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#............ i'm normal about that i swear
3hobbitsinatrenchcoat · 11 months
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kermit-coded · 2 months
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thinking about how both kristen and buddy died so easily. how they were treated as disposable sacrifices by both their church and their god and their community. thinking about "helio wouldn't have let that happen" and thinking about kristen dying on the first day of school despite being the chosen one. thinking about how the religious conservatives are always the first to cry "think of the children!" and then being the ones to harm their children the most in the end.
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God, the intimacy of Astarion feeding from you.
Astarion drinking from your neck as he pulls your body closer to his in bed, his chest up against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist. It's a casual thing, now, his whispered can I? and your answering nod, as much a part of your bedtime routine as your bath or his curl care. You sigh as his fangs pierce your skin and his fingers flex against your stomach. His breath hitches when the taste of you hits his tongue, and that's familiar too, the physicality of it, the noises he makes low in his throat as he drinks, the way he grows warmer against you as your blood begins to flow through his veins. Nothing else makes you feel so heady, so intoxicated- so comforted.
Astarion drinking from your wrist when he’s starving for it and can’t wait to get you more comfortable. Pulling him into an alleyway one night on the way home from the Elfsong because you can see how badly he's craving in the way he can't keep his eyes off of the pulse point in your neck. He seizes your arm with both hands (can I? Yes-), bringing the soft skin on the inside of your wrist to his lips. He has just enough presence of mind to kiss the heel of your hand distractedly before he bites, fangs sliding through your skin and into the vein. The sound he makes can only be described as a growl, something feral and possessive (and you'll never tell him that it turns you on, since he would be insufferable about it- a promise to yourself that lasts exactly as long as the space between the moment and the next time you're tipsy and want him).
(NSFW Below!)
Astarion drinking from your inner thigh, one hand holding your leg steady and the other cupping your cunt. You groan, eyes shut in pleasure, as his thumb comes to rub your clit. The pain of the bite is barely pain this way- it collides with the pleasure in your belly and sends you almost out of your mind, overwhelmed with sensation and heat. He takes you all the way there, takes just enough from you to have you relaxed and pliant and soaring somewhere above your own body, plays you like an instrument with all the knowledge of you he's gathered over the months, the years. He knows when you're close, knows to crook his fingers inside you just so, knows the reaction he's going to get when he pulls away from your thigh for just a moment and looks up at you with dark eyes and tells you to come for him, he wants to see it, you fall apart so beautifully and it's all for him, isn't it, tell him how good he makes you feel and when you climax with his voice in your ear and the scent of blood on the air he has the audacity to laugh at how well he understands you, your body.
He's soft, after, softer than he'll ever be with anyone who isn't you. He licks you clean before he takes you to the bath, carrying you with the strength your lifeblood gives him. It's the least he can do for you, with everything you've given him: not just your body, but your trust, your closeness, and he will never stop being grateful.
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gauloiseblue · 3 months
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You always joked about how you'd find out what's beneath his mask someday. Literally and figuratively.
He'd scoff at your attempts, or suggestions to lift up his sniper mask. Some of them caught him off guard, to the point he almost did it if not for his logical mind. But some of them were downright ridiculous, that he couldn't help but snort.
Maybe you already accepted it from the start, that he would never give in, but it had become a harmless jest at this point, so you might as well keep it going.
Until he gives you permission.
The thing is, it doesn't make you happy—it scares you to death instead. He once bit off someone's finger when they poked it in the place they shouldn't have touched. So what's behind the mask couldn't be worth the pain.
At first, you thought of it as a warning. Yet he wasn't showing any signs of threat. He even pulled you closer, so you'd get a better view of him.
His mask stays on, but he lets you touch his face. Your hands hover an inch away from his veiled visage, before you test the water with a touch.
He doesn't flinch away, or charge at you like a venomous snake. He stays still, letting your hands cup his cheeks.
"Didn't you say you wanna feel my face?" He said as he brought you closer, causing a shiver down on your spine.
"I did," Your lips trembled slightly, "I'm doing it."
"You're not doing it right." He tugged your paralyzed hands onto his chest.
You're confused when he firmly grips both of your hands, before slowly sliding them under the hem of his hood.
"Inside, maus." He commanded you, "Tell me what you feel."
And so, you complied.
You reach into his mask, and touch his neck tentatively. For a brief moment, his muscles tense under your fingertips, before they come down relaxed.
"Oh." You murmured as you pressed your palm onto his nape, "You can certainly survive a fighter jet ride."
He doesn't give you any response, so you take it as a cue to continue.
Your hands creep up higher, until your fingers reach the soft bones of his ears. They seem small in your grasp, smaller than they should, for a man of his height. A quiet smile spreads in your lips, as you imagine the tiny shells that frame both sides of his face.
"I'm surprised you have clear skin." You commented when you caressed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin, "I thought you'd have a problem with it since you always wore a mask."
"Not always." He replied, nudging you to roam further, "I took it off whenever I'm alone."
"Did you take care of it?"
"No."
"How unfair." You chuckled, "I want to have your skin."
He keeps his eyes on you, and you feel the need to clear your throat, before you trace the lines on his face.
"You have a big nose." You mused as you ran your finger down from the bridge of his nose, "It's crooked."
He hums, while his eyes follow your uncertain gaze.
"Why you stopped?" He called you out, and you jumped upon hearing them, "There's one place you haven't touched."
You bit your lips, trembling, as you lowered your hand, until you felt the soft lumps on your fingertips.
They form a thin line, before they split open, inviting your finger inside. Your breathing becomes labored, as he takes a hold on your hand, guiding your thumb into his mouth.
He doesn't break eye contact the whole time, and you're too paralyzed to look away. You feel the sharpness of his teeth as his lips are closing around your digit. You have anticipated the guillotine falling on the head of your thumb, yet what comes after is a soft brush of his tongue.
It was rough, and drenched with his saliva, that it formed a string at the time your thumb left his mouth.
"König—" You gasped when he dragged his lips down to your palm, before stopping on your wrist. Pressing his tongue on your pulse point, where the skin barrier is so thin, that it feels as if he's tasting your flesh.
"Scared, maus?" He muttered, his teeth scraped against your skin, "Are you scared of me?"
You stare at him, as your instinct screams at you to nod. But you shake your head, despite the tremble in your hands.
"Then you'll do as I say." He wraps his arm around your waist, leaving no room for you to run, "Take off my mask."
Your eyes widened, not believing what you just heard from his mouth. Alas, his glare is enough to confirm the truth.
He guides your hands to his mask, pushing it up in a manner that's close to unveiling a white cover. And once the mask is lifted, you have no time to admire him as he slams his lips against yours.
Your cry of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, as he pushes his tongue between your lips. You can't do anything but cling to him, as he presses your body down with his, until your back is flush against the cushion.
When you open your eyes, what greets you is a pair of eclipses. Gone was the cruel Colonel, as he's replaced by a voracious brute.
The moment he opens his mouth, you know you'll be devoured by him.
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taytei · 21 days
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he did, indeed, hit my like a stampede
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winter-turtle · 1 year
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Spider-Punk: *exists*
Me:
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chalkrub · 2 months
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been doodling some bri'ish wildlife - love seeing these guys. because they are the classics aren't they?
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gramnel · 8 months
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sunsestart · 8 months
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I'm normal, I'm normal, I'm normal
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sluttyhenley · 2 months
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There is one way your family can remain in power and, through you, the continuation of our stewardship. Are you prepared? You've been preparing me my whole life, Reverend Mother.
DUNE PART TWO (2024) dir. Denis Villeneuve
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felixcarlucci · 5 months
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You continue to surprise me. Your mind is... truly something special.
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captain-hen · 2 months
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♡ eddie diaz + underrated scenes 3/? ♡ → 5.06: 'brawl in cell block 9-1-1'
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birues · 6 months
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"I do not know the shape of his pain, nor how it shaped him into the man he became. But I know that when man first tasted loneliness and fear, bitterness and despair, he shared in their torment.
And now, as we are called to sleep, he beams. And I know─I know it is because of you.
Thank you."
-Hythlodaeus, from Days Gone by, Days Yet to Come
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thr-333 · 2 months
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I may have made more fanart for @lara-cairncross . Which I may or may not have drawn several days ago and then happy stimmed when you posted your fairy tots. Dandelion dresses are extremely fun to draw:D
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nancyxhardy · 2 months
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get a little more close to me
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