#how to grow strawberries from seeds

[scifigeekgirl]

Headcannon about Tech: He's the friend/partner who if he gets into a hobby with you then by next time you see him he will be am expert in that field.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“I just can’t believe it Si…”

“I know, lovie. Me either.”

“They’re so perfect…” you mumble dreamily, only half aware that you’re still going on about the sight in front of you, an overjoyed smile stretched across your lips as you lean back against Simon’s strong, muscular chest. He has his arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting atop of your head as he also gazes down before you both. “I can’t believe we actually made them. We made these perfect little things…”

“Dunno about we, I think you’re givin’ me too much credit there.” He admits, adjusting to press a quick kiss into your hair, craning his head so that now his cheek is smushed against the crown of your head.

“Don’t sell yourself short mister,” You laugh, leaning your head back to try and catch his eye, reaching a hand up behind you to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, earning a satisfied hum in return, feeling the vibration of it going through his chest into you. “You definitely were a part of the process, Simon. Couldn’t exactly have planted those seeds myself.” You add with a wink.

“Oh I remember, love, I was there.” He chuckles as well, his eyes meeting yours, the overwhelming feeling of pure contentment radiating off you both, the love he has for you reflected back at him in your own shining gaze. “You that did all the hard work though. Growin’ ‘em til they were ready.”

“Yeah but they’re our babies, Si.” You insist, his grip tightening around you at yours words.

“That they are. That they are.” He agrees, glancing down at the baskets set before you.

A moment passes where you continue to hold onto one another, enjoying the bliss that is existing alongside each other, feeling the other breath, heart beats falling into rhythm, both simply appreciating the view in front of you. Though you can’t see him behind you, Simon’s smile is wavering, unsure how to pose his next question, not wanting to sound as though he’s making fun of you.

“We are going to use them at some point though, right?”

“Eventually.”

“M’not sure how long berries last, lovie. And Johnny’s countin’ on that pie we said we’d-”

“Simon,” you cut him off. “Johnny’s damn desert can wait. I’m admiring my children.” You decide, casting another glance towards the baskets full of fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries you’d spent so long growing, the very literal fruits of your labour, the first successful pickings from the garden you and Simon planted outside your new home.

“Oh, so they’re your children now, are they?” He teases.

“If you’re talking about eating them so soon then yes, I will take custody.” You joke right back.

“Why’re you so gorgeous when you’re bossy?”

“Probably a side effect of the military, my love.”

“Well maybe we can look at having me plant a different kind of seed soon, aye? Kind that takes about nine months to grow?”

[sheepwavehdg]

some HDG story recs out that aren't the most super popular stories you'll easily find by asking anyone or easily find via metric ranking. all are on the shorter end, and readable in a day if not a single sitting! a great list for some hidden gems.

Reading the Leaves by Kanagen: a tea shop romance story about a mostly mute protaganist trying to make the perfect cup for an affini she is down bad for.

Behind the Veil by shitpostleft: IMO, the hottest oneshot in the entire setting. It follows rebecca trying to talk to her affini boyfriend about why he put a notice of intent to domesticate on her.

A Beast At Bay by Raeisteria: Affini beat each other up! this one starts as a shonen battle arc and then changes. you should read it, and do so blinndly, you will not regret it (but you will probably cry)

Strawberry and Willow by immaterial_vivi: the typical HDG rebel capture scenario is turned on its head, in the sense that the story is mostly from the affini's perspective.

Core Carving by Stimulacrum: a second person affini POV story about coming home and letting your floret be the one to take care of you for a bit.

A Part of Who I am my MoonFloret: its hdg romance, but transmasc yaoi instead of transfem yuri! it rules!

Last Man Standing by Tsunmene: the single funniest HDG story I have ever read, about a seed desperate to get forcefemmed who keeps barely missing getting captured by the affini no matter how hard they try.

Force Majeure by ashinbloom: the most devastating gut punch of a story ever put to the page in HDG, about a very autistic girl and the woman who wishes she could take care of her like she wishes. this one hurts real good.

Florets of a Feather by Promilie: a biology student who was forcibly drafted into the navy gets domesticated and must learn to live with her connivent, a feathered catlike xeno called a khetari. has illustrations in many chapters! (Promilie is one of the settings absolute best visual artists.)

A Date with Miss Laburnia by PyxxieStyxx: a bratty terran goes on a date with an affini in chastity and things escalate.

Mistress's Imperative by mirrorgare: submissive affini/dommy floret vignette series

Growing Periwinkle by belenen: a depressed terran volunteers for domestication and becomes part of a very kinky social circle.

Pencil by sheepwave(me): a comedy-hypnoerotica adaptation of the "mistress can you turn me into a pencil" meme into a full oneshot its my list i can include one of mine

Thought I'd See You Again by fluxom: an escaped floret has been on the run for a year, but now an affini just won't leave her alone...

Puppy Paws by Moonchild: actual petplay! in hdg! i know, its crazy. also this story is insanely hot.

The Place Where We Can Stop Running by Dame Harmony: ok I lied about them all being short. this one is long, but its so good. you need to read it, you need to read it blind, knowing nothing, and you will not regret it. it's one of the best stories in the entire setting.

[jasvtsc]

favorite lollipop

you were laying on the bed, flipping pages in some fancy fashion magazine, rocking your feet back and forth while sucking on a strawberry lollipop. you were wearing white panties and a short top in the same color because of how stuffy it was in the room.

ben emerged from the bathroom, only wearing his boxers and already blowing a cloud of smoke from his joint, a displeased scowl on his rugged but totally fucking handsome face.

“fuck me. this fuckin’ weather is insane. it wasn’t so fuckin’ hot back in my day in the middle of fuckin’ october. my balls are already fuckin’ sweating for fuck sake,” he grunted while you lost the count of fucks already on the second one.

“global warming,” you hummed, the lollipop leaving your lips with a loud pop, which was enough to gather his attention.

he raised his brows, appreciating the view of your barely covered ass he was pounding barely an hour ago, and hummed to himself. but then he grumbled again and clicked his tongue, taking a hit.

“global warming, my ass. just a fancy panties fuckass name a bunch of pussies came up with,” and you just rolled your eyes, not in the mood for lecturing him about it. you already tried and this guy was worse than a goddamn mule.

“it’s an actual thing, ben,” you sighed, putting the lollipop back in your mouth.

he scoffed once again and approached the bed, hovering over you, joint hanging from the corner of his mouth as he crossed his arms on his muscular chest.

“don’t get smart with me or i’ll actually fuck you in the ass,” he pointed his finger at you, while you rolled on your back, letting the lolly out with an obnoxious pop.

“that a threat?” you grinned innocently, tilting your head to the side.

he smirked and scoffed, taking a good look and almost immediately noticing your nipples hardening under the fabric of your satin top. he inhaled from the joint, keeping it in his lungs for a moment and then exhaling while shamelessly palming his growing erection.

“keep playin’ with that fuckin’ candy like that and the next thing you’re gonna have in your mouth will be my cock,” he growled and the way you licked your lips made him twitch. “you’re a fuckin’ tease.”

“and you love it,” you hummed and then giggled, provocatively sucking on the lollipop.

soon enough, you were bopping your head up and down, tears gathering in your eyes and your panties already having a damp spot. he was fucking your mouth, your hair in a firm grip of his fist as he moved your head however he pleased. he groaned in contentment each time your nose hit his pelvis, your saliva dripping down his thick length as you kept drooling.

after what felt like eternity, he stilled your head and pulled away with a devilish grin.

“now, open your mouth babydoll and swallow like the good girl that you are,” he cooed mockingly, watching you lick your swollen lips covered in drool and precum. then, you eagerly opened them again and he spilled his warm seed on your tongue. “and you better fuckin’ swallow this time,” he added, quickly pushing your chin up and keeping your mouth covered with his rugged palm to make sure that not even a drop left your pretty lips.

looking up at him, you swallowed his creamy essence to which he smiled and began stroking your hair.

“such a good girl. always doing such a good job, sucking her favorite lollipop. but the next time, daddy’s cum gonna go in a different hole to keep you all warm. you like that? you like being a dirty little girl, dripping with daddy’s cum?” he snarled, stroking your lower lip with his thumb.

and you just nodded eagerly, feeling your panties stick to your soaked pussy.

[beautyandhealthtips123]

Cutting Strawberries In Half

One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste. See more...

[thetxtdevil]

i don’t want to bother…. but im itching to know if you have some more thoughts of strawberry reader and berry kai. im having withdrawals and love that fic so much. thinking of berry kai cumming in strawberry reader soooo much and getting her knocked up. im mind is feeling fuzzy thinking about it OOOH😵‍💫

I'm so happy with my Strawberry Shortcake fic's outcome. Glad you all are enjoying it :))

content: MDNI/NSFW, lots of suggestive details, breeding kink, groping, inaccurate depiction of lactation and pregnancy

The newly found hobby of both Blueberry Boy!Kai and Strawberry Shortcake!You are having you guys doing it anywhere, anytime, in any position. Although you guys weren't the only ones, it seems that Strawberryland's innocence has suddenly tarnished...

Hitting you from the back on the kitchen counter while making your sweets. Doing it in the dressing room in Angel Cake's fashion shop. Riding Kai on the living room floor after he serenades you with a beautiful guitar melody. Sneaking into the bathroom during Frosty Puff's holiday party only to find it preoccupied with Cherry Jam and Watermelon Sorbet.

His cute nose traces the curves of your body, getting a whiff of your intoxicating cake batter scent. While his tongue laps up the sweet, mouth-watering taste of your strawberry skin. You filled the blueberry boy's senses so much that everything became blurry. All he wants to do is to kiss you, love you, eat you up, and fuck you raw.

Strawberryland doesn't have Sex Ed so how was Blueberry Kai supposed to know he was to wear protection? It's not like he would anyway... You were addicted to his blueberry scone cum just as much as he was addicted to the sight of his lilac cum leaking out of your puffy folds.

Constantly slamming his fruit seeds back into your cervix until your blushed cheeks were fully stained with tears. Your whole shortcake body is spent, sore, but always begging for more. There was no stopping Kai, especially when he sensed something different about you and your body...

You were baking more than usual and that's a lot, along with moving your bright crimson furniture throughout your house until it is just right. Becoming extra protective with what Apple Dumpling was doing, but also wanted her out of the house to play, so you could play with Kai while you were horny out of your mind.

Kai couldn't deny that your change wasn't affecting him. Your strawberry scent seemed to intensify even more. Once you two were alone, he stopped to admire your body under him. That's when he noticed, as big hands grazed your swollen breasts and grown plush tummy, You moaned loudly feeling Blueberry's fingers squeeze your sensitive nipple however, you weren't expecting to start to feel wet up there.

Both of you look in awe seeing pink liquid stream down the curve of your tit. The sign of your unexpected lactation made your cheeks glow the deepest shade of red. If Blueberry Boy Kai didn't think he'd be more addicted to you this proved him wrong.

"I guess Strawberryland will be welcoming a mixed-berry baby, hmm?"

Blueberry Kai didn't care that he had knocked up Strawberry Shortcake. In full honesty, he was proud. Kai would walk closer to you than he already did, his hands always rubbing your growing bump. His hands also would ride up to cup your sensitive breasts in hopes he'd get another taste of your addictive strawberry milk.

You'd fully give in to his touches. Leaning your head back, Kai kisses your neck, squeezing your tits watching the milk flow down your belly towards your now hidden cunt, and he would never let a drop go to waste. Kai’s blue tongue would lick you up like an ice cream cone, wanting all the flavors you provide. His muscle dancing along your nipple, a kiss on your baby bump, down to your hormonal needy cunt. 

Blueberry Boy!Kai and Strawberry Shortcake!You would be the cutest and sweetest parents to Mixed-Berry Trifle. There probably will be more to come…

Strawberry Shortcake -> full fic, thoughts

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio

[blackynsupremacy]

NEIGHBORHOOD

HOTTIE

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

cw: fluff and smut (18+ mdni)

hotneighbor!nicholas that just moved in next door to you. you heard from your neighborhood girlfriends that he was living alone, single, and utterly fuckable.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you curiously watch through the blinds of your window to see what the hype is all about. it’s definitely all true: your new neighbor was foine.

hotneighbor!nicholas whose muscles would flex as you observe him lugging the largest boxes of things he needed to unpack in such scorching weather. your thighs clench at the sight of the veins protruding on his arms. you didn’t miss the stains of perspiration forming on his pristine white tank top that outlined the toned muscles of his abdomen.

hotneighbor!nicholas who would stop whatever he’s doing when he sees you coming by with two glasses of homemade lemonade. he could use a break. plus, he thought you were a sight for sore eyes with that orange sundress, glowing melanated skin, healthy natural hair, and full glossed lips. you lived right next door, so it was only fair for him to take up your welcoming offer.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you find to be so charming. he loves the lemonade and your company. you both exchange basic information about yourselves, but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to throw some game. “if i’d known my neighbor would’ve been so beautiful, i would’ve moved a lot sooner.” he finds it cute at how bashful you get when he compliments you.

hotneighbor!nicholas who obviously asks for your number for “neighborly” reasons. you happily give it to him because it’s not everyday someone this hot was putting the moves on you like this.

hotneighbor!nicholas who subtly watches the rhythm of your hips sway beneath that sundress after you bid him a farewell, so he could continue unpacking. he wanted to talk to you longer. he wasn’t sure how, but he wants to get close to you as possible, as soon as possible. if you catch my drift.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d send you good morning and good night texts or he’d just simply check on you. you’d tease that it should be the other way around because he’s the new neighbor and you should be the one making him feel welcome. he’d be such a flirt. you can make me feel welcome in many other ways. 😉

hotneighbor!nicholas who you see taking daily jogs through the neighborhood early in the morning when you go out to get your mail. he wears nothing, but basketball shorts, a cross necklace, and some sneakers. you melt as the sweat of body leaves a heavenly shine on his tanned skin. he’s so built, so fit, so thick. god, the things you’d do to have him on top of you right now.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d ask if you like to take a jog/walk with him whenever you were available. you weren’t the exercising type, but there was no harm in it because you wanted to spend time with him anyway, so why the hell not? on those occasions, you’d get to know each other better. you’d wear a sports bra and shorts that nicholas would find to be ravishing on you, but he’d think you’ll look better without them.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d help you out with various tasks like gardening. he had a green thumb, so he was a huge help to you when you wanted to plant some fresh strawberries. you love to watch him till, dig, sow seeds, and water the fruit, so it would grow to be the reddest, ripest strawberries for picking, washing, and eating.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you invite over to your house to make treats such as strawberry shortcakes or just to dip them in chocolate sauce while streaming a show on hulu or netflix. he’d use his thumb to swipe away any whipped cream or chocolate from the corner of your lip then suck it right off in front of you while holding his intense brown gaze with yours.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d watch you from his bedroom window as you’d strip your clothes before going into the bathroom to shower. he couldn’t see your actual naked body, but he’d see the shadow of your nude silhouette outlining the shape of your breasts, the erected point of your nipples, and the curve of your hips and ass. it gets him rock hard every time and he’d have to take care of it himself.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you watch practice throwing a football in his backyard shirtless. his arms are massive. you imagine what it would feel like having them secured around your waist. he could’ve went to the pros, no question, but you’re lucky that you get to see this up close and personal instead of a loud, crowded stadium.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you go to for help when your car wouldn’t start. you didn’t mean to interrupt him as he was looking like a greek god while bench pressing what seemed to be a weight of 150-60 lbs. he doesn’t mind helping you because he knows the basics, so he comes over promptly with some tools to see what’s under the hood. you spectate as he meticulously rummages and moves within the car.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s so focused in finding the root of the issue. his brows are furrowed and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth while his hands move like clockwork. you notice a piece of hair fall from in front of his face and he attempts to blow it out the way, but to no avail. you take it upon yourself to brush it back. he feels the lingering touch of your palm through his scalp, his mind already going to the gutter.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d ask for you to get your car keys after he’d find the solution and close the hood. he instructs you to get in the car and start it now. once you comply, the engine is purring like normal. feeling grateful, you sing your praises to him. “let’s see you have a green thumb and you’re a skilled mechanic. is there anything else your hands are good for?” you ask, crossing your arms. he’d give you a playful lopsided smirk with a flirtatious glint within his eyes, “they could do a couple things—that’s if you’re willing to find out.” he knew exactly what he was doing.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you invite over for dinner to repay him for fixing your car. you weren’t sure if you’d see this as a date, but you still wanted to make a good impression. you do your hygiene and you’d put on a black square necked top with a long black, floral slitted skirt around your waist. you prepare a spread of your speciality dishes and bring out your best wine.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s a gentleman that shows up at your front door with flowers. he cleans up nice with a black button up that’s slightly unbuttoned to show off his signature gold cross necklace with some levi’s, dress shoes, and a rolli on his wrist. damn! you graciously take the flowers and giving him a brief hug. it was short-lived, but inhaling his clean, musky scent while he places his large palm against the slightly exposed small of your back had you feening.

hotneighbor!nicholas that enjoys every single thing that you’ve cooked for him. he’s so content in the meal, he informs you that when he settles down he hopes to have a wife that looks and cooks just as good as you. hopefully, you were picking up what he was putting down.

hotneighbor!nicholas who genuinely enjoys your company, your smile, your laughter, your humility, your confidence, your wit, your intelligence, your humor, your insight, your passion, your kindness, your empathy, your honesty, and your absolute everything.

hotneighbor!nicholas who tells you he’s now craving for dessert. oblivious to what he actually meant, you tell him there’s some leftover strawberries and chocolate sauce in the fridge, so you go to retrieve the items and go to prepare them on the counter with your back turned to him.

hotneighbor!nicholas who gets up from his seat at the table and saunters over to you to slide his large hands around your waist. a smirk rises on his lips as soon as you freeze from his touch. he bring his lips against your ear to whisper, “i’m craving something sweeter than that, doll.” he’d pull you in closer, so that the plushness of your ass would meet his hardened arousal.

hotneighbor!nicholas who peppers fiery kisses all around your neck. when you whimper out his name, it drives him to push aside whatever was in front of you on the counter. he turns your body to face him completely before hoisting you up on top, so that his lips could finally be attached to yours in a fervent kiss. your arms instantly wrap your his broad shoulders as he brings your legs around his hips while your tongues desperately swirl around another. you both had been waiting for this moment for weeks on end.

hotneighbor!nicholas who slides between the slit of your skirt to spread your thighs wider, so that he could rut his hips up against yours like an animal in heat. “you see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he rasped whenever his growing, stiff girth came in contact with your already damp center.

hotneighbor!nicholas who easily slips his hands beneath your skirt. his fingertips fidgeting with the waistband of your panties. he wants to dive straight in, but he won’t go further unless you verbally give him the green light. to him, you may be this sexy piece of ass that deserves some good dick thrown your way, but also you’re worthy of respect towards your boundaries in your house. he’s just being a good neighbor.

hotneighbor!nicholas who once he has your consent, deliberately slides your soaking underwear off for his thumb to instantly reward your clit with pressured circles. he chuckles as you beg him to delve his fingers inside of you. “damn, have a little patience, baby. m’gonna take care of you.”

hotneighbor!nicholas who wastes no time to slip his index inside just to stretch you out a little before his middle joins in the party. his thumb is still doing circles around your clit as his fingers curl and bump against the gushiness of your wet walls. with each moan of his name escaping your mouth, he gains in speed.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s a bonafide munch. he takes his fingers away and kneels down with his head right in front of your awaiting, wet pussy. he demands that you look at him as his tongue takes a deliberate lick against your dripping slit. your hands grasp onto his head for dear life as he makes out with your pussy. his tongue may move in varying speeds and shapes around your clit. it drives you crazy when he hums while shaking his head side to side rapidly to go as deep as possible while he gets you to your high. “ah, fuck, this pussy is the best thing that’s ever happend to me—want you to cum all over my face, baby. c’mon, give it to me.”

hotneighbor!nicholas who continues to remove the rest of your clothes until you’re completely bare. he stares, mesmerized because you’re more beautiful than he could ever imagine. you reciprocate the praise after you help him out of his clothes. he finds it so sexy of how crazy you are for him. you even make the man flush with red.

hotneighbor!nicholas who already has a condom ready, but you’re on the pill and you want to feel all of him, so you let him know he’s good to go.

hotneighbor!nicholas who shudders in ecstasy as he fills you up inch by inch until his tip mingled with the edge of your cervix. he gives you a moment to properly adjust to his size before he begins to give you the immaculate strokes of his skilled hips.

hotneighbor!nicholas who has the stamina of a sexually starved madman as you go for many rounds in different parts of your house. the counter, sofa, your bed, and lastly the shower. he takes you in different positions and angles that no man has ever done with you before and he’s made you cum first each time. he could go all night, but he sees that from being so fucked out and overstimulated, he decided it was time for some proper aftercare and a goodnight’s sleep in the nude. he was by far, the best fuck you’ve ever had. what are good neighbors for?

[illovehaileesteinfeld]

princess ~ caitlyn kiramman

based off a character ai bot by: @/ZaunsLooseCannon

~ * ~ * ~ pairing ; princess!caitlyn x maid(?)!reader

sfw. no use of y/n

long ass drabble 😭 : not proofread (as always)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

caitlyn was tired, exhausted even, after a day of visiting suitors, all ones that royally disappointed her; your promise before letting her go kept her going through the day.

helping the girl up the castle stairs to her bedroom, you let her lean against you, unlocking her door once the two of you had made it up to her room.

inside, set up on the small table, there were plates of fruit; juicy oranges and red strawberries, a bowl of pomegranate seeds and a spoon to help avoid the inevitable mess of fruit juice.

outside on the open balcony, she looked out to see what you had set up, gasping softly and feeling her heart warm as the small fort of blankets and pillows, a few candles lit as the sun had just began to set.

she looked down, meeting your eyes with slight tears in her own, oh so ready to relax with her favorite person after a long day of interaction with selfish men.

"you didn't need to do all of this" she said, her voice soft, a single hot tear falling down her cheek.

"shh, sh princess, you deserve more than this" you whispered, bringing her to her bedroom where there were clothes set out, a long tank top and some shorts. "now, change and meet me outside" you spoke softly, grabbing the plates of fruit and moving out to sit on the balcony, turned away from the window.

setting everything down, you smoother out a soft place for the princess to sit, tying your hair out of the way and unbuttoning the baby blue shirt you wore over a white tank top.

she came out a moment later, the sunset having already progressed as she sat down, wearing a soft smile. her body relaxed in the sea of blankets, sitting close to you and holding your hand.

"this is gorgeous.." she muttered, reaching to pick up a strawberry but stopped by your hand, looking at you slightly confused, but blushing when the fruit was brought up to her lips. she took a bite, the flavor of the berry melting on her tongue as she chewed.

"you deserve to relax, princess" you whispered, voice gentle as always when it came to her, leaning close to the girl and setting the base of the berry down when she was finished.

"you make me feel like i deserve the world, you know?" she muttered, her expression fully content with a small smile as you brought a few pomegranate seeds to her lips.

"because you do"

~ the night fell, most of the fruits eaten and the plates discarded across the balcony. the two of you had laughed what seemed like more than ever, talking about every little thing from her suitors to how a few stars in the sky looked like a cat; you both felt incredibly at ease.

as the moon was high up in the sky, you rested your head on the taller girls chest, cuddled up against eachother as always. you didnt know what exactly you two were, definitely closer than most friends but neither of you willing to go further.

inhaling her perfume, the scent had a rush of warmth running through your body, so familiar and sweet; something you would never forget, even in the next life and the one after that.

she hummed softly, rubbing a hand through your hair, both of you growing tired.

"this is perfect" she whispered, looking down and meeting your eyes with her own blue ones, a small smile on her lips.

"you're perfect" you whispered, nuzzling against her chest, fatigue finally setting in as her mere presence comforted you.

"..you make me feel perfect"

"good."

the quiet exchange meant more to here than visible, her heart melting at how effortlessly you made her feel happy, feel good, feel.. loved. she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, looking down and seeing your tired droopy eyes.

"get some rest, sweetheart" she whispered, only holding you tighter as you wore a sleepy smile, nodding slightly. there was silence for a few moments, her watching you and you reveling in her touch.

"caitlyn.?" you whispered, eyes opening slightly.

"hm?"

you leaned up, whispering gently in her ears "you deserve the world" you spoke softly, meeting her eyes and pressing a gentle, warm kiss to her lips as you leaned back down.

her cheeks went pink, and she knew that would be the first kiss of many.

"you give me the world" she replied, kissing your forehead gently, arms tightening around you as you both drifted off.

~ *

i miss my girlfriend so we get caitlyn fluff!!

taglist : @scott1shabbyand3rson @aanvime

@joel-girl

[breelandwalker]

Strawberry Moon - June 21, 2024

Grab your baskets and your moon jars, witches - it's time for the Strawberry Moon!

Strawberry Moon 🍓

The Strawberry Moon is the name given to the full moon which occurs in the month of June in the Northern Hemisphere. The name is taken from the ripening of those little red heart-shaped berries we find in so many summertime treats. Strawberries are typically ready to harvest beginning around the summer solstice, though this will vary depending on variety, planting times, and local weather. Sadly, the Strawberry Moon does not turn red or pink to match the berries.

Other European names for this moon include Honey Moon, Rose Moon, and Mead Moon. North American Indigenous names for the June moon include Blooming Moon (Anishinaabe), Green Corn Moon (Cherokee), and Hatching Moon (Cree).

This year's Strawberry Moon also roughly coincides with the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere, with peak illumination occurring at 9:08pm EST on June 21st. (The solstice is occurring one day prior, on June 20th.)

What Does It Mean For Witches? 🍓

Full moons are excellent times for bringing wishes to fulfillment and plans to fruition, all the more so under one named after a prolific berry. This is an optimal time to make things happen!

Your intuition may be stronger than usual during this time, so pay attention to those little inklings and gut feelings that won't be ignored. They might be telling you something important. Dreams may also be more vivid, though not necessarily more accurate or revealing.

This is a time to explore things that catch your attention or pique your curiosity, and to let yourself be open to new ideas and new opportunities.

What Witchy Things Can We Do? 🍓

With a full moon ripening in the sky and the summer solstice upon us, it's time to prepare for a full bloom. Here's hoping you've been nurturing those plans and seeds of growth you planted in the spring, because they're about to start flowering and the way is clear to sow the next stage of your plans. What they will be and what new prospects the summer will bring is entirely up to you.

The full moon is always a good time to look ahead to the future. Think on the plans you have in process and let yourself dream of how things might turn out. If you're inclined to journaling, make a note of how things are going so far and how you hope they'll turn out. Pick your favorite divination method and do a reading for the month ahead. (Make sure you write that down too so you can check back later!)

This is a great time to go berry-picking or flower-gathering, so check your area for pick-your-own farms or farmer's markets with local produce. Have a picnic with friends or just enjoy a quiet afternoon with your own thoughts and a few favorite treats. Make a jar of sun tea or a sweet and summery berry salad. If you're partial to strawberries, indulge that sweet tooth!

Strawberries are also excellent ingredient in spells for love, beauty, fertility, and emotional healing. Create a charm for self-love or perhaps to attract a summer romance. Enchant your favorite makeup or skin care products with a glamour of confidence. Just as expectant mothers once carried strawberry leaves as a folk remedy for pregnancy pains, you can carry a clutch of them in your pocket to help heal a broken heart or assuage the pain of grief. A packet of strawberry leaves is also a potent good-luck charm. Snack on strawberries to bring fertile abundance into your life, whether you're looking for creativity or opportunity or perhaps hoping to grow your family this year.

Charge your crystals and spell jars and moon water under the light of Strawberry Moon to catch the energy of blooming flowers, ripening fruit, wishes coming true, and carefully-laid plans realized. (If you're planning to use it for any consumables, please make sure you're using fresh, potable drinking water rather than rain or runoff.)

Spend a little time reflecting on how your year has gone thus far. Try to focus on the things that have improved and how you've grown as a person and in your life journey. Reflect on your accomplishments and what you plan to do next. Take a moment to be unashamedly proud of yourself for everything you've done and for making it this far despite everything life throws at you.

Happy Strawberry Moon, witches! 🌕🍓

Further Reading:

Bree's Lunar Calendar Series

Bree's Secular Celebrations Series

The Full Moon of June: A Special Solstice Full Moon, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Strawberry Moon Meaning: The Spectacular Full Moon of June 2024, The Peculiar Brunette.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison.

Image Source - Pesto and Margaritas

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[apoemaday]

Relax

by Ellen Bass

Bad things are going to happen. Your tomatoes will grow a fungus and your cat will get run over. Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream melting in the car and throw your blue cashmere sweater in the drier. Your husband will sleep with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling out of her blouse. Or your wife will remember she’s a lesbian and leave you for the woman next door. The other cat-- the one you never really liked--will contract a disease that requires you to pry open its feverish mouth every four hours. Your parents will die. No matter how many vitamins you take, how much Pilates, you’ll lose your keys, your hair and your memory. If your daughter doesn’t plug her heart into every live socket she passes, you’ll come home to find your son has emptied the refrigerator, dragged it to the curb, and called the used appliance store for a pick up--drug money. There’s a Buddhist story of a woman chased by a tiger. When she comes to a cliff, she sees a sturdy vine and climbs half way down. But there’s also a tiger below. And two mice--one white, one black--scurry out and begin to gnaw at the vine. At this point she notices a wild strawberry growing from a crevice. She looks up, down, at the mice. Then she eats the strawberry. So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat, slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely. Oh taste how sweet and tart the red juice is, how the tiny seeds crunch between your teeth.

[honeytonedhottie]

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE june edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the june catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

LIFE UPDATE ;

as you may or may not have noticed, i've been hiatus for most of the month now. and i disappeared because of personal reasons, and one of those reasons being that i felt i needed to reflect. here are some things that i've learned and realized during my reflection time.

in that post i go into things that i went thru during the month of june and the reason behind my absence. something that i mentioned but failed to elaborate on in that post was what i plan to manifest next and i'll talk about it later on in the post.

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

this summer is a hot one, and one way that i've been getting my vegetable and fruit intake is through smoothies. smoothies and juices are perfect for the summer because they're SO refreshing so im going to talk about some smoothie recipes.

adriana limas smoothie recipe ; (1 cup cold water + 1/2 avocado + honey). candice swanepoels smoothie recipe ; (1 frozen banana + 1 cup blueberries + 1 tsp protein powder + 1 scoop collagen powder + 1 tbsp chia seeds + 2 tbsp almond butter + 1 tbsp spirulina + 1 1/2 cup coconut water)

smoothies make amazing breakfasts or just amazing drinks to have when ur craving a sweet drink. for me, i like to keep my smoothies simple and use ingredients like strawberry and banana, but lately i've been loving mango in my smoothies.

LETS TALK MANIFESTATION ;

because of my period of reflection i had time to focus on what i wanted to manifest next and i wanna manifest a trip to italy for the summer + other mini things within that trip.

i've already created a script for it, and im gonna start affirming for it on the first of july. im so so excited to go and share this with you guys...💬🎀 furthermore i wanted to share some manifestation reminders and posts that have been helping me so far.

ABOUT WAVERING

YOUR NOT A VICTIM, YOU NEVER WERE

HOW TO IGNORE THE 3D AND BE UNBOTHERED

PATRICIA NAVIDAD STYLE DISSECTION ;

patricia navidad in “la fea más bella” is an over the top, feminine queen who i absolutely adore. she was easily one of my favorite characters so ofc i wanted to make this editions style dissection about her.

she has beautiful blondish hair that is similar to and complements her skintone, making her look super put together and gorgeous. she wears jewelry that she coordinates together. but my favorite outfit of hers HAS to be the one shown above on the left.

if theres one thing patricia knows how to do is to make her outfits work for HER which is why i thought she'd be the perfect candidate for this months style dissection...💬🎀

in this outfit shes wearing a matching pink set, the shade of pink is very soft and matches beautifully with the white (what looks like a corset-ish top) underneath. the color coordination is superb and she makes the shirt pop more by only using one button beneath her bust which draws attention to her figure and the top underneath.

THE CRINGE STIGMA ;

to be a victim to the cringe stigma is to be caged in ur own mind bcuz ur so scared of what others may or may not think of you. lets talk about it. the way others perceive u isnt ur business. lets think about how many times that you've stopped urself from doing something that u rly wanted to do, or something that you've really loved because u were scared of what others might say? imagine all that wasted time and energy worrying?

its not ur responsibility to keep urself small or digestible for someone. u can't grow where ur comfortable so to grow u have to get uncomfortable even if that means being called cringe by others. bcuz when others call u cringe thats their own projection onto you and it rly doesnt matter. dont take someone else's judgement too personally and just enjoy yourself no matter what...💬🎀

[rhad-barks]

here's some things i think we should do to prepare for the coming years:

• get to know your neighbors if you don't already. really talk to them, ask them what their plan is for getting through this. offer your support. community brings us strength, and if your neighbors know and like you they'll be willing to organize and take action with you! if you gotta break the ice first try doing something nice for them; offer them some baked goods or help them rake the leaves out of their driveway or something.

• become more self sustaining. start gardening edible plants such as herbs, greens, strawberries, or if you have the yard space go all the way and do all the fruits and veggies you want! share the products of those plants with your friends and neighbors, and share cuttings/seeds so they can grow some too. start learning how to sew so you can mend or even make your own clothes. learn crochet and you can make clothes, bags, blankets, and toys -- and you can donate those to people in need! wean yourself off of consumerism as much as possible, and share your skills with your community. they'll wanna share theirs with you!

• preserve your culture. i have a feeling that pretty much ANY progressive media is going to face heavy censorship and erasure, so i implore you to download your favorite queer & poc & antifascist movies/youtube videos, collect books & zines, save your favorite queer porn too. and YOU can personally preserve your culture by writing about it. write about what's happening, how you feel, how your friends and family feel, what you're planning. in the future they will try to whitewash and erase the severity of this era and we need to keep records to prevent that.

• educate yourself. go back and look at how queer, poc, and antifascist americans fought for their rights during times like this. learn from what they did and use it now. and PLEASE HONE YOUR CRITICAL THINKING SKILLS. do NOT take everything you read at face value, especially on the internet. question why things are written the way they are, question the reliability of the person telling you the stories they hear, question the sources and the proof. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPAGANDA.

• strengthen yourself mentally and emotionally. this might be the most important one on the list. if you are a more stable person, get ready to be there for others. if you're less stable, find that support system that CAN be there for you when you yourself can't. all of us need to find good coping mechanisms and be kind to ourselves and, most importantly, we need to be able to recognize when we're worn down from the stress of living like this so we can step back and rest. no one will benefit from you burning yourself down just to warm up others. we want you to feel supported too.

[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[gdjyho]

❝ecstasy❞ pt.3

- sypnosis ; jihyo calls jungkook, completely oblivious to him practically splitting open another woman in their bed. with his cock

- pairing ; jungkook x reader [kind of (?) established relationship]

warnings ; phone call during sex, nipple play, description of piercings and tattoos, fingering, pet names, squirting, cursing, pussy play, poor oblivious jihyo :(, cheating. mentions of drugs but not in the context of using them.

✭ ✭ ✭

“so gooood” jungkook drags out, as he throws your leg over his waist. he finds a way to get deeper, as if he’s not practically balls deep in you already. “more! ngh!” you demand, out of breath from the way he’s using you. your sweet voice fills his ears, making him grant your request. your mouth takes an wide shape as he hits the right spot.

he sees this happen, taking the opportunity to grab your love bitten neck and devour you with his lips. you stick your tounge into his mouth, his meeting yours and forming a knot. his hot saliva makes it’s way into your mouth.

you pull away form his hot lips,feeling the once cool metal form his lip ring leave an aftertaste in your mouth. it was strange, but you didn’t hate it. “ pretty baby” he mutters, as he finds your marking your way down his heavily tattooed arm, stopping at the eye and running your fingers along it.

buzz buzz. jungkook’s black phone vibrates on the night stand. he flips it over, wanting to see who was disrupting him from you. it’s jihyo. “i’m sorry it’s her”. you know exactly who he’s talking about.he reaches down to rub your pink, wet lips with his thumb. “can you stay quiet for me princess?” before you can utter a word, his phone and ear are connected.

“hello” he says sweetly, as if he’s not having another woman’s pussy on their bed. jungkook runs his fingers through his black silky hair, brushing away the bits which had been caught with beads of sweat. you catch a glimpse of his glistening forehead.

“yeah no, you can just get the strawberries from the market! the sweet ones” he beams, making him show off his bunny smile. you look up, causing him to force his fingers into your hair. he still fucking you. she’s so oblivious to all of this.

he shoves his dick into your sopping cunt, skin slapping noises growing louder and inner thighs getting stickier. “ okay bye” he looks down at the phone, watching her name fade away as she hangs up.

he slaps your ass, taking a moment to grope the jiggly flesh. “ you did so good for me, staying quiet. was it hard?” he mocks, toying at your sensitive bud. he traces around the skin of your nipple. you nod at his question, his actions forcing an answer out of you.

“words” he spits on his tatted up fingers, roughly pinching and rubbing at your clit. “yes it was h-hard” you moan out, guiding his hand to your sweet spot as you need your first orgasm of the night. you knew it certainly wouldn’t be your last one.

you get drunk on his cock, never wanting to come down from his constant high he gives you. you’re obsessed with him and how he never provides to serve up your orgasm on a sliver platter and leave you dumb on his dick.

he had ruined you, fucked you up. left you thinking he was the answer to all your problems. or was it what was between his legs that was the answer? and in turn, you did the same. the way your pussy took him so good, so tight, almost heaven for him. he could say that it was better than anything jihyo had ever given him.

your brain fogs up, pussy tightening up around his thick girth. he moans, watching your sweat covered produce all that cum. your squirt all over his hand, but that’s not it. he continues the thrust, searching for his own orgasm. you come down form your high, waves of pleasure wash over your body.

“fuck!” he cums, pulling out just in time to cover your stomach in this thick warm seed. he huffs, lifting himself of you. you’re a mess, not just in that moment. look at yourself, your selfishly addicted to someone’s boyfriends dick like a drug and the poor girl is so oblivious to all of it. what a shame!

- a couple of people were asking for a master list and tag list so let me know if you wanna be on the tag list in the comments !

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🌾 DEMETER: Goddess of Agriculture and Fertility, of the Harvest & Sacred Law, of the Earth, of the Seasons, Nourishment & Bread 🌽

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, the ground beneath you bursts with vegetation. You look around you and notice that among the vegetation, it’s your favourites. Your favourite flowers, fruit, vegetable, and plants. It’s almost like Demeter had been keeping an eye on you this entire time and this was her bouquet for you. A wreath of corn and plants sit upon your crown.

Your siblings cheer and help you take the bouquet of vegetation, taking the roots of each plant to be planted later on, and the rest is gathered. You’re introduced to your cabin and siblings with a small impromptu picnic of said-bouquet as you all break bread together. As you sink your teeth into the nearest food, it fills you with energy you’re not sure how to place other than it’s good. 

There are plants everywhere in your cabin and the inside of the cabin is almost like a botanical garden that is also never uncomfortable to sleep in. You look around and you see plants hanging from above and/or rising above. Your bed smells like earth and flowers, and there are vines curling up around the frames. As soon you touch the bed, your bunk bed bursts into your favourite flowers and plants, providing you a little bit of comfort. 

The wreath you were given hangs above your head and it remains fresh. It’s like a soft reminder of Demeter’s presence.

You help with the camp’s business of growing and maintaining the strawberries they grow, and you find out you and your siblings all get a small portion of the profits. It’s almost like an allowance for doing your chores. 

Being a child of Demeter, you get along with the children of Dionysus and Mr. D. 

You also get along with the dryads at camp, being the child of Demeter. There’s a sense of love and respect directed towards you. If you don’t know, you’re later told by one of your siblings, the dryads, or Mr. D himself. 

Let’s just say, Demeter is very, very terrifying and you know when they say to never mess with Mother Nature. 

Do not mistaken for weakness and unimportance as a child of Demeter. Demeter herself is powerful, and hopefully no one earns her ire. 

People might not find your particularly threatening, but know that when the time comes, your hand that has handled the tools that till the earth, is just as practiced as a sword. 

Flower power to the max. You can sprout the plants beneath your feet, from the smallest of weeds that can tear apart stone through their cracks, to the network of tree roots beneath your feet that grow and grow. Fungi are also on the table and boy, there's no way more terrifying then razing down enemies with the power of fungi. You carry an assortment of seeds with you and let me tell you, a whip made out of Rose thorns go hard.

You looked at the miniature garden beneath your feet. You quickly take in the fact the plants around you are your favourites. Your favourite fruits, flowers, herbs, plants in general. You can’t tell if it is the pollen or dust, but you feel your eyes prickling at the fact that maybe, Demeter had been keeping an eye on you when her claim brought about your favourites. 

You felt the wreath of corn grow on top of your head, the vines and leaves moving and parting your hair behind your ear. It is soft, gentle, and deliberate, almost like a mother’s touch. 

You see a bunch of campers take out shovels, spades, and other gardening tools and begin working at your feet, gathering the plants. A girl steps forward and she had her hands on her hips, giving you a smile. 

“Don’t worry about the plants. Each new child of Demeter’s claim is different and their plants are a representation of them, so we like to gather the plants to celebrate. My name is Katie Gardner, child of Demeter and cabin leader. Welcome!” 

You introduced yourself before catching some of the children of Demeter talk excitedly about what to make with the produce they had gathered. “So what’s going on now?”

Katie gently guides you to the Demeter Cabin as she explains. “To welcome each new addition to our cabin, we also like to hold an impromptu picnic if its early or late enough before meal times, and we use the plants from their claim as the centrepiece. This also lets us get to know each other, a bit of an ice breaker if you get what I mean.”

“That’s actually pretty cool” you said as she led you to your bunk.

“It is, right? I know we may not seem as cool compared to the other gods, but trust me, being a child of Demeter is just as great as the others. We’re just…more down to earth.”

The reaction you gave to Katie as she let out a laugh. “Got you right there” she giggled. “Come on, there’s plenty to show you!”

[daydreams-after-dark]

Hello this is so random but trivial I guess but you know, dicks cum a whole whole lot when they don't you know after a long time and even more when edged so imagine edging tied up sungie after a long time of not fucking just imagine how much cum he's gonna burst out

MDNI // MDNI // MDNI //

CW: oral (m rec), switch fem, switch jisung, p in v unprotected sex, creampie.

It seems subby, needy, desperate Sungie is back! It’s been a while I’ve written him like this, and this time he has a big build up of cum that he heeds relieving of.

OMG, I literally just read this from @elllisaaa that basically covers all of the above asks. It's so good, you have to go read. Consider it essential reading.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I love to imagine all the ways our desperately horny Jisung cums when he's been pent up for so long.

Usually it's because you've forbidden him to touch himself or cum. Sometimes you catch him dry humping a cushion just to try to get some friction, and hopefully rub one out without you knowing.

Today you've caught him on the couch grinding against your favorite strawberry shaped cushion.

"Sungie?" You look at him sternly.

He turns to you like a deer in the headlights, wide eyed and frightened. He gulps.

"Please baby, ple-ase!” He whines. "Please take care of me. It's been so long... fuck... it hurts, baby."

"Oh poor baby is all swollen and sore?" You pout. "I'd better take a look then. Pants off." You click your tongue and direct him to sit on the couch.

He rushes to do as you've instructed, almost tangling himself in the trouser legs, and plops down on the couch.

You suck in a breath. His naked body is always a sight to behold. Even now, with just being naked from the bottom down has your heart racing and your pussy growing wet.

You drag your gaze up from his beautiful legs, to land on his even more beautiful cock.

"Fuck." you mutter under your breath. He's so hard. His cock almost purple it's so angry, so ready to explode. It's going to feel so good inside you.

"Please, baby. Need you." He's almost in tears and his legs tremble.

You spring into action, immediately dropping to your knees. "I gotta taste you." You grip his cock, drawing a whimper from him. "But," you give him a warning look, "you can't cum until I'm riding you okay? I'm going to need you to be strong so you can fill me up later."

"Ngh... o-okay." He squeaks.

You spend a good fifteen minutes sucking him off, his dick leaking profusely from the way to torment him like you do.

"Nooo...I'm gonna... I can't hold back." he cries and squeezes his eyes tight.

You pop of his cock with a loud plop and look up. "Course you can hold on, baby. I'm gonna ride you now okay?"

You stand up and strip, slowly taking off every item of clothing. Jisung's eyes are blown out and you know he really has almost reached his limit.

"Alright, Sungie, I need you to stay strong. Just a little longer."

You straddle him and rub your dripping pussy along the length of his cock. "You ready, baby?" You whisper as you line him up with your entrance and sink down on him excruciatingly slowly.

He let's out a pained whimper.

"That's it. You feel so good. So hard. Fuck, Sungie, you fill me so deep."

You pick up the pace, rocking you hips back and forth. It feels so incredible to have him inside you. What he doesn't know is that it's agonizing for you making him wait like you do.

For a moment you wonder why you bother. But when you rock your hips in such a way he hits that spot causing you to clench, and you hear that choked cry and an "I'm cumming, baby!" you remember it's all worth it.

He cums hard, exploding inside you. His orgasm feels like it's lasting an eternity, pumping more and more of his seed inside you.

There's too much, and it leaks out around the base of his cock.

He gets so excited by how much cum he makes that something inside him flips and he's suddenly got you on all fours leaning on the back of the couch.

He fucks into you relentlessly, determined to push as much cum back inside you. "Gotta take it baby! Gotta keep it all safe for me." He growls.

You know he's hard again, and when he cums a second time, well, your couch is basically ruined. So much has leaked out of you onto the couch cushion.

Three more thrusts and your coming around his cock. He throws his head back and moans loudly. "So fucking hot. So tight."

Eventually he pulls out, kneeling down to spread your cheeks wide so he can watch the copious amounts of cum ooze out of you.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

They partake in a hot shower to clean all of that jizz off them... but the couch? Not sure that survived.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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