#but we continue to persevere

[firenati0n]

Hi your sleeping in the same bed RWRB fic is the most in character that I’ve ever read and it was so lovely! You nailed that! Thanks for writing it :)

omg this is so kind of you to say!!! thank you so much, I really appreciate this!!!! thank you for reading 💛💛💛💛💛

the fic being referenced :)

[inkshadow]

closed starter for @sunliights featuring aster and peach, and eventually all of the choi family and their partners. maybe noemia is there with caelum too c:

"wow, you... you look amazing." the fact that he struggles to get the words out should be a testament in itself, for words can never really fail aster when he speaks so many of them all day, every day. this time, the singular word is more than fitting for how peach looks in her dress, much different to the ones she often dons when they're out for nice walks or trips outdoors. he approaches her carefully, like his presence alone will spook her right out of her garments, and eventually settles his hands at her tiny waist. "you're going to kill it tonight, i promise. they're all gonna love you! are you nervous?"

[cake-emu]

seen ppl on Twitter all "Carla doesn't cook but here she is chopping veggies for Lisa" and I will not be hearing this, no no no, Carla does cook, she's just frequently bad at it, and what I find so mind-bendingly endearing about that is that she doesn't let that stop her. she always keeps trying at it (except on Christmas Day), and sod what anyone says about it

[maxthefromg]

ITS PRIDE !!!!!

so ocs

[vizishereig]

Chreon Week: Confessions (Day 2)

The TV is quiet, but still loud enough to hear, playing some sort of comedy show that takes place in a police station. Leon watches it with a mix of amusement and longing. Could that have been him if things had gone differently? Hanging out with coworkers, joking with fellow officers, the friendly competition?

He idly wonders if Chris and himself would have seen each other. It’s not improbable, with the other working in the S. T. A. R. S. office. They would’ve crossed paths every once in a while, for sure. Would they have caught each other’s eyes then? Would they have danced around each other for this long, trying to figure out if the other had liked them?

Leon’s brought out of his thoughts by heavy footsteps nearing the couch. He tenses a little, training more than actual fear, turning to see Chris coming towards the couch. The taller male rubs at his eyes blearily, probably having just woken up to find Leon missing from the bed. He rounds the couch, sitting next to Leon, and tilting over to lean heavily on the blonde.

Leon huffs, amused, but shifts, leaning back so he’s laying with Chris atop him, the other’s head on his stomach. The weight is more grounding than constricting, and Leon relaxes easily, the two of them facing the TV. His hands come up to scratch at Chris’s head absentmindedly as they watch the show, causing the male to go almost boneless on top of him. Leon smiles tiredly at that, his heart doing something funny in his chest.

The two of them are quiet for a while, both of them exhausted. It’s Leon who finally breaks the silence, the quiet itching at him, reminding him a bit too much of the silence of the RPD. He doesn’t have much to talk about, so his tired brain picks the first thing he can think of.

“You know,” Leon begins, tongue loose with exhaustion, tone more than little slurred with sleep, “I had a bit of a crush on you, even before I met you. An idealized one, but one nonetheless.”

Leon doesn’t look down, but he can imagine the confusion that probably appears on Chris’s face. It would be quickly washed away by a smile, one that’s either smug or fond. He can feel Chris twisting around to try and look at him, so he looks down.

Brown eyes are looking up at him, and yep. A fond smile decorates the other’s face, curiosity tinting his gaze. Leon looks back at the TV, a bit too tired to be embarrassed about his confession. Hands gently rub circles into his back where they’re circled around him.

  “Yeah?” Chris replies, voice also tired, but more than a little curious. “How come?”

  Leon tips his head back a bit, thinking. Claire had certainly factored into it with how often she’d talk about Chris. When she’s not around her brother, she’s all sweet words and compliments about him. The picture she’d shown him had completed whatever fondness he’d have for the male, as he was rather… well, cute in his younger years.

“It’s Claire’s fault,” Leon finally says, allowing his gaze to stay on the ceiling, tracing patterns with his eyes. There’s a soft laugh, and Chris’s chin settles on his stomach. Leon looks down, and those eyes are still looking at him, still so fond. But they’re also drifting shut. Leon hums softly, turning the TV off and shifting a little. Chris’s eyes open again.

“Time for bed?” he asks, smile still decorating his face. Leon nods, agreeing. Time for bed.

[itsythebitsyspider]

Like obviously I’m not giving up, im going to try again. But the itsy bitsy spider waited for the sun to dry up all the rain before it climbed up the spout again.

So pardon me if I have myself a little pity party before I get back up and punch life in the nose for trying to push me down onto the floor and make me stay there.

[romeo-the-homeo]

sorry for yesterday everybody im normal again 🙏🏼

[tiredtriedfailures]

seeing dabi edited without his scars for the first time: huh. okay thats cool i guess. helpful for artists to isolate his features maybe

seeing it the millionth time: im gonna start throwing rocks at you people

[mahrahpalestine]

Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich to : "Preparations have begun with the Americans for implementing voluntary migration. I estimate that migration will begin within weeks

Another statement regarding the West Bank..

Israeli Finance Minister Smotrich: The goal for 2025 is to demolish more than what the Palestinians build in the West Bank.”

We are facing very difficult and harsh plans. We need your help to strengthen steadfastness and perseverance.

Please support our families here so we can continue to stand firm in our land.

[alaaalkhateeb]

Verified by @el-shab-hussein 🙏����

Please don't skip 🙏🏻🚨🚨

Hello my friends it is me Alaa an engineer from gaza , it is 1:00 am now and it have passed 👇🏻🚨

300 days That means 3600 hours That means 12,960,000 seconds From death, hunger, humiliation, cold, hot, disease and disgust 😭😭

I was a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and a successful engineer. I had my own home and work, and I lived in love and warmth with my family.❤️❤️

But in one moment, everything was destroyed, and I lost my home and my job, and my family lost their home and their work, and we fled with one bag to escape the bombing and death 😭💔

We have lived a very difficult life, with no clean water to drink, no food for the children, no gas, and no shelter.

My mother suffers from cramps in her limbs, which got worse during the war due to the harsh living conditions, and she needs immediate treatment 🥹

After 7 months of this hard, horrible and continues war i was able to escape with my children, but my family which consists of 6 people, 2 of them are elderly my mum and dad they need to have medication still at gaza under war 😭

Please reblug this post and donate if you can 🙏🏻

Please share 🙏🏻 @palipunk @nabulsi @northgazaupdates2 @sayruq

[firenati0n]

wip wednesday <3 :)

hello friends, it has been a while...thank you for all of the tags over the last few weeks <3 i really appreciate the love. queueing this post early :)

here's a long snip from something i am writing for fun in a doc aptly titled "proposal au chapter 1 henry pov"

if you have not read proposal au and are interested in a little romcom, here is the link :) - fully posted, 54k :)

Henry has a routine, honed after years of trial and error, comfortably adopted now by him and those important to him. Typically, he wakes up, gets ready for the day, makes sure David has everything he needs in Henry's absence—which reminds him, he needs to ask Alex for more treats soon—and then walks at a moderate but comfortable pace to the 4 train. Somewhere in the middle of all this, his brain spares a moment to wonder what Alex's face will look like in the morning. If his hair will be neat with defined curls, or tousled in a cheeky nod to his night's activities. The latter makes his stomach churn, just a little.  Today, however, feels different. Something is in the air. It goes— David whines at his feet before he leaves, so he takes an extra three minutes to soothe him before leaving, because regardless of what people may whisper behind his back, he's no monster. The train pulls into the platform seven minutes behind schedule, resulting in at least twenty-five percent more congestion and more harried commuters squishing into Henry's space, the air a mix of cologne and sweat and stress.  Then, after walking into the office at 8:25am—too close to his regular time for comfort, requiring him to walk at brisk pace instead of a leisurely stroll—he watches as the people in the elevator don't hold the door for him, even though they absolutely saw him walking hurriedly to catch it. And then, as he's rounding the last corner between him and his blessed office at 8:28am, he gets stopped by Amy and her newest embroidery project, a floral arrangement of sorts, which is admittedly very lovely. Maybe she should work with the design team sometime for one of the book covers, she'd be an excellent asset.  So, he definitely cannot be blamed for his tetchy attitude when he walks into his office at 8:32am, late and desperately in need of some bloody tea. He runs an agitated hand through his hair as he heads to his desk, a thrum of nervous energy making him restless. 

xoxo roop

open tag + tagging back some friends and folks who got me over the last few months fjaskldjflasf sorry if i missed anyone! my brain is like scrambled eggs rn:

@kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @alasse9 @jafffacakess @porcelainmortal

@run-for-chamo-miles @onward--upward @blueeyedgrlwrites @suseagull04 @judasofsuburbia

@caterpills @rockyroadkylers @seths-rogens @orchidscript @onthewaytosomewhere

@energievie @indestructibleheart @clockwrkpendrxgon @everwitch-magiks @sophie1973

@eusuntgratie @stellarmeadow @rmd-writes @fairflowered @incalamity

@anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @cricketnationrise @miss-minnelli @itsmaybitheway

@whimsymanaged @zwiazdziarka @milowren29 @msmarvelouswinchester @sherryvalli

@getmehighonmagic @welcometololaland @thedramasummer @priincebutt @stratocumulusperlucidus

@leaves-of-laurelin @14carrotghoul @anchoredarchangel @clottedcreamfudge @tintagel-or-cockleshells

@dumbpeachjuice @shesfromboston @miharaikko @theprinceandagcd @kj-bee

[thursdayg1rl]

god FINALLY this hell day is over

[ranoshfamily]

🚨Emergency🚨

Help Rana’s family toleave Gaza before it too late

Hello humanities 🤗🤗

Please read this as if I'm a member of your family . maybe your sister, daughter or a friend and as if my family who's under death now is yours.

"I am a computer Engineer and Mom for 3 children from Gaza , Rana Hassan Alabsi, with a strong ambition and perseverance. Over the past 10 years, I've worked tirelessly, I've dedicated myself to my family, working hard, planning, building my career. Despite facing challenges, I became a well-known professional engineer in Gaza.

 

Unfortunately, my life has been upside down since Oct ,Since that particular day, thousands of innocent lives have been lost in Gaza, many of innocent people lost their works and the only source of income like me.

Me and my childrens 1 of them, he is10 years old with downsyndrom and need a safer place and health care to still a live, left our home under the continuous bombardment and artillery strikes, on foot, without carrying with us our personal supplies, clothes, or Even our money, heading from Gaza to Deir al-Balah. There in Deir al-Balah we lived the most difficult days of our lives in a shelter with scarce resources, sleeping on the ground.

Without covers, without drinking a healthy water, then we moved to Khan Yunis after the intensification of the strikes and bombing, Then we moved to Rafah in the hope that we would find safety there or find a way out of Gaza to a safe place that we dream of for the future of our children,Let us live a happy, safe life for us and our children, and keep them away from all this pain, destruction, and siege, and spare them from the miserable future that will await them if the situation continues as it is in Gaza.

I come to you with a heavy heart and an urgent call for help. My family are currently caught in the war in Gaza, facing the harsh reality of an escalating crisis. The situation is dire, and I am reaching out for your support to facilitate their safe passage to Egypt. In this moment of desperation, I share the situation where it has taken a toll on their well-being.

This urgent plea is not only for their safety but also for the health of my son, who is facing serious conditions that demand immediate attention.

My family is trapped in an environment where access to necessary medical care is severely limited. The escalating crisis compounds the urgency, especially considering my son's health conditions. Time is of the essence, and we are in a race against it to get him the vital medication and care he desperately needs.

My loved childrens are in a situation beyond their control. The fear in their eyes and the desperation in their hearts are indescribable. I implore you to be a beacon of hope for them, to be the force that guides them to safety. To be honest, the journey to safety comes with a significant financial burden.

We need the money to cover practical costs of transportation, documentation, a place to stay and shelter in and other essentials required for a safe crossing to Egypt. And so that they can take care of other needs once they cross safely. As of late April the evacuation fee ranges between $8,000 and $10,000 per person, before processing and transport fees, and we will pay the higher end of the range since Hayde doesn't have passport. Me and my family asking for 50,000$ based on the following breakdown: an evacuation fee at the Egyptian border of $8,000 - $10,000 per person , $4500 - $5000 per children as each day there is a different price for evacuation fee at the Egyptian border, plus a processing fee of $2,000 per person, $2,000 for transportation, and a 2.9% commission fee.

Any amount raised beyond the total will be used to supplement me & my family lives as refugees in Egypt. Your donation, no matter how small, will make an impact. You will be contributing to getting my family to safety. The funds will be used transparently and every dollar will go towards securing our evacuation.

Please share this campaign widely to help us reach our goal and bring my family to safety. Your support means more than you can imagine and I am incredibly grateful for any assistance you can provide during this challenging time. Thank you for your compassion and generosity. Together, we can make change and help my family find the safety and security they need".

instagram account : @help_my2024

My sweaty home before 7th oct

After 7th Oct

Vetted by:

Thank you very much 🌸🌸

@importantt-reblogs , see the Vetted Link

[elliethefroggy]

Sad day for Martians,

Ingenuity, the ‘little helicopter that could’, the first ever helicopter to fly on another planet is down. It took its final flight on the 18th of January where one or more of its roter blades were damaged.

We weren’t even sure it was possible to fly a helicopter on Mars before Ingenuity, and yet this tiny little shoe box of a helicopter managed to fly in an atmosphere less than 1% as dense as Earth’s, flying a total of 72 times in the last 3 years, far exceeding the 5 planned flights.

Having arrived on Mars hitched to the Perseverance rover’s belly, this little guy has spent these 3 years scoutting ahead for Perseverance. But now Perseverance will have to continue its mission without Ingenuity. For the first time since its creation, Perseverance is on its own in that endless red desert.

(images of Ingenuity were taken by NASA/JPL-Caltech/ASU)

[pink7princess]

maybe, for a bit.

abby tries riding your (her) strap for the first time!!

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ content: nsfw!!! top-ishfem!reader calls abby—“mommy” still, switch/subby abby :333

┊͙ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ authors note: this is a tad short but it’s abby so likeee (the goodie goodness!!!) this is inspired from this twitter sfm...i know, i know, owen is there…MEGA YUCK. but!!! stay with me now. imagine you in his place. GOD DAMNNNN WATCHING HER PRETTY PINK ASS BOUNCE ON IT AHHHHH mommy lemme hit fr :p

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪: scream my name—thomas larosa

abby had a rough day at the gym today. and shit, school (college!au) was kicking her ass too. but—gladly, the semester was almost over. she really really needed to blow off some steam. she was constantly exhausted and made a fuss about everything from being overwhelmed 24/7. now, abby’s pouting as she struggles to use the right key on the lock of your shared apartment. you hear the jangling of her keys outside the front door as you relax on the couch, legs propped up, sipping iced tea with glossed lips around the straw. your eyes, glued to your phone screen, scrolling & reading wlw webtoons. you’ve been waiting for abby to watch a movie or a show tonight, because like the sweet girlfriend you are—you love to ease her pretty mind. but little did you know, she was so whiney and tired…you wanted to help another way.

abby groaned as she stumbled in, throwing her head back, "fuck—baby," she whines with a scrunch of her pretty nose, tossing her bag beside the door. you jerk your head to the door at her complaint, a huge smile growing across your face, "come here."

you hop off the couch, arms open, embracing her pretty body. she’s wearing a compression long sleeve and you could feel her sweat. abby's body is incredibly warm, goodness—you know she must've overworked herself at the gym. you shake your head disapprovingly, “should’ve skipped it today.” she holds your waist close, letting you stand on you tippy toes to kiss her drenched cheek. she kisses the top of your head, “fuck. yeah.” abby’s exhale stirs your chest, making you cheekily smile.

you look up at her with admiration, loving her perseverance despite how fatigued she is, “come on, you need to relax.” you rub her shoulder in a massaging manner, making her sigh longingly. “alright.”

you lead her to the couch, eyes watching her over your shoulder with a little smirk.

plopping on the softness, you pull her beside you. with a silly chuckle, you sprawl across her, head on her thighs and your legs sticking up on the top of the couch. you reach for the remote on the coffee table.

turning the tv on, your other hand rubs her own that she places on your stomach, you ask with a sing-song voice, “should we continue arcane—orrrrr…” your eyes fix on the screen, scrolling through netflix, studying multiple titles. abby tosses her head back on the couch, a dramatic groan leaving her soft lips, “i don’t know.”

you glance up at her, intrigued by her sudden annoyance. abby’s eyes rest shut as gulps preciously. you can tell how drained she looks. man. “what do you wanna do, huh, baby?” you tease, staring down at her hand, tracing her fingers.

“i-i don’t know.” she whispers gently, sounding so soft, “we don’t have to watch tv.” you smile gently, turning the tv off and tossing the remote on the table.

she rubs her face using her other hand, exhaling roughly. you tilt your head lovingly, “want me to run you a bath, pretty girl?”

you flip your body, turning fully towards her, giving her your undivided attention. laying down flat on your side, your hands rest flat on top of one another, resting on abby’s thigh, separating your head from her thigh.

abby shakes her head no, finally looking down at you. her eyes scan your angelic features, painting how she’s so sweetly in love.

“what do you want me to do?” you question, voice small.

you inhale, trying to think, rubbing your soft calves together.

suddenly—you accidentally catch the delicious scent between her legs. fuck, your chest tightens with sudden arousal. her after-gym smell…it always unlocks something primal within you. you don’t fucking know why.

it feels almost predatory how turned on you get…but the ironic thing is—you look like prey. abby constantly tops you. but not always.

you smirk mischievously, sitting up slowly. “hey, abs.” abby watches your gentle body moving, almost hypnotized.

without a word, your gaze bores into hers, seeing past her exhaustion. her eyes crave your affection. but how? ohhhh, you know.

you lean forward, kissing her pouty lips, instantly sticking your tongue in. you straddle her lap, hands groping her tense shoulders. her eyes widen at the familiar feeling, melting into your touch. abby’s been so caught up in schoolwork, the two of you have hardly done together anything in the past month. but, the way one of your hands linger to her waistband will say otherwise.

~~~ ⚢ ~~~

you don’t know how. but you sure know why—abby, an average topper is writhing above you, softly panting curses under her breath. your adoring eyes scan her body, mesmerized by her naked bottom half, panties hung to her ankle and chest still plastered with that sexy compression shirt.

you convinced her somehow, probably by your wandering hands and teasing eyes, on suggesting you could loosen up her nerves. your sexy plea made abby consider it. however—within abby’s quick thought process, you had eagerly scrambled to go retrieve the strap and harness, bringing it back with a huge goofy smile. you wanted to help her. the way she helps you. and—come on, there’s a first time for everything.

abby felt proud in a way. sighing with a growing smile, she nodded you over.

the sight of her spreading her legs to take this big thing excited you.

as you lay in your pink push-up bra—you grip abby’s hips tightly, feeling her warm silk chiffon skin shake under your hot palms. her hips undulate sharply as she holds your torso, balancing herself well. her soft choked whimpers create a tightness in your chest as you gawk at how the fat strap slips in and out her juicy pussy deliciously, so fucking deliciously.

you can feel her burning gaze while you pathetically stare up at the unfamiliar view.

my god, she almost looks like she belongs on top of you like this.

her compression long sleeve is blocking something you need to see. your hands push up her shirt almost frantically, letting her small tits plop out. and oops—abby hisses as the cool air hits her pretty pink nipples, your fingers groping her goosebumped skin. god, the sight of her shirt riding up makes you bite your bottom lip harshly with lust. you lean forward and needily take one of her small plump tits in your mouth, sucking the nip till the hardness softens. “fuckkkk,” she cries out, eyes rolling back with a pant. your soft hands grip her doughy ass cheeks, spreading her pussy lips, letting the strap graze every part of her gushing hole.

you and your desperate doe eyes watch her puffy clit slam against the harness, up and down, the hypnotizing sight making your mouth salivate. an appetizing creamy white ring at the base of the dildo is slicking a jarring white. your gaze lingers back up to her contorted features. her body makes your eyebrows furrow with overwhelmed desire, loving how she’s practically falling apart above you. her strong big body on your gentle one…ugh—it’s just too fucking good. you huff out roughly, brain fuzzing as if you could actually feel it.

abby is so fucking sexy. lord, why haven’t you tried this earlier? her urgent gasps. the way her ass is shaking in a such pornographic way. this is somehow fucking your dumb brain stupid. but, craziest thing is: you’ve never seen her unravel like this—god, it turns you on so badly. because i mean, yeah— you’ve seen her cum a billion times grinding her wet clit against the harness when she fucks you—or orgasming from your sweet tongue or fingers! but…this? the dick she uses to fuck you is so deep in her sopping cunt, bruising her throbbing cervix? fucking shit—your mind is so cloudy with the sight of her jiggling tits and erotic moans.

you love this, damn, you can feel your arousal leaking down to your asshole. however—this type of wetness was…drastically different from your average desire. it seems the need of your own release—is simply faltering, giving way to the rooted desire of needing to watch her eyes flutter shut as she gasps with a squeal, cumming all over your dick. this feeling…you’ve never craved it as much as now.

this is full lesbian intoxication, abby’s puffy pink lips, gaped, head thrown back pathetically…toned abdomen sweaty, her loud slick, heaving chest, fuck, and the best part—her blonde bush. you start whimpering at the state of your shaking girlfriend.

abby’s grip on your torso is almost mean, the plunging strap hitting that velvety spot over and over.

her heavy thrusts down on the strap makes your smaller frame shake.

the way her solid thick thighs ripple against your cute plump ones continuously makes your needy ass wish this could last forever. shit, she looks way too good on you like this. her ass is slapping against your skin, the sensual sound making your heart ache with the crave of wanting to be with her and her only for the rest of your fucking life. abby groans deeply, “fuck this stupid shirt,” making you softly chuckle as you realize the way it was riding up must’ve been gathering heat.

she pulls her shirt over her head, struggling a bit with the sleeves. you laugh a little, hands attempting to help but the moment you reach for her, she finally tosses it on the floor.

fuck.

abby’s freckled muscular shoulders and tender boobs loom over you, creating a heavenly sight. her glassy blue eyes plead such desperation, making you wince with the crave to resolve her pleasure. “c’mere, mommy.” you gently whisper, eyes locked onto hers, smaller arms spread for a hug.

abby leans down, taking you in her arms almost as she does in missionary… and you grin widely, her freckled cheeks coming into view. abby’s soft face had seemed to gather a sheen of sweat, making her glow in such a precious way. the way her face twists with a pain-like expression (raw pleasure) makes your small ass want to.. for some reason…protect her.

this must be what abby feels when you’re beneath her.

abby’s pace slows slightly, her sexy hips no longer bouncing, now—grinding deeply. her begging lips, only inches away, fanning her hot breath, dawns a bright pink blush on your cheeks.

her strong nose grazes your cheekbone as you both happen to gaze down between your bodies and…the strap is buried. inside. her. witnessing the sight together...damn, the new power dynamic you unlocked made both of you red.

abruptly, abby pathetically kisses you, her wet lips gripping yours. her taste ignites an incredible new idea. and shit—you know it so well because obviously, abby’s done it a million times to your whiney ass. her tongue continues dancing with yours as you raise your thighs, lifting her slightly. you hold abby’s waist tightly, beginning to pump your hips up into her, fucking her slowly.

she moans into your mouth, hands resting on your shoulders as the sounds reverberate into the steamy kiss.

you accelerate your thrusts, kissing her harshly as if you were close. you can tell how the tip is grazing her g-spot rather too well when abby’s gentle whimpers become frantic. her breath quickens, gasping sharply, gripping your shoulders as she definitely leaves crescent-shaped indents from her nails. her cream still gathers at the base, blocked by the harness, sadly incapable of reaching your own. shit—you wince with a sort of anger, thrusting faster, wishing you could feel her. you whine softly feeling her heat against the leather. ”fuck, mommy.”

abby pants your name rapidly under her breath, in a panicky manner, whimpering and eyes watering, “i’m-gonna…shit—c-cumming-!” her voice squeaks as her thighs writhe, her body completely quivering.

her voice hitches as her eyes roll back, drool dribbling down her lip from having her mouth parted for so fucking long. abby’s sounds subside, the room only echoing the claps of your continuing hips.

she washes over her orgasm, shuttering, burying her face in your neck, voice quaking, “fuck…” her cum gushes down the strap, coating it a bright white.

your hips gradually move to a passionate pace, pistoning deeply, fucking her cum back into her dripping cunt.

you wish nothing else could ever matter.

your thrusts fully come to a stop, the panting abby slowly moves up, shaking as she lets the strap slip out with a squelchy plop.

abby sighs deeply with a huge smile, leaning down to kiss you lovingly, her sweat on her temples making you feel so glad that you relieved her in a new way today.

“that was…” she quietly whispers against your lips, “we should do that more.” her sexy words make you nod fervently, your tired grin spreading across your bright red face.

“yes, please.” your voice sounds small, lovingly watching her sweaty body with joy—a little more than you should. abby teasingly beams, “you liked that, huh, you gorgeous girl?” her lips brush against your sensitive neck, pecking your sweet skin. abby’s voice was no longer ginger but sensual. her hands push off you as she leans off your lap.

you groan, missing her weight on you. your pretty eyes follow her plump freckled ass, showing a huge glint of patheticness. abby notices and grins devilishly,

“don’t worry, baby. we can keep going.” her voice was sultry and almost assertive as she went to go grab a hand towel from the kitchen, your gaze following her swaying hips and plump smalls tits. holy hell, her pussy is slightly gaped from how terribly the strap stretched her out, damn.

walking back, wiping her sweaty face, abby’s head flickers to the clock on the wall, realizing the night’s still young.

her mischievous stare lands on the gooey strap, smiling back at you, loving your cute eager face.

“can we?” you ask, your tone kind and eyes glimmering.

“alright definitely, maybe—just maybe, for a bit.”





~~~ ⚢ ~~~

chat this was a little self indulgent because i may or may not be ovulating… and worst of all, the wet dream i had after watching that stupid video was ACTUALLY insane🎀 I LOVE YOU SUB ABBY!!!!!

[hivemuthur]

Request: something with sex pollen or accidental aphrodisiacs (science experiments?). And not like dubcon. More like Viktor/Reader have unconfessed feelings and apparently one or both of them needs to be drugged and desperate for sex to get them out. Idk if it’s your thing but I’d be interested to see your take on it.

I remember the evening I got this ask. I was like yesss and my friends gave me the look, you know?

Unknown Variable

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! sex pollen, but I've managed to plot it up a bit. From warnings: unsafe sex, rough sex, lots of fluids, brief mentions of experimenting on animals. The substance here is based on how fentanyl works, sort of :') I had to make myself a loop hole for something I wanted to write for the longest time :v

word count: 4,5K

author’s note: Freaktor Nation, how we feeling? Thank you for granting me another porn-writing fiddler milestone Anon :') beautiful artist behind the cover is @petitesieste 🖤

—

Your idle hand plays with the pendant of your necklace while the other scribbles down notes from the last test. Another miss. And life goes on in pain.

Finding a medication that alleviates pain without an endless list of side effects has been Sisyphean work, to say the least. Every time you think you’re close, something immune to compromise pokes its insistent head through the crack you’ve made in the never-fully-open door to the human pain receptor map.

To be honest, your ambitions to cure pain have long been tempered. Now, it’s merely about making it less relentless—offering people who struggle with it a brief reprieve, something to make it manageable. Not that Viktor was your inspiration, but he is a constant reminder of why you should keep going when every trial eventually turns to dust.

"Why do you insist on keeping such thorough documentation of the rejected ones?" The said reminder peeks over your shoulder, his hair tickling your cheek.

You huff, masking how startled you are, and mutter, "Of all people, you shouldn’t be asking stupid questions."

"There is no such thing. Only stupid answers," he counters, eyes still glued to your notes. "It’s a very noble goal, you know, but you might have to come to terms with the fact that a complete erasure of pain may simply be impossible."

"Again. Of all people, you should not speak of the impossible, Viktor," you smile under your nose and turn your head just enough to see that he’s smiling, too. A jest.

"I'm only teasing you," he hums, reaching out to point at something on the page. "This… is not bad. Persevere, you will get there."

His fingertip lands right next to where your hand has frozen mid-writing, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his palm. For a brief moment, you allow yourself the illusion that Viktor is doing it intentionally. But the thought vanishes as soon as he straightens and clears his throat.

"I'm not sure I will continue with this one," you admit, tapping your pen against the page. "It gets rid of skeletal pain but gave my rats a headache to die for."

"Oh, no, no." Viktor shakes his head, eyes still scanning your notes. "This one, you shouldn’t abandon. Perhaps just tweak it."

"Tweak it?" You scoff, slumping back in your chair. "Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tweaked it?"

"I can only imagine," he replies with a wry smile. Then, after a beat, he leans in again, tapping a precise point on the intricate web of chemical formulas—lines and hexagons scrawled across the page. "I am no chemist, but this… just tickles the wrong part of the brain. Make it tickle the right one, and it might actually work."

It’s hard for him to mask the undertone of hope lingering in his voice. Hope that you will find the answer. Hope that your relentless pursuit of relief for those who suffer will finally bear fruit. And, if he allows himself a moment of selfishness, hope that his own pain, the dull ache that never leaves him, might one day be eased.

But there is something else, something unspoken and far less rational. Viktor has always found himself drawn to you, not just in admiration for your intellect, but in the way you work—how you lean too close to your notes, muttering under your breath, the way your fingers absently play with whatever they can find when you are deep in thought.

Since the early years at the academy, he has enjoyed working by your side more than he would ever admit. When your paths eventually diverged—yours to chemistry, his to engineering—he felt the loss more acutely than he had expected. There was pride, of course, in seeing you forge your own path, and such a noble one at that. But the empty spaces where you used to be, the missing sound of your voice arguing a point over some formula or blueprint, left a quiet ache that he did not know how to soothe.

Sometimes, when the solitude stretches long enough, he allows himself the indulgence of believing he was your inspiration. That some part of your devotion to this research, to this particular pursuit, was born from those long nights spent together over textbooks and dimly lit workbenches. But the thought is always fleeting, because minutes later, you will wave a dismissive hand at him, shooing him away to his own lab with a teasing remark, and he will remind himself that he is a fool for entertaining such notions.

It is not as though there have been no opportunities. There have been moments—unguarded, lingering occasions where it might have been easy to reach, to say something, to step beyond the line of friendship. But somehow, the time was never right. And so, this one thing, he never felt like he could touch.

You blink a few times, scrunch your eyebrows, and hum. The pen gets trapped between your teeth as you pick up the sheet and bring it close to your face, as if looking at it from a smaller distance would somehow make it clearer.

“You know, you might be right,” you finally say in a tone that suggests Viktor is never right.

A chuckle rumbles out of him. “Unthinkable,” he snorts, leaning on his cane and offering you a smug, satisfied grin.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be so pleased with yourself,” you chide, but the corner of your mouth betrays a smirk. “Thank you. I must ask you to leave me to be a genius now.”

“Ah, there it is,” he sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Served my purpose, and now I’m being unceremoniously chased away.”

“Don’t sulk,” you tease, waving him off as you set the paper back down. “I’ll even put your name in teeny-tiny little scribble on the leaflet.”

“You spoil me,” he deadpans, shaking his head as he turns to leave. He pauses by the door, glancing back at you with an affectionate smirk. “Fine. Let me know how it goes.”

Before you can say, “You’ll be the first one to know,” Viktor is already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. You give yourself a moment to rub the stupid feeling of light-headedness away from your temples before setting back to work.

What was meant to be a small tweak stretches into hours. Then days. Then, after two weeks, as you stand in front of the blackboard, the realisation you hadn't anticipated settles over you. Whatever you’ve created will inevitably end the already miserable lives of your test rats. Other than that, the medication looks as ready as it will ever be.

You could wait, of course—gather a group of willing human test subjects and conduct the trial properly. But let’s face it—you’ve waited long enough. And it’s right there.

Your jaw aches from hours of clenching, your sleep has been erratic at best, and now, to top it all off, a dull pain throbs in your tooth. You could just check. Worst case? You die. And if that happens—well, you won’t care anyway, will you?

As for the side effects? Manageable. Irrelevant in the grand scheme of the doctor-patient relationship. So yes—it seems you’ve very much done it.

The sun sets at some point while you debate with yourself—to drink or not to drink. When you finally do, all your hesitation, all your pain, the aches and nagging little pokes you hadn’t even realised were there—vanish. They melt into a feeling of softness and lightness, enveloping you in a warmth that feels almost like a gentle embrace.

Your fingers flex as if testing for any lingering pain, but there is none. Even the dull pressure behind your eyes from lack of sleep has dissolved. A laugh bubbles up, unbidden, and you press your palm over your mouth, giddy with disbelief. It worked. It actually worked.

Then, just as quickly, your thoughts snap to Viktor.

You scramble for your notes, knocking over an empty vial in your haste. Ink smears as you flip through your pages, but you hardly care. Grabbing one more vial—just in case—you cork it tight and shove it into your pocket. You need him to see this. Now.

Your heartbeat pounds as you rush out, barely remembering to lock the door behind you before taking off down the corridor. The lamps lining the halls have already been lit, casting flickering pools of gold onto the stone floor. You don’t stop to enjoy it.

Viktor’s dorm is far from your lab, but somehow the jog doesn’t get you tired. On the contrary, it feel great. You reach his door and rap your knuckles against the wood, shifting on the balls of your feet with barely contained excitement.

“Viktor! Open up—I’ve done it!”

The door swings open faster than you expect, and Viktor is already halfway through a hasty, "Shh!" before you shove the stack of notes into his chest. He stumbles back a step, catching them with one hand while bracing against the doorframe with the other. His hair is tousled, his vest unbuttoned—he must have been in the middle of something, though whatever it was is immediately forgotten as he frowns down at the crumpled pages.

"What—?" he starts, but you barely hear him.

With a triumphant little flourish, you hold up the test tube between you, the liquid inside gleaming under the candlelight. “I did it,” you whisper, grinning. “It works.”

Viktor’s gaze flickers from the vial to your face, eyes narrowing. "It? You mean—?"

“If this isn’t enough evidence—” you gesture to the notes he’s still sorting through, his confusion growing by the second—“I might have secretly tried it.”

His fingers still against the parchment. His head snaps up. “…You what?” Voice pitches embarrassingly, sharp with alarm. He glares at you as if he might physically shake the confession back into your mouth, but it’s too late.

You shift your weight between your feet, the initial rush of excitement dimming just a little under his scrutiny. “I tried it,” you admit again, slower this time, watching as his grip tightens around your notes. “And it works, Viktor. No pain, not even a little. I feel…” You hesitate, trying to find the right words, then settle on, “Light. Like I’m floating.”

“That is not reassuring,” he snaps, finally stepping back to let you inside. As soon as you cross the threshold, he shuts the door with a soft but urgent click and turns on you. “You—” He exhales, dragging a hand down his face, visibly forcing himself into something calmer. “You did not even hesitate?”

“I hesitated a lot,” you counter, but that does nothing to ease the storm in his eyes. He looks down at your notes again, scanning them, flipping through pages. His brow furrows deeper with every line.

The rustling of paper sounds unbearably loud in the silence, the only noise countering it the pounding of your own heart in your ears. He says nothing, eyes scanning the pages with intense focus. He’s not just skimming—he’s memorising, cataloguing every formula, every line of documentation. His lips part once, his expression shifting from concern to consideration.

Finally, he lifts his gaze, hopeful and searching. “And the side effects?”

“Very unlikely to make an appearance. Oh, hey!” Your sentence stutters to a halt as you catch Viktor tilting the vial at his lips—and swallowing. “Have you lost your mind?”

“You said it’s safe. I trust you.” He shrugs with a grin, then his eyes flutter shut. After a moment, a quiet, breathy laugh escapes him. “I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “It does work.” As if testing a theory, he exhales deeply, then sits on the sofa and stretches his legs out experimentally. “Please, continue.”

You blink, thrown off balance, but quickly shake it off. “Uh… very unlikely,” you repeat, resuming your pacing in front of him. “Whoever prescribes the medication would have to be attracted to their patient, and vice versa, for any additional effects to take place. And they would both have to ingest it. So, you see—”

Through your excited rambling, you don’t immediately notice Viktor clearing his throat uncomfortably. You frown briefly, a strange warmth blooming in your chest, but your mouth refuses to stop moving.

Viktor speaks your name softly, trying to halt your trot. Then, again. Then, once more—his voice lifting just a notch in urgency.

You finally pause, eyes locking onto his. “Chances are… very slim,” you finish the sentence, but your voice falters into something dangerously close to a whine.

Viktor stretches his legs out stiffly, his hips jerking once as his fingers clench into the fabric of his trousers. A flush creeps up his neck, blooming across the cheeks and he exhales sharply through his nose, shifting as if trying to find relief. His chest rises and falls fast, and when he swipes a hand over his face, his lips part, damp from where he must have licked them. Another small jolt runs through him, thighs pressing together, and his knuckles go white where they grip his knees.

But above all of this, he just looks… incredibly hot. And as if the sight alone isn’t enough to nearly undo you, he speaks.

“Aphrodisiac.” Comes a low mutter of disbelief. “Brilliant, really,” he chuckles weakly, though there’s little amusement in it—only breathlessness. Brilliant, how you connected the dots. So incredibly brilliant to tickle, as he advised you, the parts of the brain that entwine both—pain and pleasure.

“But, oh… f-fuck,” Viktor stutters, a sharp inhale cutting through his words as his body betrays him. His hand twitches towards his lap before he catches himself, fingers gripping his wrist in a desperate attempt to resist. A painful cramp of lust wrenches his stomach into a knot, his entire frame tensing. “You’ve missed a variable, I’m afraid—”

You stand frozen, staring at him, torn between bolting out the door and throwing yourself at his feet. But then the realisation crashes over you, scorching hot, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your pulse slams against your ribs, your skin suddenly feverish—damp forehead, shirt clinging to your back like a parasite.

“You…” your voice wavers as you step forward, heat curling low in your stomach. “It means—” Viktor swallows hard, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, pupils blown wide. “Oh, gods,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. “You like me,” the truth spills from your lips, the weight of it sending another sharp pang of want through you.

“Immensely,” he admits, voice strained, thighs pressing together as another tremor runs through him. His face is painted in apology, but his hands reach out for you.

You take another step, closing the space between you, and his breath stutters. “Since when?”

“Always, ah—” he gasps, struggling to keep control. His fingers tighten into fists against his knees again. “You?”

Your throat is dry. “Oh… s-same,” you choke out deciding the time for embarrassment is long gone.  

His head tips back, jaw clenched, a strangled sound slipping out as he exhales. “Gods.”

And it just fucking hurts not to touch him. The pain you had so recklessly rid yourself of is back with unnatural force—aching, unrelenting—and gods help you, if you don’t rut into his lap any minute now, you’re going to die miserably.

When you get close enough, his fingers brush yours pleadingly, and the touch feels like a punch to the gut. The mere ghost of his skin against yours bends you in half, has you leaning over him, gripping the backrest of the sofa for support.

“Can I?” he asks, his hand hovering under your skirt. The sweetness of it—this man, asking permission to touch you when you’re so clearly drenched, when you’re convinced he can see the slick dripping down your thigh—makes you want to weep.

You nod desperately, breathing out a tearful, “Please.”

Viktor immediately comes to your aid, his palm swiping up the dampness on your leg before pressing flat against your cunt. The sound it makes—slick and obscene—has him gasping. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispers, bewildered.

His neglected cock aches, trapped painfully in his trousers. With the hand not already between your thighs, he fumbles with his belt, freeing himself—but to no avail. His left palm is even clumsier than the right, which now falters, frozen between your legs, his drunk mind unable to do more than one thing at a time.

Desperate for friction, you grab his wrist and rut against his palm, spreading slick all over his fingers. Viktor whines, overwhelmed by both having you and not having you where he needs you most. Then, with a sudden motion that makes you gasp, he moves your knickers aside, hooks two fingers into your cunt, and pulls you down onto his lap.

The moment you're there, you begin to slide your pussy up and down his cock, and Viktor moans—a filthy, slutty sound that has you threading your fingers through his hair, tugging his head to face you.

He looks so gorgeous you could eat him and clean your teeth with his bones. Possessed by greed, you sink your tongue into his mouth and nearly stop grinding from the sheer feeling of it. His hands—gentle, reverent—cup your cheeks, soft lips nipping at yours, his eyelashes tickle your skin when his eyes flutter shut in relief.

It had never crossed your mind to just kiss him. And oh, you’ve missed out on so much.

Because Viktor kisses like he’s been wanting you for the longest time—slow and deep, breathing in through his nose as he presses his face into yours. Close, so close you could melt into him, dissolve into liquid and flow down his throat, straight to his heart. His scent floods you, sweet on your senses and unmistakably him, nothing in particular yet everything at once.

Your hips move once more, but he doesn’t let you go. He groans into your mouth, biting down a moan when your pussy lips hug the underside of his cock, teasing the spot just beneath the head. You stay there, rubbing your clit in short, frantic movements, the sinful sounds falling between you, making you ache for more.

Desperation floods your veins, your slick coating every inch of him as you grind into the ridges of his groin, each drag of your clit sending ecstatic warmth down each of your limbs. Viktor is no better—his breath comes in ragged pants. He grips your hips unsteadily, trying and failing to guide you into something slower that he could endure.

“F-fuck… you are—” His voice trembles, his forehead falling against yours as if the weight of his pleasure is crushing. “So wet. You feel so—so good.”

You can barely reply, too lost in the heat of him, the feeling of his length dragging through your folds, the head catching just right where you swell, the sensation buzzing, building up. Still, you manage a breathy, “Your cock feels amazing,” and the whimper Viktor lets out is nothing short of wrecked.

His hands slip up your back, holding you close, his lips brushing yours as he mutters sweet, broken things—bits of words and phrases in his native tongue. You don’t understand them all, but the way he speaks them, ardent and needy, has your stomach tightening, your whole body scorched.

“Viktor, I’m—”

“I know. Please, cum. For me,” he pleads, his hands gripping you tighter as you begin to lose your rhythm. It’s there, you can already feel it creeping up your spine, twisting and prickling your skin where Viktor touches you, coaxing it out.

The heat in your belly snaps, and you cry out, trembling in his arms as your release gushes over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, pooling where your bodies meet. The wetness, the sheer warmth of you, sends him over the edge in turn.

Viktor shudders beneath you, his voice breaking on a guttural groan as his cock twitches and spills, ropes of hot cum streaking over his stomach, mixing with your slick into a sticky, messy heat between you.

Your mouth falls back to his, kissing away the sweat from his lips, your pelvis still rocking gently through the aftershocks—the slide so easy now that you feel like a whore doing it. Viktor hums when you pull his damp hair away from his forehead, his breath slowing down when he exhales a breathless chuckle. "You will kill me," he murmurs, voice hoarse and fucked-out.

"No," you whisper, nuzzling into his cheek, your body still moving against him, slow and unhurried. Like a cat rubbing against its keeper, needy and content all at once. "No, I would never. I need you."

Viktor groans softly at that, his hands tracing your sweat-slicked back before settling at your waist. "What do you need from me, sweet girl?" His voice is low, the tone suggesting that anything you ask for, he will give you.

"Please, fuck me," you breathe, pressing closer, your lips brushing against his jaw. "I feel so empty." Only now you begin to undo the buttons of your shirt and Viktor does the same, pressing your damp stomachs together. He inhales your scent from the crook of your shoulder and hums, eyes rolling back in his skull as if the words physically unravel him. His grip on you tightens briefly before he smacks your hips with both hands and says, “Get up. Please.”

Your legs nearly betray you, thighs shaking and knees weak as you try to rise from his lap, only to almost collapse back at the sight of the webs of your shared release stretching between you. It makes a sticky sound, gross and hot, and to your relief, Viktor must find it hot too—because he’s nearly fully hard again.

You don’t know if it’s the medicine or something else. You feel different now, though it definitely still holds, since Viktor gets up with ease, turns you to face the couch, and presses his fingers to the back of your neck, squeezing gently before bending you over. “Ass up, head down,” he says, a renewed lewdness in his tone.

You turn your head, catching him in the corner of your eye, and at the flicker of concern on your face, he smooths a hand along your spine and murmurs, “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.” He peels the sweat-dampened shirt from your back, and you smile at your shared state of half-undress—the way no time is wasted getting fully bare, the discomfort of parting greater than the inconvenience of underwear pushed aside clumsily and trousers still pooled around his knees.

Only you know how many times you’ve pictured this exact scene. But your mind never drifted far enough to conjure exactly how wet and scorching everything would be, how your thighs would quiver in anticipation. The cushioned seat dips next to your knee as Viktor sinks down beside you, close enough that your legs touch. His cock hovers below your pussy, his hands undo your bra, then settle where your hips crease.

He rocks back and forth and tsks when you shift needily. “So impatient,” he hums, sickly sweet in your ear. “But I suppose I have your lack of restraint to thank for being here in the first place.”

A clever retort sits at the tip of your tongue, only to be punched back down when Viktor slides inside you with one smooth thrust, hitting deep. He groans, wide and loud, fingers digging into your flesh—but you don’t see his face. You barely see anything through the tears pricking your eyes, forcing you to squeeze your lids shut. Your nails bite into the couch, and your back arches to meet him, presenting your ass just as he asked.

Still tight from your last climax, you hug all of him snugly, yelping when his balls slap against your soaked lips. It’s slow, almost teasing—the way he stretches you out. He’s too busy gaping at his cock, appearing and disappearing inside you, to hear your little mewls of incoherent begging, the word please tumbling from your lips over and over with no meaning beyond desperation.

Finally, you’ve entered the realm of things he can touch. And it’s dishonourable, the way it happened—but he doesn’t care. The ability to touch you, to fuck you, quickly erases all shame as he slams into you, hard and measured, knocking moans and ragged pants from your throat. It feels better than anything he’s ever felt.

He fucks you hard and rough. Each thrust is forceful, precise, driving deep until the sound of bodies slapping against each other is all you can hear. When enough pressure builds, and he feels your walls tightening, clenching closer and closer around his cock, he fists a hand in your hair and yanks you up. A sharp cry spills from your lips, your belly presses out, and you have to brace a hand against the couch's backrest. His arm comes around your shoulders, holding your back flush against his chest. The other hand—the death of you—slides between your legs, fingers pressing ruthlessly against your clit.

No restraint, no kindness—no nice boy left in him. His teeth graze your ear before sinking into the straining flesh of your neck, his voice a ragged whisper against your skin. “Take it. Where do you want it?”

Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open as you breathe out a tired, “Inside. Please.” He bottoms out and wrenches it from you—an orgasm so violent it has you screaming silently into the ceiling of his dorm room. It’s devastating, ripping away all muscle control as your cunt seizes tight around him, milking him without mercy. Your hands tremble, knuckles whiten as you struggle to hold yourself up, trying not to slump face-first into a pillow.

It’s all too much for Viktor. He falters, his hand slipping from between your thighs. He whispers your name distantly, voice raw, and ruts upward—once, twice—before spilling inside you. Hot cum floods every crevice, thick and unrelenting, leaking out even before he pulls free.

Everything melts into one—your shared breaths, the wet warmth between you, the sluggish rhythm of your heartbeats syncing. Viktor sits back on his heels and wraps his arms around you, nosing into your neck. Leaves soft, loving pecks there, trailing from your collarbone to your temple.

“You really didn’t know?” he asks quietly, his thumb stroking your lip.

You swallow against the dryness in your throat and chuckle. “Oh, gods, no. I’d like to think I have more decency than to drug you into this.” Your face tucks into his throat as you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have never been more pleased about someone missing a variable,” he mutters, and he’s back—himself again. His hands are gentle as they cup your cheek, swiping away your worry. His lips are sweet on yours, licking the salt from your skin. What this little mistake has just opened up for you—you have no idea. But you can’t wait to find out.