#The Double Distiller

[abwatt]

Sun in Scorpio II - Leto (1 Nov - 10 Nov)

The Sun enters Scorpio II, The Alchemical Apparatus, on 1 November 2024 this year, at 6:38 pm EDT. The Sun will pass through this decan in 9 days, 22 hours, 9 minutes, arriving at 20° Scorpio on 11 November 2024 at 4:47 pm EST. It’s worth remembering that this is one of the two decans each year that includes Daylight Saving Time trickery, with clocks turning back one hour (in each time zone that…

[sentfromwolves]

"I want to write!!" lays on the floor and rots for eight hours instead

[butterbourbonandothersins]

Sagamore Spirit Rye Whiskey

When the founders of the distillery began their whiskey-making journey, they weren't just interested in creating a product; they wanted to resurrect Maryland's whiskey heritage, and they did.

Sagamore Spirit Rye Whiskey’s subtle fruitiness makes it a sippable, easy-to-enjoy rye whiskey. Image Credit: https://www.instagram.com/p/CqOc64IOiO3/ Sagamore Spirit Rye Whiskey is a relatively new entrant in the world of American whiskey. Produced by Sagamore Spirit, a Baltimore-based distillery, Sagamore Spirit Rye has quickly made a name for itself with its smooth taste and high quality. A…

[zhnnveuxpasdrmir]

I've never stopped hating this movie for trying to draw equivalence between classes, and for casually excluding any possible examination of race, and for the dance sequence

all of his movies were like that but this is the one that did the most cultural damage to people my age

The Breakfast Club (1985) dir. John Hughes

[bourbontrend]

Discover the magic of Blood Oath Pact 10 Kentucky Straight Bourbon. Celebrating a decade of excellence with a special double finish in Cabernet Franc and Merlot casks. Limited edition release, handcrafted quality from Lux Row Distillers. Don't miss out on this unique bourbon experience! #BourbonLovers #BloodOathPact10 #BourbonTrend

[gemharvest]

Trying so hard to not get pissed off cuz I know I'm just in a bad headspace right now. So close to losing.

[juniperberries-canisroot]

'Entering my violent era' Isay to myself as I put my weapons and spells away, put up my claws and walk up to a merchant who carries enchanted shit

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

wow haha you* think this large area of land is uninhabitable and empty ? wow thats so funny that sounds so much like this fucked up terra nullius thing but surely you arent all mindlessly peddling that colonial narrative of australian land as uninhabited and therefore free for the taking, right ? that would be silly.

and its not like there's a common law doctrine that was only legally discredited in the last 30 years that literally refers to "desert and uncultivated" land as a justification for taking land that is inhabited but is deemed to not have "settled" inhabitants or "settled law" according to colonial standards, right ?

because if there was then it would obviously be super fucking racist to continue to legitimise and perpetuate the erasure of indigenous presence by reaffirming the conception of large swathes of land as desert and uncultivated empty and uninhabitable.

and obviously it would be not only racist but factually incorrect to identify an area as "uninhabitable" purely on the basis that that it was deemed less compatible with colonialist + capitalist agricultural and settler projects and practices, (putting aside the fact that nonnegligible areas are, in fact, settled and used as such) because that would not only continue the erasure of a diverse array of indigenous ways of life, but would also continue to give legitimacy to the idea that presence on land must be identifiable by colonial signifiers thereof, otherwise it is not real and does not count. so obviously you would not do that, yeah ? good talk <3

*"you" as in the ppl in screenshots/ppl who are saying this shit, not op. Just to clarify.

[fanaticsnail]

Heartbeats

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,600+

Summary: You were friends first, only ever friends; until a night of drinking led to something more. After that one night, you decided to not speak on it and remain only as close friends; an outcome you both could respect as captain and crewmate. A small fluttered heartbeat complicates such an arrangement. 

Warnings: suggestive content but sfw, law x afab!reader, kisses, drinking, assumed unrequited love, drunkenness, pregnancy mentioned, unexpected pregnancy, feelings, emotions, angst, swearing, fluff. 

Notes: This was a little gift for mother’s day. I thought it might be fun to explore the concept of Law telling his friend they’re pregnant, but conflicted because he was the one to make them this way. Please read the warnings.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @mfreedomstuff @writingmysanity @carrotsunshine @gingernut1314 @daydreamer-in-training @indydonuts @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here

Penguin’s birthday was an event aboard the Polar Tang that was anticipated greatly by the crew. Streamers, balloons, cake and music were flowing as heavy as the waves crashing against the hull. Not a care in the world, you all showered the dark-haired, hat-wearing man with affection and praise for his life lapping one more loop around the sun. 

And then Shachi decided to bring out the kirschwasser. The double-distilled, cherry flavored liquor that nightmares were truly made of for Captain Trafalgar D Water-Law. It was not because of the scent, nor the taste, but it was the fact that it rendered him the most defenseless and vulnerable to spilling his emotions that he was sure he had repressed. 

When Law drank kirschwasser, he remembered his mother, his father, and his sister: memories he thought he had long since forgotten came oozing up his throat, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and a subtle glisten in his eyes. He scrunched his eyes tightly shut, gripping the glass firmly in his hand, and grinding his teeth in a tight clamp. 

When you took another shot of kirschwasser with Ikkaku, you placed down the glass with a smile on your face and a laugh on your tongue. Looking over towards your captain, you cocked your head to the side as you studied his body language. Drawing your eyes over his tense body, you excuse yourself from the rest of the crew to assess the damage he was attempting to suppress. 

Approaching him, you gently place your hand on his forearm and soften your tone to a low and soothing tone. It was one simple question, one soft and pointed ask, that had him softly fold his hand within yours and thump his forehead on your shoulder. 

“Law, are you okay?” was the only question that fell from your lips that had him curl himself against you in a soft embrace. His cup hung limply behind your back as he locked his wrists after releasing your hand. He buried himself further into your embrace, sighing deeply into your neck as you widened your eyes and drew your hands around his neck.

As friends, you and Law had shared the odd embrace from time to time in your weekly catch-ups. Bepo was usually the one that the crew sought out for more warm hugs; that mink-bear was the best for encumbering holds. This felt more intimate than any moment you had ever shared, the smooth kirschwasser releasing you of your inhibitions and giving into sharing this soft moment.

As the night dwelled on, Law never left your side. His hands were always on some part of you, ensuring you did not get too far from his reach to pull you in closer as the night went on. Once the party had reached its peak and began to dwindle into the evening, Law pulled you into the hallway adjacent to the door and pinned you to the wall. 

Lips sought out your flesh, whispers of promises and confessed desires being branded into your neck, cheeks, jaw, shoulders and chest with feverish kisses. “I need you,” he whispered, “I want you,” his hands caressed your hips and began to find the zipper of your boiler suit. 

“We said we wouldn’t,” you smiled, your own resolve being chipped away at the aid of the kirschwasser and Law’s lips trailing against your skin, “We’re friends, Captain.” He groaned against your skin, enjoying the way your hands traveled to his hair and massaged the nape of his neck. 

“Friends,” he mocked his confirmation with a soft growl in his tone, “But I need more.” He nipped and bit at your neck, prompting a small whimper to flee from your lips as you elevated your head to give him more access. You closed your eyes, biting your lip as Law’s body continued to ravish yours. You groaned in frustration at your prior agreement, shaking your head as you pulled his lips and teeth away from you. 

“Not in the hallway,” you warned him, having a moment of clarity. Your eyes darted between his, glancing down at his lips and back up. Law’s eyes darkened as he elevated his hand with his thumb, index and middle finger raised.

“Room,” he whispered, leaning in closer to you, and hovering his lips over yours. As he twisted his wrist, he murmured before his breath tickled at your parted mouth, “Shambles.”

A night of passion, littering each other with marks of claim over one another, had you both sharing the captain’s quarters for the night wrapped in each other’s arms. Blankets over your waists, gazing up at each other before you fell asleep, you felt a pitter in your heart as his amber eyes stared almost lovingly down at you. This intimate moment had you captivated, feeling his emotions and heart tangibly beat with yours.

In the morning, your heads panged with the residue of the cherry liquor. Groans of regret at drinking the quantity of kirschwasser along with other mixed drinks had the night before a distant, blissful, and foggy memory. Looking down at your bare flesh and over to your captain’s, you snapped up in shock. He cradled his head with a soft sigh, only now realizing that you were in the bed beside him as he twitched back in his own shock. Both of your eyes widened, looking between your bodies and snapping your eyes up to meet with one another’s surprised eyes. 

Rambunctious, lazy laughter fell easily from your lips, both clapping each other’s hands against each other’s shoulders and arms in friendly touches. You tugged the bedsheets away from your body and began collecting your uniform from the floor, shaking your head with a smile spread up to your cheeks.

“I’ll go get started on clean up from Penguin’s party, captain,” you suggested, pinching your brow and cradling your swirling and soupy mind, “Might stop off in your office and grab some ibuprofen and electrolytes if you’ll let me rustle through your desk?” He growled and pinched his own brow, his eyes tightly clenched shut and feeling the dizzy fog eclipse his senses. 

“Rustle away,” he whispered your name in a soft voice. As you hoisted your uniform over your hips, slotting your arms into the sleeves, he reached out for you with his hand, asking the question you had both avoided since opening your eyes, “Did you-...?” he squinted his tired eyes up at you, “Should we-...?” he choked out, shifting his blankets away from his lap and rising to his feet, “Do we need to talk about this?” 

You shook your head, reaching down and zipping up your boiler suit before rubbing your face. Smoothing your skin beneath your palms and nursing your forehead, you blow out an exasperated breath and turn back to him. 

“Let’s just not mention it, okay?” you smiled at him with a soft, tight-lipped smile, “Was a moment of weakness on both our parts.” Law nodded, trailing his eyes over you to assess your posture and stance as you added, “We’re friends, Law. I don’t think revisiting last night would be in either of our best interests.” 

Law nodded his head in response, waiting until you left his room with a soft 'click' for him to sink back onto his bed and experience the full brunt of the wind being shot out of his sails. He cradled his forehead in his hands, the inked digits raking through his hair as he dwelled on your words. ‘We’re friends, Law,’ shattered his heart into shards, his hope that you might reciprocate his affections for you being ruined with those three simple words. 

As days turned into weeks, you and Law continued on as you had always been: captain and crewmen, leader and subordinate, friend and friend. You would catch up afterhours, enjoy reading with one another and discussing ailments and woes with rapport with the crew. After Penguin’s birthday party, comradery was at an all-time high, and everybody noticed as much. 

Over the next few days, Trafalgar Law took the opportunity to do as he always does as the current wielder of the ‘Ope-Ope no mi’. He takes the small luxury of concentrating on the heartbeats of his crewmen to wordlessly check in with any irregularities with their bodies and breathing, enjoying knowing that his crew is all safe and accounted for. The crew was aware he did this, and it was something each of you appreciated greatly to avoid a formal physical examination every few weeks. As he floated his attention over to you, focussing on your body as you spoke with Bepo about approaching land, his breath was caught in his lungs.

Heartbeats.

Plural. 

He rose to his feet, his eyes wide and in shock as his lips fell open. Fear overcame him, looking down to your belly and back up to your chest. Teeth chattering, he wordlessly excused himself to the hallway and began counting with his fingers while clawing at his hair. 

“Penguins birthday,” he whispered to himself, looking down at his fingers, “Three days to travel internally up to-...” he shook his head, his hands beginning to shake, “...It’s been seven weeks since-...” he joined his other hand in his hair, raking his fingers over his raven locks. 

“...Fuck.”

After speaking with Bepo, you turn to walk towards the mess hall and begin getting yourself something to eat for lunch. You had been abnormally famished, feeling drawn to spices and sweets over salt and savories lately. Eyeing off a dark chocolate ganache tart with chili-flakes, your mouth began salivating at the thought. As you reached for it, you felt a hand on your shoulder and a whisper in your ear.

“My office,” Law ordered quietly, “Now.” You snapped your head over to him before looking back to the tart longingly. He groaned, relenting with a roll of his eyes, “Bring the tart.” You beam him a wolfy grin full of teeth and joy, a smile Law has begun to yearn for each time you joined him in his office as friends. You claim the tart in your hands and, with a pep in your step, you trot along behind him to his office. 

For the short walk from the mess hall to his office, he was formulating a long speech to not only ask you if you know, but alert you if you don’t; to inform you carefully of your pregnancy, while not seeming to be overager at the prospect of you both rearing a child. He came to terms with it from the moment he sensed that small flutter. He wanted this child, wanted to parent them with you, and wanted to show it all of the love his parents, sister, and Rosinante had shown to him. 

Looking up from nibbling and enjoying the chocolate tart, you notice the tension in Law’s shoulders and additional pressure in the thud in his boots. You furrow your brows in a deep frown, unsure of what was going through his mind. Both agreeing to leave the prior experience at the door seven or so weeks ago was a mutually beneficial decision you both made. The way you rationalized it, you can’t give in to the emotions and feelings you had for your captain if you forbade yourself from sharing them with him. 

The truth of it was this: you loved him. Plain, simple, and as true as the fact the sun rose every day to illuminate the world in its glory. You started as friends, shared a drunken night together that opened a door to your heart - a door that you slammed shut as soon as it was revealed. To fall in love at sea, especially loving your captain as a subordinate, was a luxury you had both barred one another from feeling. You were friends, and you were okay with that. 

Ushering you into his office, you sat in your regular chair beside his circular table. You licked at your lips, the crumbling shell of the tart leaving a soft crust of sweetness on your mouth. Law had a whole speech finally planned out: his lips curling to attempt to relay them.

“I am so desperately in love with you. You are my closest friend, my best friend, someone I could spend the rest of my life with. I know you don’t feel the same, but considering my child is growing in your belly, I would hope that you could warm to seeing me in such a way. I want them, I want you. I love you, please learn to love me too: if not as a partner, then as a co-parent to our child.’

But instead of pouring his heart out to you, he sat at his desk and stared unblinkingly at your stomach, uttering a simple phrase with a quiet whisper of your name.

“You’re pregnant.” 

Blinking slowly, you place the half-eaten tart on the circular table in front of you, the base crumbling onto the clean countertop. You return your hands to your lap with a soft shake in your fingers. Reaching up to your abdomen, you press down on the pit of your stomach with a soft pressure. 

The Heart-Pirates had all received extensive medical degrees in specialist areas: Law being the 'surgeon of death', Shachi being an expert in fishmen biology, Penguin being an anesthetist, Bepo being proficient in naturopathic remedies, Ikkaku being the best for combat quick fixes on the battlefield, and so on. Your speciality in nursing had you explore anatomy within the midwifery sub category, your fingers settling above your uterus and using your thumb, index and middle finger assess the size of your abdominal growth. 

You looked down to your fingers, feeling the lump beneath your digging hand feel as large as a lemon in your abdomen. Using your unoccupied hand, you draw it up to your breasts and give one a gentle squeeze to test the ache in their swell. You snap your eyes up to meet with your captains, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I am,” you whisper in shock, with a quiver in your lips and your eyes pooling in fear at the unknown. You could not get a read on him, glancing between his eyes and clenching your chattering teeth tightly shut to halt their nervous twitching. Your heartbeat tremors, your eyes beginning to swim in glassy pools as you anticipated his wrath. 

Instead of wrath, Law calmly walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. With an unsure and soft hand, he drew your body into him and cradled you against his chest. He wanted to feel you safely in his arms, his heart crying and pleading with him to confess those unspoken words to you more fervently. You circled your hands beneath his arms and buried your face in his chest, your body caged within the clutches of anxiety at the prospect of shepherding life. Law held you like this, stroking your back with his tattooed fingers and holding you firmly against himself. 

“I’m not mad,” Law whispered, soothing your hair in his hand. Your breath hitched, your heart jumping into your throat and forming a solid lump. 

“You’re not mad?” you whisper your question against his chest, looking up into his amber eyes with shock, “But what if I am?” The small twitch in his wide eyes looked down at you in shock.

“Are you?” Law’s eyes widened with his question fleeing his lips as soon as you offered yours. His teeth clenched shut, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed in anticipation. You looked away, sifting through your eyes for regrets of the night you shared seven weeks prior. 

“I don’t think I am, no,” you admit with a soft nod of your head. You untangle yourself from his arms, sitting upright and lacing your hands in front of you with a frown on your features. 

“Talk to me,” Law ordered you softly, “Tell me what’s going on in there.” He whispered your name, humming over the syllables in his soft cadence saved for quiet moments together. You inhale deeply, exhaling with your eyes scrunched shut before reopening them again.

“I suppose I need to leave, captain,” you utter with soft sorrow in your tone, thinking about all the options you’ve explore internally and processing them orally, “Give up my life at sea, make a home for myself in some coastal town, offer my services as a medical practitioner to bring in regular clients, raise the child of a pirate alone-.” 

“-No.” 

Law’s bark shocked you, prompting you to snap your eyes up to meet his frown. His left hand shot down to yours in your lap, his right hand placed on the pit of your stomach and holding over the small, barely noticeable elevation. You fluttered your eyes between his, the seriousness in his expression beginning to cause you to run away with your thoughts. 

“I will not let either of you out of my sight,” Law whispered softly, raising his right hand away from your hands and cupping your cheek, “I want you here,” he ushered you closer by your chin towards his lips, “I want you home with me.” 

“What are you saying?” you ask him, allowing him to lead your lips towards his. Your eyes dart down to them before floating up to look at him through half-hooded lashes. His soft smile twitched up at the corners. 

“You said we shouldn’t mention it,” he teased you, mostly to make light of the situation you found yourselves within, “But I’m going to say now what I would’ve said then.” He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, tender and loving kiss. He felt the shock in your whimper, the soft whisper of a sob in your voice, and smiled further into the kiss the moment you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, he caressed your stomach as he raked his hand over your abdomen towards your hip. You clutched at his raven locks, finally allowing yourself to smile into the kiss and lean into his touch. His tongue darted out to dampen your bottom lip, softly coaxing you to open yourself up to him further. Before taking the kiss any further than just a simple expression, he broke away and pressed his forehead against your own.

“While I will always be your friend first,” he whispered, drawing his hand down to your chin and rubbing at your bottom lip with his thumb softly, “I want so much more from you,” he smiled at you, releasing your lip from his thumb and pinching at your chin, “I need you to know that I love you, and I want to do this right.” 

Overwhelmed with emotions, you slowly nod your head in his grip. Your wordless confirmation is all he needed to capture your lips in his once more and travel his hands to the front of your boiler suit. You gasp into his mouth, his smile morphing up more into his cheeks as he whispers. 

“Easy now, I’m not being funny,” he murmurs into the kiss, “Just need to feel for myself, alright?” His fingers reach below your boiler suit, hovering over your stomach as his lips break away from yours. He slowly, tentatively, presses down onto your abdomen and seeks out the firming ball of flesh against your cervix. He gasps, his eyes beginning to brim with emotion as you beam up at him with pride. 

“I feel them,” he whispers, looking down at your stomach, pushing a little firmly against you, “Perfect size for seven weeks gestation.” He hovers his fingers over your abdomen and activates his devil fruit to measure their fluttering beat and concentrating with his brows furrowed. After a few minutes pass, he looks back up to you, “One-thirty beats.”

“That's good,” you smile, pressing your hand against his knuckles, “Strong already for such a little lemon.” He cracks his face into a wide grin, his teeth showing and his eyes crinkling at the corners. This image was one you never thought you would see over his features, the purity of his joy fully on his face. 

Questions left unthought of and unanswered regarding the health of your child were flung from your mind. Would there be complications with this child being a half devil-fruit user, would Law’s hereditary blood disease pass from him to them, would you still be able to resist haki while balancing your own body and a foreign within you? So many questions that fled your mind the moment Law’s joy sprung to his face. 

You could be lost within his amber eyes forever, both of you feeling excited about exploring this new life growing and developing within you. Sooner or later, you would have to inform the crew of not only your new relationship, but ushering a new “Trafalgar D” into the era of piracy. For now, you lingered a little longer on Law’s couch, the chili-chocolate tart discarded for something sweeter found against the lips of your lover. 

[brandwhorestarscream]

"Wait-" Optimus blinks, then squints and takes a step closer. "Wait, w-wait. Are you crying?!"

Megatron visibly recoils for a moment, flinching and taken aback. "Am I-?!" He sputters, and his vents make a wet, wheezy noise. "Of course I'm crying! I just watched you die, you idiot! Why wouldn't I be crying?!"

"I-" Optimus is silent for a momsnt, expression softening. His face is open, and shocked, and pained. "I... I'm, sorry," he swallows. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Funny," his best friend snaps. "Cuz you make me cry a lot."

Optimus looks sparkbroken. "I do?"

"YES! All the time! But you never notice, because you're always too busy doing what you want and chasing your next adrenaline shot! You never think about me or anyone else! You made me cry that time you broke my arm jumping off a building cuz you thought we could just magically fly if we believed it hard enough, you made me cry that time you tried to rig that mining drill for double power and crushed three of my fingers! I had to wait two and a half decacyles for a replacement, you remember that?! You made me cry that time you tricked me into eating that energon you 'distilled' yourself and I got fuel poisoning! I was sick for six days straight! And what about that time you stole those extra rations and lied to me saying it was a reward and we both got tossed in containment! You made me cry after you took me up to that spot to watch the race and tricked me, and you made me cry when that monster carved me up like a bulb-lantern and you told me I WAS LIKE HIM!" Megatron shoves him back, and hiccups sharply. "You make me cry a lot, Pax, you just never NOTICE! And I'm tired of it!"

Silence rings defeaning around them, and Optimus is speechless. The whole world is watching.

"...Dee," he whispers, servos coming up to reach out to him. "I- I'm sorry."

Megatron half-heartedly smacks his hand away, but the strength behind it is draining. He's said his piece, and now with it off his chassis, the animosity and the resentment is already starting to bleed away. "No you're not."

"No," Optimus catches his servo. Turns it over to clasp between both of his palms, lifting his helm to peer directly into tear-soaked red optics. "I am. I... never wanted to hurt you, Dee. Never. I- I never wanna hurt you."

The silver mech sobs. He looks downtrodden, and miserable, and afraid. When he finally speaks, he sounds small and fragile, and almost like himself again. "...I don't wanna hurt you, either."

...

What would happen in Optimus noticed Megatron's tears in the last scene? Something like this, I hope

[abwatt]

Sun in Scorpio II (2Nov - 12 Nov 2023)

The Sun enters Scorpio II — which Austin Coppock called the Alchemical Apparatus for Double Distillation (or the Double Distiller), and T. Susan Chang named The Golden Hour for its association with the 6 of Cups. Initiates of the Golden Dawn learned to think of this card as “The Lord of Pleasure” — and there’s some value in this season, to remembering the joys of childhood and its simpler…

[ad-caelestia]

basic ass witch tips 🔮

[revised post from ~2018 & last edited on 9.29.24]

please note that these are all related to things i have actually seen discussed or mentioned. please do your research before blindly following the advice of someone online, myself included.

if you're on some kind of medication, including but not limited to hormonal birth control, heart medication, and anti-depressants, double check with your healthcare professional/provider [HCP] before you drink that new tea you just bought.

always, always, always tell your HCP before trying any kind of herbal supplement, whether it’s something you made yourself or something you bought at the store.

have a diagnosed medical condition? talk to your HCP before ingesting anything or putting anything on your body that you aren’t familiar with.

don’t. drink. essential. oils. essential oils are not consumable!!!!!

citrus oils can cause photosensitivity, or being sensitive to light and more susceptible to sunburns so be mindful when using these oils on your skin.

if it hasn't been emphasized enough, PLEASE dilute your essential oils before use! common carrier oils are grapeseed, castor, olive, coconut, avocado, almond, etc.

oil and water don't mix, so you would need to use an alcohol based solution with essential oils to dilute them that way (if you plan to use them for a spray or something of that nature).

be mindful of using sprays, incense, powders, etc. that could release particulates into the air around pets or those who have allergies, respiratory issues, etc.

don't involve your pets in your practice in a way that could be harmful to them - no essential oils on them, no crystals in their water bowl, no moon water that's been sitting on your shelf for weeks.

i beg you, please don't put crystals in any uh bodily orifices.

there are some herbs you absolutely cannot burn (or use safely, really) for any reason, so make sure you're educated on all that beforehand; yew, for example, is highly toxic and potentially fatal if consumed or inhaled. the leaves, bark, and seeds contains a chemical called taxine, which is what some of the most hardcore chemotherapies are made from so keep that in the back of your mind.

that being said, please wear gloves and use common sense if you decide to forage for your own herbs or plants. i know that plant identifying apps exist so if you have a smartphone, that might be a good place to start.

putting salt on grass does a couple of things: salt removes moisture from the soil, thus drying out the grass and killing it; and, salt causes chloride to build up in the soil, thus making it toxic which inhibits chlorophyll production, leading the grass to eventually "starve" and die - please don't do this.

don't leave candles unattended - even small ones; it's not a good habit to get into.

also!! crystal balls in direct sunlight can cause a fire so be careful!

more fire stuff - be mindful of the environment and also safety so check for burn bans before you make a fire outdoors.

sterile lancets, not needles or pins. that's all i'm gonna say about that.

don't drink water you collected from anywhere outside unless you plan to properly filter it first.

if you plan to store water for later use (moon water, for example), refrigerate it or set it in a cool, dark place.

distilled water is free of minerals and contaminants so it has a longer shelf life than tap or bottled water - keep this in mind when making charged waters or other potion type things.

fresh herbs or other things of that nature left at room temperature can also grow super harmful bacteria. for example, putting raw garlic in olive oil and leaving it at room temperature will end as a breeding ground for botulism and mold.

be safe out there!

© 2024 𝚊𝚍-𝚌𝚊𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊

[radicalgraff]

Anti-capitalist, anti-USA graffiti seen on a CocaCola Christmas statue in Belgrade, Serbia.

Sljivovica is a double-distilled plum brandy.

[localplaguenurse]

What Could Go Wrong?

Mothman Dottore X Fem Reader Smut (Kinktober Week 3)

Give it up for week three! FINALLY I write Dottore smut after two years jfc. Harpyttore was very tempting, but part of the challenge is that I can’t write anything I’ve already read in another fic. So Mothman.

WARNINGS: Moths, inaccurate/inappropriate use of moth facts, scent kink (?), mating/in heat, I think this one is actually pretty chill compared to the last two, more silly I think

Minors DNI

“I know you’re smarter than this,” you hear your lab partner and best friend remark, “you have to know this is stupid, right?”

You finish loading your film into the kamera and delicately put the spare film back in your bag with your notebook, your pencil case, lamp, fire starting kit, jasmine oil, jar of honey, and a vile wrapped up in cloth and secured in a wooden box. There are other supplies in the bag, but these are absolutely essential for your task tonight. The little box is especially important.

“You can’t honestly believe there is a man sized moth living in the forest,” they continue as you take inventory of your gear. 

“I’m skeptical too,” you say, “but can I call myself a lepidopterist if I pass this up? Or even just an entomologist?”

“You even admit it’s bullshit!” “Hey, I said I was skeptical, but not why,” you state. “Do I believe in a man sized moth? No. Do I believe there is a large species of moth living deep in the Dharma Forest that has yet to be properly discovered and identified? That’s more likely.”

“Even then, the driyoshes who came screaming about seeing the moth admitted later that it was probably just a large bird of sorts.”

You close your bag up. “You can just say you’re not coming with me,” you tell them, “you can just say you don’t believe it and don’t want to come, but you don’t have to talk to me like I’m dumb.”

“I just don’t want you getting eaten by tigers while you’re out there.” “I know which paths to avoid, and I’m pretty sure the driyoshes were on one of the safer ones.”

Your friend shakes their head in defeat. “I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?” “Nope.”

They pinch the bridge of their nose. “Just… explain the thought process behind what you’re bringing.”

You smile. “Okay, so the kamera, the notebook and my camping supplies are self explanatory. I’m camping out there for the next few days, and I need actual proof this thing exists.”

“Okay.”

“The lamp is for navigating in the dark, and the fire kit is for camping out in the forest,” you continue, “but they also double as sources of light and heat, which can attract moths.”

They nod along.

“Jasmines are a commonly liked flower among moths,” you say, “so I figured the smell of jasmine oil would attract them. Honey is a food source.”

“And your source for that?”

“Adult moths primarily consume nectar or sugary substances if they have mouths,” you state, “especially the death’s-head hawkmoth. They actually create a squeaking noise similar to queen bees that allow them to sneak into hives and eat their honey. Not that I think this is a death’s-head, but it can’t hurt.”

“And that little box you snagged from the Amurta labs?”

“You make it sound like I stole it,” you say. “I have permission to use it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“...” You sigh. “As a last resort… I’m packing a vial of distilled moth pheromones.”

At this, your partner’s eyes widen and they bury their face in their hands, embarrassed for you. “Like mating pheromones?”

“Yes, like mating pheromones.”

“Okay, cool, interesting,” they say, “very important question though; what the fuck are you going to do if a horny, man sized moth swarms you thinking you’re a potential mate?”

“That… is a bridge I will cross when I get there.”

“Are you going to–”

“I’m not going to have sex with the giant moth,” you quickly interrupt, “I don’t even know how that could happen.”

“It’s a man sized moth, anything is possible.”

“I’m not that dedicated to my research,” you state, face burning. 

“Whatever, just… be safe, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll only be three days,” you tell them, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You heave as you lift your bag up, and offer your partner a smile.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

—

You’re thankful the moths seem more interested in your light and the honey you set out, but the stray little males still flutter up to you as you eat. You gently swat the fortieth one away, and two more come looking for the fertile female they’re smelling. You swat them away as well, ad infinitum.

At some point in your trip to your designated camping spot, the vial of moth pheromones had broken and leaked out of the box you kept it in, seeping into your clothes. The vial wasn’t that large, but by the great wisdom given to the researchers who made it, was it ever potent. It’s so potent, in fact, that there are several different breeds of moth trying to mate with the clothes you hung up to dry. You were hoping and praying the rain that suddenly came down last night would have helped wash away some of the smell, but no matter how much water you wrung from them, the pheromones are still noticeable to every moth in the vicinity. 

Your pajamas weren’t too affected and dried quickly, but clearly they still smell if the moths are still trying to get your attention. You’d wear the clothes from yesterday, but they’re just dirty in general and not ideal for sleep. It’s not like you’re getting much sleep, though. The flapping of hundreds of moths is getting annoying. On the bright side, at least you have something interesting to tell your partner when you get back to the Akademiya.

You finish up your little meal and begin tidying up. You pack away your dirty dishes while moths continue to harass you. Yeah, this was probably a really dumb idea, trying to hunt down a big ass moth. You’ll pack up and head back home tomorrow morning, still being swarmed by moths.

You manage to shoo the moths out of your tent before you secure the flap. You sigh and crawl into your sleeping bag. You shut your eyes, listening to the fluttering wings and little chirps.

Wait, chirps? Moths don’t squeak unless they’re trying to throw off predators like bats, or they’re trying to steal honey from bees undetected. As you sit up, you can hear the squeaking is getting louder, and the flapping of little wings is growing faster, more frantic.

You hesitantly peak out of your tent to see swarms squealing and screeching as they begin to escape into the night sky. Astonished, you step outside and look up. There are so many they nearly blot out the light of the moon, still squeaking in absolute terror. Your blood runs cold. It makes sense that once one moth lets out the alarm of a predator, others would follow, but with this many moths still drowning in the pheromones staining your clothes? This many moths in general?

You get your answer when a massive, solid shape blocks out the moon, and like a divine plague, the moths go into a desperate and swarming frenzy, pelting into your body and your face as they frantically make their escape. You drop to the ground and cover your eyes and mouth as the storm rages. You can only imagine how this looks from the outside. You wonder how far the eclipse of frightened bugs can be seen.

You lift your head up when the flaps quiet down, and the squeaks grow distant, and you’re no longer being violently bumped into. You look up to see clouds of moths literally eclipsing the moon and disappearing among the stars in the sky. You stand, looking around your campsite, at the surrounding treeline. Something is horribly wrong, what was that big thing in the sky? You only saw it briefly, but it was much larger than any man. There’s no way, it can’t be–

You snap around when you hear rustling in the shrubbery behind you. You swear you see something move in the shadows but it disappears too quickly to get a grasp on it. You try to recall the story of the monster the driyoshes told. It was a large, shadowy winged beast, and the only other thing they saw before they bolted were a pair of big, red eyes.

You dive for your pack, pulling everything out until your fingers make contact with the kamera. You yank it out and stand, eyes darting around at every little noise and movement. Then it’s quiet, and it stays quiet. You look up at the sky, and you can’t see the moths anymore.

A twig snaps behind you. You whip around and hit the button on the kamera. The flash blinds the red eyed creature, and it snarls and covers its face with a black arm. You scream and stumble back, falling on your ass and attempting to scramble away. 

It’s not a man sized moth, it’s a moth man.

He stands tall, black wings with pale blue patterns along the edge flying open in defence. Black fluff covers his shoulders and chest, and though his arms and legs, clawed and covered in fine little hairs, are black, his torso is primarily pale flesh coloured, as is his face. His scowling face is surprising human, save for the pointed teeth and large, glowing red eyes. His hair is pale blue, like the patterns on his wings, and the feathery antennae sprouting from the top are black.

You get a much better look at his features when he descends upon you, pinning you beneath his barely humanoid form, claws grasping at your wrists and holding them down to the ground. You feel shivers run up your spine as he stares at you, antennae twitching. He tilts his head, and leans in closer to your face. You close your eyes tight and turn your face away, scared he’s going to bite your face off.

You’re surprised when instead, he curls his body so he can rest his head on your chest, His antennae brush against your neck, and begin shivering. You squirm at the ticklish feeling. Then his wings begin to shake, and he lets out a deep groan as the rest of his body shudders. He lifts his head, lips pulled into a large grin that borders on predatory as he just stares.

“Oh… how lovely,” he purrs, “I can’t recall the last time I had the chance to mate.”

Your eyes widen, skipping over the fact this man-thing speaks common and jumping right to the meaning behind his words. “What?!”

He chuckles. “Your scent,” he clarifies, “it’s strong enough that it has brought almost every mature male moth to your location, myself included. But I know that’s not your natural scent, is it?”

You nervously shake your head.

“Of course not, you’re human,” he says. “And you’re one of those Akademiya students. That’s how you acquired those pheromones, no?”

“Y… Yes.”

“And you know what they do, don’t you?”

“I-I’m a lepidopterist,” you tell him, “I p-primarily study moths. I know what the pheromones do.”

Blood rushes to your face when the monster nuzzles his cheek against yours. His breath fans over your ear, and you question the flutter in your stomach when you hear the rasp in his voice.

“Then I have to wonder what your intentions were…”

You recall your roommate asking what you’re going to do if you encounter a giant horny moth, and you stating you would not fuck the giant moth. Well… he’s not really a full moth, is he? He’s pretty humanoid, oddly handsome at that, too, and is a self aware being. He’s into you, so… fuck it, why not. It’s not like you promised you wouldn’t have sex with a moth person, just no giant moths.

“I-It was intended as a last resort to see if you were real,” you say, “but accidents happen. Might as well m-make the most of it, haha…”

The moth just laughs. He lets go of one of your wrists and grabs the front of your shirt. With one pull, he rips it open. You squeak in surprise as the cool night air hits your skin. Rough, almost scaled hands grasp your breasts, and he trills at the squish of your flesh. You whine when he presses his body against you, slotting between your legs with willing ease.

“So soft,” he purrs, “so warm. Though I prefer my solitude away from humans, I must admit your body heat is divine.”

You don’t say anything, simply letting out breathy moans as he kneads your breasts, clawed fingers occasionally pinching your stiffened nipples. He doesn’t seem to mind, rather he relishes your little noises and fidgets. He lets out a little laugh when you try to lean into his touch some more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and Archons, his fur is softer than you expected. He seems perplexed by the gesture, and a surprised little noise gets caught in his throat when you pull him into a kiss. You wonder how often he’s done something like this with another human or perhaps moth person when he slithers his tongue into your mouth. His tongue tastes sweet, sort of like honey with floral hints, perhaps he feeds on nectar and honey?

You stop wondering why he tastes sweet when you feel him rock his hips against you, feeling something grind into your clothed sex. He grunts into your mouth as he humps against you, and before you can process that, you jolt when you feel it shake. You pull back and try sitting up to look. You blink, face somehow getting warmer at the fascinating and arousing sight.

It’s a decent size, bigger than what you’re used to but not completely out of the realm of possibility. It’s dark, the ridges fading from black to red at the tip. It’s coated in a layer of slick, which you think you can attribute to the dripping slit it’s protruding from. When he chuckles, his twitching cock vibrates, but only in a short burst.

“W-Wait, you can–”

“I’m sure you know that trait is meant to ward off predators in most moths,” he states, “but since I have no natural predators, and am not a measly little moth… well, past humans I’ve mated with have found the trait useful.”

It’s true. Some moths, primarily male hawkmoths, rub the scales near their genitals to make a chirping noise that confuses bats. With that in mind, it sort of makes sense that this moth man has a similar ability that is simultaneously very different. You think a less horny and somehow less rational version of you would immediately sit up and ask a hundred questions, but all you can ask is how is that going to feel when it’s inside?

The moth’s antennae twitches, and he chuckles. “Oh? Eager, are we?”

“What?”

“Your pheromones are becoming stronger moment by moment,” he states, trailing a hand down to grasp his cock, “especially after observing this.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Such a lovely scent, I think I prefer it over the moth pheromones.”

Why you find that so flattering, you don’t know, but you do know from the pulse in your core that you want that thing in you as fast as you can get it in. You lift your hips up so you can slide your pajama bottoms and your underwear off. You barely get them off before the creature grabs your thighs and forces them apart, exposing your dripping heat. He wastes no time, urging you to wrap your arms and legs around him as his tip nudges against you. You let out a little whimper as he slowly grinds against you, then stills his hips. You gasp at the burst of vibration against your clit, and he chuckles.

“Oh, you’re going to be a fun little thing.”

Without any real warning, he presses the tip against your hole, pushing into you slowly. You jolt when he finally slips inside, moaning softly as he sinks deeper into your warmth. The ridges rubbing all along your walls are a feeling quite unlike anything else. Very different, and not at all bad. He groans so sweetly in your ear as he works his way down to the base. You whine at how full you feel, barely fitting him. The pressure of it all without adequate preparation makes you ache, but no sharp pains or anything of concern. You attribute that to both your bodies’ natural lubrication. Still, even with the ache, or perhaps because of it, you feel a deep arousal, a deep want for more, more, more.

He doesn’t wait for you to give the okay before he begins thrusting. You yelp as he sets a surprisingly quick pace. Your hands claw at his back in an attempt to orient yourself. He’s not even being that rough, just quick, but with his size still stretching you and the ridges grinding against your sweet spot when he draws back and slips back in, trying to focus on one thing or another is already a little overstimulating.

He buries himself to the hilt, and you’re embarrassed at the loud, high pitched sound that rips out of your throat when you feel him shudder inside you. He laughs, and his tone seems almost mocking as he draws back, slams back inside, and does it again to hear you squeal and feel you shudder. He leans down, pressing his fluffy chest against your soft chest, so he can really see every little reaction to his little trick.

“S-Stop teasing!” you cry out when he does it a third time.

“This is the most effective way for me to– ngh… do this,” he tells you through a clenched grin. “I can only do it in quick bursts, not continuously.” To emphasize his point, he does it a fourth and fifth time, relishing in the feeling of your walls clamping down around him. “Do you want me to stop?”

He does it a sixth time, and you try to shoot him a glare, but with how smug he looks about it and how you imagine you look right now, it has no effect on him. You just pull him in closer, nuzzling your face into his neck fluff to hide your face. He does it one last time before he returns to his regular thrusting, making you moan in pleasure and relief.

Your fingers brush against his wings, and he stills for a moment, his breath hitching. It gives you an idea. When he starts up his tempo again, you rub along the scales where his wings connect to his back. He shudders against you, and his voice pitches slightly higher. He immediately stops moving, looking down at you with his shining red eyes. You offer a smug smile, but your lack of confidence is very evident. He chuckles.

His hand moves up your thigh and his thumb finds your clit. Your hips buck when he begins to rub it in quick circles, and that’s when he slams down to the hilt and you feel his cock’s vibrations again. This time, he stays buried inside you, his cock vibrating in shorter, but more frequent bursts. You cry out, the heat in your core quickly growing too much for you to handle.

“Wait, w-wait, stop!”

“Why should I?”

You sob as he presses as flush against you as he can, somehow reaching even deeper, rubbing and buzzing against your sweet spot even more. You try to move away, but his other hand holds you in place. “T-Too much,” you tell him, voice cracking as he continues to quiver inside you. “I-I’m gonna cum if you keep– hah!”

“No one’s stopping you,” he teases, “so feel free to let yourself go.”

You try to hold yourself together, but that’s when he starts rocking into you while he’s already so deep inside you, when he keeps convulsing inside you and starts rubbing your clit faster. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you shudder and claw at his back desperately, unable to hold your moans. 

Your back arches obscenely and your hips buck when the moth man pushes you past your limit into climax. You imagine your debauched cries can be heard throughout the forest, but the white hot pleasure shooting through your nerves makes you unable to care.

You’re not even through the first waves of your orgasm when he starts thrusting into you again, making you actually start crying out as overstimulated tears slip out of your eyes. He’s at least let up on the vibrations and rubbing, but his cock is too much when you’re still reeling from the overwhelming pleasure.

“My turn,” he grunts out before you can ask what the hell he’s doing. You wouldn’t have been able to ask anyways, as each thrust knocks the wind out of you, building up your next orgasm quicker and quicker while you’re still riding out your first. You want him to stop, to slow down, to keep fucking going because you’re never going to feel this good ever again with a human cock and you need to sear this into your memory.

He lurches forward, and his sharp teeth clamp down onto your shoulder. You scream, and he slams hard into you as your eyes roll back with your second climax. You whine, the sound almost pathetic, as you feel warmth flood your core. He holds you still so he doesn’t slip out, but there’s still so much that his seed leaks out anyways.

In the stillness, you can finally get some air in your lungs as you pant. You feel the moth man pull his teeth from your shoulder, his tongue lapping at the blood. You feel your body going limp, only to tense up again and sob when you feel another burst of movement inside you.

“I hope you didn’t think that’s all it would take,” he goads, lifting his head to meet your gaze. Red stains the corners of his lips. “I don’t often get the opportunity to mate, so I intend on properly breeding you while I still have you here.”

You swallow nervously, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You don’t hate the idea, Archons no, but at this rate, you’re going to be fucked too stupid to think of an excuse for what happened here when you return to the Akademiya. Would they even believe you if you said you had sex with the giant moth in the forest.

Another shudder snaps you out of the last rational thought you’re going to have before you return, and you simply brace yourself for more.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 

“Next lad!”  

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  

“Next lad!” 

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  

[wandascrush]

Ambushed

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x f!reader, Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Avengers x f!reader

Warnings: Fighting, injuries, punching, choking, ambushes, cursing

Part 3 to my DIWK series

Sick. Every morning you woke up sick. You should be used to it by now, being a double agent and all for a few months, but you never got over that distilled anxiety. Bottled up, saved for the quietness of your room at the end of the day. It settled like a cold, heavy, pit in your stomach. Too heavy to move or swallow, so it just sat with you. 

You remember being in therapy a few years ago, having this pretty blonde stare across at you from the comfy-looking leather couch, tapping her pen against her gray slacks and bouncing knee. “And how does that make you feel?” Her voice was light as if it was a suggestion more than a question. “The same as it always does. There’s no flavor of the month for this thing, it’s the same every. single. day.” You groaned out the last word. 

Therapy never worked for you anyway. 

You couldn’t tell if it was an emotional thing or the fact that you slept with your therapists nearly every time, but it just wasn’t your vibe. 

So now here you were, for one reason or another, gently knocking your head on the wall as you thought about the kiss(es) you shared with Agent Romanoff, and how her lips felt like the best place in the world. And also how stupid it was. How idiotic. Get semi-involved with someone on your team, especially when you’re a double agent. Sort of. More on that later. 

You checked your watch, five minutes till go time, your first huge mission with the team. The stomping of boots in unison was all you focused on as you and the rest of the team boarded the Quinjet, strapping in and resting your head against the cold metal. You breathed out heavily, trying not to focus on the green-eyed witch sitting next to you, jaw clenched and obviously uncomfortable. 

A few hours later the ship bumpily landed in a flower field, shaking everyone’s head a bit too much for comfort. 

“Peter, Y/N, and Wanda- you two will take the North tower and get the hostages out from Cell blocks A-C.” Tony went down the list calling out different groups for the other 4 areas that needed to be covered. “Last but certainly not least, Romanoff and Rogers- you’re blessed with my presence on this mission.” 

“Our fearless leader.” Steve groaned as he got up and walked out of the Quinjet.

Peter, shaggy brown hair, a nervous smile, and a spider suit on- that was the guy who was supposed to help defend you in case of an enemy ambush. And Wanda. Brown layered hair, bite with every word she said to you, and a red leather jacket- your other line of defense. Great. You might as well be fighting with your little brother considering the small age gap between you and Spidey. Truth is, you liked the kid. He had heart, and you felt bad for him too. Everyone treated him like a lost puppy, but you’ve seen him train. Peter’s definitely not as seasoned of a fighter as everyone else, but damn he did not give up. 

Your group was supposed to clear out cell blocks A-C of an abandoned prison, supposedly harboring kidnapped engineers. You kicked the first exit door open, gun in hand and a flashlight being held by Peter right behind. Wanda trailed slightly behind you guys, ensuring no one snuck up from the back. The stairs cracked and groaned with each step, and cold metallic air whipped through the large facility. You crinkled your nose at the smell. Making it up the stairwell safely, you were met with the boring site of rusty old cells…and empty. You looked around, opening up the cells, peering in, and stepping out. Where the hell was everyone? “You guys might want to take a look at this,” Peter called out, sticking to one of the walls and pointing at a sealed door in the corner. Oh. Without being asked Wanda stuck one of her arms out, encompassing the sealed cement door with beautiful scarlet swirls causing it to crack, and shatter. Behind it was a pitch-black hallway.

You looked up at Peter, shrugging, “Ladies first, you’re up kid. Lead the way.” 

He smiled…until he got the joke, “Sure Miss- wait what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Wanda turned away to hide her smirk from you, covering it with a cough. “Don’t mind her, Peter. She thinks it's comedy hour.” 

“Awh you think I’m funny witchy?”

“In your dreams, Y/N.” 

Peter jumped down from his spot, taking a step forward into the hallway and flashing his light around. It seemed to go on forever the longer you three walked, with no turns or hidden rooms. Just a hallway. Huh. 

Meanwhile, Tony, Nat, and Steve were walking the rest of the grounds exploring every nook and cranny. The last cell block, D, was pretty much empty too with light pouring in from the broken windows. 

 “It’s too quiet Tony.”

“Kinda nice right?”

“You completely missed my point on that, but okay. Quiet doesn’t mean empty it means-”

Steve cut in, “Hiding. Look at the door in the corner, it’s completely sealed off.” In an instant, Tony blasted it. 

One thing you’d learn about Peter Parker was that he talked a lot when he was nervous.  

“Did you know that the subways under NYC have been around for hundreds of years?”

Then you all heard it, the click-clack of slow but steady footsteps. You held your hand up, signaling silence and stopping your movements. The steps were out of sync and loud, not just one person but maybe two, or three. 

Your steps got closer, their steps got closer, yours got closer, theirs got closer, yours got closer, theirs got-

“FUCK TONY!”

“FUCK WANDA!”  

You all nearly shot each other to death thanks to your jumpscares. “I thought you were supposed to be in cell block D?” you asked him, quietly trying to stop the hum of your heart against your chest. 

“We were, but this tunnel led us here.”

“Yeah, same with ours.” 

Peter sat on the floor, arms resting on his knees,  “Okay so we all made it here but- where are the hostages?”

“We were gonna ask you guys the same thing,” Tony scoffed. And in an instant, it dawned on all of you. Oh shit. “AMBUSH- GET OUT OF THE HALL!” You all started running towards the entrance your group came out of, everyone following behind you. The floors started rumbling and the overhead of planes could be heard above you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. All of you ran out of the cell block, barely in time an earth shattering boom sounded. All of you were thrown at least 20 feet onto the cement, hitting your head and skidding. Blurriness filled your vision when you tried to get up, stumbling to your feet and falling back down. You looked around and your breathing was ragged, it felt like a fire had been set in your lungs. Everyone was down. Nat- thrown into a wall from the explosion. Out cold. Steve- barely waking up. Tony- banged up and crashed into the ground but slowly got back up. Wanda- right next to you with blood dripping down her forehead. And Peter- shit where’s Peter? 

You heard him yell and when you turned around- there it was. An entire squad from HYDRA, at least 20 of them, marching towards you and the knocked-out Avengers. Peter,  Steve, Tony, and yourself regrouped immediately. And standing there, smiling happily, was Samantha. 

“Y’know, a simple explosion taking out the world's mightiest is really so disappointing. Kind of glad it didn’t work.” The leader of the group spoke first. You swore you saw his face before. 

“I’m gonna guess there’s no hostages?,” Tony stepped forward, raising his arm and opening up the blasters.

”This should be fun.”

In moments, punches, kicks, and blasts were out in every direction. Peter already knocked five senseless, Steve was working on his set, and Tony was-  well, Tony. Lots of blasting.Then came your turn, and taking out the four that had reached you was comfortable enough, aside from a few scrapes and the gentleman who attempted to pistol whip you. The real party came when Samantha stepped up to the plate, cracking her neck and taking her jacket off. “Y/L/N. We made this so easy for you, leave them in the cell block and you get out safely.”

“Yeah well, it would’ve been a lot easier if I had been aware of the fucking plan.”

“God, I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” she threw a right hook that cut you square in the jaw, and immediate pain exploded to your face. You tackled her to the ground, pinning her with your legs on each side of her waist, blow after blow to her face. Her nose was bleeding and she kicked you in the stomach. Samantha flipped you over and started pressing down on your throat, “I wish you had never come to Hydra- never come to take my fucking place.” Her grip tightened and you saw emptiness in her eyes. 

You tried to dig your nails into her hands, desperately grabbing at skin or anything painful enough. “- stop. We’re on the same team,” you whispered, kicking at anything. Fuck- you couldn’t even flip her over with your legs as much as you kicked and squeezed. Your eyes started to go blurry once again and your head was pounding too much for you to think. Then webs attached themselves to either side of her waist, picking her up and slamming her against the farthest wall. Peter quickly jogged over to you, picking you up and letting you catch your breath. 

“We need to keep moving, come on. They’re all gone.”

Everyone climbed inside the Quinjet after Peter webbed up all the HYDRA members, strapping them to the walls like Christmas ornaments. Natasha had woken up and was feeling fine, Wanda had woken up and fallen asleep on your shoulder accidentally. You tried to ignore the Black Widows' fiery gaze at the redhead who was asleep across from her, but the message was clear. Even though Wanda was a Grade-A asshole, some part of you felt bad for her. Maybe that was what compelled you to dampen a tissue with some water and gently clean the blood off of her forehead, or the way you checked her pulse every few hours. 

A whole day later once every Avenger had rested up and healed their sore muscles, you heard a knock on your door. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Wanda.” You opened the door to find her in a matching hoodie set, cluttered with the words “Screw off.” She dawned a small smile, moving past you and sitting on your bed without a word. Hi there.  You sat next to her, conscientious of the space, and gently cleared your throat, “So, are you feeling better? You got hit pretty hard. ”  

“A whole lot better, thanks to you. It was nice of you to take care of me,” her hand touched yours softly. A gentle smile played on your face. 

“It’s what teammates do.”

Wanda gave you a silent nod. She glanced down at her lap as her expression changed. Apprehensive, she quietly spoke, “But I want you to know that I know. About you, your secret.” With that, she leaned down to your ear to whisper, “Sooner or later, everyone will know,” and left. 

Oh.