#i wanted to see how far i can go while armed with just a mechanical pencil

[selenealwayscries]

Wanted to try out other art styles so here's a couple other people's zedaph designs

original artists of the designs I tried recreating: @sickcroww30 , @weaselmcdiesel , @mojo-chojo , @noctude , @wasyago and @lunaticalis

ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉ ᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʰᵃʰᵃ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ⁱ ᵈⁱᵈⁿᵗ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉᵐ

[roanniom]

feeling absolutely unhinged tn just wanna be eddie’s little HOUSEWIFE more than i wanna BREATHE

Come Home

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV sex / unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), titty fucking, recreational drug use and alcohol consumption, dirty talk

It’s a role playing thing more than anything else. You are a teacher and, as such, are very busy and a far cry from a stay-at-home anything. Hell, you’re not even married to the man.

But ever since you and Eddie had moved into the little third floor walk up in what could laughingly be called Downtown Hawkins (really just the overgrown main street), Eddie had been jokingly calling you his little housewife. It’s a title that sends shivers down your spine and a smile spreading across your face any time he utters it. And he does so jokingly, of course. You know how much Eddie respects your ambition and your hard work, so you’ve never had to worry that he truly wanted to see you barefoot and pregnant, stuck in the kitchen for the rest of your days.

But some days that idea is way more appealing than you’d like to admit.

On this day in particularly, you find yourself fantasizing about it more than normal. In the morning you’d woken up earlier than usual, roused by the loud thunk of a garbage man tossing a can recklessly back into place. Unable to go back to sleep, you’d extricated yourself from Eddie’s arms and tiptoed into the kitchen where you’d whipped up a batch of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh coffee. Way more than your usual weekday toast or cereal, mainly because you wanted to give your tired brain something to focus on in order to wake up more fully before work.

Eddie had stumbled into the kitchen, stretching and in his mechanic coveralls, with a massive grin on his face.

“What has my little housewife been up to this morning?!” His voice had bellowed through the small space and you’d dropped the spatula in order to walk over to him.

“Thought my big strong man could use a hearty breakfast before he has to go to work for the day,” you’d said with a humorous lilt, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling your body to his. Your words and actions made his grin grow even bigger.

“You’re so beyond good to me, you know that? What’d I ever do to deserve a babe like you, huh?” he’d asked, sliding his hands down and around to squeeze your ass. You’d squealed and pushed yourself further into his body.

“You treat me right in the bedroom, so I treat you right in the kitchen. Those are the rules.” You’d said it primly it as if reciting a gospel. He’d laughed and shoved his face into your neck, peppering kisses against your throat and cleavage till you’d screamed about not wanting to burn the last batch of pancakes.

The two of you had sat together at your shitty linoleum dinette set eating breakfast way too fancy for a Thursday. Eddie had insisted on pulling his chair right up against yours and keeping his hand on your thigh even while he devoured forkfuls of eggs and pancakes with abandon.

By the time you were driving home from work, however, the phantom feeling of the weight of his hand on your thigh from the morning still hadn’t dissipated. It had been a half day, allowing the students to leave early in order to theoretically study for finals (but you heard tell of a bonfire that was going to be happening down by the lake so you held no delusions that the free time would be utilized by any for actual academic purposes). So this meant you were going to be home way ahead of Eddie today.

Your first thought upon waking through the front door is that you should masturbate. You’d been feeling so confined by your clothes all day and had been feeling needy since you’d kissed your boyfriend good bye on your way out the door.

So you march right into your shared bedroom, strip down to your sensible underwear, light a candle, and lay across your bed. You hadn’t had to get yourself off in a good long while. Eddie kept you good and satisfied, the insatiable man that he is. You do your best to get in the right mindset, breathing deeply running your hands along your body.

You catch a glimpse of yourself, however, in the mirror across the room and you frown. Maybe your underwear is too sensible. Gliding to your dresser you dig in one of your drawers and pull out the lingerie you’d been planning on surprising Eddie with on his birthday. It’s lacy and see through and your heart rate kicks up just at the thought of the way you know his jaw will drop and his eyes will widen at the sight of you.

Once your curves are encased in the fine fabric, you lay down on the bed once more. Hands slide up to you with your nipples through the fabric and you sigh. It feels good. Not as good as it would if it was Eddie touching you…but good.

You roll onto your stomach and look at the clock. 2:00 pm.

Fuck.

Eddie wouldn’t be home for hours. The injustice of that fact makes you pout and roll petulantly back over onto your other side. This new position gives you a straight line of sight to Eddie’s old black lunch pail and you perk up. This might be your best bet to loosening up and finding pleasure on your own. 

~*~

It’s 2:45pm when the shop phone rings. Eddie doesn’t look up from the car that he’s working on, instead ducking his head further under the hood and squinting at the engine that’s been giving him a hard time. 

“Eds! It’s your girl calling!” 

Eddie stands up straight so fast he bangs his head hard on the underside of the hood. 

“Motherfuck,” he mutters to himself, rubbing a grease-stained hand on the part of his head that was sure to soon form a bump. He makes his way over to the little office of the mechanic shop and takes the phone from his uncle’s outstretched hand with an appreciative nod. 

“Baby? What’s up? Is everything okay?” Eddie’s apprehension is clear. You never call him at work. Not because you don’t want to but because your days are usually both so busy there’s barely any chance to do so. 

“Eddie!” you cry out over the phone, your voice high and bright. “I miss you. Come home.”

Eddie’s a bit startled by your demand, immediately checking his watch. Just as he thought, it’s still really early in the afternoon. 

“Why are you home so early? Are you sick?” His heart starts thudding over the possibilities when he hears your musical laugh. 

“No it’s a half day at work, silly. Remember?” 

Eddie shakes away his fears and laughs along. 

“Oh sorry sweetheart, completely forgot.” He tosses a glance back into the shop at all the cars he still has to get to. “Must be nice. Getting into any trouble with your free time?”

He asks the question lightly. Joking. Fully expecting you to say you’re about to go grocery shopping or you’re watching a shitty movie on tv or reading one of your paper backs. But then you mumble.

“Well...maybe just a little.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and a huff of a chuckle escapes his lips. 

“Oh yeah? What’s my girl up to, huh?”

There’s the rustle of fabric over the line and then your voice is low. 

“I’ve needed you since you left this morning Eddie. Can’t take care of myself as good as you can,” you say, practically moping. Eddie’s stomach flips and he slams his back against the wall next to the phone, making sure he can no longer be seen in the doorway from the shop. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart are you...are you touching yourself?”

“I was trying to. It’s getting a little easier now that the edible is kicking in,” you say, sounding far off for a second like you’re thinking real hard about it.

“Now that the…” Eddie’s face splits in a massive grin and he rubs a hand over his eye. “So you’re telling me you’re high right now?”

“It’s kicking in, yeah,” you whisper cheekily and he can guess you’re smiling.

“So you mean to tell me that you’re high…and horny…and calling - begging - for me to come home and fuck you?” Eddie closes his eyes and squeezes the phone cord so tightly that he’d worry it would snap if he actually gave a fuck. His low, almost growling words cause you to moan over the phone and his knees go weak.

“Yes, Eddie. Need you so bad. Can you come take care of me? Please?”

Eddie doesn’t reply, not directly to you. Instead he turns toward the shop and cries out, loud enough that you hear it and descend into giggles.

“Uncle Wayne, I’ve gotta go. Gotta…take care of something at home!”

~*~

When Eddie thunders up the stairs to your shared apartment, he doesn’t know that you can hear him coming from inside. You laugh at the way you can hear his enthusiasm in his rapid steps and adjust yourself, waiting for him to reach the door.

When you hear him step onto the welcome mat you wrench the door open and lean against the frame dramatically. Just on cue, Eddie’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Welcome home, baby,” you coo handing over the glass of whiskey you have in one hand. His eyes are so fixed on your lingerie that he barely notices what you were holding in the other hand until you busy yourself with it.

You bring one of his pre-rolled joints up to your lips and light it with his favorite lighter, puffing a bit to bring the burning end to life. The lap of Eddie’s mechanic coveralls immediately tightens as he watches your plush lips work around the joint.

“Fucking Christ…” Eddie mutters to himself before knocking back the entire glass of whiskey in one go. You pull the joint from your lips to laugh at his reaction, squealing when he slams the door and grabs you around the waist, dragging you into the apartment. “Where have you been all my life?”

You giggle and bring the joint up to his lips, delighted when he takes a grateful drag. 

“I’ve literally been right next to you your whole life,” you respond, referring to the friendship you’d shared since grade school, long before you both admitted your feelings for one another. 

“Well fucking stay right next to me, okay?” Eddie gruffly asks, burying his face in your neck. You hum your approval and wrap yourself around his tall, lanky frame. 

“That depends.”

“Oh? On what?”

“Can you fuck me now?” you ask breathlessly. Eddie pulls back to look at you, laughing, but you’re not joking.

“Of course, baby. But I just got in the door. Let me shower and - ,”

“No!” you say petulantly, holding onto him as he tries to step out of your grasp. “I want you like this.”

You begin kissing up his neck and he attempts to extricate himself. 

“Sweetheart, I’m covered in grease and sweat...” Eddie shakes his head but you’re nodding so profusely he stops in his tracks. 

“’s what I’ve been fantasizing about all day,” you clarify, biting your lip and looking up at him through dropping eyelashes. Eddie’s cock hardens that much more and soon you’re pressed up against the closed door to your shared bedroom, his thigh fitted between yours in a way that has you panting.

When Eddie finally pulls away from the act of devouring your mouth, you sag against the door to catch your breath, watching as he pulls from the joint that he must have miraculously continued to hold onto as you’d made out. He looks like sex on a stick as he stands there, propped up by the arm against the door beside you, joint between his lips, tousled hair sticking up in every direction from the impatience of your hands. His coveralls have been zipped open and pushed askew by those same impatient hands and he smiles under your scrutiny. 

“What brought this...enthusiasm on, babe?” he asks lowly. “Not that I’m complaining of course.” 

You wriggle under his gaze. A little embarrassed, but also wholly aware that it’s Eddie. Your Eddie. So you’re honest. 

“Wanna be your little housewife,” you admit shyly. His features crumple for a split second as he is entirely unable to handle how fucking adorable you are. But just as quickly he’s grinning. 

“Of course you do,” he says confidently. He places the joint back between his lips and presses his thumb against the plush of your lower lip. The tip of your tongue darts out automatically to lick at the pad of his thumb and Eddie’s breath catches. Your pupils are blown wide. You’re properly horny (and properly stoned) and a deep seeded desire to care for you bubbles in his abdomen. “Can you get on the bed for me, princess?”

Like a gentleman, he opens the door you’d been pressed against and bows you inside. You do as you’re told and immediately drop down onto the mattress, looking up at him expectantly like a puppy who is awaiting further trick instruction. Eddie wants to laugh, but his dick also twitches impatiently in his coveralls, reminding him action is probably the best next course. 

“Undress me?” he asks as the next part of his plan. You get up on your knees on the bed and drag him to you by the fabric of his coveralls. Tongue placed between teeth, you stare him in the eyes as you zip him down all the way, pushing the sleeves over and off his shoulders. The garment drops to gather at his hips where it tented at the crotch, catching on his hard dick. You whimper and reach for it but Eddie grabs your arms and winds them around his neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

When he pulls back, he has a smirk on his lips.

"Alright. Time for a shower."

Your brows knit together immediately in betrayal and your arms tighten around him, trying to keep him grounded against you.

"But I - !"

Eddie shushes you and steps out of his coveralls. His boxer-covered dick prods insistently against you and it makes you whine more, rubbing into it as much as you can. But Eddie's having none of it. He pulls you off the bed, dragging you alongside him on his way to the bathroom.

"Shhh, sweetheart. You're gonna help clean me up. That's what a good housewife would do, yeah?" He comes to a stop in front of the sink, leaning you against the counter so he can pull back the shower curtain and turn on the water. You brighten up a little at his words.

"Yeah..." you agree tentatively. Eddie rewards you with a massive grin and before he can stall any longer, you strip down his boxers and nudge him into the shower. You tear off your lingerie and step in behind him as fast as you can, pushing your way into his waiting, dripping arms.

"There's my baby," he coos. The longer the two of you stand in warm embrace beneath the steaming shower head, the more his erection flags into a contented, semi-hard state, however, and you aren't having any of that. So you are the one who pulls away and gets to work.

You clean your man. Well.

Soap up and down the length of his body. Shampoo in his hair - which you can only access efficiently once he leans down to help you reach. He hums and groans as you massage the shampoo and then the conditioner into his scalp and the sound makes your entire body sing. There's so much intimacy in the act, and if you weren't so turned on that every nerve in your body felt like a live wire, you probably would have enjoyed it more. Once he's started rinsing off, however, you attend to your favorite part. Running your hands up and down his abdomen and tugging at his cock without preamble.

"Baby..." Eddie reprimands, his eyes closed against the spray of water as he rinses conditioner out of his sopping curls. He doesn't open his eyes or move to stop you so you take that as your cue to continue. You get him nice and hard again, aided by the shower water and saliva that you spit into your hand.

"Sweetheart," Eddie tries again, chuckling this time and grabbing at your wrist. "I'm supposed to be getting clean."

"I don't care," you answer petulantly. "You've kept me waiting."

Eddie's laugh is full-bellied this time. He turns the water off and slaps your ass lightly, stepping around you to get out of the shower.

"I know, baby, and that was cruel. Why don't you get dried up and put on another one of those little get ups for me. I'll get us another drink and we'll do whatever you want, okay?"

You fight the urge to groan in frustration that you're being made to wait yet again, but a good housewife wouldn't do that. So you nod and wrap yourself in the towel he offers you, bouncing back to the bedroom on impatient feet.

~*~

Eddie had gotten the upper hand on you, that much he knew. Making you wait had been cruel, but he knew it was better then getting you - and the bedroom - all covered in grease. He makes a mental note, however, to fuck you on his work counter at the garage one evening next week after closing time when Wayne was out of town. He's nothing if not attentive to your wants and needs.

He whistles as he walks back to the room, a glass of water and two cold bottles of beer in hand. He's expecting you to be waiting patiently - maybe even already at the door. But he stops short the minute he sees you.

You're spread out on the bed in a different lingerie set, this one somehow even sexier than the last (the second part of the birthday present you're giving him early) and he feels his entire body flush a deep red. You watch it spread down his neck and chest and rub your thighs together.

"Eddieeee," you call out, letting the second syllable become a whine. You might still be begging, but you're the one in power now, as far as Eddie is concerned, as he moves on autopilot towards you. You get up onto your knees and accept the bottle of beer from him, wrapping your lips around it lasciviously. Eddie chokes as he takes his own sip.

"Can I have it?" you ask, gazing up at him from beneath your eyelashes. Eddie swallows thickly.

"Can you have what, princess?" he asks. He knows what you want. He's just a teasing asshole and needs you to say it.

But you are tired of playing the game so you don't play fair. Instead of answering him you pull at the towel tied around his waist till it falls to the floor, exposing an erection so proud your mouth positively waters. You make eye contact as you reach for it, practically daring him to get in the way of what you want again. But Eddie's resolve is completely gone at this point, and he lets you have it, letting his eyes fall closed at the sensation of your hand wrapping around him.

You tug at him. You let your thumb ease over the thick vein that you so enjoy licking. You flick your wrist when your fist encases his mushroom head, coaxing a bead of precum out the slit just as you'd hoped.

Eddie takes one final swig of his beer before grabbing your bottle from you and placing both it and his on the night stand. You whine when the motion pulls his cock out of your grasp, but you’re placated when he climbs onto the bed and grabs you by the thighs, pulling you roughly under him.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asks, kissing a trail down your neck from your ear to your clavicle. “What’s my girl been fantasizing about in that little head of yours?”

A tiny half sober part of your brain finds humor in the phrasing of the question. You happen to know Eddie finds you to be the smartest person he’s ever met, so the diminutive nature of his words tickles the part of you that longed for role play like this. Tired of being the smart girl, the serious girl, the strong girl, right now you just want to be this. Eddie’s girl.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you coo. You can see the conflict play out behind his eyes at your response. On one hand he’s so fucking turned on by you wanting to please him. Like he can’t fucking stand how turned on he is. But he also gets off on you getting off, so he’s not sure how to proceed.

And you know this. You know your Eddie is the most selfless, generous lover you’ve ever had and you know that it must kill him to think of putting his pleasure first. But you furrow your brow and give him the biggest puppy dog eyes possible in an attempt to telegraph the fact that you need him to play along. That him taking what he wants will be giving you everything you need.

It’s clear the moment this clicks in his mind because Eddie’s features go soft. He rubs a knuckle lightly against your temple and smiles.

“Of course my baby wants to make me feel good." The kiss he places to your forehead and then the tip of your nose makes your eyes slide closed. So it's soft he wants, you think to yourself. Your heart rattling around in your ribcage doesn't exactly feel ready to slow down enough to match a soft tempo, but you'll work with what he wants to give you.

At least that's what you're thinking when suddenly you feel the bed shifting away from you and your world upended when Eddie flips you over onto your hands and knees. You scramble for purchase against the sheets and yelp in surprise, but you don't even have a second to get situated before Eddie is dragging you back against him by your hips.

"Gonna do so good for me, aren't you baby?" Eddie asks, deep and low from behind you. His voice makes you shiver, as does his hand which slides from between your shoulder blades, down the line of your spine, ultimately delivering a light slap that has your ass bouncing. He groans at the visual of his own making, gripping your hips with two hands again. "Fuck that's the ticket right there, huh?"

"Let me be good for you - oh!" You start off trying to incite him to finally do something but break off in a gasp when his cock begins sliding through your pussy lips, getting your slick all over his hardened length. The tip prods your clit and you buckle inward, so turned on and edged from the events of the last few hours. Eddie laughs and the sound goes straight to your core.

"My little wife that sensitive? Worked yourself up so much for me, huh sweetheart?"

The whimpering inhale to take in in response to that statement makes his cock pulse.

"Need you, Eddie," you whisper. Eddie hums behind you before pushing at your hip to flip you over once again. You're more disoriented this time, even more so when Eddie moves from his place between your thighs in order to straddle your stomach.

You gaze at him above you from your new position on your back and...fuck it is glorious. You try to make grabby hands at him but he ignores you, leaning over instead to the nightstand where you'd left his other pre-rolled joint. He lights it and resituates himself over you, taking a deep drag and dropping his head back as he holds the smoke deep in his lungs while stroking his cock over you with his free hand.

"Jesus Christ..." you mutter to yourself at the debaucherous image above you. You lift up onto your elbows to get closer and he rolls his head back toward you, opening his eyes half mast to blow smoke in your direction. When the cloud clears you see his lazy grin, red-rimmed eyes sweeping up and down your figure.

"This do it for ya?" he asks, playfully. You nod forcefully, unable to take your eyes off the head of his angry red cock disappearing and reappearing in his fist. The slide is loud and fast and wet. Wet from your own slick, your realize with a lurch of your stomach. Fuck you want him inside you. Reaching out a hand towards him, you tear your gaze away from his dick and bring it back up to his overly amused face.

"Can I help?" you ask, way too innocently for the context of the situation. Eddie pretends to mull it over, joint elevated in his free hand as his tongue slides over his teeth.

"Yeah, I think there's something you can do..." he says vaguely. You're unsure of the implications until he moves forward, pushing the straps of your lingerie off your arms, and it is suddenly abundantly clear what he is angling for - and you couldn't be more excited.

As Eddie brings the underside of his cock to rest against your sternum, you lift your breasts up on either side to sandwich his length between. Eddie watches you from above, his grin indicating how proud he is that you're playing along so quickly.

"There you go, that's perfect. Now could you just - oh fuck." Without him even having to complete the request, you spit on his cock, adding to the wetness still present from your slick, reaching up and spreading it over his erection in a way that has him biting his lip in seconds. "Look at you, knowing just what I need."

You smile up at him and push your breasts together again, moving slightly to let him feel the drag of your plush skin against him. Eddie places the joint back between his lips and leans forward to grip your shoulders for leverage. This allows him to fuck his hips back and forth, creating the friction he was seeking.

Though this act doesn't directly stimulate any of your erogenous zones specifically, the sounds it pulls from his lips and the look on his crumpled face as he watches what you're letting him do to you - it's got your pussy practically weeping.

"You're so fucking hot, princess," Eddie says around the joint before taking one last long hit and reaching over to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. With both his hands free, he returns to you with renewed attention, dropping his palms to circle lightly over your nipples. Your eyes widen at the stimulation and Eddie grins. "Like it when I fuck your tits?"

"Yes," you breathe out in response immediately.

Eddie pinches your nipples as a reward and your hips stutter upwards into nothing behind him. Eddie laughs and begins thrusting a bit harder, wrapping his big hands around your smaller ones to help crush your tits even tighter around his cock.

"Fuckin' yeah you do. My perfect girl. Oh shit, just look at you," he practically grunts. You stare heart eyes up at him, watching him take pleasure from your flesh in the most selfish way while still somehow making you feel like you're god's gift to earth. The image of him - eyes blown black and lips red and swollen from biting as his cock moves in the valley of your breasts - has you letting out an unfiltered moan. Eddie's brow twists in mock sympathy. "Need something, princess?"

Your hips buck again and Eddie chuckles, reaching a hand behind himself and down between your legs to play with you where you need him most. He jaw drops at the feeling of your excessive arousal.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're soaked. I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he frowns down at you in faux commiseration. You shake your head but your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his fingers against your clit.

"No this is - oh. This is about y-you," you respond, squeezing your breasts tighter to try and get him to fuck them faster. Eddie ignores your statement and instead sinks a two fingers into your heat. Your body tightens and your eyes slam shut. The feeling of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit have you neglecting your goal and after a few minutes your hands drop entirely from your breasts in favor of fisting the sheets. Eddie's dick slides up and down your slicked sternum along to the rocking of your body. Watching it rub against your wet skin, watching your tits bounce freely while your cunt squelches loudly around the in and out motions of his fingers - it all has Eddie feeling higher than any strain ever could.

After a few minutes more of the best show Eddie's ever seen in his life, he eases his fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, pulling the bottom one out from between your teeth. The action has you opening your dazed eyes to peer up at him, breathless.

"Let's take care of that pretty pussy now, alright?" Eddie prompts, easing himself back to sit on the bed between your legs. You seize the moment, however, and disentangle yourself from him, dropping down to take his cock in your mouth. Eddie's hands immediately find your hair and he chokes on air. "Hey, hey, stop that, I said we're taking care of you."

"This is what I want," you try to say, but your mouth is a little preoccupied with his cock. You run your tongue up the vein you love so much. You let his fat tip tap the back of your throat, gagging eagerly when you feel his hips press forward just that tiny bit more as he loses himself in the feeling of you.

It's messy. Absolutely filthy, exactly how you like it. Exactly how you know he likes it. With your hands on his balls and elbows and knees digging into the mattress, you arch your back and make sure your ass sticks up that much more with each bob of your head. Eddie certainly takes note. You know because eventually his hand slides back to get a big handful of one of your cheeks before raining down a slap on your backside that has you slamming forward and choking on his length even more. Your eyes water and your throat burns. The guttural moan he lets out in response, however, is priceless.

You're more than a little disappointed when he pulls you off of him finally, holding you back with his hands under your arms like you're a child he doesn't trust to behave correctly.

"Now are you going to let me fuck you or not?" he asks, his voice absurdly tired as if he's suffered some great inconvenience.

You feel inhibition-less, both from your nice high and the result of being absolutely cock drunk at this point, so you giggle and draw a line down from his jaw, over his neck and clavicle, and down to circle one of his nipples.

"You've already fucked me," you tease with a voice hoarse from his dick. You lean forward in spite of his hold on you and lick a stripe from peck to peck, kitten licking his other nipple and up the expanse of his tattoo. "In two different ways, actually."

Eddie, now fully riled up and aching, has had enough of your teasing (though to be fair he's done much worse to you so far today). He pulls you back into sitting position and grips your jaw lightly to force your roving eyes to focus on his.

"I want to fuck you properly now," he enunciates dramatically. You nod his grip and he nods along with you, trying to hide the grin growing on his lips. "What'll it be? Back or hands and knees?"

Before he's even finished asking, though, you've pulled out of his light grasp and scrambled around on the bed, dropping to your forearms and presenting your ass to him. Eddie groans, deep and low, and squeezes at your hips and waist almost too tightly. Almost. Instead you moan at the bruising feeling and wiggle your ass to beg for more.

The sight of you in front of him, primed and ready and all covered in lace has Eddie's mouth positively watering. He realizes, however, that you're still trussed up in your lingerie. The straps are down and your tits are out, and he'd moved the gusset of your panties to the side to finger you, but there are still parts of your body obscured by fabric. And that just doesn't sit right with him.

There are a few ties in the back that he attempts to fidget with, but his impatience gets the better of him after just a few moments. He grips two handfuls of the material and wrenches the body suit in two, straight down the middle.

"Eddie!" you chastise, high and loud. It ends on an incredulous laugh because, regardless of how absurd and immature the action was, it's also incredibly hot. "This was supposed to be a birthday present for you!"

"Well fuck, baby. I had to unwrap it first, jeez," Eddie laughs right back. He pulls the tattered remains of the ruined garment off, tossing it away from the bed, before grabbing you by the front of your thighs and slamming your body back against him. The two of you let out twin moans at the impact. His cock slides around in your slick for a moment, but you're no longer waiting around. You reach down and guide him inside you without any further preamble.

The stretch is still immense, regardless of the excessive foreplay. He's always been a lot to take, and your body is somehow always still shocked by his sheer size. But Eddie anticipates this, of course, so his finger is on your clit within seconds, working you through the initial ache and bringing you quickly into a throbbing, expectant pleasure.

"This pussy's been waiting for me, hasn't she," Eddie whispers right in your ear. His chest is on your back as his hips begin rolling, bringing him in and out of you.

"N-needed you for so long, Eddie," you whimper, cheek pressing into the sheets. Eddie tsks and places kisses to the base of your neck and shoulders.

"I know, baby. You've been so good, waiting for me to come home and take care of you."

“Always waiting for you to come home,” you whimper. Eddie knows it’s just part of the role play. He knows you have work and your own hobbies and friends and a life on top of the one you share with him. Realistically you aren’t sitting around at home waiting for him. But the memory of your voice so sweetly begging him on the phone and the memory of you greeting him at the door in lingerie mixes with the sensory overload he’s experiencing inside you. It makes his cock twitch and his fingers grip your waist with a bruising pressure that you love.

“I know, princess,” he hums, dropping down over you again so that his chest is to your back, hands propping him up on the mattress on either side of you. With one hand Eddie pulls your hair aside so he can pepper light kisses to the back of your neck. A stark contrast to the unforgiving, pendulous thrust of his hips.

“Maybe I should just keep you here,” he says breathlessly after a few minutes that are silent save for the wet slap of skin on skin. He feels you shudder beneath him and continues, lips catching your earlobe. “Keep you naked and wet and waiting on this bed for me at all times. Filled with my cum. Covered in it.”

You inhale sharply at his words and your lips pull into a dramatic o. Eddie feels you clench around him and is more than aware of what this is doing to you.

So of course he continues.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be my pretty little thing?”

You nod your head erratically into the mattress, practically beside yourself at this point. It’s exactly what you want, at least for the purposes of this fantasy. The weight of Eddie against you and the steady way his cock pummels that sweet spot inside you has your eyes rolling back in your head as your lids drop. It has your toes curling and your brain going fuzzy, like static with an untuned radio station. Every nerve ending in your body has evaporated save for the ones between your thighs which receive all of the attention they could ever need.

“Tell me you’re mine, baby,” Eddie says abruptly. Your hazy mind struggles to comprehend his words but understanding seeps through, as does the memory that for as much as you love praise, your man feeds off it as well.

“I’m yours, Eddie Munson,” you gasp, the words twisting in a whine. His finger has found your clit again and it’s just unfair how ducking good it feels. You arch your back into the feeling, widening your legs to encourage him even deeper. The sight and your words has Eddie gritting his teeth.

“Oh fuck this,” he says suddenly, abruptly pulling out and flipping you onto your back. The sudden motion and the unwelcome emptiness has you dazed and your stare at the ceiling in confusion, blind to the way Eddie adjusts you. He lifts your hips up to slide a pillow under the small of your back, elevating you and extending your legs. In this new position the backs of your thighs meet the tops of his, your knees hooking on his hips while his knees dig into the mattress.

Hearing a shick shick shick sound that doesn’t correspond with the feeling of his dick re-entering you is both disorienting and upsetting, so you tip your chin to your chest in an effort to get a glimpse of him tugging on his slicked cock. However, that’s the exact moment that Eddie leans over you and fills your field of vision with his beautiful face.

“Sorry, princess. Needed to see your eyes while you said you were mine.” His words are so sweet, but he subverts the sweetness by choosing that exact moment to breach your entrance again.

“Oh god. Eddie - oh.” Your eyes slam shut to keep from crossing while you struggle up fathom the deliciousness of his first inward thrust. When his rhythm picks up, however, you feel his big warm palm press against your cheek before giving it a feather light tap to gain your attention.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Eddie coos. You do as he says, squinting up at him to take in his massive, pleased smile. His hair is stuck to his temples, whether still wet from the shower or sweaty from exertion you’re unsure. All you are sure of is that fact that he is gorgeous. His eyes that shine down on you with so much love, the dimples that sink into his cheek to make space for his joy, his lips that move as they say your name. The whole picture has your brain screaming mine mine mine mine.

“That’s right, pretty girl, all yours,” Eddie agrees with a smirk. Your brain and drug addled brain must have caused you to speak your thoughts out loud but you can’t bring it in you to care. Not when Eddie is hoisting you up even higher against his elevated lap, causing your back to arch off the bed, your head and shoulders pressing down against the mattress for leverage as you bounce in his grasp.

“Jesus Christ, I want it. I want it, I w-want it Eddie…” You’re positively rambling now, scrabbling against the sheets for purchase. Seeking out your organs with legs that shake as the squeeze against Eddie’s narrow hips.

“And I want you. Wanna fuck you on the washing machine. Bend you over the - fuck - the kitchen counter while you wear one of those aprons and nothing else.” If you’re rambling, so is he. He’s so far gone in the fantasy at this point, so overwhelmed by everything he never thought he, the town freak, could want let alone have, in any capacity.

The gravel tone of his voice and the fucked out look on his face are what do you in ultimately. You squeeze down on his cock and cry out, wide eyes blind with pleasure and fingernails digging into any part of him you can reach.

“Oh god, oh Eddie!”

“Fucking shit, princess. You’re so tight, that’s - fuck!” Eddie has lost all intelligibility at this point. But that’s just fine by you, because you’re miles high now. Body tingling and seizing and floating, both from the weed and the strength of your climax.

You fall boneless back to the bed and register the fact that Eddie’s still teetering on the brink, every muscle tensed and shaking as he chases satisfaction. Your body is pushed higher up the bed with each of his escalating, punishing thrusts. He seems lost, and that’s what gives you the instinct to ground him.

Grabbing at his neck and shoulders, you pull Eddie down to you, causing him to catch himself on the mattress on either side of your head while you kiss him. It’s extremely one sided with his fat gone he is and with how much energy he has focused on pistoning into your soaked pussy. But it feels good nonetheless and you know it’s doing something for you to slide your tongue into his slack jawed mouth because it causes him to let out a groan from deep in his chest.

When you pull away you place your hands on both sides of his face and hold him there to make eye contact. His gaze is incredibly unfocused, and his brow is twisted in agony, but you keep the eye contact and make sure to enunciate when you speak.

“I’m yours, Eddie Munson,” you repeat the earlier sentiment, this time staring straight into his soul. Eddie’s entire body convulses then, just like clock work, and he buries his face into your neck and clings to you while hot ropes of his cum paint your walls. You hold him through it, even as his hips continue to rock. “There we go. That’s it.”

It takes him several moments to come back to earth, aided in his return only by the gentle feeling of your hands caressing his back and sliding through his hair. He hums into your neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin there before finally pulling back to look at you.

Your kiss swollen lips are still wet. Your eyes are much to bright and your hair is positively bedraggled. All surefire proof that you have been well and thoroughly debauched. Pride swells in his chest at the sight, but it also swells in his dick, causing it to twitch inside you in spite of softening, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. Your features settle back into a relaxed smile though and Eddie kisses beneath your eye.

“That do it for you, baby?” he asks, voice ridiculously smug. You reward him with a massive smile, but your shrug throws him.

“Yeah, but we’re just getting started handsome. We have the rest of the day. Thought you wanted to keep me in your bed, filled and covered in cum?”

A deep blush stains Eddie’s cheeks and chest as you quote the dirty talk he’d spewed in a moment of passion. But, not one to back down from a challenge, he pulls his softened cock out of you slowly, pleased by the way your smirk crumples st the loss.

“You’re right, princess,” Eddie says with a grin. He drags the reddened head of his cock up from your slit over your pubic bone and to your lower belly, sure to catch it on your clit on the way up to elicit a gasp from you. He smears the mixture of your cum and his there on your belly before leaning down and licking a stripe up through the mess that has you clenching around nothing.

When Eddie looks up to find you gazing at him with mooning eyes, he takes pity on you and leans back up for a kiss. A sweaty, salty, cum-flavored kiss that’s everything you, the freak’s lover and a freak in her own right, could ever want.

It doesn’t take long before wandering hands and massaging tongues lead you to feel something stiff digging into your hip again. You reach down and graze your fingers over his leaking tip and bite your lip.

“Make me yours again, handsome, and if I can still walk afterwards I’ll make you dinner.”

Eddie shakes his head deviously at your proposal.

“We’ll be having take out.”

You frown up at him.

“But I thought you like it when I make dinner,” you begin to argue, but then you’re crying out because Eddie sheaths himself back inside you with one thrust. Your pliant, wet, satiated body welcomes him without protest this time. Eddie grasps at your curves and nudges his nose against yours before moving.

“I do love it when you make dinner, baby. But the way I intend on fucking you, you sure as hell won’t be able to walk tonight. That’s a promise.”

And your Eddie is a man of his word.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed ♥️

[russellsppttemplates]

This drawing is for you (Lando Norris)

Matilda already has her love language, handing out her drawings to people

Note: english is not my first language. Look who showed up, hm? Honestly, the last two weeks have been a bit all over the place and I've been meaning to post way more than what I actually have

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Mummy?", you heard your daughter call for you, walking to her playroom since you assumed that's where she was, "yes, baby?", you made your presence known.

"Can we stop by the stationery shop when we go and pick daddy up from work, please? My colouring pencils are getting too small", she showed you a few examples, the colours you recognised from having a big presence in her drawings belonging to pencils that you were barely able to hold in your hands yourself.

"Of course, Tilly", you smiled, "speaking of which, we have to leave soon. Are you almost finished with your drawing?", you wondered, "yes, mummy, I just need to finish colouring in the sun", she mused, grabbing the tiny yellow pencil and carrying on with her work.

When she finished, she set the pencil down, stopping in the bathroom to wash her hands and heading to the door to meet you, "hold your sleeves", you nudged as she held on the hems while you put on her jacket, not wanting her to let the clothes climb up her arms and be uncomfortable.

"Let's go, mummy!", she cheered, walking downs the stairs into the garage so you could get in the car and drive to the factory.

As you were driving, your husband called, "hello, love! We're already in the car on our way to get you, we're going to stop by the shop to buy some colouring pencils for Tilly so we don't have to wait too long for you", you said, turning on the blinker once you faced the junction.

"Hi daddy!", Matilda spoke loudly, hoping her could hear her like she heard him, "How are my favourite girls today? Actually, I was calling because the meeting ended early and I'm ready whenever you want to pick me up", Lando voiced as you saw your daughter smile from her spot in the back of the car, "you can come with us to the shop, then!", she said excitedly.

"That's a great idea, love! Me and Matilda will go and pick you up first, then! We're ten, maybe fifteen minutes out, depends on how traffic is, it looks okay, though", you muttered, finding it easy so far to drive to the factory.

"Okay, I'll be waiting for you! I love you, girls! Drive safe!", he said before ending the call, Matilda clapping her hands excitedly at the prospect of seeing her father earlier than expected.

By the time you arrived at the factory, Matilda had listed all of the materials she would like to get so her drawings would be pretty. Parking the car, you got out, putting on your coat as you walked to open Matilda's door, "let's go, Matilda!", you smiled, unbuckling her belt and making sure she was cozy and warm to face the cold end of the day temperatures.

Everyone in the factory knew you and your little one, so they would have at you, knowing they would have a difficult time at getting many words out of your little girl, usually a sweet smile, a wave and a small and quiet "hi" before she held onto your legs and hid her face there.

Lando was laughing loudly, so it was easy to know that as soon as you crossed that corner, you'd find your husband along with one of his mechanics and engineers.

Matilda smiled as she saw her daddy, releasing the grip she had on your hand, but keeping them laced until Lando and her locked eyes, "hello, my loves!", Lando said, crouching down so his daughter could finally unlace her hand from yours and run up to him, hugging him and allowing him to pick her up so she could kiss his cheek, "Hi, daddy", she whispered in his ear.

Even though there were only two other people beside her parents, she was still shy as they greeted her, "Hello!", they said as she waved, smiling before hiding her face on her father's neck.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Goodbye Y/N, bye-bye Matilda!", they said as they went the opposite direction, you and Lando bidding goodbye whenever you encountered someone until you were in the parking lot, ready to get in the car.

"Do you want to drive?", you asked your husband despite already knowing the answer. He hated not being in control of the situation if he could, so driving his family around was non negotiable most times, only sitting as a passenger when he was very tired.

Buckling Matilda back in her seat and kissing her forehead, you got into the car yourself as your husband drove to the usual shop where you got your daughter's art supplies and your own whenever your work required materials.

"Do you already know what you want to get, babygirl?", Lando asked as the three of you walked inside the shop. It was unusually quiet for this time of the day, and a small part of Matilda was happy because she could go up to the shelves and drawers she already knew had what she needed without having to ask her parents for help in moving along the shop.

After grabbing the supplies she needed, she took them to the young woman at the front so her parents could pay for it, "have a nice day, Matilda! I'm sure your works of art will be beautiful!", she said. You and your family were regular costumers, so they had already grown to know your name and hers, so they had managed to get in the small group of people that were not family and friends and Matilda didn't feel to shy with.

"Bye-bye, have a nice day, too!", she waved sweetly before running up to her daddy, "very good, Matilda, I'm very proud of you for that!", he said, kissing her cheek and walking along with you to the car.

.

The McLaren unit was working on full speed as you arrived, coffees and other drinks being served as guests arrived or workers carried on with their day, you opting to go to the track, along with Matilda, after the initial morning rush so you wouldn't have to deal with too many people at once.

"Do you want to to go to daddy's room or stay here?", you questioned her, "here in the lounge", she replied as you walked to one of the tables near the windows so you could be near the sunlight that had graced the weekend and be a little further away from the buzz.

"Do you want to draw with me, mummy?", she offered once she was comfortably sitting on the chair, taking her pencil case from her backpack along with the blank sheets of paper.

"Sure, love! Let me just text daddy so he knows where we are when he finishes his meeting", you smiled, grabbing your phone to text Lando before setting it down and grabbing the things you needed.

"Are you drawing daddy's car?", Matilda asked sweetly as she took a peek at your work, "I am! Do you think it's pretty?", she nodded, "but not as pretty as yours, I love your butterfly", you complimented.

As she was finishing colouring in the wings, one of the girls from the PR team came to greet you, "Y/N, Matilda! It's been a while since I saw you around!", she cheered, kissing each of your cheeks as you did the same to her before she noticed your daughter looking at her, "hello", she said in her usual quiet tone.

As you spoke with the young woman, your daughter carefully folded the paper and ripped it by the crease she had made so she could separate the small drawing from the rest of the plain paper.

"Alright, girls! I'll see you later!", she said as someone called her name, presumably with a task for her to do.

"You can have this one if you'd like", Matilda spoke, showing her the drawing, "really, babygirl? Thank you so much, I'm so flattered!", she said, accepting it and keeping it safe in her notebook, "I'll keep it here until I can get home and put it in my wall, okay?", she nodded as your little girl blushed at the attention, nodding too.

.

Because the practice session was being used as the scheduled opportunity for the reserve driver to do a few laps on the track, Oscar joined you and Matilda as you looked over the cars on track.

"I need to go to the bathroom. Do you also need to go, Tilly?", you asked your daughter, earning a head shake no, "I'm good, mummy", she said, going back to colouring in.

Excusing yourself after Oscar assured he'd keep her company, Matilda was quick to silently offer her crayons to the Australian man along with her colouring book.

"Where are Lily and Lucas?", she asked for her usual companions for the weekend. They would often be together so you and Lily could catch up while the kids entertained themselves in eachother's company.

"They stayed back home this weekend", Oscar explained, "but they told me they wish they were here. I think they're coming to Silverstone, so we will all be together then", he smiled as she gave him a small smile, too, noddinh in agreement and taking out her new glitter pens.

They start colouring and not saying much, only asking eachother to please hand them a crayon or pen the other couldn't reach or if the drawing looked good. Matilda felt understood by him, so it was no surprise that, besides her family, he was the person she felt the most comfortable with spending time in the paddock.

.

"Where's daddy taking you, little miss?", you asked as you saw Lando change the t-shirt your daughter was wearing. Under her dungarees, she now had an orange McLaren t-shirt, matching her father as he held her on his hip, "we're going to hand in drawings I made, and I didn't want to do it alone, and since you said you were feeling tired, daddy said he would take me", she smiled, kissing your cheek when you got up to kiss your husband's lips and her forehead.

"You sit tight, alright baby?", Lando urged, "me and Tilly want you to be well rested when the time comes to watch the race", he kissed your forehead. You hadn't slept that well the night before, so when Matilda had built her collection of gifts, she didn't want to tire you out more.

Leaving the hospitality, Lando walked with Matilda, asking her where she wanted to go first, "Can we find uncle Seb first? Mummy and I saw him when we arrived, but there were a lot of people near him so we said we'd see him later", she reasoned as Lando quickly searched for the retired German driver, "there he is, love", he pointed, walking in his direction.

Despite her initial confidence, Matilda felt shy as everyone's eyes landed on her and her father, cooing at the sight of them matching and the fact that little Norris had showed up, too.

"Hello, Matilda! How are you?", Sebastian asked, smiling at the duo as she retreated, hiding her face on his neck. Her backpack was open as Lando pulled the art pieces out.

"Didn't you want to give something to Sebastian, gorgeous girl?", Lando encouraged, kissing her cheek sweetly and giving her time.

"The bee one, daddy", Matilda whispered against his neck where she kept hhalf of her face hidden as Lando flickered the drawings, finding the one she meant.

"Is this for me? Thank you, Matilda, this is very nice!", Sebastian said warmly, making he little girl smile at him.

"Who's next?", Lando asked, "Charles, I made a drawing for him with a sea, because he lives in Monaco", she reasoned.

.

"And on the screens now we can see the McLaren garage this afternoon, where Lando Norris has his little one and his wife here this weekend!", Natalie said looking at the screen along with Naomi.

"That's true! Little Matilda has been in the paddock with her parents this whole weekend, and yesterday I had the privilege of seeing the cutest scene! She was hiding behind Lando's legs, but she kept holding some of the drawings until she found the people she wanted to give them to!", Naomi added, "she had one for Sebastian, for Charles, and she also shared some with the McLaren crew, too!

"And when I was interviewing Oscar this morning, Matilda walked closer to us and asked for his help to get the drawing she made of me - I have it right here, let me show you! - and this is the cutest thing ever! I have an orange suit - because of papaya, she said -, and my braids look so good with this glittery accent, see?", she showed Natalie as she nodded, "she's usually a very quiet little one, but she's an artist for sure. She takes after her mummy, so I've heard", she smiled into the camera.

"Yet, this morning, when me and the crew were deciding where to go first, we caught a father-daughter that made our hearts melt, take a look in the screens!", Natalie finished.

"Is it silly, Matilda?", Lando tried, seeing his daughter give him a full belly laugh as he drew a crocodile with rain boots, "crocodiles don't need rain boots, daddy! They can swim and walk all the same!", she giggled, delighting the people who were watching and hearing her laugh. "Well, maybe I should give him some floaties, too! Should I make him pink ones like yours?", he tried, earning another set of giggles out of his little girl.

[mirrrorballs]

swear to be overdramatic and true to my, lover.

pairing / opla!roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings / nothing much just an established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, the normal couple banter, and a first kiss trope that makes me all mush.

synopsis / as the straw hat crew docks at an island, everyone decides to give the place a little tour. as you and zoro are strolling around the area, you stumble across an old photobooth. after a bit of banter, stolen glances, and subconscious smiles, a first kiss ensues.

author's note / OPLA ZORO IS MY NEW FIXATION AHH this prompt just popped into my head last night and it was too cute to not put into writing. so here it is!!

The sun was painted a gorgeous shade of orange as the straw hats finally docked on a new island.

"Alright, crew!" their captain's cheery voice boomed as he clasped his two hands together, calling everyone's attention. "Sanji and I will be looking for supplies and ingredients to last us the next few weeks since we're running out. So, take this time to tour around the island for a while." Luffy said with a smile, placing his hands on either sides of his waist.

Nami simply nodded and shrugged, Usopp excitedly jumped from his position by the deck, and Zoro made his way over to you.

Noticing your boyfriend walking towards you, a smile crept up your face as you walked over to meet him halfway.

Once you were within arms' reach, Zoro took your hands in his. Turns out the smile you wore was contagious, a similar one appeared on his face as he looked at you intently. Gosh, how this poker-faced and stoic man turned into putty because of you.

"Hi" he said, breaking the moment of comfortable silence you two had. Your smile grew wider. "Hi yourself," you replied, lightly swinging your interlocked hands back and forth.

Zoro tore his gaze away from you for a moment to see that the rest of the crew started going down the ship. He turned his head back to you. "We should probably follow suit." he said, tilting his head to gesture to the people who were now on the dock. You nodded lightly and Zoro took it as his signal to tug you along with him to the stairs, both of you still having a hand connected.

You both strolled around the streets, taking the less crowded paths in order to remain unnoticed. The bounty over the straw hats' heads more than enough of a reminder for you both to remain cautious.

"Where do you think we should go?" you asked as you turned to face Zoro. He turned to you and shrugged. "Anywhere is fine, you choose." he said. I want what you want, he thought but chose to leave it out.

Another comfortable silence consumed you both before a small booth with a velvet blue curtain for an entrance caused you to halt. 'Photobooth', the illuminated sign read.

Zoro realized you weren't by his side anymore and looked back to see you looking at something. He followed your gaze until his eyes landed on the booth.

He walked back towards you. "Oh, no. Yeah, no." he said while shaking his head. You scoffed. "Why not? You said I could choose!" you countered with a slightly offended tone.

"Tiny booth in an almost abandoned looking street. It could be some sort of marine, enemy, or pirate hunter prop with a hidden camera or microphone inside." he said confidently, almost sounding proud of his oh-so-smart conclusion.

This guy can't be serious, you thought. "Zoro, love, the apple of my eye. You know I really do appreciate your input on things, but I really don't think any of the people you mentioned would use a photobooth as a prop. Vicious pirates don't just snap photos for fun. And secondly, we're on a tiny little island that you can barely see on a map, any enemies wouldn't just expect us to be here." you replied, holding back a giggle.

Zoro's eyes widened and he cleared his throat. You were right, but he was far too proud to admit that. So he continued the debate.

"Well, Buggy's ear was in Luffy's hat as a spy mechanism. Something similar could occur." the man replied defensively to which you just raised an eyebrow.

"The photo could fly away and someone could see our faces and recognize us from the wanted posters. Next thing you know we have ships on our tail." he continued but all you did was tilt your head and cross your arms, urging him to go on with his desperate attempt at a debate.

"I don't like having my picture taken." he said as a last resort, ideas for any more replies flying out of his head.

"Okay then, I'll just take photos on my own." you shrugged and started walking towards the booth.

Zoro gulped, torn between his pride and a sweet moment with you. "Fine by me." he choked out.

You rolled your eyes before turning around to face him with a pout.

"Seriously? That didn't work on you?" you huffed. Zoro had to hold back a smile at your childish attitude.

Your boyfriend simply smirked and shrugged. "What can I say? I like to stick with my stand." he said.

You walked forward, only a step or two serving as a divider. Your pout morphed into a grin as you giggled, taking his hands in yours.

"Come on, please? For me? We're always at sea and when we're not we don't have a lot of memories like this together." you said. Gaze shifting from your intertwined hands to his face.

His normally hard gaze softened as your eyes met. The way you always looked at him so lovingly that it made his heart swell it almost feels like it's about to pop out of his chest.

Zoro smiled softly, as he rubbed his thumb against your hand. How could he say no to you?

"If it's that important to you, then I don't see why not." he said. If possible, your smile grew even wider as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

The action slightly startling the mosshead as he stumbled a few steps back before wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as realization hit that you were hugging him.

"Thank you." you said. Zoro tightened his hug before replying with, "Any time."

You pulled away a moment after and started dragging him towards the booth.

You pushed the blue curtain to the side before stepping inside the rather cramped photobooth and taking a seat. Zoro quickly following the action.

You fumbled through your pocket with furrowed brows in search of a few berry. Holding up the coins in front of you triumphantly a few moments after.

Zoro observed you as you pushed the coins through the slot and pressed the button to start.

The screen on the left side came to life and you could finally see what the camera could. The countdown started.

You turned your head to see Zoro looking rather confused as he stared at the camera with pursed lips and slightly furrowed brows. You smiled at the man next to you.

Snap!

The sound signaled that the first photo was taken, pulling your attention back to the camera. The second countdown started.

You took a quick second to fix yourself for the photo, tucking pieces of hair behind your ear before flashing a picture-ready smile for the camera.

Unbeknownst to you, it was Zoro giving you a look of awe, admiration, and love this time. A small smile visible on his face. You just had that effect on him.

Snap!

The next photo was taken. Zoro turned back to the camera at the sound. The third countdown began.

You let out a contented sigh. You turned to face Zoro with a small grin. "Thank you, again." you said before pressing your lips to his cheek, planting a small kiss.

Snap!

The third photo was shot, and Zoro was grateful the photos would be in black and white because he sure didn't want anyone else seeing his shocked face and flushed cheeks. The last countdown started.

Zoro didn't know what came over him. If it was the atmosphere or the current happening. But he was most definitely sure that whatever the reason was, it circled around you. He wouldn't admit it but the moment was perfect to him. You were perfect.

He just found himself pulling you by the back of your neck and pressing his lips against yours.

The action shocked you for a second. But after a moment you closed your eyes and leaned into the kiss. It was the first one you two shared, and sharing it in this moment couldn't have been more perfect.

Snap!

The last photo was shot, though the sound went unnoticed by the two of you this time. Only pulling away after a few more seconds.

You both stayed like that for a while. Staring deeply into each other's eyes. His hand gripping yours that was placed on your lap. Both you and Zoro smiling at each other like love drunk idiots.

The two of you only snapped back to reality after hearing the sound of the photo strip bring printed outside.

You pulled away from Zoro, swiftly moving to the exterior of the booth in anticipation of seeing the pictures. Zoro followed after you almost immediately.

Once the photo strip was fully printed, you quickly grabbed it as your eyes scanned each picture. A smile graced your lips as your index finger traced every one of them, pausing at the very last one.

"You like it?" Zoro asked. You turned to face him. Like is an understatement, you thought. "I love it." you said softly but whole heartedly.

Zoro couldn't help but give you a hearty grin. You turned your attention back to the photo strip in your hand. "It's a shame we only have one copy." you mumbled, but loud enough for Zoro to hear.

"You're right" he replied, nodding. He took a step closer to you. "Both of us having copies would've been nice." he continued, glancing at the pictures. He smiled at this.

"If you want to keep it, it's fine!" you said cheerfully, holding the strip out for him even though you badly wanted it for yourself.

Zoro laughed at this and pushed your hand back gently.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we recreate it instead?" he said with a grin that you simply mirrored.

And so you did.

julia speaks !

SCREAMINGG these two are so cute. This turned out pretty long, but it's not too shabby hehe. Hope you enjoyed :)!!

[cy-cyborg]

It will never not be frustrating to me that amputees appear in fiction ALL. THE. TIME. and yet they're almost never acknowledged as such. The Cyberpunk genre is especially guilty of this: amputees and prosthetics becoming a normalised part of life are a defining part of the genre/aesthetic and yet no one even consults with any amputees about how we get represented there. Most writers in those genres don't even consider that giving your characters cybernetic arms and legs means they're an amputee.

CW: Ableism, dehumanisation

This makes it REALLY uncomfortable to engage with stories in the genre because another common aspect of cyberpunk is the idea of losing yourself and becoming something distinctly not-human anymore because you have too many cybernetic augmentations/implants. Shadowrun even has mechanics for this, which state if you get too many prosthetics, which is what cybernetics are 9 times out of 10, your character becomes a monster. These mechanics and discussions surrounding "how many robot bits make you not human anymore" are really, really uncomfortable when you remember this isn't something that's unique to a far-off future setting. Those people you're discussing the humanity of already exist. They're called amputees. If you reframe the question as "how many amputations can you have before you stop being a person" I hope you can see why an amputee like myself is not going to feel safe around you or in your fandoms.

And it's a shame, because I REALLY want to like Cyberpunk. I really, honestly do. I love the aesthetics, I love the idea of big corporations being the villains and the anti-capitalism at the heart of the genre, and I love the idea of prosthetics being not only destigmatised, but desirable. When written from a disability-inclusive lense, it honestly has the potential to be an incredibly uplifting and empowering genre. but as the genre stands right now, it's actively hostile to the very folks who are usually the stars of its stories: amputees, all because people just refuse to acknowledge us.

Cyberpunk isn't the only genre guilty of this, it's common all throughout sci-fi as a whole, but Cyberpunk is the only one where it starts becoming a serious issue due to its rampant dehumanisation of a real group of people. In other sci-fi settings, it's just kind of annoying and while it can be a form of erasure, it's not usually harmful, just...frustrating. Fantasy does it on occasion too, think pirates with a hook and a peg leg, but nowhere near as much.

If you, as an author or creator, use any of these words to describe a character or their tech in a sci-fi setting:

cybernetics/cybernetic enhancements

bionics

robot limbs

cyborgs

augmentations

You are probably writing an amputee. Please, at the very least, acknowledge it, and be mindful that those are real people who actually exist, not just a fantasy group you can speculate about.

edit:

I originally posted this article on my old Tumblr account and lot of people commented/reblogged to tell me that originally in cyberpunk, the "less human the more robot bits you have" only applied to people who opted for their limbs to be replaced by cybernetics, because it was seen as "renting out your body to corporations for money" but people who had to get cybernetics out of necessity weren't impacted. The thing is though, I really don't think that makes it better, for a few reasons. For one, where do you draw the line at "opting" to get a cybernetic prosthetic? This isn't a black and white thing, even in real life. Most amputations are done out of necessity, but there are situations where it's not the only option, just the best one. Talking from personal experience, I lost both my legs below the knee as a baby, that was a pretty clear cut case, I had a blood infection and gangrene and they had to act fast. But the infection caused lasting side effects and impacted my physical body's development and growth. By the time I got to my early 20's it was causing a lot of pain in my right leg, in my knee specifically, and when I got a bone infection in the end of that stump, I chose to have the whole thing amputated up to the knee. They only needed to take a few inches off the end of my stump, but I asked them to go higher, because of the ongoing issues in that knee, issues that would have been made worse by the shortening of the leg. I choose to remove the whole thing, knowing the joint was degrading and I probably would have lost it later in life anyway. Even if it was salvageable, it would mean much more surgery, and I've had enough of those. A boy I played wheelchair basketball with was born with a partially formed leg, it was half the size of his other leg and he wasn't able to use it al all, it was just dead weight, so he opted to get it amputated too for convenience and so he could use a prosthetic on that side. I worked with a girl who's hand didn't form properly in the womb, resulting in a normal palm, but tiny "finger nubs" (her words) with no bones inside. They weren't actively harming her usually, but she opted to get them and the top of her palm amputated after an incident at work where we were tying balloons and one of her nubs got stuck in the knot. She decided to get them amputated because it meant accidents like that would be less likely, and she could use a prosthetic more comfortably. All 3 of these are considered "optional" amputations, so would people like us be penalised in your setting? does it make sense that the technology in your setting can tell the difference, or that corporations would care about the how and why? Even stepping away from medical grey areas, if your character opts for a cybernetic arm because the corporations will financially reward her, and she's struggling to put food on the table without that help, is that really optional?

Don't get me wrong, I do think that idea could work but it would take a lot of work to do well, and most works I've seen don't do the work. Even if they did though, it doesn't change the fact that most modern uses of this trope don't mention that bit or actively ignore it. It doesn't matter in most cyberpunk works I've seen if the amputation was optional or out of necessity, they still are more prone to being seen as "less human" and in most of the sci-fi writing communities I've been part of, the authors are genuinely shocked when I ask them to remember "people with cybernetics are real people already, they're not some far-off-distant future fantasy group, they're just called amputees". Like it didn't even cross their minds. These are the people creating the works in this genre. Even if it wasn't the original intention of the genre, it's still an issue in the modern version of it. Edit 2: Elaborated a little more on why I don't think the "only people who choose it" argument works in the edit. Also, please stop telling me that old cyberpunk doesn't have this issue, I literally address that in the post lol.

[apothe-roses]

I Wanna Ride

modern Aemond Targaryen x reader

Part 1

Summary: After finally getting your hands on a ‘dragon’, you find yourself needing help with repairs. Enter hot yet rude mechanic Aemond Targaryen

Fic contains: swearing, Aemond beings prick, I think that’s it?

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this fic for weeks and am finally ready to post it. I tried to use the right terminology, but I know fuck-all about biker culture so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hope you enjoy!

“No fucking way.”

Alysanne Blackwood turns and looks at you, mouth agape. “You actually got one.” You smile back at her, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I know. I didn’t fully believe it myself til I saw her in person.” The ‘her’ in question was a beat-up white motorcycle that was currently sitting in your workshop, but this wasn’t just any old bike. No. This was a dragon. The top of the line. Even non-bikers knew a thing or two about dragons. Made by Targaryen Corp., these beauties were prized for their powerful engines, speed, and endurance. The model you picked up was a Meraxes—one of the earlier models that has since been retired.

“I never thought you’d actually pluck up the nerve to buy a bike for yourself. Much less a dragon.”

“You know I’ve always wanted to learn to ride,” you tell her.

“Yeah, but you never acted on that. Well, ‘til now,” Aly quips.

“I already know more than enough about bikes,” you assert.

“Fixing a dragon and riding one are two completely different things.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do both.”

“We’ll see,” Aly laughs. You smile back, shoving her playfully.

That had been six months ago. You were so close to being ready, but you'd hit a roadblock in her repairs. No matter what, you just couldn't get the transmission to run the way you wanted it to.

"If you stare at that engine for much longer, it's gonna burst into flames," Alysanne muses. You look over your shoulder and shoot her a glare. She only giggles at you, hopping off the workbench she was sitting on.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with needing help every once in a while," she says.

“I know,” you sigh back. “It’s just…”

“Too stubborn to admit defeat?” she teases.

“No!” you answer back a little too quickly.

“Maybe,” you mutter, turning your gaze towards the floor. “It’s also the money.” Mechanics who worked on older bikes were hard to come by in your area, and the ones that were in the area charged an arm and a leg for their services.

"Listen, I know just the place for you to go. There’s this one place Cregan loves to frequent. He swears up and down they're the best in town. I’ve met the owners several times, and they’re trustworthy. One of them even specializes in older bikes like this gal right here," she pats one of Meraxes's handlebars. That piques your interest. You knew Aly’s boyfriend was a man of his work, so this place must be good if he says so.

“And will this specialist leave me up to my ears in debt?”

“They’re pretty far when it comes to prices for service. Plus, you can always come to me if you’re short a few bucks,” Aly replies, going to grab her phone. You grimace at the thought. You love Aly and appreciate her generosity, but you don’t like the idea of inconveniencing herself to help you (even if she comes from a rich family). Aly walked back over to you, phone in hand.

“Do you want your bike fixed, or are you gonna stay stuck at a dead end for who knows how long?”

You look at her phone, open to the Contacts app, then back at your bike. You let out a sigh.

“What’s the name?”

That's how you found yourself pulling up to Green Auto Shop in the passenger seat of Aly’s pickup truck, your precious Meraxes securely tied down in the back. It was a rather unassuming garage located not far from Blackwater Bay. Alysanne looks over at you from the driver’s seat. "Don't judge a book by its cover," she says, undoing her seatbelt and opening her door.

You scramble to follow her as she walks confidently into one of the garages. You see a pair of legs sticking out from beneath an old car. Music blares in the background mixed with the sound of metal on metal.

"Egg," Aly shouts over the ruckus. "You've got company." The man working under the car slides out, giving Aly a bright smile. You can't help but gape as Aegon fucking Targaryen walks over to greet the two of you. You've heard and seen a lot about the eldest son of Viserys Targaryen. He has quite the reputation for drinking and partying, but the Sunfyre—a model he masterminded—is one of the company's most popular. In all the photos you've seen of him, he always looked sullen and hungover, a far cry from the relaxed and cheerful man before you.

"Aye, it's Cregan's girl, "he greets, wiping his hands off on a dirty rag. His gaze shifts to you, giving a quick once-over. “And who is this?” He asks flirtatiously while sauntering over to you. “Hi, I’m Aegon,” he holds a mostly clean hand out.

“She’s my friend,” Alysanne replies, pushing her way between the two of you. “And she’s here to see your brother, not you. She’s having trouble with her bike and could really use his help.”

Aegon pouts and puts his hand over his heart. “You don’t trust me, Aly? I’m wounded.” He rubs his hands together, walking out to the pickup. “Now let’s see what my little bro’s got to work with.” Without waiting for permission, he hops into the truck bed and whistles at the bike.

“Never thought I’d see a Meraxes in person again. Aem’s gonna have a field day with this beauty.” Aly grabs his pant leg and gives it a tug. “Off,” she orders. He hops back onto the pavement, his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Where is your cryptid brother? It feels like he’s never here,” Aly asks.

“You just missed him. He went to grab lunch,” Aegon responds. “He’ll be gone a while, but we can talk pricing in the office?” He leads the two of you back into the garage, to a small office off to the side. As you feared, the service would be quite expensive, but Aegon set you up with a payment plan. That put you at ease a bit. You’re also worried about the fact that you haven’t met the person who will actually be working on your bike. You voice your concerns to Aly over burgers that evening.

“Aemond isn’t…the best with people, but what he lacks in people skills he makes up for in his work. Cregan claims he’s a miracle worker after he fixed his Direwolf following a gnarly crash,” Aly reaches across the table and gives your hand a squeeze. “Trust me, your baby’s in good hands.”

About a week later, you borrow Aly’s truck to swing by the garage and check on your bike. One of the doors was up, but Aegon was nowhere to be found. You wondered if he left the garage open by mistake, but you could hear noises coming from in the garage.

You tentatively walk to the entrance and peek inside. Your Meraxes was propped in the bay where you’d left it. Someone was kneeling in front of it, clearly at work. His back was turned, so all you could see was his back and the long, silver hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.

So this must be the elusive Aemond. You knew significantly less about him than you did his other siblings. Him attending public events was rare, and taking photos at said events was rarer.

Cryptid indeed.

You take a tentative step into the garage. He doesn’t notice you approaching, completely engrossed by the bike.

“Um, hello,” you say shyly. He goes rigid, the wrench falling from his grasp. He turns to look at you, and your brain shuts down. You fully expected some kind of Quasimodo-looking guy based on how everyone described Aemond. But this man looked like a Greek statue come to life.

From his nose to his cheekbones to even his lips, he was all sharp angles. One of his eyes was covered by a simple black path. The other was a soft blue, almost periwinkle. The coveralls he’s wearing are unzipped down to his navel, showing the dirty white singlet underneath.

“Can I help you?” He asks briskly, rising to his feet and snapping you out of your daze.

You’re taken aback by his bluntness, a far cry from Aegon’s relaxed demeanor.

“Yeah…I’m here to pick up my bike,” you reply, indicating to the bike behind him.

He gives you a small ‘hmm’ and grabs a rag to wipe his hands. Your gaze is drawn to his long, elegant fingers and the prominent veins that trail down from his arms.

“Your transmission clip was loose,” he explains curtly. “Had to replace it.”

He walks over to the bike, swings a leg over, and starts her up. The engine revs without a problem.

“Crazy how something so small can cause such a large problem,” you say. He once again doesn’t respond, only kills the engine and moves away from the bike. An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

“Sooo…how many of these older bikes do you usually—“

“I need to get back to work. You can talk to Aegon about payment and such. He’s in the back,” Aemond interjects, turning and walking away from you. Your mouth falls open, eyebrows raised.

“O-okay. I was just trying to make conversation,” you mutter.

“Well, I Don’t have time to ‘make conversation.’ I’ve got work to do,” he replies, back turned.

“Apparently, you Don’t have time for manners either,” you snap back.

Aemond turns to you. “Excuse m-“

“Hey! What’s going on?” Aegon rushes in from a back room. He smiles, but his eyes glance nervously between the two of you. “I see you’ve met my brother.” Aemond casts his gaze towards the ground, giving yet another ‘hmm.’

Unfortunately, you want to tell him. Instead you say, “I can give you the first payment now.”

“Awesome! Let’s handle that in the office, shall we?” Aegon asks, ushering you away without waiting for a response. Not that you needed to give one; you were more than eager to get away from Aegon’s rude brother. You pay Aegon, then the two of you head back into the garage. Aemond is nowhere to be found. Busy my ass, you think, trying not to grimace.

Together, you and Aegon load your Meraxes into the bed of the pickup. When you're done, you both lean against the side. Aegon turns his head to look at you.

“Sorry ‘bout Aemond. He’s not…the best with people. But he’s wicked good at what he does. This shop wouldn’t be running without him.”

You don’t say anything, only giving a small nod in response.

“Hey, if you’re free this weekend, there’s a meet going on near Visenya’s hill. You should come. It’ll be fun,” he explains with a small smile.”Ask Aly about it. She should know all the details.”

“Alright,” you tell him. “I’ll be there.”

Next Part

[illmother]

ೀ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ⎯ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𝓥𝖆𝖓illa 𝗵𝗰𝘀

A/N: GOT MY PRETTY GIRL AND WAS OBSESSED IMMEDIATELY. like you don’t understand how BADLY i want her to bend me over one of her machine things and finger fuck me til’ i have to rely on said machine to keep me upright.

cw: consists of both sft and nsft hcs, tfem!Vanilla, slight bondage, corruption

— i feel like she’d be the type to cook you meals whenever you’re feeling down or stressed like; oh, you’re feeling upset, tired, unwell? eat. you’ll feel better with a full stomach

— will do anything for you, and i mean ANYTHING. even if she thinks she should be against it ‘cus it’s dangerous and whatnot, she still gives in. after all, she can protect you! she always has, and always will

— if you’re busy and working on something, she’ll cut up some fruits for you, think like those little bunny apples !!

— her actions speak louder than words! she’ll give you a back massage if you’re feeling tense and stressed, run you a bath when you’re done with work, cook you food, she’s basically your perfect housewife!

— OH! and don’t bother wasting your money on mechanics or anything like that. why call someone when you have your wonderful Vanilla up and ready to fix any issues in your home

— DEFINITELY a service top. no doubt. she’ll do whatever you want, you don’t even need to touch her for her to be cumming in her pants. but if you ever wanna top, she’ll be your loud, whiny angel <3

— speaking of cum, she cums LOADS. like enough to paint your stomach white. how does it taste? well, it’s far from bad to say the least, a little bit on the sweeter side

— she’s not a woman of many words, but god is she vocal during sex. like full on moaning, and grunting the filthiest shit right into your ear while you’re riding her, your front pressed against hers while she thrusts up into you like there’s no tomorrow

— GOD i can go on about her fingers all day. like hello?? my girl works on machines and mechanics all day for YEARS. she can reach every single nook and cranny of your sobbing cunt with her skillful fingers

— pretty sucky at aftercare, since she hasn’t had any experience with relationships after being in a deserted lab place (?) for over a decade. so you’ll have to teach her things along the way! but don’t worry, she’ll get it soon enough (for now, she just settles on cuddling up to you after a steamy night)

— that being said, being very very inexperienced in anything relationship wise leaves in room for corruption…

— ALSO her rank up art thing??? bondage?? being restricted?? hello??? are you guys seeing my vision rn…OK HEAR ME OUT-

“Do you like this, Pretty girl?” You questioned, voice breathy as you whispered into her ear. Vanilla could only groan in response, as drool dribbling messily down her chin. Having her arms restricted, while you stroked her eager, leaky cock, each pump of your hand painfully slow to her dismay. “Faster,” She choked out, you’d been teasing her for the past hour or so, and she really couldn’t take it anymore, she needed release, bad. She feels like she’ll definitely break if this goes on any longer. “Please, please, please, let me cum…just this once..” She pleaded, so sinful, so beautiful, you really couldn’t say no at this point…not when she was begging to be ruined by you. “Oh, i’ll make you cum alright.” You murmured, before your movements on her pretty cock grew faster. You’ll make her cum, and you won’t stop until she’s shooting blanks. <3

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Why do you think Diablo has disenged on it's core themes? (I mean I agree) I've always considered it to be a franchise with some insane wasted potential, but my perspective comes more from Diablo 3 and 4. Id be nice if you could expand on that.

I mean, my argument is that Diablo 1 was a dungeon crawler with a randomized loot mechanic that existed mostly to enable the roguelike random level generation that ensured replayability for the adventure. Players shouldn't be able to simply beeline it to the most powerful items in the game once they figure out exactly where they are, so randomization made each journey into the Tristram Cathedral a new process of discovery.

It's a game that, yes, wants to provide engaging gameplay, but just as much as the discovery of loot, it is driven by discovery of its world and story - multiple NPCs in the game exist that have no function or benefit to the player except as characters to interact with. You find lore tomes in the labyrinth which give you exposition about the world, but offer no tangible benefits. Shrines will randomize your stats, transform your potions, curse your items, randomly teleport you into a horde of monsters. The world is populated by objects, people and events that entice a player with curiosity to see what happens as much as they entice the player with the power fantasy of Making Number Go Up, and plenty of interactions have no hard gameplay benefit. "Sub dungeons" in the labyrinth, like the Halls of the Blind or Chamber of Bone, exist in part to give the player lootable rewards and monsters to fight, but also each of them have their own exposition, lore and worldbuilding (however limited by budget and technical limitations).

Diablo 2 realized that the skinner box thrill of randomized loot drops and number-go-up optimization was by far the most primally emotionally engaging part of Diablo 1's gameplay, and began the process of reorienting the franchise ENTIRELY to enable that specific pleasure. The loot system expands exponentially, crafting, gem slotting, etc all get introduced, and loot mechanics are given pride of place in terms of how the game engages the players. Shrines all provide knowable, specific benefits, every NPC is either a quest-giver or a merchant, there are HUNDREDS of randomized sub-dungeons on every map, and the vast majority of them have absolutely no narrative content whatsoever, they are merely slot machine arms for the player to pull, hoping for a chance of a jackpot loot drop.

Diablo 3 is the apotheosis of this process - a game which drops all pretense that the nature of your loot matters in favor of orienting every part of it around chasing the high of Getting A Bigger Number. You're a sorcerer running around with a greatsword? No problem! You cast all your spells as normal. So long as the greatsword has Bigger Numbers, anything works. Templar with a Wand? Equally viable! Damage numbers inflate into the millions, hordes of monsters swell with ever greater numbers, your spells and abilities clear entire screens in seconds, and everything in the game revolves around enabling the player's power fantasy.

In Diablo 1 you are an unimportant adventurer, the latest in a long line of unremarkable hopefuls, stepping alone into the bowels of a middle-of-nowhere village church, creeping slowly through its doors and hallways, fighting its monsters primarily one by one. Any group of ranged monsters can kill you in seconds, even in the late-game, and if you get surrounded, likely as not you are quite simply dead. It's tense, lonely, unglamorous and often desperate. Unwieldy inventory management puts constraints on your ability to heal and restore mana. You can only carry so many potions while leaving room for loot, and remember to leave room for your Town Portals and Identify scrolls, and for your all-important gold, which will clog your inventory almost totally by the end. Slay a unique monster and hope to god that the item it dropped wasn't cursed. Touch a shrine and you might lose 2 Strength points and suddenly be unable to equip your armor. When you kill Diablo, you find he is nothing but the possessed body of a young boy who was abducted and abused by a corrupt priest, an ugly and mundane tragedy leading to extraordinary suffering.

In Diablo 3 you are the most specialest most important incredible super-hero that has ever existed. You are a half-angel half-demon unstoppable killing machine, mowing down hordes of demons and corrupted angels like nothing, absolutely BATHING in infinite showers of ultra-powerful legendary loot, each more ultra-powerful and legendary than the last. You deal ten million damage with a single ability. You fight Ultra Diablo, the special super-powered SUPER SAIYING MEGA ULTRA super-powered extra special Prime Evil who is the most powerful evil bad guy who has ever existed and YOU are the only one in the whole universe who can beat him because you're SO special, yes you are! Identify shit by clicking on it! Cast town portal whenever you want! Enemies drop infinite health potions whenever you need them! Fuck it, you even KILL DEATH by the end because you are invincible and immortal and unstoppable and perfect. Fear has no hold on you, never in your life will you know uncertainty or doubt. AND it's your birthday! Buy a sword that is 3.2% better than your magic wand with real money in the auction house as a treat!

tl;dr Diablo 1 is an adventure game, Diablo 3 is Cookie Clicker.

[gravesbf]

YOO IM IN LOVE WITH UR HCS THEY TASTE LIKE CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES AND FRUIT TEA :3

Request here 🙏🙏🙏

Could you possibly.. *leans on Bugatti with graves wrap on it + an inflatable eagle and American flag flying from the bonnet* write some hcs for 141 + König with a gn s/o that has had a really bad day and just needs some comfort? So eg, just being pampered and having their hair washed, being told they’ve done well, that people are proud of them and love them, etc?

Ive been having a really shitty past few months with my depression and anxiety and it’s really overwhelmed me so I’m kinda projecting.. 🧍🏼🧍🏼

If you can’t do it, that’s ok!!! No pressure <33

But if you can, may your skin be clear and may your crops flourish 🙏🙏🙏 (with america rizz) (im british)

i hate brits but ill make an exception for u 🫶 /lh i hope ur day gets a littol bit better for u pookie :< ik how hard it gets fr <3 we r in this together :)

cw: depression (not delved into !!)

simon "ghost" riley:

☆ this guy getss it !!! he doesn't open up much about his feelings directly but let's all be fr and agree he's not the most mentally stable

☆ your self care day is hiss self care day, thrives on cuddling and using you as weighted blanket while he rubs your back

☆ has himself a tea while you both cuddle, and trust me it's good tea. the night might turn into a cuddle and see how many teas simon can make before you run out

☆ before you fall asleep fully he kisses the crown of your head and says that he's proud of how far you've come

john "soap" mactavish:

☆ tries to be more lowkey w how he comforts you because he doesn't want to come off as overbearing

☆ has mastered the perfect balance of praise and touch, he holds your hand while you tell him about your day and he makes comments trying to sympathize w you

☆ lets you scritch his mohawk while he tells you how much he loves you and how glad he is that you're around and here with him

☆ lays his head on your chest when you both go to sleep so he can listen to your heartbeat and tap your arms to the beat of it, has both of you asleep within 5 minutes

john price:

☆ kinda awkward with comforting but he tries his best, he's always a little bit confused about how somebody like you could be so upset about anything

☆ he knows that it's not his place to fully understand though, so he sticks to doing what he does best: being an old ass man

☆ showers with you and washes your hair while you vent (or not) about how you've been feeling, he stays mostly silently except for humming to let you know he's listening

☆ towel dries your hair and changes the bedsheets to clean ones so you can be fully clean because he's a firm believer in being a little more tidy can greatly improve somebody's feelings

kyle "gaz" garrick:

☆ king of pampering in general, he's waiting on you hand and foot constantly. honestly he probably knows it's going to be a bad day before you even start your day

☆ he's always making you food to eat throughout the day, little snacks that aren't too big but are just enough to keep you energized and full

☆ ditches his military soaps for your nice ones when you take a shower, secretly (not rlly) loves when you laugh at him building bubble beards on himself and doing price impressions

☆ making you laugh is his goal in life tbh he's constantly cracking jokes while you both cuddle, some of them are so bad it's funny

könig:

☆ another guy that genuinely understands everything you're talking abt, his anxiety also makes him have awfulll days and due to being the military around lots of people he's learned coping mechanisms

☆ takes hot showers with you a lot in general, but even more when you're having one of those days. he's already washing your hair and face as soon as you get in

☆ lets you braid his hair while he talks idly about how missions are and how he adores you, though he says that in german. you've picked up on him saying cheesy stuff in german though so it's fine :)

☆ lets you sprawl out on him like a starfish when you both finally go to sleep, around 2am because of how many shows he wanted to watch with you

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

Hi! I’m autistic and a lesbian and my current hyper fixation/ comfort show is Hazbin Hotel and my favorite/comfort character is Angel Dust. I was wondering if you could write a platonic Angel x gn/fem reader that is angsty and involves the reader comforting and taking care of Angel after a really bad night with Valentino. With cuddling, and handholding and Angel dealing with addiction/ self harm and the reader just being there and supporting him or something. I totally understand if not I just thought I would ask. Also I’m a huge fan of your work!!

So the way the story went, I didn’t get super graphic or anything. It truly is a really angsty fic but mainly comfort and reader being there for Angel with the help of Husk!

Let me know if this fic gets it for the prompt and if not, send me another request and I’ll take another swing at it. :)

rating: PG

genre: angst/confirt

characters: Angel x Reader, platonic

warnings: talk of boundaries, crossing physical boundaries, being a good friend.

Angel came into the hotel, looking distraught. He went to the bar and laid his top half on the counter, Husk and I giving each other a glance. I reach over to Angel to pet his hair, and the minute I touch him he shoots up, on guard, eyes wide.

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” He says, his eyes pointed at me.

“Hey, Angel, she was just trying to help.” Husk said, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I’m not. I’m sorry.” I say.

“But you DID.” Angel cries getting up. “You touched me, without even asking if you could. I’m not property for everyone to stroke tonight.” He yells, running off. I look at Husk and he sighs.

“I fucking hate Valentino.” I hear myself growl out, watching where Angel disappeared. My face falls quickly, knowing that Angel was upset right now.

“Go after him kid.” Husk says, cleaning out a glass. “One of us needs to and I think you gotta apologize.” I nod and quickly take after Angel, not before grabbing some waters from Husk and a few snacks he keeps behind the bar. I get up to Angels door and knock lightly, hearing the soft sobs inside Angel’s room.

“Angel, can I come in?” I ask. There’s no answer, but the door opens revealing an empty room. I walk inside and sit down on Angel’s bed, seeing him in his chair in the corner.

“I brought some water and snacks. I know you need them. I’m going to set them here on this stool, okay?” I explain.

“I’m not gonna fucking break.” Angel glares at me and I sigh.

“I’m not sure right now how to help you. I understand that I crossed a boundary early and I’m trying to be respectful of that, but you pulling up a defense mechanism that you’re fine and aren’t going to break isn’t giving me clear signs here.” I explain. “I want to help. How can I?”

Angel looks at me and all the malice and anger melts in an instant as he gets up, starting to sob and throws himself at me. He lands in my arms, kneeling on the ground as I was sat on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry.” Angel kept crying over and over.

“No, I’m sorry. I never want to make you uncomfortable Angel or make you feel like I don’t respect you. That is so far from the truth.” I explain, clutching him to me.

“How can ya respect me? No one does. It’s what I deserve.” Angel mutters, his eyes dark.

“You do not deserve any mistreatment Angel. Regardless of the contract you have with Val. You deserve so much more than that blind bitch of an overlord could ever give you.” I declare, as I feel a chuckle.

“Blind Bitch?” Angel snorts.

“He couldn’t see two inches in front of him let alone two feet. Reason why he stays with Vox.” I joke back as Angel laughs again. “Come here.” I say and climb up Angel’s bed, laying on my back. Angel happily comes up and lays on my chest with Fat Nuggets curled up between us.

“Do you think everything will be all right?” Angel murmurs, his eyes slowly closing as he fell asleep, while I put his phone on silent.

“Everything will. And if it’s not all right, it’s not the end.” I murmur, gently brushing through his hair and I hear the gentle snores coming from him, allowing sleep to take me over too. Not before setting an alarm and texting Husk to wake me so we could make Angel breakfast.

[cheriladycl01]

I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕💕

The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader

Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.

A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!

Credit to rookie-ofthe-year for the GIF

You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.

Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.

They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.

You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.

It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.

Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.

They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.

However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.

"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.

There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.

"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.

It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.

He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.

"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.

"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.

Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.

The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.

He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.

"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.

"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.

"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.

Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.

He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.

For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.

"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.

"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.

"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.

"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.

"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.

"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.

"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.

"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.

"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.

"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.

"I know, I just worry about you!"

"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[thedeviltohisangel]

I live for Bucky and Spook and I have kids on the brain after rewatching the scene with Buck and Bucky talking to British kids Billy and Sammy so hear me out: Spook offering to babysit for one of the Brit’s kids and one of the kids sees them flirting and asks if they’re gonna get married

All The Things I Did (Interlude): I Want To Give You The World

a/n: ok this interlude became very important to the story. hints at post-berlin (promise we will see pre-berlin soon) cass and john, cass/lemmons/local children fluff, meeting cass' older brother, and hot times on a blanket in a field. interlude requests always open//inbox and DMs ready to accept screams. see you all soon!

The tip of the pencil snapped under the force she was using to press it into the paper. It was the fourth one in the past half hour. She thinks she was going to lose her mind. That the walls were closing in around her like a personal prison cell. That is almost exactly what it was.

The doctors and the OSS had her grounded post-Berlin. They had offered her two choices. Extended stay at a flak house or operational pause and desk duty. Cass had thought she was making the right decision. The former had meant leaving base and leaving John. After she had just gotten him back. After they had only just spent the night together and discovered the bliss of waking up in each other’s arms. No. She couldn’t leave him after all that. But desk duty. Desk duty was causing her slow decline. And to add insult to injury, John had been tasked with a mission to North Africa anyways. 

She was trying to catch up on her reports and her targeting packages but it wasn’t enough. John wasn’t here to distract her. Colonel Harding would just flirt with her. Everybody else was locked in their own offices and working frantically. She was alone on her own boredom island. 

----

Assuming some sunshine might do the trick, she found herself walking the runways. They were empty just like her heart. Her mustachioed pilot off in a far away land no doubt enjoying his time in the desert. Cass imagined he was still finding a way to cause trouble. Had asked him to look up her brother while he was there. She hoped Bobby at least ribbed him a little bit. 

“Lemmons, what have we got going on over here?” It looked like a plane engine and it looked like he had children holding wrenches and helping him work on it.

“Lieutenant Cooper!” The kids saluted her with a smile. She lifted her hand with a laugh in reply. 

“Just teaching these kids how to take apart an engine,” Lemmons answered. “Don’t get a lot of down time.” Cass hummed and reached towards the tool kit to pick a wrench of her own.

“Got room for one more?”

----

“Miss Cass?” One of the little girls had been finding Lieutenant too hard to pronounce the past couple of days so she had given her permission to use her name.

“Yes, ma’am?” They were all sitting together around a bonfire that Lemmons had started. The kids were roasting whatever they could put on a stick and telling stories about all the fun them and the mechanics were getting up to.

“Can you tell the story about Prince Bucky and Princess Spook again?” Spending this time with them was a breath of fresh her. Reminded her of her nieces and nephews back home that she missed so dearly. 

“Where did we leave off?” A couple of the other kids gathered around at the murmur that the story was continuing. 

“Prince Bucky was using his flying unicorn to kill the evil dragon!”

“Oh please, Miss Cass, tell us if Princess Spook is okay.” She ignored the smirks of the men that were also present. Cass gave them a ‘can you blame me’ look. She missed her man and this was one of the ways she knew how to fill the void.

“Prince Bucky arrived at the castle just in time, the dragon about to breathe fire into the window where Princess Spook was asleep.” They gasped, fully committed to the story. “She woke up and looked out the window and saw Prince Bucky and his sword, ready to kill the dragon!” 

“I’m sure Bucky is very proficient with his sword,” one of the mechanics scoffed around his cigarette. Cass shot him a look that could kill him and he quieted instantly. 

“He raised it high,” she lifted her arms over her head, “and brought it down right through its scales before it could kill the Princess.” The children breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are they going to get their happily ever after, Lieutenant?” Lemmons asked with a grin. 

“What do you all think? Should the Prince and Princess be together forever?” They all nodded furiously, Cass laughing at the chocolate on their faces. 

“Miss Cass, they should get married and then Princess Spook can wear a really big dress.” 

“Then they’ll be King and Queen!”

“And King Bucky can slay a million more dragons!” Two of the boys turned towards each other with their sticks and began to use them as their own swords. The rest of the kids took their cues and took off into the darkening field to act out their own version of the fairytale.

“They’re good kids, Ken. It’s nice that you’ve taken them under your wing.” Cass bumped his shoulder playfully as he blushed around his sip of beer. 

“They are much more into Princess Spook than they are plane engines these days, Lieutenant.” 

“Cass, please. No ranks around the fire.” She poked at it gently. The distractions had been so welcome. This time spent away from John had only reaffirmed her feelings for him were true. That they were deep and meaningful and could last a long time. When she had gotten back from Berlin, he had told her he loved her. Had looked her in the eyes and held her steady and said the three words that Cass thinks carried the most meaning the world. And he had fucking meant them. 

She hadn’t said them back even though she felt it too. Never one to be held back by fear, she was in this instance. John could be taken from her at any moment and there was nothing she could do about it. In her line of work, lack of control got you killed. 

----

Lemmons was teaching her how to properly oil the gears of the practice engine when the first plane was spotted on the horizon. Cass stood and watched them appear one by one through the lenses of her aviators and smiled before dropping her tools and running to the tower.

“Lieutenant Cooper.” Colonel Harding lowered his binoculars to give her a once over, clearly enjoying the sight of her in a jumpsuit rather than her usual uniform. She plucked the binoculars from his hand while he was distracted.

“My forearms are too tantalizing this afternoon, Colonel?” He smirked as she looked out the window, until she spotted John’s plan and smiled with glee. 

“Cassandra, I have dinner tomorrow night with my British counterpart. He’s known to talk with the prodding of scotch and a beautiful woman.” She hummed in thought as the plane carrying the man she loved got closer and closer.

“I’ll think about it.” It wasn’t the first time Harding had invited her as his date to a fancy dinner with their partners. It gave her a chance to elicit information of value from them as she played dumb and sipped a glass of water. John had muttered under his breath about it previously but after the most recent change in their relationship, she doesn’t think he would be so subtle about it anymore.

“Best not keep Major Egan waiting.” He took the binoculars from her hand and watched her go with a sad smile on his face. If only he was younger.

She thinks she exercised the most patience she ever had in her entire life as she wanted for his plane to land and taxi to its final resting place. Her entire body was vibrating as she waited and waited for the hatch to open and almost groaned that he would of course be the last one to exit. And then he dropped out of the plane and the clouds parted so the sun could shine on John Clarence Egan and she was off across the airfield like a cannonball. 

“C’mere my lovely, lovely angel.” He caught her as she jumped into his arms, her legs around his waist and arms around his neck in an instant. John went for a kiss but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Any new scratches or bruises or wounds of any kind I need to know about?” She had already located one on the bridge of his nose and on his forehead. 

“You can do a more thorough check when you take a shower with me later, how about that?” he whispered. 

“Yeah, it does seem you need one.” John couldn’t wait to kiss her anymore. He groaned as she wasted no time slipping her tongue between his lips, gripping her tighter against his body. “I missed you. Thought about you every day,” she admitted. He let her legs drop onto the ground but her arms stayed exactly where they had been. 

“The men almost mutinied against me for talking about you too much.” She giggled and John kissed her again. “Though it did make me look a little desperate in front of your brother.” Cass looked at him with wide eyes.

“You saw Bobby? Were you able to give him the box?” John nodded. 

“You didn’t tell me he was that frightening.” He didn’t mention that his hand was shaking when he was giving him the box. The way the older man had looked at him like ham on a buffet table made him sweat. Gale had loved every minute of it.

“He’s just protective when it comes to boys in my life.” Especially after Sidney Landry.

“Gave me a stern speech about the kind of girl you are and how you deserve to be treated and that he knew what I looked like now so he could kill me if he needed to.”

“He’s doing okay? Seemed intact?” Cass hadn’t seen Bobby since he left for boot camp immediately after Pearl a few years ago. Remembers hugging him with tears that she may not see him again. That he was going somewhere far away where people hated him. He had told her he had to. That he needed to do something to protect his family. Told her he wouldn’t be surprised if she found a way to join him over there. She and her brother Kent followed not too soon after. God how she missed them both.

“Told me to tell you he misses you.” John had been honest with the man about his feelings for Cass. Didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to talk to her father and that Bobby would be the next best thing. Told him he loved her and wanted to be with her when this was all over. That Cass was it for him, he knew it as well as he knew how to fly. Bobby was hesitant at first but watched the way John looked when he spoke about her. Heard the men making jokes about the lovestruck Major. Bobby had even asked Major Cleven for his thoughts on the whole situation. Gale had raved about Cass and how good she was for John. That the two of them complemented each other like salt and pepper. 

When John asked for Bobby’s blessing to one day marry Cass, he had given it.

----

That night, they were back where they could always be found. On a blanket in the field of wildflowers a few minutes drive from base. John’s hat and blazer were thrown somewhere in the distance and she was working on the knot of his tie as he hovered on top of her. 

“You aren’t allowed to leave me for that long ever again,” she breathed as she threw the offensive fabric over his head and John’s hands moved the hem of her dress around her waist.

“Yes, ma’am.” Cass used his moment of weakness to change the balance of power, hooking her leg around his waist and pushing against his shoulder until his back hit the blanket and she was straddling him. “I like the way you think.” She had only unbuttoned the first few on her dress, John sitting up in a daze at the sight of white lace, kissing her skin as she exposed it to him. Then, over the hill, was the sound of screeching children and it was only getting closer.

“John-”

“Miss Cass! Miss Cass!” She pushed John down as they came running towards her. Her fingers barely locked the last button into place before they were swarmed. 

“We didn’t see you today!”

“Sergeant Lemmons said Prince Bucky was back!”

“Is this him?” She went to move from her precarious position over John when his hands on her hips stopped her.

“Not yet,” he cautioned. No need to scar these children for life.

“Yes, this is…Prince Bucky.” She had told John, after he had coaxed her into the shower, about her time with Lemmons and the local kids. About the story of Prince Bucky and Princess Spook and the dragon. He had teased her about their happily ever after all afternoon. “He’s just been back from killing another dragon.” Her look begged him to play along.

“Indeed. A large…gray dragon.” The kids gasped. 

“Was he trying to hurt Princess Spook?”

“I would do anything to rescue my Princess.” Cass couldn’t help herself, pulling him in for a kiss by his collar. 

“Will you be getting married soon?”

“Oh, please, Miss Cass! You’d look so pretty in a princess dress.”

“Prince Bucky hasn’t asked, little ones.” For his part, John was looking at her like the first sight of land after being lost at sea. 

“Will you marry me, Princess Spook?” The kids cheered but Cass was frozen. She knew it wasn’t real, he was placating them and she loved him for it, but hearing the words come from his mouth felt so right. He meant them.

“Yes.” And she meant her answer too. 

[five-one-two-station]

Unknown Pleasures.

I've been thinking about the possible, well, mechanics of Elster and Ariane's physical intimacy.

Specifically, whether it would be possible for Ariane to reciprocate, sexually, to Elster in some way - I have to think she'd want to, and it's hard not to imagine Elster wouldn't want to indulge her.

Some spicy musings on the possibilities to follow.

Obviously Elster isn't intended or built for sexual pleasure; we can actually probably assume that she doesn't even have genitals, if the black surface "shell" is indeed the exoskeleton Replikas are said to have. What we see when she salvages the arm and chestplate seems to suggest the same thing too, that her exterior as we see it is simply part of her body as a whole.

(I'm also inclined to interpret her "pod" as something closer to a dialysis machine than a bed or cot simply for sleeping - something that manages the waste products her external anatomy seems to make no allowances for, as far as we can tell.)

But we know from her behaviors that she definitely does have some kinds of sensation through this exterior - in particular, we know she has the approximate touch-feedback of a human, required to operate lots of the human-suitable mechanisms she comes across, and she does seem to feel some kind of pain when she's injured.

This makes sense - both these things serve obvious practical functions. Elster, as a combat engineering unit, needs to know how tightly a bolt is fitted every bit as accurately as she might have to know how hard she's squeezing a trigger; and pain is a useful thing for any organism as a self-preservation measure, especially prudent for a comparatively valuable unit type.

You can of course calibrate the roughly appropriate trigger pull standards for any number of weapons into your LSTRs as they're rolling off the production line - but the bolts, nuts, screws, panels and fittings she's going to work with in the field will all behave differently due to their unique conditions and environments. So she does definitely need to have a kind of sensation coming back, even if only to know how far to crank a wrench before it breaks something.

Following this logic, and maybe even the Nation's preference for efficiency and physical specialization in the Replikas, it would seem to me that the most sensitive interface points of her body are probably her hands, since those are the tools of her function.

As for pain - well, we know pain and pleasure in human bodies both occur via the same pathways, and given how closely Replika biology mimics that of a Gestalt, we have to assume that's just as true. Which is to say, if she can feel physical pain, she can potentially feel physical pleasure too - even if she isn't constructed with that in mind. It might just take some creativity, and some engineering knowhow to "hack" her body to use it this way, which I'm sure the two could muster between them.

Imagine then, if you will, Ariane and Elster experimenting with a jury-rigged contraption of multimeter and radio parts, wired in through the finer structures of her hands, to see if they can figure out how to induce the equivalent of organic pleasure through her existing sensory mechanisms.

Not just for a fun little experiment or to pass some time, you understand - but to find another way they can share and love each other in the freedom and isolation of their exile, even if it has to be invented. Another way for Ariane to reach for Elster despite the limits and restrictions the Nation has defined for them; another way for Elster to let her in.

Imagine Elster kneeling, so she won't fall if she is to be suddenly overwhelmed, hands outstretched like a religious devotee, while above her Ariane begins to tune into the responses she wants, chasing her ecstatic threshold like a radio operator might chase a precious, narrow, signal on the dial.

Imagine, once they'd started making a real science of it, that they'd want to bring more intimacy, more closeness into the process. Imagine Ariane sitting on Elster's torso in their cosy little bed cubby, studying her reactions as she makes herself an expert in them, taking her own pleasure in providing Elster's this time. Imagine her sitting on Elster's face while Elster faithfully offers their invention up to her, so that she can ensure as artfully as possible that they both come in time.

You might even imagine them getting real weird with it, refining and minimizing their devices, and installing parts into some of the cavity gap somewhere, like the space we've seen inside her torso, so Ariane can pop open a panel and reach inside to invent a new kind of powerful, visceral intimacy, one that's entirely unique to them.

Imagine the exchange of trust involved. Not just from Elster to Ariane either, but from Ariane to Elster; both in sending her fragile human hands into the unyielding structures of her lover's armored and artificial body, and in having to rely on Elster not to let her do any harm, even from well intended ignorance.

Just some thoughts. Got thinking about the possibility Ariane might be curious to experiment with Elster's physiology, beyond basic maintenance, after seeing @arainydancer's great latest animation "Fixer", through no fault of hers.

[kienava]

So someone asked me to make a post about Blake’s development so far in order to discuss the question of where Blake’s character can progress at this point in RWBY given that her arc with Adam wrapped up in V6 and she didn’t really carry a plot line in V7-8. I do media and story things for a living, but I’m also an intimate partner abuse survivor - needless to say, Blake’s story is important to me. Hopefully my perspective helps answer concerns about Blake’s story being “over,” because I think it’s very much the opposite.

(Continued below the cut because this turned into an entire essay.)

I want to preface this by saying I understand why it might be difficult to picture what Blake’s story looks like going forward. I largely credit this to the relative dearth of compassionate, healing-oriented narratives about abuse survivors in media. A lot of what we see is either revenge fantasies or stories about facing the abuser and arriving at a point of ultimate catharsis. In some sense, this is a broader fault in the standards of western storytelling, which is oriented around that singular, climactic catharsis, but that’s another essay. In truth, a mostly linear progression towards a pivotal point of recovery isn’t how healing from abuse works. It’s a messy process, and life is rarely as linear as in fiction. I think RWBY incorporates that nonlinearity into Blake’s arc very well.

Speaking of Blake’s arc, let’s look at that.

When we first meet her in volume 1, she’s introduced as an aloof, independent loner who’s very resistant to getting closer to people. Most of her classmates perceive her as mysterious and alluring at best, callous and cold at worst. Once we start to understand more of her history, it’s easier to see her attitude as the defense mechanism it is. She wants to keep people at arm’s length because she doesn’t trust them not to hurt her – but she also believes that she will harm people she gets close to just because of who she is. That whole Beauty and the Beast dichotomy, you know? Adam told her that she ruins things. It doesn’t help that he groomed her into a terrorist organization and thus her surrounding community has also labeled her a threat. She’s got a few overlapping layers of distorted thinking to work through when it comes to her image of herself and others. The way she perceives people is, at first, overwhelmingly informed by her traumatic experiences with Adam and the White Fang.

It’s pretty strongly implied that Blake bent the rules in the forest and intentionally selected Yang as her partner. When we first see Blake dashing around in the shadows, Yang is taking down a Grimm while sassing it to death. Blake talks later about how Adam’s charisma drew her to him initially, so it’s no surprise that when she was choosing her next partner, she gravitated to the same superficial qualities. During the first White Fang arc, after her self-destructive spiral, Blake starts to genuinely trust her teammates for the first time. That trust is tested when Yang fights Mercury. In this moment, Blake is confronted with the possibility that a pattern might be repeating itself: what if she was drawn to Yang for reasons beyond the superficial? What if Yang doesn’t just share Adam’s positive qualities, but his negative ones, too? The impulsiveness, the violence, the abuse – but Blake stops herself. She chooses to trust that Yang isn’t Adam, and she says as much. She’s accepting that Adam is in her past and electing to move forward. How perfectly, neatly linear. 

Then the end of volume 3 happens.

For an abuse survivor, the idea that an abuser you’ve gotten away from might come crashing back into your life is possibly the scariest thing in the entire world. This is exactly what happens when Adam shows up, and Blake’s worst fears come true. He makes a point of hurting someone she cares about simply because he can to prove that he still has power over her. Blake runs because she thinks the only way she can protect the people she cares about is to be away from them. That paradoxical duality of (1) fearing harm will be done to her by others and (2) doing harm to others herself rears its head. 

One specific question I was asked is why Blake talks about Yang so little in volumes 4 and 5. If Blake isn’t talking about the people she left behind, is she even thinking about them? I say, well of course she is. It’s coloring her entire attitude.

When Blake returns to Menagerie, she’s back in the place where she met her abuser. She’s at her parents’ house, a place that has been a symbol of everything she left behind when she ran away the first time. Now she’s run from another home. Menagerie is riddled with traumatic memories for her, both interpersonally and on a structural, systemic level. Everywhere she goes could be a place where Adam said something awful to her, made her obey him in some way, asserted control. She also has to confront him in person again, too.

With Adam around, of course she’s not going to risk mentioning Yang. He got one inkling that Blake cared about someone else and cut their fucking arm off. The one time Blake mentions Yang by name, her voice cracks so obviously it’s like she’s forcing herself to get the word out. Through both of these volumes, Blake has other external goals, but she’s still trying to protect someone she cares about. At this point, she’s constantly struggling with two motivations: hope and fear. She wants to make the world a better place, but she’s terrified of what she’ll have to confront in order to do it because of what she’s already lost. Her choice to reunite with her team and fight shows that ultimately hope wins out.

In Volume 6, Blake and Yang facing Adam is essentially the B plot of the whole volume. He appears in flashes before the major confrontation at the end, but the damage he’s done to both of them is intrinsically tied into Blake and Yang’s relationship throughout.

The end of this volume offers the climactic moment of confronting and overcoming the abuser. Afterwards, Blake collapses and cries. Catharsis! Yay! We’re done now, right? This may be why, to some people, defeating Adam is the obvious “end” of Blake’s character arc. Again, I’d argue that this perception comes from how abuse is often depicted in media, but there’s also a very intense pressure in the real world for survivors not to speak out and share their stories. Even people who are abuse survivors might not publicly claim that label for a multitude of reasons. Namely, it fucking hurts to think about it, and also sometimes people are real weird about it. I don’t blame anyone who doesn’t want to carry that weight around all the time. We can see some inklings of Blake dealing with this challenge over the course of the show, though they’re subtle. Early on, she explicitly avoids talking about Adam until she absolutely has to, and even when she does start to unpack what he did, she often talks about it with visible shame (averting her eyes, etc). Unfortunately, shame is a very common sentiment for abuse survivors to carry, and addressing it is a major part of Blake’s journey as she starts to heal in volume 6.

Another point of interest posed was to look at Blake’s role in volumes 7 and 8. There’s an argument that she doesn’t really do anything or that her role is as a somewhat generic support figure within the group. I wholeheartedly disagree.

While Blake doesn’t carry a plotline herself during the Atlas arc, she and Yang embody polarized attitudes towards the global conflict the group is facing, and that contrast serves the larger narrative very well. Because she was raised by activists in a context where she was constantly thinking about civil rights, Blake wants to address the broader ideological conflict at play. Yang, whose childhood consisted of raising her younger sister, wants to help people in a practical, immediate way. Blake is an abstract, big-picture thinker, and Yang is more focused on what’s right in front of her. This isn’t a dig at either of them; it’s just a difference in prioritites. At first, Yang worries that these differing priorities will be a source of tension between them, but when she and Blake talk things through they’re able to understand each other without judgment. Blake is learning to reconnect with the idealist she used to be in her early youth, someone who fought for a cause purely because she wanted to make the world a better place. She’s able to embrace that side of herself around Yang even though they have different priorities, and they’re still able to support each other’s goals.

Furthermore, on a purely interpersonal level in V7-8, Blake has interactions with other characters that speak specifically to the healing journey she’s been on. Yes, these are significantly quieter moments than a fight to the death on a bridge over a waterfall, but that doesn’t mean they should be written off. Quiet and peace are part of healing, and that doesn’t have to undermine the story’s integrity. Dramatic tension is still possible amidst this, as we saw in Blake’s talks with Yang where they discuss their team’s split strategic approaches. When Blake talks to Nora about the importance of not losing yourself in someone else, that’s her speaking from experience. She’s lost herself in a relationship before, and she knows how hard it is to come back from that, but she survived. She healed. The asserted importance of self-compassion in relationships has a unique gravity coming from Blake. She has a strongly developed ability to balance interpersonal empathy with community- and global-level stakes, which we’re already seeing glimmers of at the beginning of V9 as she steps up to come up with a plan on the island. 

In summary, Blake’s arc isn’t just about that final showdown with Adam. She faces her abuser, runs away, faces him again, and again, finally evicts him from her life for good - and after that, her story continues.

She goes on to find ways to heal from her past. That process involves renewing compassion for her loved ones, her community, and the world as a whole; learning how to love without fear; and reconnecting with who she was before she was forced to become aloof and detached to protect herself. Although the circumstances of abuse convinced her that she was a coward, she is, and has always been, an incredibly brave character. She’s finally recognizing that at the current point in the story. Ultimately, I think this is the thing connects her to Yang and the rest of team RWBY so strongly: they’re brave enough to love and have hope even when forces of adversity tell them they shouldn’t dare to. Blake is a courageous idealist with a heart full of compassion, and ultimately not even Adam could destroy that about her.

My serious answer to the question of where Blake’s character will go now is that I think she’ll be a sort of de facto leader on the island as Ruby spirals into existential depression. Hopefully that arc resolves in a way that’s consistent with the show’s overall message about hope winning out, and past this volume Blake will still carry that optimistic but grounded revolutionary spirit and continue to be a center of compassion and hope.

My catharsis-oriented answer is this: aside from being trapped on a magical fairy tale island, Blake is free for the first time in a very long time, and she can go wherever the fuck she wants.  

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Mechanic!Sihtric NSFW alphabet

Note: HCs based on my mechanic fic: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 - part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12

This was actually so fun, because not much is known about him in this fic in this regard yet, so here you have it...

template source.

Warnings: 18+!! smut.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: -

wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

Sihtric will always immediately pull you in his arms and hold you tight while peppering you with soft kisses. He will check in with you, asking if you are feeling good and/or satisfied and then he will simply praise you by telling you how good you were for him. He will always apply some cooling lotion to ease your bruised buttocks after a spanking, and furthermore he'll provide you with anything you want; snacks, drinks, cuddles, watching a movie or simply reading to you from your favourite book while you're all snuggled up. It doesn't matter what time of the day it is, whatever his princess wants, he'll get for you (or something close to it). However, Sihtric also needs the reassurance himself that he has been good to you and didn't unintentionally cross a boundary.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

Sihtric is open to the idea of bondage (and BDSM activities in general, apart from the things you already do) if you would be willing to try something and bring it up yourself. His priority is to make you feel safe and loved, so he would set clear boundaries for anything new you'd want to try and he also wants to know why you want to try certain things. Sihtric doesn't really have many limits when it comes to making you happy.

C=Cum - pretty self explanatory.

He'll cum preferably inside you. Sihtric thinks you're so breedable and he loves it. That doesn't mean he wants to get you pregnant as soon as possible though, but he just loves to see his cum run down your thighs when he helps you clean up.

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Sihtric is a dom. A soft dom… a soft daddy dom to be more precise. He'll always keep you on your toes, because one moment he'll talk all sweetly to you and the next you'll be bent over his knee, made to count his spankings because you "broke" a rule or acted like a brat. And he'll talk sweetly to you during those punishments.

'Does that hurt, princess? Shh, I know, darling. But you forgot to keep counting, sweetheart, so now daddy has to start all over again.'

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

Sihtric is not into edgeplay, but will consider it if you'd ask him. He'd do a ton of research beforehand to make sure he knows exactly how to perform it safely. And once again he will set clear boundaries, because he would never want to put his princess in danger or cause any serious discomfort.

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Sihtric would really like it if you'd put on some of those fluffy cat ears and a cute mini skirt for him, just because he thinks you'd look adorable wearing that while he gives you a good spanking, before teasing and edging you until you cry. And then he'll fuck you while you're still wearing those ears and that short skirt.

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

He would lose his shit. For real. He'd go feral. Sihtric does not like to take risks like that. He is protective and a little possessive, although he tries to tone that down as much as he can. But he would never want anyone to see you in the act of having sex with him; because seeing you like that is only for his eyes and ears.

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated (EX: neck).

He's a guy, of course he gets aroused when you touch or kiss his neck. He also loves it when you hold and kiss his hands, because his hands are so big compared to yours and he likes that. He likes that you're smaller to him, so he can easily pick you up and throw you in bed.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

Sihtric is quite romantic in general (loves to buy you flowers for example and take you on bike rides during a nice sunset), but during sex there's not much romance going on. Your dom/sub dynamic doesn't really call for that, but that doesn't mean it's not an intimate feeling, because it truly is romantic in a different way.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex.

Once your dom/sub relationship is fully established, Sihtric wants you to behave in order for you to get rewarded. He has an app which he shares with you where you can tick off things you've done during the day in order to show good behaviour, for example; drinking enough water and eating enough. He loves seeing you cross off the "tasks" you did, knowing you're taking care of yourself, and it makes his oil smudged overalls fit rather tightly around his crotch area when he knows you're being a good girl for him. However, Sihtric also gets aroused when you did not do what he asked you to take care of yourself, because he knows he'll get to punish his princess next time he sees you, and that arouses him too.

K=Kinks - I’ll list a few of their kinks, be they the normalized ones or kinkier kinks.

He loves spanking, edging and hair pulling. But the spanking and edging he only enjoys performing on you, he doesn't mind getting his hair pulled. Sihtric is a bit of a sadist too as he gets off by seeing the tears roll down your face when you're being punished for your "bad behaviour". He only enjoys it because he knows there is a safeword agreed upon and that you will use it when you are truly not having fun anymore. But he's very careful to not cross that line. He enjoys his daddy dom role with you, as it's more a lifestyle; a secret lifestyle between the two of you actually. He simply loves to praise you and to be your dominant, taking care of you and making you feel loved, but he also needs to feel that you are always there for him too when needed.

L=Location -  Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Anywhere private is fine. He doesn't mind a more public place, like the repair shop for example, but he'll only have sex with you there when he's sure you won't get caught and the place is locked up.

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

You and Sihtric eventually agreed to have a rule that you won't touch yourselves, and will only be pleased by each other. However, sometimes you break this rule and that means spankings (Sihtric always finds out because you can't lie… and because he may or may not walk in on you touching yourself from time to time. He'll watch you silently in the door, only to clear his throat and startle you when you just finished). Sihtric is good at keeping his hands off himself, because he knows it'll feel so much better when he's with you than doing it himself. The only exception is if you two are apart for a long time for whatever reason, but then you'll still facetime each other in the process.

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

He would never cross a boundary you have set and he would never ignore a safeword. Sihtric is all about wanting to make you feel safe.

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Sihtric is easily turned on, it really doesn't take much, a simple touch will do it. A maybe more strange turn on is that he also loves it when you ask him for help, for example with simple tasks around the house, or when you ask him to order food for you. Knowing his girl needs his help and trusts him is a big turn on for him.

P=Position -  Their favourite position to have sex in.

Sihtric doesn't really have a favourite position, he enjoys it in every possible way. He does prefer to be able to see your face when you're on the verge of tears though, because he likes to see you enjoy him so thoroughly.

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

Sihtric prefers actual sex over a quickie, but he'll never say no to a quickie in the morning just before he heads off to work. It'll surely put him in a good mood.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

Sihtric can be pretty rough, but all within the agreed upon boundaries though.

'Remember I love you, princess, because I'll fuck you like I don't love you.'

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Sihtric lasts surprisingly long for someone who mainly lifts weights in the gym and doesn't always do much cardio. He can go for several rounds, but he'll need a moment to recover obviously. If anyone taps out it's you, because you're overstimulated.

T=Toys - Do use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.

Sihtric loves using toys on you, but not on himself. He loves to tease you with a vibrator until you can't take it anymore, only to then fuck you until you're screaming his name. And after that he'll wipe your tears and take you out for an ice cream.

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

He loves to tease you with risky texts during the day, but he also loves teasing you when you're with him just to see how worked up you get. It doesn't matter if it's in public, he'll tease you discretely until you're begging him to go home and take care of it. He'll whisper praises to you about how pretty you look and how he can't wait to take off your clothes later, while lightly trailing his fingers over your arms and back while you're out having a drink somewhere or are simply waiting in line at the grocery store.

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

As a soft dom, Sihtric mainly wants to hear the pretty sounds you make for him, therefore he will try to bite back his own moans. Instead of shouting out how good you feel or how well you're taking him, he will whisper it all in your ear, knowing that it will only make you louder.

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

Sihtric is totally into hentai.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

His body is scarred, but he looks perfect regardless, and luckily nothing down there got damaged in that crash ;)

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

Sihtric needs at least one quickie every day, he's horny like that. However, if you haven't behaved for him he is willing to torture himself for a day or two, just to punish you and make you beg for him eventually. But don't be fooled, because he is a needy dom too, and when he is desperate for you he'll let you know.

Z=ZZZ - How quickly they fall asleep after having sex.

He's absolutely awake after a quickie in the morning, but after longer sex in the evening he'll doze off rather fast. Only after making sure you are all cleaned up and feeling okay of course. He will never fall asleep without making sure you are feeling happy and safe.

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[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: here's part 3! Brace yourselves for part 4 😉 also heads up for slight ambessa x reader in this one - ✨

Warnings: drinking alcohol, mentioned cheating, smoking, gambling, possessive!sevika, referenced sex (explicit!), choking kink, biting, sexually explicit teasing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 1.7k

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

Well, damn. You had a type, there was no denying it. There was no chance you were gonna deny this hot, domineering woman a dance either. Smiling coyly, you nodded and offered her your hand, swooning internally and how little your hand felt in her much larger paws. When you reached the dancefloor there was no mistaking who was in charge, Ambessa holding you close to her body, spinning you every now and then but always bringing you right back into her space. Facing away from her and feeling her muscled arms encircling you as you grinded against her, you could almost imagine it was Sevika you were dancing with, pressing herself against you to wind you up just right.

‘Savage love, did somebody, did somebody break your heart…’

Ambessa’s breath tickled your neck as she held you close, her hands roaming over your hips and thighs, following your every movement.

'Lookin' like an angel, but your savage love…'

Ambessa’s grip tightened on your hips as you rolled them fluidly against her core, knowing you were hitting her in just the right spot. She buried her face in your neck, her sharp canines grazing your pulse point. You gasp, a rush of sticky heat blooming in your lower belly. You’re so distracted, you don’t see the poker chips go flying on the nearby tables, several players scrambling to gather the fallen coins and notes.

“Damn, sweet girl, you’re exquisite…”

'When you kiss me, I know you don't give two fucks…'

“Mind if I cut in?”

Your closed eyes snap open at the barely contained growl, the oh so familiar possessive undertones as Sevika now faced you on the dancefloor. She was wearing her most smug, self-satisfied smirk as she stood brazenly in your way, her hand extended to you. You didn’t miss how her mechanical arm was poised however, the fist clenched and the arm rigid. But she wasn’t really asking Ambessa if she could take over dancing with you. She was asking you if she could steal you away. Without thinking, you took a tentative step forward. Her smirk grew wider, her stance more relaxed. She was winning. You felt the grip at your waist tighten, and your heart sank.

Ambessa narrowed her eyes. “She’s occupied. Go back to your escort, she looks lonely.”

You allowed yourself to glance over where Sevika had been playing cards. Indeed, the girl who had previously been draped over Sevika’s lap now sat in the chair, pouting over at them. Dragging your attention back to the standoff occurring right in front of you, you winced internally, seeing Sevika’s eyes flash. There was no avoiding a brawl now, you were sure of it. Sevika wasn’t going to allow this complete stranger to talk to her like that.

To your surprise, Sevika ignored her entirely. “Y/n? Are you occupied?”

She sounded almost…soft. Sevika wasn’t one to ask, if she wanted something then she just took it. Like when the two of you couldn’t take the flirting and the teasing anymore so she just picked you up, threw you over her shoulder and carried you to the cellar where she kissed you hard, and made you beg to be fucked. This was not a Sevika you were accustomed to.

“I…I guess we can have a dance, Sevika.”

You reach forward and interlace your fingers with hers. It feels like coming home, but you push that feeling down as far as it’ll go. Now is not the time to reopen old wounds. No matter how much you loved the pain.

Ambessa scoffed, shaking off the rejection and stalking back to the bar muttering to herself. “Guess I’ll just go fuck myself…I’m too old for this shit.”

Sevika chuckled before tugging at you sharply, pressing herself against you. “Much better.”

“You are unbelievable, you know that?”

“Unbelievably what? Attractive? Charming? Good at sex? Yeah, I know, genetics I guess.”

She spins you so you’re facing away from her, mirroring the position you were just in with Ambessa. No doubt to rub it in the other woman’s face. Sevika was many things, subtle was not one of them.

“You better hope Jinx doesn’t see this; she’ll tear your head off.”

Sevika purred a soft, breathy laugh right by your ear. “I’ll take the risk, princess.”

Her rough, calloused hand trailed up your bare arms, leaving raised hairs in its wake at the sensation. Your head lolled back, Sevika humming as you fit yourself even more snugly against her. On instinct, you began to roll your hips and grind against her. Just like old times. Sevika groaned, rolling her own hips to meet yours.

“Fuck, you feel so good, princess.”

A jolt of sheer want roiled through you. You couldn’t do this, not here, not with her. It was too involved; you’d worked too hard to get over her. You couldn’t breathe. You broke free of Sevika’s grasp, running for the door to the alleyway, Sevika’s calls for you muffled by the loud music and the blood rushing in your ears.

The alleyway was dark but much cooler. The heat of the club, of Sevika’s body against yours, of your aching, begging cunt desperate for relief…it was too much. Taking deep breaths, you leaned against the grimy wall, not caring what substances could be lurking on it.

“Y/n? You okay there?”

You snarled, irritated. Of course. She had to follow you out here, had to make sure you were okay. Had to continue taunting you, even though she didn’t care about you anymore.

“What do you want, Sev? I don’t hear from you for months, which is fine seeing as we’re not fucking anymore but tonight, you’re all over me? I don’t get you at all!”

Sevika was quiet, coming to stand beside you as she lit up a joint. The smoke trickled down to you, the musky scent reminding you of being curled up in a warm, messy bed next to Sevika as she smoked and trailed lazy circles on your back. You wafted the smoke away; those memories were unwelcome reminders of a simpler time.

“I fucked up.”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

She sighs, puffing on her joint again. “I fucked up. Badly. I’m sorry for it…for all of it.”

You knew what she was referring to. The time when you two had actually been a couple, supposedly. Where you cooked Sevika dinner when she came home, and she spent her nights making you scream her name. Where you thought, this could be it. She could be my forever. Until you came home one night after a long shift and found her with not one but two of Babette’s escorts.

You were too sober for this. You gestured at the joint. “Give me some of that.”

She didn’t question you, just passed it to you. Taking a deep inhale, you allowed yourself to enjoy the warm feeling spreading from your lungs into your chest and through your whole body, the familiar taste of Sevika’s favourite blend coating your tongue.

“I, uh, I looked for you that night. When you, you know…”

“When I caught you with those whores?”

She flinches slightly at your bitter tone. “Yeah. I looked for you everywhere…but you vanished.”

Your heart squeezes at the forlorn note of her voice, and you try desperately to ignore it along with the clenching of your cunt, the heat forming there proving that you still wanted nothing more than to cheer her up by letting her take you against this wall.

“I went to stay with Jinx for a while.”

Sevika’s eyes flashed again, only for a moment. “Of course, you did. How is your new girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes. “She is not my girlfriend, Sev. She is my best friend. That’s why she hates you, you broke my heart.”

Another flashback tore through your memory at your words, Sevika laughing heartily with you as she promises that she might break your bed, but she’ll never break your heart before pouncing on you. Liar. You grit your teeth, forcing the memories away.

Sevika sighs heavily. “I know. I never did deserve it in the first place.”

“What changed that night? What made you hire those girls?”

“To tell you the truth, y/n, I don’t know. I could tell you a thousand sob stories and excuses, but none of them matter. I acted like an ass, and I paid the price.”

“So, you really don’t know why?”

Sevika puffed a cloud of smoke. “I was scared, I guess. Of a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Losing my reputation. Not being good enough for you. Endangering you, because of my line of work. Not being able to protect you.”

Tears streamed down your face. “If you’d just talked to me, we could’ve worked through all of that!”

Sevika’s eyes flashed again, but not with anger. Frustration, regret, a spark of hope. “You think I don’t know that?! You think I don’t beat myself up every damn day knowing that instead of talking to the most precious girl in my life, I went to Babette’s and hired two whores to fuck it out of my system, like a no good dog?!”

You don’t know what makes you do it. The way she picks at her clothes, a fidgety habit she developed when she really wants to touch you, but she can’t. The way your heart aches at her confession. The fact that you’ve wanted her, needed her like a drug since you left her. The way she looks utterly lost, and yet still so in love with you.

You don’t know why. But you do it anyway.

You’re kissing her softly at first, her salty tears dripping onto your lips. Your fingers curl into her hair, stroking into her scalp just as you know she likes. She tastes like tobacco, and the feeling spiking through your every nerve is pure passion and fire.

Soon, the passion takes over. Her tongue is in your mouth again, and she’s taking control. She pushes you against the wall, hard. God, you have missed this. She raised one of your knees, slotting her thigh between your legs and pressing herself into your core. You moan wantonly, not caring who hears. She bites and sucks into your neck, painful, possessive marks and you beg her for more.

“Oh, princess, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You’re so wet, you know your panties are ruined. But you want Sevika to ruin you more. As her hands begin to wander south, you stop her, panting and crazy with want.

“Take me home. Now.”

Sevika doesn’t need to be told twice.

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