features more closely. His curled hair, now free from the grime of battle, fell in soft waves across your pillow. You noticed a small scar near his left eyebrow, wondering what tale it might tell. His strong jaw was softened in sleep, and you found yourself tracing the line of it with your eyes.
A sudden twitch of his hand startled you from your reverie. You held your breath, watching intently, but he didn't wake. Releasing a sigh, you realized how dangerous this situation truly was. Housing and healing the son of Rhaenyra Targaryen could have cost you your life if the wrong people found out.
Despite the dangers, you couldn't bring yourself to abandon Jacaerys to the impersonal care of a volunteer center. The prince's injuries were severe, and his condition delicate. Each day was a delicate dance of tending wounds, easing fevers, and ensuring he had enough nourishment to sustain his weakened body. The thought of him being at the mercy of soldiers or opportunistic enemies made your decision clear – his safety was worth the risk.
In the quiet moments between changing bandages and preparing meals, you wrestled with guilt and anxiety. Every noise outside your cottage, every unfamiliar visitor passing by, sent a jolt of fear through you. Would they discover him? Would someone recognize him?
You rarely left Jacaerys' side, tending to his wounds and watching for any signs of fever or infection. His condition remained precarious, teetering on the edge between life and death.
On the third day, as you were changing the dressing on his abdominal wound, Jacaerys stirred. His eyelids fluttered, and a low groan escaped his lips. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his eyes slowly opened, unfocused at first, then sharpening as they landed on you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could see the confusion in his eyes, followed quickly by a flash of fear and suspicion. His body tensed, and he tried to move away from you, only to grimace in pain at the sudden movement.
“Don't,” you said softly, holding up your hands to show you meant no harm. “You're badly injured. Any sudden movements could reopen your wounds.”
Jacaerys' eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and weak. “Where am I? Who are you?”
His voice, while weak, sounded accusing, almost too sharp for it to match his tired expression. He could feel his throat dry and raw, each word an effort to push out. You reached for a cup of water nearby, offering it to him cautiously.
“Here,” you said, your voice gentle. “You need to drink.”
Jacaerys eyed the cup suspiciously, his gaze flickering between it and your face. You could see the internal struggle playing out in his eyes - the desperate thirst warring with his ingrained mistrust.
“It's just water,” you assured him, taking a small sip yourself to prove it. “You've been unconscious for days. Your body needs hydration to heal.”
After a moment's hesitation, he nodded slightly. You carefully supported his head, helping him take small sips. As the cool water touched his lips, his eyes closed briefly in relief. When he'd had enough, you set the cup aside and settled back into your chair. Jacaerys watched your every move, his body still tense despite the obvious pain it caused him.
“You didn't answer my questions,” he said, his voice a little clearer now. He ignored the grumbling of his stomach, having gotten used to being hungry because of the war. 
You took a deep breath, considering your words carefully. The Prince's wariness was palpable, and you couldn't blame him given the circumstances.
“You're in my cottage,” you explained softly. “I found you on the battlefield three days ago, gravely wounded. I brought you here to treat your injuries.”
Jacaerys' eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in every line of his face. “And you just happened to stumble upon me? Why would you risk treating an enemy soldier?”
You met his gaze steadily. “I don't see enemies on the battlefield, my Prince. Only people in need of help. It's my duty to heal, regardless of allegiances.”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face at your use of his title, but it was quickly replaced by a guarded expression. “How do I know you're not holding me for ransom? Or waiting to turn me over to my enemies?”
You sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and understanding. “If that were my intention, I wouldn't have spent the last three days fighting to keep you alive. Your wounds were severe, my Prince. You very nearly died.”
He seemed to consider this, his eyes roaming over the bandages covering his body. A grimace of pain crossed his face as he shifted slightly. “And what do you expect in return for your... kindness?” he asked, the last word tinged with sarcasm.
“Nothing,” you replied simply. “Your recovery is payment enough.”
Jacaerys scoffed, wincing at the movement. “No one does anything for nothing in this world.”
You stood, moving to a small table where you'd prepared a simple broth. “Believe what you will, my Prince.”
He stayed silent, his eyes scanning your features. As you turned back to Jacaerys with the bowl of broth, you noticed his eyes following your every move. The suspicion in his gaze hadn't lessened, but there was a hint of something else now - perhaps curiosity, or simply the weariness of a man too exhausted to maintain his guard fully.
“You should eat,” you said, approaching the bed slowly. “Your body needs nourishment to heal.”
Jacaerys eyed the bowl warily. “And how do I know it's not poisoned?” he asked, his voice still rough.
You resisted the urge to sigh. Instead, you took a small sip of the broth yourself. “See? Not poisoned. Though I suppose if you're determined to believe the worst of me, you could argue I've built up an immunity.”
A flicker of something - maybe amusement? - passed across Jacaerys' face, but it was gone in an instant. He took the bowl from you with his good hand, careful not to let his fingers brush against yours. As you turned to take his glass, with the intention of getting him more water, you noticed him trying to push himself up into a sitting position. His face paled with the effort, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
“Please,” you said, setting the bowl aside and moving to help him. “Let me-”
“Don't touch me,” he snapped, his voice strained. “I can manage on my own.”
“But-”
Jacaerys ignored you, gritting his teeth as he finally managed to prop himself up against the headboard. He was breathing heavily from the exertion, his good hand pressed against his bandaged abdomen.
You waited patiently for him to recover, then offered the bowl of broth once more. This time, he took it with a curt nod, though his hand trembled slightly as he brought the spoon to his lips.
As he ate, you busied yourself around the small room, straightening things and gathering fresh bandages. You could feel his eyes on you, tracking your movements.
“What's your name?” he asked suddenly, breaking the tense silence.
You turned to face him, surprised by the question. “It's Y/n,” you replied.
Jacaerys nodded slightly, his face unreadable. “You will be compensated, once I am fully healed.”
You shook your head gently, a small smile playing on your lips. “That's not necessary, my Prince. As I said before, your recovery is payment enough.”
Jacaerys frowned, his brow furrowing. “I insist. I won't be indebted to anyone, especially not...” He trailed off, seemingly catching himself before saying something potentially offensive.
“Especially not a commoner?” you finished for him, your tone mild but with a hint of challenge. “Or perhaps you meant to say 'especially not someone who could be an enemy'?”
The prince had the grace to look slightly abashed, though he quickly masked it with a scowl. “You can't blame me for being cautious. These are dangerous times.”
You nodded, acknowledging his point. “Indeed they are. Which is why I hope you can understand my reluctance to accept payment. I have no desire to be seen as profiting from this war, regardless of which side emerges victorious.”
Jacaerys studied you for a long moment, his dark eyes searching your face. “You're either very noble or very foolish,” he said finally.
“Perhaps a bit of both,” you replied with a wry smile. “Now, if you've finished eating, I need to change your bandages again.”
As you gathered the necessary supplies, Jacaerys watched you warily. “You never answered my question about where we are,” he said.
You paused, “We're in a small village near the God's Eye,” you said finally. 
His jaw tightened, but he didn't press further. As you began to work on his bandages, he remained tense, flinching slightly at your touch despite your efforts to be gentle.
You could see him squirm from the corner of your eye as your hands removed the bandage that covered the gash on his abdomen, he moved his hand to the sheets, tightly clasping them as an attempt of relief at the pain.
As you carefully peeled away the bandage, Jacaerys inhaled sharply, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. You paused, looking up at him with concern.
“I'm sorry,” you said softly. “I know it hurts. I'll try to be as gentle as possible.”
Jacaerys clenched his jaw, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere above your head. “Just get on with it,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
You nodded, returning your attention to the wound. The gash was deep, running from just below his ribs to his hip. The stitches you'd placed held firm, but the skin around them was angry and red. You frowned, silently starting to clean it gently with a herb-infused solution, feeling Jacaerys flinch and hold back a pained grunt with each touch.
“How long might this take?” he broke the silence after you’d adjusted his posture on the bed to wrap the new bandage around his torso. 
“I am almost done, my Prince.”
“No, how long until I can fight again?”
You paused, your hands stilling on the bandage. Looking up at Jacaerys, you saw determination burning in his eyes, mixed with a hint of desperation. You took a deep breath, considering your words carefully.
“My Prince,” you began gently, “your injuries are severe. The gash on your abdomen alone will take weeks, if not months, to heal completely. And that's not considering your broken arm or the other lacerations.”
Jacaerys' face darkened, his good hand clenching into a fist. “Weeks? Months? I don't have that kind of time. The war-”
“Will still be there when you're healed,” you interrupted, your voice firm but kind. “Fighting in your current condition would be a death sentence, my Prince. You'd be more of a liability than an asset on the battlefield.”
His eyes flashed with anger, but you held his gaze steadily. After a moment, he looked away, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“You don't understand,” he said, his voice low and tense. He didn’t say anything else, lifting his arms so you could start to wrap the clean bandage. 
The silence that followed Jacaerys' words was heavy with unspoken thoughts and shared tension. His frustration was palpable, each breath he took a reminder of the pain he was in and the urgency he felt. As you continued to wrap the bandage around his torso, your fingers worked with practiced precision, yet you could feel the tight coil of tension in every muscle beneath your touch.
His skin was warm, the heat of fever not entirely gone, and as you wound the clean linen around his abdomen, you could see the fine lines of strain on his face, the way his jaw clenched against the discomfort. You tried to be as gentle as possible, but each movement seemed to draw a wince from him, a reminder of the toll the battle had taken.
“It’s not too tight, is it?” you asked, breaking the silence.
As you finished wrapping the bandage, Jacaerys gave a curt nod. “It's fine,” he said, his voice tight.
You could see the strain in his eyes, the way he held himself rigidly to avoid showing any sign of weakness. Gently, you helped him lean back against the pillows, ignoring his mumbled protests.
“You need to rest,” you said softly. “Your body has been through a tremendous ordeal.”
Jacaerys closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. When he opened them again, the anger had faded, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. “How am I supposed to rest when my family, my people, are out there fighting and dying?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart ached at the pain in his words. Carefully, you sat on the edge of the bed, making sure to give him space. “By remembering that you're no use to them dead,” you replied gently.
“I do not wish to rest,” he struggled to push himself onto a sitting position, trying to get his legs off of the bed. He let out a grunt and a small whine at the pain, immediately stopping to place his good hand over the newly placed bandage. 
“See?” you said, “You can’t even sit without hurting yourself.”
Jacaerys clenched his jaw, frustration evident in every line of his face. “I've endured worse,” he said through gritted teeth, but he made no further attempt to move.
You sighed softly, understanding his determination but worried about the toll it was taking on his body. You stood, settling yourself before him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “You need to rest.”
“I’ve been resting for days!” 
You gave him a look which made him shut his mouth. Before he could protest any further, you applied pressure on his shoulders, making his body follow suit to your moves, and you laid him back down on the bed. “I will get you more supper, my Prince.”
As you gently guided Jacaerys back onto the bed, you could feel the tension in his muscles, the reluctance in every inch of his body. His eyes, dark with frustration and pain, followed you as you moved away.
“I don't need more food,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I need to be out there, fighting alongside my family.”
You paused at the door, turning back to face him. The sight of him, pale and drawn against the pillows, made your heart ache. “My Prince,” you said softly, “I understand your desire to rejoin the fight. But right now, the best thing you can do for your family is to heal.”
Jacaerys let out a bitter laugh that turned into a wince of pain. As you busied yourself preparing the simple meal, you could hear Jacaerys shifting restlessly on the bed. His impatience was palpable, filling the small room with an almost tangible energy. When you returned with a steaming bowl and a chunk of crusty bread, you found him staring at the ceiling, his good hand clenched into a fist at his side.
Jacaerys allowed you to adjust the pillows behind him, wincing slightly as he leaned back. “I can feed myself,” he said quickly as you reached for the spoon.
You nodded, stepping back to give him space. “Of course, my Prince. Just... take it slowly. Your body is still healing.”
He shot you a look that was part irritation, part grudging acceptance. As he began to eat, you busied yourself tidying the room, keeping a watchful eye on him without being too obvious about it.
“Tell me about the war,” Jacaerys said suddenly, breaking the silence. “What news have you heard?”
You hesitated, unsure how much to share. “I... I don't know much, My Prince. We're quite isolated here, and news travels slowly.”
His eyes narrowed, sensing your reluctance. “But you must have heard something. Please, I need to know what's happening out there.”
Sighing softly, you perched on the edge of the bed. “The last I heard, the fighting had spread to the Riverlands. There were rumors of a great battle near Harrenhal, but I don't know the outcome.”
Jacaerys' face tightened, his spoon clattering against the bowl as his hand shook slightly. “What’s wrong?” you immediately asked. He shook his head.
Your hand quickly moved to his forehead, seeing that his fever had gone up since you last checked. Jacaerys' skin was warm to the touch, a worrying sign that the fever, which had seemed to abate, was now surging again. You frowned, your healer's instincts kicking in. He swatted your hand away weakly, but you persisted, feeling the heat radiating from him.
“You're burning up,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “I need to bring your fever down before it gets any worse.”
He sighed, relaxing onto the pillow, finally giving up trying to convince you to let him get up. You left the room to get herbal medicine and a wet towel, lowering yourself to the edge of the bed to place the cloth over his forehead. He shut his eyes at the contact. 
The cloth felt cool against Jacaerys' fevered skin, and he let out a slow, shaky breath as his eyes closed. You could see the tension gradually easing from his body, though his brow remained furrowed with discomfort.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, barely audible, his voice thick with weariness.
Without thinking, you reached out, placing your hand over his. Jacaerys looked down at your hand, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he took a deep breath, some of the tension leaving his body.
He swallowed the thick medicine, making a sour face before picking up his spoon again. As he resumed eating, you noticed a slight tremor in his hand, fatigue already setting in from the simple act of feeding himself. But you knew better than to offer help again, recognizing his need to maintain some sense of independence. Your hand was still in his, you tried not to pay much mind to it, he was wounded after all. 
You watched Jacaerys closely as he struggled to finish his meal, concern etching lines on your face. The renewed fever worried you, a sign that his body was still fighting hard against infection. As he set the spoon down, his hand shaking with the effort, you gently took the bowl from him.
“That's enough for now,” you said softly. “You need to rest.”
Jacaerys opened his mouth as if to protest, but then closed it, nodding weakly. The fight seemed to have gone out of him, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that tugged at your heart.
“I'm sorry,” he murmured, his eyes heavy-lidded. “I thought I was getting stronger.”
You shook your head, adjusting the cool cloth on his forehead. “Get some sleep.” His fingers tightened around yours, a small gesture of acknowledgment. You sat there in silence, holding his hand as his breathing gradually evened out into sleep. 
As dawn broke, you stirred from your uncomfortable position in the chair by Jacaerys' bedside. You hadn't meant to fall asleep there, but exhaustion had finally claimed you. Your hand was still entwined with his, and you gently extricated yourself, hoping not to wake him.
Jacaerys' face was peaceful in sleep, the lines of pain and worry smoothed away. His curls were tousled against the pillow, and you resisted the urge to brush them back from his forehead. Instead, you carefully checked his temperature, relieved to find the fever had broken during the night. 
Jacaerys stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake. You noticed the lines of tension easing from his face, his breathing steady and deep. It was a small victory, but in times of war, even the smallest victories mattered.
Leaving the room quietly, you headed to the small kitchen area to prepare breakfast. You moved with practiced ease, gathering the few ingredients you had. The war had made supplies scarce, and you’d been careful to ration what little you had left. 
When you returned with a simple meal of bread, cheese, and a few herbs, Jacaerys was awake, propped up against the pillows, looking slightly less tense than the night before. His eyes followed you as you set the food down on a small table beside the bed.
“Good morrow,” he mumbled, reaching for the bread like a starved man. 
You offered him a small smile, relieved to see him awake and seemingly better. “Good morrow, my Prince. How are you feeling?”
Jacaerys didn't answer immediately, instead taking a small bite of the bread and chewing thoughtfully. “Better,” he finally admitted, though his voice was still hoarse and weak. “Thank you.”
You nodded, pouring him a cup of water and placing it within easy reach. “You're welcome. Your fever broke during the night, which is a good sign.”
He grunted in response, focusing on finishing the bread. After a few moments of silence, during which you busied yourself tidying up, he spoke again.
“Do you live by yourself?”
“Yes, my Prince.” you nodded.
He furrowed his brows, making a face and stopping his chewing to shake his head. “Enough with the formalities, you’re not my servant,” he took a sip of the water, “Simply call me by my name.”
“Jacaerys,” you said softly, testing the name on your tongue. It felt strange yet oddly comforting to address him so casually. “And yes, I live alone here.”
He nodded slightly, seeming to relax marginally at the use of his name. “Why did you become such a good healer?” he asked after a moment, his voice still rough but curious.
You considered his question, moving to sit on the edge of the bed opposite him. “I suppose it was a calling of sorts,” you began, your gaze thoughtful. “I grew up in a small village not far from here. My mother was a healer herself, and she taught me everything she knew.”
Jacaerys listened quietly, his eyes fixed on your face. As you gazed at each other, something shifted in the air between you. Jacaerys' eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again. 
There was a vulnerability in his eyes that belied the prince he was supposed to be, a young man laid low by wounds and circumstance. You found yourself drawn to him in a way that surprised you, a healer's compassion mixing with something deeper, something unbidden.
“My mother always believed healing was a gift,” you continued, breaking the silence that had settled between you. “She taught me that every life saved was a victory against darkness and despair.”
Jacaerys nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “And you chose to follow in her footsteps,” he murmured, more a statement than a question.
“No... I-,” you replied softly. “I am simply a commoner,”
“You’re not spoken for?”
The question took you by surprise, it must’ve shown on your face by the way Jacaerys scurried to clarify. “I was just curious-”
“I... no, I’m not,” you replied, caught off guard by his sudden inquiry.
Jacaerys hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. “It’s just... unusual, for someone like you,” he said carefully.
“Someone like me?”
He seemed to panic for a second, eyes widening for a beat before he cleared his throat, “I mean, you’re very kind.” he clarified, though his gaze remained steady on yours. 
You felt a slight flush rise to your cheeks at Jacaerys' words. The idea of being courted had always felt distant and almost foreign to you. Life in a small village near the God's Eye had been quiet and isolated, focused on survival rather than romance or social niceties. Most of the men you knew had gone off to fight in the war, leaving little time or opportunity for such things.
“I... thank you,” you managed to reply, your voice a touch quieter than before. 
As he finished the last of the bread, Jacaerys set the plate aside, his fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the table. His eyes, still heavy with fatigue but clearer than they had been in days, studied you with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite identify.
“Tell me more about yourself,” he said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between you. “How did you come to live here, alone?”
You hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden interest. “It's not a very exciting tale, I'm afraid,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “After my mother passed, I inherited this cottage. It's been my home ever since.”
Jacaerys nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “I am sorry, she sounds like a very kind woman,”
“It’s alright, it was years ago.” you paused, his chest heaved, lost in thought he bit the inside of his lip. 
“I’m sorry about your brother.”
He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he smiled. It was a small thing, just a slight upturn of his lips, but it transformed his face, softening the hard lines of battle and pain. “Thank you.”
Over the next few weeks, as Jacaerys' strength slowly returned, you fell into a comfortable routine. You would bring him meals, change his bandages, and help him with gentle exercises to regain his mobility. And in between these tasks, you talked.
Jacaerys, you discovered, was insatiably curious. He asked you about your life, your work, your thoughts on everything from the changing seasons to the intricacies of herbal remedies. At first, you were hesitant, unused to someone taking such an interest in your opinions. But gradually, you found yourself opening up, sharing stories of your childhood, your mother's teachings, the quiet joys and sorrows of your solitary life.
In turn, Jacaerys spoke of his own experiences, though he was careful to avoid mentioning anything too specific about the ongoing war. He told you of his love for flying, the exhilaration of soaring through the clouds on dragonback. He described the beauty of Driftmark, his family's ancestral home, with its shimmering waters and grand halls.
As the days passed, you found yourself looking forward to these conversations more and more. There was something about Jacaerys that put you at ease, despite his royal status. His quick wit and genuine interest in your thoughts made you feel seen in a way you never had before.
His arm had healed, the gash on his stomach still required careful tending, but it was gradually mending.
One day, as you were tending to the herb garden outside your cottage, you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. Turning, you saw Jacaerys standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on a makeshift cane you had fashioned for him so it wouldn’t hurt to walk. He looked stronger, more resolute, though still pale and somewhat fragile.
“You're up,” you said, a hint of surprise in your voice. “I didn't hear you come out.”
Jacaerys offered a small smile, his gaze sweeping over the garden. “I didn't want to disturb you,” he replied. “You looked... peaceful. I thought you might need some company,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been in days.
You smiled warmly, gesturing for him to join you. “I could always use an extra pair of hands,” 
He nodded, making his way slowly to where you were kneeling among the herbs. He grunted as he joined your position, hand cradling his bandage in discomfort, “What shall I do?”
As Jacaerys settled beside you in the herb garden, you couldn't help but notice how different he looked in the soft afternoon light. The sun caught in his curls, giving them a golden sheen, and his eyes seemed brighter, more alive than you'd seen them since he first woke in your cottage.
“Here,” you said, handing him a small trowel. “We need to thin out these chamomile plants. They're growing too close together.”
Jacaerys took the tool, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. You felt a small jolt at the contact, but quickly pushed the feeling aside.
“Like this?” he asked, carefully digging around one of the smaller plants.
You nodded, watching as he worked. His movements were slow and a bit clumsy, but he approached the task with the same determination you'd seen in his eyes when he spoke of returning to battle.
“You're a natural,” you said, offering an encouraging smile. “I imagine it's quite different from wielding a sword or riding a dragon.”
Jacaerys chuckled softly, the sound warming something deep inside you. “Indeed it is,” he replied.
You worked in silence for a while, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. Every so often, you'd steal a glance at Jacaerys, marveling at how at ease he seemed in this simple task.
“Tell me,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, hands threading the weeds as he stole glances at your own hands to mirror your movements. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
The question caught you off guard. You'd never really thought about leaving your small corner of the world before. You hummed, “I... I'm not sure,” you admitted. “I've never been far from here.”
Jacaerys looked up from his work, his eyes meeting yours. “Surely you must have dreamed of other places?”
You considered for a moment, your hands continuing to work almost of their own accord. “I suppose... I've always been curious about Oldtown,” you said finally. “The Citadel, with all its knowledge and learning. It must be amazing.”
Jacaerys nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It is,” he said softly. “The libraries there are unlike anything you've ever seen. Shelves upon shelves of books, stretching as far as the eye can see.”
“You've been there?” you asked, unable to keep the awe from your voice.
He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Once, when I was younger. Before...” he trailed off, his gaze turning distant.
You understood. Before the war, before the weight of his responsibilities had fully settled on his shoulders.
“Perhaps...” Jacaerys began, then hesitated. “Perhaps when this is all over, you could see it for yourself.”
Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The idea was so foreign, so impossible, and yet... the way he said it made it seem almost within reach. The thought of Jacaerys showing you around Oldtown, of exploring those vast libraries together, sent a thrill through you that you couldn't quite ignore.
“I... I would like that,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and something else you couldn't quite define.
Jacaerys smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. “Good,” he said, his voice tinged with warmth. “It's a promise, then.”
Jacaerys' eyes met yours again, and for a moment, you felt as if you were teetering on the edge of something vast and unknowable. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken possibilities.
But then Jacaerys winced, his hand going to his side where you knew his wound still pained him. The moment shattered, reality rushing back in.
“We should get you back inside,” you said, your healer's instincts taking over. “You've been out here too long.”
Jacaerys nodded, allowing you to help him to his feet with a pained sound from his throat. As you made your way back to the cottage, his arm around your shoulders for support, you couldn't shake the feeling that, even though he was still in pain as of now, he’d eventually have to leave for war again.
Your thoughts raced as you helped Jacaerys back inside the cottage, his weight leaning heavily on you despite his efforts to remain upright after having strained himself into a bad position for his wounds. The image of him in pain, yet determined to return to the battlefield, haunted you. You knew his wounds were healing, but not fast enough for him, not when his heart and mind were still with his family and the war effort.
Inside, you guided him back to the bed, where he eased himself down with a grunt of pain. His face was drawn, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he settled against the pillows.
“You shouldn't have pushed yourself,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern as you adjusted the pillows behind him.
Jacaerys spoke, his voice strained. “I can't just stay idle while others fight and die.”
You sighed, sitting beside him on the bed. “I understand your need to fight, Jacaerys. But you're not yet strong enough. Rushing back into battle could do more harm than good.”
His eyes searched for yours, frustration and determination warring within them. “But every day that passes, I feel more useless,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You're not useless,” you countered gently, your hand reaching out to grasp his. 
Jacaerys sighed heavily, his fingers tightening around yours. 
For a long moment, Jacaerys was silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point. The tension in his body slowly eased, his fingers relaxing slightly around yours. “I don't want to be weak,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself.
“You're not weak, Jacaerys,” you said firmly, meeting his eyes. “You're healing,” you continued softly, squeezing his hand gently. “It takes time. And taking the time you need now will make you stronger in the long run.”
Jacaerys looked down at your intertwined hands, his expression conflicted. “I've always been taught that strength is in action, not in rest,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.
“Strength is also in knowing when to rest,” you replied gently.
As Jacaerys looked up at you, his eyes softened. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out with his free hand to gently cup your cheek. Letting out a sound that sounded almost like a plea, he pulled your face down to meet his. 
The first brush of his lips sent a shiver through you, a gentle exploration that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions. Jacaerys' lips were warm and soft, molding against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own. His fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer, as if afraid to let go of this fragile moment.
You responded instinctively, leaning into him, your hand finding its place against his chest. Beneath your touch, you felt the steady beat of his heart, strong and steady, echoing the rhythm of your own pulse. The scent of earth and herbs mingled with the subtle fragrance of his skin, creating a heady mix that enveloped you both.
He furrowed his brows, trying to focus on the kiss and not his inexperience. He’d spent most of his teen years fighting in wars, after all. 
His lips moved tentatively against yours, a mixture of desire and uncertainty evident in his touch. His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin as if trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.
His touch is tender, and his kiss carries a mix of uncertainty and desire. You can feel his heartbeat beneath your hand. Perhaps he's been so focused on duty and honor that he's only now allowing himself to explore softer, more vulnerable emotions. He kisses you as if it’s the last thing he will ever do, not hungry enough to be lust but soft enough for your mind to swirl with possibilities of why your heart feels fluttery in your chest. 
But then, as Jacaerys shifted his position ever so slightly, a sharp intake of breath escaped him. His hand instinctively moved from your cheek to clutch at his side, where the lingering pain from his wound had suddenly flared up.
You pulled back immediately, concern etched on your face. “Are you alright?” Your voice carried a mixture of worry and compassion.
He winced, his features tense with pain. “It's nothing,” he managed through gritted teeth, trying to reassure you even as he struggled to catch his breath. 
“I just... I wanted...” Jacaerys's voice trailed off, frustration evident in his eyes as he looked away, unable to finish his thought.
You gently placed your hand on Jacaerys's shoulder, silently urging him to rest against the pillows. His brow furrowed with pain as he settled back, his breathing still labored. The moment of intimacy between you both had faded into the background, replaced by the urgent need to tend to his worsening pain.
“It's alright,” you assured him softly, your fingers brushing lightly over his forehead. “Just breathe. Let the pain pass.”
Jacaerys closed his eyes briefly, focusing on regulating his breath. You followed the usual routine, giving him pain-killing medicine, stepping out of the room while he changed into your old father’s clothes, and continuing to provide the healing and care he needed in the following days. The conversation about the kiss was long gone.
As the days passed, Jacaerys continued to heal under your careful attention. The gash on his stomach gradually closed, leaving behind a thin scar that was appearing. His arm, once injured and immobile, regained strength. He was practically healed.
As Jacaerys's physical condition improved, a palpable tension grew between you both. The memory of that tender kiss lingered, unspoken but ever-present in the air. You found yourself stealing glances at him when you thought he wasn't looking, your heart fluttering at the sight of his tousled curls or the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he read one of your few books.
Jacaerys, too, seemed more aware of your presence. His eyes would follow you as you moved about the cottage, and his hand would often linger a moment too long when you passed him things. Yet neither of you spoke of what had happened, as if addressing it might somehow break the fragile peace you had found.
One morning, you awoke to find Jacaerys standing by the window, his posture tense and alert. He ran his hands through his hair in stress, wearing the same clothes you found him in the day you took him into your care. Your heart sank as you realized what this meant.
“Jacaerys?” you said softly, approaching him.
He turned to face you, his expression a mix of determination and regret. “Y/n,” he began, his voice low and serious. “I must return to the war.”
A part of you had anticipated this moment would come, but you dreaded it. You had known from the beginning that Jacaerys was not just any injured soldier seeking refuge – he was a prince, with responsibilities that extended far beyond the confines of your quiet garden.
You approached him slowly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Jacaerys, rushing back into battle–”
He cut you off gently, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and resolve. “I need to do this,” he said firmly. “They need to know that I haven't abandoned them.”
You sighed softly, “I understand,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 
Jacaerys's expression softened, his hand coming up to your chin. His eyes scanning your face for a few seconds, trying to memorize every freckle, every detail he possibly could before he left again. 
For a moment, you both stood there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you. Then, with a sudden urgency, Jacaerys leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, his eyes fluttering closed as his lips met yours. The kiss was urgent, passionate, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had built up between you. His lips were warm and soft against yours, moving with a newfound confidence and intensity.
One of his hands cupped your face gently, his thumb caressing your cheek, while the other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart echoing your own racing pulse.
The kiss deepened, Jacaerys tilting his head slightly to better capture your lips. There was a hint of desperation in the way he kissed you, as if he was trying to memorize every sensation, every taste, every feeling. His tongue gently traced your bottom lip, seeking permission, which you granted with a soft sigh.
As the kiss intensified, you found your hands moving of their own accord - one threading through his soft curls, the other gripping the fabric of his shirt at his chest. The scent of him enveloped you - a mixture of herbs from your garden, the earthiness of the forest, and something uniquely Jacaerys.
Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss. It was bittersweet, filled with the joy of finally giving in to your feelings, but tinged with the sadness of knowing it might be a goodbye. Jacaerys kissed you as if it was both the first and last time, pouring every ounce of his gratitude, affection, and regret into this one moment.
When you finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Jacaerys rested his forehead against yours. Silently, he moved his hands to your wrist, gently untying one of your bracelets and nudging your fingers with his. He held the bracelet in his hand for a moment, running his thumb over the woven threads.
“May I keep this?” he asked softly, his eyes meeting yours.
You nodded, unable to find words as emotion welled up in your throat. Jacaerys carefully tucked the bracelet into a pocket, as if it were a precious treasure. 
He grasped your face in his hands again, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. Lingering, he moved down to your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth. He kissed every inch of your face, his eyes furrowed close as if he was trying to forget where he was going – if he was ever going to see you again. Finally, he reached your mouth again, giving you a slow kiss.
Jacaerys stepped back. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as if preparing to face the world beyond your cottage. Unable to trust your voice to respond, you reached out and gently squeezed his hand, conveying your own gratitude and a silent farewell.
With a final, lingering look, Jacaerys turned away and made his way out of the cottage, his steps steadier than they had been in weeks. You watched him go, feeling a mix of pride and sadness as he disappeared from view. Alone once more in the quiet of your cottage, you leaned against the doorframe, your heart heavy with the weight of his absence. The memory of his touch lingered on your skin, his kiss still warm against your lips.
Months passed in a blur of uncertainty and waiting. As the war waged on, your heart remained tethered to Jacaerys, hoping and praying for his safety. You tended to your garden with a quiet determination, finding solace in the familiar rhythms of nature amid the turmoil beyond your cottage walls. Everytime a new black soldier came for aid at the care center, you’d sneakily ask about the war, for news, for numbers of wounded and dead – anything you could grasp onto.
News of the war's eventual end arrived like a bittersweet whisper, bringing relief mingled with sorrow for the lives lost. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, as you continued your solitary existence, never quite giving up hope that one day Jacaerys might return.
Then, on a crisp morning that carried the promise of autumn, a knock echoed through your cottage. Startled, you set down your gardening tools and hurried to the door. When you opened it, your breath caught in your throat.
There stood Jacaerys, his once-pristine armor now battered and bloodied, a testament to the trials he had faced. His hair was unkempt, his face lined with weariness, but his eyes held a familiar spark of determination and relief as they met yours.
“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice hoarse but filled with emotion.
A rush of emotions flooded through you – joy, disbelief, and an overwhelming sense of relief that he had returned to you. Without a word, you threw your arms around him, holding him close as if afraid he might vanish again.
Jacaerys held you just as tightly, his arms wrapping around you as if seeking reassurance that you were real. “I'm here,” he murmured against your hair, his voice thick with exhaustion and gratitude.
Together, you stepped inside the cottage, the weight of the past months hanging in the air but overshadowed by the sheer relief of being reunited. Jacaerys sank into a chair, and you fetched a basin of water and a cloth to tend to his wounds. As you cleaned the blood and grime from his face and hands, your touch was gentle, conveying a silent understanding of all he had endured.
Once cleaned up, Jacaerys looked around the familiar surroundings of your cottage, a sense of peace settling over him. “It feels like a lifetime since I was last here,” he admitted softly, his eyes meeting yours.
You nodded, sitting beside him and taking his hand in yours. Your instinct made your hands  immediately go to his forearm, a cut that was no longer bleeding on it, tenderly tracing over the healed wound, feeling the scar that marked him.
“I'm glad you're back,” you murmured, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and lingering concern. He took your hand in his, his eyes searching yours with earnest intensity. 
“I want to stay,” he said quietly, his voice steady yet filled with vulnerability. “Here, with you.”
You squeezed his shoulder, a grin plastered on your face as he mirrored your movements. 
“Let me tend to your wounds,” you said softly, guiding him to sit by the hearth where you had once helped him find refuge. Jacaerys lowered himself gratefully, wincing slightly as he settled, his armor clinking softly with the movement. The air was thick with unspoken emotions, a delicate balance of relief and the weight of their shared experiences.
You fetched fresh water and clean cloths, moving with practiced care as you began to clean the grime and blood from his face and hands. Each gentle touch spoke of the months apart, of your worry and hope intertwined. 
Jacaerys watched you silently, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude, much like the first time you had tended to him.
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bsecco · 1 year ago
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switching my cats wet food yet again because if i open up One More box of rancid cat food or find, God help me, maggots, I will fucking lose it
And the thing is!!! It's 1000% on Sheba!! There's dozens of reviews online about spoiled food and bug problems!!!! not only do their packages leak but they're hard as hell to open up
pepper is not the issue here because she is a sentient trash compactor but Jo is incredibly fussy and picky and also can't eat chicken/turkey or corn or wheat without getting itchy and having gut issues. but she also doesn't like fish except for salmon. and she doesn't like pate or reheated wet food lol. but she ALSO doesn't like any of the many varieties of allergen conscious cat food I've tried her on!!!!!!! so she may just get to be an itchy girl for a while
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cordylobia · 1 year ago
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planning tomorrow like I won't eat breakfast and then spend the whole day 'letting it settle'
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girlwtdragontattoo · 2 months ago
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Yandere elf x reader - Love Making
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Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Go follow her and love her 🫶(pushes all of you to her blog)
I am out of ideas, y‘all. I am so happy you guys love my dumb smut lol 🩷 really thank you! Idk if I‘ll do any more, unless specifically asked. Also, if meru is ok with it ✨
Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, oral !
—————
He smothered you with his length.
You got brief respite when he exited, gasping in short bursts.
Silas was caressing your face with both of his hands, holding you in place. His soft thumb pressed lightly into your cheek.
„Good, good~“, he cooed breathily.
In his mind, he was just giving you your nourishment. He didn‘t fully understand why the milking made him feel so lightheaded, why he longed to do it over and over again. But mothers wrote in the baby books that it is a precious bonding ritual, one they never experienced before.
And surely, this was a feeling he hadn‘t experienced before.
Silas let his darling suck his teats every day, but because he was an elf, his milk was stored elsewhere. Of course!
He had a collection of instructional manuals he had consulted (Romance Novels) and they referred to this act as „love making“. What a beautiful term! Silas felt giddy whenever he thought about it. That‘s definitely what the situation in the spring was, too - it all makes sense now!
Letting out a few breathy moans, he felt you lick his tip, as he thrust gently forward. He had prepared you again, giving you long and deep kisses to fully drench you with his aphrodisiac tongue. It was impossible to stop yourself. The way his kisses made you forget yourself, wanting him. You knew now how hard you could come with him just in you. It was annoying to admit, but you wanted more.
You looked up at him and a flush of purple filled his ethereal face.
„K-keep drinking, my precious…“, he huffed. He was holding himself, pointing it at your open lips.
You let your tongue fall out. You could see him gasp inaudibly from arousal at the sight of you. It was kind of fun to tease him. He looked beside himself, whenever he was close.
Your tongue brushed his tip again and he shivered. He was gently holding the back of your head, his fingers laced within your messed up hair. You could feel him push you forward softly.
Without warning you swallowed him as much as you could. Silas yelped at the feeling of you jerking your head forward vigorously. The sounds he made were so pitiful. You couldn’t get that much of him in your throat, but the mere velocity and sudden depth made the elf convulse and shake uncontrollably. He was trying to hold back, but it was futile.
He exploded with a guttural squeal. You felt his seed plummet into your throat and you quickly released your mouth to avoid choking. More overflowed onto your face, the most of it was dripping out of the sides of your mouth though. You swallowed harshly at the load.
Silas was immobile, his arms twitching by his massive side. He didn‘t speak for a while either, so you just sat there in silence with faint sounds of dripping.
Finally, Silas sat up with a flushed face. Dried tears stained his cheeks as his lip quivered.
„Darling… y-you were hungry, weren‘t you?“ he was trying to talk in his melodic voice, but you had taken his ability to be graceful.
You brushed some semen off your chin and stared at him.
„Oh, let me!“, he grabbed a beautiful doily he had been embroidering with donkeys and cows on it. He read babies like barn animals.
He wiped your face clean.
„There! All clean,“ he beamed down at you. Still feeling a bit sticky, you asked if you could go wash your face. He clapped his hands frantically, proud of you, for whatever reason.
Silas‘s semen didn‘t smell like normal cum. It had a strange, soothing scent to it. You stood over the basin and sniffed your hand a few times. What was in his damn bloodstream that made everything about him smell so fucking divine?
In the background, you heard Silas practice some lullaby, poorly.
Evidently, it was time for bed.
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bunny584 · 10 months ago
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OBSESSED: NANAMI
A/N: So sorry this is getting reposted. Tumblr got glitch-y and it went away. Hopefully the second read around is just as enjoyable!!
C/W: Breeding, Mature. 18+
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“You’d make such a beautiful mother.”
Nanami comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist. He travels up your torso to cup your tender, swollen mounds spilling over his favorite tank top.
“Ken,” you whine and wince back into him.
You’re so focused on chopping vegetables, you let him grope you. No use fighting it. If you slapped his hands away they’d be back in less than a second. Magnets to your perfect frame.
You’re ovulating.
He knows it like clock work.
You become docile. With puffy, tender breasts. And so emotional. Tears flow at a harsh breeze, much less anything else. Forgetful. Flustered. You hang off of him like perfectly cooked Lamb off a bone.
You’re ovulating. His cock is hard nearly 24 hours a day when you’re supple like this.
“Oh goddamit,” the knife comes down, loud and shrill on the marble island.
Nanami bites back a grin, he knows whatever it is is inconsequential.
“What is it, my love?” His hands trail down to your stomach. Cock beating against his thigh thinking about how pretty it’ll look swollen with his seed.
You dive your face into your hands. Crystal tears flowing from your eyes through the slim spaces of your elegant fingers. Sparkling against the Diamond engagement ring. He pulls you in tighter, unashamed of his erection now digging into your back.
“I-I forgot, I forgot the stupid basil at the store and now dinner is ruined.” More sobs. You melt back into his arms. Absolutely devastated.
“Ahhh, yes. So ruined.” His gentle teasing opens the flood gates.
The Pacific Ocean flows out of you and he’s even more fond. More turned on.
“Ken!” You scold him, turn around and dive into the crook of his neck. All in one fair motion.
“I was trying to be a good fiancé. I wanted to make this perfect. And I can’t even I can’t —“
“Shhh.” Nanami lifts you onto him. You wrap your legs around his waist. Drenching his work shirt in diamond tears.
His back hits the couch, and you’ve calmed to just baby sniffles with his constant rubbing.
“Let me take care of it.” He rasps out. Not even trying to hide his strain. You nod and bring the back of your hand to your puffy eyes.
And this is why he wants to fill you with his cum. Keep you pregnant. Soft, open. Tender hearted. Your kids would be born from the purest love.
It’s a daydream that exists on cinematic repeat in his mind. How he could change the shape of your beautiful body. Round your hips. Swell your feminine torso. Fill your breasts with nourishment for the little one you create together. It makes his cock leak and twitch and lead pipe hard. At work. At the gym. While eating. When you’re like this. Like this. He feels like an animal. Insatiable. You bring out the most primal parts of him. To provide. Protect.
Procreate.
He dreams about you staying at home, nurturing your little family. Coming home to you nourishing the baby with your gorgeous, plump…
God.
He’d drop his pants and push his cock past your pretty lips at the same time. Feed you while you’re feeding the love child he put in you.
Your sugary, soft gasp tethers him to reality. Eyes fixed on his restrained dick, begging for release.
“Kento, you’re so…” your dulcet voice trails off and you palm his length through his pants.
Nanami hisses. Unashamed of the growing stain of his precum seeping through his khaki work slacks. Not the first time.
“Let me make you a mother, baby.” His voice grazes the shell of your ear and you shudder into him.
“Ken.”
So “stern” but you keep petting his dick in the way that drives him insane. “We can’t because I think I—“
“You’re ovulating.” He finishes your thought with a buck of his hips into your hand. Greedy for more touch. More warmth.
Fine, fine. You’ve already compromised with him to stop taking the birth control and track naturally. He won’t push it. Watching how your hormones ebb and flow within your body is a privilege, so he won’t push.
For now.
“Let’s get takeout, baby.”
(PART II)
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motheyes · 2 years ago
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discovering the bounty of lentils
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luckystorein22 · 2 years ago
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