#flush cache

[firedjinni]

Cache Flush Failure (12133 words) by Rubber Chicken With A Keyboard Chapters: 7/13 Fandom: Rain World (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Five Pebbles & Original Ancient Character(s) (Rain World), Five Pebbles & Looks to the Moon (Rain World) Characters: Five Pebbles (Rain World), Looks to the Moon (Rain World), Original Ancient Character(s), Unparalleled Innocence (Rain World), No Significant Harassment (Rain World), Chasing Wind | Grey Wind (Rain World) Additional Tags: Time Travel, Not A Fix-It, Whump, Epistolary, POV Second Person, (but only a little) - Freeform, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Medical Procedures that are also Extensive Debugging Sessions, (or vice versa?), Amnesia, memory manipulation, Body Horror, References to Saint's campaign, Five Pebbles is not having a good time in this one Summary:

>LOG: FP — General Diagnostic Scan (Output) Another overly technical document you don't care to read. Aside from the unexplained crash, nothing seems to be seriously wrong. >LOG: FP — Malware Scan (Output) This one ends with: SYSTEM STATUS: UNCLEAR. 3836 FILE(S) OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN DETECTED. 1904 POTENTIALLY CORRUPTED FILE(S) DETECTED. NO MALWARE DETECTED. NO SYSTEM MALFUNCTION DETECTED.

-

slightly shorter chapter this week, but the shenanigans continue. this is the last we'll be seeing of this pebbles for a little while...

[tropiyas]

I did the thing where you said someone's joke after them except louder but it was by ACCIDENT I literally did not register until it was too late

[lucabyte]

making an actual addition instead of hiding it in the notes in case this helps someone, but...!

One of my solutions (... when I'm sapient enough to remember it) is to-- right that second-- write down every Task I am currently holding in my brain, both long term and short term.

From things as small as "I want to play this video game later" and "Shower today", as nebulous as listing every creative project I'm currenty in the middle of, and as big as "Apply for a loan on a government website". Just put them all down on a postit note, or a notebook page.

Leave no stone unturned. List even simple and "easy to remember" things, since sometimes those are exactly what your brain is freaking out trying to keep straight.

Then, optionally, sort them into 'soon', 'later' and 'whenever' priority. Not a to-do list, just so it's three small lists of thoughts instead of one big one.

So many of my bad moods come from my brain running out of hands to "hold" all of my thoughts, because I'm anxious I'll forget one and be unable to remember it until it's too late. So just knowing there's physical evidence of my thoughts basically lets my brain drop all but the really immediate ones. And you'll be amazed how much stimuli overload is internal sometimes.

(Also, I keep the note in extremely direct view of my workspace at all times. So I don't forget where I put it.)

Spicy-brained friends, I would like to propose an update to the very useful ‘if you hate everyone, eat, if everyone hates you, sleep, and if you hate yourself, shower’ mantra to live by

Have you suddenly become a petty, hateful little gremlin who thinks people should face the firing squad for (checks notes) leaving teabags on the counter, breathing loudly, or daring to exist in the same space as you? Perhaps mundane and reasonable requests like ‘hey, we agreed to hang out now, let���s hang out’ make you want to scream and move to a yurt in the woods.

You. Are. Overstimulated.

People talk a lot about being overstimulated, and the physical/mental effects of it. What I haven’t seen is people talking about what it does emotionally, and it took me an embarassingly long time to link up those nitpicky, resentful emotions with the state of overstimulation/meltdown/shutdown.

These feelings do not mean that you’re a bad person! They probably aren’t how you actually feel about the people around you. They probably do mean that your nervous system is at its absolute limit and any request/demand/stimulus is Too Much and taking you into fight or flight territory.

Go lie down in a dark room for an hour, or find somewhere safe and familiar to stim for a bit. If it’s happening a lot, schedule yourself regular low-stimulation shutdown time

Signed: someone who moved in with their nearest and dearest only to have a massive crisis of faith about Suddenly Hating All of Them. I don’t hate them, it’s just overstimulating living with people. If I can spare anyone else a similar 9 months of suspecting that they may actually be a bit of a shit person, then this post is worth it!

[oragetech123]

How Chrome DNS Cache Interacts with VPN and Proxy Settings

If you ever have used VPN or proxy service while surfing the internet, you may have noticed sometimes that the websites still load up from their original locations or somehow redirect unexpectedly. The reason behind this could be lurking in the browser's DNS cache. Specifically, in Google Chrome, the Chrome Net Internals DNS tool provides a unique window into how cached DNS data works — especially when paired with VPNs and proxy servers.

Let's deconstruct it all here in this tutorial, delving into how DNS caching operates, how it gets along with VPNs/proxies, and how to properly control it using Chrome Net Internals DNS in 2025.

What Is DNS Caching in Chrome? DNS (Domain Name System) works like the internet phonebook — converting domain names (such as example.com) into IP addresses your computer can use. To preserve time, your browser caches these lookups temporarily in what's a DNS cache.

In Google Chrome, the browsing cache can be tracked and controlled via the Chrome Net Internals DNS page. Using this tool will allow you to list the DNS entries in the cache, track DNS history, and eventually flush the DNS cache when necessary.

What happens when you use a VPN or proxy? A VPN or a proxy server redirects your internet traffic to another server, hiding your original IP address and location. Still, even with the traffic stream redirected through a VPN or proxy, your browser could use an old DNS cache, so websites might resolve to the old IP instead of the new route, and region-locked content might not come in.

Some websites may load slowly or incorrectly.

This is where the Chrome Net Internals DNS tool becomes critical. It helps clear out outdated DNS entries that are no longer valid when you're switching between VPNs, proxy servers, or even networks.

Why DNS Cache and VPN/Proxy Settings Can Clash Here’s why the combination of DNS caching and VPN/proxy settings can be problematic:

Cached IPs Don't Match VPN Routing When you go to a site without booting up a VPN, Chrome stores its DNS record on your local network. But when you enable a VPN, the path is altered — and the DNS entry may no longer be valid. This inconsistency can lead to problems or forward you to the wrong versions of the site.

Proxy Servers May Not Force a Fresh DNS Lookup Not all proxies override local DNS lookups. That means Chrome may still use its old cache unless you go into the Chrome Net Internals DNS interface and manually clear it.

Privacy Leaks A stale DNS cache may leak your actual location or ISP to websites even when you seem to be using a VPN. This defeats one of the main reasons for privacy-focused browsing.

How to Clear DNS Cache with Chrome Net Internals DNS (2025) To ensure your VPN or proxy works properly with Chrome, it’s a good idea to clear the DNS cache. Here’s how you do it using the Chrome Net Internals DNS tool:

✅ Step-by-Step Guide: Open Google Chrome.

In the address bar, type: chrome://net-internals/#dns Press Enter.

You’ll land on the Chrome Net Internals DNS dashboard.

Click the “Clear host cache” button.

Boom! Chrome now clears your DNS cache. Any time you go to a website from now on, Chrome is going to automatically resolve the domain name via your VPN or proxy, rather than your previous network configuration:

Optional: Flush Sockets for Even More Clean-Up Sometimes, active connections might still be using outdated network data. To flush even deeper: chrome://net-internals/#sockets Click "Flush socket pools." This fully cleans your network connections and re-establishes all of them through your current VPN or proxy route.

Best Practices When Using VPN or Proxy with Chrome To prevent problems, the following are a couple of best practices:

Always clear the DNS cache using Chrome Net Internals DNS when going online or offline with a VPN.

Reboot your browser to terminate any long-lived connections that won't reset automatically.

Use safe DNS settings (such as Cloudflare or Google DNS) if you're not depending on the DNS provider of your VPN.

Try setting Chrome to always use secure DNS over HTTPS (in Chrome settings).

Real-World Use Case Let's say you're a digital marketer and are trying to see how your site looks in various locations. You use a VPN to pretend you're from various places — but no matter how often you switch, the page loads the same. That's likely because Chrome is using cached DNS information.

By purging your DNS cache with Chrome Net Internals DNS, you guarantee your browser fetches new DNS data that corresponds with your new VPN location. It's a little thing that can save you a lot of heartache.

Final Thoughts Browsing the web securely and quickly in 2025 is more crucial than ever before. Though VPNs and proxies keep your privacy intact and allow access to geographically restricted content, they sometimes don't get along well with your browser's DNS cache.

Thankfully, Chrome Net Internals DNS gives you control over such matters. Flushing the DNS cache every time you switch networks or VPN routes will ensure you always browse in accuracy, in privacy, and in severance.

Next time you feel things "just" aren't "quite" right about using a VPN in Chrome, just recall: open up Chrome Net Internals DNS, hit that "Clear host cache" button, and you're good to go.

[thinkwithorage]

Resolve Slow Browsing with Chrome-Net-Internals-DNS: Here’s How (2025)

Why Your Internet Might Be Sluggish

Is it taking an eternity to load a website or it's not opening at all? Before blaming your internet connection, consider clearing your DNS cache using a little-known hidden tool that Chrome has called chrome-net-internals-dns.

This is one of the easiest ways to speed up your browser and eliminate irritating connection failures—without downloading additional software.

Browsing Issues in 2025 Are More Common Than You Think

As of 2025, issues around browsing a website are more common than ever because the browser you may be using could have a stale or corrupted DNS entry cached.

Don't be surprised! DNS is designed to simplify your surfing behavior, but sometimes things get confusing, and the browser is simply protecting you from clicking something crazy.

What is Chrome-Net-Internals-DNS and How It Works

In Google Chrome, you can check, manage and flush your DNS cache using the built-in tool located at chrome://net-internals/#dns.

This guide will cover everything you need to know about chrome-net-internals-dns, including:

What it is

How it works

Step-by-step instructions for both desktop and mobile

We’ve also included how to clear socket pools to fix recurring issues related to unstable connections or failed loading.

Advanced Methods Beyond Chrome-Net-Internals-DNS

If you tried clearing the cache but still have no relief, do not worry. We provide advanced methods for:

Flushing DNS on Windows, macOS, and Linux

Resetting Chrome flags

Changing your DNS provider to Google DNS or Cloudflare DNS

Troubleshooting Common DNS Problems

Also included is a list of general DNS problems and how to troubleshoot them effectively.

Whether you’re a casual user or a tech-savvy browser, learning to use chrome-net-internals-dns can greatly enhance your browsing experience.

Take Full Control of Chrome’s DNS Settings

Don't accept a slow internet or broken sites without discovering how to optimize Chrome like a pro!

Read the full guide now and take control of your DNS settings today using chrome-net-internals-dns!

[brynvivix]

hey I'm sorry I stopped in the middle of that sentence my brain decided to flush its cache and I totally forgot what this conversation was

[ice-creamforbreakfast]

::Download my part:: (Patreon - Free) ::Download @moontaart's part:: (Patreon - Free)*

Everyone knows the girl from Flushing; the nanny and fashion icon that blew into the Sheffield family's life (and our livingrooms) on that fateful day in 1993 and kept everyone on their toes with her antics, distinctive voice, and vast wardrobe.

Moontaart and I decided to recreate some of her most iconic looks from the hit series so both you and your sims can relive the nostalgia and absolute fashion high that was The Nanny!

For the true nineties experience, we have a catalogue for you (not a real one I'm afraid!) to browse the various looks available in this collection.

More details after the cut:

Farrah(l) wears: Cheap and Chic Dress and Accessory Top, Vivienne Heels (plain), Yetta Nails (Moontaart), and Sylvia Tights Milla(r) Wears: Cache Dress, Vivienne Heels (glitter),Yetta Nails, and Sylvia Tights

Cheap and Chic Dress & Accessory Top(45 swatches, 4464 polys) - What says style and flair more than a keyboard dress? In anyone else's wardrobe, this would be a novelty; in Fran's, it's a staple! Comes with an accessory top (index finger left).

Nadine Dress (50 swatches, 4302 polys) - How does your hair look? No one cares when you're wearing this showstopper in Fran's favourite colour: leopard (as well as forty nine others)!

Cache Dress (45 swatches, 4764 polys) - Want to stay warm for winter, but still want to show a bit of skin? Who cares if your shoulders get a touch of frostbite!

Anissa wears: Nadine Dress, Yetta Nails (Moontaart)

Fran Turtleneck - Regular (50 swatches, 3264 polys) - Fran's wardrobe has turtlenecks in every colour and pattern! We have turtlenecks in fifty. Also available as an accessory top (index finger left).

Fran Turtleneck - Cropped (50 swatches, 3308 polys) - Showing skin in the winter? This cropped turtleneck will keep you warm...kind of.

Gabriella wears: Fruit Salad Jacket, Barbara Skirt (Plain, low waistband), Yetta Nails (Moontaart)

Fruit Salad Jacket (4 Swatches, 5626 polys) - This jacket truly is a feast for the eyes! Inspired by the Moschino original, this truly is a statement piece.

Flair Tee (50 swatches, 3252 polys) - showing skin in the summer? This cropped t-shirt won't keep you warm at all.

Barbara Skirts (45 glitter swatches, 50 regular swatches, 1152 polys high waistband, 1174 lower waistband) - Fran loves a miniskirt, even if she claims to have never worn short dresses since childhood. These skirts will really show off your legs...and perhaps your liver.

Esther (L) wears: Fran turtleneck, Barbara Skirt (metallic), Sylvia Tights Yasmeen(R) wears: Fran cropped turtleneck, Barbara Skirt (plain), Sylvia Tights

Maggie Jeans (54 swatches, 1120 polys) - Elevate your casual outfit in these lacey slim-fit jeans!

Izumi wears: Flair crop top, Maggie Jeans, Vivienne Heels (plain)

Vivienne Heels - Plain and Glitter Versions (45 swatches, 786 polys) - A carry-over from last month's Juno Collection, but we think Fran would approve! These are available in smooth leather and glitter finish.

Sylvia Tights (45 swatches) - Fran's signature opaque tights. Although she prefers black, the other forty four colours are nice too!

✨Be sure to check out Moontaart's part of the collab linked above✨ *Evan has said that he might be fashionably late (we think Fran would approve) but this post is scheduled because I'm off to an important benefit with Mr. Sheffield. Not really...I'm off out for a succulent Chinese meal but it sounds good right?

[saphig-iawn]

Repro

Her third monitor flashed with an alert, a new support ticket had been submitted.

In most positions where support tickets are involved, there would be a groan that would accompany this kind of interruption to one's day. One's mind would fill with the usual rigmarole of the same tired remedies that are often the solution: "Is your VPN turned on?", "have you cleared the cache?", "have you checked the cables?", "is it in your junk folder?", "have you turned it off and on again?".

But her role was different.

Such a ticket didn't send her slouching into her chair. It didn't send her to taking another sip of her energy drink. It gave her a massive grin with excited eyes. She stood up and squeezed out of the nook she had built herself in her office. Padding barefoot to the bedroom she swung open her wardrobe. What mood am I in today... she pondered, as she danced her fingers across the different outfits hanging all in a line. She ran her finger down a latex dress. She felt her cheeks flush. It was a simple number, a tulip skirt with slight height to the shoulders. She loved how it felt on her, how it elevated her almost. Her smile weakened and her cheeks dulled when she saw the time. A lot of prep for a simple ticket, she lamented. But then her fingers found the shiny spandex, the black fabric shone in the warm light of the standing lamp.

The body suit hugged tightly. She honestly felt she might leave it on, it was so comfy. She made her way to her dressing table for a few simple adjustments and additions. The first was long plaited pony tail to tame her dark auburn hair. The next was her lips. A red would work well, but then... ah yes, there's my green, she thought, relieved. She painted her lips, paying deliberate attention to the shape of the lips she wanted to portray. Lips no one would be able to their eyes off of. Then the final addition: the face visor.

It was spotless and sleek. The dark reflective glass covered her face, save for her lips and jaw. She arranged her plait so it ran over her chest, accentuating the reflections of the spandex.

She did chuckle about her lack of footwear as she padded back to her 'office', but with the nature of the ticket she received, it wouldn't matter too much.

The user was reporting abnormalities in operation. Seemingly at random things would slow down, especially if a webpage had a lot of gifs. In bad cases, it would hang or freeze. The fix is incredibly simple.

She sat in her chair, adjusted herself, and connected with the user.

...

The chime of a connecting call perks you up. It was surprise more than anything that made you jolt a little. You didn't expect that the Admin would get to your ticket so quickly, but here she is.

You feel the guilt of taking up someone's time line your stomach. You try to convince yourself that its all fine, the option to contact Admin wouldn't be there otherwise, and that there wouldn't be someone on hand if it wasn't something you were supposed to-

The video call connects.

"Hello darling, what seems to be the problem?"

The guilt and anxiety melts. The messy scribbles of thoughts in your head untangle and calm. With an unprecedented clarity, you explain what has been happening.

"Thank you darling, that is incredibly helpful"

You glow and feel... is that blushing?

"Now, would you be a doll and see if you could reproduce things for me?"

You agree, cheeks burning a touch, and offer to share your screen so she could see, but she declines. The confusion surrounding her decision is forgotten a moment later.

You go to the site you usually go to when you want stimulation but either nothing is grabbing your attention or too many things are. You scroll and scroll and scroll, but everything seems fine. You furrow your brow, and explain to Admin.

"Ok, that's no problem darling, why don't you do everything you were doing when things slowed down last."

You close the site, and open up your work program, open up emails, and then you open the site again. It took only moments before everything began to slow.

...

She smiled.

It was a warm smile.

It spread her emerald lips effortlessly beneath the bottom of her visor.

This was the joy of a productivity program. Each one was tailored to each drone. Some wanted a firm carrot and stick approach, others preferred gamification of their work. This is one was unique.

Her visor hid the way her eyes drank in every moment of the drone slowing down. It starts in the neck first. Its like it has disengaged. The head sits lower. Then it spreads to the eyes. First they unfocus, seemingly staring through the screen, and then the eyelids begin to flutter and semi close. The second cutest part soon follows which is the bottom lip growing so heavy that mouth begins to hang open. The main cutest part is how the drone begins to mumble the mantra "Good drones stay on task.".

Her smile softened.

The fact that her drone came to her with a support ticket meant that the unique element of her productivity programming was kicking in.

That the drone had no idea it was a program. A program they had wanted.

This little ticket, was simply a sign it was working. This was why she'd get dressed up, why she'd relish in the moment. It meant she had a little time with her drone to tend to her. To run little checks. There was a bittersweetness to it, that the drone might never know how much care was being put into it, but right then, in that moment, Admin was happy.

She brought the drone's attention to her visor, and she pressed a little button on a controller that made two green lights flash. The drone's sentence truncated in the air. Its posture straightened out as all emotion tucked itself away in compressed folders.

It was time for maintenance.

Simple pleasures like mobility tests, having the drone stand and sit, position its arms and hands, its face and head. It was like playing with a doll, seeing how all the articulation worked. The drone, prior to its conversion and programming, even set out little phrases to use as vocal tests. Some were what you'd expect, following the norm of such a kink. Others were silly, fun, a little embarrassing. The kind of things that would have the drone blushing after being awoken and not quite knowing why.

More advanced tests were always fun to run through. Memory tests like forgetting simple things like numbers or letters and having the drone respond with outputs that would use the 'forgotten' data. Restricting use of specific faculties, like sealing its lips shut and having it attempt to speak, or locking its arms in place and have it attempt simple object manipulation.

She savoured every moment of this time that would soon be squirrelled away. Its address in the memory of the drone erased, waiting to be reassigned when it wanted it.

...

You blink rapidly, like you had woken from a quick but all encompassing daydream. You apologised to Admin, and asked her to repeat what she said.

"Oh that's ok darling, tech talk can be boring. It seemed it was another cache issue, too much bloat being stored and slowing things down. Should all be working normally now."

The urge to check was surpressed immediately without any concern.

You could feel the heat of your cheeks. You didn't know why but you felt so glad you got to chat with Admin for a brief spell.

You thank Admin for her time, even compliment her outfit, you always liked that kind of look.

...

Her smile lingered after the call had ended. She knew it wouldn't be long before her drone would return with issues again, but that was ok. It was a good drone, and she always loved to tend to her good drones.

This was released on my Patreon a week ago! If you want to support me and read these fictions early then head over to my Patreon (patreon.com/MissSaphi)

[firedjinni]

Cache Flush Failure (26467 words) by Rubber Chicken With A Keyboard Chapters: 13/13 Fandom: Rain World (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Five Pebbles & Original Ancient Character(s) (Rain World), Five Pebbles & Looks to the Moon (Rain World) Characters: Five Pebbles (Rain World), Looks to the Moon (Rain World), Original Ancient Character(s), Unparalleled Innocence (Rain World), No Significant Harassment (Rain World), Chasing Wind | Grey Wind (Rain World) Additional Tags: Time Travel, Not A Fix-It, Whump, Epistolary, POV Second Person, (but only a little) - Freeform, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Medical Procedures that are also Extensive Debugging Sessions, (or vice versa?), Amnesia, memory manipulation, Body Horror, References to Saint's campaign, Five Pebbles is not having a good time in this one, Time travel fuck-it-up

Summary:

>LOG: FP — General Diagnostic Scan (Output) Another overly technical document you don't care to read. Aside from the unexplained crash, nothing seems to be seriously wrong. >LOG: FP — Malware Scan (Output) This one ends with: SYSTEM STATUS: UNCLEAR. 3836 FILE(S) OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN DETECTED. 1904 POTENTIALLY CORRUPTED FILE(S) DETECTED. NO MALWARE DETECTED. NO SYSTEM MALFUNCTION DETECTED.

-

heyyy so... this fic is finally complete! :D

[taurasiluvr]

i need riding cc’s strap pleaseeeee

OOOOUUUUUU ABSOLUTELY LOVE

as soon as the door clicked shut behind you, she was on you, her lips capturing yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. "i need you, baby," she murmured against your lips, her hands already working to strip you of your clothes.

you felt a rush of heat at her words, your own arousal skyrocketing. "need you too," you replied breathlessly, helping her remove the last of your clothes before she sank to the bed.

she guided you onto the bed, positioning you in between her legs as she continued kissing you. she pulled you on top of her, and aligned the strap-on with your entrance as you sat on her lap. with one slow, deliberate thrust, you pushed inside, filling you completely. you gasped at the sensation, your body arching in response.

your hands grabbed on her shoulders for support as your head fell back at the sensation. "oh fuck, cait,"

your words were a breathless moan as you began to move, the sensation of caitlin filling you driving you wild. caitlin's hands were on your hips, guiding your movements as you rode her, the friction and fullness creating waves of pleasure that had you shivering with every thrust.

"that's it, baby," caitlin groaned, her voice rough with desire. "look so fucking beautiful like this, riding me like a slut."

you felt a flush of heat at her words, your pace quickening as you rocked your hips against her. the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies moving together, the wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin, and your breathless moans mingling with caitlin's low groans.

"cait, need more," you gasped, your hands gripping her shoulders tightly. "please, give me more."

caitlin's grip on your hips tightened, her thrusts becoming more forceful as she met your movements with her own. "that what you want?" she growled, her eyes dark with lust. "want me to fuck you harder?"

"oh yes," you cried out, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. "harder, cait, please."

she responded by increasing the intensity of her thrusts, driving into you with a power that had you seeing stars. cach movement sent jolts of pleasure through your body, building you up higher and higher.

"god, you're so perfect," caitlin panted, her hands sliding up to cup your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples. "love watching you like this, love how you take me."

your head fell back, a loud moan escaping your lips as you felt your climax approaching. "'m so close, cait," you gasped, your body trembling. "i'm gonna cum."

"cum for me, baby," she urged, her voice filled with raw need.

with a final, powerful thrust, you came hard, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. you cried out, your nails digging into caitlin's shoulders as you rode out your orgasm, every nerve ending alive with sensation. caitlin held you close, her own breathing ragged as she continued to thrust into you, prolonging your pleasure until you were utterly spent.

finally, she slowed, her movements becoming gentle as she helped you come down from your high. you collapsed against her, your body still trembling, and buried your face in the crook of her neck.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[dez78]

A night of passion

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

As requested by @ghoulspirits

Hope I captured the moment! Enjoy!

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

Fandom: Fallout 4

Pairings: Hancock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+)

Additional Tags: Smut with plot, romantic Hancock, Public sex, massage leads to sexy time.

Summary: You and Hancock finally find time to have a break and things get heated quick.

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

(Not my Gif)

You and Hancock headed into the Third Rail. The last few days have been hell, you have been retrieving caches and dead drops for the Railroad. You needed a break from the constant fighting, you yearned to just sit and have a beer.

"Hey Chuck, two beers." Hancock said as he leaned on the bar,

"Coming right up, mayor!" Charlie replied as he went over to the old, rusted out fridge.

You went to sit on the stool, but Hancock caught your wrist. You looked up at him with a perplexed expression on your weathered features.

"No, no, sweetheart. You and me got a reserved section in the VIP." Hancock said to you in a sensual tone. You quirked your eyebrow and smirked at him.

"Is that so?" You asked with a snarky tone and a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hm mhm." Hancock hummed in response, he grabbed the two beers and whisked you away to the shadows of the VIP lounge, tucked away from the prying eyes.

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

Upon entering, Hancock handed you one of the beers. You took it and popped it open with your pipboy. You plopped down on the old, worn couch. The springs protested under yours and Hancock's weight.

The ghoul flipped his feet up, resting them on the ottoman, taking a swig of his beer. You sipped your own, relaxing finally. Your muscles were tense.

You felt all the pressure in your joints as you rolled your shoulders with a low groan and a furrowed brow.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Hancock questioned, looking over at you.

"Just sore from all that damn fighting and walking." You whined, rolling your neck.

"Well, I ain't no expert, but I can try to help." Hancock offered, you didn't respond verbally, only nodding your head.

Hancock sat up, he put his beer on the floor. You unzipped your vault suit, revealing your skin to your partner. Hancock bit back the moan as he saw your skin for the thousandth time. It didn't matter how many times he saw you; you still stole his breath.

His rough hand trailed down your smooth back, unclasping your bra with only two fingers. You sighed a long breath as you felt the freedom. Hancock watched his fingers mapping your skin and the details of it.

Then he gripped your shoulders, you groaned low, throwing your head back.

His palms and thumbs massaged in the right places. You felt the popping of your joints and the release of your muscle tensity. You were lost in the sensation that Hancock's voice sounded yards away.

When you came to, Hancock was laughing.

"Now come on, sunshine. You keep making those noises, I'll have to cut this short." He said as he growled low, his breath on your neck. You bit your lip; your cheeks were flushed a bright pink.

"Would that be such a horrible thing?" You questioned innocently.

"I would certainly take you up on that offer." Hancock replied, still massaging your neck and shoulders. You turned then, catching Hancock's breath. He bit his lip as his coal eyes were fixed on yours.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." He said stunned, admiring every detail of your face in the dim light. You were surprised, the first thing he didn't look at were your breasts, instead he fawned over your face, your eyes, your lips.

You smiled to yourself; he had his charm, but sometimes he was about more than sex. Only for you. You weren't an object or a one-night stand that meant nothing. You were his equal, his partner, you were his and he was yours.

Hancock cupped your jaw, you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He hummed with contentment. He pulled you in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He ran his other hand up your body, feeling every inch of your stomach before finally cupping one of your breasts in his large hand.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, you moaned into his mouth and that was his invitation. He dipped his tongue into your mouth. You let him in with no hesitation, your lips danced with each other in a smooth rhythm.

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

It wasn't long before things got hot and heavy, Hancock had torn off your vault suit and his own clothes. He held you up by your waist as he laid on top of you, leaving a trail of love bites across your neck and breasts. His fingers were graceful as he smoothed up your back.

He drove powerful thrusts into you, you were glistening with beads of sweat and were a mess of sound. It was music to Hancock's ears.

"That's right, baby girl. Let them know who you belong to." He rasped through thrusts. You cried out, arching your back. Hancock kept you steadied as your body convulsed for the fourth time that night.

Hancock leaned down, kissing your jawline as he slowed to an even pace. Giving you time to recover. He kissed your neck tenderly as he pushed into you slowly.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Hancock purred into your ear; you nodded slowly enjoying the feeling of him filling you up with his immensity.

"You're such a good girl for taking it all." Hancock praised you, you shuddered with delight as his voice rumbled against your sensitive skin. He kissed your lips with a tenderness he only had for you.

You usually liked it the way he gave it, but sometimes you wanted slow, and he provided and proved to be an excellent lover in both times. It all depended on you. He respected your feelings. He never did anything you were against. He always made sure you were okay and if you liked what he was doing. If not, then he'd stop.

He was never rough unless you wanted it. You loved that about him, he gave you options and freedom with your love life.

"You ready, love? Or do you want this some more?" Hancock asked you, kissing your neck gently.

"I want it rough." You growled, Hancock got that mischievous glint in his eye and gave you a devilish grin.

He sat up.

"Spread your legs for me, baby." He commanded, you opened your legs for him, and he devoured you. You threw your head back, screaming in bliss. Your thighs quivered. He was hitting your sweet spot. Your hair was falling over your face, wet from sweat.

Beads trickled down the curve of your breast, your lips were swollen, your body glistened, and your eyes sparkled. You were beautiful. It sent Hancock over the edge. You arched your back, contracting around your lover. Your whole body shook.

"Fuck." Hancock breathed with a hoarse laugh. You laid there for a moment, catching your breath. Hancock smiled, drawing circles on your stomach.

"Enjoy, sweetheart?" He smirked; your eyes were half lidded as you looked at him.

"What do you think?" You quipped with a tired smile. Hancock didn't say anything, just gave you his own genuine smile. You loved how he wore it. It suited him. You were the only one to ever see his true smile. He faked it for others, but he put all his trust in you.

You felt lucky to know him, the true him. Not the show ghoul that he put on for everyone else. The facade. You grabbed his face and pulled him on top of you. He rolled his tongue at you,

"Round two already?" He teased; you shook your head.

"No, just kiss me." You told him, he looked a bit surprised, but didn't protest to the request. He leaned down. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his lips against yours.

The kiss was sweet, not heavy and hot like it was moments ago. This one was tender, gentle, and full of love. Hancock poured his all his feelings into his kisses. This time was no different.

The two of you pulled away for only, but a moment. In that time, your eyes met. You saw the sincerity in Hancock's expression.

"I love you, sunshine." He said, brushing strands of hair from your sticky forehead, you smiled up at him.

"I love you too, John." You replied lovingly. Hancock's smile was bright, he loved his name on your lips, it was a beautiful sound, even more beautiful than your moans, he admitted.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours again, savoring the kiss. Savoring the moment. It was perfect, you were perfect.

[milky-aeons]

— STRIP POKER

౨ৎ . . . in which you and general CHUUYA NAKAHARA celebrate the success of a recent mission over a bottle of wine. somehow, you decide to test each other's skills at a game of poker.

warnings: alcohol intake, criminal themes, sexual content, gambling, strip-tease, biting, pet-names, praising, mdni, w.c 2.6k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ omen — sam smith ꒱ ˎˊ-

𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑, as any seasoned master would tell you, was a game of bluff.

Strip-poker, however, was an entirely different playing field. It was a game of control.

The intimate hue of the lights down here in one of the many holds of the Port Mafia was a warm gold. It glinted against the cache of wine you both had raided in lieu of the recent events. A money heist, executed even smoother than the original draw-up had expected. So smooth, in fact, that both you and General Chuuya Nakahara had set the Port Mafia ahead of the game for months. Not only was Mori immensely pleased with your work, he had gone further to give you both a hefty bonus, too.

As well as permission to take your fill of the fine stock of red wine waiting to be illegally exported in the basement of the organisation.

"Call." Chuuya's voice filled the small, humid room. His clear blue eyes flicked up to you from behind his two cards — and you felt them, the sheer weight of them, all along your exposed skin.

He was winning. You never knew how good the General was at poker, because what reason did a mafioso mainly working out in the field have for such a game? It wasn't like you had stellar holding skills either, but you liked to believe you were good enough to call his bluff when he started gloating how badly he'd kick your ass at it.

"Oi, oi, you sure about this, princess? Don't go makin' statements you can't stand upon." "Please. I'm a mafia crook, Nakahara, I don't make statements I can't live up to." "Then why don't we have a game? I'm sure there's a dusty pack somewhere around here." Perhaps it was the liquid courage running through veins that sparked the idea in your mind. The expensive limited edition California Cabernet still sweet and cool on your lips. They tugged into a sly smile when you said, "Oh, I have a better idea."

You fidgeted a little under his unwavering stare — feeling the pebbling of your flesh across your shirtless collarbone. You chewed your lip, looking at the flop he'd dealt, then to your cards.

"Raise."

Chuuya's eyebrow cocked. "You're bluffin'."

The score in the present moment was tipped in his favour, but that was not to say you hadn't won a couple of rounds that had cost him his small brown jacket, his tight-fitting waistcoat and the black leather harness usually criss-crossed at his chest. He sat cross-legged before you in nothing but a loose white shirt and pants.

You, on the other hand, was suffering a bit more from your choice to wear less layers that morning.

Your satin blouse had been discarded after his victorious hand in the last round, leaving you sitting before the man in nothing but your lacey red bra and form-fitting pants. There was a rose flush against your chest as your breasts pebbled and strained a little, not used to being under the watchful eyes of a General who commanded swaths of terrifying mafiosos.

Keeping his eye-contact, you picked up your glass of wine and took a greedy sip. "Am I?" You hummed, batting your eyelashes innocently.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes at you, his sharp canines poking from between his lips. He leaned back and threw his hand down. "Full house."

Glee was a thousand racing sparks through your body when you mirrored him, slapping your cards onto the cobblestone. "Straight flush."

"Fuck!"

You grinned at his loss like a silly teenager, leaning so you could cradle your face in one of your hands. "Boo-hoo! Eat shit, Nakahara."

He looked absolutely adorable when he grumbled like that, you thought in a haze when he cursed another blue streak of profanities and began unbuttoning the upper half of his shirt. Unveiling a sliver of his ivory-white skin with each pop, his deft fingers working quickly. It was not warm down in the Port Mafia's storage bunkers, solely because it had been built into the stone and had no access to general plumbing or heat, but you couldn't help the lick of flame that cascaded down your back the longer you stared at him.

All power and lean muscle, littered with little scars that echoed to the place he must have come from, your mouth went a little dry when he undid the last button and began shrugging the shirt off. His shoulder muscles flexed when he pulled the sleeves off, throwing it behind him somewhere. You were suddenly hyper-aware of every breath, every movement you made when he turned back to look at you.

He scowled. "What?"

"Hm?"

"You're staring."

Regrouping your composure, you covered it up with a taunting expression. "Just revelling in your embarrassing loss."

"Shut up and deal, princess."

"Sore loser."

A handful of rounds later and you had Chuuya stripped down to only his boxer briefs and gloves he always refused to take off — for obvious reasons. The latest article of clothing he had deigned to shed after you had thrown down a four-of-a-kind to his flush was the leather collar he always bracketed his neck with. You were not used to seeing the long column of his throat so exposed — it elicited deep, wild feelings in the pool of your stomach. Like how you wanted to drag your tongue from the base of his pectorals up to his mouth.

Stop—you're not going there.

Chuuya dug his hand into those wild red locks of his and ruffled it, annoyed. "There just ain't no way you've been this lucky so far. You've got to be fuckin' cheating, or somethin'."

You brought the deck before you to give it another shuffle. "One day, you'll live up to my greatness. But for now, I think it's safe to say that I'm the better player at poker."

"No way," He thrust his hand out so you would give him the deck. "We're playing one more round."

Your eyebrows raised at his boldness. He had no more pieces of clothing to give — save for his gloves, the man was practically naked if you disregarded his briefs. There was little objections on your part for another round as you still had your bra and your pants on, just as before, but him—

"Chuuya," You started, flickering your eyes down his bare body. It was a hard feat to try and hide how dry it made your mouth, the sheer beauty of him. "Seriously. You've got nothing left."

He cocked his head. "'Course I do. I've still got one more." And flicked his eyes pointedly to his briefs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. It occurred to you that he was a stubborn, competitive man, and that he definitely wasn't going down without a fight.

Swallowing, you unpasted your tongue from the roof of your mouth. Cleared your throat as your heart had lurched right up into it.

"If you say so." You said quietly. In a voice that had become lower, thicker. You handed the deck over to him and watched him deal.

You felt your stomach bottom out at the two cards that looked at you with their glossy surface when you checked them. Two aces. His long fingers burned the first card and dealt three, showing you the black and white faces of an ace, a king, and a three of hearts.

The river card; another ace. The remaining one of the deck.

Fuck.

"What's your call, princess?" Chuuya murmured, not looking at his cards when you glanced his way.

The dim lights that illuminated your space flickered, just like your pulse, at the type of stare he was pinning you to the spot with. Like he knew exactly what cards you held, but instead of getting angry like you expected him to that you had stole another round of victory from him, he was expectant. Leaning forward a little, the girth of him evident and so inviting in those boxer briefs.

Your mind went a little foggy. You nibbled your lip again, your body going warm.

"Can I fold?" You whispered with the slightest tremour of tease.

He smirked, then threw his cards down — a king, a five of spades. You had the winning hand. Chuuya then leaned back, placing both hands behind him so his chest appeared broader, his eyes looked up at you, and he said, "If ya want. We can call it quits."

This was madness. The way the room was now so stifling it was almost hard to breathe — the open invitation he was giving you, the sudden, fire-crackling electricity igniting the air between you both. You hesitated with your deck, wondering if this would be a mistake. If you'd both wake up in the morning with a headache and the sick feeling of what the hell had you just done?

There was a quiet slap when you revealed your two ace cards; four of a kind, decimating his own.

You didn't care.

"I win." You whispered, letting the sound trail off. Expectant and pregnant.

And, by the looks of it, neither did he.

Chuuya's keen eyes flashed. He lifted his hand, but not to push down the last article of his clothing. Instead, he crooked a quick finger to you. "C'mere."

You almost melted into a heap on that floor amidst the cards and the wine. But you complied. You pitched forward so to go on all fours, your breasts exposed and swaying when you took calculated, predatory crawling steps over to him.

"Do you need some help there, General?" You teased him.

He snarled a little at the title you used to coo at him. Prideful bastard. He shifted his long legs so as you could see the large, hard shape of him through the boxer briefs. He reached out to catch your chin in his leather-gloved hand, tilting your head up so as to look at him.

He looked like he was just about ready to devour you.

"Come collect your prize, pretty girl."

It was about all the instruction you needed — shaking off your hesitancy and replacing it with a burning, chaotic desire.

You had leaned up to your full height and reached back, unclasping the bra that had been chaffing your agonisingly sensitive breasts. You pulled it loose and let it fall, exposing to the General and his eyes that burned a wicked blue flame.

He reached for you — bringing you close, close enough to collide your two bodies and latch a hungry mouth around your nipple. The other, he kneaded with his free hand, pinching and grounding against it so hard it was almost painful. But a pleasurable type of pain — the type that made you throw your head back and groan. His mouth was hot and wild, and his teeth, they nipped and suckled and made all thoughts eddy out of your fuzzy mind.

"Fuck—ah—!" You moaned, rocking your chest into his face, coming to clutch the back of his hair. Chuuya was ravenous. He had curled his fingers into the waistband of your pants and ripped. Throwing the ruined material to the side and pushing you down. Letting your damp underwear grind up against him, creating friction against his cock that strained underneath you.

He cursed. He pulled away, looking down where you two grinded together, effortlessly rolling his hips up to you and meeting halfway. "Shit, you're incredible." He growled out, and reached down to replace the friction of his cock with two fingers. He traced the seam of your underwear, murmuring, who's a good girl? Who's so wet and needy for me, hm? Such a sly little thing, trying to strip me bare.

"Chuuya—" You were bucking into his hand. "I need you, fuck, I need you." You needed him inside you now, right now.

Of course, he wasn't going to give it to you right away. "You need what, princess?" He moaned, teasing you, killing you. He was pressing the pad of his thumb against your apex and drawing slow, tantalising circles. "C'mon, use your words."

You gripped his face and crashed your lips on top of his — and he groaned. Deep and rumbling from the back of his throat, gripping you tightly to him by clasping his fingers hard into your ass.

"I need," You snarled through the kiss, the bites, the tongue tasting you. "I need you — I need you to fuck me."

Chuuya chuckled a sound so intimate you could almost feel it vibrating down to your pulsing core. "Atta girl." He praised, and you could feel him parting your underwear to the side and the press of a hot, leaking cock against your heat. He found your opening and slid inside — fast and quick, hot and unstoppable — just like he always was. "Atta fucking girl."

"Shit!" You cried in ecstasy as he pumped into you. Holding you against him on the floor as he rose up, down, up, down. Unbothered by the fact he was lifting your whole body weight with each thrust. He rocked his hips up, taking yours with two hands and pushing down, fucking into you roughly.

"You feel so fuckin'—" His teeth flashed, and then you watched his eyes swim, knocking his head back when he groaned. "Christ, princess, you feel amazing."

You dug your nails into his pectorals and matched his rhythm. Your breasts bouncing, mouth falling open and taking in short, gasping breaths every time he slammed back into you. There was something feverish in the way you two had come together — something wild. Like this unspoken strain had existed between you both until something finally gave it life. And when your pleasure crested, swelled, came to that tip of the apex, you handed it all over and fell. You screamed out his name, letting it bounce against the walls and the stones and the wine bottles left emptied. Until it mixed with his own when he came after, pumping into you slowly and tenderly to drag out your pleasures for as long as he could

requested by the lovely [ @ringsofsaturnnnn! ]

[andrewgarfieldlovr]

Title: Under pressure

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff / Maria Hill

Setting: Quinjet, high-altitude post-mission return

⸻

It starts with the sweat.

Hot and clinging beneath tactical suits, mixed with dried blood and the acrid memory of gunpowder. Maria’s back hits the cold metal of the Quinjet’s interior wall with a thud as she exhales, eyes flicking up to Natasha, who’s already peeled half her suit down to her waist.

The mission was clean—at least by their standards. No civilians lost. Minor flesh wounds. An arms cache vaporized. And yet the air between them now is far from calm. It crackles, electric and volatile, like the aftershock of a fight neither of them want to admit they’ve been having for months without words.

Maria lets her head loll against the wall, watching Natasha twist her red hair up off her neck, revealing a line of skin slicked with sweat and streaked with soot. “You always strip like we’re at a spa,” she says dryly.

Natasha’s smirk is immediate, predatory. “What can I say? I’m comfortable with you.”

“Dangerous words,” Maria mutters.

“Are they?” Natasha walks slowly, each step deliberate, bare arms toned and gleaming under the low light. The Quinjet hums steadily beneath them, cutting through the sky. “You’ve been staring at my back for three hours, Hill. Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Maria exhales a laugh, low and short. “You think you’re that irresistible?”

“No.” Natasha leans in, her face inches from Maria’s now, voice quiet, warm. “I know I am.”

Maria’s response is reflexive, like pulling a trigger — a hand on Natasha’s hip, not pushing her away but anchoring her there. Her fingers flex against the fabric of Natasha’s suit.

“You really want to test me right now?”

Natasha tilts her head, their lips so close Maria can feel the heat of her breath. “Don’t you?”

⸻

There’s no gentleness to the first contact — just a sharp kiss, hungry, full of unspoken things. Teeth clack, and Maria’s gloved hand grips the back of Natasha’s neck as the other woman presses her body forward, pinning them both to the vibrating wall of the Quinjet.

Their bodies remember what their mouths have refused to say for years. Every mission, every close call, every wordless look across a burning room — it’s here, now, all teeth and fingers tugging zippers and armor with growing urgency.

Maria drags her lips down Natasha’s throat, nipping at the spot where pulse meets skin. “You’re insufferable.”

“You like it,” Natasha breathes, shivering under the contact, her hand already at the hem of Maria’s shirt, pushing it up, baring scarred, sweat-slick skin.

Their hands roam—searching, mapping, claiming. Maria tugs Natasha’s suit lower, revealing the curve of her shoulder, the line of her spine. She leans in, pressing her mouth there, tongue sliding along skin, making Natasha hiss between her teeth.

“Thought you were the professional,” Maria teases.

“I am,” Natasha mutters, biting down on the lobe of Maria’s ear, making her groan softly. “You’re just… distracting.”

⸻

The Quinjet shakes subtly with turbulence, but neither woman flinches. The vibrations only feed the building pressure.

Maria’s fingers find the waistband of Natasha’s suit, slipping just beneath, teasing the line of her hip. Natasha grabs her wrist, hard, eyes narrowed.

“Careful,” she says, but her voice is breathy, her pupils blown wide.

Maria smirks. “Or what?”

Natasha’s answer comes in the form of movement—quick, practiced. She spins Maria around, pressing her front-first into the wall with a heavy thud, her body flush against her from behind. Her mouth hovers by Maria’s ear.

“I’ll make you beg,” she whispers.

Maria laughs, low and breathless. “Big words, Romanoff.”

“Bigger than you can handle?”

Maria growls softly, twisting in Natasha’s grip until they’re facing each other again, hands fisting into the fabric at her waist. She pulls Natasha down into another kiss, deeper this time, tongues clashing, gasps mingling. The edge between them is razor-sharp — dominance traded back and forth like a loaded weapon.

Every touch is a challenge. Every breath, a dare.

They barely register the autopilot kicking in or the fact that they’re nearing friendly airspace. Time’s warped in this bubble of adrenaline and lust, where skin is bared in frantic tugs and fingers slide beneath tactical gear like secrets they’ve been dying to reveal.

It’s the silence after the storm that makes everything louder.

The only sound in the Quinjet is the low thrum of the engines and the sharp, erratic breathing of two operatives who should know better than to let down their guard—but right now, neither of them cares. Not when Natasha is straddling Maria on the bench, knees framing her thighs, weight centered, eyes dark with hunger. Not when Maria’s hands are roaming freely under Natasha’s half-unzipped suit, calloused fingers tracing every plane of hard muscle and flushed skin like she’s been waiting years for this exact moment.

Because she has.

“You’re soaked,” Maria murmurs against Natasha’s collarbone, dragging her mouth down across sweat-slicked skin. “How long were you planning to pretend you weren’t turned on?”

Natasha lets out a low, breathy chuckle. “Since Prague.” She rocks her hips slowly against Maria’s, deliberately, grinding down just enough to elicit a sharp inhale. “You remember that night. The safehouse. One bed.”

Maria’s hands tighten on her hips. “You mean the night you ‘accidentally’ kicked off all the blankets and kept moaning in your sleep?”

Natasha leans in, brushing her lips over Maria’s ear. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

The groan Maria lets out is deep, primal.

She shifts, using her strength to flip Natasha beneath her in one smooth, practiced motion. Their bodies are a tangle of limbs, gear, and sweat, and the Quinjet’s dim lighting does nothing to soften the hunger in their expressions. Maria braces one hand beside Natasha’s head and uses the other to drag her nails lightly down the other woman’s ribs, slow and purposeful. Natasha arches beneath the touch, lips parting in a soundless gasp.

Maria grins.

“Sensitive,” she says, voice velvet-soft and soaked in control.

“You’re not exactly unaffected yourself,” Natasha replies, glancing down between them. Her hand rises to tug Maria’s shirt up and over her head with a single practiced motion, exposing the long, lean line of her torso. She drags her fingers down the center, teasing just along the sternum. “God, Hill. You’re carved from steel.”

“Want to test your theory?”

Natasha’s hand dips lower, palming the firm plane of Maria’s stomach, before tracing along the edge of her waistband, fingers playing along the seam. “I’d rather break you open.”

There’s a flash in Maria’s eyes—feral, defiant—and then she’s back on Natasha’s mouth, devouring it. Their kiss is slick, deep, full of tongue and teeth and breathless gasps. Maria’s hand works lower, cupping Natasha through the tight tactical fabric still clinging to her thighs, her touch firm, teasing.

“You’re soaked too,” Maria murmurs darkly, dragging her teeth across Natasha’s jaw.

Natasha only groans in response, hips lifting into her touch.

She pushes up into a seated position, hands fumbling with Maria’s belt now, tugging it loose with military precision, then sliding her fingers underneath to grip her ass. Maria bites back a moan, grinding down hard, her thighs clenching around Natasha’s.

They move together with ferocity and rhythm, breath hitching, friction mounting. It’s all gasps and curses, hips meeting hips, mouths breaking and returning, their bodies writhing in sync as if they’d been choreographed for years. They’re panting into each other’s mouths, the Quinjet around them vibrating with more than just engine power.

Natasha grips the bench with one hand, the other tangled in Maria’s hair as she grinds harder, faster, seeking that friction, that edge. “God—Hill…”

Maria’s hand moves between them, pressing, rubbing—deft, practiced, relentless. Her fingers never falter. Natasha’s eyes flutter closed, head falling back, the tightness in her abdomen threatening to snap.

“Come on,” Maria whispers against her lips. “Let go. Let me feel you.”

Natasha shudders, curses violently in Russian, and then she’s coming hard, back arching, body jerking beneath Maria’s touch. Her grip in Maria’s hair tightens as her breath stutters and catches in her throat. She rides the wave out with slow, rolling thrusts, gasping into the crook of Maria’s neck.

Maria holds her there, hand still on her, fingers slick, a smirk growing on her flushed lips.

When Natasha finally slumps back with a heavy exhale, she opens her eyes lazily, glassy with afterglow.

“You’re dangerous,” she says hoarsely.

“You’ve got no idea,” Maria replies, voice still low, wicked. She leans in, brushing her lips over Natasha’s again. “But you’re about to find out.”

[itchytitss]

Wine tasting with Shadowheart

Early on in your relationship, Shadowheart had expressed her interest in going to a wine tasting with you, though you quickly found out about the lack of wineries near Baldur’s Gate.

Sure, you would often find half empty bottles of drinkable wine along the road in your adventures, but the only good wine worthy of drinking is found in very few expensive bars and the occasional brothel. If you were lucky, you could snag a bottle from the docks after a recent import, though they’re often kept under wraps to be sent to the nobles or churches.

You and Shadowheart have been collecting a variety of good wines you have found (stolen) around Baldur’s Gate most prestigious bars and have been hiding them in your camp for ages now, separating them from the average wines kept in the group cache. You wait for the perfect night to host your own private wine tasting.

When the night comes around, you and Shadowheart slip off into the woods after dinner. You lead her to a rocky cliff that overlooks the nearby beach. A perfect picturesque view of the sun starting to set beyond the horizon.

You lay down the picnic blanket and pillows as you carefully place down the bottles of wine and water. Shadowheart makes herself comfortable on the blanket as she looks over the cliff, sighing in content as she watches the sunset. You place down some cheese and biscuits because you can’t have a wine tasting without some proper snacks. Though you mostly ignore them and go straight for the wine.

You spend the night drinking, laughing and talking about everything you can think of. Your favourite topic is the one that is your travelling companions. As you get more tipsy, you gossip and bitch about your friends who are only just a few hundred meters away. You groan about how loudly Karlach snores. You chuckle at how Scratch stole one of Gales books and made him chase him for it. You express your shared hatred for the blood left lying around camp by Astarion after his meals.

Hours later, you laugh together as you sip on an abundance of wine under the silver light of the moon. At this point you’re both laying on your sides. Facing each other.

“I think… I think I’m drunk.” Shadowheart giggles as she reaches towards you, accidentally knocking over an empty bottle of wine.

You grab her hand in yours, giggling at her flushed face and tired eyes. “I told you we were only supposed to taste the wine. Not… Not drink ourselves to death.” You hiccup.

“Where’ss the fun in that?” She slurs. “What, we just waste all this wine and… and spit it off the cliff?” She waves her hand around drunkenly.

“Shit, we’re going to be sooo hungover tomorrow.” You giggle. “Tomorrow? Today? I don’t even know what time it is.” You mumble, causing Shadowheart to giggle along with you.

“Oh gods, Lae��zel is going to be so pissed when she finds out we stole… stole her biscuits.” Shadowheart laughs loudly, causing her to snort through her nose. You both chortle at the sound, quickly shushing each other when you realise how much noise you’re making. You place a finger on Shadowheart’s lips, silencing her with a shushing gesture on your own as you both fight to hold back your laughs.

Your giggles die down as she takes your hand again, holding it in the space between the two of you on the blanket. You stare into her eyes. Her gorgeous, tired green eyes that slow blink at you with love and affection. Her smile tugs at your heartstrings and it’s as if you can feel your teeth rotting from the sweetness of it all. You scan her face as you slowly tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

“I can’t believe you’re mine.” She whispers, shuffling closer to you. You press your foreheads together as she hums softly in satisfaction.

“It’s surreal.” You mumble, rubbing over the scar on her cheek with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful…” You breathe, entranced by her soothing aura.

“I know.” She smirks.

Your thumb traces over her soft lips before you lean in to lock your lips with hers. Your hand moves to cradle the back of her head as she smiles into the kiss, squeezing your hand. You kiss slowly, softly, tasting the mixture of wines on her tongue.

After a few lazy kisses. She moves to place small pecks up your nose to your forehead. You giggle as she slides her free hand up to cup your face.

“Can we stay a bit longer? I don’t… I don’t want to go back to camp yet.” She whispers.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask.

“Mm, a little. I’ve got you to warm me up though, don’t I?” She shuffles herself into your arms, tangling her legs with yours and burying her face into your neck.

“That you do.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around her as you pull the edge of the blanket over yourselves and close your eyes.