#harvest of maturity

[guerrilla-operator]

Coalesce // Harvest of Maturity

I've met that point in my life Want came to need Burn these fields of corn, that surround My harvest gone at the price of maturity But these remains I've left to rot will be resurrected again and again By the next generation of children who want to change minds with the stain on hand But, it's deeper than this, I'm not the only one who sees It lies in diversity; acceptance to a degree, only to a degree The fire that once occupied my eyes has spread to destroy this world I have grown You have nothing new to scream beyond your fields And not a second of patience to learn from me the same This time I harvest the crops of my past As far as the demigods are concerned I've sold myself out just the same I've burned bridges to feign brothers Brothers of nothing more than a simple label So now, I'm in control after all, for myself I prove I still am But within these fields, they'll say I never was

[kinokoshoujoart]

30 days of Harvest Moon day 21 — your otp / candlelight

surprise! i’ve drawn a lot of my otp already, so i wanted to highlight my favorite rarepair!

hmds ruby is implied to be a widow, so… i want the two widows to find love again (with each other)

[shufflekat]

[missbunmuffin]

I had a dream last night that there was another harvest moon game for the ds. If you played as a girl your character had this crush on this guy named Ryan and there was a swimming competition on the second day of the game and Ryan actually dies when competing no matter if you go or not. Also there’s a younger version of Howard from the tale of two towns in it.

[stuffedsand]

There's something interesting to be said about the opinions of different fanbases based on culture and how it affects the votes but it's late and I can't write it out too much so only one example for today: amane

Down under the cut so if it gets too long it won't affect anyone's scrollin

Also warning the tags are long on this one

- <- this indicates a new talking point

Basically I think the jp/more asian parts of the fandom tend to lean towards greater good (amane guilty to protect shidou/mahiru/fuuta because if shidous incapacitated in any way someone's dying, mahiru is prone to dying any moment, fuuta is prone to cult mindset rn). Despite my non japanese speaking ass not being able to gather direct evidence for this, I use those surrounding me (asian in asian country) as evidence; namely, how they're mostly amane guilty voters

-Now I'm not saying my personal take but the reason given for guilting her is well. As much as it will cause her more woe it's one way of guaranteeing the safety of the prison. Shidou is the only medical professional after all, and she's "completely hostile" towards him, acc to jackalope. And she doesn't need to overpower him; shes smart, and could sabotage his equipment or just like. Go for his hands to incapacitate him. I doubt he'd fight back.

-Alternatively, it's because it would cause her to fall back on believing she's right. Telling her she's forgiven with how she's acting would cause her to believe her persistance and dedication to this (harmful) mindset is what got her forgiven in the first place

-Meanwhile more western? English fanbase ig I'm not too sure of demographic, but the English speaking side tends to focus on how it affects her. Because of the belief that another guilty verdict will cause more harm to her, an innocent verdict is the obvious solution. What I've seen is the greater focus on what caused the murder over the murder itself and the effects of an innocent verdict on others and then her beliefs. A focus on the past over what she's promised to do in the present and future perhaps. Idk.

-Another reason for the difference could. Possibly be how punishment is viewed? Western countries have much more stigma over any form of punishment but in Asian countries it's normal. Now while I'd say physical punishment isn't the way to go, the refusal of punishment shouldn't be rewarded (imo) but that's all I'll say on it.

-The English fanbase also focuses a lot on how young amane is and how her circumstances were terrible and all that. Those around me tend to focus more on her thoughts around the crime, what she believes the crime was for and how in the right she thinks she is. This may also be the cause of the moral grandstanding I see so often (ie. If you vote amane guilty you're a baaad person) (I don't agree with this btw. That's stupid this is fiction don't insult others over an opinion)

What I will say is the English speaking side is more sympathetic towards amane. They (y'all?) Take her situation into a lot of consideration, and focus on her age as a large factor. Whereas those around me and I assume might be close to the views of the japanese fanbase are more objective, looking at what harm she could cause and what's the greater of the two evils, as well as what she's going to do with the verdict (ie. Use the inno verdict as her doctrines are correct and very right).

There's slight thought given to her age and circumstance of course, by it that's not the main concern rn. Given the current situation, most of my milgram voting friends stay certain that an innocent verdict will not end well, hence the guilty vote. I mean I have a couple friends that feel bad for guiltying her because of her circumstance, but do it anyway cuz it's for the better. My opinion is that she should've been innocent trial one, since we wouldn't have known the concequences, but it's too late now and an innocent will cause more harm overall

tldr asian fanbase from experience focus on the crime itself + what they're gonna do with that experience whereas eng speaking fanbase focus on the circumstances surrounding the crime and on judging only the crime

In myyy opinion. Judging only the crime based on your interpretation isn't how the system should be working, it should take into consideration the prisoners' attitudes and how the prisoner perceives the crime as well.

I hope this was coherent I typed it out at 11pm and went to bed immediately after and I've barely edited anything cuz awake me is less coherent than half asleep me

Also hope this was an interesting post? This topic is interesting to me but I explain better in speaking over typing so it's probably hard to read but I hope this topic scritches y'all's brains like it does mine :)

[lookwhatyoudidithasanxiety]

Kidnapper: I have your kids.

Sun: *groans* I don't have any kids!!!

Bloody: Sun Maaannnn, hungry!

Lunar: Sunny, they don't have any food here! And these blankets suck!

Harvest: Those are cardboard boxes. Rather inconvenient, if you ask me.

Sun: ....*sighs* I'll be there in five minutes. *click*

[goldensunset]

GUESS WHO COMPLETELY BUNGLED THE FRUIT TREE THING IN STARDEW VALLEY!!!

[biolums]

why do i forget every year that gardening makes me so happy… LOOKXAT MY SQUASH

[simsreaper]

Pandora is finally taking a gardening skill class….at level 7!

She found an omni plant at the science center, but it wasn't ready to be harvested yet but she did find some seeds in the area.

Pandora loves her pools just a little too much, even to swim in the rain.

It was late but Pandora had asked out Chris on a date after he got out of work.

These two are so cute.

[diospyros-kaki]

I've been harvesting grass seeds to recover some parts of childhood home's lawn and. It's so frigging satisfying.

[askwhatsforlunch]

Cheddar Parsnip Mash

A change from your (nonetheless delicious) mashed potatoes, this hearty and creamy Cheddar Parsnip Mash makes an excellent Autumnal side to your Sunday Roast! Have a good one!

Ingredients (serves 2):

340 grams/12 ounces Parsnips

1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt

3 cups water

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

nutmeg

1/2 cup double cream

60 grams/2 ounces Mature English Cheddar

Thoroughly rinse and scrub Parsnips; peel, if necessary.

In a large saucepan, combine Parsnips, coarse sea salt and water. Bring to a slow boil over medium heat, and simmer until Parsnips are tender, about 20 to 25 minutes.

Drain Parsnips thoroughly and stir in butter and grate in about 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg. Mash roughly with a potato masher, and stir in the double cream. Using a hand-blender, process Parsnip mash, gradually adding remaining cream until very smooth. Finally, return over a low flame. Grate in Cheddar coarsely, and give a good stir until melted. 

Serve Cheddar Parsnip Mash hot. It makes an excellent side to both meat and fish.

[kinokoshoujoart]

also i’m obsessed with how rock is described so differently in the jp and en manuals

JP: “The only son of the Mitemitei [Inn]. Happy-go-lucky, but he has a gentler side”

EN: “TIM AND RUBY’S W I L D P A R T Y B O Y”

[farmerstrend]

The Looming Impact of La Niña: How the Greater Horn of Africa Can Prepare for Depressed October-December Rains

“Explore how the Greater Horn of Africa can prepare for depressed October-December rains due to La Niña, with strategies including climate-smart agriculture, water harvesting, and fast-maturing crops.” “Discover the critical role of climate resilience, community-led projects, and government investments in protecting vulnerable communities in the Greater Horn of Africa from the impacts of La…

[philodendronforming]

Bottle gourd

The most essential plant is the bottle gourd vegetable plant in our day-to-day life. It is botanically Lagenaria siceraria and it belongs to the Cucurbitaceous family.In south India its commonly called as Sorakkai.

Plant description

The bottle gourd plants has commonly cultivated plants in India. Most of the Cucurbitaceae vegetable plants are annual climbing vines with wide leaves & those are edible. The fruit has various shapes. And the shape depends upon the varieties.

Most of the bottle gourd shapes are uniformly cylindrical, curved round bulbous. Lagenaria siceraria plant bears attractive white flowers & plant grows up to 4 -5 inches in diameter with large petals.

Varieties

Growing Bottle gourd from seeds

Initially,sow the quality seeds directly in to the pits or raised seed beds & sprinkle water. Seeds germinate 3 to 4 days after planting. And matured plant climbs as they are climbers Harvesting done 2-3 months after harvesting.

Benefits

The sorakkai benefits are enormous such as

Bottle gourd contains a good amount of vitamin C, B, folate, iron, zinc & calcium.

It has contain a high amount of choline, a neurotransmitter which are good for brain function.

String music instruments made from dried bottle gourds like khanjiri,tumba, veena, & others.

Save Earth & Go Green.

Bottle gourd-Sorkkai vegetable plant.

Blog Created by: www.santhionlineplants.com

[euthymiya]

lumidouce season — ft. wriothesley

for @ficsforgaza kinktober — wriothesley + sex pollen

synopsis: it was supposed to just be a picnic. if there’s still some form of divine power that’s presiding over fontaine, it must really have it out for wriothesley. it was not just a picnic

before you read: 3.5k word count ; female reader ; 18+ mature content ; sex pollen so therefore dubcon ; established relationships ; very slight humiliation kink ; reader is a tease and wriothesley is just miserable tbh ; i made up lore about lumidouce bells built off in-game lore ; reader sits on his lap ; hand jobs ; cum eating ; no prep ; clothed + unprotected vaginal sex ; very slightly public sex (in his office but it’s private) ; creampie ; implied multiple rounds ; not proof read

comments: whoever requested this was rly doing their big one for wrio nation. honestly was so kind and smart of them to do wrio and sex pollen. honestly they’re kind of a mastermind. honestly their brain is kind of big. (it was me. i requested this for wrio nation. but i wasn’t banking on being the one writing it in the end so i can’t promise i did my big one with the writing. also since i sponsored this myself i give myself permission to exceed the word count limit LOL)

Sigewinne’s book (that he borrowed without asking) says the following:

Lumidouce Bell: A serene and tranquil violet flower. It has a light, soft, and lasting scent and is often used for making luxurious perfumes.

Wriothesley reads the words over and over. Luckily, he’s just about smart enough to start piecing together what’s happening without having to consult the head nurse. That would be another nightmare of its own that he’s unwilling to suffer through.

None of this would have happened if he didn’t go up to the surface. Wriothesley hardly ever goes up to the surface. He thinks after today, he might never go up to the surface. If there’s still some form of divine power that’s presiding over Fontaine, it must really have it out for him. This afternoon was supposed to be his attempt at being a sincere, thoughtful, romantic boyfriend. It was supposed to just be a picnic.

Unfortunately, it was not just a picnic.

He decides that starting now, romance is dead, chivalry is six feet under in a coffin, and sunlight and vitamin D can be damned in hell—he’s staying underwater where rusted metal and dingy lighting is the most that can bother him.

You’ll just have to get used to the musky odor of leaking pipes. He’s sure you’ll understand.

“You know, you seem kind of flushed,” you frown, “are you coming down with something?”

The way your hand flattens against his cheek is just cruel. (Innocent and well natured, of course. But by default, based on his rather dire circumstance right now, it’s cruelly poor in timing to have your touch press against his embarrassingly heated skin).

“No,” he croaks, gently swatting your hand away. You frown, eyeing him disbelievingly as he clears his throat. “Th-think I was just allergic to some of those flowers, that’s all.”

Allergic is certainly one way of putting it.

There’s rumors that during a certain season, lumidouce bells make for a rather…alluring perfume scent. Wriothesley has always chalked it up to just that: a rumor. He’s always thought those borderline raunchy advertisements about attracting people to you just by scent alone was a marketing tactic meant to scam people out of their hard earned mora through sex appeal.

Now, he’s starting to think maybe the rumors had some truth to them. Maybe lumidouce bells do have a peak season for harvesting. Maybe they do make for an alluring scent. Maybe they’re the reason for his uncomfortably tight pants and concerningly heated skin.

“Wriothesley, I don’t think it’s just allergies,” you press softly. He’s a bit stubborn when it comes to admitting he’s sick—he can tell from the look on your face, you’ve chalked it up to that. “Maybe we should have Sigewinne take a look at—”

“No!” He practically shouts. You recoil, blinking at him (and perhaps, his audacity) as you register his volume. Maybe there is still some form of divinity looking over him that doesn’t seem to hate him completely because you seem more concerned at his rather panicked tone than the fact that he’s raised his voice at you. He clears his throat and tries again. “I…uh, I don’t need Sigewinne for this. I’m sure she’s busy, anyway. Best not waste her time.”

He flashes you an unconvincingly tight smile.

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “You’re sweating uncontrollably.”

“It’s the middle of summer and we’re surrounded by faulty mechanics in this fortress, can you blame a guy for sweating through his clothes a bit?”

You stare at him and blink. “You’ve been weirdly fidgety, too.”

“You’re just so beautiful, I can’t help it. You know what they say—every day feels like the first time with the right person.”

This time, the smile he flashes you is a tad bit flirtier that you almost believe it. Almost.

With an exasperated sigh, you pull his chair away from his desk—much to his dismay—and move to grab him by the arm, “c’mon, Wriothesley. Sigewinne isn’t going to drop dead if we add one more patient to her….oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks bitterly. Your eyes have seemed to be caught on his very clear, and very obvious problem. The painfully erect bulge in his pants (that are tight enough to not do him any favors) is clear as daylight.

He really fucking hates the over world right now that if he never seems daylight again, he thinks he won’t be too sad.

And to add insult to injury, he’s leaking pre cum just enough that there’s a slightly visible dark patch over his crotch, the fabric damp and sticky enough that he wants to peel them off of his body.

You stare…and stare…and stare for a couple of agonizing moments before murmuring, “honey, if you were pent up, you could’ve just said so.”

He closes his eyes and fights the urge to pinch his nose in distress. “That…that’s not it.”

“I don’t know,” you say, staring pointedly at his little problem. “You seem pretty frustrated to me. It’s not like I’d complain about taking care of it.”

The words come out a little cheeky at the end. Despite it all, there’s at least a sliver of amusement he can enjoy from this as he cracks a strained chuckle.

“I’m well aware of that,” he mumbles hoarsely. “But…it’s not…this isn’t so simple. Not this time.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion before tilting your head in confusion. He really doesn’t want to have to explain this tragic, unlucky misfortune he’s forced to endure right now, but something gives him the hint that you’re not going to drop this until he either tells you himself, or has Sigewinne come to a conclusion and share her findings.

The latter seems like pure torture compared to the former option, so he resigns himself to his fate.

“Okay…” you trail off, “what is it? You can tell me, you know.” The second part comes out softer. Gentle enough that when coupled with the slow circles your hand rubs into his bicep, he relaxes just a little.

“The flowers,” he grunts. He sounds like he’s pained just from saying it. “They…you know?”

“…I’m not following,” you shake your head. “You’re allergic?”

“No,” he runs a hand through his hair and sighs, closing his eyes as he begs the Gods for a way out. Unsurprisingly, the Gods do not answer. “You know how we were laughing about those perfume ads? That always hint that lumidouce bells in summer smell extra tempting?”

You crack a smile at the memory, giggling as you nod. “Yeah, what a ridiculous scheme,” you snort, “mystérieux et sensuel. These marketing teams really have no shame.”

Your voice mocks the slogan, and he barely chokes back an embarrassed whine.

“Y-yeah, well remember when I smelled one of the flowers as a joke?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head in fond amusement, “you’re shameless too, you know. Is there anything you don’t do for some—”

“I…I don’t think the perfume ads were lying,” he just barely chokes out.

You pause. It’s like he can see the cogs in your brains turning, the rotational force of one gear powering the next until there’s a fully functioning machine that is your mind. And suddenly, as if in slow motion, he watches as the realization sketches itself onto your face.

He hopes the Gods hear his prayers for a sudden death. But he doubts they’re even up there listening to him at this point.

“Oh…” you breathe. “So you’re hard because of the flowers?”

“Sweetheart, please don’t make me answer that,” he rubs his face in exhaustion as he slumps back against his chair and accepts that he’s pretty much just killed his dignity and shattered his ego in one afternoon.

“Okay,” you nod, eyeing him carefully. And then, with a twitch of your lips that seems suspiciously difficult for you to fight back, you add, “I guess you don’t really need to answer that. The evidence is right there.”

Your eyes gesture at his evidently hard cock. Sure, Wriothesley has fucked you plenty of times. And yes, most of those times consist of him being completely exposed to you in the nude. And of course, intimacy in that form means that his body will have a natural response that is rather visible and is something you’ve seen many times over.

But this makes him feel oddly exposed in a way he’s not used to. And he’s still fully clothed for it, too.

“Don’t stare,” he mumbles, words muffled by his hands as he buries his face into them and groans. “Close your eyes.”

“I don’t know if I want to do that,” you hum. Slowly, his chair gets pushed back more, making room for you to climb onto his lap and straddle his hips.

He gaslights himself for his own sake that the sound pulled from his throat as your body presses against his erection never happened. It’s all in his head. None of this is real. He’s seeing this in the form of hallucinations in his dizzy, hazy, sex-induced head that can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake because his reality is tilted on its axis and distorted completely.

(It’s a lie, of course. If anything, his senses are extra heightened and he’s more hyper aware of everything than usual, but believing in his false fantasy is more comforting than facing the truth. He deserves this much for being the Gods’ least favorite, at least.)

“You could’ve just asked me to help, you know,” you murmur, chuckling as you kiss along his jaw. He groans, tilting his head back involuntarily and making room for your lips to explore his neck. “Wouldn’t have had to suffer through those hot flashes if you just used your words.”

“Forgive me,” he mutters sarcastically, “it’s not every day you get aroused against your will by the pollen of some weirdly perverted flower.”

“I don’t know if flowers can be perverted,” you tease, “they don’t have feelings.”

“Well, I do,” he grumbles, “and my feelings are not happy.”

“I can change that,” you grin cheekily.

And with that, comes the sweet, sweet feeling of relief as your hand unbuckles his belt expertly and frees his strained cock. Any other time, and he’d make a smug, teasing comment about how you’re a little too good and too quick at undoing his belt and buttons, but he’s not in any position to do any mockery today. So, instead, he keeps his mouth shut as he inhales sharply at the cold, frigid air that hits his hot, swollen cock.

“Baby, wait—fuck,” he curses as soon as your thumb smears the dribbling pre cum, body tensing under you a you coat his length with his own mess. When your hand wraps tightly around him, giving a slow, teasing stroke, he all but whimpers as his hips involuntarily buck up into your touch. “Oh Gods,” he groans.

“It’s warmer than usual,” you observe as you stare down at his length in your hand. He opens his eyes to throw you a weak glare at that.

“Can you have a little sympathy for my predicament and not make such horrifying observations out loud?”

“Sorry,” you laugh, pecking his lips, “I’ll say them in my head.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” you murmur, scattering gentle kisses along his face as your hand tightens around him and strokes at a steadier, quicker pace.

He throws his head back, letting his jaw hang loose as free, throaty moans fill the air of his office with every up and down motion of your hand. Your lips are kind though to find his mouth and drink up his sounds, muffling them and quieting the unnaturally high volume they seem to take today.

“F-fuck,” he pants, “sweetheart, faster. Please.”

“Wow,” you hum at he plea, “these flowers must be good. They have you using your manners in the bedroom.”

“We’re in my office,” he hisses, clenching his jaw as your thumb traces along the thick vein along the side of his cock, “you didn’t even give me the courtesy of making it to the bedroom.”

“You didn’t really seem like you had the energy to stand.”

Well, he thinks, you make an aggravatingly good point. When this is all said and done, he’ll make sure to repay your clearly well-amused comments with some kindness of his own. But for now, his hips frantically buck up to meet your pace as you let him practically fuck your fist.

It’s a bit of an embarrassingly short period of time before his cock is twitching in his hand and his breaths come out in erratic huffs. The telltale signs of his orgasm are ones you know pretty well, so your grip tightens and your pace quickens like electro meeting dendro before he’s gripping your hips tightly to ground himself as an earth shattering force weaves through his whole body.

His muscles stiffen and his jaw slacks as he quivers under you, letting out a muffle whine against your lips as you kiss him through his high to quiet him—the last thing either of you needs is to add to his already blown ego and have someone overhear your business from outside his door.

“Ngh, sh-shit, baby,” his voice cracks, “you’re so good. So, so good, you know that? So fuckin’ good at that—don’t stop.”

“You’re extra nice when you’re needy,” you hum, one hand working his cock through his peak while the other finds the sweaty locks of dark, messy hair to card through.

“You’re extra rude when I’m suffering,” he shoots back.

“I’m sorry,” you say—it’s not very apologetic at all. He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he slowly catches his breath after he finishes spilling his seed into your hand.

“No you’re not,” he narrows his eyes accusingly.

You have the heart to at least attempt to make your wounded look seem real as you pout and protest, “I am! See?”

And, as if to prove to him that you are, indeed, sorry, you bring up your soiled hand to lick a strip of his cum off your finger, making his breath hitch in throat before he groans.

He’s already twitching back to life between his legs at the sight. It’s unnaturally fast, that you and he both know it has to still be lingering effects. The pollen is still rooted in his system, blossoming petals of desire all through his skin with thorns that pinprick at his sanity.

This is going to be a long afternoon, he thinks. You don’t seem even a little upset by it, though.

“I’m gonna need a better apology than that,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in to press a kiss right under your ear and grinning as you shiver slightly at the feeling of his breath against your skin.

You didn’t smell the flower or inhale the pollen. But that doesn’t mean the apex of your thighs aches any less after this whole ordeal—in fact, there’s a rather obvious dampness between your own legs that Wriothesley is cutely aware of. His fingers weave between your thighs to press against your clothed cunt, brushing against your clit through the damp fabric as you gasp.

He chuckles, you glare.

“And I think I have an excellent idea of how you could apologize, too,” he winks.

He feels at least slightly better. Even if not completely free of the after effects of breathing in something so strong, he’s at least cleared his head enough to start teasing you again. You’re too desperate to feel him to really care about winning back the upper hand.

You just want to feel him.

Something tells you he just wants to feel you, too.

Two strong hands lift your hips up just enough to slide your skirt up and slip your panties down, exposing your dripping cunt and holding you up to line up your entrance with the thick tip of his re-hardened cock.

“And what would that be?” You blink through thick, batted lashes, eyes dark and hazed with lust as you stare at his own dilated pupils. He hums, teasing your folds over his tip to coat himself with your essence as you bite your lip and shudder.

“I’m sure you could figure it out,” he says weakly.

For all of his smooth words, Wriothesley is dangerously impatient right now. His palms are sweaty, his jaw is tense, and there’s a scrunch in his brows that signals he doesn’t want to wait for what he wants. What he needs.

So you plant both hands on either of his shoulders and slide yourself down his thick girth, letting him split you open as you take him one slow inch at a time. You both inhale sharply at the same moment—you for the intrusion of his length, and him for the tight, warm pressure your walls surround him with.

He’s heard people say that lumidouce bells represent a wish for reunion. He’s starting to think that every whisper he’s heard about this odd plant is fascinatingly true—this reunion of your bodies is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever not wish for.

It’s hot. The air of his office is stuffy, the clothes you’re both still wearing cling to your sweaty bodies, and warm puffs of air between you both as you breathe suffocate you with a dizzying heat.

You sink down and take the final inches of his thickness, feeling him press so deep into you, you think you can feel him in your lungs with every breath you take. He obstructs your air, winding you completely into a breathless mess as you cling to his shoulders, pressing against his chest and latching your lips to his neck in something to distract yourself with as you adjust to accommodating his size.

“Fuck,” you whimper, “s’too big.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” he chuckles, rubbing the small of your back, “you got it—we always make it work, don’t we?”

You nod, shivering as his hands wander from your back to your ass, giving a light squeeze as he groans at the slight clench of your pussy.

“Ready?” He hums.

“Ready,” you nod, finally used to the stretch. It’s not new, but it’s not exactly something you ever get used to.

“That’s a sweet girl,” he coos. “Always so good to me. Always have you to take care of me, don’t I?”

You nod furiously, rolling your hips as you desperately bounce on his cock, trying to angle him to hit the back of your walls where you need him most. “Yes,” you murmur breathlessly, “yes, you…you always have me.”

“So sweet,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Spoiling me rotten, sweetheart.”

His hands squeeze at your hips before firmly lifting you up, almost enough to pull you off of him completely before pulling you down, slamming his tip into the spongy, sensitive spot in your walls that was you whining. He angles you just right—doing the work so you don’t have to yourself, even from under you. You can feel him pulsing in you, the dull throb shared between the heat of both of your legs.

Somewhere along the way, your lips meet his in a messy, heated kiss. Your lips glide against each other, tongues meeting in a breathless exchange as your hips move at the same time as his strong grip pulls you against him. He guides you easily, setting a quick, steady pace and positions you to bounce on his cock so he brushes against every sensitive spot along your quivering walls.

One thrust of your hips. Two. Then three. A fourth, and you’re letting out a shrill squeal as his thumb finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing harsh circles until finally, you fall apart on his cock. Tight, fluttering walls that spasm around him, squeezing relentlessly as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Wriothesley,” you moan, chanting his name through muffled whines against his mouth. He groans, breath catching in his throat in a choke before he spills into you a second time—the feel of you coming undone around him triggering his own release.

“Baby, ‘m cumming,” he mumbles into your mouth, “fuck, you feel good.”

Warm, sticky ropes of cum paint your walls like they’re a blank canvas. You can feel them fill you with every twitch of his cock, your hips rolling lazily in a sloppy attempt to help him through his peak while he grips your waist tightly and squeezes, holding onto you to keep himself grounded.

“Come on,” you whisper, “you look so pretty when you feel good, Wrio.”

He shivers at that. Your quivering walls milk him until he’s shuddering under you, breathless pants and low groans filling the air of his office.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he slumps back against his chair and you slump against his chest, catching your breaths as you finish.

“Was that apology enough?” You whisper, out of breath as your sweaty forehead presses against his.

He lets out a low chuckle, collecting a bead of sweat from your temple with his thumb as he murmurs, “not quite. I think I need some more convincing before you’re forgiven,” he whispers.

His voice is husky against your ear. There’s no sign of a softening cock in your cunt, still hard and throbbing as ever.

You huff out a breathless laugh as you respond, “then let me convince you some more.”

Any grammar errors or typos aren’t my business. That’s between my fingers and the keyboard don’t ask me what happened I just work here