#sweet berlin strain

[lungcandymafia]

Bubblegum

$1300 a pound

#weed cannabis cannabiscommunity weedporn marijuana thc cbd weedstagram stoner cannabisculture ganja hightimes indica life sativa kush maryja #kushlove #kushqueen #kush weed #cannibalposting #cannibal the musical #cannibis #hannibal the cannibal #cannibalistic #weed strains #sweet berlin strain #the acacia strain

[blukrown]

Restful body, Restless mind - HorangixKonig Oneshot [NSFW]

Horangi enjoys the bliss of respite with Konig, relishing all of their moments away from the noises of war.

Or read on AO3

Faint snoring was the noise Horangi awoke to one Thursday morning. Loud only due to proximity but comforting. The steady rhythm of breath after breath reassured him he was not alone in an unfamiliar room.

Facing a curtained window, where warm sunlight blazed through, Horangi grunted and rolled over. Pleasantly unsurprised to feel the wall of warmth and relaxed muscle that greeted him. Blearily, he opened his eyes a little to look, hoping to maintain some sliver of drowsiness.

He saw a man’s back, clothed in a black t-shirt, somehow hiding the shapes of his expansive back below. His chest rose and fell in a slow melody of snoring intake and breathy exhale. Horangi could see further up the bed, a head of dark nearly brown auburn hair that hung loose to just past shoulder length with locks laying uncaringly on the pillow. Sometimes Horangi wished he could comb it to see its sheen, but he knew that He would not much like it. Hair was a thing of discomfort, at least to Him anyway.

Horangi moved even closer, pressing his own red shirt-covered chest to this enormous back. Arms somehow slithering under and over to hug from behind. His fingers only just snagging on each other on the other side. Horangi found he did not mind the slight strain if it meant he could encompass all of him.

Pressing one side of his face to the body before him, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Welcoming the noise of the steady, slow drumming of the man’s heartbeat in his ear. The rhythm of blood pumping through his veins, of oxygen going in and out of his lungs, of life still running through him.

HIm and Horangi were on R&R, after a steady stream of contract after contract, mission upon mission. Leading to KorTac’s leadership needing to provide respite for their members or else they would start seeing men drop dead with exhaustion. Even Horangi, someone who did not look forward to recuperation, admitted it was what all of them needed. But instead of hunkering down in hiding in South Korea for 6 months, he had been pleased to receive an invite. Horangi had been asked to go with Him back to Berlin. To a small, self-admitted ‘shitty’ flat. A studio apartment, with a second-hand spring mattress and only one chair and table to decorate it, in an old rickety building that was left abandoned for most of its lease. Suffice to say, Horangi leapt on the opportunity.

Horangi and Him were in an oddly, committed and almost - some would call - wholesome relationship. Obviously when guns, blood and shrapnel were not surrounding and covering them both.

T hey had found each other as two war-beaten, violence revelling soldiers. At first, it was friendship, Horangi’s great marksmanship and Konig’s weapon-like body being such a beneficial combination that KorTac had partnered them up in an official capacity. Suffice it to say, kindness turned to lust, then lust turned to love.

Horangi could spend all morning recalling all the sweet and bitter memories of the nearly three years of history between them. The rise and falls, the injuries and near-death experiences, the touches, the kisses, the arguments, the silences. It was something Horangi thought he never thought he could deserve or even want. To this day, Horangi’s mind spun at the thought of how he got to this point. How the man code-named Konig became his.

Konig, but Horangi rarely thought of him by that name, had yet to reveal his true identity. He had once explained that he might never.

‘It is a life I have left behind. Call me Konig if you want, it is the closest thing to a name I have now.’

Horangi remembered shrugging, ‘A name is name, it does not speak the story of the man who holds it. Besides, I don’t think I need to call you by some name to get your attention.’

Horangi’s stomach now twisted in self-induced embarrassment. What a line. He remembered how Konig almost shrunk, physically curling in at the flirty jab. Adorable, Horangi could only think as he thanked his habit of wearing a mask.

Pressing the front of his face into His back, hoping to soothe the warmth of his still burning face, Horangi breathed Konig in.

It was odd. He usually smelt like sweat, gunpowder and oil grease, along with his usual musk. Now, it was just that, the natural scent of him and the hint of a cheap chemist-bought body wash from the shower last night. It was a peculiar, but welcome change. Another thing Horangi never knew he would have the privilege to have.

Arms now dully complaining of the strain to encircle his partner, Horangi instead pressed the palms to Konig’s chest. Through thin, worn cloth, he felt firm muscle and the working lungs still busy at work.

Mischief struck him as he thought to awaken his bedfellow with some fun, impish touches. Cupping the sizable pectoral muscles in either hand, Horangi devilishly squeezed them, relishing the firm, giving flesh under his fingers. He did not react, snoring away dully in front of him.

Horangi pursed his lips on Konig’s back, letting his hands roam further down the broad chest and stomach. Scaping over the skin he knew well whether clothed or naked, to his gut.

Toughened with muscle, but covered with a layer of fat that made his stomach sink into the grasp of Horangi’s greedy hands. Running from front to either side, Horangi faintly hummed. Still yet satisfied, he tucked his hands under Horangi’s shirt, welcoming the warmth of Konig’s skin underneath.

This time, the man’s breath stuttered for only a moment, surely reacting to Horangi’s naturally cold hands against his flesh. Before his breaths evened to that drawling, easy snore again.

Horangi, although not often getting the liberty to see him asleep like this back on base, was almost annoyed at the man’s unconscious reluctance to wake. He had heard him say that, when not on a mission He slept like a rock and, up until now, HOrangi had not believed him.

No matter, Horangi would still find his enjoyment. His fingers touched the tough muscle of Konig’s belly, running over scars of bullets, knives and shrapnel. This was the body of a man who put it on the line for his team every time he was in the field. Pushing down doors, slamming through the enemy lines, still charging forwards even as bullets ricocheted around them. Horangi was forever thankful he never had to experience the fear and horror their enemies experienced, seeing the mountain of a man charged in.

Roaming up Konig’s body, Horangi cupped at his chest again, the same strong muscle but forgiving layer of fat filling his hands. Squeezing and messaging the skin, he felt the large back in front of him move fitfully, a small grunt rumbling out. Horangi did not stop, however. His fingers finding the buds of nipples instead. Softly pinching them in both hands, he relished a small whimper that whispered out. Using both of his forefingers, her rubbed at the perked buds, rolling them over the pad.

Horangi could hear the slight hitch in Konig’s breathing and could see him shuffling occasionally in his dreams. The far larger man pressed to Horangi’s front, unconsciously curling slightly so that even Horangi could almost encircle him from behind, covering head to toe. Horangi leaned to kiss the bare skin of his neck, loving over muscle, tendon and a choice skimming bullet scar. His hands now travelling again, impatiently roving up and down the full train of his torso. Savouring the natural shapes of Konig’s body over palm and fingers.

One such time his hands dipped lower, Horangi passed his belly over the waistband of boxers. Only intending to give a grateful touch to his massive thighs, he noted that the man’s underwear was strained. Tented and stretched. Horangi’s heart leapt in excitement as Konig, still mid-sleep was aroused in another way by his very greedy, self-indulgent touch.

Horangi, mischief and his own bubbling lust fueling his actions, did not touch the shape between the man’s legs just yet. Instead, his arms reached as far down Konig’s legs as he could. Squeezing at the sturdy well-built muscles of his thighs before dragging upwards, almost teasing the still sleeping Austrian.

To Horangi’s surprise and deep pleasure, as his hands reached with a height of the tented cloth, Konig’s hips unconsciously bucked. Urging the touch to go to the warm, large and girthy shape between.

Horangi’s own excitement was starting to show, the simmering warmth that had at one point been easy to ignore was now a small annoyance. His own briefs restraining an erection. Licking his lips and gnawing a little on the flesh of his bottom lip, Horangi took a moment to consider his next move.

Pressing his full body to Konig’s, Horangi pressed his face to the man’s back as he welcomed the warmth between the larger man’s two legs. Muffling a soft moan as he rubbed his lust against Konig’s behind. Horangi’s hands then cupped the shape in between his two hands, hiding a smile against the man’s skin as he felt the large size of him not yet at full mast. Pressing his lips to the hot skin of the man’s neck, both hands took a grip around the shape above the clothing of his underwear. Moving from moistening time to thick base, savouring the soft, faint moan that ruptured from Konig’s mouth.

More than ever now, Horangi wanted him to wake up. To see his eyes open and look at him, with surprise, lust, fear, wonderment, he really did not care. But he did not wake him. Instead savouring the noises that an awake Konig would never allow himself to make. Whimpers and whines, gasps and groans all audible without a hand, pillow or mask to restrain them.

Horangi opened his mouth and let his teeth scrape against the strong flesh and firm tendons of the Austrian neck. Finding a particularly tender portion of skin unburdened by wounds to lay a salacious mark. Sucking, nibbling and licking the skin until it was purple plum and a large obvious blemish on pale skin. Horangi knew the spot was very easily hidden by Konig’s usual attire, but still, the thought of it being there and that, every time he undressed, he would see the mark on him. Amongst his other treasures of wars and battles, a mark of love and passion. It made Horangi’s heart race and his hips thrust in small humps forward into His rear.

Hands growing greedier by the moment, they tucked under Konig’s trousers and pulled out his arousal to the warm air under the blankets. Even without looking, he knew he was at fullmast now. He could imagine it in detail in his mind. Heavy, wide and with several pulsing veins. Circumcised and pale with the skin growing to an angry red nearer to the tip.

Horangi kissed at his masterpiece of a hickey as his hands got to work again. One hand gripping the girth above the other, up and down the warm shaft.

Konig’s hitched breaths drew heavier and heavier by the moment and Horangi’s eyes could only look to the man’s almost hidden face. Only able to see the shape of an unshaved jaw and blushing red cheeks and ears. Horangi soon noted the man’s great muscles tensing and straining, body filling with pleasurable anticipation. His legs curled further as if to squeeze into a ball with the smaller Horangi covering his back like an outer shell.

At some point, in the ocean of pleasure and lust, Konig must have awoken. Horangi could not tell, perhaps too consumed with fervour as well as being yet unable to see his face. But knew it to be so when his chest stuttered as he inhaled a large breath, not in fear but pleasant surprise.

A soft, voice, heavy with sleep mumbled against the pillow, “Mm . . . H-Horangi?”

“Shh,” Horangi hushed, lifting his head to kiss as high as he could reach, which was the skin of his neck near his ear. “I’m here . . . Shall I continue?” His hands having paused at Konig’s awakening.

“Mmm,” The man hummed dully, his back stretching as he wriggled a little lower on the bed to get comfortable. "J-Ja, bitte . . . Yes.” He finally muttered, turning his head as best he could to look behind him.

Horangi was greeted with a face he had the great pleasure of seeing often. Dark brown eyes with flecks of deep orange-red looked to him past heavy eyelids. A slightly crooked aquiline nose and sharp chin made his profile all the more recognisable along with the scar. A jagged, pale line that went over the bridge of his nose and sharply went downwards over his mouth to finish before the end of his chin. The skin raised and puckered around it, the cut at his lip shrivelling to cause a cleft on his upper lip, revealing the whites of his canine.

It was a face Horangi wished to see more of, to kiss, to love and to pray to. But even Horangi knew Konig had his times where the black veil must hide him, just as Horangi very rarely walked around with an uncovered back.

The Austrian’s eyes were so expressive, Horangi could easily read that eyes that dashed between his own and his lips, which meant only one thing. Straining for a kiss, he let Konig lead him, allowing him to focus on his hands that began to move again.

Now mouth busy and awake enough to restrain himself, the man’s noises of pleasure were now at a minimum. Gasps and the faintest of whimpers being the only noise Horangi was blessed to hear. Even so, Horangi knew the man was near his end. Konig usually became fit less near his climax, just as he did when adrenaline was making his hands and knees shake. The man’s body softly wriggled under the sheets, his caressing lips faltering their kisses on Horangi’s.

“I-I’m close . . .” He whispered just so that Horangi could hear.

Horangi felt himself smiling as he took Konig’s bottom lip between his teeth, “Good.”

“W-What about you?” Konig asked, clearly aware of the shape rubbing at him from behind.

Horangi licked at the man’s lips, relishing the taste of him, the shape of him. “Later.” He said simply.

He grumbled beside him but said no more, gingerly kissing Horangi again. One great hand lifted from the sheets, reaching to hold Horangi’s face by him. Part of Horangi wanted to pull his mouth away and watch him. See him so consumed by pleasure, see it in the crinkle in his eyes, the gritting of his teeth and jaw, the flaring of his nose. They were all things he had seen several times before but could never get bored of.

But he supposed, just this once, he could stay like this. Let his other senses tell him what his sight could not. The noises of breaths, cloth against skin. The taste of lust and pleasure, with the hint of morning breath. The smell of faint sweat over his once clean skin. The feeling of his lips on his own, the twitching of him between his hands and Konig’s whole body in his grasp.

Soon, the Austrian gave a sharp exhale, pulling lips away to gasp at the air. His hips jittered as his mind ceased to behave, thrusting into Horangi’s hands just a few more times. There was then a long, lovely, delicious groan that ruptured past Konig’s lips. The large expansive muscles of his back and legs seizing as he came. Horangi welcomed the warm thick strips of spill as they covered his hands and fingers. Doing one last experimental jerk of his wrist to drag out the last drop, relishing the faint whimper of the other man as overstimulation made him twitch.

Finally, the large body in front of Horangi sagged, half onto the mattress and half leaning into him. Heaving breaths now the only noise to be heard in the room.

Horangi kept his arms around the larger man but hands away from his body so that he would not dirty Konig’s shirt.

Eventually the Austrian soon came back to himself, turning his head to look to Horangi once more. The warm sunlight of morning shining through to make his eyes gleam and dark red eyelashes glitter.

“M-May I?” Konig asked, eyes darting to look past sheets and briefs to Horangi’s still twitching member.

“By all means,” Horangi welcomed.

The kind giant carefully moved, rolling onto his back then to his other side until they were face to face and chest to chest. For a moment Horangi missed being the larger spoon, protecting Konig the only way he physically could. But seeing him properly, wide awake and unmasked, more than made up for that.

#horangi #konig #horangi x konig #konig x horangi #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #korangi #fanfic #fanfiction #mlm #konig call of duty #konig smut #konig cod #horangi smut #yaoi #smut

[anghraine]

♫ + Darcy

So, there were plenty of options for him, predictably.

For this answer, however, I was trying to think of something that combined his "usual sedateness" in the novel with his capacity for intense feeling and potentially overbearing forcefulness, but also had some suggestion of the sweet strain in his character described by Mrs Reynolds, and ideally some unexpected moments. And then I realized that there is something that has all that:

Symphony No. 94 in G Major, Hob. I:94 "Surprise": II. Andante | Joseph Haydn (perf. Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra)

#i wouldn't have associated him with surprise symphony but if he's anything ... #anon replies #respuestas #lady anne blogging #austen blogging #fitzwilliam darcy #meme prattle #my little piano: music is magic

[tommytranselo]

this section from the wikipedia article on cool made me think of henry:

Brecht projected his cool attitude to life onto his most famous character Macheath or "Mackie Messer" (Mack the knife), in The Threepenny Opera. Mackie, the nonchalant, smooth-talking gangster, expert with the switchblade, personifies the bitter-sweet strain of cool; Puritanism and sentimentality are both anathema to the cool character.[8]

During the turbulent inter-war years, cool was a privilege reserved for bohemian milieus like Brecht's. Cool irony and hedonism remained the province of cabaret artistes, ostentatious gangsters and rich socialites, those decadents depicted in Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited and Christopher Isherwood's Goodbye to Berlin, tracing the outlines of a new cool.

#henry tomasino #see also: @swiftcola saying mack the knife is a henry song

[thedrinkingshopsblog]

Exploring the World of Beer: A Journey Through Different Styles

Beer, the beverage that has been enjoyed by cultures around the world for centuries, comes in a vast array of styles, each with its own unique characteristics. From light and refreshing lagers to rich and robust stouts, the world of beer offers something for every palate. Join us on a journey through some of the most popular beer styles, as we uncover their origins, flavors, and the breweries that have perfected them.

Lagers: Crisp, Clean, and Refreshing

Lagers are known for their smooth and crisp profiles, making them a go-to choice for many beer enthusiasts. Explore classic lagers like the German Pilsner, characterized by its light maltiness and hop bitterness,or the American Lager, with its clean and approachable taste. Some popular examples include Pilsner Urquell and Budweiser.

Ales: Bold and Flavorful

Ales are a type of beer brewed with top-fermenting yeast strains, which typically impart robust flavors and aromas. They are known for their fuller body, higher alcohol content, and diverse range of flavors. Some popular ale styles include Pale Ale, India Pale Ale (IPA), Porter,and Stout. Ales offer a spectrum of taste experiences, from the hoppy bitterness of an IPA to the rich and malty profile of a stout.

Bitters: A Touch of Complexity

Bitters, also known as pale ales, bridge the gap between ales and lagers. They have a moderate bitterness, distinctive hop flavors, and a balanced malt backbone. Bitter styles include Extra Special Bitter (ESB)and English Bitter. Bitters are renowned for their nuanced flavors, offering a perfect blend of malt sweetness and hop bitterness.

India Pale Ales (IPAs): Hoppy and Bold

IPAs have taken the beer world by storm, offering a hop-forward experience that delights hop enthusiasts. From the classic English IPA, featuring balanced bitterness and floral hop flavors, to the American IPA, known for its intense citrus and pine notes, there is an IPA for every hop lover. Notable examples include Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and Stone IPA.

Stouts: Rich, Dark, and Velvety

A type of Ale, Stouts are the heavyweight champions of the beer world, known for their dark color, full-bodied nature, and complex flavors. Explore the roasty and chocolaty notes of the classic Irish DryStout, or indulge in the creamy and coffee-infused flavors of a decadent Imperial Stout. Guinness and Samuel Smith’s Oatmeal Stout are excellent examples of these styles.

Wheat Beers: Light, Fruity, and Refreshing

Wheat beers, with their distinctive cloudy appearance and refreshing character, are a favorite among many beer enthusiasts. Delve into the banana and clove flavors of a German Hefeweizen or enjoy the delicate balance of a Belgian Witbier with its hints of coriander and orange peel. Widely known examples include Schneider Weisse and Hoegaarden.

Sours, Lambics and Goses: Tart and Tangy Delights

For those seeking a unique and palate-tingling experience, sours and goses offer a delightful departure from traditional beer styles. Experience the mouth-puckering tartness of a Berliner Weisse or the saline-infused flavors of a traditional German Gose. Noteworthy examples include Anderson Valley Blood Orange Gose and Jester King Funk Metal.

Porters: Rich, Smooth, and Flavorful

Porters, often considered the predecessor to stouts, boast a wide range of flavors and aromas. Indulge in the chocolate and caramel notes of an English Porter or explore the robust and roasted flavors of a Baltic Porter. Popular examples include Fuller’s London Porter and Anchor Porter.

As you embark on your beer journey, remember that the world of beer is constantly evolving, with new styles and innovative breweries pushing the boundaries of flavor. So, whether you prefer the crispness of a lager, the hoppy punch of an IPA, or the velvety richness of a stout, there is a beer style waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.

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[beatbude]

Boomkat Product Review: Downbeat ambient-pop and toytronics from Berlin’s fuzzier underbelly, hailing another side to the city with a blissfully out-of-time flashback to time spent with Art of Noise, ISAN and generally the Morr crew.

Law & Wow’s eponymous debut is a charming confection of tropes that harks back to a certain halcyon daze of early ’00s, post-club strains that melded ambient-pop, synth-pop, and gently jazzier whims to taste, and with the needs of frayed heads in mind.

From the opening licks of guitars and blushing pads in ‘Or Paul_’ you instantly get the vibe and they faithfully hold it for the duration, breezily cycling between the cutest vignettes of ambient electro-jazz (‘With You Jean’) to lo-fi (‘Laff’), wavey 4th world (‘Wind F*ck’), melting library music themes (‘Repeat That’), and krautrock sweetness (‘Kuru Kual’), before blowing jazzy kisses to close.

#Laff & Wow #Boomkat #Andreas Haslacher #BB 021

[timothywinters]

From a Berlin tourist brochure:

'After the New Apocalypse, very few members were still in possession of their instruments. Hardly a musician could call a decent suit his own. Yet, by the early summer of 1945, strains of sweet music floated on the air again. While the town still reeked of smoke, charred buildings and the stench of corpses, the Philharmonic Orchestra bestowed the everlasting and imperishable joy which music never fails to give.'

It soothes the savage doubts.

One Bach outweighs ten Belsens. If 200,000 people

Were remaindered at Hiroshima, the sales of So-and-So's

New novel reached a higher figure in as short a time.

So, imperishable paintings reappeared:

Texts were reprinted:

Public buildings reconstructed:

Human beings reproduced.

After the Newer Apocalypse, very few members

Were still in possession of their instruments

(Very few were still in possession of their members),

And their suits were chiefly indecent.

Yet, while the town still reeked of smoke, etc,

The Philharmonic Trio bestowed, etc.

A civilisation vindicated,

A race with three legs still to stand on!

True, the violin was shortly silenced by leukaemia,

And the pianoforte crumbled softly into dust.

But the flute was left. And one is enough.

All, in a sense, goes on. All is in order.

And the ten-tongued mammoth larks,

The forty-foot crickets and the elephantine frogs

Decided that the little chap was harmless,

At least he made no noise, on the bank of whatever river

it used to be.

One day, a reed-warbler stepped on him by accident.

However, all, in a sense, goes on. Still the everlasting

and imperishable joy

Which music never fails to give is being given.

-Apocalypse, D J Enright

#poetry #war #things we had to learn in year six #holocaust mention

[dosaandmoreberlin]

Dosa and More’s Best Indian Paneer Gravy Dishes to Have with Rice

Dosa and More is an authentic Indian restaurant based in Berlin, Germany serving premium quality Indian dishes at pocket friendly prices. Dosa and more has a huge variety of Indian meals for one to choose from. With the variety and quality available at Dosa and More, it has become one of the best Indian restaurants in Berlin. One can have anything from South Indian dosa to North Indian chole bhature in Berlin at Dosa and More. While staying away from your homeland, one misses food the most and Dosa and More is one place to get the truest flavours and aroma of their favourite dishes in Germany. Along with affordability, authenticity, taste, and variety, Dosa and More also provides option for home delivery. This feature allows you to enjoy your favourite Indian meal without actually stepping out of your house.

There is a huge variety of dishes and meals available at Dosa and More. Some of them are the popular choice of cuisine abroad like South Dosa, idli, vada, and uttapam, while others are more tangy Indian street food dishes like pav bhaji, Indian chaats, chole bhature, tawa pulao and many more. Dosa and More, the top Indian restaurant in Berlin, also has some mouth watering Indian beverages like masala chai, mango lassi, and salted lassi and meals like palak paneer with rice and paneer butter masala with rice. These beverages are super refreshing and are consumed very frequently by people throughout the day. Indian restaurants like Dosa and More try their best to bring out the authentic flavours and aroma of Indian cuisine through their dishes. 

Paneer is a very important ingredient in Indian cooking. Having a paneer dish any night is like a mini luxury for the stomach and taste buds. Indian paneer dishes also have a huge variety, some are gravy dishes served with rice and chapati, some are dry vegetable dishes made using paneer and other veggies and served with chapatis where as paneer is also served barbequed or roasted with veggies as starters, or snacks or appetisers. All of these dishes have a very unique and distinctive purpose and taste. They fill your stomach differently and are paired with different sides every time. Enjoy paneer dishes along with other Indian foods in Berlin at Dosa and More restaurant. 

There are two major paneer dishes that are served at Dosa and More, Palak paneer with basmati rice and Paneer butter masala with basmati rice. In this blog we will talk about both these dishes along with why they are served with basmati rice. 

1.      Paneer Butter Masala: A dish famous and loved by the children and those with a liking of something subtle and sweet. Paneer butter masala has a variety of ingredients, spices and herbs in it and is consumed with freshly made delicious basmati rice. It takes approximately 50 minutes to make and has ingredients like kasuri methi, garam masala, cream, cashews, cloves, cinnamon, ginger and garlic, and various other Indian spices. 

2.      Palak paneer: Palak paneer is a dish made using one of the healthiest green leafy vegetables, palak or spinach and plant protein rice, paneer. Palak paneer is consumed heavily during the winter or cold months in India but can be consumed any time of the year at Dosa and More, the best Indian restaurant. The main two ingredients of this dish are spinach and paneer but there are also various other herbs and spices used. It takes nearly 45 minutes to make this dish with ingredients like ginger garlic, cashews, cream, paneer, spinach, garam masala etc. Also served with basmati rice of special corn flour chapatis called missi roti. 

 The main reason why basmati rice is served with both these dishes at Dosa and More, is because the strained, separated and delicious rice grains help enhance the taste, aroma and flavours of the rice and the gravy dish. Visit Dosa and More on your next day to dine out and enjoy these two amazing meals at very reasonable and pocket friendly prices. Along with these there are various other extremely delicious, healthy and filling meals which can be consumed at Dosa and More or can be ordered online for home delivery in Berlin, any time of the day. Some of the most beloved Dosa and More meals include: 

1.      Tawa Pulao: Freshly cooked, grainy, and tasty Indian rice cooked in mouth watering spices and herbs, loaded with Indian vegetables. 

2.      Pav Bhaji: A delicacy from the western states of India, known for the smashing flavours. The curry or bhaji is made by smashing various veggies and cooking them in Indian masalas and is served with tawa cooked pav. 

3.      Dosa sambar: The South Indian meal which is super light, healthy and mouth watering. Dosa is a thin, crispy Indian crepe which can be filled with any spiced filling and is served with lentils and vegetable soup called sambar.

4.      Idli and Vada combo: Another filling South Indian meal. Steamed idlis served with authentically made vadas and served with sambar.

#best Indian restaurants in Berlin #top Indian restaurant in Berlin #Indian foods in Berlin

[nebris]

The United States DID win World War Two

"The effective employment of Lend-Lease equipment was compromised by the persistent objection of the Soviet side to allowing Western personnel access to help with training and repair or to supply information on how the aid was being utilized. By 1943 large stockpiles of material had accumulated in the Soviet Union but it was impossible to check why this was or to limit further deliveries without Soviet co-operation. Soviet secretiveness made it difficult at the time to counteract the regular criticism of combat failures, while despite promises Soviet officials released little information on the development of Soviet tanks and aircraft, apart from the one T-34 tank sent to the United States in 1942. ‘We still meet their requests to the limit of our ability,’ complained the head of the American military mission in Moscow, John Deane, to General Marshall, ‘and they meet ours to the minimum that will keep us sweet.’[116] Growing suspicion that Soviet requests for Lend-Lease supplies, which reached a peak in 1944 and 1945, included goods intended for Soviet post-war reconstruction led to political pressure in Washington to place limits on Soviet assistance. In August 1945, following the Japanese surrender, President Truman announced the immediate end of all Lend-Lease shipments without consulting either of the main recipients. Tensions in the Lend-Lease relationship were inevitable given the nature of the geographical scope involved and the contending requirements for urgent supply, but in the end vast resources, chiefly from the American productive surplus, were shared between the Allies. Was this record, in the words of Edward Stettinius, the Lend-Lease administrator, a ‘weapon for victory’? The answer is more complicated than it seems. For years after the war the official Soviet line was to downplay or to ignore altogether the role of Lend-Lease in the Soviet war effort. This was a deliberate act of historical distortion. Shortly after the end of the war, informal guidelines were issued (which no sensible author could ignore under Stalin) that Lend-Lease ‘did not play a somewhat noticeable part in Russian victory’. The official line until the 1980s was to insist that Lend-Lease goods came late, were often of poor quality, and comprised only 4 per cent of the weapons produced by the Soviet Union’s own efforts. During the war, however, Soviet leaders privately admitted how important all the forms of aid were. In the taped interviews for his memoirs, Khrushchev revealed the importance Stalin attached to the aid, but the following passage was only published in the 1990s: ‘Several times I heard Stalin acknowledge [Lend-Lease] in the small circle of people around him. He said that . . . if we had had to deal with Germany one-to-one we would not have been able to cope.’ Marshal Zhukov, victor in Berlin, toed the Party line in his memoirs published in 1969, but in a bugged conversation six years earlier he was overheard to say that without foreign aid the Soviet Union ‘could not have continued the war’. The 4 per cent figure for Allied supplies as a percentage of Soviet output is not wrong, but it entirely masks what Lend-Lease actually achieved. In the early stages of the war, Lend-Lease tanks and aircraft supplied a higher percentage of Soviet equipment because of the exceptional losses in the first months of combat. As the war progressed, Soviet output revived, and Lend-Lease military equipment became correspondingly less significant. Up to the Battle of Stalingrad Lend-Lease tanks amounted to 19 per cent of Soviet production. But by the Battle of Kursk six months later, one of the largest tank engagements of the war, there were 3,495 Soviet-built tanks and only 396 Lend-Lease, around 11 per cent. Tanks, aircraft and weapons, however, were not the decisive factor in Allied deliveries. Of much greater significance was the transformation of the Soviet communications system, support for the strained railway network, and large supplies of raw materials, fuel and explosives without which the overall Soviet war effort and military campaigns would have been less than adequate for the defeat of the great bulk of the German army. One of the major deficiencies in conducting air and tank combat in the early years of the war was the lack of electronic equipment; it was also a major problem for commanders trying to manage a vast battlefield with poor or little communication. Under Lend-Lease the Western Allies together supplied 35,000 army radio sets, 389,000 field telephones and over 1.5 million kilometres of telephone cable. By early 1943 the Red Air Force was at last able to operate centralized control of air combat units, while the simple device of installing radios in tanks proved a force multiplier. Radio also came to play a part in the Red Army’s very effective use of deception and disinformation, which on numerous occasions left the German army unable to guess the size, the whereabouts or the intentions of enemy forces. The supply position of the Red Army was above all transformed by the trucks and jeeps provided under Lend-Lease, which in the end amounted to more than 400,000, against domestic Soviet production of 205,000. By January 1945 one-third of Red Army vehicles were supplied by Lend-Lease. American aid also broadened the range of vehicles serving the Soviet war effort: scout cars, armoured personnel carriers, half-tracks, the Ford amphibians and 48,956 jeeps, also fitted with radios so that Red Army commanders could control their forces with greater efficiency. Shifting men and equipment by railway was also underpinned by the American provision of 1,900 locomotives (against Soviet output of just 92) and 56 per cent of all the rails used during the war. By late 1942 the Soviet rail system was able to supply front-line forces at Stalingrad with fifteen trains a day where German supply averaged twelve. Finally, Allied aid provided almost 58 per cent of all aviation fuel, 53 per cent of all explosives and half the requirements of aluminium, copper and synthetic rubber tyres. Allied supply on this scale was decisive. Soviet industry could concentrate on the mass production of weapons, leaving the supply of much else in the war economy to Allied assistance." Richard Overy, Blood and Ruins

[lead7deer]

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[minim236]

Miriam is always chill and calm, never makes scandals, etc., Baldwin likes that.

But the one time she got jealous. . . (Can you continue?) 😄

Love this prompt (and I love that there is someone else who ships them!)

So as we've set out, Miriam Shephard does not get jealous. Look at her - beautiful, extremely accomplished in her field, secure in herself. She does not get jealous. Baldwin loves that. He's dated women who cause scenes over him looking in the direction of someone else. But Miriam knows he's completely loyal to her.

However, there was one woman who could make her jealous. Eva Jaeger. Miriam had always been okay with their relationship, it happened when she and Baldwin were in their off period. The beautiful German woman had loved Baldwin before he crashed the stock markets in 1910.

Baldwin and Miriam reconciled, and she forgot about Eva. She didn't care.

But she's at this party they are all at in Berlin, and Eva saw Baldwin and just had to catch up with him.

"You know, glaring at the glass doesn't make the wine disappear." Matthew tried to joke. She turns and narrows her eyes at him.

"Shut up." She looked back and she saw Eva touch him. The grip on her glass tightened and Matthew could hear the glass straining.

"You're jealous." Matthew realised with a slight smirk. Miriam scoffed at the suggestion.

"No, please. What do I have to be jealous of?"

"Well, she is his ex. One of his long relationships outside of yours. He was devastated when she left him if I recall-"

"Matthew, as much as I adore you, continue and I will break your arm," Miriam growled slightly. She sighed. She was being ridiculous. Baldwin was her husband. He didn't care about some woman he loved 80 years ago. He'd loved her for centuries.

But then he laughed. He laughed at something she had said. Miriam hadn't been paying attention to her, but her husband's laughter was a rare and wonderful thing.

A rare and wonderful thing reserved for her.

She needed to put an end to this. She handed Matthew her glass and stormed over to her husband. He turned to her, a small smile on his face.

"I want to go home," Miriam demanded. Baldwin nodded.

"Then go," Eva said with a sweet, false, smile and turned back to Baldwin. He, however, rolled his eyes, before holding out his arm to his wife.

"Yes, let's go. A pleasure to see you, Eva." She kissed his cheek before walking away, as Miriam glared at the woman.

Miriam had been silent the entire car ride home, which was when Baldwin could tell something was wrong. She usually cracked a few comments of stupid things she heard.

"I was going to tear that bitch's throat out," Miriam said once they were inside the house. She whipped off her coat and stormed to the kitchen.

"Eva?" Baldwin asked, following her after putting up her coat.

"Why did you speak to her? All evening?" Miriam asked.

Baldwin furrowed his eyebrows, "I didn't speak to her all evening."

"It certainly felt like it." Miriam scoffed, "You were laughing with her."

Baldwin slowly approached her. Miriam took a step back.

"Miriam, are you jealous?" Baldwin asked.

"No," Miriam sighed in frustration, "No- I- You cared about her. A lot. You loved her even and well seeing the two of you together was unnerving."

Miriam was a woman others were jealous of. His female employees shrank whenever she came to see him in his office, waitresses and socialites alike wouldn't dare flirt with him in her presence and even when they did, Miriam ignored it.

But she still had emotions and feelings. Baldwin wrapped his arms around her, even as she refused to look him in the eyes. It was embarrassing.

"She doesn't have my heart. She didn't back then, definitely doesn't have it now." Baldwin said gently.

Miriam looked up sharply. Matthew would always speak about how heartbroken he was when Eva ended things.

"My heart was, well, on the other side of the world helping human children with malaria." Baldwin said, "And even when I wrote to you, you didn't reply. That's why I was upset as it were."

"That's why you were upset?" Miriam asked.

Baldwin nodded, just as embarrassed as she was feeling.

"Sorry. For being jealous."

"I can't believe you were jealous. It's quite funny. I didn't think that happened to you." Baldwin smirked, "How amusing. That will keep me going for a while."

"I hate you."

"I love you, too."

"What were you laughing about?" Miriam asked, with a small pout.

"You didn't hear? I thought you would find it amusing."

Miriam looked at him confused, "She thought you and Matthew would've been together. I found it quite funny, that's all."

Miriam cracked a smile, which then turned into a small laugh and Baldwin laughed as well.

"That is quite funny. I'll give her that."

#a discovery of witches #adow fic #miriam shephard #baldwin montclair #eva jaeger #matthew clairmont #miriam x baldwin #baldwin x eva #all souls trilogy #requested imagine #aiysha hart #peter mcdonald #matthew goode

[bratkook]

corrupt. jjk (m)

You’d be crying out in pain begging me to play my games. I could corrupt you, it would be ugly.

pairing: vampire!jk x human!reader genre: smut, pwp warnings: blood play, unprotected sex, dirty talk, exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, spanking, oral (f. receiving), partially clothed sex word count: 5k author’s note: literally everything i write is based on a song so listen to Corrupt by Depeche Mode. This also came to mind because my boss and i are obsessed with the idea of going to a sex club in berlin so i hope you enjoy lol. leave feedback or shoot me a message tysm ily bye. this also isnt edited yet im sorry

Standing in the middle of a dimly lit club in the heart of Berlin, the sound of a german band filling up the space all around you, is not how you thought your night would go.

Utterly alone, shimmying through the crowd of people all scantily clad in forms of leather or lace, some wearing nothing at all. No one seemed to mind you, no one gave you a second glance. The leather body harness you had on stuck to your body like second skin, the straps of it stretched across your breasts and covered your nipples. The only thing on your bottom half was a garter belt, a tiny pair of black underwear and fishnet stockings, finished off with some black heels.

You had begged your friend to come with you, being in the middle of your trip across Europe you wanted to visit the infamous sex club while in Berlin but she had been so against it. Not only was this club notorious for having orgies in the middle of the venue, which she thought was unspeakable, it was also a common hot spot for vampires as well, another taboo for her.

When she told you no you knew it was final so you didn’t mention it again. Instead you got dressed up in the bathroom of your airbnb, draped on a peacoat and headed out without a word. Luckily the club had coat check or else you’d feel entirely over dressed.

This club, unlike other vampire friendly ones you’ve visited, let everyone mingle together. You were accustomed to having dedicated rooms for humans, another for vampires, and a common ground for those who didn’t mind being together. But here it was a giant melting pot of both.

In the short ten minutes you’ve been here you had lost count of how many scarlet eyes you’d seen staring down at you, how many touches of cold skin you’d felt as you slipped by people, you felt very outnumbered and a little vulnerable but it sent a spark of excitement down your spine.

When you reach the bar, your arms press against the slightly tacky surface, a blonde with gleaming golden eyes greets you with a smile, “What’ll you have sweet heart?”

You strain your ears to hear her but try your best to tell her you’d just like a shot of tequila, she has no problem hearing your request, spinning around to grab the tequila from behind her.

Just as you start to ease up to being where you are, the feeling of someone slipping in beside you has you tensing up again. You keep your gaze on the bartender, watching her pour out your shot before sliding it over.

When you reach into the hem of your tights to pull out some cash she waves you off, “Its your first time here, consider it a welcoming gift.” She winks at you and moves on to the next thirsty guest before you can thank her.

You can sense the eyes boring into you from your right, your fingers gripping the edge of the shot glass as you lift it up to your lips. The curious observer just watches with a smirk as you throw back the shot, shutting your eyes as the warm liquid runs down your throat.

When you set the glass down and lick your lips over they finally speak, “First timer huh?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at his voice, the low gravel of it swimming through your ears and getting your full attention. Its melodic, something about it has you turning to him like he had just said something ground breaking, and when you see who the voice belongs to you let out a small shudder.

The dark red of his eyes seems to glow in between the random flashes of light, his eyebrow arched up in curiosity as you drink him in. The hair on his head, parted to the side and showing the sharp eyebrows that frame his eyes, is an inky shade, the tips of the strands landing on his forehead.

He lets you take your time, watching you make your way down his face, reaching his soft lips, parted in a half smile that showcased the sharp fangs where your incisors are. The action should be threatening but all you can think of is having them sink into your skin.

The way he’s dressed is more modest than others, a sheer black mesh shirt hugging his chest, showing off the indents of muscles from how tight the material was. A harness similar to your own sits snuggly against his waist, the leather material matching that of his pants.

You snap out of it when you realize you’ve been staring at his crotch for more than seemed appropriate. Humor is written all over his face when you meet his gaze once more, remembering that the beautiful stranger had in fact asked you a question.

“Yeah, that obvious?”

He just chuckles, leaning against the bar top as well, “You just look a little intimidated is all. What is it, the vampires or the fucking in public?”

You push the shot glass further away from you, “Neither, I’ve had my fair share of vampires and if fucking in public scared me I wouldn’t be here.” Your words have piqued his interest, “Just first time jitters.”

He nods in understanding, “Fair, lets do some ice breakers then, I’ll start.” He clears his throat and inches closer to you, his shoulder nudging against yours, “My name is Jungkook, I’m technically 24, I enjoy making short films and I really want to fuck you.”

The small gasp you let out is clearly picked up by his ears, the smirk returning on his face at your reaction, “Oh wow,” you let out a giggle and he’s enamored by it, “well, my names Y/N, I’m 25, I enjoy baking and I really want to fuck you too.”

Jungkook hums, his tongue running along his teeth, “That can be arranged you know.”

You take a glance behind him, taking in the entirety of the club in the flashes of light. Almost every surface had a couple, at least, in the act of fucking each other in one form or another. In the middle of it all were the people who just came for the atmosphere, dancing along to the music playing as if ten feet away someone wasn’t getting fucked in the ass.

“Where?” You ask shyly, this was after all your first time at a club like this. The rules of dibs regarding location was foreign to you, not knowing what was off limits or not but Jungkook seemed to be very familiar with the club.

“Lets ease you into it yeah?” He murmurs out, his cold hand gently grasping yours and tugging you behind him as he slides through people without a care. The crowd seemed to split for him, humans and vampires alike staring him down but he paid them no mind as he crossed the floor.

The further you walked the more the crowd dispersed until you reached a hallway, the maroon walls were lined up with fetish photos, portraits of girls wrapped up in shibari, men wearing gimp masks along with shadow boxes holding various sex toys. In between each one were open doors, the rooms having a bed in the middle of them with lovers on top, the sounds of pleasure spilling out of the rooms and into the hallway.

Jungkook continued to lead you down the hallway, reaching a room he knows will be unoccupied. It was his room, no one ever used it but him, it was almost like an unspoken rule that it belonged to him so when you rounded the corner and stepped into it, the fact that i was completely untouched didn’t surprise him.

The bed was right in the middle, dimly illuminated by two sconces on the wall behind it. The black silk sheets look inviting, the large gold bed frame drawing you forward until your palms rested on the mattress, your fingers rubbing the soft material.

“I didn’t know places like this had beds.”

Jungkook steps behind you, his hands grasping your hips gently and pulling you back into him, “Mm, theres also a pool in the basement but I can show you that later.” He dips his head down, nuzzling his nose into the juncture of your neck and inhaling when the scent of you invades his senses.

He could hear the pounding of your heart, the blood pulsing through your veins in excitement. Jungkook knew you weren’t scared, you had waves of eagerness rolling off of you. The rythm of your heart wasn’t one of fear and as much as he used to love playing with his meals, knowing he didn’t have to sweet talk you into calming down made this more enjoyable.

“Yeah, later–laters good.” Your eyes flutter shut when his lips touch your skin, gently trailing up your neck and reaching your jaw. One of the hands that was on your hips came up to cup your cheeks, yanking your head around to crash his lips against yours.

The lingering remains of the tequila you had thrown back makes its way into his mouth when his tongue meets yours as he licks his way inside. Slowly you fully turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck and forcing him closer to you as your tongues tangled together messily.

Jungkook makes quick work at unclasping the harness you had on, his fingers coming together on your back and undoing the metal hooks until the fabric sagged off of your body. His lips never leave yours as you drop your arms, letting the leather material hit the floor.

When his hands come up to grasp your tits you pause kissing him, the icyness of his palm making your nipples pebble and he just smirks, almost as if he knows that you’re thinking of how his cold hands would feel inside your cunt.

“Such a pretty little human.” He mumbles out when he pulls back and stares at your exposed chest, his fingers twisting your nipple.

“Please,” you groan out, leaning forward to reattach your lips but he inches back to tease you, a playful smile on his face. “you said you wanted to fuck me.”

He relases your nipple, his hands now coming to undo his own harness, the garment joining yours on the floor but with it comes the mesh shirt. Inch by inch his smooth skin comes into view, the muscles on his stomach rippling as he peels it off and tosses it without a care.

“I do want to fuck you, so badly.” His head tilts slightly at you, watching you standing by the bed with your arms by your side and a pout on your face. “I like taking my time though baby, can you be patient for me.”

He hears the small intake of breath you make, nodding your head immediately. Patient? Yeah you could be patient for him, you could be anything for him. Its like his voice had you in a trance, any request he had could be fulfilled without a problem.

Jungkook reaches for you once more, his lips melting against yours while his hands guide your hips backwards, helping you onto the bed and pushing you back with ease. He slowly pushes you back until you’re fullt resting on the mattress, your hair splayed out around you with him hovering above you, his knees on either side of your thighs.

Your lips smack together for a moment, Jungkook gently nipping your bottom lip enough to draw a small bead of blood. When his tongue laps it up he moans into your mouth, the coppery taste mixed in with a hint of sweetness has his cock twitching. A small taste of whats to come, it takes him all the restraint he has to stop himself from devouring you here and now.

“Tastes,” kiss “so,” kiss “sweet.” He groans out in between kisses, pressing against you harder before trailing his lips down your body. You lay there with your chest heaving, your mind spinning when you feel the wetness of his lips kissing down your chest.

He envelopes your nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking around it with a moan, his other hand coming up to knead the flesh of your neglected breast and you gasp at the feeling, your back arching into his touch.

Your brain forcing your limbs to come into action now, your hand slipping into his hair and pushing him closer to you. The sensation of your fingers yanking his strands urges him on, sucking on your nipple while looking up at you, your eyes blown out in the darkness of the room, the bright red of his making him look predatory.

He pulls back with a wet smack, looking down at your saliva coated flesh and humming to himself while his hand continues to twist your other nipple. “So sensitive.” He comments when you whine at a particular hard tug he gives you, your head falling back with a sigh.

“Jungkook please.”

He relents, releasing your nipple and continuing his quest down your body, you’re expecting him to tug down your tights, maybe undo the garter belt before taking it all off but instead his fingers hook into the holes in the tighs around your crotch and yank hard. The sound of the fabric ripping has you lifting your head back up, catching him in the act of tearing your tights apart until your black panties were fully exposed to him.

Jungkook had slid off the bed, kneeling in front of you, his arms hooking under your thighs to drag you forward a bit, a smile spreading across his face when you let out a small shriek of surprise. The heels of your shoes rest on his back, your thighs sitting snuggly on his shoulders.

You can feel his breath against your skin, his lips hovering over the flesh of your inner thighs, his fingers digging into you as he licks his lips over. The anticipation is killing you, forcing yourself to drop your head back down because watching him stare at you like that was filling your stomach with nerves.

The soft flick of his tongue on your inner thigh has you tensing up, your hands reaching down to grasp his own, your warm fingers curling around his while they wrapped around your legs. Jungkook trails soft kisses on your skin, taking his time sucking and biting around your panties, his tongue gently flicking over your clit, a teasing motion that you barely feel through the material of your underwear.

He chuckles when your hands clutch his with annoyance, you had told him you could be patient but you were really doubting yourself now. Maybe fucking him out in the open of the club would’ve given you satisfaction a lot quicker.

Just as you’re about to voice your frustration, Jungkook pulls a hand away from your thigh, hooking his finger on the edge of your panties and yanking them to the side. Your glistening core shines back on him, his mouth salivating at getting a taste of you, wondering if your cunt was as sweet as your blood.

“Fuck.” You gasp when he licks a broad stripe up your slit, his tongue gathering your wetness in a practice move, a satisfied moan leaving his mouth at the taste. Everything he had said about taking his time was out the window now, diving into you shamelessly.

He growls when your hand comes back to tangle into his hair, the slight burn of his scalp causing him to eat you with more determination. His lips wrap around your clit, slurping and sucking gently enough to have you whimpering, your back arching up into him at the feeling.

Jungkook smirks when he releases your clit, nosing against it while his fingers circle your entrance, slipping in without resistance. The dirty thought that had crossed your mind before had been proven correct, Jungkook’s long icy fingers felt amazing inside your heat, spreading you open as if they were meant to be there. When he adds a second one, scissoring inside of you to stretch you out, a moan dies in your throat when you choke out, his lips come back to your center in a frenzy.

You can feel every ridge of his finger inside of you, grazing the bundle of nerves each time they thrust out, coupled with the way he’s sucking on your clit its not a shock that you’re quivering on the bed. 

“So fucking wet.” He awes for a second, the tug on his scalp letting him know you needed him to go back to what he was doing. A gush of wetness escapes you, dripping down his palm and onto the floor and he hums, he can hear the pounding in your veins increase in speed, the fluttering of your heart sounding like music to his ears.

“C-close,” you keen out, your heels digging into him and bringing him closer, “fuck, bite me. Please bite me.”

Thats all Jungkook needed to hear, his fingers slip out of you to replace his mouth, quickly circling your clit to have you hurdling over the edge. You can feel the pressure building in your abdomen, the controlled flicks of his fingers have you whining out.

Just as you’re about to teeter over Jungkook dips down and kisses your inner thigh once more, opening his mouth to clamp over your skin. In a flash his fangs pierce your flesh, a brief feeling of searing pain shoots up your body before being replaced by intense pleasure when he fully latches on, lips suckling on your skin.

The rich liquid pours into his mouth, the same coppery sweet taste he had sampled earlier is increased with the pleasure you feel. Jungkook’s eyes roll back at the flavor, his fingers not letting up on your clit even with the choked gasp of his name as you reach your orgasm. 

Your body trembles underneath him, your hands grip on his hair loosening up as he quenches his thirst. Everything feels tingly, each nerve ending on your body being lit up from the intense orgasm you just experienced. When he pulls away from your thigh, traces of blood spilling around his mouth he moans, nuzzling his way back to your center, gently licking the remnants of your orgasm off of you, enjoying how you whimper on the bed.

“So good.” He rasps out, his eyes flicking up to look at you and you gasp at how much brighter they are, a ruby red sparkling in the dark of the room, his eyebrow cocked up as he trails his way back up your body, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and back onto the bed.

His leather clad legs press against you, the feeling of his hardened bulge against your hip has you shuddering. “I’m not done with you yet, I’m going to ruin you baby.” He kisses up your chest, his eyes never leaving yours. The fucked out look on your face makes him rut against you, “You sure you want this?”

Your arms wrap around his torso, nails digging into his back as you rut up into him. His head drops down onto your neck when you grind against him, your wetness smearing along the leather. “I need it, ruin me Jungkook.”

The hiss he lets out has your toes curling, moreso when his mouth kisses along your neck, a teasing nip of his teeth on your skin, “Oh I will.”

Jungkook reaches down with one hand to unbotton his jeans, tugging them down enough for his cock to slip free. You don’t get a chance to look it over, the size of it being a total suprise to you since his lips were no on yours again, your eyes slipping shut as they worked together, teeth knocking into each other in a hurry.

He wraps a hand around himself, sighing into your mouth as he gives himself a pump. “Jungkook.” You groan into his mouth, wiggling your hips around as he positions himself between your thighs. He nudges your thighs further apart, your heels resting on the edge of the bed while his knees sink into the mattress.

“I know baby.” He mumbles against your lips, pressing another kiss to them. Thats when you feel the tip of his cock pressing against you, a slow rut of his hips following as he coats his length in your arousal.

Your nails dig into his back once more, the silk sheets gliding against your skin when you arch your back to get some sort of friction from him.

Jungkooks eyes are glued to where you meet, watching in admiration when he tugs your underwear to the side and eases himself into you, his cock sinking into your heat slowly. The feeling of him stretching you open has you moaning out loud, your head thrown back and exposing your neck to him.

“Fuck baby, you’re taking me so well.”

The stretch feels almost impossible for a second, you hadn’t seen his length but the feeling of it alone made it obvious that he was the biggest you’d ever had. When he bottoms out, his hips resting flush against your ass you whimper out.

“Feel so full.” You slur, humming softly when he kisses your cheek tenderly.

Jungkook just chuckles, “Gonna fuck you stupid.” Thats the only warning he gives you before inching back, rolling into you over and over until you’re adjusted to his size.

You knew after today you’d be ruined, you’d slept with your fair share of vampires but the way Jungkook’s cock split you open, pistoning into you in the most delicious way, you were done for.

The feeling of your nails digging in his back had him hissing, his arms caging you in underneath him. His eyes were focused on the way your breasts jiggled at every thrust, your body jostling upwards from the strength of them. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, your mouth dropped open as moans spilled out through your lips.

Jungkook was fucking you well and truly stupid, you looked lost in your pleasure, your walls fluttering around his length when he hit your sweet spot.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “so big. So–“ a gasp cuts you off when he speeds up his thrusts, the skin of his thighs smacking against yours with new found energy.

“Where’d those first time jitters go?” He wonders, one hand coming up to softly trail down your face, inching down until theyre placed around your neck, his fingers feeling the ferocious pulsing from your jugular.

“Such a fearless little human.” He grunts out with a groan, “Letting me do what I want with you, do you have any idea what I could do to you?”

A whimper leaves your mouth, your hips coming up to rut in time against his. You knew what he could do to you, if he really wanted to he could rip out your throat and drink you dry. Maybe it was the masochist inside of you, the idea of not knowing what could actually happen, of not being in control of the situation, that kept you going.

“I don’t care.”

That has a curious smile spreading across his face, “No? All you care about is my cock huh?”

You’re nodding immediately, yes his cock is all you care about. The way its stretching you open, the length of it hitting places inside of you without even trying. He fucked you like it was second nature to him, his thrusts being well timed, as if he knew the right way to get you falling apart underneath him.

“Can I–“ you press your palms against his chest lightly, the smal act of resistence causing him to still completely. He watches on curiously when you shimmy out from under him, your knees knocking into his as you turn over onto the bed on your hands and knees.

You’re facing the door now, seeing the flashes of light and the occasional person walking by the door and you briefly remember where you are. Jungkook watches you wiggle your hips at him, your fishnets stretched tightly over your ass.

“So fucking sexy.” He steps off of the bed, taking the time now to fully slip out of his pants, kicking them off and onto the floor before kneeling back onto the bed. His hands grasp your ass, kneading the flesh of them as he settles behind you, his palm coming up to land with a loud smack onto your skin. The sound mixing in with the thrumming bass of the club music and the moan you let out.

“C’mon, fuck me stupid.” You tease, dropping onto your elbows and spreading your thighs apart as you arch your back.

“Mm, careful what you ask for baby.”

His large palm splays across your back, pushing you down further while his other guides his cock back into you. The first thrust is a lot smoother than the last, the glide of your wetness helping him ease in to the hilt. This position has him reaching in deeper inside of you, your hands fisting the cool sheets as you moan out his name.

Its messy, the way his dick squelches every time it re-enters your, wetness coating his cock and dripping down onto the sheets. His palms grasp your hips, fingers digging into your flesh roughly. He knew he could crush you if he wanted to and the fact that you still laid here, drunk off his cock instead of running away, he knew he was just as ruined as you were.

“Jung-jungkook.” You gasp out, rutting back onto him with a small laugh and it catches his attention when he notices one of your hands come up to point at the door, “we have a visitor.”

He hums when his eyes lock onto the observer, another vampire he was familiar with, the dark red hair of Jung Hoseok flashes in the light. He’s leaning against the door frame, a drink in his hand as he watches on nonchalantly.

“Lets give them a show then yeah?”

He grinds against you with more purpose, one hand coming around to your front to meet your clit, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers until you’re trembling. Your pussy clamps around him, your mouth dropping open in a lewd moan, burying your face into the sheets while you let yourself get lost in the feeling of it all.

Knowing Jungkook was having his way with you while someone watched lit a fire inside of you, the way you were creaming his cock being evidence enough that you were clearly enjoying yourself.

“Harder, fuck me harder.”

Jungkook fulfills your request, starting to thrust into your heat harshly with no qualms about having a spectator. “You’re soaked baby, you gonna make a mess of these sheets?”

All of your senses are full of him, just him and his cock and the way he pounds into you, his fingers flicking against your clit with expertise. His grasp on your hips is the only thing keeping you from toppling over, your upper body laying limp on the bed as you let his ravish you.

When your eyes look up, meeting the gaze of the stranger by the door you smirk, sending them a wink and earning a chuckle from them.

Jungkook can feel you tightening up around him, his own release creeping up inside of him. He needs to taste you again, “Let me have another bite baby.”

He bends over your body until his nose pushes against your hair draped over your neck, a deep inhale sending shivers down your spine. Your hand comes up to move your hair out of the way, mewling when he nudges against your skin, “Oh god, yes.”

His lips latch onto you seconds later, the now familiar feeling of his fangs sinking into your skin making your whole body tense up this time. Your limbs lock up as he moans against your flesh, the warm blood dribbling into his mouth. Blood always tasted different coming straight from the jugular, the taste of it making his eyes roll back as he quickly ruts into you.

The euphoric feeling of him drinking from you pushes you over the edge once more, the pleasure sparking from the open wound until it reaches all of your limbs. Your walls clamp around him impossibly tight as you cum, a shout of his name leaving you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His lips never leave your neck, suckling the blood from you as your body trembles underneath his. A weak whimper leaving your lips sends him over, his balls tensing up until he’s spilling into you, thrusting his hips against yours as deep as he could. The warmth of his cum fills you up, a soft sigh sounding out when he finally detaches from your neck, the smear of blood around your neck being licked up by him as he shallowly thrusts a few more times.

“Shit.”

Your eyes look up once more to find that the other vampire was now gone, leaving you and Jungkook alone once more, his cock still buried inside of you, your neck throbbing slightly after the abuse.

When he pulls out of you your hips full drop onto the mattress, the cool sheets feeling like heaven against your warm body. Jungkook chuckles at your worn out form, gently grasping you to flip you over to face the ceiling, not giving you a moment to recover before slotting his lips against your own.

You taste your own blood on your tongue, the coppery tang being new to you but you don’t mind it, not with the way he kisses you like you were more than just a messy fuck. He pulls back after a second and you grin at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, your thumb rubbing the drying blood from his chin.

“What did I taste like?”

He presses another kiss against you, “Like fucking heaven, I could die eating your pussy.”

The wink he sends you makes you blush, swatting his chest lightly with a laugh, “I meant my blood you perv.”

“Oh I’m the perv now?” He teases, catching your hand before you can smack him again, “I think you ruined me too baby, never tasted blood this sweet.”

You bite your lip at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes in an almost innocent way as if you hadn’t just participated in this scandalous act. He wanted nothing more than to proposition you into being his blood bag, a somewhat intimate request but he knew it was useless. Considering you had never been to this club before he knew you weren’t from around here, you’d be long gone in a few days, a distant memory that would simmer away over time and for some reason it pained him to think that so he chose to suppress it.

“Let me walk you home, you never know what monsters could be lurking.”

That same giggle that enamored him earlier is back now, “If I could handle you I could handle anyone.”

His eyebrows arch up at your teasing tone, a smirk curling his lip as he stares you down, “Is that so?” His eyes have that same predatory look in them, your skin breaking out into goosebumps at the way he stares at you, looking like he’s ready to dive in once more.

He wasn’t finished with you yet.

#goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #vampire!jk #jeon jungkook #jungkook one shot

[marvelsbetch]

Peter Parker’s little sister

In this story Tony never died in Endgame because he deserved so much better.

-Peter's POV-

It had been a few week since the massive battle against Thanos and the world has some-what gone back to normal. The main problem was that mine and Aunt May's apartment had been taken by a small family. We had no where to go. Mr Stark had decided to start making tech again and bought back Stark tower to live in.

Luckily Mr Stark had a few extra rooms and allowed us to stay with him. This was amazing as it allowed us to work in the labs for as long as we wanted, with Aunt May and Pepper's approval, and I never had to worry about hiding Spider Man from Aunt May. It also allowed Tony to keep a close eye on me when ever I got injured, which happens quite a lot when you're in a new environment and don't know your way around. Or where the doorways are, you'd thing my spidy sense would help but apparently not. Also, a major perk to living with Tony was also living with Morgan. Morgan was the most adorable little girl anyone could ever lay eyes on. I remember when I first met her.

-The day after the boss battle-

It was the day after the battle and Mr Stark had invited me and Aunt May to eat at his lake house. When we arrived I was immediately greeted but a small child, five or so, who invited us in.

"Morgan, you can't just invite people in without asking me or mommy." Mr Stark lightly scolded the child before hugging me and my Aunt while saying his hellos.

"But Daddy it's only Peter." The child rebutted shocking me. Who was this kid?

"Morgan that doesn't matter. Anyway, meet Morgan, my five year old daughter. Morgan this is Peter and his Aunt May." Tony introduced.

"Hello Morgan. How come you know who I am?" I asked her gently.

"My daddy always talks about you all the time. He said you were basically his son, this makes you my big brother." Morgan explained making Me and Mr Stark go a bit red faced.

"Dinners ready!" Pepper yelled diffusing the kind of awkward situation as we all made out way to the dinning room.

We all took our places at the table, Tony at the head, me next to Morgan and Aunt May facing me next to Pepper. It didn't take us long before the conversation started again and soon we were all laughing and joking like old friends. Well, I guess we all kind of are.

After food we moved into the living room where Aunt May started asking questions about the battle and how they figured out what to do. Tony was telling the story of when he decided to help when Morgan came over and sat on my lap. I froze up not knowing what to do and tried to capture the attention of Pepper or Mr Stark without disturbing Morgan to no avail.

"Peter, are you really my big brother?" Morgan asked looking at me with her large brown eyes.

"I can be if you want me to be." I told her smiling. Who can deny that face.

"Can you really walk on ceilings? Daddy told me a story where you walked on the ceiling in his old house." Morgan asked with her eyes lighting us.

"I can. Wanna see?" I offered. Her large eyes lit up at the prospect of seeing me walk upside down.

"Yes please." She responded.

I smiled before moving her off my lap and walking over to the wall ready to climb up only the ceiling. Once I did I looked over at everyone and saw Morgan's eyes shining like a thousands suns.

"I have the coolest big brother ever!" She yelled and dust bumped the air making everyone laugh at her enthusiasm.

"Peter be careful. I only just got you back and I don't want to loose you to a slight fall." Mr Stark told me making me smile. He does care.

"Okay Mr Stark." I said before climbing down and touching my feet to the ground.

"After everything and you still call me Mr Stark." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"Fine Dad. Is that better?" I asked sarcastically but seriously. Does that make sense? Oh well.

"Much." He smirked before standing up and ruffling up my hair.

"Daddy leave my big brother alone." Morgan scolded her father and pushed him away from me.

"Don't mess with me. I have Morgan Stark on my side." I warned everyone before picking Morgan up and placing her on my hip.

"Yeah. And I've got Spider Man on mine." Morgan added making everyone laugh.

The rest of the night was spent playing games and catching up on the last five years. Also, explaining Spider Man to Aunt May because that was something I forgot to do before hand. She almost killed me but it was okay in the end.

-Present Time-

"Peter! Peter wake up!" Morgan yelled while jumping on me. This kid could do some damage.

"Alright sergeant Stark. I'm awake." I sighed while sitting up before pulling her back down and tickling her.

Her sweet giggles filled the room for a few seconds before the sound of a camera click caught my attention. I looked up to find Mr St-Dad (still getting used to it) stood in my door way with a camera in his hands.

"Come on kids. Breakfast is ready." He informed before walking away smiling like a maniac.

"Petey I'm hungry." Morgan complained and stuck her bottom lip out, looking very adorable if I do say so myself.

"Come on them. To food we go!" I yelled before picking the small child up and carrying her to the kitchen area and placing her on one of the bar stools.

"Here are your pancakes. And here are yours." Pepper informed while placing two plates of pancakes lathered in maple syrup infront of me and Morgan. Big mistake.

Once we wolfed down those pancakes me and Morgan ran off to cause our required daily amount of mischief for the day. Target one: Dad.

We slowly and quietly walked down to the lab where Dad was working on some piece of technology. Hasn't really changed.

"Okay we need a plan. What've you got?" I whispered to Morgan.

"We could sneak up on his and shout boo really really loudly down his ear. It always scares him." Morgan whispered back.

"Sounds like a plan. Let's move out." I spoke while we continued to creep down the stairs and towards Dad, who had his back turned to the open door.

"BOO!" We yelled right down his ear before quickly running back up the stairs and to the main living area.

"Hey Pepper." I greeted before throwing myself onto a vacant couch closely followed by Morgan who jumped on me. Heavy child.

"Oof Morgan. You're heavy." I fake complained in a strained voice.

"No I not. You're super strong like uncle Steve." Morgan said matter of factly.

"Am I now? How do you know that?" I asked lifting my head up to look at her.

“Daddy told me. He told me the story about how to picked a house up 'cause a bad man threw it on you." Morgan informed.

"He did now. What else did your Daddy tell you about me?" I asked in genuine curiosity.

"You'll be sat there all day before she's even half way finished." Pepper informed before getting off of the other couch and walking out of the room.

Morgan then explained every single story Dad had told her about in my absence, even stuff I didn't tell him about like the house party with Liz and Flash. What a disaster. And my time in Berlin, he even showed her the recordings I had made. I also found out that Tony managed to take all of mine and Aunt May's personal items with him after the dusting as I call it. Things like family air looms and and cameras were stored in a spare room at the lake house, which the family still owned.

After a few hours of stories I had never felt so loved in my life after hearing how much Tony had praised me in my absence. As much as he pretends to be this cold figure to the public, me and my little sister know his true cinnamon roll centre. The big softie Stark and his two minions.

#peter parker #peter x harley #peter parker protection squad #adopted peter parker #bi peter parker #gay peter parker #peter stark #dad tony #dad tony stark #morgan stark #father figure tony stark #pepper stark #stark family #Tony stark 3 children #soft Tony stark #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #domestic avengers #domestic fluff #no endgame #alive Tony stark

[capesandshapes]

All You Had To Do Was Stay (Adrienette) (2/4)

Summary:

Three years ago, Marinette revealed her identity to him. Three years ago, he promised to wait in a hotel room for her. Three years ago, she opened the door to find it empty.

Now she's expected to play nice with him, since she's the maid of honor and he's unfortunately the best man. But old habits die hard, and old feelings die harder.

"This is a wedding, not a death march, Marinette."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had gone overboard.

Marinette had one job, and they had gone overboard.

Okay, she had five jobs—but at the moment it felt like only one, and at the moment, that job was completely and utterly failed.

Every single surface of the bakery was covered in cakes. Every godly combination of cake, every possible frosting, every style of decoration, every type of vanilla—And that wasn’t even the end of it.

No! Because what if, at the very last moment, Alya and Nino had needed cupcakes or a pie or a tarte. Were they sure they didn’t want cookies? They could include them in the gift bags! And savory cakes weren’t off the table either, Marinette’s father reassured them that he could stay up the whole night and bake enough for Paris if they needed.

Not to mention the eight boxes on the counter behind Marinette—She’d been looking thin! This past week Tom had been worried that she’d been depressed—Never mind the fact that she was—and his little girl needed her favorite treats… Which meant every sweet she had ever so much as smiled at, and so many dumplings that Marinette would have to freeze them and eat them for months to come. Nino and Alya had similar offerings behind them.

Nino and Alya also had strained looks on their faces.

The cake tasting had gone over an hour later than it was supposed to, and there was no possible way out. Nino checked his smartwatch a thousand times, but every attempt he made at opening his mouth found his plate refilled.

“I just love weddings,” Marinette’s father proclaimed, tears in the corners of his eyes.

Marinette couldn’t miss the soft mumble of her mother trying to calm him, “someday, Tom.” She did her best to eat then, if only to soothe the two of them.

Her parents didn’t know what had happened between her and Adrien, only that one day he was there and the next day he jetted out of Paris. It was better that it stayed that way, god forbid they found out. She didn’t want to be there the moment that her father realized; she didn’t think she could stand to have him look at her afterwards.

He always wanted the world to be good to her, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that it hadn’t been. That she’d faced monsters he couldn’t imagine and had skirted the line between life and death as a hero of Paris. That was one secret he would never know.

“I really do have to go, Mister Dupain,” Nino tried for the hundredth time as her dad placed four more slices on his plate. “There’s this thing and I… I mean, I can’t leave my dude waiting.”

“You could invite them here,” Tom said, serving Alya a slice of spiced rum cake. The young woman teetered between blissful and concerned. “Like I always say, the more the merrier.”

“Yeah, that’s like, a completely valid statement in some cases but…” Nino trailed off, flinching. Her dad frowned. “I mean, it’s not you! Definitely not you guys, you’re amazing—Marinette is amazing!” He quickly added. “It’s just one of those things…”

“We’re not hip anymore, or they don’t like cake?” Tom pushed. “Because I have croissants, croquettes, even a quiche or two! If they’re gluten intolerant, I have a whole spread!”

“No, no! He loves your stuff!” Nino immediately flinched the moment he said it.

The gears began to turn in her father’s head at the same time Marinette nearly choked on her slice of cake. “Adrien!” His face lit up with familiarity, making the obvious guess since the blond’s return was the talk of Paris. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen him, honey!” He immediately turned to her mother, and Marinette could see him quickly begin to recall the young man’s order.

“Three years,” Marinette finally butted in, supplementing the information her father would no doubt demand to know. “It’s been three years.”

“He must have gotten so skinny,” her father said with an edge of concern, “Sabine, we should make a box!” Her mother was already ahead of him.

Alya butted in, swallowing the remainder of her cake in one bite. “I mean, he’s still a model, maybe he shouldn’t come. I mean, the temptation, the…” She looked to Marinette to supplement, all the woman could do was vigorously nod her head, “carbs.” Alya winced.

“Nonsense, everyone knows those diets aren’t healthy,” Sabine began.

“He’s really into them,” Alya insisted.

“Well,” Sabine continued, fully dedicated to the idea of helping such a poor, starving model, “we’ll fix that. Call him up.”

“That’s…”

“—I’m sure Marinette wants to see him,” Sabine finished.

Oh, how utterly wrong she was. “Call him,” Marinette said, trying to make the strange way that she pulled back her lips look more like a smile than a wince of pain, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

****************

The worst that could happen was that he could show up. And he did.

And suddenly, there he was. Adrien. Standing in her parents’ shop door, a familiar blue scarf around his neck tied almost as tightly as her father’s arms were wrapped around him. Laughing, smiling, acting like nothing had happened and like he hadn’t been gone for three years.

Until he saw her.

“You sit next to Marinette, Adrien,” Sabine insisted, “we don’t want to break up the lovebirds.”

She swore she saw him swallow.

He looked different in real life compared to his Instagram posts, she was pleased to see. They’d erased the small bags underneath his eyes, the creasing beginning to form between his brows, and that persistent memory of a smile that hung on his lips even when he was meaning to look stoic and thoughtful. She was a little thankful for it, because that meant that the man she sometimes looked at in the middle of the night, that she spent far too much time on, was fake. She wasn’t crying over the real Adrien Agreste while he was lounging on a beach somewhere with flawless skin and a perfect smile.

“It’s been a long time, Marinette,” he said as he settled beside her, his voice soft and almost inaudible. She couldn’t place the tone of it.

“Whose fault is that,” her response was sarcastic and the smile she put on for her parents’ sake was fake. She’d rather he sat in a dumpster outside.

He winced.

“So,” Tom carried on, loading up a plate for Adrien to the point that Marinette was almost afraid of it cracking, “New York, Berlin, Rome, Moscow, and Sydney! You’re really well-traveled now, Adrien, I’m a little jealous! I’m afraid to say that I didn’t pin you for a globetrotter, but maybe I was a little wrong in that! You’ve done some really impressive things these past years.”

“Yeah,” he said, accepting the plate from Tom with a gracious nod, “I’ve really gone out there, but I’m happy to be home. I always tell everyone that my heart is in Paris. I was sad to leave it.”

“So, you’ll be staying around then?” Sabine perked up.

“For a few months, maybe if I’m lucky a few years,” he said. “It really depends on how things go.” Looking down at his plate, Adrien said, “I sort of left a lot of things up in the air when I left Paris.”

If there was a word for the look Marinette shot him out of the corner of her eye, it was poisonous.

It was Tom’s turn to speak again, he continued his interrogation of Adrien as Sabine shot her daughter a questioning look, and Alya gave Marinette a warning kick from her seat a few inches away. “So, what’s on the checklist while you’re here? Any sights you have to see, things you have to do, friends you have to check in with?”

All anger melted away, dissolving into the utterly terrifying sea of embarrassment. Alya’s eyes widened in mock horror as the color left Marinette’s face, the way he said friends let there be no mistake, her father was going to try to wingman for her.

“I think most of his friends are gone by now—” Marinette quickly interrupted.

“Well, I have my father’s house to sell, I’d like to check in with a few victims of akumatization, and—” he paused at her statement, his eyes quickly looking over to her and catching her gaze for a split second. “I had some friends I wanted to check in,” he said, his tongue wetting his lips in an awkward show of unease.

“Had,” Marinette emphasized, drawing the line.

“Had,” Adrien repeated, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He sat up a little straighter, looking back to the Dupain-Chengs. “It’s been a long time.” Indeed, it had been.

*****************

Somehow they made it through all the cakes, her parents sending each home with an additional box of their favorites so that they could be absolutely sure of their selections. Alya and Nino went home together, and there was an option for Marinette to stay at her parents, but one look at her mother’s eyes roaming over her like a crime scene and Marinette knew she wouldn’t take it.

She always liked the walk home anyway, and her parents wanted to speak to Adrien a little longer. So, giving the slightest of waves, she walked out.

She only realized what an awful choice that was minutes later, when she heard the pounding of pavement behind her and a familiar voice calling her name. “Hey, Marinette, wait up!” Adrien.

Maybe if she pretended not to hear it, he would go away.

He did not go away.

“Marinette!”

“I should have just stayed home, I should have just slept in my childhood bed,” Marinette mumbled, cursing the fact that she didn’t live near a tourist destination where she could easily vanish into the crowds. No, instead she was walking down a quiet, empty street; one where it was impossible to ignore him.

“Hey,” he said when he finally caught up to her, and she clenched her eyes shut as tightly as possible as if that would somehow make him go away.

Hey, that was what he had to say? Three years and she gets a hey? “Hey,” she said back, her voice dripping with unenthusiasm. What on earth did he think he was doing?

She opened her eyes to see his hand at the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face. “I, uh, just wanted to say hi.” Right.

“Of course,” she said awkwardly, “that’s all you want to say, right. Thank you,” she paused. “Hi,” she reiterated, echoing the statement back at him. As if they hadn’t just spent four hours trying cakes together, as if he hadn’t sat right beside her in her parents’ shop, as if she wasn’t freaking Ladybug and he Chat Noir.

They were on hi terms now. What even were hi terms?

He quickened his pace to keep up with her. “Listen, uh,” he tried again, “I want this to work out.”

He caught the look on her face.

“The wedding,” he quickly clarified. “Their wedding, not ours. Because, you know, there won’t be an our wedding, there will be a… their wedding. And that’s uh…,” he was trying not to ramble, she could tell. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she parroted back.

“I just want to get through this,” he started quickly, and his eyes immediately widened as he realized what he said and how it could be misunderstood. He tried to open his mouth again, but she stopped him before he could get more words out.

“We will,” she said.

“Right, because we’re…” A team? He’d ended that. “Good at working together,” he said, and even Marinette had to flinch at how lame it sounded.

“Yeah, I’m sure we are,” Marinette replied, letting her eyes drift down to the sidewalk. She didn’t want it to last too much longer, she didn’t want him to see that she still lived in the same place. She didn’t want him to have another part of her life.

She couldn’t afford for him to.

And yet there he was, and she could tell that he wanted it. That he wanted another part of her life, that he wanted—god, what did he want? To ruin her again? To make the fact that it wasn’t going to happen completely clear?

“I missed you,” he said suddenly, his voice low and almost croaking.

“Go home, Adrien.”

#marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfiction #my fanfic #part two

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

Ready to Eat | Peter Parker

Summary: You stay with Peter while Aunt May is gone for the weekend and he gets hot & bothered while you’re making french toast.

Genre​: Smut

Warning: 18+. NSFW, Female Receiving Oral, Dirty Talk, Slight Overstimulation, Sex in the Kitchen

The warmth from the city radiated through the open windows, the smallest bit of a breeze a relief as the curtains in the small New York apartment fluttered. Dressed in only a tank top and terry cloth shorts, you hummed and wiped the perspiration from your forehead. You were stirring some french toast batter as Peter sliced thick cuts of the freshly baked sourdough from the next bakery two blocks over, his foot tapping to the radio. 

Aunt May was gone for the weekend, a blessing that the two of you needed. Not having spent alot of time together now that Pete had been off and running with Tony had put a damper on your relationship. No matter how many times he begged Mr. Stark to let you tag alone to Berlin and Rome, Tony wouldn’t budge.

Peter, pout always present on his plush lips, would apologize profusely. He would kiss the crinkle on the bridge of your nose repeatedly, promises of taking photos of your favorite spots and bringing back gifts for your troubles. You were proud that the boy was an Avenger, the very thought that he was desperate to always save someone made your heart skip a beat, no matter how frustrated you got with the distance.

So weekends like this, where Happy would wink at the two of you while he escorted May on a getaway to a beach house, were the best. The two of you would dance around each other, late night movies showing from under a blanket fort. Peter would convince you deviously to go watch the stars from a skyline rooftop; it was always magic.

This morning though, Peter had been incredibly ansty. More so than usual. His strong calloused hands brushed your hips a bit longer in the morning when you woke, his thighs clenched under his boxers when you stretched and rolled out of bed. Even while brushing your teeth, his narrowed gaze watched your every move from his bedside. 

He loosened slightly at the mention of making french toast but he still watched you quietly, eyes trailing your dance moves with his tongue poking out. He was doing it again now, tip of his pink tongue pressed between his teeth as his eyes glazed over. “Peter,” you called once more as he heavily blinked and shook his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, finishing his cut. “What’d you say? I missed that?” you chuckled as he lined the pan with the bread so that you could pour the batter over. You moved in harmony for a moment.

“I said, what are you fantasizing about over there?” playfully knocking his hip with yours as you finished the batter and set the bowl down. A stream of the cinnamon sweet goodness dripping off your fingertip, tongue swirling around your digit to lick up the mess. He exhaled deeply and shifted.

His voice dropped two octaves as he replied, “You.” It wasn’t in the way he did when he was trying to be Spiderman, a deep rumble as if he had been screaming for long periods of time and his vocal cords were strained. A knot turned in your tummy, sheepish smile falling over your face. You began to flip the slices of bread, no response to his words.

Peter hummed and his presence overwhelmed you as he stepped behind you, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself as he pulled your hair to one side and kissed your neck at a dangerously slow pace. It was lazy, the pepper of kisses in the warm Summer heat making your palms sweaty. His hands wrapped around your waist, pads of fingertips tugging your waist to grind his hips into your ass.

You gasped lightly at the feeling of his hard-on grazing against the thin material. Giggles couldn’t help but bubble out of your chest like butterflies fluttering into the air. Everything made sense now, Peter’s shifty movements suddenly clicking as his horniness reached an all time high. “Is someone horny?” you mumbled, ass pushing back against him so that he could rut harder against your rump. 

Peter whined at the friction, fingers digging into your flesh as his mouth brushed over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be honest,” he groaned as you rolled against him again, catching him off guard. “I’ve been thinking about eating you out all morning.” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you dropped the last slice into the batter as it splattered onto your tee shirt. 

When you didn’t protest, his hands paused. “Is that alright?” Peter’s voice rasped against your skin. Your breath caught in your throat so the only thing that you could do was nod repeatedly. He smiled against your skin, pecking your cheek as he dipped into your shorts and yanked them in a rush down your smooth legs. Hands dragged your bare ass so that you were bent over the counter, your arms draped under your warm forehead. 

Peter traced down your soft thighs as he leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to your ass before he nibbled on your plump flesh. You squealed at the feeling, a sharp smack coming down on your bum. You leaned forward away from his spanking as he laughed and got to his knees. “You’re glistening babe,” he murmured, one hand resting against your lower back to keep you in place as he licked straight up your slit, inhaling your scent.

“You taste so good,” he growled, tongue dipping into your folds and devouring you as Peter’s knee bumped your ankle. You spread your tight legs further apart to allow Peter more access, pushing back against his rough tongue. He clenched your thigh soothingly as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked harshly. 

You cried out, gripping the bar of the oven to your right to keep yourself steady. Kitten licks turned into long drags as he suckled all of the juices you were offering. His velvet tongue dipped into your hole, fingers coming up to stroke your clit as he began to bring you to a climax.

They dipped into you, pumping in and out quickly as he ravished your pussy. “Oh god, Peter,” you rocked your hips eagerly as he added a second finger. You were so wet, the slurping sound coming from Pete’s mouth the only sound you could focus on as you closed your eyes to allow the orgasmic bliss to rush over you. Your back arched as you came in Peter’s mouth, his nose and lips pushing you through your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, lapping away as he cleaned you up. You tried to push his head away, knees buckling as his fingers moved through your slick folds to push you to your second orgasm. You moaned loudly, flushed face slammed against the counter as drool melted off your lips.

When his craving was satisfied, he kissed your ass one last time and got off his knees. Peter’s knuckles soothed over your skin as he held you close to him and rocked you back and forth. “How was that?” he grinned, licking your juices off his mouth. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you panted, arms wrapping around his and you hummed, head lulled back against Peter’s shoulder. He inhaled, amused. You turned in his arms, hand cupping his package. 

Your petite hands slid down his chest to his waistband teasingly. “Now let me return the favor while you cook the french toast.”

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[xtruss]

Cornelia Bohn stands among oak barrels in her whiskey distillery in the German village of Schönermark. The trained pharmaceutical engineer has been producing her Preußischer Whisky single malt since 2009. Photograph By Patrick Pleul, Picture Alliance/DPA/AP Images

— By Mike MaCeacheran | February 2, 2021

The whole scene along this whiskey road trip is strangely familiar: historic castles and deer-filled forests, then rows of ploughed soil, golden barley fields, and the sweet scent of cereal grains.

But this isn’t somewhere in Scotland. Nor is it in Ireland or the United States. This is Brandenburg, a sparsely populated region in Germany surrounding Berlin. It the most compact part of a seductive new whiskey country that has upwards of 250 producers—almost twice as many as Scotland, yet with just a fraction of the visitors. Factor in an increasing emphasis on grain-to-glass provenance, and it’s evident that interest in German whiskey is rocketing.

With five compelling distilleries all within a 60-mile radius of the new Berlin-Brandenburg Airport (which opened in October 2020), Brandenburg is a fruitful place to taste whiskey. A circumnavigation of the German capital region promises new-found tradition and adventure in equal measure, with warehouses, whiskey cellars, and sampling rooms.

“Distilling has been part of Brandenburg’s fabric for centuries,” says Cornelia Bohn, producer of Preußischer Whisky. “But this knowledge was lost during the Communist era when liquor production was controlled and limited to state-produced vodka. It’s amazing to think that whiskey was an outlaw spirit, only available on the black market. So we’re catching up now.”

Spirited Revival

No manufacturer is doing more to put German whiskey on the map than Bohn. Growing up behind the Berlin Wall in Soviet-occupied Uckermark in the former German Democratic Republic, she fell in love with the romance of whiskey advertisements broadcast from uncensored West German TV channels. She took note of the smoky bars, the clinking glasses, the talk of exotic overseas adventures, and revered the banned liquor without ever having tasted it. For her, it represented the West, escape from behind the Iron Curtain, and freedom.

When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, and Bohn crossed the unified German capital for the first time, one small shop caught her eye. “Everyone was gifted 100 Deutsche marks welcome money on arrival and my first instinct was to buy a bottle of whiskey,” says Bohn, who was 24 at the time. “It was a Johnnie Walker, and it was the most amazing moment of my life.”

A barley field in the Uckermark region, known as the granary of Brandenburg, glows golden at sunset. Photograph By Preussischer Whisky

Now 31 years later, Bohn is one of Germany’s most respected whiskey makers and one of the first women to open her own distillery. As Rumpelstiltskin spun gold from straw, she has turned a modest family inheritance into a label born from a teenage dream, producing Germany’s only organic single malt.

Here in the Uckermark region, grasslands tip into beech woods and pastures filled with black horses that, tradition dictates, are still used to pull carriages for village weddings and funerals. The Friesians are central to the local Slavic culture and, fittingly, Bohn’s stills are housed in red-brick stables. The Preußischer mascot, too, is a sleek colt sporting a pickelhaube, a spiked soldier’s helmet. (Preußischer translates to “Prussian.”)

The woman-owned Preußischer Whisky is one of the hundreds of German distillers gaining global recognition. Photograph BY Patrick Pleul, Picture Alliance/DPA/AP Images

Tales like this are everywhere in Brandenburg, hidden behind distillery doors and in the barley and rye fields. At Grumsiner Brennerei, the attitude towards whiskey is to dig deeper into the past. Distillery owner Thomas Blätterlein is reviving ancient strains of forgotten grains.

One cereal is East Prussian eppweizen, an overlooked wheat used for his fruity, single-grain malt Mammoth. On the nose, the hay-gold spirit hints at caramel; the taste is floral and lightly spiced.

Grain Expectations

Less than 40 miles southeast of Berlin, former bartender Bastian Heuser founded Stork Club/Spreewald, Germany’s first rye whiskey distillery, in the village of Schlepzig. Flour mills, witch’s-hat spires, and ramshackle farmsteads point to the town’s centuries-old heritage.

The distillery’s origins began with a road trip. In 2015, Heuser and co-owners Steffen Lohr and Sebastian Brack were looking for a particular cask to take back to Berlin. It turned out that the incumbent owner of one distillery they visited had no family and was looking for a successor.

Left: Spreewald Distillery, located in Schlepzig, produces Stork Club, Germany’s first rye whiskey. Photograph By Markus Schreiber, AP Images Right: Bastian Heuser stands next to a 600-liter (158-gallon) still. The former Berlin barkeeper co-founded Stork Club/Spreewald Distillery. Photograph By Bernd Settnik, Picture Alliance/DPA/AP Images

“Serendipity,” recalls Heuser. “The absurdity is we went from wanting to buy just the one barrel to taking over an entire distillery.”

Behind its brick walls, the venue retains the cobbled courtyard, whiskey barn, and garden built a century ago, but the brand’s hipster vibe is clearly here-and-now.

Ostensibly, what Stork Club offers the visitor is stunning whiskey. But the distillery is cleverly engineered on the Spreewald canal network. An added thrill is discovering more than 200 intertwined waterways vibrant with wildlife, including 250 pairs of white storks that return each year to nest. A punting trip into the marshy meadows, where the crank of the mash tun fades to silence, comes highly recommended. At times, it is too easy to miss that the wilderness is in the thick of the largest rye-growing greenbelt in Europe.

Visitors to Spreewald Distillery can make a day of it with a boat ride along the region’s canal network. Photograph By Hans-Joachim Aubert, Alamy Stock Photo

“Most German distilleries look towards Scotland for inspiration,” Heuser says. “But we’re more drawn to whiskies made in the United States. It’s funny, really, because rye is part of Brandenburg’s history, but we’ve never wholly embraced it. Until now.”

Transatlantic Ties

Pull this thread and a whole other backstory unravels. Where Brandenburg rye really prevails is across the Atlantic in the stills of some of the largest distillers in the United States, including Kentucky’s Wild Turkey and Four Roses, both of which stockpile the region’s crop. It would be difficult, in fact, to overstate the impact of Germany’s distilling heritage on the U.S., with the roots of many distilleries on the American Whiskey Trail and Kentucky Bourbon Trail first sown by immigrants.

“It’s no great surprise Germans kickstarted the pre-Prohibition rye whiskey industry in the 1800s because of what they learned back home,” says Dave Broom, author of the World Atlas of Whisky and a whiskey writer for 30 years.

Bastian Heuser inspects whiskey at the Spreewald Distillery. Photograph By Tobias Schwarz, AFP/Getty Images

Pennsylvania’s Old Overholt, said to be America’s oldest continuously operating whiskey brand, was founded by German Mennonite farmer Henry Oberholzer in 1810. Johannes Jakob Böhm moved to Kentucky to sell bourbon under the name Old Jake Beam (now better known as Jim Beam).

There are many other immigrant tales, too, including those of George Dickel, from Grünberg, Hesse, who came to Nashville in 1844; and the founders of the Stitzel-Weller distillery, maker of cult favorite Pappy Van Winkle. Predictably, after 13 years of Prohibition (1920–1933), many German distillers were forgotten, and today it is hard for whiskey historians to tease out personal stories from romanticized brand mythologies.

The Future of Brandenburg

The blurring of distinctions is common when appraising whiskey, and this paradox is all too familiar to Tim Eggenstein of Old Sandhill Whisky, in the town of Bad Belzig, 55 miles southwest of Berlin. The distiller ages his single malt in virgin German, American, and French oak barrels, as well as scented sherry casks and barrique barrels from Bordeaux, accepting that everyone puts their own spin on a whiskey’s story.

At Glina Distillery, 10 miles outside state capital Potsdam, distiller Michael Schultz is driven to create a rare rye-barley hybrid, using oak casks made by Brandenburg’s last remaining master cooper. This is whiskey rendered in muted, earthy tones.

As a journey around Brandenburg makes clear, whiskey is now part of life in Germany—at once looking backwards to a forgotten past and forwards to a more enterprising and fertile future.

— The National Geographic