#vinegar hacks
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Vinegar is the ultimate cleaning product from laundry to counters even to window cleaning: https://honesthoneyreviews.blogspot.com/2023/05/the-power-of-vinegar-clever-hacks-for.html
#vinegarhacks #ecofriendly #HomemadeCleaningSolutions #SustainableCleaning
#GreenLiving #ChemicalFreeCleaning #ZeroWasteCleaning #PlasticFreeCleaning #CleanLiving
#vinegar#vinegar hacks#ecofriendly#homemade cleaning solutions#cleaning#cleaninghacks#house cleaning#kitchen#homestyle
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#sustainability#lemons#vinegar#cleaning solution#tiktok#tiktok hacks#cleaning hacks#brattylikestoeat#video
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ryo dyeing his gi orange
#ryo sakazaki#aof#kof#king of fighters#art of fighting#fanart#doll scribbles#ms paint#HC#he's using food colouring & vinegar#or whatever the hack is because he's not spending money on fabric dye#and it somehow turns out perfectly orange#it's his DIY troom troom life hack skills
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🥣
#one time many many years ago. im embarrassed about it so i'm putting the whole post in the tags btw#one time i cooked mexican rice with chicken from some mole. wrapped it all up in a thin layer of egg. then added the mole on top#in a bastardized version of omurice sdxfcgvh i'm sure it tasted totally different but like. i dont know what i was thinking actually.#i dont eat mole with egg i dont know why i did that#it's probably clear from context clues but i mean mole pronounced mol-eh not like. the animal#in more recent food adventures i ate lime chili shrimp maruchan the other day#with. milk peanut butter soy sauce honey lemon rice vinegar and sesame seed oil#it was really good actually! ive been googling ramen hacks for as long as ive had internet access#and i actually tried making peanut butter noodles like that but the only ingredient i had back then was the peanut butter#so the full experience was 👍 really good#1
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Wig Styling Tips | Top 30 Hacks for Beginners
Among people of all ages and backgrounds, wigs have become a popular fashion trend. With wigs, you can experiment with different looks, change your hairstyle without committing to a permanent change, or simply protect your natural hair. It can be overwhelming for beginners to get started with wigs. There is a lot to learn about wearing and maintaining wigs, from choosing the right one to choosing…
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#adjustment#baby hair#baby powder#baking soda#beauty#cornstarch#diy#dry shampoo#dryer sheet#fabric glue#fabric softener#flyaways#frizz control#hair oil#human#pantyhose#silicone mix#silk scarf#static guard#styling tips#synthetic#tea bag rinse#texture#vinegar rinse#wig cap#wig clips#wig hacks#wig steamer#wigs
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Surprising uses for vinegar
Surprising uses for vinegar
Vinegar is a commonly used ingredient in cooking. But it has many other uses in the home. It is remarkable to think that such a simple food item, may also be one of the most useful things in your home. The high acid content in vinegar makes it an excellent cleaner, as powerful as bleach, but much safer. White vinegar is the best to use for cleaning, as it is less likely to cause damage to…
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Transform cloudy glass vases with these expert House Cleaning tips from Los Angeles! Use household items like baking soda, vinegar, and even denture tablets to make vases sparkle again. With simple solutions for narrow-necked vases and stubborn deposits, you can revive every glass vase effortlessly. Say goodbye to murky water and grime — embrace fresh, clear vases every time!
#House cleaning#vase cleaning#glass vase tips#Los Angeles cleaning#cleaning hacks#baking soda cleaning#vinegar cleaning#cleaning experts#narrow-necked vase#denture tablets cleaning#home cleaning#DIY cleaning
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Fast Brain Booster Dietary supplement - weight loss
My Experience with Fast Brain Booster: Sharper Mind, Surprise Weight Loss Bonus!
I've always been a bit forgetful. Constantly losing my keys, forgetting names, the usual. It wasn't terrible, but it was frustrating. On top of that, I'd been feeling a bit sluggish lately, trousers a tad tighter than usual. I decided it was time to take charge of my health, both mentally and physically.
Enter Fast Brain Booster
That's when I stumbled upon Fast Brain Booster. The name intrigued me - a supplement that could boost brain function while aiding weight loss? It sounded too good to be true, but the reviews were promising. After a bit of research, I decided to give it a go.
Sharper Focus and Improved Memory
Within a couple of weeks, I started noticing a difference. That foggy feeling in my head began to clear. I could concentrate for longer periods, and recalling information became noticeably easier. Work presentations that once caused me anxiety became a breeze. My colleagues even commented on my newfound sharpness! It was fantastic.
Surprise Weight Loss Benefit
But here's the surprising part: I started losing weight. Not a drastic amount, mind you, but a steady, healthy decline. Now, I wasn't expecting this benefit at all. Fast Brain Booster wasn't marketed as a weight-loss supplement, so this was a welcome bonus. I did make some minor changes to my diet – cut back on sugary snacks and added some extra walks during lunch breaks – but nothing drastic.
A Well-Rounded Approach to Wellbeing
I believe the combination of ingredients in Fast Brain Booster might be the secret. It has a good mix of vitamins, minerals, and herbal extracts known to support cognitive function and metabolism. While I can't say for certain which specific ingredient is responsible for the weight loss, it seems to be working in tandem with the brain-boosting effects.
Feeling More Energized Overall
Overall, I'm incredibly happy with Fast Brain Booster. It's given me a much sharper mind and a welcome boost of energy. The unexpected weight loss is just the icing on the cake! It's not a miracle cure, of course, but it's certainly made a positive difference in my life.
A Word of Caution (Just to be Careful!)
As with any supplement, it's always best to consult your doctor before starting Fast Brain Booster, especially if you have any underlying health conditions. But for those looking for a natural way to improve their cognitive function and perhaps see some additional weight-loss benefits, I highly recommend giving it a try. You might be surprised at the results!
#weight loss#brain health#brain boosting diet plan for weight loss#brain reset and weight loss#brain food#weight loss and brain#weight loss and brain hack#supplements#apple cider vinegar weight loss#brain power#lose weight#set point and weight loss#diet and weight loss#weight loss diet plan#brain boosting supplements#women and weight loss#weight loss tip#weight loss tips#brain#dr mindy fasting for weight loss#weight loss transformation
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please i need women to understand that adding baking soda to vinegar is not a "cleaning hack". you just made weird water. women love posting on amazon reviews for actual cleaning products that it works better than their usual vinegar and baking soda potion. please. we are not beating the "bad at math and science" allegations like this
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A Kindness
summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?
pairing: ramsay bolton x reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 6.2k
a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🖤 my masterlist
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!
“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?”
Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.”
A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.
Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home.
Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well.
Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it.
Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement.
Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.
The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was.
Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk.
It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it.
“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.
You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face.
He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you.
“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”
Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings.
His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.
“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly.
“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does.
“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.
“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin.
“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks.
Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.
Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.
“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor.
“A… A great victory, master!”
“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”
Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare.
“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”
The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?”
He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you.
His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”
Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”
“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.
Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall.
“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.
Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded.
“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”
Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.
“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.
“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –”
Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately.
I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always!
“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”
Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything.
“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts.
“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.”
He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow.
You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours.
Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad.
Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.
Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer.
Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet.
A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone.
A kindness, even now.
Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly.
“Thank y – Ah!”
“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.”
The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head.
“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers.
A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”
The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!
You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center.
“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”
Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot.
He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter.
A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace.
All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow.
“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.
“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.
“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.”
He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.”
You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them.
Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way.
Not that he’d tell you that.
He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill.
“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”
“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again.
“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?”
Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip.
“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”
“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his.
“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”
You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same.
Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you.
“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”
“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”
“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”
Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.
Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers.
Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself.
“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises.
“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.
He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples.
You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm.
“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.
You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold.
He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine.
“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”
“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.
“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”
His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking.
“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.
He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives.
“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”
He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason.
Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his.
He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.
His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm.
“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.
Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.
“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend.
The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine.
Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her.
“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion.
After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore.
“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now.
He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again.
“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you.
“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say.
Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly.
Kind, even still.
A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close.
He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew.
A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips.
“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you.
Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else.
His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet.
He loves you, in his way.
tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess
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#my writing#ramsay bolton#ramsay bolton x reader#ramsay bolton fanfiction#ramsay bolton fanfic#ramsay bolton fic#ramsay bolton smut#game of thrones#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones fanfic#game of thrones fic#game of thrones smut#got#got fanfiction#got fanfic#got fic#got smut#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#smut#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf
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🦷 — share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear by
Life hack? Hm. I know a cool trick to get eyelashes out of your eyes. Apple cider vinegar is usually the missing ingredient in fatty stews or dishes to help clarify the flavor. If you exhale during painful things (waxes, shots, blood draws) your body relaxes and the pain isn't as bad as if you were tense. If you mirror someone's body language and word choices, they tend to like you more. Good coffee can be as simple as adding cinnamon or cloves to the loose powder before turning on the machine, regardless of the coffee quality.
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Rare Filo!Jon headcanons that nobody asked for
- fun Jon hack: if you gave him chocnut, he will break down crying
- people say he's really good at cooking but all he really does is throw soy sauce, garlic and vinegar in anything
- he has a magical singing voice but only when he's in front of a karaoke machine
- Jon takes those karaoke scores at the end of the song very seriously
- one time Martin tried it out with his shitty off-key singing and got a perfect 100 and that was the biggest betrayal in Jon's life
- sometimes, the word "ano" is mixed in his sentences when he's super stressed or tired
- his favorite desert is steamed rice with ovomaltine on top
- his other favorite desert is silk tofu drizzled with maple syrup
- whenever he's passing by untouched nature, he begrudgingly says "tabi tabi po"
- Jon may be willing to witness the Horrors of the world but he draws the line at manananggal
- he had a childhood fear of large clay vases
- he doesn't actually know how to speak Filipino
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okay, who's got a secret hack for poached eggs. I have tried vinegar in the water and gently lowering the egg in with a teacup; I have tried those strange silicone egg poachers, but even when these methods work I just get a little thin line of white around the yolk and water full of egg bits---there has to be something I'm missing here.
#I suspect that this is one of those things I am just going to have to do 1000 times#and on the 1001st try I will figure it out#but it annoys me when ''patience and consistent effort'' is the answer to questions.#no love sincerer than the love of food
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Jack and His Wife: A Retelling of "Jack and the Beanstalk"
Jill raced through the giant’s kitchen, clinging to Jack’s hand. A table towered over their heads. Chair legs stood like a forest of trees. Footsteps like thunder pounded beyond the walls of the room.
Before today, Jill had thought herself fearless, but those footsteps made her quake with terror. Jack, meanwhile, had never looked so capable. Was this tower of strength the fuzzy-headed dreamer who’d left their farm this morning?
Jack helped Jill to climb inside a cupboard taller than their cottage, then dragged the door closed behind them.
“We’re safe,” he breathed, holding Jill close in the darkness. “He won’t find us here.”
Through a crack in the door, Jill saw a giant enter the room—a coarse man, taller than any tree she’d ever seen. His face was red and knobby, his hair mostly gone. He threw himself into a chair with a noise like a thunderstorm and bellowed for his wife.
Jill whispered, “What are we going to do?”
“We wait,” Jack said. “He’ll eat his lunch, then he’ll sleep, and we can leave.”
Jill looked in awe at her husband. He was so steady. So sure. Where was the incompetent fool she’d married?
“You’ve been here before,” she realized. “All those days you disappeared and came back with food.”
Jack nodded. “I had to provide for you somehow. Everything else I’ve tried has failed.”
“You told me you’d hired yourself out to some local farmers.”
“He is a local farmer—directly above our cottage. I’ve done some odd jobs for his wife.”
“You never said they were giants!”
“Would you have believed me?”
Jill blushed. She’d have thought her idiot husband had turned lunatic as well.
She’d thought Jack climbed the beanstalk out of idleness—enjoying the view rather than working the land. She had followed him today out of frustration, thinking to drag him back to earth with scoldings and nagging. Instead, she’d found Jack braving a land of giants in the clouds.
In the oversized kitchen, the giant’s wife cooked a feast for her husband—entire cattle, flocks of chickens—but she never came near their cupboard. This hiding place was dark, cluttered with buckets, and smelled faintly of vinegar, but for now, it seemed safe.
Jack made a seat in a massive pile of rags, then settled Jill into it. “Rest while you can. We’ll need to be ready to run.” After making certain Jill was comfortable, he curled up on a thin patch at the edge of the pile.
He was so considerate. He was always considerate, Jill realized, but down on the ground, it annoyed her. His small courtesies seemed like pitiful apologies for the larger ways he failed as a husband.
Jill had fallen in love with Jack’s dreaming ways. He’d been charming and convincing, overflowing with grand hopes for their future. Unfortunately, in twelve years of marriage, none of his dreams became reality. Crop after crop failed, livestock died, and Jill became bitter. Jack never did, and she hated him for it. No matter how desperate they became, he was always sure that next year’s crop would fix everything or his grand new scheme would make them rich as kings.
The beans had been his worst blunder. Jack had traded their last sickly cow for a handful of seeds guaranteed to grow a forest of vines. He’d spun visions of a bumper crop, a better life. Jill had raged and thrown the seeds out the window.
The seeds did grow massive vines practically overnight, but they were a menace. The beanstalk took up half their garden. The inedible vines showed no signs of bearing fruit. Every day, they hacked at runners and roots that threatened to destroy their cottage. Jack put a cheerful face on it; Jill had only complained.
Outside their cupboard, a shout from the giant sent shivers up Jill’s spine. “Did he just ask for ‘man-flesh’?”
Jack sat up and nodded grimly. “Fortunately, his wife objects.”
“You work for this monster?”
“I’d be his next meal if he saw me. His wife has a softer heart. She hides me from him and gives us food.”
“I’d rather starve than know you risk yourself this way.”
Jack gave Jill an astonished look that made her insides twist with shame. Had it been so long since she’d expressed concern for his well-being?
Jack stepped closer to the door. “If it were only me, I wouldn’t risk it. But we could save the whole valley. He’s been hoarding the water somehow, keeping it here in the clouds. If I could find a way to release it, it could end the drought.”
The giant slammed down an empty glass, leaned back in his chair, and called for music.
Jack said grimly, “We’re also not the only humans here.”
The giant’s wife carried a golden cage into the kitchen. Huddled in the center, looking small as a canary, sat a crying eight-year-old-girl.
“Farmer Gidding’s youngest,” Jack explained. “Sings like a nightingale. Not big enough to eat. He keeps her as a pet.”
“How horrible," Jill whispered.
As the little girl piped a tearful song, Jack said, “I had hoped I could rescue her today, but now that you’re here, plans will have to change.”
As Jack gazed through the crack, a ray of light illuminated his fearless form. Jill had thought her husband’s optimism made him a fool, but there was another word for a man who didn’t let defeat discourage him, who looked at impossible odds and dared to try anyway.
Hero.
How had she ever stopped loving him?
Jill stepped to Jack’s side. “Let me help you, my love.”
Jack looked at her with surprise. “Truly?”
Jill took his hand. “Truly.”
Jack grinned.
#
When the giant fell asleep, they moved as one.
The child came with them down the beanstalk.
#the bookshelf progresses#fairy tale retellings#jack and the beanstalk#another of my flash fictions#probably the second most-polished#wrote this one after reading elizabeth goudge so that's where the 'woman learning to appreciate her holy fool of a husband' comes from
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so I’ve been advised for years that the best way to get sour body smells out of clothing, like for instance bras, the chief offender in my wardrobe, is by using vinegar in the laundry. the vinegar is renowned for removing smells, they all say. I use vinegar every time I do laundry, they all say. it really works, they all say. it even helps preserve colour, they all say, as if colour preservation hasn’t been a non-issue for at least fifteen years at this point. I have been sceptical of this tip, this trick, hack, as you will, because I cannot fucking stand vinegar and the smell of vinegar, and my experience with vinegar is once you get it on something, it will smell like vinegar forever. I do however have one bra that is too new to throw away but that has developed an unfortunate sour body smell so I thought, well, if the alternative is throwing it away I might as well try the vinegar trick. maybe I will be a convert. maybe I will find a delightful new use for vinegar that isn’t just limescale remover, the only reason why I even have vinegar in the house. do you want to guess how it went. do you. fucking guess
#to spell it out: the bra now stinks to high heaven of vinegar.#on one hand I do not detect the sour body smell. but this may because the stench of the vinegar is drowning it out.
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Red Beans And Rice
So with all the shit going on, it's time i started sharing my cauldron-o'-food recipes. Because im physically and financially incapable of cooking for all of you, but I CAN do this.
So. My family's red beans and rice recipe.
Equiptment Get:
large pot
stirring implement
cutting board
knife
(optional) instant pot/pressure cooker
(optional) rice cooker
Food Get:
1 bag(1lb) of dry red beans. Or really any beans
2 links of basic-ass-bitch smoked sausage. Can also use other smoked meats but this is cheap and low spoons
1 onion. chopped
3-6 cloves of garlic. Canned+minced or fresh and minced whatever's there
spices. Salt, pepper, smoked paprika, and cayenne pepper are my good tos
rice. however much you and your family are gonna eat
pepper vinegar. while this is a condiment and technically optional, it's a must for me. How to make listed below
0.5: Pepper Vinegar
This needs to be done like 3 months ago. Locate some vinegar(i like white wine). Locate some spicy peppers. Boil the vinegar and sterilize the bottle. Shove the peppers in the bottle. Pour the vinegar back into the bottle and seal. Leave for a few months
1: Prep Beans
There are 3 ways.
Cover beans in water in the large pot and soak overnight
Cover beans in water in the large pot and boil for 2 hours(Grammy's hack)
Cover beans in water in instant pot/pressure cooker and cook on high pressure for 30 minutes. let the pressure naturally release for 15 minutes before releasing pressure(my hack)
Add a little bit of baking soda at this point. It breaks down the stuff in beans that gives you gas and helps the texture
2: Sautee
Heat a couple tablespoons of neutral oil in the large pot(or skillet if using the large pot to soak/boil beans)
Cook chopped onion until fragrant
Add minced garlic and spices and continue to cook until garlic is fragrant
Add chopped sausage pieces and cook until sausage has shrunk down a little
3: Simmer
Combine beans and onion+sausage mixture in the large pot.
Add enough water to cover.
Simmer, stirring occasionally, for 2ish hours, or until beans have softened, liquid is thickened, and flavors are melded
4: Rice
Cook rice according to your preference while the beans cook. I use a $20 rice cooker from target and it's great, but whatever works
5: Eat
Serve beans over rice and add pepper vinegar and/or hot sauce to taste
If you don't like spice just a splash of plain white wine vinegar is still amazing
So yeah. This recipe scales pretty much as far up as your biggest pot. You can feed tons of people with this and it's filling af. Also has a comfort food vibe which we all need right now tbh
See pictures of finished pot and also the dregs of my dinner lol
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