#you're not a real mechanic if you have both arms

[soulshards]

ma'am you gotta stop

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Oh we are so BACK

When I tell you I saw this and died. HELLO?????

I keep hiding my face lahshjsdhjgfsaf HE HAS NO RIGHT. NO RIGHT AT ALL BEING THAT SEXILY INTENSE AAAAAAAAAAA

Anyway, I should probably try to make some attempt at describing the event since. If I don't I'll just be barking/crying/hiding my face for the next twelve hours.

Basically--and I'm not sure this is going to be across the board, but it held true for Napoleon and Sebastian at least--each suitor has a birthday event this year instead of a separate story. Comte's won't be released until tomorrow, but they have posted a preview.

From what I gather, he talks a little bit about himself and reveals parts of his past that haven't come to light in the game yet. There wasn't really enough to convey a coherent narrative beyond attending a party, but the line displayed here does get across the larger theme:

Comte: (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.)

He talks about how the aristocracy have thrown parties and extravagant celebrations for his birthday for most of his life. But none of it has ever really made him happy, largely because he knows that they are attempts to strengthen and broadcast power relations within high society. While I don't think he means it's entirely devoid of well wishes, I do think he sees it as a nexus of influence--and thus, by nature, impersonal. And honestly, I don't think he's wrong about that; the higher the echelon in social standing, the more it requires performance to maintain the position.

That being said, there is a fascinating flashback where he remembers a pureblood telling him about how falling in love with a human is an experience of another caliber entirely. My understanding is that Comte was still a fairly young vampire at the time, so he didn't really understand what the person was getting at. It seems like the other pureblood was trying to convey the difference in feeling, perhaps the fact that humans are more grounded in accordance with how they live--the reality and necessity of change.

After reading this--and the recent 5th bday story--I can absolutely see how change is something Comte has a complicated relationship with. He's known a certain way of life for so long, has constructed a sensibility of distant, rational maturity. After all the heartbreak of his youth, and two very acute traumatic events in his life, I can see why he'd be so afraid of broaching any kind of proximity with another person. Because on some level it's so much easier not to put your feelings on the line, to never have to fear devastating loss. And that's to say nothing of the worry of being unable to measure up on behalf of another person, of letting them down.

I'm so excited to see the rest of the contents, but something about the preview made me equal parts giddy and enamored (all I do is kick my feet with excitement LOL). I think what gets to me with Comte is that he truly does love companionship as a place to rest, a place where he can be honest about himself and his feelings without fear of ridicule (and the same goes for MC). In a world increasingly obsessed with surface level performances of power, status, and emotion, it's hard not to feel his exhaustion to the core.

Also, because these lines at the end more or less destroyed me in the best possible way:

MC: ...The you who had nowhere to belong no longer exists. In much the same way...Abel, I belong to you. Comte: ... Comte: I wish I could say to myself all those years ago, the me who kept indulging in such paltry things. Comte: Until you meet MC, you will never know love... The warmth of MC in my arms filled me with such joy I was near tears. (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.) The moment my lips found hers, the sweetness lit a fire deep in my body. Comte: These cute lips that melt against mine, the heat of your skin, the love that envelops me in your embrace--always leaves me so deeply in love with you.

[snekdood]

Your impulse to believe every last bad thing people say about a guy and then if that guy is victimized by those people or the people who spread the rumors you dont even try to look into if thats even the case, you just assume hes bad by default-- yeah thats incredibly unfair to guys who are victims of abuse.

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than tummies

Been thinking about plushies lately and wanted to make a set of fabric-themed Etrian Odyssey classes for playing as and fighting plushies

Scissorblade - A melee class that specializes in attack buffs and basic attacks, and wields limited elemental damage. Sharp Snip: Melee cut attack. Basic attacks guaranteed to crit next turn. Temper Blades: Increases physical damage and crit chance to one ally line for 3 turns. Double Attack: Passive. Gives a chance to make two basic attacks. Heated/Frosted/Static Edge: Increases physical damage and imbue basic attacks with fire/ice/volt to one ally line for 3 turns. Burning/Frigid/Voltic Cut: Melee cut+fire/ice/volt attack to one enemy line.

Ragstainer - A melee class specializing in ailments, with attacks that lower bind/ailment resistance and ailment attacks that can splash ailments. Rip Up: Melee cut attack. Lowers bind+ailment resistance for 3 turns. Mud Blot: Melee bash attack. Inflicts blind on all enemies in the row. Mud Splash: Inflicts blind on all enemies. On failure, reduces bind+ailment resistance for 3 turns. Bleach Bash: Melee bash attack. If the target has an ailment, remove it to greatly increase damage.

Night-Knight - A defensive melee class that can create extra HP in the form of padding and share it with allies to soak up damage. Fluff Up: Gain a large amount of padding. Auto Fluff: Passive. At start of combat, chance to use Fluff Up for free. Swaddle Ally: Gain some padding. One ally shares user's padding for 3 turns. Swaddle Line: Gain some padding. One ally line shares user's padding for 3 turns. Selfless Swaddle: Gain some padding. For 3 turns, all other party members share user's padding, but the user does not. Pillow Hammer: Melee bash attack. Spend all padding to increase damage proportional to padding spent. Nightfall Hammer: Melee bash attack. Stronger with less remaining HP.

Stitchstabber - A melee class with high speed that can use splash and piece attacks to stitch enemies together; when one enemy is hit by a single-target attack, all stitched enemies are hit. Side-Stitch: Melee stab attack that splashes to adjacent enemies. Hit enemies are stitched together. Straight-Stitch: Ranged stab attack that pierces enemy lines. Hit enemies are stitched together. Rending Needle: Accurate melee stab attack that reduces the target's evasion and physical defense this turn. Painful Needle: Melee stab attack that reduces the target's accuracy and physical attack this turn. Sever Life: Remove stitches to make a powerful ranged cut attack on all stitched enemies with a chance to instant-kill.

Laundromancer - A melee/support class with damage and healing skills that purge buffs/debuffs to increase potency. Dry Out: Melee fire attack that purges a buff and a debuff. If a debuff was removed, increase damage. Wring Out: Melee bash attack that purges all buffs and debuffs. Increase damage for each debuff removed. Soak: Heal an ally and purge a buff and a debuff. If a buff was removed, increase healing and restore TP. Wash Away: Heal a line of allies and purge a buff and a debuff. Increase healing and restore TP to each ally that lost a buff. Good as New: Revive a dead ally and restore a large amount of HP. Spin Cycle: Ranged ice attack to all enemies that purges all buffs and debuffs. Increase damage to all enemies for each debuff removed.

Threadspinner - A ranged class that can strike and bind enemy lines with lashes of thread, or throw needles that hit bound enemies extra hard. Head/Arm/Leg Lash: Ranged cut attack to an enemy line. Binds head/arms/legs. Coiling Lash: Ranged cut attack. Binds head+arms+legs. Piercing Needle: Ranged stab attack that pierces enemy lines. Increased damage to bound enemies. Vicious Needle: Ranged stab attack. Increased damage for each bind on the target. Needle Rain: 8 ranged stab attacks to random enemies. Cannot hit the same enemy more than three times. Increased damage to bound enemies.

Dyesplasher - A ranged class wielding elements, buffs/debuffs, and ailments, giving it a versatile and flexible toolkit. Red/Blue/Yellow Splat: Ranged fire/ice/volt attack. Inflict panic/poison/paralysis. Red/Blue/Yellow Wave: Ranged fire/ice/volt attack to all enemies. Color Cloak: Increases elemental defense to all allies. Red Ruin/Blue Blues/Yellow Yelp: Reduce fire/ice/volt resistance and physical attack/elemental attack/bind+ailment rate to an enemy line for 3 turns. Rainbow Mixture: For 3 turns, increase an ally's elemental damage and ailment rate, and make fire, ice, or volt attacks become fire+ice+volt. (note: due to the way damage types work in Etrian Odyssey, more elements is always better)

Plushstuffer - A ranged/support class that uses builds up stuffing as it uses basic skills, then uses it for powerful plushie skills. Cotton Catapult: Ranged elementless attack. Get 1 stuffing. Unwind/Pluck Off: Remove a bind/ailment from an ally and restore a small amoung of HP. Get 1 stuffing. Tiger Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to make 5 ranged bash attacks against random enemies. Cannot hit the same enemy more than twice. Increased damage with more stuffing. Frog Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to heal all allies and remove binds/ailments. Increased healing with more stuffing. Unicorn Plushie: Spend all stuffing (max 3) to attempt to revive/heal all allies. Increased chance with more stuffing, 100% at 3.

Outfitter - A support class with a wide arsenal of buff skills, which can be spread to buff multiple allies or combined to use multiple on one ally. Can also steal enemy buffs and bind them with restrictive clothing. Daring Clothes: Unlocks the Phys/Elem Attack, Act Speed, and Bind+Ailment Rate clothing skills. Practical Clothes: Unlocks the Phys/Elem Defense, Endure Chance, and Bind+Ailment Res clothing skills. Comfortable Clothes: Unlocks the Regeneration, TP Discount, and Accuracy+Evasion clothing skills. Fashion Line: Use a clothing skill on an ally line. Mass Production: Use a clothing skill on all allies. Custom Fit: Combine two clothing skills into 1 buff on an ally, then double the duration of that buff. Bespoke Garb: Combine three clothing skills into 1 buff on an ally. Catwalk Showoff: This turn, buffed allies deal more damage. Flattery: Steal a buff from an enemy and give it to all allies. Mask/Mittens/Heels: Inflict head/arm/leg bind on an enemy.

Patchmender - A support class with healing and cure skills that apply patches to allies, boosting their stats or negating binds/ailments. Athletic Patch: Heal an ally and boost their phys/elem attack for 3 turns. Athletic Mending: Heal a line of allies and boost their phys/elem attack for 3 turns. Reinforced Patch: Heal an ally and boost their phys/elem defense for 3 turns. Aromatic Patch: Heal an ally and give them regeneration for 3 turns. Patched Tear: Revive a dead ally and give them a chance to endure death once in the next 3 turns. Mended Knot/Stain: Remove a bind/ailment from a line of allies and negate the next bind/ailment they would receive in the next 3 turns.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 11th. blaise - mirror sex, body worship.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: writing this was detrimental to my health. blaise is a man. a MAN. you’re having a terrible day, your boyfriend knows what you need to make it better.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, PIV, fingering, multiorgasm, teasing, begging, doggystyle, dirty talk, praise so much praise, body worship, soft dom blaise, pet names, the usual nasty shit you'll find this month.

"Yeah that's what I said...he didn't listen to me, though. Of course."

Parchment crinkled under the weight of your hand, quill scratching faintly as your boyfriends voice hummed in the background—an effortless drawl that filled the room like low music. You barely caught the words, caught up in the mechanical rhythm of  your writing—but that didn't stop him from droning on, stretched out like a relaxed cat on your bed—one leg bent, both hands tucked behind his head, his gaze lost somewhere in the ceiling's quiet expanse.

"And? What happened?" You asked, finally letting the quill drop, grimacing at the ink smudged across your fingers.

"Detention," he said, clearly amused, "cleaning rat barrels for a week."

You managed a smile, but it was small, fleeting—more like a shadow of the real thing. Blaise noticed, of course he did, but he let it linger undisturbed, as if waiting for the right moment to ask what was really wrong. His stories were always an offering, an attempt to pull you from the depths of a day that felt as heavy as the sky before a storm—which usually helped, but today, even he couldn't shake the weight entirely.

You rolled away from your desk, chair wheels creaking until you reached the mirror. There you were, reflected back at yourself—no makeup, hair half-tumbling from the ponytail you'd given up on hours ago, the lines under your eyes telling a story you didn't want to read. You sighed, lifting a hand to touch the flyaway strands, knowing it wouldn't help. You were a bloody disaster.

"What're you lookin' at, baby?" Blaise was behind you before you even realized it, his warmth filling the space behind your chair, his arms snaking around your waist with the same natural ease as breathing. "Did I tell you you look beautiful today?"

You exhaled as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes meeting yours in the glass—

"Don't lie, Blaise," you muttered, the exhaustion making your voice heavier than it should've been. "I look a mess."

"Not a lie," he whispered back, his lips so close you could almost taste the mint on his tongue. His hand lifted, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down the side of your face like it was something sacred, like you weren't just a tired girl with too many thoughts. "You're always beautiful...so, so beautiful."

The heat from his words bloomed in your chest, a slow burn, even as the weight of the day pressed heavier. It felt as though the reflection was mocking you—this version of yourself you could barely recognize, worn down by everything that had gone wrong.

"I can tell when something's bothering you," he pressed on, his voice drawing you back, patient and unhurried. His fingers made soft circles on your stomach, waiting, coaxing. "Wanna tell me?"

"Nothing's bothering me...I just.." you shook your head, the words coming out on a breath, too small to carry the weight of what you meant. "I just had a bloody terrible day."

He hummed, thumb grazing your skin. "How terrible?"

"The kind that makes you feel like the universe is against you," you whispered, gaze falling, unable to look at him while your voice cracked. "I'm sorry—I know you wanted to go out tonight, but I just—"

"Shh—hey, don't do that," he interrupted, his fingers tilting your chin, forcing your eyes back to his in the mirror. "I don't care about going out. I care about you. We don't need to be anywhere else. I've got everything I need right here, baby. Okay?"

Merlin—your heart clenched, the ache reminding you just how easy it was to fall in love with him—and how you managed to do so, all over again, every single day. Blaise always had this way of making you feel like the center of the world, even on days when you felt like you were disappearing from it.

A small, trembling smile ghosted across your lips, and you nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah?" He nudged your chin gently, brushing more stray hair from your face—he never once took his fucking eyes off of you. "You're so fucking beautiful, babygirl...how are you all mine..."

A sigh escaped your lips as his fingers moved to massage your shoulders, his lips finding their way back to the curve of your neck, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your skin. The tension in your body began to melt, replaced by something warmer, softer.

"Messy hair, no makeup...you're a fucking dream," he whispered. "Every morning I wake up...and I still can't believe..." his hands trailed down your arms, a slow blaze of fire, grazing over your belly before they curved up your chest. "...that all of this...is all for me..."

Your head tipped back, a soft whimper slipping from your lips as he pressed himself closer. One of his hands slid back up, fingers curling around the base of your throat, his thumb stroking the side of your neck. He groaned softly against your temple, other hand still pawing at your chest.

"Look at you," he rasped as his eyes met yours again in the mirror. You could feel his gaze tracing the outline of his hand wrapped around your throat. "Tell me you know you're beautiful."

Your heart was racing, breaths coming in shallow bursts as the intensity of his touch, his words, filled the room. He was crowding over you, pressed against the back of your chair, his hands insistent but not frantic, like he had all the time in the world—

"I know," you whispered. "You tell me every day..."

He hummed, the sound vibrating in his throat. "Mhm…and I'll keep telling you…because I don't think you get it yet...just how truly beautiful you are…”

Your lashes fluttered, eyes heavy beneath the weight of his gaze as his fingers moved lower, the buttons of your shirt parting effortlessly, baring the delicate lace underneath.

His jaw clenched, hunger flickering behind his eyes, his touch roughening with it. “…and just how lucky I am... to get to touch you like this."

Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your back arched, baring yourself to him with a shivering sigh. His hand around your throat tightened, not too much, just enough to remind you he held you, that in this moment —this skin—belonged to him.

His other hand moved across your chest, teasing your nipples through the lacy fabric, kneading, coaxing your heart to race under his palm.

"I'm a better man because of you," he whispered, lips ghosting over the pulse at your neck. “...because you make me want to be."

Your whimper came unbidden, warmth flooding your veins as his eyes never left yours—devouring you through the glass. This wasn't just about touch. It was something Blaise always made sure you felt in this relationship, the thing tethered between you—the fulfilment of a need to be seen and a need to be known.

"Look at you." His lips tilted in a breathy smile, dripping with reverence, with something sacred as his hand roved over your chest, taking his time. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."

Both big hands fell to massage your tits now and a small, broken sound escaped you—helpless against the onslaught, your body betraying your efforts at control. You closed your eyes, biting your lip to stem the flood, but it was useless. Blaise, like this, was unrelenting, determined to make you remember this moment, every whisper, every touch. His voice was an echo you'd hear in your dreams.

"Blaise..." his name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Gods.”

"Open those pretty eyes for me, babygirl..." he purred  as his teeth grazed the curve of your neck. You obeyed with a shiver—your reflection pure chaos — a mess of need and want, heat pooling low in your belly, an ache between your legs you couldn't ignore. Blaise hummed. "I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what I see."

His hands slid lower, skimming the curve of your hips and settling on your thighs. You watched as he moved with deliberation, savouring the way your skin shivered beneath his touch. He shifted your legs wider, pushing the fabric of your skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you weren't sure who was falling apart faster—him or you.

"Fuck," you moaned, barely holding onto the sound, feeling it slip past your lips like a breath. "Blaise.."

With a satisfied smile, his eyes flicked to yours and you noted the way his breathing shallowed—admired the way his fingers slipped along the insides of your thighs, tracing the soft skin without haste. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you bit down on your lip, fighting to keep your eyes open.

A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed your skirt up further, exposing your underwear in the reflection.

"That's my girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration. "These thighs...mm, fuck...so soft.."

His fingers dragged back down, agonizingly slow, tracing your thighs again.

You shuddered. You knew just how needy you sounded but gods—"Blaise, please..."

Blaise knew too, and of course he just chuckled, lips grazing the curve of your shoulder, his teeth catching on the fabric there. The nip was gentle at first, but just enough to make you gasp, your hips jerking reflexively—and you watched his eyes flash, lashes fluttering—

"Fuck...these hips," now he was growling, his nails biting into your skin. "The way you roll them...torture, pure torture... just to make me give you what you want..."

Your breath hitched again. You were a squirming mess, now—each fucking word a slow burn that licked at every nerve.

"Is that so bad?" You whispered, though the words barely left your mouth before a soft moan interrupted them. "Making you…give me what I want...?"

His laugh was rougher this time, his breath searing hot against your ear. One hand moved again, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear—and you realized you were holding your fucking breath—meeting his gaze in the mirror, wide and wanting, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

"Not so bad...when I want to give it to you..." his fingers danced over your clothed cunt—light, taunting, threatening to give you everything you craved but holding just shy of it. Your hips rolled again, involuntarily. "But absolutely disastrous," his fingers traced higher, the ache of wanting made your pulse thunder. "...when I'm trying to make you wait."

You whimpered, snuffing a groan in your throat, and he smiled—watching the effect, his jaw falling open when he grazed over your clit through the fabric and you moaned loud—shameless.

"Gods—Blaise, please—" you were so fucking desperate now. Heat scorching your skin. Eyes squeezed shut. He was going to kill you, you were sure of it. “No more teasing—“

"Eyes open." He husked, bringing one hand back up to cup your jaw. "You close them and I'll stop. Keep being good for me, baby..."

You whinged—meeting his dark eyes in the mirror, lust blown pupils swallowing his irises. You watched yourself—his arms curled around you, strong and firm—long, slender fingers finally, fucking finally, giving you what you want—slipping under your underwear, fingertips kissing the sensitive lips of your throbbing cunt.

"Good girl...so good for me..." he muttered, slicking a single digit between your folds, grazing your clit. That did it—blinded with relief, you whinged, moaning deep in your chest. "Oh fuck, you're so wet...you need this, don't you, baby..."

"Yes—Gods—" you held his eyes in the mirror, hips jerking toward his touch. "Need it...need you..."

"So sensitive f'me..." he whispered in your ear, brushing the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. He kissed at your jaw. "I'll never get tired of hearing you say that...that you need me..."

"Fuck—I do—always—" the words bled out, unfiltered. "Always need you."

Blaise shuddered, you could feel his hips rocking gently against the back of the chair as his fingers found your clit, indefinitely this time, and began drawing tight, frantic circles over it. Your back crested, your head falling back just slightly before you remembered what he said and returned your gaze to his in the mirror—he was watching you, body crowding yours like he was preparing a meal—and you spread your legs wider, noting the entire mess he'd made of you in minutes.

"Beautiful," he cooed, jaw tensing as you gripped his wrist—one hand shifting to grope your chest. "Messy girl...m'dying to get inside you..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Blaise—baby—please..."

Wetness soaked your thighs—coated his fingers as he dipped lower and pushed two inside you, crooking them deep. The reaction was involuntary—you cried out, ground your hips into his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, wanting—no, needing more. He groaned, squeezing your breast harder than you're sure he'd intended—teeth sinking into your shoulder in a futile attempt to compose himself.

"Fucking hell—that's it, baby—" his thumb twirled your clit, fingers driving deep—bliss burned your eyes, and you moaned. "Soaked and still so fucking tight...fuck.."

"M'gonna—I need you—" you were babbling, lost in sensation, coherent thoughts banished to the perimeters of your mind. "Inside—pleasepleaseplease—need you—"

"Cum first," his hand on your breast slipped up, tangling through your hair and nudging your face toward his—his lips found yours, soft and tender. "Wanna' make you feel good..."

Pleasure flooded you, muscles collapsing as you succumbed to it—Blaise kissed you again, holding you there, tongue delving into your mouth while he rubbed your swollen nub faster, pumped his fingers deeper.

"I...oh, Gods—already feel s'good..." you moaned into him, and he jerked you harder to his body, tongue massaging yours while his plush lips worked over your mouth. "Mm—fuck—s'good—"

He groaned. "Mhm—cum for me."

And then you did—every nerve in your body ignited at once. The obscene, wet sounds of him pumping his fingers into you filled the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic pulse in your ears. His mouth smothered the desperate cries of pleasure that fought to break free as your body convulsed, writhing against him. Your hips bucked, helplessly seeking more, fingers digging into his wrist like anchors as your entire world spun wildly out of control. He was both your rock and your undoing—keeping you tethered to earth while hurling you into the stars.

It felt like you were suspended in that ecstasy forever, the air leaving your lungs in shattered gasps, until, at last, your breathing found its rhythm again. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, his own breath shaky, eyes dark with hunger. He brought his slick-coated fingers to your lips, pressing them past, and you groaned as you took him in, suckling greedily.

"You like that?" His voice was a low rumble, vibrating against your spine. You moaned in response, your tongue swirling around his digits, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of yourself. His other hand moved, urgently, his belt coming undone and echoing through the room as he freed himself, groaning, "Fuck."

Blaise had lost his composure completely—you didn't need to look at him to know it. In an instant, you were on your feet, his hands pulling you up as he kicked your chair out of the way, rolling into the wall with a thud. You turned your head to look at it but his lips crashed into yours, both hands cradling your face as he sank to his knees, dragging you down with him. The hardwood floor beneath you was cold, but his touch—his touch was a wildfire, scorching every inch of your skin, setting your blood to boil.

You moved instinctively and gasped as your fingers found him, warm and hard in your palm, twitching at your touch. He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as you stroked him, kneeling together on the floor, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. The moment stretched, unbearably tense, until with a swift motion, he spun you around, turning you to face the mirror.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, sliding down your thighs, grazing the curve of your waist—pulling your skirt higher as he met your eyes over your shoulder in the reflection—

"Look at yourself," his fingers tightened on your hips, guiding you back against him, his length slicking between your thighs, grazing against your heat. "See what you do to me."

You gasped, melting into him, tightening your thighs around his shaft, fighting to keep your eyes on his in the mirror. Blaise exhaled, cranking your throat to the side and snatching a breast before biting the meat of your shoulder, cock pulsing when you whinged in delighted pain.

"Blaise—fuck—please..." your cunt clenched with anticipation, heat at your cheeks as you watched yourself in the mirror, desperately trying to tip your hips so he'd slide in. "Please, fuck me—"

Your voice was ruined. Music to his ears. Blaise could never deny that begging.

"Shit, baby..." he pressed in, leaning you forward until you were resting on your elbows in front of the mirror—seething as his girth stretched you open—splitting you wide in a way that made your eyes roll. He pulsed at your entrance, taking his time, letting you bask in the drag of your walls along his swollen length. In his reflection, his were lips parted, chest working with broken breath. "So goddamn tight..."

"Fuck," you moaned, unbridled, his hands bruising your hips as he picked up the pace. "Yes—mm—Gods, yes—"

The power of his thrusts stole your breath, quaked your bones, your cries of pleasure hiccuped by the rapid strokes of his hips. Blaise was the most patient man you'd ever met, until he wasn't. He groaned, his eyes trained on your ass, skin smacking skin with loud slaps—you were captivated, unable to think or speak or do anything other than watch—fire stoked by the sheer eroticism of watching him fuck your pussy. A hard, vicious plunge—you shrieked, and you could see him smirk to himself before gracing your ass with a soft smack, piercing your cervix.

"Sexy little thing. All fucking mine." He wound your hair in his fist, popping your neck back to hunch over you. "You like that, hm? Watching yourself get fucked?"

You whimpered, neck aching with the force of his grip, nails digging into your palms as he drilled you. The switch in his demeanour was dizzying. His dick was hollowing you out, rending you wide—you could hardly focus on his words—

"Yes!" You managed. "Fuck—yes—"

He groaned, fucking faster—his gaze ravaged you, wandering over every inch of your reflection before stopping at your jiggling chest. His hand slipped down from your hair to grasp a breast—squeezing and kneading the soft flesh in his huge palm, his other hand snaking down around your thigh to swirl over your clit, and you choked—a noise wrenched from your lungs far louder than you'd have liked.

"Fuck—fuck—" his hips moved erratically. He was getting close. So were you. "Tight—squeeze me s'good—"

You whinged. He swirled his fingers faster. "Blaise—m'gonna—cum—"

It descended upon you—the promise of oblivion—as you found one breath, another breath, and then found yourself in the mirror, skin gleaming, expression wrought with pleasure, entire body shaking with the pistoning of your boyfriends hips.

His eyes were still on yours, reverence inside them, worship.

He grunted. "Yes—fuck, cum on my cock, baby—let me feel you—"

It was a command that shattered all thought, a primal cry of ecstasy that ripped through you, overtaking every nerve, every vein, every muscle in your body. Your limbs trembled, thighs shaking as the pleasure coursed through you, molten, burning under your skin. You were less than halfway cognizant of what was leaving your mouth—barely picking up on your boyfriends groans and moans in your ear as you squeezed and milked his cock through your climax, fucking you deep until he couldn't take it anymore and erupted as well—pouring his cum into you, rolling his hips until he was empty.

Swallowing hard, you collapsed onto the floor, your chest heaving as he pulled out, leaving you breathless and trembling. His hands, still warm from the heat of your skin, gently held your arm as he sank down beside you. Without a word, he tugged you against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a calming rhythm against your back. His fingers threaded softly through your hair, untangling the remnants of tension as the two of you lay there, catching your breath.

After a few moments, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, the touch so tender it made you melt all over again. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving your lips, all the stress that had plagued you earlier dissipating into nothing.

"Maybe I should have bad days more often." You smiled through an exhale.

"If this is what it takes to fix them," he murmured with a smirk, his voice deep and gravelly from exertion, "then I'm more than willing to be your remedy, anytime."

You hummed, a huff of a laugh slipping out as you traced lazy shapes on his chest—inhaling his scent with each breath. You loved this man. Loved that he never failed to make you feel so goddamn beautiful, so special, so needed.

"Seriously though," you whispered after a while, your cheek pressed to his chest, "thank you. For this. For knowing exactly what I needed."

His fingers stilled in your hair, a quiet hum of understanding in his throat.

"I always know what you need, baby," he said, his voice soft, filled with something more than just desire, something warmer. "And I'll always be here to give it to you."

[its-avalon-08]

omg I love the protective Daniel post you just did, I feel like max would be so protective too, could I please request max and rival driver reader who always bicker but have undeniable tension..and after a race they’re celebrating at the club and mad max comes out seeing a really creepy guy hitting on her and manhandling her across the dance floor. Reader is a bit shaken up cause she hasn’t had things like that happen in a while since becoming more famous and the creepy guy was a lot bigger than her

and max drives her home and comforts her - I feel a hug from his big strong arms would fix all my problems lolz, maybe leading to some spice?? Thank you!!

hi bubs! im sorry im not super gr8 at writing spice so i didnt include any, myabe in the future! so sorry but hope u enjoy

hands. off. (mv1)

✦ pairing - max verstappen x female!driver!reader

✦ genre - enemies to lovers, angst, creepy guy, confessions, happy ending

The tension was palpable in the team garage as Max and Y/N prepared for the race. Mechanics bustled around, making final adjustments to the cars, while the two drivers stood on opposite sides, glaring at each other.

"You know, Max, just because you have a world championship doesn't mean you're invincible," Y/N said, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she adjusted her gloves.

Max smirked, not looking up from his car. "And just because you're fast doesn't mean you're good enough to beat me. You should focus on keeping up."

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes flashing with anger. "Maybe if you stopped acting like you're the king of the track, you'd see that I'm right on your tail. You're not as untouchable as you think."

Max finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a challenging look. "I'll believe it when I see it, Y/N. Until then, you're just another driver trying to take my spot."

She crossed her arms, standing her ground. "You better watch out, Max. One mistake, and I'll be there to overtake you. And believe me, it'll happen sooner than you think. Until then fuck off."

Max's eyes narrowed. "Bring it on. Just don't cry when you can't handle the pressure."

Their team principal stepped in, sensing the rising tension. "Alright, you two, save it for the track. We need both of you focused if we're going to win today."

Max and Y/N exchanged one last glare before turning their attention back to their cars, the hostility between them lingering in the air.

post race

The race had been fierce, with Max narrowly edging out Y/N for the win. As they walked back to the garage, Y/N's frustration boiled over. She threw her helmet down in exasperation, drawing Max's attention.

"Nice job blocking me out there, Max. Real fucking classy," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger.

Max shrugged, a smug smile playing on his lips. "It's called defending my position. Maybe you should learn how to do it."

Y/N stepped closer, her fists clenched. "Or maybe you should learn to win without playing dirty."

Max's smile faded, replaced by a cold stare. "I play to win, Y/N. If you can't handle that, maybe you're in the wrong sport."

Y/N's heart raced, not just from anger but from the proximity. She could feel the heat radiating off him, their faces inches apart. "Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with proving you're the best, you'd realize you don't have to be such an asshole all the time."

Max leaned in, his breath hot on her face. "And maybe if you stopped trying to compete with me, you'd see that I actually respect you."

Y/N's eyes widened, the air between them crackling with tension. "Respect? You have a funny way of showing it, Max."

Max's gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her eyes again. "It's called tough love sweetheart. You wouldn't want it any other way."

She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't need your respect."

Max's hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he held back. "Maybe not. But you have it, whether you like it or not."

The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, making her head spin. For a moment, all the anger and frustration seemed to morph into something else, something neither of them was ready to admit.

"Why do you always have to make everything so complicated?" Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's voice softened, the hostility fading. "Maybe because I don't know how else to deal with you. You're... different."

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "Different how?"

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, the walls between them seemed to crumble. "Different in a way that scares me. And I don't scare easily."

The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard, and she felt a surge of emotion she couldn't quite name. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, their bodies almost touching.

"Max..." she began, her voice trembling.

Before she could say anything more, Max leaned in, his forehead almost resting against hers. "Y/N, I..."

The moment was electric, the world around them fading away. For that brief second, all the rivalry, the anger, and the hostility melted into something raw and undeniable. But just as quickly, Max pulled back, the moment shattered and his rough facade was back up.

"We should get back to the team," he said, his voice hoarse.

Y/N nodded, her heart still racing. "Yeah. We should."

As they walked back to the garage, the tension between them was stronger than ever, but now it was laced with something more—something neither of them could ignore.

time skip

The club was alive with music and dancing, the perfect place to celebrate after a hard-fought race. Y/N tried to shake off the lingering tension from her earlier confrontation with Max, letting the music take over as she moved with her friends. But even in the crowded club, she could feel his eyes on her, a constant presence that sent shivers down her spine.

Max sat at the bar, nursing a drink, but his attention was entirely on Y/N. She danced with an easy grace, her movements drawing the eyes of everyone around her, but Max's gaze was different—intense, focused, and filled with the unresolved tension from their earlier confrontation.

As she danced, Y/N's eyes found Max's across the room. The connection was electric, the tension between them palpable. She locked eyes with him, her movements becoming more deliberate, more provocative, as if she was challenging him, daring him to react.

Max's grip tightened on his glass, his heart racing. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, locked in a silent, charged exchange. He wanted to go to her, to close the distance between them, but something held him back.

Suddenly, a large man approached Y/N on the dance floor, his intentions clear. He moved too close, his hands reaching out to touch her. Y/N tried to step away, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards him with a force that made her stumble.

"What the fuck? Let go!" Y/N shouted, trying to free herself.

The man's grip tightened, his voice slurred with alcohol. "Come on, baby, don't be like that. Let's have some fun."

Panic flashed in Y/N's eyes. She was used to handling herself, but this man was larger and stronger, and the situation was spiraling out of control. She looked around for help, her gaze finally landing on Max.

Max's vision turned red as he saw the fear in Y/N's eyes. He pushed his way through the crowd, his protective instincts and anger flaring into his "Mad Max" persona.

"Get your hands off her," Max growled, his voice low and dangerous.

The man looked at Max, clearly unimpressed. "Who the hell are you?"

Max stepped closer, his glare icy. "I'm the fucking guy who's going to make sure you never touch her again. Now, let go."

The man sneered, but Max's cold fury was unmistakable. He released Y/N, but not before giving her a rough shove. She stumbled back, and Max caught her, pulling her close to him.

"You okay?" Max asked, his voice softening as he looked down at her.

Y/N nodded, but her eyes were wide, and she was clearly shaken. "Yeah, just... let's get out of here."

The man, not ready to back down, took a step towards them. "You think you can just walk away?"

Max turned back to him, his expression darkening. "I warned you."

Without another word, Max launched himself at the man, delivering a hard punch to his jaw. The man staggered back, and Max followed up with another punch, knocking him to the ground.

"Stay the fuck down," Max spat, his voice filled with anger.

The bouncers quickly moved in, grabbing the man and dragging him away. Max turned back to Y/N, his expression softening once again.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's get out of here."

The ride home was silent except for Y/N’s quiet sniffles. She stared out the window, her hands still trembling. The events of the night played over and over in her mind, and she couldn't shake the fear that had gripped her. She let out a silent sob, tears streaming down her face.

Max glanced over, his heart aching at the sight of her distress. Without saying a word, he reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Y/N looked at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She squeezed his hand back, drawing strength from his presence.

They drove in silence for a while longer before Max finally spoke. "You don't have to be scared anymore, Y/N. I'm here. I'll always be here."

Y/N nodded, unable to find her voice. The tears kept coming, and she leaned over, resting her head on Max's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close as she sobbed into his shirt.

When they arrived at her apartment, Max turned off the engine and gently lifted her out of the car. She clung to him, too exhausted and shaken to protest. Max carried her inside, navigating the familiar path to her bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and sat beside her, brushing a stray hair from her face.

"Max," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was so scared."

Max's heart clenched. "I know. But you're safe now. That guy will never touch you again. I promise."

Y/N looked into his eyes, searching for the strength she always saw there. "Why are you always there for me? Even when we fight, even when we're at each other's throats, you're always there."

Max took a deep breath, his gaze intense. He wordlessly pulled her into a warm, protective hug. His strong arms enveloped her, pulling her close against his chest.

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, her voice a barely audible whisper. "I've dreamed about this."

Max’s heart skipped a beat. He held her tighter, his own emotions surfacing. "You’ve dreamed about this?"

She nodded, her voice muffled. "About being held like this… safe and cared for. I didn’t think it would ever actually happen."

Max tilted her chin up gently, looking into her eyes with a serious expression. "Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes filled with vulnerability. "What is it, Max?"

Max took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly. "I’ve been trying so hard to deny it, but I can’t anymore. I care about you more than I ever wanted to admit. The rivalry, the arguments—they’ve been a cover for what I really feel."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and relief washing over her. "Max, I’ve felt the same way. I’ve been pushing you away because I was scared of these feelings. I didn’t want to admit how much you mean to me."

Max’s fingers brushed a tear from her cheek. "I’ve been so caught up in the competition and the fights that I didn’t realize I was falling for you. But now, seeing you like this, I can’t ignore it any longer."

Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. "It’s like everything else fades away when I’m with you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before."

Max’s gaze was intense, filled with affection. "You mean everything to me, Y/N. I don’t just want to win races with you; I want to be with you. I want to be the one who’s always there for you."

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. "I want that too, Max. I want us to be more than just rivals. I want us to be together, through everything."

Max’s smile was tender as he leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Then let’s make it real. Let’s be together."

Y/N nodded, her voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. I want that more than anything."

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss filled with all the emotions they had been holding back—passion, relief, and a deep, unspoken love. When they finally pulled away, their eyes locked, both of them knowing that their feelings were finally out in the open.

Max brushed a strand of hair from her face, his smile full of promise. "We have a lot to figure out, but we’ll do it together. I’m in this for the long haul."

Y/N nodded, her heart full. "Together. Always."

Max wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close as they lay down together, both of them finally at peace with the love they had discovered.

[matchingbatbites]

Steve proposes to Eddie during DND.

He's played about a dozen times since the Vecna ordeal three years ago, just one-off stories with no real consequences, and while it took him a little bit to get a feel for the game, he's finally reached a point where he doesn't feel totally out of place.

It helps that Eddie absolutely lights up every time Steve agrees to play, that his boyfriend tends to go a little easier on the rest of the table because they all help Steve half-fumble through the mechanics. It's worth it when Eddie beams at him for figuring something out first, for suggesting a dumb play that has the table screaming when it works.

It's the summer after the kids' senior year, and when Eddie offers to run an all-day one shot to celebrate their graduation, Steve instantly starts planning. He talks to Robin, who absolutely gushes over his idea, and along with Dustin they plan it all out.

He learns the premise of the one-shot from Eddie - there's a big bad who's been taking people from the kingdom, and the king is finally forced to do something when his own son, the prince, is also taken - and Dustin helps him make a character, a fighter who is the personal guard of the prince, whose goal is to find and bring him back safely.

Eddie seems pleased with the character when Steve explains it to him, even more so when Steve suggests the idea that they've fallen for each other and have been lovers in secret. "You're such a romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says before kissing him, and Steve knows it’s a tease and a compliment, knows that Eddie loves how soft he can get over things like that.

The game happens about two weeks later, and Eddie wasn’t joking when he called it an all-day affair.

They get started at about ten that morning, Steve and Eddie, their four boys, and Erica all crowded around the little dining table in Steve and Eddie's little apartment, with Robin, El, and Max entertaining themselves in the adjacent living room.

At Eddie’s insistence, they take a break every couple of hours so everyone can get up and stretch and use the toilet, with slightly longer breaks for lunch and dinner (sandwiches and pizza, respectively, both provided by Steve and Eddie).

The big bad is defeated at around nine that night, and everyone is elated as Eddie takes them through the aftermath, letting each player character have a short moment to reunite with their stolen friends and loved ones.

Robin and the girls have moved to sit on the nearby kitchen counter to listen, partly because El always enjoys these soft moments in the story, and partly because Robin knows what’s going to happen soon.

Steve stays quiet, letting the others have their moment as he fights down the sudden anxiety that sparks through him, knowing what he’s about to do. He looks up when Eddie says his name, takes a steadying breath, and asks "Do I see the prince?"

Eddie nods, says "You do."

"I go over to him."

"He sees you approaching and he rushes to you, meeting you halfway. As soon as you're close enough, he throws his arms around you and says 'I knew you would save me, darling.'"

Steve smiles. "I say, 'I always will, my love' and then I kiss him."

The teens hoot and holler a little as Eddie grins. "He kisses you back, and for a moment it's like everything else fades to the background. All that matters is him, back where he belongs, safe in your arms."

Steve nods, and before he loses his nerve asks "Can I do something?"

Eddie quirks a brow, curious. "Of course,” he says, and Steve takes a breath to steady himself.

"I take his hand, and then I drop to one knee."

A couple of the teens give little 'ooh's as Eddie looks at him, clearly a little surprised, and Steve continues before he can say anything.

"Three years ago, I took my place by your side as your personal guard. I swore to care for you, to protect you from anything that would want to hurt you, and somewhere along the way, we fell in love."

Steve swallows, knows he's blurring the line of character and person as he speaks, staring at Eddie across the table.

"The last three years have been everything to me. Any time I'm not with you, you're the only thing I can think about, and every day spent with you is a fucking gift, because I know just how close I came to losing you."

The sudden urge to touch Eddie becomes overwhelming and he stands, watches Eddie's shocked face as he rounds the table and drops to a knee in front of his lover. Eddie's eyes are wide and he gives a soft "Steve?" as Steve takes a slender hand in his own, remembers the words he had practiced over and over with Dustin.

"I don't want to be just a fighter anymore. I want to be a paladin, set on a righteous path, and if you'll let me, I want to make an Oath of Devotion. Not to any god or angel, but to you, the love of my life."

Steve pulls the ring from his pocket and offers it to Eddie. It's very much not traditional, and at first glance seems to be just another chunky ring that blends in with Eddie's current selection. But Steve had to get it, the shield molded onto the band and the new 'beloved' engraved on the inside repeating what Steve always says, I'll protect you, I love you.

Eddie is in tears as Steve stares him down, as he gently asks "Eddie Munson, will you marry me?"

For just a second, Eddie is completely still, save for his shaky breathing. Steve doesn't get scared, he knows that sometimes it takes Eddie a second to register things when he's overwhelmed. He waits it out, and after a few seconds Eddie blinks rapidly before jerking forward, dropping to his knees as he throws his arms around Steve. "Fuck yes! Of course I will!"

Cheers erupt through the room, and a flash goes off when they meet in a kiss. Eddie looks over to see Robin with a camera in her hand and tears streaming down her face. “Don’t mind me,” she says, a bit choked up even as she beams at them, and Eddie’s head whips back to Steve.

“You planned this!” he yells, unable to stop his own tears from falling, and Steve laughs. “Of course I did!” is his reply as he takes Eddie’s hand back so he can slide the ring onto it, and he ignores the second flash from where Robin sits.

“Wanted it to be perfect,” Steve says softly, stroking his thumb over the ring, now at its new home on Eddie’s finger. “Wanted you to know how much you mean to me, and I figured something nerdy would hit all the right buttons.”

“I helped with the nerd stuff!” Dustin calls from his seat, and Eddie laughs wetly as he scrubs at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I should have known something was up with you, Henderson. You’ve been bouncing off the walls for weeks.”

Steve stands up from the floor before helping Eddie up, and they both grunt as Dustin practically slams into them for a hug, quickly followed by a more reserved El. They hug each of the kids in turn and accept their congratulations, and after a few minutes Eddie is put together enough to actually finish out the one-shot.

Later that night as they're getting ready for bed, Eddie presses up behind Steve, one hand sliding to rest on his stomach and the other opening in front of them, revealing a simple, gold band.

"You beat me to it, you dick," he says with so much tenderness, and Steve laughs as he takes the ring.

"You can still do your proposal, if you want," Steve replies, heart swelling as he looks over the band, sees the little 'sweetheart' engraved on the inside.

"Nah, there's no way I can top what you did for me."

"I dunno, you normally top me pretty well," Steve teases, just to hear Eddie's delighted little cackle.

He turns and hands the ring back to Eddie, asks "Put it on me?" and Eddie smiles. He takes the ring and slides it onto Steve's finger, his thumb brushing over shiny metal, and Steve feels so fucking happy as they meet in the middle for a kiss.

[strwbryien]

｢ ᝰ.ᐟ entry 05: ARE YOU BLUSHING? ⭑.ᐟ ｣

“what's wrong with you, man?” heizou sat beside him and slung an arm around scaramouche’s shoulder. “you messaged me out of nowhere. you good?” he asked.

“tch, it’s nothing serious. i just don’t have anyone to talk to about this, and unfortunately for me, you’re the only one who will understand,” the indigo-haired one scowled.

“it’s about [name], isn’t it?” he smirked. he had a hunch about what scaramouche would talk about, and he was 99.9% sure that it was about [name].

“WHA- HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT?!” he shouted. caught red-handed, huh? heizou isn’t called the “best detective of teyvat university” for nothing.

“HAH, i knew it! what about her, hmm? did you finally reveal yourself to her?” heizou wiggled his brows.

“as if! i-it’s more about kumi, actually.”

“did you just fucking stutter? what the heck?”

“SHUT UP!”

“me and kumi are having a collab stream,” he muttered.

“what? i didn’t quite get that,” heizou leaned closer to the male.

“i said we’re having a collab stream, moron,” he spat.

“SERIOUSLY?! that’s great, ma— WAIT, ARE YOU BLUSHING RIGHT NOW?!”

“GET OUT OF MY FACE, SHIKANOIN HEIZOU!”

“HAHAHA, YOU REALLY ARE BLUSHING! THIS IS AMAZING!”

“say goodbye to your family and friends because you're not getting out of this dorm alive.”

“SCARA WAIT-”

prev | masterlist | next

synopsis:

IN WHICH—you, although faceless, are a very famous streamer known as KUMI. you were streaming as usual, playing games and interacting with fans. but when you're about to exit the stream, you accidentally pressed the wrong button that led to you opening your cam and showing your whole face to your audience. this wasn't supposed to happen, no ! so you panicked and quickly ended the stream. numerous screenshots circulated on twitter, which broke both the fans and the internet. this reached a certain someone, SCARAMOUCHE, your rival in streaming. when the said boy saw the trending photo, he almost fell off his gaming chair. because—lo and behold! KUMI was actually [name]?! now who is this [name] in his life, if you may ask? she's the girl that scaramouche has been admiring from afar in real life! quite shocking, right? have i told you that he’s also been sending you anonymous love letters? oh well...

notes ᝰ.ᐟ

— i'll explain the 2-play game mechanics in the next update! — and have you guys noticed that i'm totally (not) in love with childe... so i've been including him whenever i can... haha.... — also, 200 followers is insane, I LOVE YOU GUYS SM, THANK YOU!!! 🩷

ꪆৎ taglist

@imnotyizhuo @kazufavor @najaemism @simonisferal @lovelypadisarah @eternallykira-143 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @yuminako @035814 @squigglewigglewoo @lxkeeeee @blvdmrcnry @wth121 @lloovvv @3lectraheart @lovemiyae @danhenglovebot @heusalettle @automaticpatroltragedy @kyon-cherri @lalalaloveallmydays @musings-of-miss-j @ilxandra @lazy-sanns @vixialuvs @bananasquash @kochothehoe @lily-lmao @shutingstar @sketcheeee @minhosprettywife @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @kinanahana @featuredtofu @tamikahoshiko @jayzioxx @kleeboomed @saechiro @shyentsmissingink @poemzcheng @rifran @projectsfantasy @yejiswifex @peachystea @vi0let-writes @sicuit @hee-jinn @6blxe @viannasthings @trulyylee

[augustjustice]

Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together), 2/2

AO3

Part 1

"Somebody had better be on fire," Steve says, jabbing a warning finger in the direction of four slack-jawed faces. 

"You weren't answering your walkie," Dustin replies mechanically. He holds up his own in explanation, the motion jerky, as though he's operating on autopilot. "Either of you."

"Yeah, well," Steve swings out an arm dramatically, encompassing the both of them. "We're fine. You can see that we're fine.” 

Eddie wiggles his fingers at them as if to demonstrate, the wave distressingly similar to the one Steve uses when he’s just been caught and is trying to look disarming and harmless.

“So can you go now?"

“Yeah,” Eddie darts a look over to Steve, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Harrington and I have got some…business we’re looking to finish up here.”

Max can’t manage to hold back her snort, though it doesn’t really look like she was trying all that hard.

“Oh, yeah, whatever you two have been up to looked super professional a couple minutes ago,” she comments wryly.

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Were you guys seriously spying on us? You have got to be shitting me. I expected better from…" his gaze grazes over the teens standing there one-by-one, seemingly dismissing each of them in turn before finally landing on– "Lucas! I expected better from you of all people, Sinclair. Thought you knew how to mind your business, unlike the rest of these nosy little menaces."

"Hey!" Mike and Dustin protest simultaneously.

Max, for her part, looks completely unaffected, and furthermore not even a little guilty.

Lucas points to her.

"Where my lady goes, I too must follow."

"Aww, that's sweet," Eddie comments, completely sincere as he looks between the two of them. Then he reaches over and smacks Steve lightly on the shoulder. "How come you don't ever say romantic shit like that to me, Harrington?"

Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're not helping."

"Wasn't trying to, sunshine," Eddie's smile remains, wide and mischievous. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"I dove through a portal to the Upside Down for you!"

"That was just you and your big damn hero shtick, don't act like that was about me. Besides, I'm the one who literally followed you into hell."

Steve's expression suddenly takes on a sly, triumphant edge.

"So you admit it, then. It was romantic when you did it!"

"No no no, I didn’t say that. I confess to nothing, good sir!"

Their banter is only disrupted by Mike’s spluttering. 

“You–you and Steve?!” he squeaks, seeming no less blindsided than he had been when he suspected it was Nancy in the car. “It’s weird enough having to watch you guys be friends, but–”

"Oh, we're real friendly now," Eddie drawls, shooting Steve a wink and a dimpled grin. "Isn't that right, Harrington?"

"Shut up," Steve complains, giving Eddie's shoulder a shove, but everyone present can see the way he ducks his head, a smile twitching helplessly at the corner of his mouth.

As a collective, the party–even Mike–shoot each other a series of pointed looks, communicating telepathically the way close friends sometimes do. They've all seen Steve in date mode more times than they care to count, but have they ever seen him look so…flustered?

And as some of the initial shell shock starts to wear off, Dustin’s expression begins to morph into something almost…smug.

"I would just like to point out…" he says in typical, sanctimonious fashion, "that I told you both you’d really get along if you just got to know each other."

Max snorts again.

"What, by sticking their tongues down each other's throats?"

The look on her face holds nothing but amusement, which is a relief, though Steve's not sure how he feels about the mischievous glee that accompanies it.

"No!" Dustin protests, embarrassment tinging his face. "Not that I care about that, just–I'm just saying I told you so!"

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, Dusty Buns,” Eddie sing-songs.

“Right?!” Steve cuts a look across to Eddie. “The mouth on this kid, I swear. How’d he turn out to be such a little smart ass?”

The way Eddie’s lips twitch suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “Our terrible influence, probably.” 

“That must be it.”

“Never mind, I take it back. I regret everything, and I’m sorry I ever introduced the two of you.”

Steve and Eddie dart a glance at each other, exchanging quick, shit-eating grins.

“But, I mean, that’s not even accurate. You did not introduce us, I’ve known who Eddie was literally for years,” Steve has to protest when he turns back to the kids, partially because it is true, and partially because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna give Dustin the satisfaction, not after the night he’s had. 

“Yeah, cuz I used to sell at all your fancy little shindigs.”

“Not just because of that. Don’t know how to tell you this, Munson, but you’re kinda hard to miss.”

Eddie gawps at him.

“Are you suggesting that King Steve paid attention to little ole me? You’ve made my year, Stevie, truly you have.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m honestly not really sure how anybody could miss you with all those big speeches of yours. Pretty annoying, to be honest.”

“Nah, you liiiiike me,” Eddie taunts. He reaches out, as if he’s about to pinch at one of Steve’s cheeks, but Steve manages to dodge out of the way with his fine-tuned athletic reflexes, batting Eddie’s hand away.

“Well, I think it’s nice,” Lucas pipes up, before the pair of them can fall into their flirtatious back-and-forth again, deliberately shooting Mike a pointed look.

“Thank you, Sinclair,” Steve says. “At least somebody around here has manners.” 

“I still think it’s gross,” Mike mutters.

“And just why is that, Little Wheel?” Eddie asks, lifting one warning eyebrow. “Cuz me and Harrington are both guys?”

“No! Because it’s Steve!” Mike flings out his arms, gesturing to him in disbelief. “First my sister, and then Wi–whu-women! The women of Hawkins, and now you, too?! He’s a jock! What do you even see in him??”

“Wow, thanks a lot, Wheeler,” Steve says, deadpan.

As Lucas lets out a soft, protesting hey! of his own, Max twines her arm tightly around his, glaring daggers at Mike.

“The Munson doctrine’s undergone some pretty heavy revisions, the past few months,” Eddie tugs a strand of hair towards his mouth, shooting Steve a fond look. “Are there some shitty jocks out there? Sure. But there’s plenty more who aren’t. I was a dickhead, to act like we were natural born enemies, or some shit. Assholes are assholes, and we shall judge them accordingly, regardless of creed.”

“Yeah, Mike. Don’t be a jackass like Munson,” Max challenges, grin sharp. 

“Mayfield…” Steve warns with a groan, but Eddie only laughs. 

“Nah, she’s right, Stevie.” Reaching forward, he ruffles Mike’s hair. “Listen to Red–she’s a smart lady–and don’t make the same mistakes as me, Wheeler.”

Mike scoffs, but falls silent, looking suitably chastised. 

Steve squints at them, then, looking both suspicious and curious. "Wait. How the hell did you guys get out here, anyway?"

"We rode. Bikes," Lucas thumbs over his shoulder up into the trees, where their bicycles still lay abandoned. 

"Seriously?" Steve huffs. Running a hand through his hair, he finally gets out of the car, rounding it as he pops open the trunk. "Just…get in the damn car."

"What, in the trunk?" Max asks, just to be a smartass, but the look Steve cuts her tells her he is not having it this evening. She holds up her hands in surrender. "Kidding, I was only kidding. Jeez."

A fair amount of bike wrangling later, the four of them pile into the Beemer’s backseat, packing in tight like a can of sardines. 

“How come Eddie gets shotgun?” Dustin whines in protest just as one of Mike’s sharp elbows digs into his side.

“One,” Steve actually literally begins to tick off on his fingers, not even bothering to turn around, “because you guys are annoying the shit out of me right now, no way one of you rascals gets to ride up front. And two,” he holds up his middle finger deliberately, “boyfriend privileges.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up at the declaration, a toothy smile creasing his face. But there’s something soft around the edges of it, even as he deliberately leans into Steve’s face.

“I’m your boyfriend, Stevie?”

“Well–yeah. Duh, of course you are,” Steve splutters, two bright spots of pink blooming on his cheeks, “I mean–unless you didn’t want–not if you’re not–”

Eddie presses a finger against Steve’s lips, silencing him with a shushing sound.

“No take backs now, Harrington. I’m your boyfriend. Said so yourself.”

“You’re gonna be really insufferable about this, aren’t you?” Once again, Steve’s smile really undercuts his put upon sigh.

“You bet your sweet ass I am.”

“Ew!” Mike protests at the same moment Dustin squawks, “Don’t talk about his ass! There are children present!”

“Really, Henderson? Children?” Steve finally cranes to look at them over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up sardonically. “That’s not what you said last week, when you tried to talk me into buying you beer.”

“You tell ‘em, sweetheart!”

Max rolls her eyes. “Can we please just go? Preferably before you two and your sickening sweetness gives me a cavity?”

And their bickering doesn’t quiet the entire ride back into the neighborhoods of Hawkins.

---

As they pull up in front of their first stop of the night–the Wheelers and the Sinclairs–Steve catches Eddie’s eye, then turns to face the four teens in the backseat again. 

“Look, before you get out,” he starts, stilling Lucas and Mike, each with a hand on their respective door handles, “I just wanted to say…it’s cool, you know, that you guys worry. I get it. But, we’re all okay now. Yeah?”

“What were you doing out by Lover’s Lake?” Dustin asks, a hint of an accusation in his voice. 

“Other than the obvious, like we tried to tell you?” Max snarks back. 

“That one’s on me, Henderson,” Eddie raises a hand, like he’s just been reluctantly called on in class. “Supply run. We decided to make a night of it.”

Both Dustin and Mike’s faces screw up at the way Eddie waggles his eyebrows suggestively, while Max simply elbows Dustin in admonishment from her perch on Lucas’s lap.

“But, no need to worry, kiddos. I’ve got Harrington, now. I’ll protect him from the big bad world,” Eddie winks as Steve shoots him an exasperated but fond look.

“What I’m trying to say,” Steve starts pointedly, steering the conversation back on track, “is maybe it’s time we, I don’t know–stopped worrying so much, and let ourselves be stupid teenagers for a while? That goes for you guys, too.” He wags a finger at them. “But not too stupid, okay? I’m still responsible for you shitheads.”

As a collective, they sigh out, We know, Steve, before Lucas and Mike finally climb out of the car. 

But, despite their show of annoyance, as Steve and Eddie drop them off one-by-one, watching until they each make it inside, the party members all arrive home secure in the knowledge that these days the lake is just a lake, their babysitter and dungeon master safe. And maybe, just maybe, the four of them sleep a little sounder in their beds that night, realizing they might finally get the chance to be stupid teenagers, too, with nothing more than too nosey friends out there waiting for them in the dark.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

That picture of Jeremy Allen White in that slutty crop top is giving me STRONG mechanic vibes. As in boyfriend changing your tires, as in hard working and manual vibes, as in dirty nasty wet sex because seeing him all dirty gets you GOING 😇

oh my GOD i'm going FERAL. based on this picture here.

smut warning !! word count on this is 1k.

masterlist. inbox.

- You dread the days that Carmy decides he's going to work on his car or his bike from home. Not because you don't like having him around, no. The opposite. You like it a little too much.

- He's on your driveway, sun beating down on his tanned skin. Hair in his eyes, sweat dripping down his back, abs on show. He's got a thing for crop tops, these days. It started off as a joke, slightly, but now... now he's realised how much he likes them. They keep his back cool when he's working, give him free movement. And he likes the way you stare.

- You're fucking him with your eyes from the moment he steps outside. He can feel it, your gaze on him wherever he goes. He loves it.

- He's replaced one of your tires and changed your oil while you've been watching him like a hawk. He can practically hear your brain whirring. He might as well be able to read your mind.

- "Hi, pretty," he's smiling as he makes his way into the garage, where you've been sat on a camp chair 'reading'. It's shady in there, and you get a perfect view. Win win.

"Hi, baby."

Fuck, your voice is hoarse. You've laid all your cards out on the table accidentally.

"You good?"

"Yeah, Carm. Fine."

"Really? 'Cause you look a little flustered. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

He leans down to press his lips to yours gently, sweet as anything. As he does it, you slip your tongue into his mouth, telling him exactly what you want.

He moans and pulls away, dropping to his knees in front of you so your eyes are level.

"Oh, honey. What is it that does it for you, huh? The sweat? The grease? Watching me work with my hands?"

You chase his lips again but he stops you with a hand around the base of your throat, firm and solid.

"Answer me and I'll give you what you want."

"The shirt," you croak out. "The crop top. I get wet just looking at it in the goddamn closet."

He smirks, lazy and saccharine, eyes raking up and down your body where you sit.

"I know."

Your eyebrows shoot up.

"What?"

"That's exactly why I wear them, sweetheart. You think I don't see the way you look at me? The way your eyes are glued to my abs? How you rub your thighs together everytime I reach up or lean down? I see it, baby. Clear as day."

Turns out you weren't as subtle as you thought. Oh well. You find your confidence again, not allowing him the upper hand.

"What? Can't I look at my hot ass boyfriend? Is that a crime? You better arrest me then, Officer Berzatto. I'm guilty."

Carmy wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you off the chair in one fell swoop, laying you on the concrete floor of the garage.

"Fuck, it's cold down here."

"Stop complaining before I put that mouth to better use."

You decide it's probably best to keep your comments to yourself for a while.

Carmy presses his nose into the crook of your neck and inhales, deep and dirty. It's animalistic, the way he devours you in bed. Like a predator eating it's prey, over and over again.

"Fuck, you smell good. I wanna swallow you whole."

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in, so his hips bump yours. Both moaning at the friction, he pulls your shirt off, attaching his mouth to any skin he can find. He's biting, sucking, nipping as he goes, marking you up real nice. You love it.

"Carm, please. Just fuck me. Been waiting for it all morning."

He cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a glint in his eye.

"Filthy fuckin' girl. Do you know how nasty you are, beggin' to be fucked on the floor of the garage? You been thinkin' about this, hmm?"

When you don't answer, he slaps your cheek, grabbing your chin with a firm grip.

"Yes, yes. Wanted you since the moment I saw you outside."

"Whore," he says affectionately, leaning down to kiss you gently.

He's ripping your pants and underwear down your legs before you can reply, throwing his own onto the pile too. He hikes one of your legs up onto his hip as he slides into you, both of you groaning.

"Fuck. You love it like this, don't you? My baby just wants my cock, doesn't matter where."

He knows exactly what he's doing, talking to you like this. You'd made the mistake of telling him once how much you loved how filthily he spoke to you in bed. From that moment on, he was a menace.

The concrete is cold and hard under your back, the movement of Carmy's hips causing you to slide. He anchors you down with a hand on your throat, the other digging into the flesh of your hip. He's not letting you go anywhere.

He leans down, whispering for you to open your mouth for him. When you do, he spits into it slowly, grinning at you when you swallow.

"Good fuckin' girl," he murmurs, biting at your lips.

You lean up and lick the sweat off his neck, nipping at his jaw as you go. Pressing your nose into his throat, you inhale, revelling in the way he smells like salt and gasoline and Carmy.

"Touch yourself for me, pretty baby. Show me what you do when I'm at work and you're thinking of me in those crop tops."

You whine in protest but do what he says anyway, throwing your head back in bliss.

"Close, Carm," you manage to choke out.

He tightens his fingers around your throat as he leans down to kiss you on the forehead, and it's your undoing. You find your release, stars blurring your vision as you tighten around him. Carmy groans, deep and drawn out, before he spills inside of you, hips slowing carefully.

"Fuck, I love you," he laughs, collapsing on top of you.

"Love you too," you chuckle, trying to take a breath despite the weight crushing your body. "Especially in that fucking shirt."

"I know," he smirks, laughing when you smack his bicep. "Crop tops. Who knew?"

You shut him up with a kiss. And then another. And then another.

[cy-cyborg]

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

CW: Ableism, dehumanisation

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

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

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

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

cybernetics/cybernetic enhancements

bionics

robot limbs

cyborgs

augmentations

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

edit:

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

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

[the-kr8tor]

can I make a request about prowler hobie and reader is treating his wounds?? Prowler hobie is so slept on ☹️ give my boy some attention too!

you don’t have to though 🫶🏾

Yippeee! Prowler! Hobie ❤️ thank you for requesting!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.4 k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Prowler! Hobie, TW blood, CW injury, CW violence, Hurt/comfort

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your trainers squeak against the moist pavement. The harsh rain is battering against your coat as you try to desperately shield yourself. You hug your bag tighter as a speeding car passes next to you, the sound of hurried sirens follow right after it. The smell of burnt rubber and exhaust smoke enters your nostrils, you cough loudly from the intrusion.

One word settles in your tired mind: Home, and perhaps him too if he ever decides to come home to you tonight.

You don't blame Hobie, he's had it rough and so does the city. With the death of spiderman, anyone who has a need for quick cash or a bone to pick with the city are now roaming the streets freely. No one can stop them, the city's finest or what's left of them are either desperately trying to do their best or joining the worst. Hobie is doing neither. He has his own goals, you just wish you were a part of it too.

You miss Hobie, truly. You miss the days where your only problem was what to eat for dinner, you miss the days where you and Hobie would go out the entire night and only come home when the sun has risen with grins on your faces and laughter stuck in your throat as he kisses you silly. You miss your Hobie, but you have to embrace the prowler too, for they are one and the same.

Sniffing from the cold, fog settles near your feet. Someone whistles down the street so you turn the other corner quickly and away from them. Fear has settled in your stomach and made it into its home. As you walk faster, heavy footsteps behind you get closer and closer. They whistle out, sneering and jeering as they follow you.

With your back turned away from them, you run.

Sprinting off, you hear hurried yells after you, then gasps, and suddenly you hear fists hitting skin. Boots crunching bones underneath it, loud thumps of bodies hitting the ground. Then, silence. The quiet makes you slowly turn around.

Heart in your stomach, you see him standing over seven unconscious bloodied men. His suit whirrs, sparks fly off from the purple lights that snake along his arms. He stomps at someone's arm, bones smashed under his foot, and you notice the blood leaking off his side.

“You're bleeding.” You breathlessly say, taking a step forward towards Hobie, he turns around to face you.

The streetlight above him serves as his spotlight, and the pavement below him is his stage. His mask shines in the yellow light, the faint purple lines in place of his eyes stare at you emotionlessly. He flexes his fists, steam rises off the gauntlets like an engine.

“Are you hurt?” He asks in a mechanical voice, none of the softness you were used to, none of the teasing tone you love dearly. It's him though, under all the steel covering his body, it's him, you're sure of it.

“You're the one who's bleeding.” You finally find the courage to stand side by side with him. Placing your cold hand against the colder metal where his warm ichor seeps through, you try your best to stop the flow. “Let me take you home, please.”

“I can’t—”

“Please,” you whisper softly, that's only for his ears to hear. “Hobie, let me fix this. Come home.”

After a beat, the rain drenches you both, and he nods. “... I'll come home, just for tonight.” And it's the best thing you've heard since everything fell.

—

You thank your past self for ‘forgetting’ to unlock your fire escape. He doesn't comment on it, knowing the real reason behind the lack of lock.

Hobie lets you enter first through the window while you take off your wet coat. He roams his eyes at the flat that hasn't changed much since he last saw it. The leather jacket he unceremoniously left on the back of the settee still hangs there, his trainers are still in the shoe rack by the door. His favourite mug still sits next to yours. The walls are still the same green you two once painted together. It still smells like home, it's still his home.

“Hobie?” You call softly on the couch. Patting the space beside you, you smile hopefully at him.

Wordlessly, he unclaces his boots near the windowsill, remembering how much you hated outdoor shoes inside the flat. Your heart reaches out to him at the small movement, you miss him, and now that he's standing in front of you, it's harder to not run up to him and whisper how much you missed him.

The metal of his suit creaks as he sits down. His blood stains the steel, the purple lights slightly blind you. Noticing your narrowed eyes, he shuts off the light, you smile in thanks.

“I can't treat you with the suit still on you.” You quietly say as you splash your hands with alcohol, you put on gloves and the smell of antiseptic makes you wish the circumstances were different.

“If you wanted to get me naked you could've just asked.” He teases, mask still on, voice still unrecognizable.

Instead of a giggle that he's used to hearing, you choke back a sob that you quickly hide with a calculated sniff. You give him a tight-lipped smile, hands suddenly shaking while holding on to the bandages.

Hobie takes your hands, calming you with his gloveless hands. He guides your hands to the clamps that hold his suit to his body. Silently and comfortably, he lets you take off the top part of his suit. It clunks loudly as it falls on the wooden floors, and he now realizes the lack of carpet.

“What happened to the old carpet?” He asks while you press on the gash near his hip.

“I dropped a bowl of soup, I couldn't get rid of the smell so I just threw it away.”

“You could've gotten it cleaned, you liked that carpet.”

“It's just a carpet, Hobie.” You look up at him through your lashes. “Besides, I don't have money to get it professionally cleaned.”

He knits his brows underneath his mask, “what happened to the money I sent you?”

“‘Sent’ isn't a word that I would use, more like ‘dropped off in front of my door like a stray kitten’” You sigh, blinking, “I used it don't worry, I've put it to good use.” You stop him before he could reply. “And I'm not starving, or behind on rent. Just— some people need it more than me.” The bleeding has finally stopped so you inspect the wound if it needs stitching. “I'm doing fine, don't worry about me.”

“It needs stitching, here let me—”

“Let me do this one thing for you, please.” You almost break in front of him. You want to savour the short moment with him, because if he was the one to suture it, he'll be out of the flat before you could even say goodbye. Just like last time. “Just…” you wipe a tear off your cheek, “I missed you, a lot. And I want you to just stay a few minutes longer.” You honestly tell him.

Hobie holds your face tenderly, thumb rubbing along your tear stained cheeks, the same softness that he doesn't show the people he fights night after night. They see it as weakness, he doesn't, he sees you as his reprieve from the world that wants to crush him in between its gnarled teeth.

He wishes everything was different, that everything would go back to normal where the seven don't rule the entire city, where they didn't plunge the whole city into darkness. Where he would hug you from behind as you two make dinner, where it's just you and him on the couch watching a film that makes you scrunch your face into annoyance.

He misses you too.

“Can I see you?” You ask gently as you hold his hands that's on your cheeks.

Hobie takes his hands away from your face, and for a second you think that he'll leave you right where you sat. But he brings his hands near his temples, with a whirr and a mechanical hiss, he takes off his mask, revealing the face you love so much.

There's new scars on his face, One underneath his left eye that makes your heart almost stop at how it must've felt when it was still fresh. An unrecognizable newer cut on his nose has you weeping.

“‘m doin' fine, don't worry about me, love.” Hobie holds you close, he doesn't mind the ache on his side anymore, arms around your torso, he presses you close to his heart.

“Don't use my own words against me, Hobart.” You mumble against his skin, the same word crosses your mind again, home.

“There’s the spark I miss so much,” he lays his forehead on top of yours, letting his warmth spread over to you. Home, this is his home.

“I missed you too.” You could only hope that the reunion isn't brief as you stitch him back together again.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Jealous Pino headcanons

~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~~⚜️~

(also note that I got this picture from Kkyos, please check them out!! Their lies of p stuff is great!!)

~ This new emotion would all but stagger him the first time he feels it. Perhaps a stalker appears a little too taken by you someday, loitering around you and filling your ears with sweet words and compliments.

Pino would find himself feeling irritated by this. His brow would knit and his eyes glare hard at whoever has your attention like this. He won't interfere, merely hovering close to you and staring cold daggers into the person. He'll make sure you're safe and ok, watching this person and eyeing them to make sure they don't make you uncomfortable.

~ Just him getting all tense when they hug you. Eyeing their hands that roam casually over your waist/back/shoulders. Still, he won't interfere- however you may notice his fists clenching a little, the sound of his legion hand clicking subtly.

~ Maybe later once you've departed from the stalker, he pulls you into a safe secluded alleyway and just eagerly tugs you into his arms, hugging you tightly to the point you feel your feet leave the ground and your lungs squeeze from the air leaving them.

His hands roam and settle on your waist, exactly where the stalker had touched you, and it's like he's trying to rub the ghosting presence of their touch off you. Like he's trying to erase it with his own hands.

Pino will simply stand there with you in his arms till he's satisfied, his nose ghosting over your hairline a little before he places you back down on your feet- looking you over once more. With his palms gently cradling the curves of your arms, he'll pull away and lead you back to the hotel- your hand clasped firmly yet carefully in his human hand, meanwhile you're just a flustered and confused mess.

~ He'd start to confront new feelings of

Insecurity. As a being not quite human nor puppet, he's always never given it much thought other than appreciating the strength he possesses to come out on top in battle. At first, he had felt a sense of pride whenever you marveled at his legion arm- impressed by its mechanic and strength. It was strong. He was strong, and he felt pride in knowing you saw him as that. Your protector.

However now you'll notice him start to be more and more hesitant of touching you with his legion arm, the steel intricate carved hand that would once gently curl within your own fingers in a kind embrace would now rarely even grace you with its touch. He'd be more adamant with touching you with his more 'human' hand, wanting to feel more belonging with you.

~ Pino would start having thoughts that would spiral whenever he thought too much about it. He's just a puppet. He's cold and made of parts, whilst you're warm and made of flesh and soul. Whatever could he give you that real man could...

~ Please just hold his face and assure him that he's more than just a puppet. He's your best friend and protector, as you are to him. That he so incredibly precious to you, and that you wouldn't want anyone else that isn't him. Poor pino would get all droopy eyed and puppy-like, finally embracing you with both of his arms and hiding his face into your stomach as you rub the nape of his neck and his scalp.

~ Once you've communicated everything and he's found peace, it is too tempting to tease him.

~ "You're a little possessive, you know that?" You'd giggle playfully, ruffling his fluffy locks of hair a little.

~ Pino would grunt softly, but not pull away- instead nuzzling his face closer into you and tightening his grip, only proving your point 😅

~ He knows he still has lots to learn when it comes to emotions and what makes him feel, but as long as he has your guiding and reassuring words, Pino feels like he could do anything <3

[ynbabe]

for a request: american motogp rider or bullrider!reader whos from the south x logan sargeant. i’m picturing a male reader but it can be fem 🫶

I've chosen Bullrider! Reader but I don't know jack shit about it lmao 😭

Southern hospitality ୨୧ Logan Sargeant x Male!Reader

Miami GP was good luck for Logan. It was almost like the car and track knew it was his home, he felt faster, stronger, and better on that track but it might also have been the looming threat of losing his job. The constant questioning of his talent and hard work.

He was also totally ignoring the mess that was his personal life, not that he had much outside of F1.

"Knock Knock," Someone tapped his head and declared with a smile in his voice.

"Wh- Alex?" He looked up at his teammate who sheepishly but not apologetically smiled back, skin pink from the sun.

"What were you thinking about?" He asked stealing Logan's 'panic spot' behind the motor home where he was leaning on some old tyres, though any spot could be a panic spot if Logan walked in.

This time he was nudged out of his head, "You're doing it again," he stated, a soft look too close to pity for comfort in his eyes.

"Nah man nothing much, home race and all you know?" He lied and Alex looked least convinced but they were both interrupted by the door opening.

"Hey guys, we've got some PR stuff to do," someone from the team announced. Of course, he was definitely gonna have to skip lunch today as well.

He kept replying to Alex's chatting, still convinced the older man suspected he was lying. He was okay, why wouldn't he be?

"O-oh my god," Alex interrupted himself and pushed an arm in front of Logan, making the blonde boy stop in his tracks confused. "Is that a real-life cowboy?" He all but screamed making Logan look around till he spotted a tanned man with y/h/c hair wearing a leather cowboy hat.

As they reached closer they could hear the thick southern accent the man had, around him were a few of the mechanics, some taking photos and others staring intently at his face or rather his chiselled chest that could be seen through the half-open white shirt the man wore.

"What the fuck?" For the first time in a long time, Logan's mind was clear.

"Logan, stop drooling, I get it but we're in public," Alex chastised, laughing while he pushed the both of them ahead.

Now Logan prided himself on being a mature guy, even as a kid everyone told him so, so why was he pulling and jumping over Alex like a teenage boy trying to show off in front of this really really attractive stranger?

The stopped just as they reached you, Alex's Pr manager was standing there already, looking annoyed at the two for being late.

"Y/n," He called the man who excused himself and walked over to where they were standing, "Logan, Alex, this is Y/n L/n our celebrity guest for Miami,"

The man in front of him laughed, his y/e/c eyes crinkling as he did.

“Now I wouldn’t say celebrity, but thank you sir,” he commented and the older man nodded, a stricter nod was given to Logan and Alex but both chose to ignore that.

They walked towards a shaded area, Y/n leading them, “Now I would say y’all are the real celebrities, drivin’ those cars at a million miles,” his voice (the accent) raised the hair at the back of Logan’s neck.

“Hahaha, thank you so much, so what do you do?” Alex asked, which made Logan glare at man, that was such a rude question! He could be a nepo-baby, it’s America Alex!

“Oh, I’m a bull rider,” he answered and suddenly Logan was chocking on air, it’s not his fault his brain was disgusting! “You okay, Sargeant,” the man, the literal bull rider had placed a hand on his shoulder and was asking him- wait what the fuck? Logan was a grown man, why is he acting like a teenage girl with a crush?

He straightened up, trying to clear his throat, “bull rider, huh,” he pointed to the hat, making the man smile, a slight blush spreading across his features.

“All a part of the brand, stole it from a teammate and it stuck,” he made a pained expression, half joking.

“Do you know J.B. Mauney?” Alex asked, reminding Logan that he was still there.

"Oh Lord," Y/n laughed, "He's my teammate," now it was Alex's turn to swoon.

"Really? Oh my God, he's so cool! My for you page is filled with his edits!" Alex told the man in front of him and the second-hand embarrassment Logan felt could have killed him only Alex didn't seem embarrassed at all, in fact, he was doubling down on the simp parade.

"Between you an' I, I had a pretty darn big crush on that man too," he confessed, winking at Logan. "I think you boys need to get goin' now but how bout we catch lunch? I heard they don't feed you good round here," Logan turned around and saw someone call for them and missed the way Alex looked between the two men standing significantly closer together than needed.

"Unfortunately, I've got a little lunch date with Lily," Alex feigned sadness but smiled wide.

Y/n turned to the blonde, raising a brow to which Logan couldn't help but nod yes.

As they walked away, Logan still reeling from the butterflies he got in his stomach every time the other man spoke, Alex bumped into him, giggling, "You are so welcome, mate," he laughed and walked into the building.

y/n/l/nofficial

y/n/l/nofficial told him not to eat the wasabi 🤷‍♂️

username Is this a soft launch?

username Oh?

username IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEEE

username Istg I've seen that blonde before

username ong that hoodie too

You knew you had forgotten to tag Logan but you never expected people to expect he was your boyfriend! That post wasn't even that suggestive, was it? Oh god, it was going to be so embarrassing!

"Hey, Y/n you good?" Your teammate asked you causing you to throw your phone at the man, who laughed at the comments.

"This is why we keep PR managers, cowboy," he threw it back to you, "Hey at least you got another bull outta it-" he teased making you throw your pillow at him which he laughed at rushing out the room.

Your hand trembled over Logan's chat. Should you invite him out again? The lunch invitation already had you sweating under your collar like a thief in church. Why was talking to that Floridian getting you so nervous? You balanced on live bulls for a damn living!

Okay, oh god why wasn't he responding. You really fucked this up, next time you went out you were going to let that bull throw you nine ways to Sunday and then some more.

Could you blame this on autocorrect? Yeah, of course, everyone knew what a nuisance that damn thing was.

In the middle of your spiral, you got a few notifications, hoping it was Logan you quickly checked your phone, almost dropping it in the process.

logansargeant

logansargeant Southern Hospitality 🫡

username sir? Bro? Pookie bear? Come back home the kids miss you 😭

username Forgive me I wasn't aware of your game

username Guys can't they just be friends???

alexalbon You're welcome 🥰

username GIRL- WHAT DO YOU KNOW????

username IS THAT @/y/n/l/noffical

username I'D KNOW THAT DAMN SMILE ANYWHERE Stgsiagdfki

Request 1/5- DONE!! Updates will be weekly as I wanna make sure I get the best quality of each fic but TRUST your ask will be answered cause most are abt Logan and we stan that American boy in this damn blog here 😤

As always pls do let me know how y'all like the fic!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[t1ts-4-scattorcio]

i love ur headcanons!! would u be able to do how lottienat would be in bed with a shy partner :)

Ofc 💕 Shy partner sleeping with LottieNat

LottieNat x Shy Reader

SFW:

You were definitely nervous about physical contact around nat and lots when you were first dating them, you had never been intimate with someone before so it took you a little bit of time to get out of your shell

the first time you had shared the bed with both girls was at a sleepover at lottie's house, it had been a long night and you were ready to crash. Lottie and nat were huddled up together and you stood at the end of her bed arms crossed looking down wondering how to approach the situation

nat pulls your hand and you walk toward her side, she caresses your cheek and softly pulls the covers off so you can slip in next to her, at first you're stiff but slowly calm down, "It's just me," looks over at lottie "just us" she presses a kiss on your forehead and lottie reaches over and attacks you with kisses and love making you laugh.

you hide your face in lottie's neck when nat compliments you and calls you her baby right after getting ready for bed (or the other way around). You’re so pookie

running hands through your hair and being a little spoon when you're anxious

sleeping with them becomes a coping mechanism fr, place free of judgement

with time you would squeeze yourself between them or anywhere on the bed without feeling odd about it. They were so happy too that you were comfortable enough to do that around them.

nat hogs the blankets so you need to get one for yourself or end up on top of lottie and she holds you close so you're warm. Nat gets jealous though and pulls you into her arms if she wakes up in the middle of the night girl is so needy 😙

Lottie is always SO WARM, personal heater for real it's terrible in the summer "lottie please let go it's too hot" you shove her off and lean into nats space, 5 mins later and lottie has latched you to her side again, but both girls want to be close to you.

NSFW:

nat usually initiates anything sexual especially when you all are high. Inhibitions are low so you relax way easier, you are also bolder and not scared to initiate anything, straddling lottie grinding down on her while grabbing nat by her collar and kissing her.

waking up with nat between your thighs and lottie sloppily pecking your neck, running her hands across your chest and down your waist.

you wake up with loads of hickeys and have to smother yourself in foundation that eventually rubs off when you go to practice. Tai and van always make fun of you for it lmao

Post Crash:

they both become protective since you're in a new space and it's not that comfortable

will make the best makeshift bed you can possibly imagine in the cabin.

will become a cuddle pile whenever you're snowed in and there's nothing to do the other girls get kind of annoyed that you're all relaxing but let's bffr 🙄there's nothing else to do, the other girly pops are just jealous they should cuddle each other.

I think you both start to care more for nat after she gets hunted and is stressed out about being queen, holding her when she wakes up crying from nightmares and rocking her back and forth until she's fast asleep again

sleep is one of the the best parts of your day honestly, it's perfect alone time and beyond comforting in such a scary place.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt]

Saudade.

Warnings: Being a hostage, waking up after being unconscious, swimming(in a lake), mentions of asphyxiation, mentions of mechanical limbs, mentions of being a killer.

Body Description: Hair that is usually pinned and tied back(past tense).

Part three.

Series Masterlist.

~☆~

He speaks to you when you sleep. He's been doing it since he died

It's not that he visits you from the afterlife, no, he visits you in memories that feel a little too real.

This time, you're eighteen years old, a small braid still behind your ear. You're two Padawans, swimming in a Naboo lake, laughing as he holds your waist, lifting you and throwing you further into the water.

You were clad in garments that Queen Padmé Amidala had graciously given the both of you, seeing as neither of you had swimming attire appropriate for just going out and having fun.

His hair was chopped short, and he had a matching braid behind his right ear. He had not lost his arm to Count Dooku, nor did he have his iconic scar that went from his right eyebrow down to his cheekbone.

The memory isn't tainted by the other memories you'd have later in life, you're oblivious in this dream. It's just you re-living your time as a Padawan.

Your robes and lightsabers are up on the land, under a tree. Anakin swims the small distance over to where he threw you, a big grin deepening his smile lines. Your own smile mirrored his own. The two of you were happy, not having to bend to the Jedi rules while you're out swimming in some clear water. A break.

Peace.

Tranquility.

You're jolted awake by a beeping sound, so your eyes snap open. You're back in your private chambers, no longer out on the rocky terrain of Mustafar like you last remember. Did Vader take you back himself? Did he get a stormtrooper or a Droid to retrieve you?

You sit up and pat your body, seeing if anything has been done to it. Everything is normal. You're even still in the clothes you dressed yourself in.

The beeping sound coming from your door finally stopped, only for the sound of compressed air to momentarily replace it. A stormtrooper takes a step in. You think its the same one who has been delivering your food, but it's hard to tell, considering the fact that they all look the same.

"Lord Vader has requested that you change your attire and join him in the dining room." The Stormtrooper stands straight, permanently at attention.

"Tell Lord Vader that I have no interest in his... request." That was no request from him. It was a demand.

The Stormtrooper stands still, staring. For a second, you think he is going to drag you out of the room, but he just leaves. The metal door closes behind him, locking automatically, making you sigh and flop back on your bed.

You turn your head to the side, staring at the gray sheets. Your hand reaches up, and you rub the fabric between two of your fingers. Your sheets back at the Jedi Temple were almost the exact same shade of gray. The sheets you grew up sleeping with curled up in a ball on most nights after an intense training session with your old Master.

A sense of loss fills you...

You've lost everything.

Your home, your rank, your friends, your freedom... You've lost it all.

You don't feel that for long, because a feeling of dread replaces it. He's close. You can feel the dark presence of him. He is angry. He is frustrated.

Your answer was a mistake. You should have just done what you were told.

Mechanical doors open, and the air lock breaks yet again. In all of his terrifying 6'8 glory, Darth Vader stands.

In this moment, you realize that the lenses on his helmet are red, not black like the rest of his attire. It's silly, really... noticing something so small when you could possibly die in this moment.

Would he do the signature move you hear stories of? Use the force to wrap an invisible hand around your throat, crushing your trachea, cutting off the part that makes oxygen go to your lungs, leaving you dead by asphyxiation?

"You were told to join me!" His modulated voice raises, making you blink a few times as you stare up at him with wide eyes. This is it. "Why can't you do what you are told?"

The spit that had collected under your tongue was now going down your throat thickly, making you feel like you swallowed a stone. "I do not obey your kind." You fix your posture in a second, speaking in a strong voice to try and hide whatever you feel.

Darth Vader stares back at you for a second, only the sounds of his modulated breath escaping him.

"My kind?" He speaks right before a dark and deep chuckle can be heard. "A Sith? An Emperor? The most powerful being in the galaxy? A killer? Do explain, Y/N."

You ball up your fists as you swallow again. "A tyrant. A Sith. A killer without cause. Call it what you will."

His steps were loud against the metal floor as he approached you, standing right in front of you. His large hand grabs your face with slight force, but not roughly. You've heard whispers about how he is just a machine. That his hands are just made of wires, screws, and the metal that holds it together. You don't know if you believe that because whatever he's holding you with is not as hard as metal. You can feel it under his leather gloves.

"We are one of the same." He tells you. "The sooner you see that, the sooner I can get what I want."

"We are not the same!" You yell stupidly. Who would yell at the most powerful Sith that is known for killing without remorse?

He's silent again, just staring down at you.

"Wear the wine colored dress. I'll be waiting."

~☆~

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