#robot arms are hard to draw

[chloesimaginationthings]

These clown animatronics in FNAF wild as hell..

[battiegutz]

must feed the swinbee enjoyers.... how tf do ppl draw kissing😵‍💫

[ommthenomm]

Nearly there! Oh, wait...

From my Security Breach/DCA 'fic "Junkie Janitor" over on AO3! Moon is getting up to his usual shenanigans, and our poor Reader is suffering at the hands of plot! Gracious!

[ciphillan]

Imagine if you met a yassified version of your dad. What then.

... I think they would be friends :)

When lies of p came out last year, I watched parts of the gameplay with my cedar doll. Like (points at screen) thats your dad hit with the femboy ray girlie

⚠️PLEASE DO NOT REPOST⚠️ [reblogs >>>> likes]

[vikvampir3]

Drawing hoyoverse characters makes me wanna throw my iPad out the window- like why the FUCK are they designed *that complicated* and also I make all of them like slightly darker than they are bc I’m not shading skin in shades of pure fucking white

[t3chborb]

I don't consider Ramattra difficult to draw, just very time consuming due to all the details.

... Excluding his ELBOWS, of all things.

Try extending your own arm and twisting your wrist and then entire arm. How in God's name do those kinds of motions (or in my case, poses) translate to a robot arm without a ball joint at the elbow???? I swear whenever I pose my arms to get a better idea on where the elbow itself points, which side of the hand has the the thumb, etc etc, then translate the information onto him, 99% of the time he ends up with dislocated elbows...

[zr-art-world]

Me: I'm going to make an oc with robot arms

Me:

why did I do this to myself

[jinx-xxed]

Sweet Mornings

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I am so insanely down bad for this man rn so I decided to finally try writing something for him!! This is in honor of him getting let out of rerun jail after over a year, I hope you enjoy ^_^

Summary; Wriothesley has to get as much of you as he can before your trip…

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, pure fluff, you’re a mechanics/weapons researcher, very domestic, morning sex, fingering, soft Wriothesley, marking, multiple orgasms, aftercare, he doesn’t want you to leave </3

Wc; 5.1k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Low, metallic ticks and hums fill your ears as you steadily wake from sleep. The ambience of the Fortress is a familiar symphony, always there in the quiet hours before a day starts or after it’s over. When you started working down here, you quickly became so used to the noise to the point it’s like it’s not even there most of the time. You stretch in your bed, black sheets pooling around your body, and that’s when your attention shifts.

There’s gentle kisses being placed along your neck, eliciting a soft hum from you as you finally crack your eyes open. You move your head slightly to look at the man beside you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours in the darkness. “Morning.” Wriothesley says with a small smirk on his lips, returning to his ministrations on your skin.

“Good morning… how long have you been up?” You ask teasingly, a brow raised. You’re no stranger to waking up to his care since he always seems to be awake before you, and he can never keep himself away from you.

He chuckles, the raspy sound making you shudder. He feigns innocence, “only a few minutes this time.” One of his hands moves beneath the sheets, getting under your shirt to splay a large, warm palm against the softness of your stomach. It snakes up further, his fingers skating lovingly along your skin before cupping a breast in his hand. He squeezes as you shift in his grip, arching your body against his experimentally. He’s definitely hard. He pulls you ever closer and buries his nose in the crook of your neck, groaning. “What am I gonna do without you…”

Ah, right. Your trip.

The time has come again for your annual journey to Sumeru for the convention that’s held for inventors just like yourself. It’s an event to share ideas and new creations and research, full of so many brilliant minds that it’s something you always look forward to. The organizers even offered for you to be a speaker this year, saying how impressed the Akademiya was with your progress on the study of robotics and weaponry. You’d gladly accepted and have been preparing your speech ever since with Wriothesley as your test audience.

You wish he could come with you. You know he’d enjoy all the new sights and seeing the inventions people have come up with just like you do, but his position just doesn’t grant him the possibility. So that means you have to leave him and the Fortress for a week. You already know how badly you’ll miss him, having gotten so accustomed to his presence these past ten months. Getting to know what’s beneath the gruff exterior of the Duke has been a joy and you think yourself lucky to be considered his lover and to be able to share his bed.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by his fingers sneaking under the waistband of your underwear, your breath hitching. They go further, immediately finding your clit and drawing slow circles. Pleasure sparks at the bottom of your spine, a little whine leaving you as Wriothesley’s nose nudges your jaw, his messy black and silver hair tickling your cheek. He leaves kisses wherever he can reach with you both on your sides, his other arm secured diagonally across your middle to keep you against him—right where he wants you.

His fingers drag up through your drenched folds, collecting the slick there and using it as he rubs your clit. “So wet already.” He murmurs against your ear, his words breathy and hot. You can feel the way his erection rubs against your ass through his boxers, his own arousal painfully evident. Despite that, he’ll take his time with you like he always does, only ever caring about your own pleasure before his.

There’s a knot steadily building in your gut, a familiar feeling that you know the end result of. It makes your blood sing, your face becoming flushed as Wriothesley works you with expertise. You writhe against the hard planes of his bare chest when his fingers move downwards, briefly teasing your entrance before sinking two digits into the plush heat. You both moan in tandem, his fingers filling your aching pussy in the way you’d been craving, more arousal dripping along the back of his hand.

He begins a slow pace, drawing in and out and applying pressure in just the right spots. He angles himself so that the heel of his palm presses against your clit at the same time, making sure to leave nothing unattended. You bite your lip and groan, your chest heaving and your head falling back against the pillows. Your shirt has been pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts to the frigid air of Wriothesley’s bedroom and making your nipples perk. He takes full advantage, pinching each one in turn between his index and thumb, the feeling of his callouses making you whimper.

He quickens the thrusting of his fingers into your cunt, recognizing the way you begin to tense and flutter around him. He’s eager, his breath coming in pants and his hips rutting against your ass, desperate to get some kind of friction on his clothed cock. That knot from before grows larger, ready to come undone while pleasure burns like a fire beneath your skin. He manages to get a third finger into your tight pussy, stretching you wide and going as deep as he can while still abusing your clit.

“Oh fuck- Wrio-!“ You whine his name in a way that’s music to his ears, fueling his movements even more. He loves every sound you make, but he especially loves the ones in the morning when everything is quieter and breathless, like the world is only you two in that moment.

You finally break with one final thrust, your orgasm washing over you like a wave, a choked moan the only sound you can manage. You lay there for a moment, your body going limp and basking in the pleasure, before you’re craning your neck and reaching back a hand to pull Wriothesley in. You get to kiss him at last, his mouth plush and pliant against yours as your fingers card through his surprisingly silky hair. You always enjoy him a little more like this, free of his arm wrappings and cold metal. When the Duke is left behind and you have just Wriothesley—your lover. When his edges are softened, his tension laid to rest, and he can simply be himself.

Wriothesley holds you to him as your tongue presses against his own, basking in the warmth of your body. He doesn’t break your kiss even as he works down below, pulling the covers back and tugging on your soaked underwear. He throws it across the room to be picked up later once it’s finally off. He then frees his cock at last, precum beading on the tip, an appreciative groan sounding in his chest. You separate from him with a gasp when you feel his shaft rubbing between your folds, gathering your slick as his tip prods your clit with each shift of his hips.

He hums, kissing the corner of your mouth and moving down to your jaw and neck. “You’re so sensitive in the mornings.” He says like he’s making a note of it, his hand running up and down your thigh.

You groan, the temptation of him getting to be too much. “Wrio, please..”

He can’t help but smirk, those blue eyes gleaming. He leans in, his voice quiet and rumbly. “Please what, sweetheart?”

“Please… I need you.” You whisper, your hands latching onto his arm, taking comfort in the strong muscle and warm, scarred skin. His face instantly softens, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he kisses you again. Oh, he can never deny you. It’s that moment that Wriothesley finally presses his cock into your hot cunt, both of you moaning in relief. He slides in slowly, your pussy stretching to accommodate him inch by inch. He fills you in a way nothing else ever could and just when you think you may burst from it, he bottoms out.

Wriothesley groans at the way you take him fully, the way you seem to suck him in so he never wants to leave. The feeling manages to stun him every time, no matter how much he takes you to bed. “That’s my girl,” he says through clenched teeth, his breath coming out in little hisses. There’s a brief pause that you use to get over the initial shock before the desire to pump you full starts to gnaw at him and you eagerly wriggle in his hold.

The first thrust is bliss, Wriothesley slowly drawing out all the way to the tip and then slamming back in. He loves the way your body reacts—the little twitches of your muscles, the way your walls flutter and clench around him. He quickly finds his pace, something steady and easy and satisfying for you both. He could never be rough with you this early in the morning, not when your body is still soft from sleep, the blue light of the ocean illuminating your form just right and your little noises a quiet song for only him to hear.

He hooks a hand under your thigh, lifting it with ease and holding it there, giving him better access to your cunt so he can hit that spot he knows drives you insane. He can tell he’s doing just that with the way your moans grow in pitch and the way you latch on to him so desperately, needing him even closer. It makes his heart swell, feeling your touch on him and seeing how you crave him so badly. He used to think it impossible for someone to want him beyond a one night stand and yet here you are, proving him wrong day after day. Fuck, he loves you so much.

Wriothesley kisses you passionately while you take him as deep as possible so willingly, like you were made for him. You’re his sanctuary within the Fortress, his slice of heaven that he wants to keep all to himself. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck and this time he kisses with more purpose. He sucks at your skin, eager to leave his mark on you with his tongue and little nips of his teeth, his sharp canines threatening to break skin if he applies just a bit more pressure. You hum approvingly, moving your head to the side to give him more access. He then goes beyond your neck, also leaving marks across your collarbones until he’s satisfied.

His thrusts begin to grow erratic, the threat of release tingling in his muscles. Wriothesley knows you’re close too with the way you tense up, your nails biting into his skin. He reaches his free hand between your legs, finding your clit once more and rubbing quick circles, determined to have you cum at the same time. It’s an easy feat, given how responsive you are to him and how little resistance you put up. It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re clenching and coming on his cock with a moan. The feeling is otherworldly and has him tumbling over the edge after you with a curse, his hot spend painting your walls white.

You go weak against him as you both lay there sharing breath with heaving chests, your limbs feeling like jelly and buzzing with ecstasy from the double orgasm. He sets your leg down gently, both of his arms now wrapping around you to meld you to him. You don’t hesitate to snuggle into his warmth, very much enjoying the feeling of his large body encompassing yours. He relishes in this moment of intimacy, taking all he can get now before you leave him. He needs to make sure to burn the memory of this morning into his brain so he can look back on it during the week to come.

“I love you.” He murmurs, kissing your temple.

You smile, twisting around in his grip so that you’re now facing each other. You nuzzle against his jaw where there’s just a hint of stubble and you breathe him in, his familiar scent immediately soothing. “I love you too.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck again, his breath tickling your skin. “I should handcuff you to this bed so you can’t leave…” He mutters lowly, like he’s not entirely joking.

You laugh, your hand coming up to run through his hair. “It’s only a week, I’ll be back before you know it.” He grumbles indistinctly and you smile, rubbing circles on his scarred back. It’s endearing that such a big, intimidating man like Wriothesley is going to miss you so much. It’s a massive contrast to your past partners who always had something negative to say about your work. You were gone too much, you were too distracted, or they just thought it was pointless to begin with. They never understood how important your work is to you, but Wriothesley does.

You came to Fontaine and subsequently the Fortress about two years ago after leaving the Akademiya in Sumeru, having decided that Fontaine would be much better suited for your line of work with machinery. It took a while to find somewhere that seemed right for you before hearing about the Fortress of Meropide and the gardemek production factory located on the lower levels. It seemed perfect. You pursued a position within the Fortress, having to meet with both Neuvillette and Wriothesley before you were accepted. You’d promised to be completely transparent with any and all research you conducted, any new projects or inventions, and you’d swore to not interfere with any Fortress occupants.

Wriothesley was definitely suspicious of you at first, thinking you were just another sparkly eyed researcher who didn’t know what she was doing, but he was quickly proven wrong. You showed him all of your notes on the gardemeks, how their functionality could be improved and how to avoid any deviants, and all the weapons and tools you’d created. One of the weapons was your own, a sharpshooter rifle that you’ve been able to infuse with the power of your vision. The thing doesn’t even look like its base model anymore after all the modifications you gave it.

You steadily made a home in the Fortress, working day in and day out in your office, happy to fully immerse yourself. You didn’t see Wriothesley much at first of course, the man always busy running the Fortress itself, but after a couple months, he invited you to have tea with him. You accepted, and though you worried it was actually a meeting to kick you out of the Fortress, it turned out to be quite pleasant. He asked you questions about your work and backstory and listened to every long response you gave. The way he’d give you his full attention would make a flush creep up the back of your neck.

You had more and more of these meet ups with him, where you both just sat in his office drinking tea and talking. Then it turned into you bringing some of your work in there and you’d sit on the couch tinkering with metal parts while he sat at his desk filing papers. It was comfortable and easy and you appreciated his company like he did yours. Your feelings for him definitely grew the more you were around him. His witty remarks and rough exterior captivated you and you wanted to know more about him. You wanted to see him every day, to see those softer sides of him that sometimes came out during your tea breaks.

Then, ten months ago, he surprised you by asking you to go out with him. You agreed, of course. You hadn’t known he shared your same feelings but you’d been overjoyed to find someone with a similar mindset as you, someone who didn’t care about the way you worked because he worked the same way.

So now here you are, fucked out first thing in the morning with Wriothesley’s arms securely around you. He seems like he might fall back asleep with the way his eyes are closed and his breathing is slowing down, but there’s a question you still need to ask, one that’s been gnawing at you. Too many old memories of past partners has left you anxious—something you admittedly still need to improve on.

“Hey, Wrio?”

“Hm?”

You hesitate for a second, thinking maybe it’s a dumb question after all, but you push past it. “You’ll see me off, won’t you?”

His eyes open at that, those icy blue depths piercing you. He props himself up on an elbow to look at you, his brows creasing ever so slightly. “Of course I will.” He says it so simply that you realize how silly it was for you to worry. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “I cleared my schedule for you.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. You know how packed his itinerary is on any given day so you can’t even believe what he just said. “Really?”

He chuckles. “Yes really, sweetheart. I put in some more hours these last few days so I wouldn’t have so much to worry about today.” He says. “Now come on, we should start getting ready. Those boats leave early.”

He detaches himself from you, his heat sorely missed, and slips out of bed. He heads towards the bathroom and turns on the shower, letting it run while he comes back for you so it can get warm. Before your feet even have the chance to hit the floor, he gets a hand under your knees and scoops you up, making you yelp. He grins while you cling to him, his strong arms cradling you against his chest.

He sets you down in the bathroom, kissing the top of your head before checking the water temperature. Standing there, watching him, you realize your heart hasn’t felt this full in a long time.

» ☆ «

Wriothesley’s office is in disarray. It’s entirely your doing, with the contents of your carrying case strewn about as you finally pack in all of your inventions. You’d been working on them until the very last minute, trying to make sure everything is perfect. You’re double checking the rest of your bags while you’re at it, attempting to make sure you have all your items and to relax the anxiety you feel. What if, in some awful scenario, you forget one of your showcase pieces? Or your notes? Or your Akademiya robes?

Wriothesley simply watches you from his spot leaning against his desk, tea cup in hand. He knows he can’t help you, you have a method to your madness and if he interferes then it’ll mess you all up. So he stands back, waiting for you to finish so you can eat your breakfast. He’d gotten it brought to his office after your shower together, a simple meal of a breakfast croissant sandwich and tea, but yours still remains untouched, the steam on your drink having long since died down. He looks up when you loudly groan in frustration.

“Where’d that other damn capacitor go?” You mutter, rifling through your things on the floor to no avail.

“Over there, sweetheart.” He says, motioning to where the metal piece had rolled under the couch. He noticed it a few minutes ago but decided not to disturb you, knowing you’d realize sooner or later.

“Ah, thanks.” You say, quickly snatching it and sticking it with some other spare parts in the case. You work efficiently to get everything packed in and wrapped in cushioning so nothing gets damaged. To Wriothesley, it’s like watching someone play an expert puzzle game with the way you manage to fit so much into such tiny spaces with room to spare.

You sit back on your heels after another twenty minutes, a satisfied huff leaving you. “There. That should be everything.” You say, looking over the two-page long checklist you have. All the boxes are ticked off, some even being ticked off twice.

He chuckles, putting his finished tea down to cross his arms. “Good. Now will you please eat?”

You playfully sigh. “Fine, fine.”

You scarf down the sandwich, your hunger suddenly coming out in full force and taking what it can get. You use the tea to wash it down, noticing it’s one of Wriothesley’s fruitier blends. His tea choice changes each day, unless he gets fixated on a singular flavor. You make a game of it sometimes where he’ll test you to see if you can guess which brew he used; your results have been very 50/50.

When there’s nothing but crumbs left on your plate, you look towards the clock on the wall. It’s definitely time for you to get going. You gather your bags with Wriothesley’s help, then looking to him before descending the stairs of his office. “Ready?”

“Mhm. Are you? You sure you got everything?” He says teasingly, one eyebrow raised.

You scoff with a smirk, eyes rolling, and begin walking down the stairs as he laughs. “Don’t you even start.” You refuse to let him get to you, knowing your trusty checklist would never lie to you.

You walk through the main floor of the Fortress together, which is mostly empty except for the guards at this hour. A few of them wish you safe travels as you go, surprising you. Just as you’re about to get into the elevator, Sigewinne catches you to give you a goodbye hug and tell you to be careful since she won’t be around to fix you up. You have to use the elevator ride to compose yourself before you reach the entrance to the Fortress. It was all unexpected—you didn’t think so many people would notice your absence. It makes you smile to yourself.

You both get onto the first boat of the day, the one that’ll take you to the Fortress registration office that sits deep below the Opera Epiclese. The ride is smooth, the operator being extra polite and maybe a little fearful too because of Wriothesley joining you. You find it amusing to see everyone be so intimidated by the man who’d been snuggling you in bed only a few hours ago.

When the boat comes to a stop, you both clamber out and then into another elevator. As soon as it breaches the surface, you have to squint your eyes from the early morning sunlight. You bask in its warm rays as they hit your face, immediately washing away the chill of beneath the sea. You can see Wriothesley doing the same, his broad chest expanding as he takes a deep breath of the fresh air. Neither of you have been out of the Fortress for a while it seems.

You walk along the paths to Marcotte Station, enjoying the sounds of the birds chirping and leaves rustling as you go. It’s from there that you take an aquabus into the Court of Fontaine which is already bustling with people doing their morning shopping or taking a stroll. Not too many civilians recognize you, none of them concerned with memorizing the faces of the elusive Duke and his “sniper”, as you’ve sometimes been referred. The ones who do recognize you, though, stay out of your way or give you side glances. Fair enough.

On your journey to the next station, you grab a few pastries after your stomach started growling at you again. With all the walking, you’d burned through your morning sandwich quickly, and you’ll always take the opportunity to try some of the new foods the city has to offer. Anything is better than most of the food they have in the cafeteria down in the Fortress.

The Court of Fontaine Station is more crowded than you expected, full of people coming and going. You head to the second floor for the Clementine Line, the aquabus having just arrived. You have to refrain from laughing at the way Wriothesley has to squeeze between the crowds with his hulking form, the man looking painfully out of place. You think it’s adorable. You both get situated on the upper level of the aquabus, glad to be able to set down your bags for a while.

There’s less than an inch of space between you and Wriothesley, the warmth of his body against yours a comfort. You’d told him he didn’t have to come all this way with you, since you felt bad about dragging him across the region, but he’d insisted. Going with you would soothe his nerves, he said. It makes you feel funny, like butterflies in your stomach, and extremely fortunate. You still remember old partners that would brush you off, scoffing at you and half heartedly wishing you luck on your “silly trips” while saying they don’t want to waste all that time just to see you get on a boat.

The melusine at the head of the aquabus, Aeval, begins to speak, breaking you out of your thoughts as she gives her typical spiel. The aquabus comes to life, the engine releasing a healthy purr while it starts to churn the water beneath it. You look to your left, to Wriothesley. He’s reading one of the informational pamphlets they provide during the rides, one leg crossed over the other. You can’t help yourself from reaching forward and tapping the back of his wrapped hand, a simple way for you to communicate without speaking. He immediately flips his hand over for you so that you can place yours in it, your fingers intertwining.

“Breeze is nice, isn’t it?” He asks, tilting his head up and briefly shutting his eyes. His messy hair gently blows across his face, those silver strands more prominent in the sunlight.

You nod along absently. “Mhm.”

Wriothesley’s gaze finds yours as he looks you over. “You okay?” He says. It seems he noticed the small anxious twitches you thought you were hiding. He’s always been able to tell when your mind is running a bit too fast, your anxiety getting the better of you despite your best efforts. You constantly forget how perceptive he is until the moment he calls you out on your worrying.

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…” you pause, debating what to say by rolling your lip between your teeth. You finally take a deep breath, bumping your shoulder against his. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

His expression softens, a gentle smile tilting his lips. “Of course, sweetheart. That’s not anything you need to thank me for, though. I wanted to see you off.” He says, squeezing your hand comfortingly.

“I know but…” you shrug, giving him a smile of your own, “I appreciate it regardless.”

It’s not much longer before the aquabus reaches Romaritime Harbor, Aeval giving her final notes on Fontaine scenery and wishing everyone a good day. You two follow the other passengers into the station, heading to the ground level where there’s already a crowd waiting. You recognize a few people, fellow researchers heading to the convention in Sumeru. It seems that makes up a majority, actually. Everyone has their multitude of bags that seem packed with fancy gadgets and inventions that they plan to show off just like you.

You hang back with Wriothesley, knowing you’ll have plenty of time to mingle on the long boat ride anyway. You listen to the rush of the massive waterfalls behind you, the mist brushing your skin. “I haven’t been out this far in a long time.” Wriothesley mutters, squinting into the distance as if he could see beyond the desert and into the heart of Sumeru.

“Last time I was here was for last year’s convention.” You say. You make a hmph sound. “We don’t get out much, do we?”

He laughs. “No, we don’t. The Fortress never really calls for it.”

“True.”

The aquabus at last rounds the corner of the desert, quickly approaching the harbor. This one is bigger than any of the aquabusses in the Fontaine stations, with three levels instead of two. People shuffle about, grabbing their bags and talking excitedly with one another. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself and facing Wriothesley. It’s finally time for you to say goodbye, no matter how much it pains you to see that subtle sadness in his eyes.

You know he’s not one for public displays of affection but you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, breathing him in one more time. He obliges you, his strong arms coming around you in turn. “I’ll miss you so much.” He says into your neck.

“Me too.” You say, rubbing your hands up and down his back. “I’ll be back in no time at all.” When you’re pulling away, you sneak a kiss to his cheek, making the both of you smile dumbly.

“Be safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to punch anybody.” Wriothesley tells you.

You chuckle. “You know I won’t.” He’s seen you in the ring enough times to know that.

He looks at you fondly, a soft sigh leaving him. He brushes some of your hair back, then leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll do great. Tell me all about it when you come back.”

You nod, grinning. “I will, I promise.”

By now the aquabus has docked in the harbor, people steadily climbing off while others wait to board. You gather all of your things. “Alright. I’ll see you in a week.” You say with as much determination as you can muster.

Wriothesley dips his head. “See you in a week. I love you.”

“Love you too, Wrio.” You respond, your heart feeling like it might burst out of your chest.

You finally make yourself follow the rest of the crowd onto the aquabus, managing to get a spot up top so you can catch all the pretty sights. You say hello to a few other inventors while you wait to depart, some of them recognizing you as one of the speakers for this year. It’s refreshing to see so many other eager young minds just like yours, the passion for their craft obvious.

When the aquabus finally begins to move away from the harbor, you find yourself at the railing. You’d expected him to have disappeared, to have begun his long trek back to the Fortress, to have been satisfied with seeing you to the aquabus—but Wriothesley is still standing there. You smile wide and wave goodbye to him, his hand lifting to do the same.

He doesn’t turn away until you’re nothing but a speck in the distance.

[sylusgworl]

SILENT CONFESSION ft. rafayel

content: bodyguard!f!reader/mc, reader feels distant from rafayel in terms of social status, mutual pining, jealous raf (kinda), reader puts herself down constantly, rafayel just being iconic lol

a/n: i don’t know if i like this but… it’s been swimming in my mind for a while, i hope you like it, stay tuned for part two. wc. 1.6k . rbs are much appreciated <3 . m.list

part one - part two

it’s weird.

you’re not supposed to fall for a client, especially not for someone as annoying and fussy as rafayel. but, you were inevitably drawn to him, from the first time you’d ever met, your encounter woven by destiny.

you couldn’t push him away, even if you wanted. sometimes, he’d become clingy, just like a child whose interest’s been taken by a new toy.

no, denying your heart was not an option, not when the sole action of locking eyes released a storm of petals inside of your chest, your feelings written all over your face.

you hoped he’d never notice, too unreachable and perfect for someone like you. he belonged to a whole other world, while you? you were just… ordinary.

“there you are, miss bodyguard,” he acknowledges your presence as you step into the room.

you notice the mess, eyeing the canvases strewn on the floor and paint tubes scattered a bit everywhere, like seeds thrown uncaringly in a fallow field.

rafayel keeps painting, cautiously sliding his paintbrush against the canvas in strokes you can’t recognize yet—not with the work still in progress.

you force yourself not to let your eyes linger on his forearms, where the sleeves have been rolled up, or on his furrowed brows and pursed lips, displaying his usual focused expression.

you try so hard even breathing becomes a struggle, your cheeks flush a little and your lips part.

“so, what brings you here? did thomas send you?” his voice reaches your ears and slowly pulls you away from your trance. you clear your voice.

“uh, yes. he said you’re going to an auction in a bit, and wants me there with you,” you explain, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the feelings you keep sealed within.

rafayel hums in response, then slowly lowers his hand from the canvas. “done!”

at first you’re confused, but as he turns around and faces you, the wide smile and glossy eyes unveil his pride. the painting is finally done, a beautiful night landscape. you recognise some tall buildings and a moon sliced in half hanging up in a corner of the canvas.

“it is... beautiful,” you say in a hushed voice, eyes still glued to it, unrelenting as rafayel studies you with interest.

you don’t notice the amusement in his eyes, or how his gaze softens when it lands on your still features. rafayel quietly gets behind you, and your body stiffens, feeling him towering from above you in an almost intimidating manner, as your breath catches in your throat, heart beats quickening.

“what do you like about it,” his tender voice brushes past your ear. you can feel his breath, his face too close to yours.

you’re nervous, and he can sense it. oh, how could he not, with the way your ears have flushed red or how your movement looks robotic. he wants to tease you more. it’s funny, he thinks, lies to himself, knowing that in reality it was just an excuse to feed his delusion.

he throws an arm around your shoulder and you let out a ‘yelp’ by mistake. your body feels hot against his toned muscles. you clear your voice again and fish for an answer. you had to get away from that situation somehow.

“the light cast by the moon just captures me somehow, it looks so poetic. it really draws my attention away from everything else,” you say in all honesty.

because even if, to some, rafayel was childish and what not, his talent was undeniable. you wondered so many times if he had a muse (who his muse was), noticing the half done head sculptures filling the studio. you never dared to ask, sensing it was a fragile matter.

rafayel was genuinely grateful for your honesty, and amused by how shifty your hands were, fingers entangling as you softly spoke, gaze firm on the work in front of you.

“alright, let’s go,” he tosses you his car keys, “you’re driving, miss.” something in your stomach churns.

he walks in front of you, humming lightheartedly, while you’re left to deal with the aftermath the conversation left on your heart.

the drive felt longer than what it really was. the car interior was filled with a calm melody, supposed to ease the awkwardness. it didn’t work. rafayel being sat right next to you made you extremely aware.

“turn right at the next crossroad,” he points, you comply.

a storm of people walks past you as the two of you walk quietly, your relationship of client and bodyguard unknown to the passers-by. well, not that they’d think you were dating or something. never.

“rafayel, why are we in a shopping centre again?” you break the silence.

it felt weird from the beginning. when thomas sent you the auction schedule, the time written on it was 8 pm. you still have four hours left.

“didn’t thomas tell you the dress-code?” he asks you with a grin.

you try to recollect what was written. “oh, a masquerade ball?”

oh.

you stop in your tracks.

“you don’t mean…” you trail off, and he nods, resuming in his steps and grinning mischievously.

he stops in front of one of the most expensive stores at the linkon shopping district, and your eyes widen at the realisation.

“oh no, i really can’t afford anything in here,” you reveal with a tone of embarrassment, but rafayel simply pushes you inside gently. a clerk comes and asks you for your preferences, however you’re still stunned by his previous action, you can’t even hear what the two of them are talking about.

a couple of hours later, as you’re still trying on different dresses and shoes, rafayel decides on a sky blue gown that flows softly down your legs, two thin straps keeping the bodice from falling and a single slit down your leg. simple, but classy.

you feel nervous under his scrutinizing gaze, your face flushed at the sudden attention.

he gets closer to you, hands behind his back.

“close your eyes,” you do, almost instantly. it’s better than facing him right there.

you feel cold metal against your face, hear his close breathing against your forehead.

“there, you can open now,” he whispers before letting go.

you turn to face the mirror. your cheeks are red, lips tortured by the continuous biting and your glossy eyes… outlined by a silver mask, a couple of pearls framing the eye openings.

you almost don’t recognise your own self.

you feel more elegant, more… beautiful. a sudden thought erupts in your mind. will he ever look my way? you almost feel ashamed to entertain such a desire.

rafayel notices your sudden silence, but doesn’t say anything.

“here’s your dress, miss,” the clerk from before hands you a bag. “oh, wait, i’ll give you my card, one second,” you start fumbling in your bag, but a hand stops you.

rafayel.

“the gentleman here has paid already.”

you shift your gaze from the lady to linkon’s artist, puzzled.

“consider it a bonus,” he mutters, turning around and walking out of the store, hoping you don’t see the pink blush dusting his cheeks.

the ride back is just as silent as before. you clear your voice, “thank you for the dress, and the shoes… and the mask.”

rafayel hums in response, his gaze fixated on the car window to his right, lost in thought.

the rest of the evening passes in a blink, the ball held before the real auction being not your thing. people out of your league, filthy rich, approach you when rafayel is entertained by some other guest.

“good evening,” one man says, his gaze that of a starving beast as he looks at you from top to bottom, wetting his lips. your intention is written all over your face, you think. and just as you’re about to respond with a harsh remark while swirling the champagne in your cup, not feeling the drink anymore, a familiar hand grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer.

“she’s with me,” rafayel retorts, a fake smile tugging at his lips and a bold stare pinning his opponent to the ground.

the man excuses himself and walks away, mortified.

“next time, pretend that these dogs aren’t there,” he confronts you, still looking at the man from before. “or better, just say you’re my date,” he mutters. to himself. except, it is loud enough for you to hear it. your heart makes a leap. rafayel’s face flushes as he realises what words have just left his mouth.

of course he’d say that, you’re his bodyguard after all. you couldn’t certainly get entangled in scandals.

you wait for him to correct himself, to tell you it’s because of your job. but what you're expecting doesn’t happen.

only now you finally allow yourself to look at him. he’s dressed in an elegant grey suit, the azure tie matching your own dress. his hair is styled neatly. a half mask shadows part of his features—it has the same pearls as yours. you wonder if it’s a coincidence. you hope it’s not.

his eyes have long been fixated on you, hiding emotions on the verge of spilling.

the music changes in the background. it’s a waltz.

“may i have the honour of this dance?” he asks with a hand stretched over, bowing slightly.

you take it, almost enchanted.

the melody intensifies, the dances open

© sylusgworl - 2025, all rights reserved / i don't allow anyone to copy, repost on other platforms or sell my works.

[amirasainz]

Hiiii, I love your blog so much. I was wondering if you could do Lando, who's girlfriend is a model. It is during the fashion weeks and she is very exhausted but boyfriend Lando takes care of her and is cheering her on the whole time. Thank you bby 💘

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Lights, Camera and Flashes

The buzzing chaos of Fashion Month had arrived. Yn was in her element, juggling fittings, rehearsals, and back-to-back shows across New York, London, Milan, and Paris. As the world’s most sought-after model, her name was on every designer’s list. Each city meant new challenges, new outfits, and new pressures.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” Lando asked as they touched down in New York for the first leg of the month.

Yn, seated beside him on the private jet, turned to give him a smile. “I’m fine, Lando. Just excited. It’s going to be a long month, but I’ve done this before.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Yeah, but this year, you’re in every major show. You’re human, Yn, not a robot.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand. “Especially with you here.”

Lando chuckled. “Alright, but remember, the moment you feel off, you tell me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she promised.

---

New York

The energy in New York was electric. Yn stepped into the first fitting at Alexander Wang’s studio, where she was immediately swarmed by assistants and stylists. Lando stayed close but out of the way, watching her work with awe.

“You’re staring again,” Yn teased during a break, catching him leaning against the wall with a goofy grin.

“Can’t help it,” he replied. “You’re incredible.”

Show day arrived, and Lando was front and center in the audience, holding a bouquet of red roses. As the music boomed and Yn stepped onto the runway, he couldn’t contain himself.

“Let’s go, Yn!” he shouted, drawing amused glances from nearby attendees.

Yn strutted down the runway, her confidence radiant. She caught Lando’s eyes briefly, a small smile tugging at her lips. When the show ended, Lando was waiting backstage with his bouquet, pulling her into a tight hug.

“You killed it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks, babe.”

But as they exited the venue, they were met by a sea of paparazzi. Lando immediately stepped into protective mode, wrapping his arm around Yn’s waist and glaring at anyone who got too close.

“Back up,” he barked, shielding her with his body.

“Lando, it’s okay,” Yn murmured, though she appreciated his protectiveness.

He guided her safely to their car, refusing to let go until they were away from the chaos.

---

London

The second week brought them to London, where Yn had fittings with Burberry and Victoria Beckham. Though she was still riding the high from New York, Lando noticed the subtle changes—her slightly slower pace, the way she leaned on him more often.

“Feeling alright?” he asked one evening as they returned to the hotel.

“Yeah,” she replied, but her voice lacked its usual energy.

Lando wasn’t convinced. After her first show in London, she came backstage to find him waiting with a massive bouquet of lilies.

“You didn’t have to do this again,” she said, though her smile betrayed how much she loved it.

“Of course, I did. You deserve it.”

The paparazzi were even more aggressive in London, shouting questions and shoving cameras in their faces. Lando tightened his grip on Yn’s hand, his jaw set.

“Lando, it’s fine,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

“It’s not fine. They don’t get to treat you like this.”

Once they were safely inside their car, Lando turned to her. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said.

“I can handle it,” she replied softly.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he countered.

---

Milan

By the time they arrived in Milan, Yn’s energy was noticeably lower. Her flawless walk on the runway was still the talk of the industry, but off-stage, she was quieter, more fatigued.

“You’re not eating enough,” Lando pointed out one morning as she picked at her breakfast.

“I’m just not hungry,” she said.

“You’re running on fumes, Yn,” he said, his voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine, Lando,” she insisted, though the dark circles under her eyes told a different story.

Lando doubled down on his support, making sure she had everything she needed. After each show, he was there with flowers, helping her navigate the crowds and shielding her from the paparazzi.

When she came back to the hotel after her third show in Milan, she collapsed onto the bed. Lando didn’t say a word; he simply ordered room service, drew a bath, and set up her favorite playlist.

“Come on, princess,” he said, lifting her gently. “Time to relax.”

---

Paris

By the time they reached Paris, Yn was running on pure determination. Paris Fashion Week was the grand finale, and every major designer wanted her.

Lando could see how hard she was pushing herself, and it worried him.

“Yn, you need to slow down,” he said one evening as they walked back to their suite.

“I can’t,” she replied, her voice cracking. “This is the biggest week of the year.”

“And you’re the biggest model of the year. You’ve already proven yourself,” he argued. “Your health is more important.”

She didn’t respond, but he noticed the tears welling in her eyes.

On the night of her final show, Lando was louder than ever, cheering her on as she walked the runway. When it was over, he met her backstage with the largest bouquet yet.

“You did it,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

---

When they finally returned to their hotel that night, Lando went all out to pamper her. He ordered her favorite food, prepared a warm bubble bath, and queued up her favorite movie.

“Lando,” Yn said as she sank into the bath, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, sitting beside the tub. “You’re my princess, Yn. You deserve the world.”

As the movie played later, Yn curled up in Lando’s arms, her head resting on his chest.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to do anything alone,” he replied, brushing a kiss against her temple. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Yn drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the month finally catching up to her. But with Lando by her side, she felt safe, loved, and completely at peace.

And for Lando, there was no greater honor than being her rock.

[crimsoncandy04]

While fighting Scaramouche's robot, some of our clothes got ripped, and Scaramouche then did what he wanted until the reader couldn't take it anymore~

You watch as a giant metal hand suddenly comes crashing down from above and falls onto Traveler.

You scream out his name as you watch him try to get up while Scaramouche reels back to strike him again from inside the mecha bot. Yet even as you draw your blade and try to rush over to block it, you know you're already too late.

Nahida interferes. You notice a small movement from Aether's arm as if he was trying to get your attention and gesture to the small goddess. Telling you to help her instead.

You don't hesitate. Aether always had a plan. He always ended up okay.

But what about the dendro archoness?

You quickly use your electro vision and warp yourself across the floor as fast as you can. Grabbing onto Nahida and pulling her with you out of sight to safety.

However, you just barely make it.

And in the process of rescuing the goddess of wisdom, Scaramouche had slammed his enormous metal fist into the ground again and nearly smashed you flat. But instead of doing that, the oversized mech appendage had merely scraped your side and left not only your entire right arm aching, but your entire chest now completely exposed as well.

You sat Nahida on her feet as you quickly tried to gather the remaining pieces of your dress top and yank it over your shoulders to give yourself some modesty, but you didn't have time as Scaramouche swung at you both again when he heard you swear from your hiding place.

He missed again but only because this time, Nahida protected YOU instead.

She saw your distressed expression and immediately tried to use her own power to shield you but it wasn't strong enough.

Nahida is out cold much like Traveler a few meters away.

And now you kneel before The Balladeer all alone.

Injured.

And with your tits out.

Basically.

You quickly try to cover yourself with one arm instinctively as you struggle to your feet, grasping your blade as you prepare to go out with some dignity and die fighting for your friends at the very least, however instead of hitting you again or using any elemental attacks to obliterate you to pieces on the sanctuary floor, Scaramouche seems to have a different kind of death prepared for you and uses his giant metal hand to reach down and quickly snatch you up by the belt hanging from your waist.

You are hoisted hundreds of feet in the air and dangled before the face of the vile robot as the controller capsule slowly opens to reveal the face of your most likely killer. Scaramouche.

He gave you a smug and condescending look as he brought you closer to him.

"I find it rather laughable that a strong warrior like yourself is reduced to such a lowly state!"

You try to slap him with your injured hand but he just grabs you by the wrist instead.

"look at you. Exposed to your enemy like a common whore! Heh. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised though."

Scaramouche reaches with his free hand and pinches one of your nipples hard.

"This body of yours was never one of a fighter's. At least like this these exaggerated...assets of yours will be put to a much better use."

You wince as Scara continues to fondle your tits roughly.

"What the hell are you doing Balladeer!?" You sneer. This was low even for him.

He just chuckles at you.

"enjoying the rewards of a victorious battle sweetheart. You shouldn't be surprised. Everyone says you're the Traveler's woman you know? And I beat him. I'm just taking what now belongs to me."

He moves his hand from your breast to your stomach. Slowly moving down until his fingers caress against your pubic mound. You brace yourself as you feel Scara slowly dip a finger into your womanhood, followed by another. He moves slowly at first. Maintaining eye contact with you at first as he gazes down at you with a teasing look.

He knows you can't do anything to stop him.

And he's enjoying it.

"I hate you!" You hiss.

Scaramouche just grins cheekily as his fingers curl inside you and cause you to squeak a little as you quickly try to yank your hand free from him so you could silence yourself and save what dignity you had left.

"We'll see if you still feel the same way when I'm done with you angel."

Scara continues to play with your pussy as you blush and struggle to keep your lips sealed. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying this.

He didn't deserve it!

Yet he seemed to almost know intuitively.

"don't bother acting like you don't love this. You might as well drop this stubborn act now because the more you resist, the more pleasure I'll inflict upon you." You feel your insides tighten as he begins to rub against a sensitive spot inside of you and finally you falter.

"Please don't. This feels too good! Please this isn't fair!" You whine as he keeps up his pace and softly hums to himself as he listens to your plea.

"beg me, you filthy parasite. I want to hear you beg me to make you cum as you make a mess on my hand. Maybe after that, I'll release you."

You feel your gaze fall from his as you struggle to form words. You couldn't say such lewd things. Wasn't Aether still just below you? What if he heard you? You forced yourself to maintain your silence.

Your orgasm was hitting you seconds after that and only after finger fucking you through it completely, did Scara slip his hand away from your dripping sex and bring his fingers to his mouth as he licked them clean.

"I think I enjoy the way you taste mortal. Perhaps I'll have to break my promise and keep you after all."

You tried to retort with what energy you had left but Scaramouche was pulling you into the robot with him before you could even process what was happening.

You were slammed into the furthest glittering wall as the opening closed behind you quickly. After that you felt Scaramouche grasping your thighs as he spread your legs wide and slid in between them.

"There's something I've always wanted to try. Don't worry, I've heard human women are delicate creatures when it comes to this type of thing. I won't break you here sweetheart."

You heard the sound of fabric rustling in the darkness. Felt your skirt being lifted as he teased the tip of his cock against your slit.

Oh archons.

This was actually happening.

The Balladeer was going to fuck you.

Like actually fuck you.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he slowly slid his large length inside of your tight cunt.

"ah~ your cock is...scara it's too big!"

You could almost feel the shit eating grin that was on his face.

"I know angel. It's but one of the countless ways I am superior to humans. "

You feel him thrust into you then. Moving slowly at first to let you adjust as he continued to hold your legs apart.

Surprisingly enough, he knew how to move his hips. And when he picks up the pace a little, you finally lose yourself and moan softly as Scaramouche fucks into you as deeply as he can.

"You're taking me so well. I'm surprised."

He thrusts a little harder as you gasp and moan a little louder.

"Scara you're hitting against my g spot too much!" You whine cutely. He just silences you with a quick kiss. His lips trailing from your mouth to your neck. He whispers into your ear in a sultry tone.

"you seem to be enjoying it though dear. So I plan on fucking you for as long as I want." He emphasized his point with a rather rough thrust against your sweet spot. Causing you to cry out as you feel yourself reach your peak again.

Yet he just continued.

After a few hours of this you swore you were going insane. Every thrust felt like it was more intense than the last. Your used cunt made the most unholy squelching sounds as Scara continued to fuck into your oversensitive pussy like you were nothing but a mere toy for him. You had lost count of just how many orgasms he had forced out of your body and at that point you didn't really care anymore.

Was this really that bad?

Archons his cock felt better than anything you had ever imagined.

Scaramouche had used his body to pin your knees next to your head on either side as he held your hands with his. It was a rather intimate position but you didn't think too deeply about it.

Because as you felt him gently kiss your neck and continue to pound into you, you felt like you were made for this.

Was this... what it felt like to go crazy?

"Scara please...I can't take anymore ~" you moan sweetly as you struggle to get your point across.

He kisses you again before responding.

"you'll take it until I say you are finished. Now just let go sweetheart. Give yourself to me fully. Don't worry about anything but what I'm giving you." He murmured before biting into your neck and thrusting even faster into you.

You wanted to say something. But you couldn't find the strength to anymore.

Scara's cock felt so good.

You wanted him to fuck you more.

Until you went insane.

You reached up with your good hand and held onto him as you begged for another kiss pitifully.

This wasn't that bad of a fate.

Perhaps a life as the fuck pet of a false god...was truly one you had always been destined for.

He was the everlasting lord of arcane wisdom now after all. Of course he was right about something like that and he had even been generous enough to have helped you fulfill such a destiny himself too~

Why had you ever lifted a sword against such a wise and benevolent god?

At least now you were where you were always meant to be.

[the-odd-shu]

Lab shenanigans

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note this takes place during season 1:

Gender Neutral!Reader who got hired as the lab illustrator because neither Jayce nor Viktor can draw and they need an illustrator to document all their official papers with recognisable diagrams of their inventions.

The next part

Masterlist

Reader who was just freshly been employed as the lab illustrator, sitting diligently at their new desk whilst Jayce fetches the research folder and Viktor tinkers away in the background.

Reader who lets Jayce set down the heavy folder on their desk, which holds all of the pair's research as well as hundreds of cruedly drawn sketches of inventions such as the Hexclaw and early drafts of the Hexgates, drawn by both himself and Viktor. (They are not drawn well, and it is only because most of the drawings are labelled with big, obnoxoious arrows that you actually know what you're looking at).

Jayce pausing in his explanations of the tech on each page and his promises to pull everything out of storage when you need it for a refence, slowly trailing off when he catches sight of your reaction to the drawings: "Why are you making that face?"

Reader who is diligently flicking through the pages and trying not to crack up at the poorly drawn stick figures, and the messy, uneven parallel lines of wires and robotic arms, and the scribbled oblong that is supposed to be one of the gemstones. They're not half bad attempts from people who focus their energy and time into math equations and flowery research papers, but that doesn't mean they're not amusing to look at.

"What face? I'm not making a face."

Reader turns all of their attention down to the pages and proceeds to fail at smothering their snort as the concept sketch of one of the Zaun suits. They push the folder back along the desk, to create enough space to prop their elbows on the table, to pinch the bridge of their nose hard to try and school themselves into some form of calm.

"Why are you laughing?" Jayce asks, sounding geniunely confused.

Whilst Reader tries to save face by responding, "I'm not. I'm just- uh, coming to terms with how much work I have ahead of me."

Jayce frowns.

The commotion has caught Viktor's attention.

"Well, it is a lot." Jayce allows, "but we won't rush you. The deadline is months away after all, and if-"

His words fade into the background in your mind as Viktor chooses then to roll over on his wheelie office chair to see what's going on, only to immediately grin in understanding. He rolls his chair up on the adjascent side of your desk, mouth pulled into a wicked smirk as he points to a particularly wobbly zaun suit drawing. "That would be one of Jayce's masterpieces."

Jayce lets out an offended noise, whilst Viktor takes malicious joy in flipping through the folder to point out which other drawings were done by Jayce. Most of them are wobbly and uneven, but have clearly been mapped out with steady, slow care.

In retaliation, Jayce swipes the folder out of Viktor's gleeful hands, and pointedly flips to a fresher page dated back to a couple of days ago. You catch a glimpse of the title 'hexcore', scrawled across the top in confident letters, before Jayce is turning the folder back to you and loudly proclaiming the work of art as Viktor's.

[The ‘hexcore’ has been drawn with wobbly, uneven lines that lacked the sleek, parallel look of the actual subject, with poorly recreated runes that did not at all take into account perspective or foreshortening.]

Reader loses it at the attempt, whilst Jayce and Viktor continue to squabble with one another in the background.

I just NEED all three of them to spend countless hours in that laboratory getting stuck in their respective tasks (creative Vs Scientific) and all three of them come out aching and satisfied by the time the janitor comes round to kick them out for the night, despite doing jobs that require different parts of their brains. The overlap of countless, almost unsolvable equations, with the hours of staring at a blank page and slowly but surely coaxing out an image, it just so precious to me somehow.

Bonus points of course, if Jayce and Viktor are getting really into a scientific debate across the room by the chalkboard, flinging enormous words back and forth at one another, whilst Reader slowly dies inside trying to make the metal part of an invention LOOK like metal.

I just need Reader allowing the background muttering and excited exclamations to sooth them as they carefully draw another diagram above a neatly scrawled out text box of the pair's latest concept.

Jayce: “Yes! That could work! What do you think, Y/n?”

Reader: Head snaps up at being addressed. “Uh…”

They blue screen as they come back to reality and realise they haven’t moved in hours and their back and neck desperately ache from the movement. They're suddenly starving, and hungry, and really need to pee, but didn't notice before because they were so engrossed in their work. Kind of like how the other two get about their research.

Viktor being a night owl and working on projects late into the night.

Jayce being smart and taking cat naps on his desk because he's an early bird, but a deadline is coming up and he refuses to be defeated by exhaustion.

And then you have Reader. Who is not being supervised in the kitchen, where they've made their fifth coffee and with shaking, caffeinated hands, they begin pouring in a generous helping of a Piltover energy drink.

Viktor hears the can pop.

He says your name warningly. "You better not be making that culinary monstrosity again."

Instead of responding, they knock back the whole mug in desperate gulps, ignoring the rancid taste and shivering from the mix of burning liquid with the pop of hundreds of tiny bubbles.

The mug gets slammed loudly back on the counter. Viktor sighs heavily and pushes his wheelie chair towards Jayce's desk.

He wakes him up, with a prod of his cane into his side.

"I'm about to have a breakthrough." He explains quickly motioning to his desk. Blary eyed and clearly not fully awake yet, Jayce nods along. Viktor points dramatically to Jayce and then in the direction of the kitchen. "You're on assistant duty for the next half an hour."

The tiredness leeches out of Jayce's face. "They didn't-"

"They did."

"But they've already got caffeine shakes!"

"Tell that to the sound of the kettle bubbling away and the pop of a can lid. It has already happened Jayce. All we can do now it keep the damage to a minimum."

On silent feet, Reader's shadow appears on the other side of the desk. Both men jump. The light overhead casts their face into shadows and somehow makes their eyes glow. It is a terrifying sight.

Viktor recovers first. "We need to put a bell on you!"

"Kinky. Now, whatdoyouwantmetodrawnext?!" Their assistant rushes out in a single breath.

And both scientists pale. It was already beginning then.

The next four hours consists of Jayce struggling to keep his eyes open whilst Reader pokes fun at him and offers up their 'creation', Jayce firmly declining and trying to get on with his work, whilst Viktor keeps to himself and snorts periodically at the banter.

Reader draws and draws and then rubs out, before diligently getting back to drawing again. There is a frenzy to their marks. A wildness to their eyes. The scratch and scritch of their pen, getting lost amongst the sound of cogs turning and screws tightening and Jayce's yawning. So much so that when it suddenly ceases, neither of the scientists notice at first.

Not until Viktor asks for a warm tea, only for the previously eager assistant not to respond. He lets out a fond sigh, Jayce straightening up from his own work.

Reader is passed out on their sketchbook, having FINALLY crashed.

Viktor gets up to make his own tea.

Jayce shrugs off his jacket, and puts it over their shoulders as a makeshift blanket. The man has such broad shoulders that it practically swallows the assistant from sight, but they do not stir.

"That'll give them an awful neck ache tomorrow." Viktor observes aloud.

Jayce snorts. "Maybe it'll be enough of a punishment to stop them making that foul concoction."

"Unlikely."

Jayce just shakes his head and collapses back onto his desk and lays his head down on his arm. "Ten minutes." He mutters out before closing his eyes.

Viktor hums. And by the time he gets his tea back to the desk, his partner is out like a light, just as he had predicted.

"I CANNOT believe you're making me do this Jayce." Viktor exclaims sarcastically.

"Viktor. Please let me get that cog for you. Just this time. Please!"

"Oh no, no, do not get up on my account." Viktor firmly dismisses as he shimmies down his cane, one hand over the other all the whilst making exaggerated groaning noises.

Jayce is practically vibrating in place. "Please! It is literally all the way under that side board. Can I just slide it out for you? You can pick it up yourself."

"Oh no, do not strain yourself!" Viktor insists, sitting himself down on the floor, one hand holding his cane up as he shoves his other arm under the side board.

"VIKTOR!" Jayce all but whines, and takes a step forward.

"Ah!" Viktor immediately reprimands. "Y/n get the spray bottle!"

You've been watching the entire scene in amusement from your desk. Quietly giggling at Viktor's ribbing and Jayce's desperation to be useful. They make a rather amusing duo.

Jayce's eyes have jumped up to you. Frozen mid-step, eyes pleading.

You grin, pointedly reaching across the gap between yours and Viktor's desks to grab said spray bottle.

On the floor, Viktor makes a triumphant noise, before straightening up and brandishing the cog above his head. "Got it!" He exclaims, before slamming the blasted thing onto the side board. Then he tries to clamber back up his cane to his feet. He is unsuccessful as his leg decides not to co-operate this time.

He sighs. "Jayce." He says heavily, "as punishment for making me get down here in the first place-"

"What?! I've literally been-"

"As reprimand for your dastardly crimes. You are obligated to offer me one hand. But ONLY one, or your punishment shall evolve into death by spray bottle." Dramatically, he holds out his hand to his exasperated partner.

In support, you give the spray bottle a little squeeze in Jayce's direction, to which he shoots you a dark look. You merely grin back.

Then Jayce offers Viktor his hand, their fingers wrapping around the others wrist. "Slow." Viktor instructs, as he readjusts his legs into the right position. Jayce nods.

Then Jayce gently pulls Viktor up as Viktor balances between his feet and his cane.

"Thank you." He says, patting Jayce on the cheek, before promptly turning on his heel to retreat back to his desk.

They're so silly, I love them so much.

The next part

[revelboo]

Your Soundwave and Starscream make my brain more happy than my antidepressants * - *

I like writing both of them and coming up with alternate takes for them

The idea for the first part popped into my head before bed and was still there in the morning, so I wrote it. But I keep thinking, what if Soundwave knew Shockwave before empurata, back when he was Senator Shockwave? Before they stripped the good parts away and left only the drive to preserve and protect Cybertron, before all the reasons he cared, every emotion but anger had been cut away along with his memories of why it was important to him. What if they were friends and that’s why Soundwave is so patient with his weird, unsettling behavior and anger issues?

Clumsy Heart Pt 2

IDW Shockwave x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “I can dispose of this one and find another if they’re unsatisfactory,” he offers when Soundwave is silent, visor dim as he just stares at the human. Displeased with you. Reaching for you, Soundwave’s hand catches his wrist when the human tenses as if considering jumping even though they must realize they won’t survive the fall. Head turning back to Soundwave in question, he waits. “I can find another.”

• “No. Leave it.” You’re only a human, nothing he should care about, but that dispassionate offer to dispose of you doesn’t sit right with him. Knows it’s the lingering grief, but the fear in your eyes, in your mind pulls at him. Makes his spark ache. Releasing Shockwave, he lays the back of his hand on the surface. “Come.” Those wide eyes go from him to Shockwave and back. You’d just heard Shockwave mention disposing you, of course you’re scared of both of them now. And yet, you twist your little hands together and approach him. Stopping just shy of his servos. Looking up at him with wet eyes.

• Dispose, like you’re a bit of trash to throw away. Because the universe isn’t done screwing with you. Apparently catching your ex was just the warm up to this horror. Trying to study them both without angering them, you can feel your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough you wander if you might have a stroke and not actually have to worry about what the giant, robotic monsters want with you. Because that might be the kinder way to go if all the horror movies you’ve watched are any indication. Dissection? Maybe you’re food? A plaything to torment until they break you?

• That anxiety and fear is nearly crippling as Soundwave crooks a servo. Needs you to calm down, because right now he can’t think. Little face grim like you think you’re marching to your own death, you climb into his hand and sit down, shoulders tense. And it’s worse. So much worse when you lay your little palms against him, your wild emotions crashing through his defenses, flooding into him. Shuddering with your fear, head bowing, he’s aware of the ragged, tonal sound of pain he makes. That he’s drowning in you, unable to stop it. “Stop.” Pleading because he can’t shut you out, your terror needling his spark, slicing into him.

• That word sounds like a plea. Like he’s in pain. Something’s wrong. Soundwave trembling faintly as his head dips toward the human. Doesn’t understand what’s happening, but it seems plausible that it’s because of you. Reaching, he uses his cannon to rake you out of Soundwave’s palm, hearing your yelp as you land on your back and slide on the surface of the desk, immediately curling into a ball. And again Soundwave stops him from removing you, grabbing his arm. “Why?” He asks. You’re clearly somehow a threat, so why restrain him? Why not let him permanently remove you?

• Arms covering your head, you draw your legs up against yourself and wait for the next blow. Wonder if you can make it to the edge of the surface you’re trapped on before you’re caught. If you can jump and land so you don’t break something. Needing to believe there’s a way out of this. That you can survive them.

• Venting raggedly as he watches you peek at him, he wonders that himself. You hadn’t been trying to hurt him, your fear just too visceral. A living thing, all jagged edges that can cut him. A hand still on Shockwave’s arm, he reaches out a single servo. Rumbles softly at you, making that low, tonal hum he uses on his cassettes to soothe. Spark aching as you shiver, curling tighter into a ball. Because you’re not a cassette, you don’t understand he isn’t going to hurt you. Ghosting that servo over you, he keeps humming to you. Coaxing you even as it hurts him, his grief and loss tangling with your fear in a confusion of misery. Unable to stop crooning at you through the agony.

Previous

Next

[monstersholygrail]

what do you think IT robots dirty little secrets are? What bottoms do I (litterally) need to press for him to get needy for me?

(I need him to be feral about me)

(can I be 🦠 anon please?) anywho love you 💋

No bc I totally get that. I need him to be feral for me too. And yes ofc you can. Love you too babes!

Now it’s insanely hard to get IT Robot really feral. He has his settings set to be as chill and laid back as possible. He’s suuuper popular around the office, known as the cool guy. And absolutely nothing stumps him or drives him crazy.

Except for one thing. Now IT Robot is quite arrogant. He has a bit of an ego knowing all the people in the office come looking to him for help or a good time. He likes to take things nice, slow, and easy. Which has him leaving his partners writhing beneath him for countless hours, not rushing no matter how long they beg. He takes his time with them and draws it out till they’re lying in a puddle of their own release, their brains totally fucked out.

So if you play hard to get, act like you don’t care about him and down think he’s all that, he will absolutely go feral for you. He’s obsessed with the whole nonchalant attitude, he loves when you can match his energy like that and it just drives him crazy. Makes him want your attention, affection, and pleasure even more.

He’ll do absolutely anything to get it. Dragging you away somewhere to rut into you like he’s short circuited and is stuck in the repetitive motion of slamming his cock inside you.

IT Robot gets instantly hard when you reject him. But he won’t stop bothering you, sliding over in his chair to your station and whispering so many dirty words in your ear till you’re blushing with a straight face. Then when you agree to fuck him just to get him to shut up, he gets the dopiest and most smug smile you’ve ever seen.

He then takes you away for the rest of the day, refusing to let you get back to work. Loving how you start by acting all tough and like you don’t care about him but end up melting into his arms and taking control of your pleasure. He finds it so hot to see you fall a part in particular. No one else can compare.

[glorifiedagents]

Heat of the Moment — lilia calderu

LILIA'S FINGERS didn’t stop, her pace quickening, working you open, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. She watched you carefully, her smirk widening as your body responded to her touch. “Yeah? You want to cum all over my hand, princess?” she teased, her thumb pressing harder against your clit as she fucked you with her fingers.

SUMMARY: after a short but heated argument, lilia has you against the wall, reminding you who is in charge

PAIRING: lilia calderu & fem!reader

CAUTION: no plot because nah, the usual smut, too lazy to write warnings - SO - 18+

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

AUTHOR'S NOTE: *sighs*

The tension in the room was suffocating. “You just don’t fucking get it, do you?” Lilia snapped, her voice vibrating with frustration as she paced, her hands gripping her hair. She was coiled tight, all fire and raw emotion. You stood still, arms crossed over your chest, doing your best to maintain some semblance of control, but your breath was already uneven, your pulse racing, betraying the heat coursing through you. “Oh, I get it all right,” you shot back, your voice low, challenge clear. “You don’t like it when I won’t just sit back and follow your orders like some damn robot.”

Lilia’s eyes narrowed, and she stopped dead in her tracks, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. There was a dark flicker in her eyes, something dangerous, something she was barely holding back. “You’re such a fucking brat,” she muttered, lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You push me until you get exactly what you want. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

Before you could even think of a response, she was on you, so fast you didn’t have time to react. One hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head back, the other grabbed your waist and yanked you up against her body, your chest flush against hers.

The sudden force left you breathless, but the heat from her body, and the strength in her grip — it sent a sharp jolt straight to your core. You gasped, hands instinctively grabbing at her arms, but she didn’t give you a second to think before her lips were on yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate — teeth clashing with her tongue pushing into your mouth as if she needed to claim every inch of you. You moaned into the kiss, but she swallowed the sound, dominating you with every thrust of her tongue. The taste of her lingered, intoxicating, and your body responded against your will, already craving more.

Her thigh pressed between your legs, the hard fabric of her pants rubbing against your cunt, and you couldn’t hold back the way your hips ground against her, searching for friction. A soft, needy moan escaped you as you felt the pressure building between your legs, but she pulled back just enough to smirk at you, her eyes dark with amusement. “You really are fucking needy, huh?”

You clenched your teeth, heat flooding your face, but before you could respond, her lips were back on your neck, kissing and biting, drawing another gasp from you. Her hands were everywhere —gripping your tits, her thumbs rolling over your nipples with just enough pressure to make your head spin. She knew exactly what she was doing, making you squirm, making you melt in her hands.

You tried to push her off, just for a second, but she wasn’t having it. She smirked, nipping at your collarbone as her fingers moved down, pulling your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed, your breath catching in your throat.

The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver, but before you could think, her fingers were there, sliding through your folds, spreading your slickness, teasing.

“So fucking wet,” she murmured, pressing one finger into you, just enough to make you gasp, “and you were acting like you weren’t ready for this. Such a little liar.”

Her thumb brushed against your clit, slow and teasing, just enough to make you whimper. “Lilia, pleaseeee...” you begged, unable to control the desperation in your voice as your hips rocked forward, chasing the friction, needing more of the pressure that was slowly building between your legs.

She hummed, her thumb rubbing harder, teasing, before her other hand joined in, pushing two fingers deep inside you, stretching you open. You gasped, your back arching against the wall, your legs weak as the pleasure hit you like a wave, but she didn’t stop. She worked you open with ruthless precision, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your legs tremble, your body reacting against your will.

“Look at you,” she whispered, her voice husky with satisfaction. “So fucking desperate for me. I should’ve done this sooner.” Her fingers curled, hitting that spot inside you over and over, and every time, it was like a wave crashing over you, sending jolts of heat straight through your core.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping her shoulders for leverage as you struggled to stay upright, the pressure building until it felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.

Lilia slowed her pace for a moment, making you writhe, desperate for more. Her lips were back on your neck, sucking at your skin, marking you as hers. “You want to cum, princess?” she teased, her fingers still working you in that perfect rhythm. “Beg me for it. Tell me how bad you want to cum for me.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, the pressure mounting, your chest heaving with each desperate breath. “Lilia, please, I need...” you gasped, cutting yourself off as her fingers dug deeper, quicker. The words were slipping past your lips, but you couldn’t hold back anymore.

She didn’t stop, not even when your body started to shake with the intensity of it. “That’s right,” she murmured. “You’re gonna come all over my hand, aren’t you?”

And then, without warning, the orgasm hit you like a fucking freight train. You cried out, your body jerking forward, your cunt clenching around her fingers as your vision blurred, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t breathe, hell, you couldn’t even think — just the raw, overwhelming pleasure crashing over you, drowning you in sensation.

Lilia didn’t let up. She fucked you through it, her fingers relentless, dragging out every last bit of pleasure as she watched you come apart in her hands. Your body was trembling, your head spinning, and you couldn’t even remember how to speak, the only thing that mattered was the way she was driving you wild with every motion.

When she finally pulled her fingers out, she brought them up to her lips, eyes never leaving yours as she licked them clean, a low hum of satisfaction escaping her. “Good girl,” she said, her voice rough with desire, as she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips soft against yours now, but still possessive.

Your body was limp, spent, your skin burning with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but your mind was still hazy, still craving more.

You were still trembling, breath uneven, fingers gripping the front of Lilia’s shirt like you needed to hold onto something solid to stay upright. Your body was still reeling from the way she’d just wrecked you against the wall, but even through the lingering haze of pleasure, you needed more — you needed to feel her come undone too.

“I wanna return the favor,” you murmured, your voice raw and needy, your lips brushing against her jaw.

Lilia let out a low, satisfied hum, her fingers tilting your chin up so she could look at you properly. The way she gazed down at you—half-lidded eyes, lips swollen from kissing, confidence radiating from every inch of her—made heat flare in your stomach again. She had you exactly where she wanted you, and you both knew it.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement, “I know you do.”

In an instant, her hands were on you again, tugging at your clothes with an urgency that sent a fresh pulse of arousal through you. You helped her strip away the last barriers between you, your hands moving just as fast, desperate to get her bare, to feel every inch of her.

Lilia didn’t waste time. She was still in control, guiding you down, pressing you to your knees in front of her. Her fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a firm tug as she hooked one knee over your shoulder, spreading herself open for you.

Your breath hitched at the sight of her — slick, needy, absolutely dripping for you.

“Pleasure me, baby,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding.

Your mouth watered, and you didn’t hesitate. You pressed a kiss to her inner thigh first, teasing, making her huff impatiently. But before she could reprimand you, you licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her folds, moaning softly at the taste of her.

Lilia groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

You obeyed, wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking just enough to make her shudder. She was so wet, so warm, and you wanted nothing more than to make her fall apart the way she had done to you. You flicked your tongue over her clit, circling it, before dipping lower, pushing your tongue inside her.

“Fuck,” Lilia cursed, her hips rocking forward, grinding against your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that.”

Her leg tightened over your shoulder, her fingers still gripping your hair, guiding you exactly where she wanted you. You let her use you, drinking in her moans, the way her body twitched every time you sucked on her clit, every time your tongue curled inside her.

You could feel her getting closer, her thighs trembling, her breathing turning ragged. She tugged your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. “Don’t stop,” she panted. “You’re gonna make me cum all over that pretty mouth.”

Her words only spurred you on, and you doubled your efforts, tongue working her clit with relentless precision, sucking and licking until her grip in your hair tightened painfully and her whole body tensed.

Then she shattered.

A loud, unrestrained moan left her lips as she came hard, her hips jerking against your mouth, her juices coating your lips and chin. You kept going, letting her ride out every last wave of pleasure until she was shuddering, her breathing uneven, her grip in your hair finally loosening.

You pulled back slightly, licking your lips, looking up at her with dazed satisfaction.

Lilia smirked, eyes still heavy with pleasure as she met your gaze. “You did so fucking good, baby,” she murmured, reaching down to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Her smirk widened, and the hunger in her eyes sent a fresh wave of anticipation through you. God, you could never get enough.

Your knees ached, a dull throb settling in from the hard floor, but you barely noticed. The taste of her was still on your tongue, her slick still warm on your lips, and the way she had unraveled above you had only made the ache between your own legs worse.

Lilia wasn’t finished.

She grabbed your wrist, rough and unrelenting, pulling you to your feet. Your legs trembled from how long you had been kneeling, but she didn’t slow down, didn’t give you a moment to steady yourself. She didn’t care if she was too rough, and you didn’t either.

“Get on the bed,” she ordered, voice low, thick with dominance.

You swallowed hard and obeyed, crawling onto the mattress, positioning yourself as she wanted — head hanging slightly over the edge, body laid out for her. The anticipation made you shiver. You didn’t know what she was planning, but the hunger in her gaze told you she wasn’t going to be gentle.

You bit your lip as she moved, eyes locked onto her as she grabbed the harness, fastening it around her waist with practiced ease. The deep red strap stood thick and firm against her hips, and your breath hitched at the sight. The way she adjusted it, tightening the straps, rolling her hips slightly to test the fit — it made your stomach clench with a fresh wave of arousal.

Lilia smirked, stepping closer, towering over you. Her fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up toward her.

“Open,” she murmured, voice smooth, commanding.

You parted your lips immediately, your breath coming out in shallow little pants. Lilia spat into her hand, spreading the wetness along the length of the strap, her movements slow, deliberate — teasing.

Then she pressed the tip against your lips, not waiting for permission before pushing inside.

The thick silicone stretched your mouth open, making you whimper around it as she pressed in deeper, her grip tightening in your hair. She started slow at first, letting you adjust, but it didn’t take long before she picked up the pace, thrusting harder, the harness rubbing against her clit with every movement.

You moaned around her, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as she fucked into you with steady, deliberate thrusts. Lilia groaned at the sensation, the strap grinding against her, sending waves of pleasure through her already sensitive body.

“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice laced with dark amusement. “So eager to take everything I give you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening as she pushed deeper, her rhythm relentless. You could barely breathe between thrusts, barely think past the heat pooling between your thighs. You slid a hand down, fingers brushing against your own soaked folds, finding your clit and rubbing tight, needy circles.

Lilia noticed immediately.

“You’re touching yourself?” she breathed, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “So desperate, so needy while I fuck your mouth?”

You moaned in response, your fingers working faster, your body trembling from how much you needed release. Your throat constricted around the strap-on as she thrust again, saliva dripping down your chin, your eyes glassy with arousal.

Lilia groaned, her grip in your hair tightening, using you exactly how she wanted, chasing her own pleasure as the harness pressed and rubbed against her clit. Her hips snapped forward, her rhythm stuttering, growing erratic.

“Fuck—” she gasped, her breath coming out in sharp pants. “I’m gonna cum — gonna cum all over this fucking thing.”

Her pace grew rougher, more desperate, her thighs shaking as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. With a sharp cry, she came hard, her body trembling, her slick dripping down her inner thighs as the last waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

She didn’t stop thrusting immediately, her hips still moving in tiny, jerky motions, dragging out every last second of pleasure while you moaned beneath her, fingers still buried in your own soaked cunt.

When she finally stilled, panting, she looked down at you—your lips swollen, your cheeks streaked with tears, your thighs pressed together as you chased your own high.

Lilia smirked.

“Such a good little slut for me,” she murmured, wiping the wetness from your chin with her thumb before leaning in, her lips brushing against your ear.

Your body was still trembling, your skin burning with the aftershocks of pleasure, but Lilia wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

"Get in position," she commanded, her voice thick with dominance. "Face down, ass up."

You barely had time to catch your breath before obeying, shifting onto your stomach and lifting your hips, pressing your chest against the mattress while arching your back to present yourself to her. You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs, a sticky, needy mess, but Lilia just smirked at the sight.

"Look at you," she murmured, dragging her fingers down your spine, making you shiver. "So obedient, so fucking desperate to be used."

You whined, pushing back slightly, wordlessly begging for her to just give it to you already.

Lilia didn’t make you wait.

You gasped as she grabbed your hips, lining up the strap-on with your soaked cunt before thrusting in, filling you in one ruthless motion. The stretch was immediate, the thickness pushing deep inside you, forcing your walls to accommodate every inch. Your fingers curled into the sheets, a breathless moan spilling from your lips as she set a brutal pace, fucking into you with no hesitation, no restraint.

The wet sounds of your cunt taking her filled the room, mixing with the sharp slap of her hips against your ass. Lilia groaned above you, the harness grinding against her clit with every movement, sending waves of pleasure through her as well.

"Fuck, you're gripping me so tight," she breathed, punctuating her words with a sharp thrust that had you choking on a moan. "So fucking greedy for my cock."

Her hand came down hard against your ass, the stinging slap making you jolt, a gasp leaving your lips. The heat of it spread across your skin, making your walls flutter around the strap buried inside you. Lilia chuckled darkly.

"You like that, don’t you?" she mused, spanking you again, harder this time. "You love being treated like a filthy little slut, don’t you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, voice muffled against the mattress.

"Yeah?" Lilia grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to arch even deeper. "Then take it."

She fucked you even harder, hips slamming into you, the strap stretching your cunt with every relentless thrust. The pressure, the fullness, the way she completely controlled your body — it was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your moans turned into desperate cries, your legs shaking, but Lilia didn’t slow down.

Her teeth found your shoulder, biting down, marking you as she fucked you into the mattress. One of her hands moved to your chest, fingers finding your sensitive nipples, rolling and twisting them between her fingers, making you whine at the sharp mix of pleasure and pain.

You barely had time to process it before she changed positions again.

Without warning, she shoved your face into the mattress, pressing your cheek down into the sheets, holding you there with a firm grip. Then, she lifted one leg, pressing her foot against the side of your face, pinning you down completely as she adjusted her angle.

"Stay down," she ordered, her voice dripping with authority.

You had no choice. You were completely at her mercy, your body helpless under her control as she fucked you even deeper, the new angle hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur.

"Fuck, you're dripping all over me," Lilia groaned, her pace growing erratic as she chased her own high, the harness pressing perfectly against her swollen clit. "Gonna cum again, baby? Gonna soak my cock like the desperate little thing you are?"

You couldn’t even speak, couldn’t do anything except take it. Your walls clenched around the strap-on, the pressure coiling so tightly inside you that you thought you might break.

Lilia smirked, grinding her hips in slow, deep circles, making the strap drag against every sensitive spot inside you.

"Go on," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Cum for me again. Be a good little slut and fucking cum."

The command shattered you. Your body locked up, pleasure ripping through you in sharp, uncontrollable waves. Your cunt pulsed around the strap-on, your cries muffled against the sheets as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling and wrecked beneath her.

Lilia groaned above you, her own body tensing as she reached her peak, the harness pressing perfectly against her clit. She moaned low and breathless, grinding against you as she came hard, her slick dripping down her thighs.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the lingering wet, messy noises of your ruined body against hers. Then, Lilia leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she smirked.

"You did so well for me," she murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

Lilia pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, her breath hot against your damp skin. Your body was still twitching from the aftershocks, your limbs weak, your pussy aching from the relentless way she had just fucked you. You barely registered the moment she unstrapped the harness, tossing it aside before making herself comfortable beside you, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over your thigh.

For a few moments, the only sound was the ragged rise and fall of your breathing, the sheets sticking to your sweat-slicked skin. But Lilia wasn’t done.

"Come here," she murmured, her voice lower now, thick with satisfaction but still laced with hunger. "Sit across from me."

You blinked, still trying to gather yourself, but when Lilia gave an order, you obeyed. Slowly, you shifted, moving to sit opposite her, mirroring her position. Your legs spread instinctively as you adjusted, and the moment you settled, you realized exactly what she had in mind.

Lilia’s smirk was dark, knowing, as she let her own legs fall open, exposing her glistening, swollen cunt. She was just as wrecked as you, her skin flushed, her body still trembling slightly from her own release.

"Touch yourself," she instructed, her fingers already slipping between her slick folds. "I wanna watch you."

Your breath hitched, your body still overly sensitive, but the sight of Lilia playing with herself, the way her fingers slowly circled her clit, had fresh heat pooling in your belly. You swallowed hard, then let your own hand slide down, finding your drenched cunt, fingers parting your folds as you rubbed slow, teasing circles over your clit.

A shudder ran through you both at the same time.

"Fuck," Lilia exhaled, her eyes locked onto your soaked pussy, watching the way your fingers moved. "You’re still dripping. I really did a number on you, huh?"

You whimpered, nodding, your fingers pressing down harder as you matched her pace.

"Uh-uh," Lilia tutted, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Faster. I wanna see you fall apart again."

You obeyed, speeding up, pleasure sparking through your overstimulated nerves. Your walls clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled again, but the sight of Lilia losing herself across from you was enough to send another wave of heat rolling through your body.

Lilia’s head tipped back slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she worked her fingers faster, rubbing tight circles over her swollen clit. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her free hand moving to cup her own breast, tweaking her nipple between her fingers with a breathy moan.

"God, you look so fucking good like this," she groaned, her dark eyes flickering back to you. "Fucking yourself, all messy and desperate. Wish it was my fingers inside you instead."

You whined, your thighs trembling, your stomach tensing as the pleasure built. "Lilia—"

"You close, baby?" she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yeah, I can see it. Your legs are shaking. You wanna cum for me again?"

"Yes," you gasped, barely able to get the word out.

"Then do it," she commanded, her own fingers moving faster, her hips rocking into her touch. "Cum with me. Make a fucking mess."

The sound of her wrecked moan was the final push you needed. Your body seized up, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as another orgasm crashed through you, more intense than the last. Your fingers stuttered, rubbing frantically over your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing, slick dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.

Lilia cursed, her own body shaking as she tipped over the edge, her head falling back against the pillows as she moaned deep and low, her slick coating her fingers as she rode out her orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you breathing hard, bodies still trembling from the pleasure that just wrecked you both.

Finally, Lilia let out a slow, satisfied sigh, smirking at you through half-lidded eyes. "Damn," she murmured, voice thick and lazy. "You’re fucking perfect."

You couldn’t even speak, could only let out a breathless, blissed-out laugh as you collapsed back against the bed.

Lilia chuckled, reaching for you, pulling you against her sweat-slicked body. "C’mere," she muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I think you’ve earned some rest."

[voidmetal-alloy]

All my RM redesigns so far yay

Some design notes under the cut

Gemini: Pretty basic, changed his palette slightly to make him a bit more icy/crystal looking, semi inspired by his stage, included some references to the star sign symbol.

Nitro: Went off some of his concept art and added some details based off a motorbike racer suit.

Burner: Again, similar, a lot of my designs for this au are to make the characters easier for me to draw whilst staying identifiable, the little metre on his chest is based on an Australian bush fire warning sign.

Centaur: One of the most heavily altered, I based his palette off oxidised Ancient Greek armour and changed his shape a bit to reflect that aesthetic more.

Star: Gave him some shooting star details, not much else except for making his chest armour a little bit smaller.

Pharaoh: Gave him some malachite details.

Shadow: His armour looks the most like clothing out of all the robot masters due to the way Wily’s alterations worked, he only has four fingers on each hand and is the only robot master with visible skin that isn’t a natural colour (not counting characters like Nitro and Guts)

Toad: Probably the most different of all of the designs so far, I have her warm toned colours and bumps on her armour to make her more toad rather than frog like, the eyes on her helmet are actually floodlights.

Top: His pose and proportions are based on a ballet dancer, the panels on his arms are boosters to make him spin faster, his eyes are a spiral instead of a complete oval.

Splash: Mostly just some little alterations to make her a bite more cohesive in my style, her tail ends with a small rudder to help her move faster in the water.

Chill: Honestly I just wanted to incorporate some of the cool stuff from his concept art so I started from there and worked my way out.

Clown: Went with more of a jester vibe for him because it was hard to find proper clown references, tried to go with a cuter sort of look to take away from some of the creepiness he’s associated with.

And finally, Magnet, who had to have his own background because the grey I used for everyone else didn’t work for him and I’m too tired to go back and change it:

I swapped his red for white to give a bit more balance to his red and blue accents, and tried to give him a very professional, put together look with the magnet on his neck mimicking a collar and sort of making him look like he’s wearing a doctor coat or a button up.

Oki that’s most of the stuff I wanted to mention I’m sure I forgot some but ah well thank you for reading my rambling