#forgot the 'shirt pocket' option

[fruityfroggy]

Anywhom,

Mediepoket

OMGOMGOMG AKDSJVDKVIJGHSDGRSGOIHSRG

I rlly liked this picrew from the picrew chain I was recently in, so I tried something out

IT ACTUALLY KINDA WORKED FOR ONCE WAAAAAAAHH SMOL LILYA

Also, bonus Verdigris (from when I realized that we were making ourselves instead of just anyone for the picrew chain, but I already finished making her. She turned out cute tho):

(iykyk heheheh)

[brabblesblog]

Ch 15: Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Complications from the rescue collide with realizations about just how hard healing really is.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Astarion fell and she caught him in her arms. He looked impossibly small and frail, and - though the thought brought a small wave of guilt to Ban - still impossibly beautiful.

Ban’s giant form finally released her, shrinking her back down. She cradled Astarion tightly. Rhapsody protruded from his chest, jolting erratically with every beat of the heart it was buried in.

She braced against the stabbing, tearing pain. As he had felt her staking, she felt his.

“Astarion.” For a moment, she forgot where they were, forgot the danger, forgot Gale, forgot everything but him. For a moment…

…there was only red.

The ruby of his beautiful eyes, glassy with pain. The scarlet blooming from the wound on his chest, spreading across his shirt. The crimson haze of rage and the red-hot agony, swirling in her own breast.

The urge to rip Vel apart became overwhelming and Ban turned, fully intending to give in to it. Instead, the spawn descended upon him and secured for themselves the freedom that should always have been theirs.

Astarion winced; his body shuddered and he felt the familiar grasp of death, the viselike grip on his chest unyielding and so cold. He wanted to tell Ban he loved her. That knowing her had been a privilege. That his time with her, as short as it had been, had been the happiest he’d ever had, and he was grateful for it. That she was everything to him. That she should find love again, someday. That he would look for her, in whatever lay beyond the veil of his true death.

But he was the Ascendant, and his power slowly took hold, oblivion withdrawing its grasp, death retreating like the ebbing of the tide.

It wasn’t enough to heal a wound this grievous, no. But it might just keep him alive.

Astarion raised his hand, reaching for her cheek, calling her attention back to him. She pressed her face against it.

“You fucking idiot,” she hissed, “Why did you-”

He shook his head, shushing her. “It’s okay. Just… pull it out, love?”

They both looked down at the dagger.

She was unsure.

Vampires could regenerate and the Ascendant at an even faster rate, but Rhapsody was unique. Likely made specifically for the rite, it had given Astarion his scars, had cut into Cazador’s back and they hadn’t healed. Pulling it out could help his regeneration, but it could also cause more damage or even cause him to bleed out.

In this, every option was a gamble.

Her hand carefully grasped the hilt of the dagger. She could feel it twitching in time with Astarion’s failing heart, the beat now irregular and alarmingly fast.

“Don’t!” Gale shouted, rushing to her side. “There are potions in his pocket. I provided him with some. Stabilize him first. Then we bring him to my tower and we’ll do… something.” He inspected the wound, unsure what could be done, but he wouldn’t risk pulling the dagger out until they were somewhere safe at least.

Ban reached into Astarion’s pocket, fingers fumbling until she found the pouch. She pulled it out; took the bottle and uncapped it, tipping its contents into his open mouth.

Work. Please work.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut; she wanted to scream at him to stay awake. Stay with me, please. Don’t go. Not now. Not ever. Please. But his hand on her face stayed put.

Still here, he thought at her, his body responding a little to the potion. She felt her own pain ease slightly, mirroring his, and wordlessly pressed a kiss to his unresponsive lips.

Enxisys approached uneasily; Ban tightened her grip on Astarion, barely containing a protective snarl.

“We… we have a teleportation circle, if you need it,” Enxisys mumbled pensively; it was a far cry from her demeanor at the party.

Gale went to talk to her and the quiet murmur of their voices immediately receded from Ban’s attention.

She couldn’t think, simply did not have room in her mind for anything other than Astarion. She slipped her hands under him, lifting him up. He groaned softly; she shifted him in her arms so that his head lolled against her chest. The sound was so unlike him, so frail. She found herself desperately longing to hear one of his snide quips, his witty disdain, his laughter, hells, she’d even take the Ascendant’s anger. Anything but that broken sound. She glanced up, realizing Gale must have made travel arrangements. He gestured for her to bring Astarion.

Following Enxisys and Gale, Ban walked gingerly, trying to keep her gait as smooth as possible, not wanting to jostle Astarion. As they walked, he mumbled into her chest, words too soft and too incoherent for her to understand. She tried to soothe him, her mind touching his. I’ve got you. We’re headed to Gale’s. Just stay with me. Just a little bit more. They eventually reach the room with the teleportation circle and were teleported to Gale’s tower.

Ban rushed through Gale’s tower as fast as possible without causing Astarion additional pain. Finding the guest room, she very gently laid him down on the bed, sitting beside him and squeezing his hand as Gale came in with an armful of potions and bandages. He set Ban’s pack and their weapons down in the corner of the room.

Gale split the bottles into two groups.

“Idea,” he began, “Half of this is for Astarion to take the moment we pull the dagger out. The other half-”

Ban understood. “I take the other half to replenish my own blood as he feeds on me.”

Gale nodded. Theoretically, the blood would be more beneficial to Astarion’s healing than pouring all the potions down his throat.

Steeling herself, Ban grasped Rhapsody’s hilt again. Astarion’s eyes were shut, his breathing shallow from the pain. Gale uncapped the first half of the potions, then parted Astarion’s lips, ready to pour.

“This will hurt, love. I’m so sorry.” He moaned in response, and she took that as an affirmative. Cupping his cheek, she leaned down to kiss his clammy forehead before giving Gale a quick nod.

They moved as one. Ban pulled Rhapsody out with a sickening squelch; Astarion barely had enough time to let out a pained groan before Gale began administering bottle after bottle of the potion, occasionally rubbing Astarion’s throat to encourage him to swallow.

Tossing the dagger aside, she firmly pressed bandages against the wound, stemming the flow of blood. The sight of it made her mouth water, the smell of it suffused her senses. Ban shoved the hunger aside and looked up to see Gale pouring the last bottle into Astarion’s mouth.

Hurry.

The moment the bottle was empty it was replaced with Ban’s wrist pressing against Astarion’s parted lips. For one terrifying moment, he was unresponsive. His mouth remained slack, and her stomach rolled in a way that had nothing to do with blood.

“Astarion,” Ban murmured urgently, nudging his mouth. If he doesn’t respond soon, I’ll have to make a wound for him to drink from. That would at least get him started.

His eyes flickered open, barely, but he found enough strength to bare his fangs.

He drank.

Ban’s eyes did not leave his face as she began to take bottles from the other half of the healing potions, drinking whenever she started feeling a little faint. She dared not speak, couldn’t even think, entirely focused on his healing. Her eyes tracked his every swallow, every rise and fall of his chest, every twitch of his body. Eventually, she saw the color return to his skin, ears slowly turning pink at the tips, his breathing became less labored. His wound began to close, the bleeding under the bandages slowed and then ceased altogether. She was relieved beyond measure to see the pain slowly drain from his face, to feel it receding from him through their bond.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut, and for once he did not hold back when feeding from her. He swallowed over and over, savoring mouthful after mouthful, because it was given, freely and without demand for reciprocation.

Because it was her, her essence and her life and her love.

He didn’t stop drinking for a very long time.

Ban closed the door behind her silently. Inside, Astarion was asleep, having slipped into trance the moment he had filled his belly. The wound wasn’t completely healed yet, and he would be vulnerable for a day or two, but the worst was behind him.

She headed to Gale’s study, finding him poring over sheafs of papers. He looked up at her entrance and she smiled.

“Yes?” Gale shifted to face her.

“Astarion’s fine. He’s resting.” She leaned against the doorway, awkwardly shifting her weight to one foot. “We might have bled on your sheets. Sorry.”

Gale scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. You’re most welcome to stay here until he is better.”

“He probably won’t take long to recover.” Ban entered the room, sitting in the armchair by the fireplace. She kept her eyes on Gale. “Thank you, by the way. He’ll never say it, but he’s grateful, too.”

“I have the distinct impression he’s more inclined to gut me than to offer anything resembling appreciation.”

“He’s…” She watched Gale continue to work. “Well. Insecure.” Astarion would loathe her saying so, but what of it?

“We all know that. Even before he ascended we knew. He was just better at keeping it to himself back then.”

“Actually-” she began, then hesitated. Should she tell Gale, and by extension, the rest of their companions?

He perked up, curious.

“He’s trying,” she finally settled on saying. “It’s slow going, and it will take time. But he’s making an effort.”

“And what then, Ban, when he has you again?” Gale couldn’t help but ask. “What happens the day he no longer fears losing you, the day his patience runs out yet again?”

She tried to hide the flash of fear at the thought.

“I - he won’t.”

“How can you be so certain?”

Ban felt her temper rise. “I can’t. I can only trust that he won’t.”

Gale finally looked away from the papers he’d been grading to meet Ban’s eyes.

“Do you trust him?”

A valid question from her best friend, but a painful one. If he’d asked about her love, that would’ve been easy. She could’ve given an honest ‘Yes, of course. More than anything’ and been free of this uncomfortable conversation. But Gale had always been intelligent - and far too intuitive - and he saw right through her. Love was easy, but trust? She hadn’t been the most trusting or open person to start with, and then the Ascendant had crushed what little she’d managed to build. They’d made so much progress, and yet…

She wanted to say yes, but found that the word was stuck in her throat.

Astarion opened his eyes to see Ban sitting in an armchair beside his bed, asleep. He pushed himself up, disoriented. The room was unfamiliar. Then the memories came, and he placed a palm over his chest, finding unmarred flesh.

He reached for his wife.

“Love.”

She stirred and he took her hand, tugging gently.

“Come lie down with me.”

Ban did so, carefully settling her head on his shoulder, and as her arms wrapped around him, he was swathed in warmth and comfort. Her blood ran hot in his veins, her body wrapped around him, pliant and soothing. Astarion hadn’t felt loved like this in a while, and his body responded to it. His breathing quickened, her blood rushing to his cock.

“How are you feeling?” Ban asked quietly.

“Better, now that you’re here.” He tightened his grip on her, hands idly stroking her hair.

She trembled a little, the last of her emotional strength ebbing away as he held her. The hand wrapped around his torso tightened as she made an effort to not break down.

“I’m here, Ban.” Astarion leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “There isn’t anything to fear.”

She whimpered, and then she was on him, lips crashing against his with a fiery, desperate need.

Astarion grasped her hips, pulling her up, encouraging her to straddle him. Her weight settled on his cock and made him groan. His hips hitched up, pressing his length into her. He rutted helplessly, tilting his head back as she kissed a path down his neck. His cock felt the warmth of her mound through their clothes; he knew her wetness would be beginning to pool within. His hands scrabbled to undo the laces of her trousers.

“Fuck.” The word escaped from his lips in a guttural moan as he finally managed to untangle the knot his fumbling had made of her laces. His hands dove to her waistband to forcefully shove the trousers and drawers down and off. He glanced up to meet her gaze, seeing the lust he felt reflected in the dark pools of her eyes.

Ban sat up, splaying a hand against his chest for support. She playfully ground against his clothed cock, eliciting a gravelly moan from him. There was too much between them.

“Feel that?” he breathed when she rolled against his length again. His cock felt too hot, too tight, too hard. “Feel what you do to me, Ban.”

I love you. I need you. I want you.

He grabbed her ass, fingers digging in hard. He urged her upwards, trying to get her to scoot higher up - a lot higher.

She looked down, realizing what he wanted, huffed out a soft scoff, filled with relief and amusement in equal measure. “Really? Someone’s eager. And apparently feeling much better.”

“Well, you know. Near-death experiences and all that.” His eyes were half-lidded, lips curled into a smirk.

“I’m pretty sure I heard that line from Gale once,” she teased, and they both laughed.

Astarion fixed her with a sultry look, eyes filled with unbridled hunger.

“Sit on my face, darling.”

She obliged; the moment his mouth made contact with her was paradise. She gripped the headboard for support, hips involuntarily rolling, fucking his mouth.

Astarion eagerly lapped at her, tasting her slickness as his tongue flattened and spread her open. He worked at his trousers, freeing his cock. He didn’t touch himself yet, instead moving his hands back to Ban’s ass, pressing her tighter against his mouth. Her hips rolled in response, dragging herself against his tongue again; his own hips thrust up reflexively.

The need was exquisite, the ache in his cock almost tortuous. He could feel himself throbbing insistently, beads of precum forming at his tip. If he touched himself now, he would come immediately.

To think I almost lost this, almost lost it all. I’ll never waste another moment. Not one.

Instead, he focused on Ban, finding her clit and laving it with quick flicks of his tongue. Slipping two fingers inside her, he found her drenched and ready for him. His cock twitched violently, begging for something - anything - but he fought the urge to pleasure himself.

“Astarion,” she moaned, more than halfway gone in the throes of passion. She was barely aware, but enough to know he would need more. She leaned back to wrap a hand around his cock.

A low hum of pleasure greeted her the moment she touched him. His skin was hot, cock painfully hard and his tip glazed with precum. She stroked him slowly, languidly, making sure to linger at the head. He whined, the sound muffled by her folds; he began devouring her with increased fervor. She was close, her hips moving faster, grinding her clit against his worshipful mouth.

Astarion’s mind didn’t even exist for him; the pleasure between his legs and his need to make her come, his love for her, became his whole world. His fingers increased their pace inside her, tongue working in tandem to bring her to the edge. Her hand stilled as she lost the ability to focus, and eventually pulled away from his cock, but he didn't protest. There would be time for that later.

She loves me. That was all he really needed.

Ban whined, her thighs flexing hard on either side of his head. It only encouraged him; he stopped breathing entirely and just licked, fingers fucking her relentlessly. His own hips rolled, desperate for the friction that just a moment ago was there. The ache in his cock was immense, and he loved it.

He was pretty sure they’d ruined Gale’s sheets, between his injury and this, and that brought a vicious, petty wave of satisfaction.

Astarion looked up to meet Ban’s eyes. The gaze he leveled at her was well-practiced, seductive. Designed to make people come undone. His mouth made another pass, suckling, tongue flicking against her clit, and he took in the sight as her orgasm ripped through her.

She screamed his name, thighs spasming against his head with crushing strength, her weight pressing down on him as she rode out her climax. He mouthed at her throughout, eating her up like a starving man offered his favorite meal. He felt a gush of her slickness around his fingers and knowing he’d made her come that hard shot a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. His hips writhed and he moaned in delight.

Ban slowly came back to herself, slumping forward. The hand on Astarion’s chest kept her up, but just barely.

He waited until she began settling to resume breathing, pulling his mouth and fingers away. His face was coated; he licked his lips playfully.

“Good, love?”

She nodded, a little dazed. Offering him a small, almost shy smile, she moved lower down his body. For a moment, she hovered over him.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?” He tilted his head, excitement giving way to curiosity.

Her smile widened, and she took him in her hand, lining them up.

“I love you,” she purred as she sank down.

Those words, so rarely meant these long months, took his breath away. He’d had to ask, to demand, to beg for them; now they were freely given, and he nearly came then and there.

He felt her walls clench all around him as she began to ride him.

Her blood, filling his cock, his body. Her core, squeezing every drop of pleasure from him. Her, just her fucking him - no - making love to him.

Loved. I am loved.

He watched Ban ride him, every roll of her hips sending a great wave of pleasure through him. The waves built higher and higher, pushing him closer to ecstasy. He could feel her all around him, hot and tight and eager and wet just for him.

“Ride me harder, my love,” he crooned, his fingers digging into her thighs.

More, I want more. He began to thrust up into her as well, matching her rhythm.

Ban placed a hand over his chest, enjoying the desperate pounding of his heart. Her hips obeyed his request, transitioning from a soft roll to a rapid, punishing grind that made her legs burn.

Astarion felt himself approaching the edge, her walls dragging against and squeezing his cock with every roll of her hips. His eyes fell shut as he gave in to the sensations, lips parting, panting from sheer need. He wanted to make this last, but his body had been craving this release for far too long.

“Love-” he managed to say before his orgasm ripped through him. He whined, his nails clawing Ban’s thighs as his pleasure exploded. His hips lost their tempo, stuttering wildly. Astarion’s vision went white, and for a moment there was nothing but the sensation of spilling his seed inside his wife - of sweet, sweet release.

He eventually opened his eyes to see Ban smiling down at him. She rolled her hips one last time, making him squirm, cock oversensitive. She leaned down to kiss him, then pulled away, separating them.

Astarion didn’t let her go far; he tugged her to his chest, peppering her face with small, feathery kisses.

“Sorry,” she said, a little embarrassed about how aggressive she’d been.

“Whatever would you be apologizing for?”

“This. I got scared.” She shuddered, remembering the blood pooling, the dagger protruding from his chest.

He held her tighter. “I understand. You needed to be reminded of this. Of us. Of being alive.”

She nodded, burying her face in his chest. They were silent for a short while.

“That wasn’t the smartest idea, wasn’t it?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

“What wasn’t?”

“Waiting for the spawn to kill Vel,” he clarified. “I should have let you finish him, or ended him myself.”

It would have avoided his injury, at the very least.

Ban snorted. “Strategically, perhaps. I shouldn’t have turned my back on Vel, nor pulled you off of him. But you needed them to be the ones to do it.”

He considered this and found that he agreed. Outwardly, he tried to remain nonchalant. “Oh, no, darling. I just wanted to see the look on Vel’s face when his spawn tore him apart. A shame I missed it.”

“You do have a heart, you know? As much as you like denying it.”

Astarion stiffened, caught, but the tension broke and he laughed.

“Considering that it almost stopped again today, I suppose I have to admit that I do.”

She looked up at him and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He saw a slight sadness on her face.

“Something wrong?”

Ban’s face darkened, then just as quickly as the expression came, it disappeared.

“Just worried about you.”

There was a waver in her tone that told him it wasn’t the entire truth.

Astarion wished it wasn’t the case, but he was also aware that there was still something off with her. Ban today, in his arms, and the Ban before he ascended were not quite the same. With everything that had happened he feared she might never be the same, that she would forever be tarnished by his sins.

What would he do, then?

She had once been more open, vulnerable, much more willing to trust. And then he had ruined her.

He wasn’t surprised that all was not yet truly well between them - he knew better than most how hard it was to move past trauma - but a small seed of resentment remained. He had risked his life for her, nearly died in the process, and yet her reaction was, at best, muted.

How long must I keep proving myself?

[imfinereallyy]

cw: drugs, morally grey characters

The bathroom doesn’t give the kind of quiet Steve needs right now.

What should have he expected in a club on Friday night?

Fuck, think Harrington. What would Robin do?

She probably wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place, that’s what. God she is going to kill him if he doesn’t check in later.

Steve takes a deep breath, trying to get comfortable on his spot on the toilet. His jeans are going to be disgusting later.

The bass thumped loudly throughout the bathroom. The walls shook as the music makes its way in as the door swings open with each patron rushing in out.

He is never going to get the kind of privacy he needs to get out of this.

The red glow of the lights seems more fitting for a place for people to fuck in rather than take a piss, but Steve supposes that maybe it’s the point.

Coming to blank, the point was to either get fucked or get fucked up.

Running his hands through his hair, Steve went over his options.

1. He has a knife in his boot. Steve isn’t afraid of the consequences of killing a man, his soul lost the right to be saved a long time ago. But he doesn’t feel too good about killing someone at random. Death should have a point if it is coming from the hands of a man. He’ll leave the pointless deaths up to a god he doesn’t believe in.

2. He can try and make a break for it. He only has a sea of partiers to get through, at least half of them on coke or molly. And make it to the parking lot without getting caught by security, and then find a way to get home.

Fuck.

3. Dump the drugs, flush them down the toilet. Worry about money later.

Considering the guy after him is a fucking FBI agent, and Steve would love nothing more to get rid of a glorified cop, he doesn’t feel like putting his face on the top of FBI’s most wanted list.

Flushing it is.

Steve takes the baggies of coke out of his pockets. Sure, he won’t go away for long if the agent caught him with it, but it will give the bureau an opportunity to try and get him to talk, and Steve despite popular belief isn’t fucking stupid. He isn’t going to talk.

Even if he wants to, Steve is sure that his head would have a pretty little bullet hole in it before he even steps into court for arraignment.

No matter who his father is. Maybe especially cause so.

Steve can feel the sweat start to pool at the bottom of his shirt. He hasn’t taken anything tonight, maybe he should thank that mythical god he doesn’t believe in for that one. But Steve’s stress is going up with the temperature of the room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Steve stands and kicks up the rim of the toliet, he can’t afford to miss.

His head starts to pound with the base.

Bump. Bump. Bump. Slam.

The world crashes with noise. Steve has no time before his stall door is thrown open. Steve forgot to lock the fucking door.

Steve throws his hands up, baggies still in his hands, sweat dripping down his back. Chest heaving up and down, Steve is frozen at the sight in front of him.

It’s not the FBI, which is good.

It’s not his boss, which is better.

But in front of him, is one of the most beautiful men he has ever seen. A dark shadow lit up but the red lights. Long, curly black hair falls upon a red silk shirt. Tattoos, rings, piercings…everywhere. Big brown eyes staring directly at Steve.

Gorgeous…

Unfortunately he’s not only one of the most beautiful men out there….

“Hey there princess.”

…but also the most dangerous..

“I believe you have something that interests me.” The man all but growls.

Eddie fucking Munson.

Steve finds the courage to speak, “Yea, what’s that?”

A wicked grin spreads across his lips, “A ticket in.”

Steve’s worried he might have to make a deal with the devil.

🪩🫧🍸 🔪🥂🫧✧˖°

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 11

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: NSFW, Smut

First (Consum)Mate

You knew it was a dream because the setting kept changing. One second you were in the sun of the island and the next you were in the dark of Kid's cabin. The constant was that you were on top of Killer, who was filling your ear with praise, your face shoved into his neck trying to muffle your sounds while Kid had a vice grip on your hips, yanking you back to meet his thrusts. 

Kid had dismissed Wire and Heat a while ago. He leaned against the wall, still pissed off. The captain had dragged Synth down to the brig to take his anger out on him, but damn you, you had already knocked him out. The fun part was listening to them beg or cry or scream and the piece of shit was dead silent. Kid was kicking himself for allowing a guest on his ship to get attacked. He had a reputation to uphold. The only person that was to be feared on this ship was him and only him, and sometimes Killer. Killer. When are ya going to come back ta us? Kid tried to focus his mind elsewhere by watching your back rise and fall. Every so often your breathing would change slightly. The longer he watched, he noticed sounds other than your breaths and small twitches periodically. He thought you might be having a nightmare. Kid contemplated whether or not to wake you up. He walked over to you and was about to shake your shoulder, but snatched his hand back when he saw the way you clutched at the sheets of the gurney. Those were notwhimpers of fright. His face went as red as his hair. It felt wrong to be privy to the sweet intimate murmurs coming from your mouth, especially since he knew you would loathe him for it, which is maybe why it turned him on so much. Kid knew he was a big pervert and was not ashamed of it. He was banned from walking the halls next to the women's quarters after dark for being caught with his ear against the door to the showers too many times. His ears perked up. Did she just...? He swore he heard you say his name. He didn't get a chance to listen for it again, unfortunately, as you started to wake up. 

Why do I always wake up at the best parts?  You groaned and stretched. "Man, I was about to cum, too," you mumbled. If you had only seen Kid's face as you said it. You looked around for Heat and noticed Kid right next to you, nearly slipping out of your skin with embarrassment. Should you assume he didn't hear it or should you try to cover it up? Or the secret third option: yell at him. "WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME SLEEP, YOU FUCK?" You kind of forgot that you thought he was going to skin you a few hours ago. Maybe you shouldn't have yelled at him. 

Kid grinned. "And wake ya up? When ya were having such a lovely dream?" He noticed for the first time that you were wearing an old shirt of Killer's. As if that wasn't enough to drive him insane with lust, it was bunched up, revealing your leg up to the hip. He was practically salivating, "Ya need any help with the ending?" 

You were confused. Earlier you thought he would be livid with you, yet here he was being a rabid horndog. "First of all, aren't you mad at me? And really? I'm..." you looked down at the various bandages and bruises. "I'm a fucking mess." You gestured to your face. "My fucking eye is gone." 

"The only reason I'm mad at ya is that ya didn't leave anything for me." He dug in his pocket for something, producing your log pose eye. You grabbed at it, but he pulled it away. "Still...pretty fuckin hot ta watch ya beat the shit outta him. Wish I saw the whole thing." He held your eye just out of your reach. Your leg fucking ached but you jumped for it. Kid leered at you, as every jump made your tits and thighs jiggle. You managed to catch his wrist. Reflexively, to get higher, you grabbed onto him like you were going to climb a tree, legs wrapped around his waist and your other hand buried in the feathers of his coat. In your determination to get your log pose back, it didn't occur to you the compromising nature of the position. You only realized that when you felt a cold, metal arm support your bare ass. "How bout we make another deal?" He set you on the edge of Killer's stretcher, placing himself between your knees. His dick was getting hard under your cold glare already, and the fact he could see that you had nothing on under your shirt didn't make it any less hard. Kid was initially going to trade your log pose back for a quick fuck, but your glare gave him an absolutely sinister idea. "I'll give this back... when ya earn it back." Kid rolled it around in his palm, licking his lips, and shoved it back in his pocket. 

Something about the way he said it made you shift uncomfortably, not because you didn't like it, but just the opposite. It gave you goosebumps. It made your skin hot. It pissed you off how much you liked when he was mean to you. You wanted to press your knees together but Kid stood in the way. "Sounds like I don't have a choice." 

"Ya don't," Kid put his hands on your knees and slid them up your thighs, gripping your ass and scooting you closer to the edge. His flesh hand dipped into your core, eliciting a groan from you. "All this just from dreamin about me?" He slipped another finger in, slowly testing what you responded to.

"Nndon't flatter yourself. Just haven't... in a long time." Your forehead was resting against Kid's lower chest as you tried to avoid feeding his ego. Metal moved your hand to touch him through his pants. You were glad he couldn't see the brief second where your eyes widened. Kid was well-endowed, you already knew that from the encounter on the island. It was different now that it was right in front of you, heavy in your hand as you stroked him over the fabric. You looked up into smoldering orange eyes, feeling small for once. "What about... uh..." Your eyes moved to Killer. 

"Hah? Get used it. Killer likes ta join in." Kid stopped moving his fingers and laughed. "I knew ya were Rotten." Kid withdrew his fingers, and licked them clean. He leaned down to bite your neck, trailing up to your ear. "Ya got so wet when I mentioned Killer. I think ya want him to watch." Kid hungrily kissed you, tongue running over your split lip and tasting blood. He moved your hand out of the way to unbuckle his belts and tugged his pants down just far enough to release his cock from its confines. "I bet ya were dreamin of the two of us splittin ya in two, weren't ya?" Kid grinned as he pressed against your entrance. 

You could have guessed Kid was big into dirty talk. "Do you ever shut u-?" You knew exactly what you were doing by taunting him and still sucked in air as he pushed his length into you. The burning stretch of your pussy around him made you forget whatever jab you were going to throw, instead the only thing coming from your mouth was a drawn out moan that he captured in a kiss. Already, you felt the tightening knot in your lower belly. Your arms went around his neck, with your fingers gripping his red locks, and your legs tightened around his waist.

He devoured every delicious whine, every little moan, sliding his tongue against yours. Your gummy walls felt so good squeezing his dick. He figured you would be tight, especially if you hadn't fucked in a while, but this was better than he imagined. His hands pushed your shirt further up, metal hand steadying your hips and flesh hand kneading your tits, just as soft and warm as he wanted them to be. It pleased him that you had tits big enough to take up his entire hand. Kid wanted so badly to flip you over and rail you from behind. That wasn't feasible in this space and neither was fucking into you at his normal blistering pace. He had to tone it down or the three of you would end up on the floor. 

One of your hands dropped to play with your clit as every thrust brought you closer to your climax. "Keep nnngoing, Cap-nn," you groaned. Kid's response was a grunt and to fuck you harder, his own words lost as he also approached his high. One last bump to your cervix had you unravelling, seeing stars. You pushed your face into Kid's shoulder to muffle your loud cries of pleasure, but Kid pulled your hair, forcing you to spill them to the world. When he did that, your head was turned ever so slightly, yet enough to see Killer sitting up on his elbows with wide crystalline-blue eyes. "K-iller!" You shrieked. 

Kid's mind was clouded with the pursuit of his own release, still pumping his hips in you. "I know ya didn't just say his name insteada mine," he panted between thrusts. He was too bewitched by pussy to be mad. You were completely frozen as Kid bent over you with a grunt, finally reaching his end. He saw you looking away from him. "What's yer deal, doll?" His hand was about to turn you to face him when his best friend's voice stopped him completely. 

"What the fuck, Kid?" 

Next

[wafflepatterns]

Meet new sewing pattern <Komugi> Over shirt

A new item is just published from Waffle Patterns. Meet Over shirt <Komugi> sewing pattern, a work wear style over shirt with many functional pockets. Depending on your fabric and design choice, it will be a work shirt, uniform-like service shirt or outdoor style shirt jacket. You can make just a simple shirt as well.

<design options>

View A features a hidden button stand front opening + patch side pockets + an inside pocket. The patch side pockets are 2 types ; side opening or layered type. The cuff is no-opening design.

View B has a normal button stand + seam pocket + back bent and cuff opening.

The chest pocket design has 2 options, layer type or zipper pocket.

View A is intended as non-scratch design suitable for a work shirt especially if you are working on fragile things. View B can be made as a more outdoor-like shirt jacket with details like cuff openings or a vent. But of course you can choose and mix the options as you like!

The khaki sample in the photos features viewA, and the red plaid one is view B. The caramel brown one has mixed features.

My favourite feature is the sleeve patches. Adding compliment textures/colours is really fun! But you can sew without them, too.

Please make your creative style by mixing your favourite details.

<fabric recommendation>

The pattern is drafted for woven fabrics. Light-medium weight durable shirt fabrics are recommended. like corduroy, duck, twill, denim, linen, flannel, light wool or canvas etc.

It is not impossible to use very light drapery fabric, but those are not suitable for some details like patch pockets or vent.

Also, some very thick/stiff fabrics might not work well for details like pockets with facing. In that case, please consider using other lighter fabrics partly like the inside yoke, facing, or pocket parts.

Please choose a suitable one for your design intension.

For the caramel brown sample in the photos, I used cotton canvas. Suitable for work shirts and very easy to handle. The contrast fabric used for the sleeve patch and pocket layer is faux suede.

If you want very durable patches, leather or rubber-mixed fabrics are used for professional work apparel. But for general daily usage, like mine, design oriented choice like nice compliment colours or textures will be enough. Using leftover or old clothes is a fun choice, too.

The khaki sample is cotton ripstop. This one is also very suitable for work wear. The patch part is mixed twill.

The red plaid one is light wool backed fleece. I backed all the pieces with fleece except the folded parts like pocket openings or hem.

I bought all those fabrics from my local fabric market, but most of them are from years ago. I wanted to share where I bought them, but I actually forgot all.

I think light water repellent or windproof fabrics are nice functional options, too.

<Size>

The shirt is drafted regular fit.

I made on size bigger the red plaid sample because I wanted to wear this as a jacket. Also because the fabric gets thicker with fleece backing.

The caramel brown and khaki samples were made with just fit size.

<Other material>

If you attach the hidden button stand design, it is better to use flat and thin buttons for clean look opening.

*********************

The sewing pattern includes 18 pages of instructions and all the sewing processes are described with detailed illustrations. The pattern files are available for both home printers (A4 or US letter) and copyshop(A0 format).

You can check other photos of this model on my Flickr page.

The over shirt -Komugi- (size 32 - 54) PDF sewing pattern is available here. Also in the Etsy shop.

Special discount price until 13th Mar 2024 (CET) with other popular patterns. No discount code is needed! The sale page is here.

*****  Special offer for Paper pattern and free shipping Paper pattern + PDF option is available limited time. *The paper includes only the pattern, please print out the instruction by yourself or read it with your tablet or PC.  The PDF + Paper listing page is here.

Enjoy your sewing!

(Japanese post here 日本語ポストはこちら).

**********************

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[ladylooch]

Omg would you please do a blurb of the morning after having sex with hischier? I feel like it would be so sweet and pure 🥹

A/N: Ohhhh yasssss. There are some prompts that I'm just like yes, duh, of course, I would never say no to that. This is one of them. Back to fluffy Nico! 💕

Word Count: 871

Warnings: lil mentions of mature content, but not enough for a warning

His touch is light at first.

A single finger curled against my cheek, ghosting over the skin like a tickle. 

When that doesn’t get my eyes to open, he adds each one of the back of his knuckles to his strokes. He starts at the top of my cheek bone, then skims down to my lips, gently pulling my puffy lip down.

“I’m trying to woo you a bit, but I need your help.” He murmurs. My lips spread into a smile, fully giving away that I’m awake. My eyes open, connecting with his figure sitting on the side of the bed. My breathing hitches at how good he looks in his sweatpants and Devils shirt, a backwards hat lazily thrown over his wild, sleep hair.

“Oh hi.” He tilts his head, biting his lip as I squint at the sunlight coming in behind him.

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Iced with low fat milk. Vanilla too if that’s an option.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He leans down, capturing my lips with his. My hand comes up, threading through the hair at the base of his neck, bumping his hat slightly off his head. His tongue appears, running along the seam of my lips, tangling with mine for a moment before pulling away. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He gives me one last quick peck before disappearing from his apartment.

While he is gone, I rush into the bathroom, fixing my hair into a cute pony tail and wiping off as much of my smeared make up as I can. I swig some mouthwash I found digging through his bathroom cabinets, disappointed that I forgot to toss my toothbrush into my purse before I left for our fourth date. I’m scrolling through Instagram when he returns. I toss my phone to the side, sitting up to accept the plastic cup from him.

“Oh! I love this place!” I squeal excitedly, looking at the logo etched in black. 

“Yeah, you mentioned it on our second date.”

“Yeah, super casually.” I snort, surprised he remembered. But, I’m learning that’s just Nico. He watches my face intently as I take a sip. I sigh heavily, eyes closing and savoring the lifeline of liquid. Nico grins. “Best coffee in the city.” He takes a sip of his, then studies me for a moment. 

“Before this morning, that was my least favorite shirt.” He motions to the fabric covering my body. It’s an unassuming shirt with the logo of the team he plays for. “Thought it was bad luck.”

“I’ve changed your mind?”

“Yeah. About a lot of things.” He reaches into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, pulling out a packaged, pink toothbrush. “I went with pink because of your purse.” He gestured to where it is tossed in the corner hastily tipped over with some contents spilling out. I take it from his hands, biting my cheek to keep from grinning obnoxiously at him. “Thought this could stay here… for next time.”

My cheeks flush, remembering the way he worshipped me last night from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. He’s more than generous and changing my mind about what incredible sex really is.

“Are you actually real?” I ask with a slight laugh, tossing the toothbrush on the nightstand and moving to straddle his lap. I still have my coffee as I lean down to kiss him. Our tongues immediately intertwine. Nico moans into my mouth, making my heart flutter and heat rush between my thighs. One of his arm wraps around my waist and the other grabs my coffee from my hand. He picks me up, setting the coffee down and then laying me on the bed. He lays over me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth to nibble, encouraging my leg to wrap around his hips. His fingers stroke the outer part of my thigh, igniting a match in my core.

Buzz, buzz.

We both look at his phone, seeing the reminder telling him it’s time to leave for the rink.

“I gotta go… I’m sorry.” He pulls back from our heavy kissing to heave a disgruntled sigh. He rests our foreheads together, eyes closed, breathing the same air for as long as possible until he pulls completely away. “I’d stay if i could, I promise.”

“I know.” Because I do. I can feel it between my thighs.

“Stay as long as you want.”

“When will you be back?” I ask as he stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He adjusts himself in his pants making me grin. He shrugs cockily like he’s happy with me seeing how much he wants me.

“Like noon? If you don’t have plans, we can go to lunch when I’m back. Best pizza in New Jersey is at the end of this block.”

“Okay.”

I have a laundry list of things to do including laundry. I need to get groceries. I need to meal prep for the week. I need to clean my apartment, which looks like a tornado came through after getting ready last night.

But Nico HIschier is asking me to stay and who the hell am I to say no to that face?

[wreckmetoji]

Zero to Sixty

 A fic in which the persistent man frequenting your diner takes you on a drive

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Transmasc!Reader 

content warning. transmasc!reader, streetracerAU!Wolfwood, profanity, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, soft wolfwood, i want him to put his fingers in my mouth

i saw a tiktok of a guy drift racing and his user was nicholas. literally what do you want from me

minors DNI

9.9k words

Late night shifts sucked.

It was a mutual understanding that in any backwash shithole town, anything opened past eight at night was only ever populated by the occasional insomniac or rebellious group of high–schoolers that think they're cool for drinking lukewarm black coffee. Not exactly favorable when your wage completely depended on tips, but you had to make the best of it. You were new at the diner, fresh meat, so of course they'd give you the shifts no one wanted. A few more weeks of this and you should be in the clear, but the struggle was even making it that far on pennies and pocket change.

A less than favorable position to be in, not knowing that your pockets would have run dry halfway through your venture to the coast, but this was merely a bump in the road that was your grand adventure to broaden your horizons. Or at least that's what you tried to tell yourself.

So here you were. Staring in the face of a middle aged burnout diner "chef" telling you he didn't want to actually cook anything past a certain time despite the fact you were both scheduled to close. Useless fucker.

With a shake of your head, an obvious roll of your eyes, you reached down to the rows of coffee stained mugs resting ugly and chipped against the back counter. Taking the rag over your shoulder, you decided you'd at least try to look busy just in case anyone actually came in on a Tuesday at ten pm. Unlikely, but you weren't about to get an earful from a gaggle of particularly mean old women again.

The end of your shift was just around the corner– your useless chef counterpart having already left for the evening. He wasn't interested in staying if there weren't any tips to pool. Nut up and be a man, he said, you're capable of handling yourself, kid. If you were in his position you might leave all the same, but it didn't irritate you any less that he even had that option, or that you just weren't confrontational enough to tear into him for leaving you alone in the middle of fucking nowhere to close a diner you've been working at for less than two weeks.

Deft fingers worked at the cash register, clicking the archaic buttons with animated ticks and chimes, before a set of blinding headlights pulled into the parking lot. You narrowed your eyes, inquisitive as the car pulled up close to the front door, obscured by the partially closed blinds. The headlights shut off, and the sound of a car door opening and closing made your mind jog back into action.

Shit. You forgot to lock the front door.

Worn out sneakers slid against the cracked tile below, scurrying over to the door in an attempt to reach it before this enigmatic stranger could beat you to the punch, even if it meant tripping over yourself in the process. It seemed that whatever deity was in charge of your fate was feeling cruel this evening, as the moment your fingertips ghosted over the cool steel lock, the door was being pushed open with a chime.

What an awkward situation you've managed to wedge yourself in, you think, swallowing thick as you stare up at the tall man that was stepped halfway through the door, brow arched in a silent inquiry. He was broad shouldered, leather jacket half unzipped revealing an unprecedented amount of enticing pectoral cleavage with how low cut his white v-neck shirt was.

"Uh... you open?" He asked, voice gruff around the edges like it was strained. You weren't sure if it was the trance you'd found yourself in watching the slight sway of his rosary when he shifted, or because you once again realized you wouldn't ever be able to stand up for yourself even if you tried, but you simply found yourself gaping for a beat or two.

"Yeah, we're... I mean– I was just closing up, but–"

"Great," The man interrupted, pushing through the threshold of the door completely and making his way over to one of the split leather barstools. Your eyes narrowed at his air of arrogance and had half a mind to tell him to scram. Or at least you'd like to.

Huffing out a sigh, you rolled your eyes for the nth time that evening, rounding your way around the stretched out bar countertop to stand face to face. Now that you got a better look at him, he was...moderately handsome. The scruff on his chin added some kind of rugged allure to the entire bad boy ensemble he seemed to have going on. Though maybe that was just the small-town fever talking. The lack of eye-candy in this place was a cardinal sin.

"A menu?" He asked, and you had to repress another eye roll as you steeled yourself for the headache of a conversation you were about to have.

"If you haven't noticed, the cook has left for the evening," You explain with much more patience than you felt brewing inside, but it was quickly whittled away by the aggravating arch of the stranger's brow and the curl at the corners of his lips. "So you can choose between pre-frozen pies, two hour old coffee, or milk that expires tomorrow. Other than that, you're shit outta luck."

Sure, part of you should probably be putting a little more care into the first conversation you've had with a person outside of your coworkers today, and probably the only chance you were going to get at receiving a tip, but you'd trade freedom for a couple of dollars in your pocket.

Lucky you, this enigmatic stranger seemed to have some sense of humor, the smug smirk on his face growing marginally as he leans back in the creaky barstool. 

"'Yer really sellin' me on the two hour old coffee," He mused, hand patting against the countertop twice before leaning back in. "I'll take one of those."

With a tight lipped smile, you gave a quick nod, turning on your heel and reached for the pot of coffee you had yet to dump out for the evening, noting that the machine wasn't even on by this point. You couldn't remember exactly when you had shut it off, but surely the coffee itself was less than lukewarm by this point. Part of you wondered if you should turn on the warm function for even just a minute or two, but that meant you had to be here a minute or two longer than completely necessary. He was the one that decided to come in two minutes from closing, after all, so he can deal with ice cold coffee. 

Grabbing a mug, you set it on the counter with a frustrated and ungraceful clink, filling it up nearly to the rim with what was left in the coffee pot. Turning back to the man at the bar, you were in absolute shock and awe to see him cupping his hands in front of his face, in the middle of sparking up a cigarette. It took you a beat or two to wonder if he really had the audacity, and wonder what fucking era this idiot was from. 

"You do know it's not the eighties anymore, right?" You spoke incredulously, fingers still wrapped around the handle of the mug. The look he gave you was inquisitive, like he didn't quite understand what you were referring to, before he was tucking the zippo back into his leather jacket pocket. With a scoff, you decided to pick your battles for the evening, setting the mug down in front of him, some of the contents splashing over the rim and splattering the otherwise clean countertop. You weren't getting paid enough to argue with some smug asshole about smoking indoors when you were already supposed to be locked up for the night and on your way home.

"So," He began, words muffled around the cigarette between his lips, "Haven't seen you 'round here before. New to town?" Lithe fingers reached up, trapping the cigarette between his index and middle finger, inhaling deep before pulling it from his mouth. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't a little attractive, but again, that was probably the small-town fever getting to you again. 

"More like passing through," You explained, eyes locked onto the motion of the man's free hand reaching for his coffee, lifting the rim of the mug up to his lips. Glancing away, you decided to busy yourself with reorganizing mugs on the counter that were already in perfect order. He seemed to catch this too, the subtle smirk not quite obscured by the ceramic.

"Mm, passin' through, huh?" He inquired, surely a rhetorical question, before taking a slow sip. Lowering the mug, he delicately placed it on the counter, fixing you with a look you couldn't quite decipher. "Ain't exactly a pleasant place for someone like you to be making a pit-stop in, let alone stop to make a few bucks."

You could feel your brows crease at his words, eyeing him with a guarded expression. Taking a moment or two to gather your wandering thoughts and racing heart, you decided to deflect the statement, try to let it roll off your back, but something told you this guy was a lot more perceptive than he let on. 

"Yeah... The city is more my style," You said, voice sounding more tense than you wanted it to. Not that it mattered, considering the look he was giving you from under his brow told you that you were both aware of the real reason.

"You seem like a city boy," He played along, something you were moderately thankful for, even if his comment did seem somewhat backhanded at first. "Too pretty for a place like this."

His elaboration made you reel for a moment, a befuddled expression on your face as you blinked dumbly at him. His face was neutral, eyes trained on you as he brought his cigarette up to his lips again, as if he was expecting you to say something in return. When you didn't, he gave a shrug of his shoulders, exhaling deep, plume of smoke curling and twisting in the space between you. With a small wave of your hand, you cleared the smoke from your face, shooting him a less than amused expression before rolling your eyes and busying yourself with your closing procedures again. A tense silence fell over you as you worked at the register- though the ambiguous man seemed unbothered by your outwardly guarded demeanor, shoulders slack, forearms leaning on the countertop as he indulged in his coffee and cigarette. When you noticed it burning dangerously low, you found yourself sliding an empty mug in his direction, wanting to avoid him potentially putting it out on the counter. Not that it really would have mattered, considering it was already riddled with cracks and holes, but you had some sort of integrity with keeping the place as clean as you could. He gave you a nod in thanks, stubbing it out at the bottom of the cup.

Just as you had finished counting the bills in the register, you saw him stand out of the corner of your eye. Upon glancing over, you could see him fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping through some bills. 

"Oh-" You called out, earning a quick glance in your direction. "Uh... Don't worry about it, I've already counted the register so... It'd just complicate things. It's only a buck 'n a half anyways." With a wave of your hand to emphasize your intentions, he stood in place for a beat longer. 

"If you say so," He shrugged, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. "I'll never say no to free coffee."

"I'm sure it was awful anyways," You joked, the barest of smiles curling at your lips for the first time since he walked through those doors. He snorted in response, tipping his head and shrugging. 

"Wasn't horrible, as far as two-hour old coffee goes."

Shaking your head in response, you found yourself huffing a small amused laugh, removing the half-apron tied around your waist and tossing it beside the register. You watched him shift in the corner of your vision, though he didn't move to leave right away, instead standing in place and glancing out the half-obscured windows towards the parking lot. 

"Didn't see another car in the lot," He mentions, and you could already tell where this was going. "Need a ride home?"

You huffed a laugh again, though this time more sardonic, shooting him a disbelieving expression. He seemed nice enough, but you'd rather be overly cautious than dead in a ditch somewhere.

"No, I'm good. I don't take rides from strangers that barge in two minutes to closing," You stated, leaving no room for discussion on the matter just in case he decided to be pushy. He only smirked. 

"Damn, should've come in a minute earlier," He teased stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he gave you a quick once-over. When you didn't concede, he took a slow breath in, then nodded, taking a step and a half back towards the door. "Alright then, city-boy. If you insist." Taking another step back, he gave a wave of his hand, pulling the door open with a chime and retreating towards the parking lot. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, an unexpectedly amused smile on your features. Perhaps it was because everyone seemed so standoffish to you thus far, so having someone engage in a conversation with you was a nice change, even if he was a bit odd in a way you couldn't quite place. 

With a heavy sigh, you went to clean up the little mess that was made. You were shocked to see a twenty dollar bill sitting on the counter, no doubt left behind by your local enigmatic stranger, making you hum out a small noise of intrigue. you stuffed it into your pocket before tossing out the stubbed out cigarette and washing both mugs by hand. You took your time, considering you were already forced to stay nearly a half hour past your shift, it really didn't matter. You wiped the counters, swept up the floors, didn't bother mopping for a second time, though tried your best to make it at least look presentable. Well... as presentable as this diner *could* be. Shutting off all the lights, you padded your way over to the door with a resigned sigh, pulling it open with a chime. You were immediately met with a car in the lot just a few spaces away from the front door, driver's side window rolled down to reveal the same man patiently waiting, eyes closed and arms lounged back behind his head. You immediately considered heading back inside and exiting through the back, but you supposed if he was going to murder you, he probably would've been a little more alert. And, admittedly, you were intrigued as to why he'd decided to nap for a half hour in the diner parking lot. 

Keeping him in your peripherals, you locked up the door, the resounding click seeming to stir him from relaxation. You glanced up just in time to see him stretch an arm out, resting one wrist on the wheel, the other half hanging out the window. He shot you a knowing expression, lips curled in a smug smirk, obviously finding some amusement in your puzzled and cautious disposition. Brows furrowed, keys clenched tightly in your hand, you stepped away from the door and headed across the parking lot- opposite to where the man was parked. What you didn't catch was his surprised expression, the fumble of his keys being pulled out of the ignition, and his haste to open the car door and approach you.

"Hey, y'know you don't have to be so stubborn," He called out, not even shutting the driver's door behind him as he took long strides to meet your pace.

"I already told you I'm not taking a ride from a stranger," You say pointedly, glancing up at him in the corner of your eye. Though you couldn't deduce exactly why, you stilled to a halt, taking in how his pace met yours exactly, staying a few steps away so as to not seem intimidating. "Listen, I appreciate it, really, but... Stranger danger, 'n all that."

You were expecting him to have some kind of negative reaction, at least in your previous experiences, and gripped your keys a little tighter inside your jacket pocket. Instead, he seemed to huff an amused breath, stuffing a hand in his jacket pocket, that unfortunately familiar smirk curling at the corners of his lips once again as he holds out his other hand.

"Name's Wolfwood," He says, catching you off guard for a moment, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood." 

Even though you were aware of exactly what he was doing, and the fact he was even being cheeky about it, you couldn't help but find it somewhat charming. Endearing, even, if you were to use the term loosely. That much was obvious in your immediate reaction, consisting of a sigh and a small smile, disbelieving but bemused nonetheless. Your eyes glance up, catching his umber gaze in a more personal connection. His smirk spread, widening slightly, seeming to think that he had won you over. 

"It was nice meeting you, Nicholas," You say softly, leaving him stupefied in place as you spun on your heel and walked. You felt a little better about the encounter, now knowing now he was just an idiot with no negative intentions. 

"What's your name?" He called out, not seeming to follow after you as he'd already done, and instead letting you go your separate ways for the time being. You scoffed, unbeknownst to him, unbelieving and amused by the audacious personality of this enigmatic man.

"Guess you'll have to find out," You say over your shoulder, never once stopping your confident strides down the sidewalk, leaving him standing in place.

Sure, it may have been uncommon for the townsfolk here to even approach you, let alone leave exuberant tips and offer friendly rides home after your shift, but you had a feeling men like Wolfwood just liked testing the waters, dipping their toe in, see what they can get away with. He didn't necessarily seem bad, but more bad news. You've had your fair share of run-ins with people that held themselves the same way Wolfwood did, knowing that leaving them in the dust would shake them off. Guys like Wolfwood didn't take kindly to rejection.

Or, at least you thought.

It turns out Nicholas D. Wolfwood was more tenacious than you had originally anticipated. It had been a few days, granted, but you didn't expect his familiar sun-kissed face pushing through the creaky door of the diner in broad daylight halfway through your shift so many days later. Your conversation was brief, something along the lines of guess you can't get enough of me. He didn't agree nor disagree, only smirked and asked if he could actually see a menu this time. You obliged with a tight smile, mostly leaving himself to his devices after you had taken his order and promptly delivered his food. For once, you actually had other customers to attend to. 

Perhaps tenacious wasn't the correct word, you thought to yourself upon seeing the stack of bills just a little too great to simply pay for a meal in the place he had been sitting, now occupied by empty space and even emptier silence. Presumptuous, you think with a huff of amusement, arching your brows at the torn piece of paper with a phone number scrawled on it resting at the bottom of the stack of bills. Your eyes dart up to the door, briefly scanning over the parking lot- for what, you aren't quite willing to admit- before shaking your head. Flipping the paper over in your fingers, you roll your eyes, crumpling it up and tossing it in the receipts bin beneath the register.

This seemed to be your routine, one you became quite familiar with much to your chagrin. At some point you began to take it with a spoonful of sugar, because hey, at least Wolfwood was a half decent conversationalist, and he left you more than decent tips. At some point he had become comfortable enough to reach over the counter and tuck the folded bills into the pocket of your half-apron, shooting you a much too casual wink. His excuse was he didn't want any of it to go to the unenthusiastic chef, but you pondered the credibility of that statement considering his behavior thus far. 

In his time frequenting the diner, you found out Wolfwood enjoyed cars. You could have assumed that much, considering you had gotten a couple glimpses at the one he drove a few times now, and although it was old it was in undeniably good condition. Sleek, black, shiny enough you could probably see your reflection in it if you got close enough. You'd never had much of an interest, favoring other hobbies that didn't revolve around toxic masculinity quite to that extent, but on a particularly slow day you humored him. 

"So. Cars," You sigh, leaning over the counter with your arms crossed, eyes drooping from the double shift of constantly being on your feet. Anything that paid the bills, even if you were mentally and physically exhausted.

Wolfwood hummed behind his mug of warm coffee, umber eyes peering at you over the rim of his tinted sunglasses. Resting the ceramic down, there was an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Mhm. Cars," He says in return, being smart about the fact he knew you had no idea what to even begin talking about on the subject. You scoffed, knowing he wasn't going to simply talk about something unless provoked, and even then it was a tossup. Touché.

"So... is it just, like, a hobby?" You inquire, holding your hand out, palm to the sky, as if emphasizing your question, hoping he would elaborate further past your question. Luck seemed to be in your cards, earning a shift in his expression as he glanced off, pondering his answer. 

"More like a job."

"So you're a mechanic or something?" You sound unconvinced, taking in his appearance. You had never seen him dirtied up, covered in oil, and you don't want to stop and think about why your jaw tightened and your gut clenched at the visual in your head. 

"Not really," Is all he settles on, lifting the mug back up to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he takes an awfully smug sip of his drink.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as your hand falls back to the countertop. After his first few times coming in, you felt much more comfortable giving him glimpses outside of your attempt at a customer service, well-mannered mien. He seemed to enjoy your attitude, or at the very least be amused by it.

"Well then what do you do, exactly?" You crack, pushing yourself from leaning, palms curled around the edge of the countertop. The hum of florescent overhead lights occupied the empty space, the tick of the wall clock reminding you how close you were to nightly freedom once again. 

"I keep tryin' to show you," Wolfwood muses with a shrug, "You're the one bein' stubborn."

He doesn't have to elaborate for you to understand what he's talking about, considering you couldn't count on both hands how many times he had offered to drive you home from work. By this point, you thought of it more a battle of wits than anything. A game, or maybe an ongoing joke that was going on just a little too long, toeing the line between a joke and being a serious proposition. You breathed in deep, heaving out a heavy sigh as you locked eyes, neither willing to be the one that cracked and looked away first. Rolling your tongue over the back of your teeth, you raise a brow, forcing the knowing smirk down the longer you stared. 

You wouldn't admit it, but you'd come to... somewhat enjoy his presence around your otherwise dull work. Enjoy him.

He was quick to catch the crack in your façade, a dent in the armor you had built around yourself so well that had kept him out until this point. So, Wolfwood smiles, leaning back in his barstool, and straightens his back. He looks just as confident as he did every time, and maybe it was because your feet were sore and your calves ached from standing all day, but you had already made your mind up before the question even came out of his mouth. 

"So. Want a ride home?" 

The exhaustion from the day must have caught up to you with the way you smiled, the way you breathed out an airy little laugh as you hung your head, shaking it more so at your inability to stick to your guns rather than his continuous insistence. 

"God," You sigh out, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was unchanging, cocky and confident as it was every time, but you both knew he had you this time. "Fine. Yeah, fine. You can drive me home."

You had been half expecting a celebratory cheer, or at the very least some snide comment along the lines of took you long enough. Instead, he simply gave a nod, reaching into his back pocket to procure his wallet, flipping through some bills. He knew the drill by now- knew that the coffee was free so close to closing, knew that you wouldn't want to mess up counting the register, but he always felt the need to toss a twenty on the counter as he stood. Today was no different, and you couldn't help but be a little perplexed by it. He got what he wanted, why was he still trying?

"See you in a bit, pretty boy," Wolfwood mused, reaching over the counter to grip your jaw between his thumb and forefinger. It was a fleeting touch, calloused fingertips sliding away just as quickly as they had landed there, and you could only watch him leave with red-faced bewilderment before losing sight of him once he exited through the front door. You gaped, lips parting momentarily, before clamping your jaw shut and shaking your head, taking the half-drank coffee over to the small sink and washing it by hand. 

The entire fifteen minutes of your closing procedures felt like tooo long and not long enough, anticipation and anxieties clawing at your throat as you swept and mopped the cracked tile floor. God, why did you agree to this? What if he was some murderous psycho killer? What if he was some creep stalker that just wanted to know where you lived? Thoughts rolled over you in waves, drowning out rational thinking and leaving wake for a dry throat and heart palpitations. Your hands shook as you tugged the front door open with a ding, eyes quick to land on the all too familiar black car parked a few spaces down from the front door. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you turned in place and locked up, steeling yourself with a deep breath as you shoved your hands into your pockets.

By the time you had turned around again, Wolfwood was leaning over the passenger seat, cigarette hung loosely between his lips as he gives a light shove, pushing the door open enough for you to let yourself in once you look the car. Perhaps it was you postponing the inevitable, dragging it out as long as you could, but you found your gaze roving over the sleek black paint. With the neon shine of the diner sign, you could indeed see your reflection in the paint. A white stripe ran down the expanse of the car just above the chrome trim, the letters G.T 350 scrawled in bold between the small gap. A chrome snake was stamped on the side, and your steps slowed to read the bold chrome COBRA underneath before finally circling the front and getting to the passenger door. 

It was low, low enough that even you had to duck a bit to climb in, settling into your seat awkwardly as you carefully pulled the door shut behind you. Knowing nothing about cars, there wasn't much you could comment on, although a quick glance around could tell you this was far from stock. Metal arches encased the two front seats, the back seats completely removed to make way for a welded metal box, obscuring your view of what lay behind it. Hanging from the mirror was a rosary, mahogany wooden beads dangling low, cross still swaying back and forth from the motion of you entering the car.

Wolfwood was patient, an amused smirk slightly shielded by the fingers clasped around his cigarette. He watched you, watched you take in your surroundings, the confusion evident on your face as you peered at the metal bars running through both the front and the back of the car. You were at a lack of words, both from the nerves and the lack of knowledge, so all you did was vaguely gesture to a couple of the bars running overhead. 

"Roll cage," He said smoothly. As if you knew what that was.

"Address?" A simple question, but something about the nonchalant way he said it had you questioning why he was so eager to drive you home in the first place. When you blurt out the street name and number, he seems to pause in thought, humming a low sound. "Alright."

He motioned to your seatbelt, and with an unamused arched brow, you were quick to note that he most certainly wasn't wearing his own. You give him a once over, eyes raking over his relaxed posture and casual demeanor. That at least put some of your anxieties at ease. Reaching up over your shoulder, you grip the seatbelt, pulling it over your body and pushing it into place with an exaggerated force, locking eyes with him as it clicked. All he did was snicker, turning the key in the ignition as the car rumbled to life.

It was a muscle car, an old one, and despite not knowing anything about them, you could tell from the purr and rumble it was tinkered with, yet in immaculate condition. It didn't sound standard, but what did you know?

"How good are you with speed?" Was the question that broke the silence, urging you to glance up at him with a perplexed expression.

"Thought you'd wanna take your sweet time now that you finally got me in here," You sass back.

He smirks, hand on the stick shift– next to which sat some kind of lever– putting the car in reverse as he slung his arm around your seat, peering back over his shoulder, backing out of the space. It was for show, you know it was, considering there wasn't a single other car in the lot for him to look out for. "Oh, I'm gonna. But that doesn't answer my question."

A statement as bold as it was confusing. You were certain you must have looked stupid as your gaze trails from his face, down to the hand he'd placed back on the gear shift, then out the windshield. The car rolled forwards, slow and steady, only fueling the disconcerting feeling that began to settle in the pit of your stomach. Seeming to sense your unease, his hand moved, clapping against your knee twice as he fixed you with probably the most genuine expression you've received in the entire time knowing him. It was softer around the edges, kind in a way you couldn't quite describe, and in that moment you knew you could trust him with... whatever it was he was trying to get at.

"I... guess I'm fine with it?"

"You don't sound too sure 'bout that."

"I'm fine with it," You corrected, settling back into the seat as his hand moves to clasp at the glasses sat on the bridge of his hooked nose. Removing them, he folded one side in, tucking them in the low cut of his v-neck shirt, before adjusting himself in his seat.

"Alright," He chuckles, sounding a bit too smug for your liking. "If you need to hold on, there's a bar."

With a brief motion of his hand, your eyes follow, looking at the piss poor excuse for a handle hanging flimsy just above the door. Simply due to nerves you were tempted to preemptively grab on, unsure of what exactly he had in store for this simple drive. The other, more rational, part of your brain won through for once, telling you the chances of him putting you in immediate peril were slim to none, considering his car would also be victim to any catastrophe that may occur.

The car pulled out from the lot, cruising down the street– the opposite direction of your house, you might add– at a disappointingly average speed. With the way he had been talking, half of you had expected him to floor it right from the get-go. Brows furrowed, eyes on the road, your hand that had subconsciously reached up and gripped the seatbelt loosened, falling into your lap. It took a minute or two to get off the side streets, the car rolling up to the last red light in town before they began to wind through the mountain loop roads. Motion in your peripherals catches your attention, and you were familiar enough with Wolfwood to recognize it as him reaching for the pack of cigarettes he kept in the inner pocket of his jacket. The spark of a lighter made your ears perk up, cherry burning red, blending with the traffic light bathing the two of you. 

Tension eased from your shoulders, the scent familiar. You found yourself inhaling deep, heaving a soft sigh, gaze flickering out the passenger side window to see the last sparse buildings on the edge of town. Wolfwood spoke, though in your moment of serenity you hadn't heard exactly what he said. Before you could turn your head, or hum the inquisitive noise rising up in your chest, the red surrounded you turned green, and your back was slamming into the seat behind you. 

Squealing tires and the smell of burning rubber overloaded your senses as Wolfwood accelerated, car flying past what little there was of town and headed off towards the mountains. Voice caught in your throat, one hand shot up to grasp at the seatbelt, the other grabbing at the flimsy handle above the door. The closer you came to the bend, the further your heart crept into your throat, and the speed in which you were going, you knew he most certainly wouldn't make a successful turn. You closed your eyes, braced for impact, but the squeal of tires gripping the road was the only thing you heard, and your shoulder colliding with the side of the door was the only thing you felt. 

Momentarily winded- from the shock more than the impact- your eyes shot open, desperately clinging to reason and safety. You watched the car skid around the corner, eyes shooting down to the movement of Wolfwood's hand push the e-brake back down and reach towards the gear shift again. The increasing speed was slightly more gradual this time- slightly- giving you a mere second to catch your breath and gasp for air, unknowing to your exclaimed Jesus fuck! Wolfwood barked a laugh, finding amusement in your adrenaline fueled terror. Capable hand swerved the wheel, steadying out the tires on the road as you approached the next curve. 

It was a constant state of fight or flight, though freeze seemed to be your body's most preferred reaction, save the white knuckle grip tightening on both the hand bar and your seatbelt. Every slide around every corner, every acceleration that sent your body back in your seat, had your stomach and heart doing flips. At some point, though you couldn't pinpoint when, sheer terror had turned into something a little more fuzzy, a little more addicting. There was still a spark of fear in your eyes, but more overwhelmingly there was intrigue, excitement. 

"There it is!" Wolfwood exclaimed over the rev of the engine, the screaming tires, and before you could think better of it, you braved a look at him. Umber eyes were glancing at you in his peripherals, brows pinched in cocky triumph. What he was so pleased about, you couldn't say, but the look in his eye alone had you trembling in your seat.

Both of his hands were steadied on the wheel, one for control and one for stability, before his hand shot down to the brake again, pulling up and sliding the car around another tight corner. More than a couple times as the car slid, you thought your door was going to collide with the rocky mountainside or slide into a ditch, but he always managed to keep it steady, keep it smooth, and suddenly you understood how cars weren't exactly a hobby for him. 

Reaching the peak of the mountain, Wolfwood flicked at the stick shift, slowing the car to a reasonable speed before pulling onto the shoulder, the purr and rumble of the engine filling the space  your labored breaths didn't occupy. You were shaking, trembling like a leaf, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your hands slowly and hesitantly released their respective grounding purchase. Perhaps it was the last vestiges of fear that had you unbuckling your seatbelt, pushing your door open, swinging your shaky legs out as you struggled to rise to your feet. You didn't close the door behind you, instead taking a few steps over to the metal meridian at the mountainside, hands clamping around the cool metal to help hold you up. 

Your ears were filled with the chirp of crickets, the idle rumble of the car behind you, and a sharp, pitchy ring. Taking deep breaths, you willed your heart to calm, though your body was slow to follow behind. Your mind trailed back, the way your stomach flipped over every hill, around every corner, Wolfwood's capable hands keeping the both of you on the precipice of something much more dangerous. Oh God, the way his fingers curled around the wheel, the way they engulfed the shift stick, that look in his eye when you let yourself freefall and embraced the feeling.

Crunching gravel grabbed your attention, wide eyes trailing up from toe to head, locking eyes with Wolfwood as he stood beside you. One of his hands was in his pocket, the other pinching his half-finished cigarette between his middle and forefinger, chest rising as he inhaled deep. You found yourself mimicking the motion, breathing in deep with him, holding it for a moment. His brow raised, barely perceptible, tipping his head as he inched a step closer. He reached out, cigarette burning low between his fingers as he offered it to you. 

You didn't smoke, not past a social puff or two when drinking, but you found your hand reaching up to accept anyways. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the idea of having your lips around something that had previously been between his. 

Only when your fingers were a mere scant inch away from accepting, he pulled it back, gaze unwavering as he stared at you, into you, eyes roving over your face, then your body. You could only watch with rapt attention as he placed it back between his lips, inhaling deep again. This time it seemed deliberate, seemed focused, anticipation rising up your throat as he took another step into you. The free hand tucked into his pocket slid from its place, bridging the small gap between you by cupping your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and coaxing you to open up. 

"C'mere," He murmured, trails of smoke spilling from the corners of his lips as he leaned down. Your eyes fluttered, lips parted, and in that moment with your heart still racing and your body still vibrating, he could ask you to do anything and you would without question. 

Smoke filled your senses as he pursed his lips, blowing into you, filling your lungs and your nose and your mind with everything that was Nicholas D. Wolfwood. You breathed in, the second-hand smoke burning your lungs before he closed the distance, chapped lips locking with your own. 

He tasted like coffee and cigarettes, something that would normally make you recoil, but you found yourself melting into it, legs wobbling for a completely different reason now. A noise bubbled up in your throat, soft and airy and light, as you exhaled through your nose. Smoke curled around the two of you in an intimate dance, wisps dancing and dissolving into thin air before your gaze fluttered shut completely, letting yourself freefall for the second time that night.

Hands reached out, both yours and his, yours clasping in the thick leather of his jacket lapels and clenching tight, willing him to step closer, press into you, consume you whole. He was already a step ahead of you, flicking his cigarette into the gravel before an arm came to curl around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. The calloused fingers digging into your jaw and cheeks pried a little harder, keeping you open and pliant as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, flicking against your own with a kind of expertise that made your stomach flip. A soft, airy noise passed your lips at the intrusion, one of your hands shifting up, desperate for purchase, something to ground you. It settled on cupping the back of his neck, fingertips carding through the short dark tresses there.

You felt your legs shake, felt your knees threaten to give out from under you when his arm encasing your waist shifted down, strong hand taking a fistful of the meat on your hip and tugging you into the line of his body. The small, surprised little noise you emitted must have amused him, feeling his lips curl at the corners before he pulled away a scant inch, tongue slow to return back between his lips. 

"Fuck you taste good," He purrs, thumb sliding down from your cheek to press into the plush of your bottom lip, pushing so the tip of his nail tapped against your teeth. You had half a mind to part your lips for him, let him probe, encourage him. And you did, kind of, parted your lips imperceptibly, jaw hanging open enough for him to fit the tip of his thumb between your teeth, only for you to gently clamp down. It was cheeky, teasing, half-mast gaze staring up at him through your lashes. The hum he emitted was pleased, yet intrigued. Using the leverage of the thumb between your teeth, he hooked his index finger under your chin and tipped your head back, leaning again.  

It was a strange sensation, the possessive nature of his grip mixed with the soft of his lips against the corner of your mouth trailing down, the scratch of his stubble sending a shiver from head to toe. Your eyelids flutter, unfocused as you stare up at the clear starry sky above, fingers winding tighter in the back of Wolfwood's hair. He returned the action with a nip at your jaw, canines sinking into your skin enough to make it sting, eliciting a gasp from you. Ever the opportunist, his thumb probed further, pressing the pad into the center of your tongue. His mouth worked back up, warm words falling on deaf ears as he breathes against you, into you, sealing his lips over yours again in a kiss that was more teeth and tongue than lips. 

He must have felt your legs shake, the weight of you leaning into him for support, because the hand squeezing at your hip moved down, passing the swell of your ass and cupping your upper thigh, coaxing you to wrap your leg around him. You oblige this time, though end up gasping into his greedy mouth when he displays effortless strength in hiking you up, winding your legs around his hips, and resting you down against the metal meridian overlooking the cliffside. 

The press of him against you, the solid plane of his chest bumping against yours, the half-hard tent in his pants you nearly mistook for a belt buckle pressing into your lower stomach, a rumbled out groan coming from between his lips when your legs wound around him tighter, pulling him more firmly against you.

"Shit," He murmured against your lips between heated kisses, "Y'er eager, huh?"

Normally your first instinct would be to knock him down a peg or two if he sounded so cocky, but the aftershocks of adrenaline were coursing hot through your body, leaving wake for burning desire you'd been pushing down for far too long just to seem like you had the upper hand. You nodded, humming a noise of affirmation, tapering off into something a little filthier when you felt the roll of his hips, angling his hips down. When you moaned low, that seemed to be enough to kick him into action. 

Both hands slung under your thighs, tugging you close and pulling you up, carrying you back towards his car. Your heart thudded in your chest, anxiety rising like bile in your throat at what was to come, unsure how exactly you could bring up something so detrimental this far in. That, coupled with the tender squeeze of your heart when his hand cupped the back of your head, protecting it from potentially getting bumped against the arch of the door while he climbed in with you in his lap, had you second guessing your own hubris of flying so close to the sun.

"Relax," Wolfwood said low, seeming to catch your sudden unease. Feeling brave, you glanced up to meet his gaze. 

His eyes were dark, umber brown blown wide, nearly black, and despite him looking like he was ready to eat you alive, there was a kindness swimming behind it all. So, when he spoke low, an intimate husky timbre, you believed him. "Don't gotta do anything you don't wanna do. Jus' tell me." 

Only managing a nod, he mirrored the action, fingers trailing from their position at the top of your head and gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He was slow to pull you in again, as if he was waiting for protest. When he wasn't met with any, he indulged, though a little less messy and a little less hungry. This time, he worked you open, eased you into it, placed both of his hands on either of your knees straddling his lap and palmed upwards. The touch had you sinking, tension easing from your body as you lowered yourself more firmly into his lap. You were met with the hardness straining against his dark jeans, the zipper pressing up between the apex of your thighs. You moaned, small and hesitant, and he nipped your lip, a silent command to not hold yourself back. 

One of his hands shifted up, ghosting higher between your legs, and suddenly your nerves came to a tipping point. Eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed, you feel the heat of his hand pressing up against your pelvis.

"Nick-" You gape, sucking a sharp breath between clenched teeth, preparing for the worst. There was a pause in the pressure of his touch when he clearly didn't find what he was looking for, a falter, and you were ready to stumble out and run before his touch glided down, two fingers pressing firm against the crease in your jeans. Your hips kicked, a gasp ripped from your throat when his fingers probed a little harder, cunt leaking from months of neglect. His movements were smooth, languid, urging your thighs apart just a fraction wider as his touch grew more bold.

He hummed an appreciative noise, tongue passing over your jaw, then biting down, his touch working in small circles. "Keepin' secrets from me, pretty boy?" 

His lack of negative reaction had your heart soaring, nerves dissipating in an instant. You must have looked surprised, stunned in the moment, because he huffed an amused breath against your warmed skin while his hands worked at the button of your pants. Feeling the need to clear the air, ask your questions, your lips parted, question hanging on the tip of your tongue, only to have the hand delving into the front of your pants punching the air from your lungs, winding you. 

A deep, gravelly groan- something more akin to a growl- came from the depths of his chest when he felt the patch of wet in the crotch of your underwear. "So fuckin' eager," He mouthed against your cheek, swiping a stripe down, then up, hand coming up high enough to slip beneath the band and work his way back down. You could barely breathe, skillful hands working your stiffened clit between his index and middle finger. It was too much, yet too little at the same time, hips bucking into the touch desperately seeking more friction, more fullness.

Hazy eyes cracked open just in time to catch the shift of his free hand running over his own pants while he worked you so expertly, the heel of his palm dragging hard against the defined line straining against dark washed denim. Despite the confidence in his demeanor, he looked messy, hair tousled and lips parted, eyes trained on you with a sense of reverence that made you whimper. You watched his jaw tighten, watched the tendons in his neck flex when his fingers trailed low, catching on your weeping entrance. He was met with eager compliance, sliding your hips forwards on his lap, sending you leaning back against the steering wheel, inadvertently causing his fingers to dip deeper. 

You were wet, impossibly so, head tipping back and eyes sliding shut as Wolfwood worked deeper, caressing the spongy spot inside you with effortless ease, like he knew exactly where to touch you and how. The pitchy noises falling from your lips had him humming low, adjusting in his seat to push his hips forward, fingers stroking faster, curling. 

"Shit. Fuck. Up," You heard him mutter, though gave you no time to process the request before his fingers slipped out of you. You jolt, whining petulantly, only to have both of his hands grabbing at your ass and hiking you up. You complied, thighs burning at the angle you were kneeled at, hips arched, sun-kissed fingers curling into the band of your pants and underwear, sliding down. 

It was clumsy, clumsier than you'd like to admit, sliding them down to your knees just far enough to reveal the slick sticking to your thighs. You kept your ass up, hips arched, as Wolfwood fumbled with his own belt. You found it endearing in some way, how his fingers slipped a couple times taking out the prong, pulling with a hurried impatience. He didn't even bother undoing it all the way, working his button and zipper quickly after. 

You nearly sputtered when he hiked his pants down to sit at his mid-thigh, cock standing proud between you with a silent intimidation with the size and girth. It wasn't completely insane, but considering you'd had nothing but a humble vibrator and your own fingers for a good hot minute, it had your cheeks warming with anxious anticipation. This made him chuckle, cocky and gravelly and deep, but you couldn't find it in yourself to snap something back at him. 

A hand on your hip urged you to settle back into his lap, shuffling a bit to find a better angle. You tucked your knees up, back hunched as he pressed you more firmly back against the steering wheel, suddenly thankful for the lack of surface area providing a horn. He seemed to read your mind, one hand under your thigh and keeping you bent, the other gripping the base of his cock and sliding against the sopping wet crease of your cunt. "Thank fuck for six-bolt," Wolfwood mused, but you were far too occupied watching the slide of his leaking tip caressing your swollen clit to process or care about what he was talking about. 

His palm was hot under your leg, hiking it up a little higher, your muscles screaming from the angle of your knee pressing into your chest. He continued to tease, tapping the weight of him against you, enjoying the wet smack against your clit. You startled, yelped, bucked your hips with a depraved whine, hoping that he would get the idea and just fuck you already.

The hand holding the base of his cock angled it down, thumb pressing at the center as he pulled his hips back, pressed the tip into you, slowly sliding forward. Your breath caught in your lungs, trying desperately to arch into him, push him deeper, faster, but the hand steadfast against the meat of your leg kept you locked in place. 

"Fuck," He groaned out long and low, fingers digging into your skin and pulling you into the upwards thrust of his hips. He was teasing you with it, you know he was, your eyes glassy from both frustration and overwhelming pleasure. His other hand locked onto your hip, pulling you down closer, just a little faster, until he was fully seated inside of you. You were already trembling, clenching around him, and you could feel his cock kick inside of you, a punched out sound coming from between his clenched teeth. 

From the way Wolfwood had been handling you, you expected him to start out slow, ease into it, torture you a little bit longer than necessary just for a little payback. That certainly wasn't the case, not with the way he pushed your thighs up, pinned you against the wheel, and fucked his hips up into you with reckless abandon. You cried out, eyes slid shut, hands scrambling for purchase on anything they could. One hand curled around the smooth edge of the dashboard, short nails digging into the thick leather finish, the other coming up and grabbing at the handle above the driver's side door. 

Wolfwood was ruthless, weeks of obvious interest and yearning poured into each roll of his hips, each pull to meet every thrust, the frantic grip and release and caress of his hands against your bare skin. You could barely keep your eyes open, struggling to keep them parted as you panted, gasped, moaned for him, the smell of sex filling the car, fogging the windows. Umber eyes locked onto the part of your lips, glossy and kiss-plush, spit slicked, his jaw hanging slack as he fucked into you.

"Fuck, baby," Wolfwood growled, the term of endearment making your pussy clench around him a little tighter. He huffed a noise, his hand trembling imperceptibly as it left your leg, coming between your legs, swiping quick lines back and forth over your clit in an attempt to push you closer to the edge. With the falter of his hips, the stutter in his thrusts, you could tell he was close. "C'mon, pretty boy- give it to me."

His commanding tone had your head swimming, lightheaded and floating. The coil in your gut wound tighter, needing more, anything more to push you over the edge. 

Your hand left the dashboard, reaching out and curling nimble fingers in the collar of Wolfwood's low cut shirt. Twisting the fabric in your grip, you tugged him into you, earning a surprise noise quickly muffled by your greedy open mouth. He returned the fervor, letting out a long groan as he pulled you down, keeping you bouncing on his cock as your climax hit you. 

Brows arched, tongue eager, you mewled and whined into his mouth as your body trembled, cunt clenched, your slick and his pre-cum coating your inner thighs and dripping down. He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, a shuddered breath leaving his throat, a low moan, hips snapping up once, twice, continuing to fuck you even as he filled you to the brim. Everything slowed, your legs shaking in his grip, cheeks ruddy and face hot, sticky and high and satisfied beyond relief. 

He panted against your lips, exchanging heavy breaths for a moment or two longer before he leaned in again, stealing you one last time with an open tenderness you didn't expect from someone like Wolfwood. You parted, heart still racing, slowing in the silence that stretched between you as you caught your breaths. The only noise between you was a grunt from Wolfwood as he pulled you up and off his softening cock, his gaze trailing down to the slow drip of your shared fluids making a mess out of his jeans and car seat. He exhaled, smirk curling at the corners of his lips as he helped you pull up your underwear and pants. 

Urging you over the console, a flat palm collided playfully with your ass, making you jump and nearly hit your head on the bars stretching overhead. You glance back to glare, but he was too occupied tucking himself into his pants to catch your ire. Lucky him. 

You settle into your seat, thighs still weak and trembling, fingertips red and sore from how tightly you had been gripping the hand bar. Weakly, you grasp at the seatbelt, struggling with shaky hands to clip it in. Wolfwood was quick to reach over, hand engulfing your own to steady it, helping you get the clasp in with a quiet click. His hand came up, gently caressing your chin much as he had at the diner earlier that night, before grabbing his carton of cigarettes and shaking one loose. Your eyes slide shut, head back against the headrest as you hear him roll down the window and spark up, smell the familiar brand you've come to call comforting, then the rumble of the car engine as Wolfwood starts it up and pulls away from the cliffside shoulder. 

The drive towards your house was muss less action-packed, surprised to see Wolfwood actually doing the speed limit compared to how much he seemed to be doing earlier. It was quiet, favoring the low hum of the radio. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, you found, both of you simply satiated, satisfied, relaxing in the presence of each other. 

When Wolfwood pulled up in front of your house, he left the engine running, leaving you to think that maybe this was it. Maybe he got what he'd been wanting from you, and maybe this would make things easier when you eventually got to leave this shitty town. You unbuckled your seatbelt, though once again he was reaching out, grabbing your hand. He leaned over, taking the buckle from you and tucking it back in its place. An off gesture, you think, but when he comes back he's holding your chin in the palm of his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your lips. It was chaste, long, but when he pulled back you could see an unfiltered kindness in his eyes. 

"See you tomorrow?" He asked, and your heart swelled, chest rose as you inhaled deep. 

With a smile, a soft amused breath, you nodded. 

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

[blametheeditor]

Voretober Day 10 | Book

Voretober Prompt List

First | Previous | Next

If given the opportunity, would you take the chance to go to space and travel the stars? What if the person offering to take you was someone you trusted more than anyone else?

What if that person is no longer entirely human?

MENTIONS OF SOFT VORE

Content Warnings: Soft, non-sexual vore (only mentions for now). Mentions of body horror. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of death and murder, violence. Being trapped against one's will. Dehumanization. Abductions. Cursing. Darker themes/tone

___________________________________

“Alright Scotty, you can come out now.”

Easier said than done. Even though Vincent is kneeled down directly outside of the cave opening, his massive form blocking everything from sight, Scott knows what lies in wait.

Buildings that stretch so tall it’s impossible for him to fully comprehend. Catastrophic beings who could come stomping down the small pathway at any moment. A market filled with items that he could easily be mistaken for to be purchased.

What if someone tries to fight Vincent for him? Being a giant only goes so far when they’re surrounded by other giants.

Taking a shuttering breath as he begins to tremble, Scott carefully peers out of the opening. Looks up to see Vincent watching him with a smirk. One that says he finds this amusing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” the purple man chuckles.

That spurs Scott forward as he walks into the open with a scowl. Freezes when he feels the ground shake before whirling around in the attempt to figure out what caused it. Feels the blood drain from his face when his eyes catch the side of a building and all he can think about is how insignificant he is.

He almost runs back into the caves, muscles tense and ready to bolt. Something warm suddenly invades his space, however, and the sight of a finger who’s print could smother him keeps him locked in place.

Then it nudges him, Scott yelping as he stumbles a few paces to regain his balance. “H-Hey!”

"Did you still want to try the shoulder,” Vincent smiles a bit too innocently. “Just a warning, it’s much higher than the pocket.”

Scott looks at said shoulder, the one he could’ve grabbed only moments ago, had tried to picture himself sitting on to get a sense of the scale. It did nothing to prepare him, especially considering he forgot to take into account the shirt’s collar, realizing it’s now big enough for him to hide under.

And not once did he think about Vincent’s height at the suggestion of sitting on his shoulder.

“I-I’ll try it.”

Despite the tremor in his voice, the hovering finger turns into an open hand waiting for him to climb into. The terror at sitting over a hundred feet in the air without so much as a harness in case he falls is washed away with a sense of overwhelming relief. He hadn’t realized just how much he hated the idea of being on the ground until there was an option to leave it behind, all but jumping onto the warm palm without any hesitation.

If he didn’t know any better, Vincent hated it more than he did, the hand lifting up before Scott confirmed he was ready. Not that he minded this time, but he doesn’t think there will ever be a time his stomach doesn’t flip from the vertigo.

He’s thankful the purple man doesn’t do anything else, though. He isn’t dropped into the pocket for safe keeping, and the towering giant stays kneeling on the ground. The hand is lifted higher until its level with Vincent’s shoulder.

Everything freezes. Meaning Scott has to climb over himself.

He catches sight of the harsh ground waiting tens of feet below. Knows that if he tries to stand up, his knees will buckle. Doesn’t know if he should be thankful Vincent didn’t just slide him off, or wish he was so he could have at least made it to the shoulder before deciding against it.

“Take your time, Scotty,” nearly makes him cower, Vincent’s voice rattling his very bones from how close he is. “I won’t let you fall.”

Scott looks up to see the giant is trying to lean away from his own shoulder in order to properly spot him. Smiles at the admittedly entertaining sight before focusing back on the task at hand. Crawls forward until he reaches Vincent’s shirt only to be struck by how heavy it feels.

It’s also thick and easy for him to grab, which helps Scott finally stand up without teetering. Well, mostly. He has yet to get the hang of standing on a hand.

But he’s standing. And then he’s slowly, carefully climbing up. Gasps when he reaches the top of Vincent’s shoulder and sees the long, long fall all the way down. And there’s no hand waiting to catch him on that side.

Panic takes over. Scott scrambles for the collar, latching onto the fabric and curling up as he tries to breathe he needs to breathe. The only thing worse than being this high is passing out.

With his eyes clenched tightly shut, he senses more than sees something big approach him. Flinches when something touches his side, tensing when it slowly rubs his back.

Curious, Scott looks over to see what it is. Can’t stop his mouth from dropping open at seeing a thumb taller than he is keeping a featherlight touch as it tries to comfort him. “Need me to get you down?”

Instead of making him curl up again, the rumbling voice helps reminds him he’s with Vincent. His best friend won’t let him get hurt. “N-N-No.”

The giant hums. “It’s a good thing my pocket’s right below you if you manage to tumble off.”

Scott whacks at the thumb in retaliation, for both joking about him falling and for bringing up the pocket again. Yells in fear when everything jumps. “St-Stop bringing up the pocket, I’m not a pen!”

“I wouldn’t give a pen such an honor.” Before Scott can plan a better way to retaliate, the hand is slowly withdrawing, making him grasp the collar tightly as he’s given a full view of the world around him. “Only very pocketable Scotty’s who aren’t tall enough to reach the top.”

The need to payback overrides his fear. Reaching over the collar, he punches Vincent’s neck as hard as he can. Freezes when he feels the giant go eerily still. Realizes he just picked a fight with a giant.

Before Scott can plead for mercy, the ground rises up. With only one hand holding the collar with a white knuckled grip, the sudden motion pitches him forward. Not enough he falls over the edge, but enough he loses his balance and falls against Vincent’s neck, a shriek escaping as he feels the giant’s pulse thud powerfully against him. Then the shoulder flattens again, leaving him dazed.

Did he just get shrugged?

Any want to ask if that is, in fact, what happened, Vincent’s slowly standing up. Scott clings to the collar as the ground gets further and further away, making his head spin when he makes the mistake of looking straight down.

He knew his best friend was big. But from this angle, it suddenly hits him just how small he really is to Vincent. How it would be so easy to miss him on the ground. How effortless it’d be to simply pocket him. How it’d be impossible for Scott to demand respect and not be treated like something to grab and hold whenever the giant wanted to.

It’s humbling. And here he sits on a shoulder, no reason to be afraid of the hands that helped him up.

“How are you feeling, Scotty?”

“Tiny,” slips out before he can stop himself. “I mean good, I’m good!”

The shoulders jump once in a silent laugh, something Scott never thought he’d feel rather than see. “Alright, I’m going to head to the market now. If you need me to stop or offer a hand just let me know.”

With that Vincent begins to walk. Scott can feel every footstep as he’s jostled by everyone. It’s a lot more noticeable then when he was held in a hand, but it’s not enough to make him feel like he’ll get pitched off the side at any moment. No, the thing he’s most concerned about is the wind rushing past him, though the shirt’s collar seems to block most of it.

Once it becomes clear he can’t accidentally fall off, his heart starts to pound with excitement. Because he’s currently riding a giant on an alien planet.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s absolutely terrifying. It’s hard to not think about the fatal fall if Vincent gets shoved, or something snatching him away once he’s spotted. So many things could go wrong, and if the purple man doesn’t notice in time, Scott could be dead or sported away without any chance of ever being rescued.

Vincent’s stride is nothing but confident, however. And as they turn down a busy street filled with booming voices and looming creatures, they stay on the left side to keep any passing giants to the right and away from the shoulder Scott sits on.

He has absolutely nothing to worry about.

Without the need to look over his shoulder every two seconds, Scott’s eyes wonder down the street in front of them. Finds himself openly staring at the tens of creatures walking past buildings made of reflective glass that shines different colors whenever the angle changes. Wants to compare them to birds more than anything, with their long beaks and what seems to be feathers covering them from head to toe. Though the feathers look a lot heavier and shinier than anything he’s ever seen, almost like they were carved out of metal.

Unlike underground, they’re the only type of creature walking through the town. But even though Vincent sticks out like a sore thumb, he’s never so much as given a second glance.

“Have you been here before?” Scott asks.

“Once,” Vincent murmurs. “I stayed here for a couple weeks to earn a few credits. Tothans are used to different species coming here for the mining jobs, and most of them only stay for a bit before leaving for another planet.

Scott looks up in surprise. Realizes he can’t see Vincent’s expression, just the side of his face. “You mined while you were here?”

“I did, but not in the sense you’re thinking of.”

Scott waits for an elaboration, yelping when Vincent suddenly turns into a shop. Immediately his attention is grabbed by the rows upon rows of jars holding different colored liquids. Some seem to have something inside of them, others glow like they’re radioactive. And something he’s faced with the fact they might actually be.

“Would you have supplies needed for a Colossian medbay?” snaps him back to Vincent, stiffening when he realizes what kind of store they’re inside. Can’t help curling up closer to the purple man in the hopes he’s too small to be spotted.

A Tothan with features that seem to shine a blue color makes a motion with hands that curl into long talons as it whistles.

“Does that include for both sides of the ship?”

Scott feels the distinct weight of eyes land on him, goes so still he can’t even breathe when he realizes he’s being watched. Begins to tremble as it whistles again.

Suddenly, the shoulder beneath him shrugs. As he collides against Vincent’s neck, a gasp forces him to take a breath. That’s when he notices the giant is laughing. “Not yet, he only just started interstellar traveling.”

Scott doesn’t know what to say to that, but he’s no longer tense and waiting for something proficient in medical supplies to try and grab him. If Vincent isn’t worried for his safety, then nothing was said about holding him. Or using him for some kind of dissection.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t relieved when they finally leave the store. “You alright, Scotty?”

“I-I’m fine,” he murmurs, sending a glance behind him to make sure they weren’t being followed. “What did it say about me?”

“They were curious if you had a translator.”

Scott blinks, that having been the last thing he thought was said. “Oh.”

“You sound disappointed,” Vincent muses.

That earns the purple man a punch to the neck, and then a second one when he remembers he was shrugged earlier. “I’m not. I just didn’t expect it to be that.”

A thoughtful hum rumbles through the air, a silent question of what Scott did think was said. Rather than answer, he pointedly falls against his best friend with his arms crossed. Takes a moment to let his beating heart settle back down.

Vincent’s happy to let him. Walks in silent along the street before stopping in front of another store. “Want to stay on my shoulder?”

Scott takes a deep breath as he sits up. Tries to will the last of his nerves away as he grabs the collar again. “Yes.”

“You can-”

“I swear, if you guggest your pocket one more time.”

He can imagine Vincent’s wide smile perfectly, but his best friend wisely stays silent. Enters a store that has a noticeable glow to it. Though the closer he looks, he realizes it’s the items covering every inch of the walls making the soft blue light. Despite the fact they look like books, it’s made of technology instead of paper, the pages translucent until they’re opened, a display showing they’re supposed to create a hologram.

Scott wants to do nothing more than to try one.

“Vince.”

“Hm?”

“Are those interactive?” he asks as he leans forward. As if moving those few inches that might as well be micrometers to the giant will give him the answers he’s looking for. “What can they do? Are they-?”

His questions are cut off by a hand suddenly curling around him. He instantly kicks at the invading fingers, a fruitless attempt to keep from getting swept off the shoulder, ending with him tumbling into the warm palm with a yell.

His demand on why he was grabbed dies the second he sees a hologram hovering at the edge of Vincent’s fingers. Looks up to see the giant watching him with a smirk.

Taking that as encouragement, Scott carefully walks over the uneven surface until he’s close enough to reach the glowing picture of a swirling galaxy. He kneels down in the divot made by Vincent’s middle and first finger, using a finger print to steady himself as he leans forward to wave his hand through a glowing sphere.

The image seems to explode as the galaxy disappears and the sphere gets bigger. As it does, more details come into view, including swirling clouds Scott waves his hand through. It doesn’t zoom in again, but symbols appear in what he assumes to be writing about the planet he selected.

He swipes his arm to the right, making it turn with him. A swipe to the left gives the same reaction. But as he moves his hand up, the sphere shrinks until the galaxy appears again.

He could get lost in this for hours.

“Are these maps?” he asks, forcing himself to turn away from the hologram or else it will be impossible to get him away from it.

“Some of them are,” Vincent smiles, clearly amused by Scott’s amazement. “Others are about specific planets, species, ships. They’re all interactive, all able to be modified.”

He stops himself from asking how someone can modify them. Takes one more look at the hologram before carefully moving away from it. “Thanks for letting me see it.”

The purple man raises an eyebrow. “Are you done already?”

Scott nearly points toward a larger hologram a few steps away, wanting to try another book. But he holds himself back. “Yep, I’m good.”

He’s given a look that says he isn’t believed. Vincent lifts his hand back to his shoulder, waits until Scott has a hold of his collar before walking across the store. After looking through a few books, two are selected and brought to a counter where a red feathered creature takes them.

“Do you care blank ones for smaller species?”

The words seem to fly over his head until he realizes what’s being asked. Looks up at Vincent and sputters at an amber eye watching him, the corner of a smirk barely visible.

Before he can say anything, an almost microscopic book is placed on the counter and swept up along with the others once Vincent has tapped his card.

It’s only when they’re outside does he find his voice. “Vince!”

“What?”

“You know what!” Scott exclaims, fighting to try and keep his excitement out of his voice. “That better not have been for me.”

“And if it was?” the giant asks, clearly prideful of his actions.

Scott hesitates, torn between the fact he is grateful he gets a book all for himself, and the fact he hasn’t done anything to earn such a gift. “I can’t pay you back.”

“Wasn’t asking for it Scotty,” Vincent rumbles. “Though, if I can make a request, I’d like to see what college managed to teach you about drawing.”

That he is more than happy to do. “Thanks, Vince.”

“Oh, and it has to stay in my pocket.”

“That would make me a literal pen!”

[m1lfsh4ke]

Hello, how are you honey? Can I request a one shot dark smut Marilyn/Laurel x Reader? I would like Mari/Laurel to experiment with her jealousy and possessiveness, lots of mommy kink, spanking and whatever you feel comfortable writing. If you don't feel comfortable writing this, don't worry, I understand!

A/n: thank you for asking so nicely!

Twisted Joke

tw: possessive reader + top reader + shameless smut + spanking + implied choking + degrading + mommy kink + sub Marilyn + implied squirting + strap-on + possibly more I forgot to mention

Marilyn x fem!reader

On your way back to campus, you had picked up a matcha latte for Marilyn, an americano for Larissa, and a basic white mocha for yourself. Larissa had sent you off to Weathervane to run some errands for her and thought that you should stop by the cafe since it’s been a long, exhausting day for the three of you from Wednesday’s burden.

Knocking on Larissa’s door, you heard a muffled “come in!” Through the other side. You saw that Marilyn was standing by the fireplace with her, relieved that you didn’t have to walk around the campus looking for the other.

“Oh thank you, Y/n, this was so thoughtful of you,” Marilyn spoke, gently grabbing her drink from your hands as she moaned at the taste. You blushed while Larissa had looked down at her, smiling.

“Good, Marilyn?” Larissa asked. If it wasn’t in such a teasing tone, you wouldn’t be gripping onto your bosses drink, nearly squeezing the liquid out of it. Ms. Thornhill looked up at her, the rim still sealed on her lips as she nodded. The blonde let out a amused chuckle and you couldn’t do anything but to just watch.

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something here?” You placed Larissa’s drink on her desk, the annoyance in your voice now vividly clear. Larissa’s gaze averted to yours, surprised by the sudden change in tone, “perhaps Marilyn and I had ended our conversation. We were just… catching up on a few things we missed.”

She paused, winking down at the redhead as she seemed oblivious of the situation. Fire was raging beneath your skin. you wanted to take Marilyn in front of your boss and show her what noises she makes just for you. But most especially, show Marilyn who the better option is. You were aware of their previous “relationship” but you knew you were better than what Larissa had given to her.

“Thank you for the coffee Y/n.. and I’ll catch you some other time, Marilyn.” Larissa had sneaked the redhead a wink.

You mentally scoffed and dragged Marilyn out the office. “Ou-ouch, y/yn!-“ Marilyn winced at how hard your nails dug into her flesh.

“You just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?” You backed her to the door of your room, now letting go of her wrist as she shut her eyes by her back being pushed to the wooden material.

“Y-Y/n, I’m sorry!-“ she tried to protest, but you had already moved her hair to one side, attacking the bare skin of her jugular

“A-ah!- someone mi-might walk by!-“ she gasped between moans, fluttering her eyes open as she looked around the corridors.

“It’s so fucking infuriating, you know?” You pulled away, getting the keys from your pocket while still remaining eye contact with Marilyn. “Watching you be pulled around by other people. Do you love being others entertainment, Marilyn?” The keys slot into the keyhole as you twisted the knob open, nudging the redhead inside.

“ ‘M sorry-“ she whined, but you dismissed her. “Oh I’m sure you will,” with that, you pulled her into the bedroom, slamming your lips together as you began to undress her, only breaking the kiss to remove her shirt.

You sat on the edge of the bed, Marilyn still standing as you pulled her down so she’s now straddling your lap; One leg between her thighs.

“Pl-please..” she whimpered into your neck, trying to grind down on your clothed thigh. The fabric only adding more pleasure to her soaked core.

You grabbed the base of her hair, pulling her back as she let out a loud groan. “Oh Mari.. don’t hide your sounds. I want people to know who’s making you feel like this, okay?” Her eyes were wet with desperation and regret, but nonetheless, she nodded. “Good girl..” you spoke, getting ahold of her hips as you pushed her down your thigh, making her rut against it.

“Fuck!-“ she moaned, hands grasping your shoulders as her slick soaked through your dress pants, leaving a shimmer. Her moans echoed around the room, purposely leaving your bedroom door open so she could be heard all throughout the small apartment and hopefully from outside.

“Oh fuck, Mari.. doing so good, yeah?“ you groaned at hearing her pleading whimpers, sneaking two fingers inside her as you bounced your leg, making them thrust deeper as her eyes shut and her mouth hung out a silent scream.

“Go-gonna cum all over you!- pl-please, ts too much!-“ her glasses were sitting on the very edge of her nose, her pussy squelching with each thrust of your fingers. You began to bounce your leg faster and higher, making the pleasure unbearable for the redhead as she came all over your thighs, moaning as she fell onto the croak of your neck. Just as she thought everything was over, you slowly curled your fingers inside of her, making her cry out.

“M-mommy, pl-please I can’t!-“ she cried out, trying to lift her hips off from your fingers, but that came as a disadvantage as that only make her bounce back down onto your length. “My dear Marilyn, This isn’t about your pleasure anymore,” you confessed to her ears, making her whimper as your pushed her down on the bed.

You flipped her over, making her chest face down with her knees prompting her ass in the air. Her glasses were still on as you righten them.

Marilyn’s ass was on display with her legs spread, getting a clear vision of her glistening pussy. “Oh you’re so precious..” you cooed, running your hands around her ass as you left a hard slap, making her jolt. Then came a second “Oh!-“ she winced at the stinging pain once it occurred a fifth time.

Her ass was red. A few prints indenting on her pale skin as you squeezed it, easing the stinging sensation.

You slid off your button up along with your pants, throwing them on the floor beside the bed. You reached up to your nightstand as Marilyn watched what you grabbed. Her eyes watering at the strap. Of course you had to choose the biggest size you two owned.

She whined, feeling it rest above her ass as you tied the harness around your thighs until you laid down and positioned herself on top of you.

She hasn’t sunk in, just letting the tip slap her entrance as she jolts. “F-fuck, mommy please-? Ts too much, I can’t-“ you ignored her, sinking her down until she swallowed the top, making her nearly fall forwards. “Aww baby… was last night too much for you? Are you still sore?” You tilted your head, bringing a hand to sooth at her cheek, spreading a tear around her cheekbone with your thumb.

“Come on Marilyn, just seven more inches and everything will be fine,” you smiled at her, sinking her deeper into you as she tries to escape. You huffed on an amused laugh, admiring her failed attempts.

“Jesus baby, are you too dumb to do it yourself or do I have to help you?” You spoke, slamming her down to your dick as she fell forwards, shuddering on a loud moan.

You made her sit up, grabbing her throat as she leaned backwards, grabbing ahold of your thighs behind her as you thrusted upwards.

“Fuck fuck fuck!-“ high pitched moans left her mouth as her glasses almost bounced off with your thrusts, leaving it on the bridge of her nose once again.

“So fucking tight, it’s like you’re meant for me Marilyn,” you breathed out, bottoming out when you see her breasts bounce with each of your thrusts. “Mmph!- so fucking close for y-you!-“ at this point, Marilyn was screaming.

You could see a little bulge forming in her lower abdomen from the tip of your strap that you couldn’t help but graze your free hand over. Marilyn was now moving on her own. A light sheen of sweat formed on your forehead as you finally got to rest for a bit.

Your hands were brought to her hips, helping her ride you. “So fucking close!-“ she moaned out, slamming your hips to meet hers once again. “Ah!- shit!-“ a clear liquid shot right through her hole as her legs shook.

“ ‘S fucking good!-“ was her last moan before your movements came to a stop. Marilyn fell down, snuggling on your chest as you gave her a kiss filled with passion. Your chests were heaving, trying to catch your breaths as you couldn’t help but giggle at Marilyn’s foggy glasses.

You took pity, removing them for her and placing it on the nightstand.

The two of you were about to fall asleep before a knock came from your door.

“Y/n, Marilyn?” The voice matched with Larissa’s. A smile crept up on your lips and Marilyn couldn’t help but hide in the croak of your neck, embarrassed.

…

A/n: this probably made zero sense at all😭😭

[a-crumb-of-whump]

ANB Drabble: Warmth

ANB Masterlist | Comfortember 2023 Masterlist | @comfortember

~ Comfortember | Day 4: Warmth ~

Content: Vampire whumpee, [mentioned] burns, recovery, blood (for the sake of feeding).

-

It was too warm for comfort today. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the constant looming anxiety that had him checking every window in his bedroom to ensure that they were secure and wrapping a thick blanket around his shoulders despite the fact that it caused him to sweat nearly instantly. 

And it only got worse when he realised that both his humans were at work by the time he woke up. Everything was completely silent apart from Murphy’s footsteps on the floor as he came to greet him. He was tentative in every footstep, hiding his face as he stepped around corners in case someone forgot to close the curtains. 

In the kitchen sat his morning glass of blood and a messily-written note that clearly resembled Ryker’s handwriting. 

Good morning! I left this morning’s breakfast lukewarm instead of heating it up in the microwave, though you’re welcome to heat it up yourself. The entire house has been double checked, so I promise no sun is getting in. When you’re finished with your food, put the glass in the dishwasher and check the living room for a little surprise if you haven’t already. 

Ryker. 

Carlos smiled, his shoulders relaxing a little as he slowly worked his way through the note. It was comforting to know they’d thought about him before leaving, enough to make sure he would be safe to wander. 

After downing the entire drink in a matter of seconds, he swiped the remaining drops out with his finger as he did every day and set it upside down in the already-opened dishwasher before tilting his gaze towards the other room. He’d never been big on surprises. Things he didn’t know scared him, even if they turned out to be good. 

Nonetheless, Ryker had requested that he at least take a look, and his trust in him had grown enough by now that he was fairly confident that it would be okay. 

So, he tucked Ryker’s note into his back pocket and tiptoed his way into the living area, his blanket still held protectively around his shoulders as a few beads of sweat fell down his forehead. If he were smarter, he might have opted for something lighter. Like a long-sleeved shirt or a thinner blanket. However, the mere thought of getting burnt for even a second was enough to eliminate those as options, and he held onto the fabric even tighter to stop it from slipping. 

Much to his surprise, there was a fort of some kind waiting for him in the left corner of the room, made out of different comforters and pillows that he assumed were spares from the closet at the very end of the hallway. It was all held together by the bookshelf on one side and the communal computer desk on the other, lightly trapping the fabric against the wall. 

There was a second note waiting for him when he poked his head inside, sitting in the middle of a handmade nest of pillows. Carlos was already smiling as he picked it up. 

I know you must be feeling insecure today with the weather being as hot as it is. So Adam and I also thought you might appreciate a dark space to hide in while we’re gone. You used to make them for me sometimes and they always made me feel a bit safer. I hope this can do the same for you. 

Also if the fort hasn’t fallen apart by the time I get home, I will be joining you.

Ryker 

It was perfect. Everything Carlos needed to make it through the day was right here. A dark space with no windows, a soft surface to sleep on, two animals to keep him company. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done to get so lucky but accepted it nonetheless. 

Despite it still being a little too warm for his liking, he was calm. Content. More than he’d ever been on a hot day like this, especially after Murphy curled up by his side in a way that at least blocked his face from the exit. The only place where light would ever be able to get in. 

Safe, safe, safe.

-

Comfortember 2023 masterlist: @topsheepstudent

ANB Taglist: @choppedflowermuffinchild @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @emcscared-whumps @espresso-depresso-system @inkkswhumpandstuff @lumariane @pigeonwhumps @pumpkin-spice-whump @roblingoblin285 @sacredwrath @some-thrilling-heroics @stabby-nunchucks @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @trans-writes @whump-blog @whumpsday @whumpshaped @paniatheweirdone @whumpycries @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thekittyburger @whumpdreamz

[enam3l]

It's Rockstar!Eddies Birthday and his s.o. has organised an suprise party. What is his reaction and who will attend? 🖤 ( PS: Love your work)

i love this one, it might be my fave request! so naturally i got far too into it and it's no where near a blurb!!

the wish (rockstar eddie x reader) ficlet / fluff / the whole gang / cute joyce

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

The problem with dating a rockstar was there was always a party to attend. Eddie was inundated with invites every week: post-gig parties, promotional parties, venue launches and old school house parties. After a couple of months of fame, all those parties just feel the same. This made planning what to do for Eddie's first birthday with you so difficult. There was no denying, your man loved a party but at heart, Eddie was intimate; he felt most comfortable and content with the people he loved the most. 

For nearly all of his life, birthdays were often just another day for an Eddie Munson. His mom gone before he could really remember the occasion and his dad too wasted to remember the actual date. But with Wayne, Eddie's birthday was the only date he ever remembered. Frequently, Wayne often forgot when his own birthday was but his nephews was etched into his brain. Holidays weren't an option at his workplace and money was always tight. Therefore, every year before Eddie could wake up, the older man would go to the bakery the moment it opened and get one cupcake. When Eddie would wake up, he'd be met with a grinning Wayne (a rare sight) a glass of chocolate milk and the prized cupcake with a flickering candle. Despite being told not to, Wayne would scrimp and save throughout the year, any change found down the sofa or in a pocket was added to Eddie's birthday fund. Between each birthday he would gather an amalgamation of trinkets for his nephew, curiosities found in junk shops, cool t-shirts from charity shops and always whatever latest record he'd seen Eddie eye up through the store window. 

Once the candle was out, Eddie would head to school and Wayne to bed for his night shift later. Ignoring his uncles protests, he'd save the cupcake for later; the pair halving it in the evening before Wayne went to work. 

School was spent head down, quieter than usual in a desperate attempt for the student body to never know his birthday and draw more attention to himself. Once he had Hellfire and later the gang, this was still understood by them. The word 'birthday' wasn't uttered until the bell rang and they'd meet at the picnic table and pass some birthday joints around. Hellfire would club together to get gifts that would aid their campaigns, Eddie always insisted if they must get him a gift then it has to be something useful they can all enjoy. So they'd get a new manual, some figurines or cool dice. Then, nicely stoned they'd to Gareth's, curb their munchies with pizza and watch a film. 

The gang entering Eddie's life was the first time people truly made a fuss of his birthday. Heartfelt gifts were bought for him and he could never believe it. Even now he struggles to believe he has people who know and care about him so much that they would spend money on him and on things he'd treasure forever and never buy himself. Then, a real party was thrown at Steve's sprawling house. A tradition held up even once Corroded Coffin moved to New York and made it. Birthdays were always spent in Hawkins. Although whenever Eddie returned back to the city, an unnecessarily extravagant party was thrown by the label. Eddie would watch the bustling room full of people he barely knew who were merely enticed by a the promise of a good time - but it was never his own idea of a good time. 

Without fail, every years wish as he blew out the candle whether it be on Wayne's cupcake, a homemade masterpiece by the gang or a gaudy 4ft cakey monstrosity ordered by his management, the wish was always the same. Eddie wished to have someone by his side. Last birthday, the wish was finally heard. Eddie met you at the beginning of 89 and now November had come back around and he was about to spend his birthday with someone he was in love with, for the first time ever.  

After knowing about Eddie's past birthdays, you decided exactly what he deserved. As per tradition, he travelled back down to Hawkins although this time with you by his side. Sneakily, you'd suggested spending the night before sleeping over at Wayne's so they could have his birthday morning together. When you attempted to slip out the house, you were cornered by your boyfriend, squinted eyes scanning your face in suspicion. 

'Where do you think you're going?'

You put on your best poker face. 

'Letting you have some father son time! Catch up with your old man whilst I do some errands,' you smiled innocently. 

Eddie put on his sulkiest pout.

'But I wanna spend my day with my girl, for the first time everrrr,' he whined. 

'And you will! I'm all yours just give me a couple of hours!'

You put on your sweetest face that he couldn't say no to, pecked him and swept out the door. You slipped away to Eddie's own house in Hawkins. It was beautiful and just very Eddie. Back in New York you now had an apartment together but the status of  where you stood concerning his house was unknown. He'd told you how it had always been his dream house and one day it finally went on sale and he bought it. Eddie was adamant one day this is where he would have a family - when he said this you hoped it was with you. But for now, the house was the venue for this evening. No ragers or anything, you'd decided to have something special because that's what he deserved. A big meal sat down with the people he loved and who loved him the most. 

For November, the weather was good. Nice, dry and not too chilly. So as you'd been with Eddie, the gang had been setting up in accordance to your meticulous instructions. A long table was set outside on the patio in the large garden, prepared with blankets and a bonfire blazing to keep everyone warm throughout the evening. The table set with candle sticks and various decorations; a banquet fit for a dungeon master. For weeks you'd pestered everyone in Eddie's life to discover his favourite meals and snacks and tonight, that's exactly what he was getting. Just an intimate night with his favourite food and favourite people, the only interloper was a chef you'd hired who had been amused at the bizarre and varying menu.

The house was littered with balloons and banners. The living area set up with a makeshift bar and space cleared for a little dance floor, stereo system set up with Eddie's favourite songs and patio doors wide open out onto the table and crackling fire. It was perfect, just right for the perfect man. The final touches were adding the name cards to the table: the birthday boy, yourself, Dustin, Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Max, Lucas, El, Will, Mike, Joyce, Hopper and Wayne. Eddie would do something with the Corroded Coffin boys when he went back to New York. 

Admiring everyone's hard work, you practically squealed and called your helpers over. Steve, Robin, Dustin and Joyce had been working overtime on the whole thing whilst you'd distracted Eddie. 

'Thank you so much guys, it's absolutely perfect. Better than I imagined. I hope he loves it,' your hands clasped together under your chin, giddy with excitement and nerves. 

'Of course!' Robin beamed. Dustin nodded in agreement, 'It's so sick, he won't believe it.' After a quick see you later, they both went off to do some last minute jobs. Leaving you with Steve and Joyce. Joyce took your hand sweetly. 

'It's really beautiful, Y/N... all of this. What you've done for him, I hope you know,' she squeezes your hand and gives you a loving smile. After he'd narrowly escaped the Upside Down, Eddie finally met the Byers. A kinship quickly forming between himself and the boys who he saw himself both in. As for Joyce, she took one look at him and tucked him under her wing - she knew when a boy needed a mother. 

Steve nodded to Joyce's words and once she'd left he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

'She's right you know and she doesn't just mean this party. You've changed him, for the better. Healed something in him that none of us ever could. You're... you're the best thing that's ever happened to Eddie.' 

You look up at Steve, the pair of you are teary eyed. You're barely able to choke out,

'Thank you. He deserves it. He's my everything.'

Eddie sat in the passenger seat, arms folded and eyes again squinting in suspicion as you pulled up outside his house. 

'What are we doing here? Thought we were just going to Steve's for a drink' 

You sigh tugging him by his shirt sleeve. He looked gorgeous when he wore a button up, well barely buttoned up - he let it expose a good portion of chest. 

'So suspicious Edward!' you sighed, 'we are, he just wanted us to pick some CDs up first.'

He just shrugged and followed you through the front door, completely unassuming. You were glad he was behind you and couldn't see the smirk you were failing to mask; proud of how well you'd lied. The house was completely dark and finally you led him into the living area. The candles and bonfire flickered outside, illuminating the group gathered at the table. Eddie squinted then gasped, hand instinctively grabbing you. Everyone finally noticed you and jumped up,

'SURPRISE!'

Eddie's mouth formed an adorable little O. His big brown eyes wider than ever, sparkling with the candle light. Looking between everyone then at you, then back at them, stuck in a loop until you tugged him outside. Eddie absorbed everything before him. Every single person he adored and considered his family sat there, chatting away and grinning and they were all there for him. The table set up like a medieval banquet he would've conjured up for a D&D campaign. And he noticed it littered with everyone of his favourite snacks. He pulled you back for a moment of privacy, arms holding you tight against his chest. 

'D-did you do all of this, sweetheart? For me?' His voice and face was incredulous. You leant up to brush away some curls, cupping his blushed cheeks. 

'Of course! Well, everyone helped. Wanted to give you a special day! I knew you wouldn't want a party so...'

Eddie crushed his lips to yours in a desperate but sweet kiss, one that said I can't believe someone loves me like this. 

'It was always going to be special... I finally got to spend my birthday with someone like you,' he whispered after breaking the kiss. 

You chuckled although weren't quite sure exactly what he meant but you knew it was meaningful. 'Well, Eds you just deserved to see how much everyone loves you. Feel as special as you make everyone, make me feel.' 

'I love you, so much Y/n,' Eddie's eyes had grown tearful. 

'I love you too,' you replied, blinking away your own tears. 

Throughout the night, Eddie's smile got wider and wider. His hand rested on the table, never letting go of yours except to eat. And each course he gasped, questioning how on earth you found out about this specific meal he liked. It felt perfect, spending a night like this, just being able to talk to everyone he adored. Now with his busy lifestyle, it was something he struggled to do. Once the main course had finished, Eddie frowned as Wayne disappeared and you quickly followed. He hoped his uncle was alright, Wayne was quiet and kept to himself so this must've been quite surreal. Although, after the whole ordeal, he and Hopper had struck up a strong friendship. Bonding over being solitary men with excellent moustaches who somehow found themselves being parents. Just as Eddie was raising from his seat in order to find you both, you and Wayne appeared in the patio doors. 

Smiles lit up on both your faces by a multitude of tiny flickering birthday candles. The whole group erupted into song. 

'Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you, 

Happy birthday dear Eddie,

Happy birthday to you!'

For the several time tonight, Eddie found his jaw dropped. As the two people he loved must in the world approached, he took in just exactly what they were holding. You and Wayne had a whole tray of those special little cupcakes he'd make sure to buy Eddie every birthday morning. Wayne could see the moment of realisation on his nephew's face and they shared a look. His firm aged hand gripping Eddie's shoulder as he blew out his candles. 

Before you could process, a frosty finger was smeared against your lips and you couldn't scold Eddie when he looked at you like that. 

'What did you wish for?' You giggled, transferring the icing back over in a frosty kiss. 

'Secret,' Eddie smirked, ringed finger tapping his nose, 'but for the first time in my life, I had to think of a new one!' 

'Oh yeah?' 

'Yeah,' he smiled thoughtfully, 'after all those years of asking, finally got what I wanted... you.' 

'Oh,' was all you could manage to say. 

You're sure you could hear your heart burst now realising what Eddie had meant earlier. All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and he pulled you onto his lap. The pair of you giggling like idiots as you fed each other cupcakes. 

This, is what Eddie wished for this time. To spend the rest of his birthdays now with you and hopefully over time, the table would grow longer with more family additions. 

my taglist angels: @whoahoney @lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology @mseddiemunson @kreepja

[raeraesmentality]

A while ago I downloaded a game called "The Arcana" on a whim cause it looked like a cool fantasy game and then forgot about it, but I started playing it recently and uh. My aroace ass keeps forgetting it is, in fact, primarily a fantasy romance game, not a fantasy murder mystery.

Like really early on there's a scene where your character catches one of the main characters coming out of your shop when it's closed and you're given the option to search him to see if he took anything. And this character is wanted for the murder that set the whole plot in motion. And the way things are set up in the narrative he most likely didn't do it (or if he did was justified) but there's still SOMETHING going on and he's at the heart of it and this is the second time you've found this character snooping around your shop so clearly he has SOME connection to the shop. So I figure, it can't hurt to search the guy even if he didn't take anything from the shop because I might find something on him to help piece things together, right? But then the dialogue starts to feel a bit off and I'm like "WHAT is up with this wierd vibe" before I remember. Oh yeah this is a romance game and I just told my character to put their hands up the shirt of one of the potential love interests, THAT'S what's up with the wierd vibe.

And I didn't even find anything in his pockets to solve the mystery

And stuff like this keeps happening and it's hilarious. Like I'll be exploring a cool alternate dimension with someone and I'll suddenly have the option pop up to kiss them and it feels so jarring to me because I was too focused on the upside down rain and theorizing why this character magically blocked my characters memories of their true first meeting to notice the romantic framing of the scene.

[dozenssporks]

*the video opens with a distant shot of Vash laying in the shade of a sand dune making a ‘snow’ angel*

Wolfwood, speaking from behind the camera: there he is, ladies and gents, the most feared outlaw in the tri-state area

Vash: only that infamous? my ratings have dropped.

Wolfwood slowly zooms in until it’s a close up of Vash’s face as he stares at the sky: you’ve been laying there for, like, an hour. Don’tcha have anything to do, you lazy bum?

Vash: I am contemplating. The life. The Universe. The everything. That cloud looks like a jelly doughnut. Now shush.

the shot slowly zooms out again and wolfwood whispers: I am bored out of my mind so I am going to do something drastic. Ready? Okay. *raising his voice* Hey, needle-noggin! What’s your opinion of America’s public transport system?

Vash, sitting bolt upright in a shower of sand: it’s The Worst! It’s patchy, incomplete, inconsistent! There are hundreds and hundreds of desolate miles where the only option is a car because nobody bothered to put a train there. Do you know what that means when you can’t drive? It means you walk! My boots have racked up more miles than a soccer mom’s SUV--

Wolfwood, whispering again: and off he goes . . .

^Vash gets up and begins to march around, waving his arms dramatically to emphasize his points or express his frustration. The camera calmly follows him back and forth. There are several cuts so Vash’s ranting jumps from point to point and country to country, a timer in the corner of the screen records how long he’s been talking, more than twenty minutes. The smooth dune becomes a a churning sea of footprints*

Vash, pointing sharply: --and that’s why England’s railway--!

Wolfwood, suppressing giggles: what about, dunno, Italy?

Vash: Italy, well, I got pick-pocketed on public transport there actually

Wolfwood: for real? someone picked the humanoid typhoon’s pocket?

Vash: yeah--oh! That reminds me, hang on!

*Vash dives forward, sliding to a stop at his destination on his knees. He pulls open his bag and rifles through the contents. Odds and ends spill out and a couple odd shirt-sleeves are trailing in the sand before he pulls out a wallet*

Vash: so um *pulls an id card out of the wallet and glances at it* Drusilla Zuccaro if you are watching this I’m sorry I took your wallet and forgot to give it back and forgot I still had it until just now. It was going to be a great bit where you thought you’d got my wallet but I’d got yours and I’d give it back and we’d laugh and you’d turn over a new leaf and never pick-pocket again. I, uh, kinda had to hoof it due to various misunderstandings and it slipped my mind. I’d offer to send it back to you but it’s been, uuhhh, five months? You’ve probably got a new id and stuff by now . . .

Wolfwood, voice shaking with suppressed laughter: there wasn’t any cash?

Vash, looking sideways: . . . it was only maybe fourteen euros and a guy on the run has gotta eat, you know

Wolfwood: vash the stampede committing petty theft? you disgust me

Vash, on his knees, hands pressed together: Scusami tanto, ti chiedo scusa dal profondo del cuore. Sono mortificato, chiedo scusa.

Wolfwood: yeah, yeah, so what are you gonna do about it?

Vash, sadly and a little sulky: Ti rimborserei ma non ho soldi

Wolfwood: Imma take a wild guess and say you’re saying you’re broke

Vash, muttering and drawing circles in the sand:  sì

Wolfwood: you’re a total deadbeat you know that, spiky?

Vash, throwing himself down into the sand, tears streaming down his face: leave me and my deadbeat feelings to die

Wolfwood: want some absolution?

Vash: keep your stupid little confession box away from me! Didn’t you hear me? I have no money! I’m already in debt!

*Vash continues to weep noisily as the camera pans over the dunes and setting sun*

Wolfwood: that was fun. next time I’m gonna ask him about, um, types of socks maybe. This is where I’d ask you to like and subscribe but y’all know we don’t work like that. Otherwise we’d be scamming you for donations and ol’ needle-noggin here would have money for bus fare. Buh-bye.

*video ends*

[honorary-fool]

Nameless Bard Cosplay Breakdown

Why? Why not (I want to share my creation especially with seeing so many tiktok cosplays of them, but never any guides/posts about how people. did stuff for them /lh)

I..don't know how well screen-readers will handle such a long post. I hope it works out okay.

Note: final image does not have alt image text at the time of posting, but I intend to add it later on

add alt text to images (all minus final since that would be a picture from the morning of)

Cloak

This thing is LONG. I'm about 5'1/155 cm, and this thing goes down to my KNEES (& big hood too!)

The inside fabric is from old off-white/beige bedsheets, and the outside fabric was from joann's (link).

I used a pattern from Aliceincosplayland on Etsy (link) (note: you don't need to buy a pattern to make a cloak- I bought it because of the different options between the lengths & hood sizes) ; for mine, I used the knee-length pattern & the larger hood size.

The large covered hook & eye also from joann's (link).

POCKETS! There's 2 small pockets close to the edges, & a bigger one I added this year to fit things like my PDM, testing kit, battery pack, etc. The smaller pockets have wooden buttons & button holes, the bigger one has a snap w/ a wooden button hot-glued on top because I didn't wanna tinker with the button hole foot.

Windblume Flower

I forgot what I traced but I made patterns for the leaves and petals & used a tutorial to make the tassels with red embroidery thread.

It's made of felt, hot glue, and I hand-sewed some bits like the button in the middle. It's also removable & fastens via safety pin sewed into the back.

Shirt

I gotta be honest, I forgot to work on it and tried to finish it about a week before the con. It looked like it was going well, but little errors made it look not up to the standard I was holding myself to and I hated it. I didn't even add the finishing touches with the shirt's collar's closure, or the ruffles on the cuffs of the sleeves. Instead, I'm using the original shirt I got off amazon last year (link), which I'm glad I kept intact when trying t make the second version's pattern.

I wanted to make another variation that was closer to his canonical outfit and was not made out of that plasticky fabric material (not that it was uncomfy, I just thought it'd be better for a convention center with a lotta people). The arm holes were a bit too big, the neck hole was a bit snug, and I botched the collar almost entirely. Lesson learned, make mockups and do not procrastinate on your projects until the week before the event.

I have the picture of it in this post.

If it counts, last year I made a slight alteration to the original shirt in which I sewed part of the slit in the top so it didn't go as deep. That's about it, honestly.

Shorts

Honestly, these weren't too bad overall. I cut the triangle panels out of white fabric, used embroidery thread for the criss-cross bits, and hand-sewed said panels onto the shorts.

It's great 'cus it has pockets and it's adjustable with the drawstring on the inside.

Wig

This fucker (part 2)

I combined a wig off Amazon (link) with wefts from hair extensions (link; though it comes with two I used just under one weft for both briads) to get the general shape

I went into detail on how I redid it here (also where the pictures are) but to sum it up: washed out hairspray/gel from last year, trimmed & rebraided the longer strands, used hairspray to do the bangs & gel to fix the ends.

Belt

I had this old brown fabric from an old sewing class project that I used. I measured the length by putting the rest of the costume on and using a measuring tape, overlapping a little so there was room to add the snaps for a closure. I think I used the trim from an old bedsheet and put it on either of the longer ends, then painted it yellow to match the bard's. Semi-reliable snap closure sewn in later, then boom, belt!

Lyre Prop

I forgot what I traced to make this pattern too, but I made it out of felt, essentially a stuffed toy. The little bar bit at the top is a separate pattern piece, as I tried making it all into one and was unable to turn it inside out. I forgot what kind of cord/string I used for the lyre strings, I just remember using mod podge to stiffen it as a finishing touch.

I used it last year as a prop, but I ended up just carrying it around so it might be best to leave home unless you plan to take a lotta pictures.

Miscellaneous Parts

Corset Belt: bought off amazon (link) ; It's comfy for the most part. liked the idea of a faux corset as opposed to the vest

Boots: last year I used a different set of boots that I've had for years, this year I'm using slightly newer boots that I got off my brother since they're small on him. They're timberlands I think? A li'l bit of height, lace-up, slight heel, feels 3% more badass /j

Makeup: I... know very little about makeup. I highly doubt the bard used makeup back then (/j). With that in mind, I really just use black eyeshadow & an eyebrow brush to fill my brows in and that's it. I use an old eyeshadow palette, but I also have an eyeshadow stick from the dollar store that works if you wet it slightly (mostly because it's a year old and is dried out by now..probably).

Wisp Prop: Touched on in this post, I like to take along one of my wisp dolls- the second one I've ever made, specifically. Made with my own personal pattern, he's easy to tuck away into a smaller pocket with just his head sticking out. I'll never forget the excitement of the Bennett and Fischl cosplayers I ran into last year when I took the wisp out to show them. 100/10, easily my favorite prop. The only real change made to him is that he has glow in the dark paint on his eyes, which probably won't do much in a convention setting but I still think it's cool.

Sword Prop: Very unnecessary & impromptu, but also very fun. At last year's con there was a vendor selling foam game/anime weapons and I got a foam Freedom Sworn. At the time of writing this out, I'm unsure if I will be taking it with me this year or not, since I can't exactly store it under my cloak when I'm not holding it.

Final Reveal!

(like I said at the top, this image is the only one w/out alt image text; I'll add it later)

(face scribbled over for comfort reasons)

[laalaaisqueen]

A caves thing I wrote with Laa-Laa, I'll post the Mountains one later

Because I was following a video, everything is kinda all over the place. And not that accurate because I got stuck at a certain part in the video and I was just D O NE

Laa-Laa had a vague feeling of being here before but didn't give it much thought. It was really dark in the caves except for some pretty bright things. She had good sight though, so she would be able to find her way.

She paused when she saw a paper on the ground, she gently picks it up and right away she could tell a child wrote it based on the writing style.

She sets it back down and continues on, she had no idea where she was going but what other option did she have?

The yellow Tubby did come across a pit but there was zero chance of her jumping to the other side. She sighs as she turns around and walks through what felt like endless tunnels.

Despite her best efforts she began thinking about Dipsy's strangled neck. She thought about Tinky's shaky breathing.

Communication was a hard concept for Dipsy but he probably should've expressed his feelings towards the taller Teletubby in a different way…rather than slightly sexual advances.

But even with the possibility of Tinky Winky snapping one day, it still was unlike Tinky to resort to murder. (Maybe hit him with his bag, but not murder) It was strange and she wanted to know why, but she had no way of knowing.

She's brought out of her thoughts upon finding ANOTHER pit and another paper. She frowns at the contents. Was some sick fuck experimenting on children?

Laa-Laa puts this one in her shirt.

What? These shorts didn't have pockets!

She begins once again pushing herself through this damn maze. She could hear a weird breathing, was there an animal in here with her?

Ugh, she hoped it was asleep or something. She didn't need that added onto her horrible night.

Laa-Laa tenses up hearing some kind of roar.

Well shit, she doesn't see anything but she still needed to be careful.

After a few minutes of hoping to find an exit, she almost forgot about the roar.

Until she heard it again.

Closer.

Laa-Laa did not look behind her because that would be stupid. Instead she ran.

God must have decided to help her out since she found a 'room' with a door looking gate. But before she could close it herself, it suddenly slammed shut.

And for some reason the creature did not try to break it down.

When saw the dawn light coming from an exit, she then only felt the cuts on her legs she had gotten while running away from that thing.

Nothing to do about that right now.

…Wait dawn? How long has she been in these caves?!

Ugh don't think Laa-Laa, just go forward.