#improve seep
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
memtraxusa · 2 years ago
Text
0 notes
hickeygender · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
you ever write up a combination of words you're really proud of at the time bc you think it's vivid but it's actually so atrocious that you remember it eight years later bc it's burned itself into your long-term memory? just me?
#i'm literally laughing my entire ass off rn. i can't believe i found this fic i wrote at 15 and orphaned when i came to my senses abt both#my complete inability and total aversion to writing first person as well as the fact that the english language should never have been#subjected to its words being done dirty like this 😭#also i straight up fucking LIED in the authors note??? i said i'd broken my knee as a kid which is categorically false. i fell down some#stairs and banged it up and it's a tiny bit weak ig but i didn't break it? all any teens born after y2k know is eat hot chip and lie...#still not over the first line... the flip flop bit i remembered but i'd COMPLETELY forgotten 'a shriek seeped out of my throat'. girl. what.#how does a shriek seep exactly? the world may never know...#and the use of 'groped' is also sending me 😭 AND 'crash bash whump thump' girlllll send help holy shit i can't stop coughing & laughing#the rest of the fic isn't quite this bad but it's very purple yet ineloquent and rough. it's a good reminder of how much i've improved and#honestly i'd rather read this utterly amature fic bc it's at least charming in its lack of skill rather than infuriating like some of my#oneshots that are still on my page bc they're more comprehensible but just bad enough to make me cringe. getting mad at this oneshot would#be like getting bad at a kid's stick figure drawing. like. it's just kinda cute to see someone starting out on their creative journey#my old sw oneshots on the other hand are like the awkward growing pains of puberty. you just can't help but wince at the reminder#this is okay to reblog btw bc it's objectively hilarious and i don't mind ppl finding humor in it#len speaks
27 notes · View notes
bidybidybidy · 4 months ago
Note
A JERRY ASKBLOG! Is the best day of my life... So uhm!
Say to me, what character will u use for DnD?
A wizard or an elf?
Tumblr media
You fool.
You absolute IMBECILE of a mortal.
How dare you assume that I will not wield the title of BOTH factions?
5 notes · View notes
mantisgodsdomain · 2 years ago
Text
Lycanthropy should count as a chronic illness.
21 notes · View notes
grimtoucher · 10 months ago
Note
who is your favorite one piece character. *staring intently no pressure no pressure no pres (⁠´⁠灬⊙⁠ω⁠⊙⁠灬⁠`)⁠♡
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Idk some fucking guy that showed up on screen for a bit he was kinda cool
#luffy is a character that i feel everybody including the viewer is meant to kind of underestimate at first#to chalk him up to a naive fucking idiot that's gonna get himself killed by something more powerful because he overestimated himself#you keep waiting until he bites off more than he can chew#yknow you wait until he finally meets that match that makes him hesitate and think ''i'm not strong enough‚ i need to improve''#like so many shonen do nowadays where the main character gets humbled by someone more powerful than the level they're at#but with luffy that just.... doesnt happen#no matter how fucking awful and horrifying the series gets sometimes and how high the stakes rise with more genocidal villains#luffy acts as the humanized force of unshakable freedom that cant be silenced for good#luffy is a protagonist but he is also an all-encompassing metaphor that seeps from every pore of the series#and i feel extremely strongly about what he represents and the way he can change YOU and make u feel the hope u thought u lost#he is a character but he is most importantly a vessel for a story that‚ at heart‚ wants you to laugh and dream and love unabashedly#he is not a mascot lil shonen protag created for the sake of telling the viewer ''killing bad! friendship important!''#that motherfucker is built to inspire you to be shamelessly happy to fucking live and laugh and dream big idiot dreams#its hard to describe what he fucking Does to your brain to people used to consuming trash anime with basic niceguy protags#but luffy isnt just a protag. he is a feeling that you learn to adopt. but the depth of that cant be described until you feel it#its a shame people get so scared of the episode count because theyll never experience one of the most soul-changing series ever made#luffy is just one guy in a series full of characters so nuanced and fleshed out they could have their own damn shows
5 notes · View notes
1aceinspace · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Hscfgvjdgs its finally done and it only took me.. nearly 2 months... ☠☠
It was all worth it tho; it was a surprise commission gift for one the owners, and its 2 pups i used to take care of a lot. They have a special place in my heart and it brought me a lot of joy to paint their cute little faces :^]
2 notes · View notes
ana13dsouza · 1 month ago
Text
Why Carpet Cleaning Is Essential for Homes with Pets in Harrow
Why Carpet Cleaning Is Essential for Homes with Pets in Harrow
Having pets in your home can bring immense joy and companionship, but it also comes with its set of challenges—especially when it comes to maintaining a clean and healthy living environment. One area that often suffers is your carpets. Pets shed hair, track in dirt, and sometimes have accidents, leaving behind stains, odors, and allergens that can affect both your home and your health. For pet owners in Harrow, professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow are essential in keeping your carpets clean and your home healthy.
The Challenge of Pet Hair and Dander
One of the most common issues faced by pet owners is the accumulation of pet hair. Regardless of the breed, most pets shed their fur to some extent, and this can accumulate in your carpets, making it difficult to maintain a clean home. Pet hair can also be a major source of allergens, affecting people with sensitivities or asthma. Regular vacuuming can help, but it often fails to fully remove hair that has embedded deep within the carpet fibers. This is where professional carpet cleaner in Harrow services can make a significant difference.
Carpet cleaning specialists use advanced equipment and techniques to extract pet hair and dander effectively. The powerful suction and specialized brushes used by professionals ensure that your carpets are free from unwanted fur, helping to improve the air quality in your home and reduce allergic reactions. Furthermore, carpet cleaning can remove built-up dander that may not be visible but can cause discomfort for sensitive individuals.
Eliminating Pet Odors
Pet odors are another common issue in homes with animals. Even the most well-trained pets can have accidents, and their urine can seep deep into carpet fibers, causing persistent odors that are hard to eliminate. Over time, the smell can become ingrained in the carpet, making it difficult for regular cleaning methods to provide a solution.
Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow are equipped to deal with these tough odors. They use specially formulated cleaning agents that neutralize pet urine and other organic stains, rather than just masking the smell. Additionally, the deep cleaning process removes bacteria and germs that contribute to unpleasant odors, leaving your carpets smelling fresh and clean.
Removing Stains and Spots
Pets often leave behind visible stains, whether from accidents, muddy paws, or spilled food and water. These stains can be a challenge to remove with DIY methods, and if left untreated, they can become permanent. Pet stains not only ruin the appearance of your carpets, but they can also penetrate deeper into the fibers, making it harder to clean them thoroughly.
Carpet cleaning services in Harrow can help by providing specialized stain removal treatments. These services target specific types of stains, such as urine, feces, or vomit, and ensure they are completely removed from the carpet. In addition to improving the appearance of your carpets, this process helps to restore the hygiene and health of your home.
Reducing Allergens and Improving Air Quality
Carpets are known to trap allergens like dust mites, pollen, and pet dander. For individuals with allergies or respiratory issues, this can be a significant problem. Pet dander, in particular, is a common trigger for allergic reactions, and it can be challenging to eliminate from carpets without professional help.
A professional carpet cleaner in Harrow can remove these allergens by using high-powered vacuums and deep cleaning techniques. This process helps to improve the overall air quality in your home, making it a more comfortable environment for those who suffer from allergies or asthma. By investing in regular carpet cleaning, you can create a cleaner, healthier space for both your family and your pets.
Prolonging the Life of Your Carpets
Pets can cause wear and tear on your carpets. From scratching to tracking in dirt and debris, pets contribute to the degradation of carpet fibers over time. This can lead to the premature replacement of your carpets, which can be costly. Regular cleaning, however, can help prolong the life of your carpets by removing dirt and debris that cause damage to the fibers.
By hiring a professional carpet cleaner in Harrow, you can ensure that your carpets remain in excellent condition for a longer period. The deep cleaning process removes dirt, dust, and other contaminants that can break down the fibers and cause wear. This helps to preserve the appearance of your carpets and reduces the need for costly replacements.
Maintaining a Clean and Safe Home for Pets
Your pet's health is important, and a clean home plays a significant role in maintaining it. Pets are naturally curious and may spend a lot of time on the floor, where they come into contact with dirt, allergens, and bacteria. Regular carpet cleaning not only ensures that your carpets look clean but also helps to eliminate any harmful substances that could affect your pet's health.
Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow use safe, pet-friendly cleaning solutions that are gentle on your carpets but tough on dirt and stains. These non-toxic cleaners help to create a safe environment for your pets, without exposing them to harmful chemicals. This gives you peace of mind, knowing that your pet can enjoy a clean and healthy home.
Why Professional Carpet Cleaning Is Worth the Investment
While it might seem tempting to clean your carpets yourself, especially with over-the-counter products, the results often don’t match the level of cleaning that professionals can achieve. DIY methods may be effective for surface cleaning, but they don’t offer the deep cleaning needed to tackle embedded pet hair, odors, and stains.
Investing in carpet cleaning services in Harrow ensures that your carpets receive a thorough, professional cleaning that removes all pet-related issues. Professional cleaners have the experience, equipment, and products necessary to provide a level of cleanliness that is hard to achieve with DIY methods. Plus, they can help prevent future problems, such as the buildup of allergens and bacteria, by providing ongoing maintenance.
Conclusion
Carpet cleaning is essential for households with pets, not only to maintain the appearance of your home but also to ensure a healthy living environment for both your family and your pets. Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow can tackle the toughest issues caused by pets, from hair and odors to allergens and stains. By investing in regular carpet cleaning, you can protect your carpets, improve the air quality in your home, and create a cleaner, safer space for your pets. So, if you're a pet owner in Harrow, make sure to prioritize professional carpet cleaning to keep your home looking and feeling its best.
#CarpetCleaning #PetOwners #HarrowHomes #CleanCarpets #PetHair #Allergens #CarpetCare #HealthyHome #CarpetCleaningServicesInHarrow
#Why Carpet Cleaning Is Essential for Homes with Pets in Harrow#Having pets in your home can bring immense joy and companionship#but it also comes with its set of challenges—especially when it comes to maintaining a clean and healthy living environment. One area that#track in dirt#and sometimes have accidents#leaving behind stains#odors#and allergens that can affect both your home and your health. For pet owners in Harrow#professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow are essential in keeping your carpets clean and your home healthy.#The Challenge of Pet Hair and Dander#One of the most common issues faced by pet owners is the accumulation of pet hair. Regardless of the breed#most pets shed their fur to some extent#and this can accumulate in your carpets#making it difficult to maintain a clean home. Pet hair can also be a major source of allergens#affecting people with sensitivities or asthma. Regular vacuuming can help#but it often fails to fully remove hair that has embedded deep within the carpet fibers. This is where professional carpet cleaner in Harro#Carpet cleaning specialists use advanced equipment and techniques to extract pet hair and dander effectively. The powerful suction and spec#helping to improve the air quality in your home and reduce allergic reactions. Furthermore#carpet cleaning can remove built-up dander that may not be visible but can cause discomfort for sensitive individuals.#Eliminating Pet Odors#Pet odors are another common issue in homes with animals. Even the most well-trained pets can have accidents#and their urine can seep deep into carpet fibers#causing persistent odors that are hard to eliminate. Over time#the smell can become ingrained in the carpet#making it difficult for regular cleaning methods to provide a solution.#Professional carpet cleaning services in Harrow are equipped to deal with these tough odors. They use specially formulated cleaning agents#rather than just masking the smell. Additionally#the deep cleaning process removes bacteria and germs that contribute to unpleasant odors#leaving your carpets smelling fresh and clean.#Removing Stains and Spots
0 notes
poetry-from-the-mimp · 4 months ago
Text
Sometimes I feel like I wasn’t meant to reach this point in life.
That’s just what the voices in my head tell me.
But then i remember that I am more than the thoughts that come when i’m alone.
And that’s when I’m okay once more.
It’s the moment when I have to pull myself out of the downward spiral of depression because I know no one else is trying to get me to safety or even give me peace of mind.
That’s just how it’s always been. me against the world, baby.
- an excerpt from the depths of my mind.
1 note · View note
reasonsforhope · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Article | Paywall-Free
"The Environmental Protection Agency finalized a rule Tuesday [October 8, 2024] requiring water utilities to replace all lead pipes within a decade, a move aimed at eliminating a toxic threat that continues to affect tens of thousands of American children each year.
The move, which also tightens the amount of lead allowed in the nation’s drinking water, comes nearly 40 years after Congress determined that lead pipes posed a serious risk to public health and banned them in new construction.
Research has shown that lead, a toxic contaminant that seeps from pipes into the drinking water supply, can cause irreversible developmental delays, difficulty learning and behavioral problems among children. In adults, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, lead exposure can cause increased blood pressure, heart disease, decreased kidney function and cancer.
But replacing the lead pipes that deliver water to millions of U.S. homes will cost tens of billions of dollars, and the push to eradicate them only gathered momentum after a water crisis in Flint, Mich., a decade ago exposed the extent to which children remain vulnerable to lead poisoning through tap water...
The groundbreaking regulation, called the Lead and Copper Rule Improvements, will establish a national inventory of lead service lines and require that utilities take more aggressive action to remove lead pipes on homeowners’ private property. It also lowers the level of lead contamination that will trigger government enforcement from 15 parts per billion (ppb) to 10 ppb.
The rule also establishes the first-ever national requirement to test for lead in schools that rely on water from public utilities. It mandates thatwater systems screen all elementary and child-care facilities, where those who are the most vulnerable to lead’s effects — young children — are enrolled, and that they offer testing to middle and high schools.
The White House estimates that more than 9 million homes across the country are still supplied by lead pipelines, which are the leading source of lead contamination through drinking water. The EPA has projected that replacing all of them could cost at least $45 billion.
Lead pipes were initially installed in cities decades ago because they were cheaper and more malleable, but the heavy metal can wear down and corrode over time. President Joe Biden has made replacing them one of his top environmental priorities, securing $15 billion to give states over five years through the bipartisan infrastructure law and vowing to rid the country of lead pipes by 2031. The administration has spent $9 billion so far — enough to replace up to 1.7 million lead pipes, the administration said.
On Tuesday, the administration said it was providing an additional $2.6 billion in funding for pipe replacement. Over 367,000 lead pipes have been replaced nationwide since Biden took office, according to White House officials, affecting nearly 1 million people...
Environmental advocates said that former president Donald Trump, who issued much more modest revisions to the lead and copper rule just days before Biden took office, would have a hard time reversing the new standards.
Erik Olson, the senior strategic director for health at the Natural Resources Defense Council, said that the Safe Drinking Water Act has provisions prohibiting weakening the health protections of existing standards...
Olson added that the rule “represents a major victory for public health” and will protect millions of people “whose health is threatened every time they fill a glass from the kitchen sink contaminated by lead.”
“While the rule is imperfect and we still have more to do, this is by far the biggest step towards eliminating lead in tap water in over three decades,” he said."
-via The Washington Post, October 8, 2024
2K notes · View notes
harvestmoss · 4 months ago
Text
 💫 Why Protection Magic Is Useful (even if you have no enemies)
Tumblr media
A lot of witches will tell new witches (baby witches) that they should start by learning and using protection magic. However, I've started to see a lot of witches say that protection magic is not as important as other witches claim it to be. Saying that they don't have anyone coming after them or an enemy in real life to warrant a spell of protection.
I think this may also be due to how I've not personally come across anyone really explaining why a witch may want to use protection magic all the time.
Now, it is true that there's no need to be paranoid all the time and have protection up 24/7. But here's a list where you may use it, find it useful, or haven't thought protection magic could be included.
An actual person -- This one is obvious, you have an enemy in real life or on the internet and you need protection magic to protect you from their curses.
A malevolant spirit -- They can come from your windows, mirrors (including tv screens, computer screens, and other reflective surfaces maybe), they seep through floor cracks, hanging onto your coats from outside, etc. Just like how you'd use garden gloves to avoid dirt up your nails being trapped there. Protection magic is just like putting on those gloves.
An energy -- Say you have a neighbour who's arguing with someone. They're yelling and screaming and it can be heard through the apartment walls. That negative energy is seeping into your home and your energy. So it may be worth protecting your home and energy from that sour neighbour's energy. (ever been scolded by your mother and your mood is sour? it's kind of like the same here.)
Your own spell -- Now a self-love spell is probably not something you should protect yourself from. But let's say you're doing a curse. It would be a smart idea to make sure you're protected before beginning such a spell. Much like how you'd wear an apron to protect your clothes from stains when cooking food. You may not always spill your food when cooking, but damn it is it annoying when you do and the stain won't wash off. It's the same with a spell.
Unintentionally -- Sometimes things can happen that's out of our control and it's a good idea to be a little prepared. A black cat suddenly running across the street? Bad luck. Someone got jealous when you told them something good? Evil Eye. Think of it as going to the store with an extra bag for your groceries. You may not need it, but isn't it handy when you at one point do need it?
Protection magic doesn't have to be elaborate or grand or be convoluted. Protection magic is powerful but also extremely simple. All you need is a horseshoe above the door, a little talisman in your pocket, a sigil for your car, etc.
So don't dismiss the importance of protection magic. It may help to improve your spellwork and your energy.
2K notes · View notes
httpsserene · 6 months ago
Note
Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠
𝐝𝐧𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬
Tumblr media
summary: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort (in a way). sexual propositions. angry sex (implied). depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. periods. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, shower sex (light or implied). pairing: the grid x fem!reader (1,4,16,44,55,81) genre: drabbles.
from serene: river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! oh, i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are just quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me! (okay, okay, okay, fine i’ll finish toasty part two i promise it'll be released soon)
⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏
You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 
The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.
Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.
“Let me make it better,” you offer.
The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”
“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”
Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.
“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”
Tumblr media
𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒
He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 
You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 
You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.
“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”
“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”
Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”
You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”
Tumblr media
𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔
The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.
You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room�� rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 
That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.
“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”
He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.
“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”
The helmet stays on.
Tumblr media
𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒
You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.
The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).
Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.
“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”
Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 
“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”
The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”
Tumblr media
𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏
Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.
Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 
Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.
“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.
“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 
You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”
Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”
What were you going to do, tell him no?
Tumblr media
𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓
You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.
Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 
You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”
The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”
You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”
Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 
He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”
Tumblr media
© httpsserene2024
2K notes · View notes
honey-pages · 1 month ago
Text
Study Date - Viktor x Reader
Tumblr media
Description -
Viktor waits for you in the library for an unexpected study date.
1.9k Words.
Part 2
F/M. 18+. Smut. Semi-Public Sex. Fingering. Dirty Talk.
Your project was due soon - next Wednesday, and with all the work that went into the subject you were working on, you desperately needed some focused library time. Maybe borrowing some books, writing down your initial thoughts, and annotating your materials would clear your brain. You were assigned an important research topic not long ago, by your supervisor and it was imperative that it was done quickly and accurately. The library was not far from your room and warm at this time of night. They liked to give out blankets on loan at the door, it wasn’t unusual for researchers to work overnight or with the aid of supplements to allow them to focus for longer periods of time, usually spanning until morning.
As you approach the main entrance, you pick up a blue blanket and scan your identification card. The staff at the desk smile at you as you walk through, you are familiar with them, and they are accustomed to your presence there. You climb the first set of stairs, undecided on where to go. The library seemed empty tonight. You climb another set of stairs. At the top was a sharp corner leading to your favourite seating area. In an alcove surrounded by bookshelves is a small desk with four chairs, and seated there, almost like he was waiting for your appearance, was Viktor.
You were not surprised to find him here; he was a busy man. You were however a little confused as to why he wasn’t in his lab and was instead in your favourite study spot. The library was a silence only zone on the floor you had reached and as you looked over at Viktor, he raised his gaze and held eye contact with you, a smile slowly seeping across his face. He pats the chair directly next to him, summoning you forward.
You had always felt a certain appreciation for him. The way he worked, his personality, his cause. You cared deeply for him, not only as a friendship, but intimately. You hadn’t figured he was interested in that kind of relationship. He was always so invested in his work; it didn’t appear he had much time for more. But sometimes at night, your mind wandered, and you pondered a reality in which he did. What would he do? Who was he interested in? You had hoped, in that reality, that it would be you - but you could never be sure. Quick glances were untrustworthy, and kind words can always be misinterpreted, though sometimes you were sure you noticed something in your interactions that was different: intimate.
You watched him closely as you approached the seat, admiring him. You perhaps hadn’t realised the extent of thoughts you had about him. You felt fluttery and a little weak but that was nothing more than you felt towards him on the regular. Settling down into the seat, you slung your bag against the leg of the table and pulled out your books, setting the blanket down over your lap.
In a hushed whisper from your left came, “Hello (Y/N), it’s nice to see you here, I was wondering when you would show.”
He faced the paper he was working on. On the table splayed out were multiple thick tomes and sheets of paper littered with equations and lines of handwritten notes.
“I should say the same”, you replied, flattered that he had been waiting for you, “it’s so rare to see you out of the lab. What are you working on?”
He swipes his hand, referencing the mass of papers in front of him, “oh nothing. A mechanised power fist for a robot that needs some tinkering with.”
He looks up at you with the last of these words, smiling at your interest in his work, even if he does downplay its importance. In his time away from his main work, he is focusing on improving and fixing his personal projects. You had heard whispers previously about a robot he had been working on. It was not common knowledge around those who studied in your department. You returned the smile.
There was an alert over the announcement system, “Please be aware that this floor is a dedicated silent area. Thanks for your cooperation”
Viktor made a mock grimace before shrugging and smirking, “I feel someone would like us to be quieter.”
You smirk back at him, settling back to face forwards in your chair. You hadn’t realised that your body had turned to face him, hips angling at his knees. Your body language was betraying your attraction. In some ways, in acknowledgement to his intelligence, you figured he must know. He is simply too smart to not realise that you felt the way you did.
You tried to immerse yourself in your work, however his presence did become somewhat of a distraction. Just his proximity to you made you feel seen and watched. You spent what felt like an hour within your own thoughts, sometimes drifting in between fantasies about him, and unfocused thoughts of your deadline.
Viktor placed his hand on your thigh.
A burning surge ran through your body to your stomach, your leg felt hot where his hand lay. You were in disbelief, as though all the ambiguous questions you had were instantaneously answered and you were given an impossible positive answer. You felt your internal organs drop and raise, replaced with butterflies. There was silence. You stole a glance to your left, to his face. He was completely stone faced and confident in his focus on his work. Is this why he saved you a seat?
You shifted slightly, Viktor flinched his hand away, startled. “Oh sorry, have I misread, do you not- “
Without thinking you reach and grab Viktor’s hand and replace it where it had just been. A silent gesture of reassurance that he is exactly where you want him to be. He smirks once again, removing his hand once more. He reaches down for the corner of your blanket, pulling it over the laps of you both, before slipping his hand underneath, allowing it to rest where it just was but now out of sight. The library was not even half full, and no one was looking at you both closely, but the secrecy of his touch and its closeness to your inner thigh made you feel fuzzy.
If previously you couldn’t focus, you had no hope now. He holds your attention firmly, all you can think of is him, his hand, his fingers, his-
His hand slides further to your inner thigh. You freeze. You steal another glance at his face but this time he catches you; your eyes meet.
“Viktor, I- “you manage to murmur.
“Miss (Y/N), this is a quiet space, please, focus.”
As he holds your gaze, the corners of his mouth raised, he slides his hand further forward, holding it firmly at the seat of your trousers, pressing and nudging at the sensitivity there. Your mouth drops open slightly and he notices, chuckling lightly and turning back to his work. He props his head up on his other hand, rubbing his chin in faux concentration. He shuffles closer to you, changing his angle as he rubs and grinds his fingers into you.
You watch others pass by the entrance of the alcove, some smiling in recognition at you, some your friends from previous research projects. Thankfully no one stops to talk. Maybe it is Viktor’s presence that makes you unapproachable, he could be quite intimidating. You shuddered at the thought of how you looked together, sharing a blanket with his arm dangerously close to you, it appeared innocent but was so indecent.
Viktor's hand moved from you and snaked up your hip to push its way down into your trousers. He flattens and slides under the hem of your underwear, lying flat against the front of you. You try to remain calm and hide your squirming, but inevitably, your hips begin to grind on their own. They slowly lower, pushing up against the middles of his fingers, before raising up, pushing your clit desperately against the tips. This repeats for a few long slow grinds, however on the last, as your hips raise, his fingertips flick forward against you, making you jolt in your chair and elicit a sharp though quiet moan.
“Careful now, you don’t want people to see what I’m doing to you, do you?” He purred.
He moves his other hand from his chin to the desk, laying it flat before lifting it again to raise a paper closer to his face, reading intently. His middle finger slides between your folds, dipping itself into the wetness. You stifle yourself. He pushes his middle finger inside gently, making you take the full length of it slowly.
You stammer, “Viktor- “.
At the sound of his name, he inserts another finger.
“Viktor!”
You both look up. Jayce stands by the entrance of the library floor holding up a folder.  Viktor's fingers do not cease, slipping in and out of you deliberately. Jayce quickly approaches your table, throwing down his things on the table in front of you.
“I finally found the blueprints you were looking for this morning, I thought I’d bring them by you.”
Jayce smiles at you warmly, you are both acquainted after being on a work trip together, he quickly makes small talk and relates that it is nice to see you and Viktor together.
“I thought I would have to introduce you to each other, you seem so well suited!” Jayce beams.
Viktor slides in a third finger, looking toward Jayce to give thanks for the folder.
“Ah! Very helpful, thank you. Miss (Y/N) here is helping me look through the documents. It’s somewhat of a study date.” Viktor chimes.
Your core is as tightened as you can make it, focusing completely on not showing anything more than the light blush which is already painting your cheeks. You knew Viktor was collected but how is he so calm right now? Jayce makes a further comment about the two of you together before turning and exiting by the stairs. The speed increases, Viktor’s fingers getting messier and sliding more easily between the folds, holding you open and hungry. He slides his fingers up to your clit, circling and flicking at the heat there.
“The way you are handling this is incredible (Y/N). So composed, so beautiful when I’m inside of you.”
Your grinding is less controlled now and Viktor’s hand is fully wet, your underwear clinging damply to the back of his hand.
“Do you think that if I did this? - “Viktor adds pressure to your clit, you feel the rising feeling of your orgasm building. “-again and again, I could ruin you in the library?”
His growled words were sending you over the edge.
“Viktor, I’m going to- “. Your hips were rapidly meeting his hands. Viktor increases his rhythm on the downward motion, he begins to curl his fingers up, sliding against the hot tight core inside you. As he repeatedly met it with his fingers, you felt your wetness drip and pool in the base of his palm.
“You sound so sweet like this, coming over my fingers in the library where anyone could see. I had no idea you were so dirty Miss (Y/N)’”
His fingers are hitting all the right places, and the building pressure is rising to a blinding white light. Your hips seem to freeze in motion, and he takes full advantage, pushing and grinding you over the edge. Your hands grip around his forearm and he revels in your stifled moans as you come over his fingers. He lightly chuckles, burying his face into your neck to whisper in your ear.
“I have work to attend to in the lab if you could be of assistance?”
930 notes · View notes
cowboygenesis · 4 months ago
Text
18+ knuckle up | astarion x reader
summary: after a drunken night and a dumb bet you're left in an emotional (and physical) chokehold by your favourite vampire companion.
Tumblr media
pairing: astarion ancunin x afab!bard!reader tags: 18+, smut, fluff, switch dynamics, m/f, fingering, unprotected sex, resolved tension, playfighting, sex after training session. word count: 7.8k notes: this fic was SO fun to write even if im a gale girlie myself. this is my first attempt at writing ANY bg3 character, so i really hope i did okay. if not, let me know! comments help me improve my writing (and warm my heart, seriously, thanks to anyone taking the time out of their day to comment). anyways gang, no beta as ALWAYS, you know how we roll. ENJOY! masterlist.
It still made little sense to you.
You had honed your skills at the most prestigious music schools in Faerûn for years, pouring your heart into every note, every chord, only to find yourself shamelessly ridiculed for an entirely different kind of performance. And by a man you’d grown to like, no less.
"Get up, darling," Astarion’s voice drips with amusement, the self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips with infuriating smugness. His crimson eyes watch you with a predatory glint, locking onto your vulnerable form sprawled in the dirt—a definitive result of his frustratingly agile moves.
You groan lowly, propping yourself up on bruised elbows, wincing as a dull ache pulses through your body. A stray lock of hair falls in front of your face, and you blow it away in frustration.
"I’m starting to think this isn’t educational at all." You glare at him with all the venom you can muster, eyebrows furrowed as his arms cross.
Your eyes absentmindedly scan down his body, taking note of his slightly disheveled shirt and tousled hair. He looks… good. Beautiful, even. Basking in the soft moonlight seeping through the vast greenery above, he stands there like he’s in his element.
He chuckles, seemingly unbothered by your vapid tone. "Oh, but it is, my dear. Think of it as a new, humbling experience. Valuable in its own right."
You bite back a retort as he offers you a hand, his expression making your eye twitch. You never thought you’d fall for arrogance, yet ironically it’s your own conceit that might have brewed your upcoming downfall.
After a particularly boisterous night of drinking in camp—brought on by the recent victory over a pack of gnolls—you foolishly accepted Astarion’s challenge to best him in hand-to-hand combat. Your alcohol-addled brain had been more confident than your body, and now, after a series of harsh jabs and sidesteps, you were being taught the harsh reality of “real” combat.
Defeated, you eventually obliged a quick lesson from the master himself, which he had (admittedly suspiciously) made you take after losing your bet.
At the very least, the bruising would rid you of your lingering hangover once you were done taking the thrashing. Plus, you hoped it would bring you two closer. Figuratively and physically.
He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your hesitation. "Come now, my dear, don’t be so stubborn. You seemed so eager at first,"
"You told me you’d teach me to fight, not fall on my damn face," you lament, but begrudgingly accept his help, allowing him to pull you to your feet.
His grip is firm, and the coolness of his skin sends a small jolt of electricity down your spine. You had often imagined what holding his hand would feel like during the colder nights alone in your tent, and while the circumstances ended up being less than ideal, it was good enough for you. For now.
You rub at your sore arm with a frown and catch that Astarion, unmistakably, stands completely unscathed, his pale complexion almost glowing in the ambient light.
"I’m thinking…” he muses, glancing at the weathered lyre resting peacefully by the roots of a tree. His lips curl into a smirk, and you can feel the teasing jab sting your pride. “Perhaps you’re better suited to the more... delicate aspects of life,"
Your jaw clenches. While bards famously went underestimated— a fact you were reminded of frequently— it hurt more coming from someone you so badly wanted to fuck.
"Oh, I don’t know," you say with a saccharine tone, brushing the residual dirt from your pants; your favorite pair, yet you’d probably end up having to toss them out after your poor performance today. "I think a harp string could make a fine garrote in the right hands."
Astarion’s laughter rings out clearly, and your heart skips a beat unbeknownst to you. "Dully noted. Fortunately for the both of us, we’re stripped of any weaponry in our current pinnacle."
Your eyes roll, running a hand through your disheveled, sweat-slick hair and adjusting your posture to the one he had taught you: one foot forward, back straight.
"Again," you demand, squaring your shoulders. If he wanted to mock you, fine— but you wouldn’t go down without a proper fight.
Astarion’s eyes widen, but his smirk never falters. He sighs in faux exasperation but quickly matches your posture. "So eager to be tossed into the dirt again, darling."
Your face flashes with heat at his painfully languid remark, your mind going places it probably shouldn’t. You knew the pet names were simply an inherent part of his vocabulary and that he used them generously, with everyone, yet a part of you liked to imagine they were reserved for you, and you only.
“Try me again,” you reply curtly, lowering your gaze as you feel the tension sprawling through your aching body.
He shoots you an arrogant smirk, his gaze penetrating your soul with an intensity you didn’t think possible. He bares his fangs, licking over his bottom lip lazily. “Let’s see it, then.”
Astarion approaches, but this time, you’re ready. As he moves to close the distance, you anticipate the first jab, ducking low before he can catch you off-guard. You dart to the side, aiming a swift thrust toward his midsection. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, but it seems to work.
Your fist connects with his toned stomach. He topples off-balance, but only for a fleeting second. His reflexes are too sharp, too honed through his century-long life for you to overcome with your pitiful attempt.
He catches himself with a graceful pivot, turning the stumble into a curt spin that has him facing you once more.
"Fast learner, are we?" he muses, watching you closely through his fists. "I might actually have to try now."
"Don’t flatter yourself," you shoot back, heart racing. At that moment, you recognize you can’t win. Not this time, probably not the next. But you don’t want to forfeit, even if it means enduring a day or two of terrible muscle soreness.
Every sidestep, every deflected blow, brings you closer, the air between you growing heavy with static. You aren’t sure if it’s the heat of the fight or the dangerous proximity, but you can feel it—an irresistible, undeniable pull.
"Careful now," Astarion purrs as you barely miss his face with a rugged swing. He catches your wrist, holding it tight as he leans in, breath ghosting over your ear. "You wouldn’t want to harm me, would you?"
You swallow hard, your body tensing under his tight grip. The closeness is intoxicating, but you force yourself to stay focused, pushing back against the growing heat in your chest.
"Maybe I would." You don’t.
For a moment, neither of you move. The world seems to narrow, the charged atmosphere thick with tacit suspense. You can feel your pulse hammering in your throat, senses sharp, attuned to every breath he takes as they intermingle with yours.
"Darling," a dramatic pout creeps onto his lips, only to be replaced by a sly grin seconds later. You feel his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to slip free. It’s a calculated move, once he grants you himself. "You wound me with your words."
You take a step back, breathless. This isn’t over, not by a long shot, yet your muscles fight against that thought. They scream at you with pain, worn and stretched by what feels like hours of sparring.
“Sounds like you’re the one trying to wound me,” you taunt, shooting him a lowered gaze. “Why’d you take me out here? Trying to make your next kill less obvious?”
The vampire had insisted you two train away from the bustle of camp, even if it meant missing out on tonight’s feast. While the rest of your companions enjoyed the finest ale Baldur’s Gate could offer, you were stuck trying to prove something to your crush.
Astarion's grin widens, his eyes flashing with amusement as he takes a slow, calculated step forward. “Now, now,” he purrs, voice dripping with mock innocence. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have seen it coming— no need for childish theatrics.”
You hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the slight tremble in your legs from the strain of the sparring—or maybe it’s from something else entirely, you can’t be sure. You know he’s dangerous, that this game you’ve been playing with him has always had its sharp edges. But there’s something about that edge, about the way he dances so easily between teasing and threatening, that weakens your knees and makes you breathless every damn time.
"Then why are we here?" you challenge, taking a step back to match his forward one. Your voice is steady, but your pulse is hammering in your throat. The woods feel like a world apart from camp, the sounds of chatter distant as you sit in your isolated little bubble of the world. “It’s a little… intimate, don’t you think?”
Astarion tilts his head, studying you with a curious twinkle in his crimson eyes. “That sharp tongue again,” he says quietly, “Do you truly believe I’d go through all the trouble of bringing you out here just to end you? If I wanted your death, I’d make it enjoyable for both of us.”
Your breath catches at his words. His words drip with venom, but somewhere deep down, in the depths of his blackened heart, you swear you feel an instance of temptation.
“What’s the game then?” you ask, holding his gaze despite the anxiety twisting in your chest. “Because by the Gods, I know you love those.”
Astarion’s smirk softens, but the intensity in his eyes never falters. He steps closer again, until there’s barely any space between you, his presence intoxicating. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’re capable of,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. “Maybe I wanted to see how far you’d let me push you before you push back.”
His hand hovers near yours, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, but he doesn’t make full contact.
“And maybe,” he continues, leaning in just enough that his breath grazes your cheek, “I’m curious what could happen once we both stop playing.”
Your heart is racing now, and you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the sparring or the charged air between you that’s making your head spin a hundred miles an hour.
“You’ll never know,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with a boldness you don’t quite feel. “Because I’m not backing down from this.”
His grin widens at your rebellion, and with a swift, fluid motion, the man’s playful smirk turns into a vicious one. Before you can react, he spins you around, movements smooth and practiced, making you lose your balance.
Your back hits his chest, and within seconds he wraps one arm around your neck in a tight headlock— his grip is firm, but not painful. Your mind strays to his other arm, feeling it press against your waist to keep you securely against him.
“Such a feisty little thing,” he purrs into your ear, his breath warm against your sweat-slick skin.
You struggle against his hold, trying to twist free, but his grip is relentless. “Fuck you,” you manage to scowl, though the words are strained by the pressure on your throat.
Astarion chuckles softly, and you feel it reverberate through your body. “Oh, she bites back,” he teases, his voice a dark, seductive buzz. “Are you taunting me, darling?”
You try to shift your weight, to find a way out of the headlock, but his grip doesn’t waver. “You’re projecting,” you growl breathlessly.
“And you’re persistent,” he replies, “Suits you well.”
You feel a warmth spread through your belly, tickling your nerve endings and making your thighs squeeze. You thank the Gods he can’t see your flustered face right now.
And suddenly, he releases. Not fully, but his grip weakens enough to allow you a moment to slip out again, stumbling over your own feet as you face him.
“Here’s your second freebie,” he chuckles, getting into position again. “Careful, next one might come at a price.”
“Like I need a third one,”
You recalibrate, then in the spur of the moment, pounce. Your arms extend as they barrel toward him. His eyes widen, but he manages to catch them mid-air; his hands clasping into yours and pushing against you.
“Fair strategy,” he commends, and you sense it might at least be partially earnest. “Desperate, but fair.”
You strain against him, breath hitching when he periodically pushes back. Whenever he does, you feel his gaze boring into you with a crazed intensity.
Then, you try not to think about the fact your digits fit together really damn well— and fail. Take what you can get, right?
“What’s wrong, my dear?” he sneers, slender fingers tightening around your palm. He leans in, your chests threatening to collide. “Getting distracted?”
You grit your teeth, leaning in with your full body weight, but he barely budges. “You wish,” you shoot back breathlessly.
“I feel it,” he corrects in a whisper, leaning in just enough that his lips hover dangerously close to your ear. “It’s in your eyes. You’re not even thinking about our little lesson anymore, are you?”
Your breath hitches at his words, the undoubted truth in them cutting through the haze in your mind. He’s right. The bet, your lesson —somewhere along the lines, your sparring posture went lax. All that matters to you now is the palpable closeness, your hands in his, and his hot, idle breath on your neck. Your throat threatens to cast a strained groan, but you withhold.
“I—” you start to protest, but your voice falters. His chest is now pressed flush against yours, pushing you forward.
“Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low, seductive. “And I’ll let you win.”
Your hands tremble in the small space they lock with his, the smoldering red of his gaze telling you he knows exactly what he’s doing—how his actions leave you a mess in body and soul.
“I won’t, I— I can’t,” you manage to stutter, but the words sound weak and unconvincing even to your own weary ears.
He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through you like a slow current. “Liar,” he whispers, and you catch a glimpse of his pearly fangs in your hazed peripherals. “Not a good one, either. Another thing I should school you on.”
Your eyes roll, but the implication accelerates the growing tension within your guts. “Just how generous you are.”
His head tilts gradually, and you go pale as you catch his tongue running along the length of his bottom lip.
“No, darling,” he purrs, “I haven’t shown you generous just yet.”
And then, you catch his eyes darkening. There’s a certain mania to them when they widen, pupils blown out like a cat’s when he suddenly pushes firmly against you. Your feet stumble backward, staring into him as a wild grin plasters on his face.
You yelp when you lose balance, lips ajar and eyes closed shut as you feel your back crash into something soft, or at least, soft enough to leave you un-bruised.
When your eyes flutter open, he’s on top of you. You study his broad shoulders, the pale neck between them, and finally let your half-lidded gazes connect in a silent, tension-filled juncture.
The ambiance of dusk quiets down to a soft murmur, crickets chirping in the distance as his strong body hovers inches above you, hands placed firmly around your wrists to successfully lock you in place.
“Seems to me you’ve lost our little bet,” he purrs out, and your breath hitches as one of his legs slides between yours, slowly inching to put a distance between your knees.
All you can do is stare up at him hungrily, desperately, drinking in his weathered features and pray he’d let you run your fingers through his flaxen locks at some point in the night.
“No clever retort? That’s not the little bard I know and love,” he teases, and your hips almost buck into him at that one word. You know he doesn’t mean it, yet your teeth still clench when your body jolts in response to his familiar lilt.
“You’re playing dirty,” you finally breathe out, cringing at how strained your voice sounds as you lie under his weight.
“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” he retorts, his crimson gaze boring into you before gradually disappearing into your neck.
His lips hover over your skin, hot breath tickling the soft spot near your pulse point as you gasp quietly. You feel him hesitate, arms tensing and releasing over your own as if soaked in apprehension. You strain your muscles, eyes shutting in preparation for the inevitable, sharp bite coming onto your poor vein. Gods, was this his plan all along?
But then, you feel the grip on your wrists loosen.
Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly catch the tousled white locks in your neck as the vampire looms over you.
“Here’s your chance to run,” he hitches, and somehow he sounds just as out of breath as you do.
You lie on the blanket of moss, chest heaving and gaze tracing languidly over the treeline as you feel your body go limp. He’s giving you one last opt-out before… before something happens, be it a bloody massacre or... Or?
Your mind shrieks at you: take advantage, prove yourself on top in this stupid bet— but the little voice in your heart urges you to stay under his firm body; find out if your instincts rang true after all.
You stay. Not only that, but you let your hands slip out of his, one of them snaking down his shoulder while the other runs through his waves. They’re silky, and soft, and when you catch a whiff of rosemary in the air, your grip tightens.
“Astarion,” you whisper, voice surprisingly steady as your heart beats a constant rhythm into the space between you.
His body jerks abruptly, albeit subtly, and you feel him smirking— smiling— into the soft flesh of your neck. “So I was right, after all.”
His face withdraws from you slightly, the residual condensation of his warm breath leaving you shivering. You catch his gaze, half-lidded and scanning your expression with apt concentration.
“Feisty, spirited little thing,” he continues, inching towards you again.
Your stiff body jerks, grazing against him as your shaky hand snakes to his cheek. You cradle it gently but with urgency, and there’s a beat of silence before you finally understand what to do.
You inhale softly, catch his questioning gaze, and crash your lips onto his.
He groans softly when you meet in the middle, lowering himself with his arms. Your chest thrums with the beat of your heart, shooting waves of dopamine down your worn spine.
When you feel his nimble hand on your jaw, your lips part with a sigh. He matches your buzz with his own self-satisfied murmur, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb.
You smile. He’s sweet and bitter, and you whine gently into the kiss when you recognize brandy on his tongue.
This is what you’ve been waiting for all these lonesome months.
The culmination dawns on you like a powerful current, making your eyes squeeze and your hands tremble in his waves.
He seems to notice your tremor, but instead of slowing down or (Gods forbid) stopping, he dives deeper. You moan into his mouth as he wriggles a hand around your waist, holding you close to his hips and suddenly, you feel a steady pressure grinding into your crotch.
The movement is slow, precise, practiced. His hips buff into yours in a controlled rhythm, making you sense his already taut erection through the thick material of his linen pants.
“Do you get it now, darling?” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to stare lazily into your glassy eyes. “Look what you do to me.”
His hand snakes to your blouse, and before you can register what’s happening, you hear three ivory buttons pop off followed by the cool, evening breeze tickling your heated skin. You don’t need to open your eyes to know your nipples are standing taut in the chilly air, yet the image makes you redden.
“How— how unceremonious,” you croak out, moaning softly when his large hand begins palming at your right breast.
His thumb and forefinger squeeze at your erect nipple, toying with it in smooth, tactile movements and relishing the way his name sounds coming out of your kiss-swollen lips.
“Mm, forgive me,” he chuckles darkly, planting a quick, ardent kiss on your lips before lowering his face to your chest. His tongue licks a slow, tender strip up your sternum before he looks up to smile at you; it’s a genuine look of satisfaction, untouched by the plague that is his faux arrogance. “I’ll make sure to be good next time.”
’Next time?’
You look at him lazily, gaze puzzled and lips ajar to ask but he doesn’t even offer you the chance. His hand dips from your tits to the band of your pants, sliding underneath it with his finger, the coolness of his skin making you gasp.
His mouth assaults your other nipple with sucks, nibbles, and gentle bites, making you mewl under him as his hand continues to travel down the soft flesh of your thigh. He rubs it gently, lovingly, starting under your hip and slowly stroking his way toward the inner region, where you’re most sensitive.
“Divine,” he mumbles against your chest, pressing a kiss to your rib. “So divine.”
His free palm moves to your exposed belly, massaging it gently. You sigh at the slow, consistent pressure, moving your trembling hand to the back of his neck.
When your one eye pops open in curiosity, you see him snug against your body, face contorted with empathic fixation as he labors down your body. It’s intimate, yes, but also… loving. His tongue is warm against your breast, and his palms caress your skin with slow, delicate strokes; the same hands you’ve seen wield blood-soaked daggers and longbows.
He runs two digits along the stretchy fabric of your bottoms, lip caught between his teeth. He catches you staring and smirks up at you.
“Enjoying yourself?” he husks out, and you’re desperate enough to nod wordlessly.
He chuckles at your enthusiasm, hand smoothing down the waistband of your panties that peers from behind your bottoms. Not even your cutest pair, but oh well. He doesn’t even seem to notice, as his digits play with the elastic.
You’re already so exposed, but nothing can prepare you for what he does next.
With a few more kisses to your breasts, he tugs at the two waistbands, pulling down your pants and panties in one go.
The material slides off your legs and you hiss out, feeling the coolness caress your slick core. Your hands instinctively reach to cover up, but you’re stopped in your tracks by a strong grasp around your wrist.
“Oh no, no,” He looks up at you with an arched eyebrow, and somehow, despite his collected mien, you catch a soft dusting of pink across his cheekbones. “Don’t you dare deny me this view. Not after I’ve waited for so long.”
Your face heats up at the brazen comment, but that only seems to draw him closer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and he takes the hint immediately.
You connect in a heated kiss, and this time, Astarion is the one groaning against you. You work in tandem, like a gentle, effortless dance, heavy breaths intermingling in a sweet symphony of hums and sighs when…
You feel a touch against your heat. The contact is almost impalpable, yet your eyes flutter open in shock as the man’s fingers trace over your slit.
He withdraws from your kiss, hovering inches from your lips with a soft smile.
“S’unfair,” you slur, gazing up at him with a pleasure-drunken gaze. He exhales loudly, and you gasp. His fingers dip in, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “You— Gods—”
“Yeah? Tell me,” he taunts lowly, continuing his torturously languid movements with a devious smirk plastered on his perfect face. “What’s got you so bothered, my sweet?”
He dips down, teasing your entrance with his index. You pant softly at the prolonged stimulation, trying your damn best to stay focused on furrowing your eyebrows in mock anger.
“Got me so exposed and—” you trail tensely as his finger probes your entrance. “—And you’re still in your damn clothes.”
He hums in acknowledgment, but you doubt he’s even listening to you by how he surveys your body, bottom lip caught between his fangs. “I’m about to show you ‘generous’, like I promised.”
And then, he bottoms out. You moan, feeling two of his digits sliding into you, the slickness of your opening making it an easy feat.
You squeeze around him, and he pumps into you once, then twice for good measure. The sound of his movements is unbelievably and utterly obscene, making your stomach knot in delight.
“So wet already,” he purrs through a smirk, watching you writhe under him, “Don’t tell me our little sparring session got you this bothered.”
You roll your eyes, thighs squeezed tight around his wrist as you move your hips in tandem with his rhythm.
“Come on, talk to me,” he taunts again, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and letting his fingers fuck you in a steady, purposeful rhythm. “Now’s not the time to get coy.”
He switches gears, stopping his movement so he can curl his fingers inside you. He presses against the sweet spot, his thumb reaching to simultaneously rub slow circles against your swollen clit.
You cry out at the newfound pressure, the warmth in your belly twisting into a vortex of fiery delight.
“I—” you mewl against him, wrapping your fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I’m gonna— c-cum—”
His movements quicken at your desperate words, digits working hard against your favorite spot.
“Cum then, my darling,” he taunts firmly, his free hand roaming under your jaw and holding it in place. “Cum for me. Let me— let me look at you, sweet thing.”
Your glassy eyes struggle to focus on his face, but once they do, he hits something white-hot inside you.
His lips crash desperately onto yours, but you struggle to kiss him back through the blinding pleasure of your climax. It thunders down your legs, up your belly, making you cry out against his mouth as everything melts away into a wonderful oblivion.
The last thing you see before your muscles go lax is red.
He rubs your clit methodically through your high, letting you ride it out peacefully as he burrows into your neck again.
When your breath steadies, you feel his fingers slowly withdraw. The emptiness that follows makes you cry out softly, helplessly watching as the man runs his palms up and down your sides.
He presses a soft, soothing kiss against your swollen lips, and you can’t help but glare when you see that he’s still fully dressed, even after your heated orgasm.
He catches your pouting and raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, darling?” he purrs, pulling away to take you all in. You’re caught speechless when his hungry gaze scans down your nude body; starting at your smitten face and ending with a lingering glimpse at your spent pussy.
“Please,” you mewl out, raking your hands down his clothed abs. “Gods— Please take these off, I can’t—”
He does.
His hands momentarily withdraw from around you, and with a swift, deft move, he tosses his shirt off.
The silken cloth comes flying into the night like a phantasmal figure, and you watch it catch onto a stray branch to your right.
Your gaze skims hungrily down his sculpted body, watching his muscles tense and release with every little movement. Yes, you’ve seen him shirtless before, yet the context of your current predicament somehow makes it feel like it’s the first time all over again.
Unbeknownst to you, his hands work at his bottoms, swiftly unbuttoning the waistband and letting it sit loose against his hips. You catch a soft, white trail against the edge of his undergarments, leading down to a straining, tented mess below.
Your hand reaches out absent-mindedly, still drunk off the high of your climax and so, so desperate to finally feel him for yourself.
“Not so fast, darling,” he scolds, gently slapping your hand away and letting it wither at your side.
“Let me touch you,” you retort desperately, but he only chuckles as his fingers begin working at his waistband.
“You lost our bet,” he explains, sliding a thumb under the elastic and letting it lower. You catch the very base of his straining erection, and that taunting alone makes you gasp. “Gives me the upper hand.”
“Says who?” you hiss under your breath, failing to give him the glare he deserves as your eyes bore into his.
He gives you a once over, gaze drawing languidly over your exposed body, and only then does the extent of your nudity finally dawn on you.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
You shift under him, shimmying within the small space he allows, and he takes your brief distraction as a moment to unravel his pants completely. They drop to the ground behind you, leaving him in his undergarments, and you bite your lip at how dangerously lax they sit around his hips.
“I think I’ve left you waiting long enough,” he mutters, and your lips go ajar.
The thumb hooked into his briefs starts sliding down his waist, lower and lower until you’re finally even in terms of undress— and you’re ever so starstruck by the sight of his bulging cock hovering over your belly. It stands thick and taut within arm’s reach and you find the fact makes your mouth water.
Then, before you can think of touching him, you feel him place either hand below your knees. He looks up at you with a sly smirk, and you gasp softly when he pushes your thighs flat against your torso, feet in the air and scandalously exposed in front of him.
“You’re playing with me,” you mutter breathlessly, hissing as you feel his length stroking against your inner thigh.
His arms compress you tighter as you feel him lowering, the underside of his cock slapping against your tummy. The gasp that leaves your throat at the sudden contact widens your eyes, and he catches your gaze with his self-satisfied one.
“Do you like that I’m playing with you?” he follows up without a beat, his hips rutting forward. The movement is gentle, yet the pressure is enough to make you whine out in desperation— it’s also the only answer you manage to choke up for him before his cock slides between your wet folds.
“A-Ah— you fucking— fucking prick,” you hiss at the vampire, and so he bears his fangs at you through a wide grin. You find that it makes your breath hitch even amidst your despair.
“Now, now,” he reprimands, words syrupy, “bold words coming from someone so vulnerable.”
His nails dig into the soft flesh of your legs as he slides back and forth, taking meticulous care so that the head of his cock butts against your clit with every dip. The stimulation feels electric, and soon enough, you feel your still-sensitive body ramp up with heated energy for a second time this night.
A minute passes, yet it feels like an eternity. The air between you is thick with tension and the soft, repetitive harmony of your strained moans and his little gasps. You watch his eyes close in concentration, and despite his otherwise relaxed facade, you can tell he’s struggling to resist you by the way his eyebrows knit in the middle.
“Fuck me,” you breathe out, one of your hands extending to claw at his withholding forearm.
When your gazes meet, he looks surprisingly spent; eyes glassed-over, mouth ajar, and the slightest hint of sweat glazing his pale forehead. You realize that his domineering act seemed to come at the expense of his stamina: a resource you had slowly replenished in your comfortable position.
“Not— not yet, darling,” he hitches out, but the words appear tender and helpless to your trained ears. “I— I want to enjoy this— enjoy you—”
Your grip on his forearm tightens, making the bucking of his hips stutter. His eyebrow raises at your touch, but before he can shoot you a witty comment, you’re pushing him forward.
It happens within seconds.
Your knees straighten, feet slamming into his abdomen. He coughs at the sudden, unexpected impact, and you take the opportunity to grab tight onto his forearms. He falls backward, and just before his spine hits the soil beneath, you use the momentum to push yourself onto him.
When his eyes flutter open, you’re straddling his waist.
He blinks in brief confusion, surveying his surroundings before the crimson gaze finally turns to you.
He surveys your face, and you let him. The moment is like a silent meditation, heavy breaths intermingling as he takes your raw beauty in; the longing in your eyes, the soft dusting of pink across your nose, and ultimately, the plush of your lips he had ravaged mere moments ago.
Next, he moves to your body. His eyes scan down your taut nipples, down your tummy, and to the softness of your thighs squeezing his midriff to the ground. When he reaches the junction between your bodies, your hips buck as if on instinct.
“My, just how courageous we are,” he purrs under you, hands reaching to rub down the outside of your thighs. “I wouldn’t be so nice about your dirty tricks if I didn’t find this view thoroughly delectable.”
You shiver at his honeyed words, yet your gaze stays determined on him. Your palms go to rest atop his, marveling at the eccentric softness of his knuckles and the polarizing edge of the nails.
“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” you grin playfully, rocking your hips back to feel his hard length against the curve of your ass. When a soft hiss escapes his lips, you feel your ego inflate. “Sound familiar?”
His eyes roll, but the grin creeping onto his lips deceives him immediately.
His head tilts at you, fangs bearing in the soft moonlight. “You’re trouble.”
The mischief of your smile spins into a warm fondness. Your cheeks warm, and your heart swells, but you don’t quite understand why. “Oh how rich that is coming from you.”
And then you’re rising on your knees, hips hovering over his throbbing erection. Your palms connect, digits intertwining with his as you lower yourself onto him.
You test the waters first, letting his tip brush over your slit with feather-like touches. You hum gently at the teasing pleasure, and so does Astarion.
When you feel your tummy tightening with anticipation, you dive in. With a light shimmy, you line your hips with his, and with more desperation than you planned, you slide down.
You both hiss as the head of his cock penetrates you, the stretch making your palm tighten against his. You bend at the knees, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim after such a long, lonesome time.
Finally, you let your hips slam against his. The sudden, harsh movement makes you gasp out into the tantric air as his tip pokes against your womb. The dull pain quickly shifts into a flat, resonant pleasure, and you waste no time.
Your hips begin to buck against his, building a slow, steady rhythm until you’re confidently riding your vampire lover with a self-satisfied smirk on your lips.
Each thrust makes you mewl, moan, and cry out into the night, that pleasant angle of his cock hitting that same spot his fingers did just minutes ago.
His head rolls back into the ground, and with the remnants of his energy, he issues an occasional, quick rut into you. As it’s rare, you decide to savor it. You squeeze around him with the thrusts, and soon, you feel yourself running out of breath.
“I— I could let you do this for—hells— forever,” he hisses out, and suddenly, you feel his hands unclasp from yours and snake around your waist. “Where have you been all these centuries?”
Your upper body is dragged forward, your tits colliding with his toned chest when he pulls you into a tight, possessive embrace.
You gasp at the warmth between you, and your eyebrows soon furrow when you realize the position limits your hip movement. As you’re forced into a pause from your delirious riding, his lips crash onto yours.
Your tongues share a private, slack dance, heads tilting to adjust as you both hum and groan into the fiery kiss. You attempt to rut into him, and soon enough he gets the hint.
Keeping you immobilized against his chest, his hips pound up into you. The first few smacks are scandalously loud, and you revel in the newfound angle.
You’re lost in him, completely and utterly. When he moans, you respond with a hum— when his embrace tightens around you, you kiss him harder.
The familiar, fiery heat in your tummy bubbles up again. You feel it amp up, grow, and send jolts up your spine when suddenly, you’re being pushed up. When your eyes flutter open, you catch his still closed.
His chest stays firm against yours as he positions you upright, letting you straddle his hips as you’re both left sitting in the soft patch of grass and wildflowers.
With your body regaining its mobility, you start grinding against him again. The position allows for a deliciously intimate closeness, his cock burrowing deep into you as you resume riding him.
The pressure within you grows, emerging as a knot— threatening to unravel with every other thrust. Your clit rubs against the base of his groin, amplifying the pleasure into a sensation you’ve long forgotten about.
“A-Astarion—” you mewl out between kisses, and his hot breath tickles your face when he chuckles.
“Cum for me,” he sighs out, and the assertion comes off soft and pleading as it settles into the groves of your heart.
“O-Okay— I… I—”
He tightens his hold on your waist with one hand, as the other moves to cradle your cheek. His touch is unbelievably delicate and affectionate, and out of all the stimulation he had so graciously provided you this night, it’s that soft touch that sends you over the edge.
Your lips connect in one last kiss, and you moan throatily into his mouth. Your hips still, thighs squeezing as your pussy tightens around his cock in a moment of pure bliss. The steadily rising pressure in your belly finally tips over, sending a wave of bliss down your entire being.
Still, he keeps moving. You almost want to scream against him as his hips begin pounding into you again, the soft slaps quickening as he slowly peaks with you.
Withdrawing from the kiss to lean against your neck, he cums. Hard.
Your slowly declining climax seems to slam the gas pedal as you feel him release deep into you, the warmth spreading through your body like a genial embrace, a fact that makes him groan loudly against your mouth. Your breath stills in your throat, before finally releasing into a long, guttural moan— it echoes into the night, and your vision blurs.
White-hot bliss envelops your body, and you melt into Astarion’s for solace. You feel him grip you, caress your face, kiss away your adrenaline-fueled tears, and pant softly against your lips as your pussy spasms again.
Your orgasm envelops you in slow, pulsating waves as it withdraws, and you’re soon left huffing into the vampire’s flaxen locks. You think you hear him speak, but the ringing in your ears is too potent to know for certain.
Then, as the ringing finally retires, you hear him whisper your name. It’s a soft, patient call against the burning skin of your neck, one you commit to memory as you’re finally awarded your senses back— if only partially.
The forest feels exceptionally silent as you fall into his arms. You recognize the soft chirp of crickets in the distance, perhaps a distant hoot of owls, but it all seems to blend into an indecipherable blur as exhaustion floods your system.
Your head falls into the crook of his neck, and your mind sinks into the soft, languid thumps of his heart. His hand caresses your back, and you sigh deeply.
You sit there for what feels like hours, drinking each other in. You’ve waited so long, and finally, you’re at ease— it’s a feeling you wish to cherish, and if it wasn’t for the pesky passage of time, you’d choose to stay in this damned forest for eons; with him.
You feel him shift against you. His hands withdraw from your waist, and he whispers softly against you. “Come, my love.”
You hum in disagreement, face burrowing deeper into him. Yes, rosemary and brandy— now it’s clear to you.
He exhales sharply, and you smile into his neck. He waits for a beat, before placing a soft kiss to your temple. “Wait here.”
You nod gently and finally allow him to withdraw. The separation makes you sigh, your body shivering in the newfound cold of the night, but you persevere. In the longing to hold on to the moment for a little longer, you keep your eyes closed and hope he’ll return before you open them again.
You hear him shuffle around, walking from left to right, before finally returning to face you. “Hands up,” he mutters softly, and you do as you’re told in your pleasure-drunken stupor.
You feel him drape something silken over your sweat-slick body, the soft material draping your hips before coming to a stop at your thighs. When you breathe in, you immediately realize it’s not your shirt, so you grin.
When you’re comfortably wrapped up, he leans in. Once you finally sense the familiar warmth of his chest, you lean against his shoulder and breathe in his scent.
You’re surprised he does this for you. Tenderness is not exactly something you’d connect with a man of his past, of his skill. Yet, when his hands move to rest under your knees and back, you don’t resist.
He lifts you off the ground, letting your fatigued frame rest against him. He takes it upon himself to get you back to camp, safe and sound, and only slightly perturbed.
You drink in everything you can, letting yourself be greedy for once. The steadiness of his breath, his warm chest, the crinkling of leaves under his feet— it’s an image you swear to place, no matter what difficulties might threaten to befall you in the future.
And he’s silent up until you reach the campgrounds. The chatter of dinnertime has long died down, and when you open your eyes, you spot the crackling embers of firelight flickering away among a circle of stones. The flames cast a soft, warm light onto the closed tents, and you revel in the intimacy of the moment.
“Everyone met their bedtime while we’ve been naughty sneaking out,” he murmurs with a chuckle, and you close your eyes hurriedly in hopes of feigning slumber. Still, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face at his brazen comment.
You reach the outskirts and finally spot his tent just below an old, sturdy oak tree. You recall the talks you had out front so many times before, back when your feelings were just sparks of something much stronger and much, much warmer.
He crouches down and with an unsurprising agility climbs into the little shelter with you still in his arms. You lie slack against him, letting his arms lay you gently onto his woolen mat. You melt into the warmth almost immediately, sighing out dreamily when you feel his presence beside you.
It’s silent for a moment, and when your eyes finally flutter open, you catch him staring at you. His gaze is thoughtful but warm, lingering over your form with a certain glimmer.
“I guess it’s official, then,” you sigh out, closing your eyes again and letting a lazy smile drift over your features.
He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “What… what is?”
You chuckle softly at his awkward tone, shifting to the side and letting one of your eyes pop open to glance at him.
“My victory,” you state matter-of-factly before quickly shifting to your other side, facing away from him just to let a satisfied grin creep onto your face.
You don’t witness it, but his expression goes from tense, to disconcerted, to irritated in a matter of seconds. His eyes roll, and you suddenly feel a flat slap against your ass.
“Woah there, hey!” you gasp, followed by a cheeky giggle. Your head turns to face him from your comfortable position, and you catch him mirroring your grin.
“Quiet, now,” he commands softly, pivoting to lie beside you. His arm comes over your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Bet’s over, darling. I’m sorry to say, but you’ve not proven yourself capable. Shame, really.”
You blow a raspberry through your smile and shimmy closer to him, your body melting perfectly into his— a fact that has you near to falling asleep.
“Shame indeed. The look on your face was priceless when you ate dirt,” you shrug nonchalantly, “At least that’s the version I’ll be telling everyone come morning.”
He scoffs, the low rumble of it vibrating against your back, but his arm only tightens around you. You feel his face in your hair, breathing in your scent.
“If you do that, I might just have to kill you,” he mutters, but despite the intensity of the words, his voice is soft and loving against your head. His hand drifts to your belly, fingers tracing lazy circles against the soft skin there.
“You would never.”
He’s silent for a beat. Your lips open to build on your clever retort before you feel his sharp exhale on your neck.
“Sleep, darling,” he reprimands, squeezing your midriff gently.
You sigh contentedly, your lips brushing against the pillow as you settle deeper into his embrace. The tent is cocooned in warmth, but you feel the cool kiss of the evening breeze filtering in through the small opening at the entrance. Outside, the campfire crackles faintly, the last embers glowing like distant stars before fading into fine ash.
As you drift closer to sleep, wrapped in the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the world around you blurs into the peaceful haze of near-dreams.
Just as the veil of slumber begins to pull you under, you feel his lips press against your hair, a soft whisper brushing against your skin.
“As long as I'll live, I never could.”
852 notes · View notes
irawhiti · 1 year ago
Text
while everyone's rightfully talking about oppenheimer and its flaws regarding the erasure of japanese and native american voices regarding nuclear testing and detonations, i'd like to bring up the fact that pacific islanders have also been severely impacted by nuclear testing under the pacific proving grounds, a name given by the US to a number of sites in the pacific that were designated for testing nuclear weapons after the second world war, at least 318 of which were dropped on our ancestral homes and people. i would like if more people talked about this.
important sections are bolded for ease of reading. i would appreciate this being reblogged since it's a bit alarming how few people know about this.
--
in 1946, the indigenous peoples of pikinni (the bikini atoll) were forcibly relocated off of their islands so that nuclear tests could be run on the atoll. at least 23 nuclear bombs were detonated on this inhabited island chain, including 20 hydrogen bombs. many pasifika were irreversibly irradiated, all of them were starved during multiple forced relocations, and the island chain is still unsafe to live on despite multiple cleanup attempts. there are several craters visible from space that were left on the atoll from nuclear testing.
the forced relocation was to several different small and previously uninhabited islands over several decades, none of which were able to sustain traditional lifestyles which directly lead to further starvation and loss of culture and identity. there is a reason that pacific islanders choose specific islands to inhabit including access to fresh water, food, shelter, cloth and fibre, climate, etc. and obviously none of these reasons were taken into account during the displacements.
200 pikinni were eventually moved back to the atoll in the 1970s but dangerous levels of strontium-90 were found in drinking water in 1978 and the inhabitants were found to have abnormally high levels of caesium-137 in their bodies.
--
i'm going to put the rest of this post under a readmore to improve the chances of this being reblogged by the general public. i would recommend you read the entirety of the post since it really isn't long and goes into detail about, say, entire islands being fully, utterly destroyed. like, wiped off of the map. without exaggeration, entire islands were disintegrated.
--
as i just mentioned, ānewetak (the eniwetok atoll) was bombed so violently that an entire island, āllokļap, was permanently and completely destroyed. an entire island. it's just GONE. the world's first hydrogen bomb was tested on this island. the crater is visibly larger than any of the islands next to it, more than a mile in diameter and roughly fifteen storeys deep. the hydrogen bomb released roughly 700 times the energy released during the bombing of hiroshima. this would, of course, be later outdone by other hydrogen bombs dropped on the pacific, reaching over 1000 times the energy released.
one attempt to clean up the waste on ānewetak was the construction of a large ~380ft dome, colloquially known as the tomb, on runit island. the island has been essentially turned into a nuclear waste dump where several other islands of ānewetak have moved irradiated soil to and, due to climate change, rising seawater is beginning to seep into the dome, causing nuclear waste to leak out. along with this, if a large typhoon were to hit the dome, there would be a catastrophic failure followed by a leak of nuclear waste into the surrounding land, drinking water, and ocean. the tomb was built haphazardly and quickly to cut costs.
hey, though, there's a plus side! the water in the lagoon and the soil surrounding the tomb is far more radioactive than the currently contained radioactive waste. a typhoon wouldn't cause (much) worse irradiation than the locals and ocean already currently experience, anyway! it's already gone to shit! and who cares, right, the only ""concern"" is that it will just further poison the drinking water of the locals with radioactive materials. this can just be handwaved off as a nonissue, i guess. /s
--
at least 36 bombs were detonated in the general vicinity of kiritimati (christmas island) and johnson atoll. while johnson atoll has seemingly never been inhabited by polynesians, kiritimati was used intermittently by polynesians (and later on, micronesians) for several hundred years. many islands in the pacific were inhabited seasonally and likewise many pacific islanders should be classified as nomadic but it has always been convenient for the goal of white supremacy and imperalism to claim that semi-inhabited areas are completely uninhabited, claimable pieces of terra nullius.
regardless of the current lack of inhabitants on these islands, the nuclear detonations have caused widespread ecological damage to otherwise delicate island ecosystems and have further spread nuclear fallout across the entirety of the pacific ocean.
--
while the marshall islands, micronesia, and the surrounding areas of melanesia and polynesia were (and still are) by far the worst affected by these atrocities, the entirety of the pacific has been irradiated to some extent due to ocean/wind currents freely spreading nuclear fallout through the water and air. all in all, at least 318 nuclear bombs were detonated across the pacific. i say "at least" because these are just the events that have been declassified and frankly? i wouldn't be shocked to find out they didn't stop there.
please don't leave the atomic destruction of the pacific out of this conversation. we've been displaced, irradiated, murdered, poisoned, and otherwise mass exterminated by nuclear testing on purpose and we are still suffering because of it. many of us have radiation poisoning, many of us have no safe ancestral home anymore. i cannot fucking state this enough, ISLANDS WERE DISINTEGRATED INTO NONEXISTENCE.
look, this isn't blaming people for not talking about us or knowing the extent of these issues, but it's... insidiously ironic that i haven't seen a single post that even mentions pacific islanders in a conversation about indigenous voices/voices of colour being ignored when it comes to nuclear tests and the devastation they've caused.
5K notes · View notes
1aceinspace · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
Hscfgvjdgs its finally done and it only took me.. nearly 2 months... ☠☠
It was all worth it tho; it was a surprise commission gift for one the owners, and its 2 pups i used to take care of a lot. They have a special place in my heart and it brought me a lot of joy to paint their cute little faces :^]
1 note · View note
doumadono · 24 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Warnings: smut w/o plot, reverse cowgirl, creampie, mentions of ovulation, dom!Dabi, Dabi is a warning himself, ass spanking
A/N: what starts as a reckless kiss ignites into a desperate need you can't control. It's frustrating to admit, but ovulation turns you into a desperate, needy bitch — craving dick you shouldn’t want so badly...
MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II
Tumblr media
Who would’ve thought a single heated makeout session would leave you completely at Dabi’s mercy, again? Ah, you hated how vulnerable you felt while ovulating, every nerve in your body betraying you with raw, undeniable need for being stuffed with a dick.
Dabi’s scarred hands trailed over the skin of your back. Heat radiated from his fingertips, leaving a lingering ache that was equal parts thrilling and dangerous.
With a sudden, fluid motion, one of his hands captured both your wrists, twisting them behind your back in a firm, unyielding grip. The restraint forced you to arch, pressing your chest forward and sticking your ass out, leaving you utterly exposed beneath his smoldering gaze.
A low, involuntary moan spilled from your lips as the tension between pain and pleasure coiled deep within you. 
His breath ghosted over your ear, his voice a rough, sinful murmur. "Keep making sounds like that, and I might not let you go, never."
In a sudden shift, you paused riding his dick in a reverse cowgirl position, drawing yourself up and away from his throbbing cock. Your fingers wandered down to your pussy, delicately tracing circles around your clit, spreading the slick wetness that had gathered at your entrance over your sensitive folds, only to spank them a few times later with the hood of your palm. Then, with deliberate slowness, your hand reached out for Dabi’s dick again, and guided his angry red tip to the very brink of your entrance. You tantalized both of you, using just the head of his cock to rub your slit and part your swollen labia. "Fuck," you whined.
She’s oozing juices like the slit in an overripe peach, Dabi smirked to himself, amused by just how obscenely cute the comparison truly was. He couldn’t take his eyes off your strait pussy as you guided his dick back into your cunt, trying your best to not spread your legs too wide to make yourself tight for him.
The skirt he had gifted you the day prior — a scandalously short piece — flared with each descent, its hem dancing teasingly up your thighs, showing the thick, plushy meat of your ass. The black stockings, tight and silky, sculpted your legs, accentuating every curve and contour as they ended in the middle of your thighs. Your shirt lay forgotten somewhere in the shadows of Dabi’s room, leaving you only in your bra, straps slipping carelessly off your shoulders. It sat slightly askew, offering a teasing glimpse of soft, firm skin as your breasts bounced while you rode your boyfriend’s cock.
One scarred hand improved the grip on both your wrists, pressing them tightly behind your back, pinning you in place as he controlled your movements. The other rested lazily on the arm of the couch, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling lazily around his face. Dabi’s cerulean eyes, sharp and lidded, were locked on your ass, watching how his cock disappeared into your soaked pussy from behind. His shirt had long been discarded, but he hadn’t bothered removing his pants. As the heated makeout session intensified minutes earlier, breathless and driven by need, he simply unzipped and freed his cock out of its confines.
The burn in your thighs intensified with every passing second, your trembling legs barely holding you upright as you struggled to maintain the punishing position. Each strained movement sent electric pulses through your body, your muscles taut and aching, yet utterly consumed by the way Dabi’s cock stretched and claimed your seeping cunt — relentless, demanding, leaving no inch untouched.
A sharp tug on your captured wrists wrenched you deeper into the overwhelming sensation, forcing your back into a perfect arch. The position left you entirely at his mercy. 
He spanked your ass, growling like an animal. “Faster, bitch. Fuck, I love how wet you are during these days.”
Every thrust pushed his veiny cock deeper, dragging over every sensitive spot deep within you, the stretch burning painfully. The obscene sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room. 
His azure eyes, dark and hungry, locked on where his dick disappeared into your abused cunt, the wetness between your legs leaving a pearly shine on the rock-hard shaft that made his lips curl. “Look at that,” Dabi muttered, his voice low, gravelly, like the rough edge of sandpaper against your skin. His smirk widened as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke, the heat of his gaze fixed on your pussy making your stomach tighten. “Taking me so well. Bet no one’s ever stretched your little cunt like this before. Such a needy bitch. Who’d have thought you’d get so damn needy just from a kiss? Didn’t figure you were the type to melt just from someone else’s spit on your tongue."
“Dabi!” Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your thighs trembling as you struggled to keep up with the pace of his hips pistoning into you and maintain the balance of the position. His cock was slamming into you without mercy.
“Keep going,” he commanded, his grip tightening on your wrists just enough to make you whimper, your body responding to his dominance even as it threatened to overwhelm you. “Don’t make me do all the fucking work.”
The sound of your slick pussy meeting the hilt of his cock filled the room, louder than it should’ve been. Your mind was teetering on the edge of coherence as the burn between your thighs grew more insistent. Your body moved instinctively, hips rolling back against him despite the strain, desperate for more.
Dabi’s grin widened as he watched you struggle, his cock twitching inside you at the sight of your flushed cheeks as you turned your head slightly to look at him while moaning his name like a whore. “Knew you’d be a good bitch for me,” Dabi praised, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Look at how perfect you are like this. Made to take my dick. Bent like a string, just for my pleasure.”
You improved the hold on your skirt up around your waist and slowed down your pace to gyrate your pussy on Dabi’s cock. You leaned forward just enough to give him an unobstructed view of your slick, thoroughly filled cunt, stretched and claimed by his cock, the lips of your slick pussy sliding up and down his throbbing shaft with each roll of your hips.
After a moment, Dabi continued to thrust into you rhythmically from below, deepening the penetration. The cigarette in his hand flared as he took another slow drag, the ember casting an orange glow across his face. He exhaled the smoke directly toward you, the sharp scent mixing with the sweat on your skin as he chuckled darkly. “Bet you’re close, doll,” he rasped, his voice rough and low. His free hand slid to your hip, gripping with bruising intensity, his long fingers digging into your flesh possessively. The cigarette still rested lazily between his index and middle finger, smoke curling in the air as he thrust up into you with brutal precision, forcing you to take every inch of him, deeper and harder. “Don’t stop riding my cock,” he commanded, his tone sharp but lazy, as though he was enjoying every second of your submission. “I want to see you work for the orgasm. Make me believe you deserve to cum.”
You straightened your back as much as you could, holding yourself upright with grace. 
Dabi’s eyes traced the perfect curve of your spine, from the dip of your lower back to the elegant line of your neck. 
Your ass pressed firmly against his lower stomach with every drop. Gasping for air, you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his knees, your back arching again. Slow at first, you started rolling your hips faster, twerking your ass in a way that made Dabi’s cock throb inside your abused pussy which already was clenching around him.
The white haired man watched your ass cheeks bounce with every move, every arch of your back perfectly calculated to drive him insane. 
You glanced back over your shoulder, a wicked, tired smirk playing on your slightly parted lips. “Do you like my ass?” You teased, voice sultry.
“Fuck yeah,” Dabi rasped, tightening his grip on your hips as his nails scraped along your skin. “Keep going,” Dabi replied, accenting his words with a sharp spank delivered to your left cheek.
You bent even further forward, reaching your hands out, spreading your butt even more for him while furiously riding his dick, going up and down on his shaft. 
Dabi’s cock was wet and shiny with your runny juices, gripped tightly by your pussy walls.
You ground the tip of your boyfriend’s cock into your g-spot as you bounced up and down, your clit repeatedly smashing into his clothed thighs. 
“That’s it,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he flicked ash into the tray beside him, the smoke curling lazily around his hand. “Good fucking girl. Look at you — so desperate, so fucking ruined.”
Your head tilted forward, gaze falling to where your bodies joined, where his cock thrust into you with relentless precision. The sight made your pulse race, the way your slickness coated his dick, creating rings of white juices that slowly streamed down his shaft to his base, the way every inch of him disappeared inside you to reappear a second later. 
He noticed where your attention was, and his smirk deepened, his hips shifting upward to meet yours in a sharp thrust that made your vision blur. “You like watching, don’t ya?” he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement as he exhaled another plume of smoke. “Bet you love seeing how fucking ruined you are for me.”
Dabi reached a hand with the cigarette out and stroked your cheek, but you abruptly turned your head, snagged one of his free fingers with your lips, and sucked the whole length into your warm mouth, not paying attention you might have got burnt by the cigarette. He groaned and pumped his hips up into you. You sucked harder on his digit, and lifted your pelvis up until only the head of his cock remained inside you. For a heartbeat, you hovered there, then slammed down against his jeans-coated lap.
Rose, slammed down, rose, slammed down, over and over.
"Love feelin' how wrecked that pretty pussy is, all stretched and ruined from takin’ my cock,” Dabi chuckled lowly, spanking your ass with his free hand.
The sound of his voice, the raw dominance in it, sent you over the edge. Your body clenched around him, trembling, and you gasped, barely able to catch your breath as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you shaking in his grip. 
His smirk never faltered, his hand loosening slightly on your wrists as he let you collapse backward, your back pressing against his chest. Dabi erupted inside your cunt, spurt after spurt, but still keep thrusting.
Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the coil in your stomach tightening until it snapped, your second orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your legs trembled, your vision blurred, and your entire body shuddered as pleasure overwhelmed you being, your pussy clenching around his cock painfully as he groaned low and deep, still cumming inside of you.
Dabi held you there, pinned in place as you slowly rode out the aftershocks, your body trembling with exhaustion. His grin didn’t fade, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he finally released your wrists, letting them fall limp at your sides. “Good girl,” he murmured again, leaning back into the couch as he stubbed out his cigarette, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. 
Finally, you lifted yourself off him, feeling his unnaturally warm semen spill from your thoroughly fucked cunt, dripping onto his still-clothed lap. With a slow, deliberate grace, you stretched yourself lazily, his essence trailing down your trembling thighs in tantalizing streaks. Before you could even consider heading to the bathroom, his hand shot out with practiced precision, gripping your waist and yanking you back onto his lap. Your bare, overstimulated pussy, still slick and chilled from the cool air in the room, brushed against his cock — a touch that should have met soft flesh but instead found him thickening once more.
“Don’t ya dare thinking we’re even close to finished,” Dabi rasped, his breath hot against your ear before his teeth grazed the sensitive shell, sending a shiver down your spine as his calloused hands started fondling your tits. "I’m just getting started.”
Tumblr media
♡ The art on the banner was made by @explosion-island ♡ I'm a member of @pixelcafe-network
539 notes · View notes