’Ae

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… is all fire and control in the bedroom. She doesn’t waste time with romance—when she’s here, it’s about pure, unrestrained pleasure. She’s dominant, aggressive, and always leaves you breathless.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… teases relentlessly. From biting and pinching to sultry whispers in your ear, she knows exactly how to push your buttons and make you squirm.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… loves keeping it casual outside the bedroom. She’ll text you provocative messages just to remind you who she belongs to, but she’s distant enough that you have to earn the next encounter.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… knows your body inside and out. Every gasp, moan, and twitch tells her exactly what you like, and she takes full advantage, never holding back.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… can be messy and relentless. Her hands grip, her hips thrust, and her mouth works on you without pause, combining dominance with utter indulgence.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… is unapologetic about what she wants. She doesn’t sugarcoat it—if she wants you, she takes you, and you know she’s going to leave you dripping and desperate every time.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who…l oves the thrill of secrecy. She thrives on the tension of sneaking around, stolen moments, and late-night encounters, making every touch feel electric.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… is playful with boundaries. She’ll smirk at your protests, push just enough to see you whimper, and then pull back with a teasing laugh, making you crave her again.

Fuck buddy! Sevika who… has zero interest in cuddling after…usually. She’s all about the intensity, the domination, and leaving you shaking and breathless, though occasionally she’ll give a fleeting smirk or brush your hair back, just enough to make you melt.

— Vi

Vi can’t help but groan loudly the second you settle on her face. Her hands grip your hips tightly, but you can feel her tongue working hungrily against you, and it sends shivers straight down your spine.

She loves when you grind down slowly, controlling the pace, teasing her with every little sway. Her moans get rougher, muffled under your weight, as her tongue and lips worship you like she’s been starved.

The way she mewls and tugs at your thighs drives you wild, and she’ll occasionally nibble or suck on your thighs when she gets impatient, making you buck involuntarily.

— Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s usually poised, but she’s helpless under you. She teases you back in small ways, like nibbling your inner thighs or softly licking just the edges before you press fully down.

Her hands find your hips, kneading and squeezing as her tongue teases and laps at you, trying to get every inch she can. Every little gasp or shudder you make makes her press harder, insatiable.

When you grind down fully, she groans your name, her lips and tongue tracing your folds as if memorizing every sensitive part of you, leaving you trembling with overstimulation.

— Sevika

Sevika is rough and aggressive—she loves it when you ride her face, grinding hard and fast, taking total control. Her hands dig into your thighs, pulling you closer so she can lap at you with full force.

Her moans are deep and guttural, vibrating through you as she aggressively sucks and nibbles, making sure you feel every second. If you slow, she growls, pushing you down faster to remind you who’s enjoying this more.

She’s all in—there’s no subtlety. Her tongue, lips, and even teeth are working together to bring you to your edge, making you squirm, moan, and beg without realizing it.

— Ambessa

Ambessa is deliberate and controlled at first, but when you sit on her face, all restraint vanishes. Her tongue teases you slowly at first, drawing out every inch of your pleasure.

She murmurs low, hot sounds into you, licking and sucking, her fingers sliding over your hips or thighs to guide you. The slow, tantalizing rhythm makes your thighs tremble and your moans escape in desperate bursts.

When she gets carried away, she buries her face deep, lapping at you eagerly, every lick and suck measured yet overwhelming, leaving you trembling, trembling, and completely spent in her hands.

Sevika

Sevika can’t hide how desperate she is for your pussy. The second she sees you in tight clothes, she’s imagining sinking her tongue into you. She loves watching you shift, the subtle sway of your hips, the way your thighs brush together.

When alone, she drags you against a wall, hands gripping your hips, and buries her face between your legs. She laps at your folds, moaning your name as she tastes how wet you are.

She’s rough and possessive—pulling you closer, grinding her face into you, growling, “God, you’re dripping for me. you’re mine, and I’m taking every drop.”

She loves to hear you cry out, shiver, and call her name. Every gasp fuels her obsession, and she’ll relentlessly fuck her tongue into you until your knees shake.

Vi

Vi gets playful but greedy. She can’t resist teasing her fingers along your folds before plunging them inside you, curling them just right to make you moan.

She’s obsessed with your reactions—watching your eyes roll back, feeling your thighs clench, and hearing you beg. Her mouth soon follows, lips and tongue devouring you.

Vi loves to fuck you with her mouth and fingers at the same time, whispering low, husky things like, “Look at you… so wet… just for me.”

Even casual touches turn messy—she’ll slide a finger between your folds while holding your wrist, making you gasp and arch into her, and she thrives on the helpless sounds you make.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s obsession is slow, deliberate, and meticulous. She’ll tease you first, parting your thighs, running her tongue over the outer folds, and tracing your clit with her finger before daring to lick fully.

She loves the way you shiver under her touch, the soft, breathless moans you make. Hearing you call her name or whimper for more makes her insatiable.

Caitlyn is fascinated by every detail—how your pussy tastes, how wet you get for her, how your muscles tighten around her tongue or fingers. She’ll make you beg for her mouth, and she takes her time making you scream.

Even in public, subtle touches—her thumb sliding over your folds under your skirt—leave her flushed and obsessed, fantasizing about devouring you later.

Ambessa

Ambessa’s obsession is aggressive and commanding. She can’t resist pressing you against her, spreading your legs, and taking you with her mouth. Her tongue and lips are relentless, teasing, sucking, licking, and plunging deep.

She thrives on dominance—holding your hips down, making you whimper, cry out, and beg. Every sound you make only fuels her need to fuck your pussy with her mouth.

She talks dirty as she goes, whispering exactly what she wants to do to you, making you hotter and wetter. “You’re mine, and I’m not stopping until you’re trembling… until you scream my name.”

Ambessa loves to make you cum over and over, sometimes teasing with pauses or pulling back slightly, just so she can see your desperation before diving back in.

Vi—

Vi’s eyes darken the moment she notices how wet you are, her jaw tightening with desire. She loves watching you tremble and drip, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk.

When you cum in front of her, she leans closer, grinning as she sees your juices spill, and teases you relentlessly about how loud and needy you are.

If she’s feeling playful, she’ll messily grind against you, rubbing her hips while murmuring in that low, growling voice: "You like making me watch, huh? You want me dripping too?"

She’s both possessive and teasing, sometimes smirking as she licks her fingers clean off your slick, whispering, "Messy as hell, just the way I like it."

Her rough, unrestrained energy makes her want to take you right there, sometimes pinning you against a wall while you’re still trembling from your release.

Caitlyn—

Caitlyn’s usually composed nature melts when she sees you squirting, and she can’t hide the flush creeping up her neck.

She’ll study every detail, fascinated by how your body reacts, letting her hands wander a little too boldly over your thighs or hips.

When you squirt, she softly bites her lip, letting out a quiet, impressed moan, whispering, "Still perfect, even when you’re trembling like that."

Caitlyn enjoys control and observation, sometimes having you on your knees while she watches, instructing you how to touch yourself for maximum effect.

Her fingers can’t resist, teasing herself in tandem while keeping her eyes glued to your quivering form and dripping pussy.

Sevika—

Sevika adores messy, chaotic releases—your squirting in front of her makes her pulse spike instantly.

She might kneel or straddle you, fingers tracing your folds as she watches your body shiver and jerk helplessly.

When you cum hard, she growls low, her lips brushing your neck: "Tch… look at this mess. All that just for me?"

She’s possessive, sometimes pressing her body against yours, smearing your juices over both of you, and loves licking it off, savoring your scent.

Her intensity makes it hard to distinguish teasing from domination; she’ll leave you gasping, trembling, and dripping in pleasure as she alternates between praise, biting, and licking.

Ambessa—

Ambessa is subtle but calculatingly cruel in the best way; she enjoys watching your release while she remains mostly in control.

She’ll run her fingers along your thighs, letting her nails scrape lightly, making every squirt louder, every moan more desperate.

Her voice is low and intoxicating, whispering things like: "You can’t hide it from me doll, I see exactly how much you want it— how much you need me."

Ambessa likes to draw out the moment, having you squirt multiple times for her amusement while she watches, teasing your reaction and marking you with gentle bites and touches.

She savors the power dynamic, the visual of your trembling, dripping body fueling her own desire.

Jinx—

Jinx is chaotic and energetic, absolutely losing it when she sees you squirt in front of her. She’ll giggle, curse, and cheer all at once, loving the mess and the chaos.

She might grab your hips or thighs, teasing and spanking, urging you to cum again, her own hands sliding between her legs.

When your release hits, she laughs breathlessly, leaning close to lick your juices, sometimes smearing them on your body while shouting playful, bratty encouragements: "Yeah! That’s it! Make a mess!"

Jinx thrives on messy, unrestrained energy, turning your squirting into a game, teasing you until your body is shaking and dripping.

Her excitement is contagious, making her eager to push you to the edge over and over, laughing at your desperation and delighting in every splash.

Vi—

Vi’s hands grip your hips as she slides the vibrator slowly against your wet cunt, her eyes dark with lust. She presses it harder, leaning close to whisper, "You like this, don’t you, baby? All for me." Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you toward her as she grins at your squirming.

The vibrations make you shiver, your pussy clenching around nothing but air and her teasing. She smirks and teases, sliding the vibrator faster over your clit while groaning, "So wet… taking it so well… ride it, ride it for me." You cry out, slick spilling over the toy as she grinds her hand against your thigh.

Vi’s other hand grabs your waist, steadying you as she pushes the vibrator harder, sloppy juices mixing with the slick toy. She growls against your ear, "Mine… I’m gonna make you scream, sweetheart." Every pulse of the vibrator sends tremors through your body, making you arch into her touch.

When she adds a finger inside your dripping cunt while the vibrator pulses on your clit, you feel completely overwhelmed, shivering and moaning uncontrollably. Her lips brush your neck as she whispers filthy encouragements, tasting your sweat and wetness.

Even after your climax, Vi keeps the vibrator pressed against your twitching pussy, teasing you with sloppy, demanding licks and groans. "Fuck… still so wet…" she growls, grinning as she pulls you into a messy, heated embrace.

Sevika—

Sevika growls, pressing the vibrator against your clit with force. "Come on, sweetheart. Prove you can handle me." she hisses, holding your hips and watching your body tremble. The vibrations make your pussy clench and drip as she leans down to taste your slick.

She doesn’t hold back, pushing the toy faster and adding a finger inside your wet cunt. "So messy… so fucking wet… ride it, doll, ride it hard" Her rough, greedy licks leave you shivering and gasping, juices dripping down her lips and chin.

Sevika’s dominance is primal—every vibration and stroke of her finger combined with her sloppy, messy tongue keeps you on edge. She growls and pants, adding pressure with the vibrator, reveling in how much you’re squirming and moaning.

When you cum under her, slick and twitching, she groans, shoving her face deeper into your cunt while the toy continues to hum against your clit. She tastes every drop of your mess, her claws gripping your hips as you shake uncontrollably.

Even after, Sevika keeps teasing you with sloppy licks and the vibrator pressed lightly against your still-sensitive pussy. "you taste like heaven, doll," she growls, messy, proud, and completely satisfied with how wet and messy you are.

Caitlyn—

Caitlyn’s hands are firm but methodical as she glides the vibrator across your pussy, teasingly slow at first. "So wet… take it for me, darling." she whispers, her lips brushing your neck as the vibrations pulse against your clit.

She alternates between pressing the toy firmly and dragging it lightly across your folds, her fingers occasionally sliding inside your slick pussy. The mix of precise pressure and sloppy wetness makes your hips buck uncontrollably.

Caitlyn murmurs dirty praises with every gasp and moan you emit. "Perfect... your cunt tastes perfect against this… feel it, sweetheart," she says, keeping you firmly in place as she guides your body over the vibrations.

As you cum, slick pouring over the toy, she continues slow, wet licks along your folds, savoring every drop and every tremor. The combination of her tongue, fingers, and vibrator overwhelms you completely.

Even after, she keeps the vibrator close, teasing your sensitive clit and whispering filthy, precise words. "Still perfect, even when you’re trembling like that." she hums, satisfied and controlling, enjoying your continued squirming.

Ambessa—

Ambessa hums as she presses the vibrator against your slick pussy, slow at first, teasingly circling your clit. "Ride it for me, little one" she whispers, sliding her hands over your hips and thighs.

Her tongue occasionally flicks along your folds, sloppy and wet, while the toy pulses against your clit, making you shiver and moan uncontrollably. "So messy… taste it… taste yourself, my dear." she murmurs, her hands guiding your hips.

She alternates between slow, deliberate teasing and sudden, messy pressure, watching your reactions with hypnotic intensity. Her sloppy licks combined with the vibrations make your body arch, shivering with overstimulation.

As you cum, slick dripping over the toy, she hums, shivers, and tastes every drop, whispering filthy praises. "your cunt tastes incredible," she murmurs, still pressing the vibrator lightly against your sensitive folds.

Even after, Ambessa keeps teasing, pressing the toy gently and licking along your dripping pussy, savoring the mess she helped create. she hums, satisfied and sloppy, enjoying every twitch and gasp.

Sevika’s crush on you starts quiet — like a spark caught in her chest that she doesn’t know what to do with. You’re from the Lanes too, always hanging around the same scrapyard she does, scavenging for bits to trade. She likes watching how careful your hands are when you pick through the junk, the way you hum when you find something good. It’s stupid, she tells herself. You’re just some girl with a pretty smile. But she can’t stop staring.

She doesn’t know how to talk to you, so she doesn’t. Not directly. Instead, she starts showing up wherever you are. If you’re fixing something? She’s there, pretending to need parts too. If you’re talking to someone? She lingers nearby, pretending to be busy while glaring at anyone who gets too close. She thinks she’s being subtle. Everyone else knows she’s not.

The first time you actually talk to her, it’s because she helps you carry something heavy — an engine core twice your size. You smile at her and say, "You’re stronger than you look." Sevika swears her brain short-circuits. She mumbles something like, "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta help the weak ones," trying to sound cool. You laugh. She spends the rest of the night lying awake, replaying that laugh over and over like a fool.

Sevika’s not good with feelings. So she channels them into stupid acts — punching guys who tease you, fixing things you leave half-broken, leaving gifts on your doorstep and pretending it wasn’t her. A wrench. A chunk of shimmer ore. A small knife she sharpened herself. You always somehow know it’s her, even when she denies it.

The day she hears someone else flirt with you, she sees red. She’s halfway through decking the guy before she even realizes it. You pull her back, scolding her, telling her it wasn’t a big deal. She just grumbles something about "he had it coming." But when you look at her with those soft eyes and say, "You don’t have to fight for me, Sevika," she doesn’t know how to tell you that she already would — a hundred times over.

She starts training harder after that. Fights in the underground rings, takes hits just to prove she can handle them. When you patch her up after one of those fights, scolding her for being reckless, she feels something heavy in her chest. You’re touching her — gentle, careful — and for a second, she wishes she could just stay in that moment forever.

Sevika’s friends tease her constantly. "That’s your girl, huh?" they’d joke, nudging her when you pass by. She always denies it, rough voice snapping "Shut up, she ain’t mine." But when you turn around and wave at her, her whole posture changes — shoulders dropping, expression softening. She waves back awkwardly. And yeah, they all see it.

Once, she walks you home after curfew. Zaun’s streets are darker than usual, filled with shimmer mist and danger, but you’re laughing the whole way — telling her some dumb story about your day. She doesn’t even listen to the words; she just watches your face glow in the flickering neon lights. When you thank her for walking you, she says, "Anytime." And she means it.

One night, she finally blurts it out. Not a confession — not quite. Just a half-mumbled, "I like… being around you.” You grin and say, “I like being around you too, big girl." Sevika turns scarlet. You don’t see her for three days after that. When she finally shows up again, she’s grumpier than usual, but her eyes find yours across the room, and that tiny, secret smile gives her away.

Years later, when she thinks back to her youth — to the mess, the fights, the hunger, the shimmer haze — she’ll remember one thing clearly: you. The girl who laughed too loud in a city that ate softness alive. The one who made Sevika feel something before the world hardened her. And if she ever catches herself smiling for no reason, it’s probably because she remembered that feeling again — the way her heart used to beat faster when you said her name.

She doesn’t sleep much anymore. Nights are long and cruel, filled with half-dreams where she swears she can feel your weight against her chest, your breath against her neck. Then she wakes up and the other side of the bed is cold — too cold. She’ll roll over, drag her metal arm across the empty sheets, and stare at the ceiling until morning, wondering how the hell someone like her ever deserved love in the first place.

Your laugh used to fill her apartment. You’d tease her about her gambling, her scars, her temper. She’d pretend to be annoyed, but secretly she loved it — the way your voice softened her edges. Now, when she comes home, the silence feels like punishment. Every sound echoes too loud. She sometimes mumbles something out loud, hoping to trick her mind into thinking you’ll answer back. You never do.

Her prosthetic arm creaks sometimes, and she remembers how you used to oil the joints for her. You’d scold her for not taking care of it, then kiss the spot just above the scar like it could make it hurt less. After you were gone, Sevika learned how to fix it herself. But it’s not the same. Every time she works on it, she remembers your hands — steady, gentle — and her chest feels like it’s collapsing in slow motion.

She never told anyone how you died. Not Vander, not Silco, not anyone. The story sits heavy in her throat, trapped behind a wall of guilt and smoke. Maybe she blames herself — maybe she should. You died trying to save her. She still remembers your last words, quiet and broken, slipping past blood and breath. Sometimes she hears them in her dreams, like you’re still whispering them in her ear. It never leaves her.

Sevika drinks more now. Not to forget — she knows she never will — but to dull the edges of remembering. When the liquor burns down her throat, it almost feels like you’re sitting beside her again, laughing at how dramatic she gets. She’ll lift her glass sometimes, say nothing, just stare at it for a moment before drinking. That’s her version of a prayer. A toast to the ghost that never really left her.

People still flirt with her. They always have. But no one gets close. No one gets to touch her like you did. When someone leans in too far, she tenses — not because she’s shy, but because she knows she’ll never feel anything like that again. You weren’t just her lover. You were her calm. Her reason to put down the knife. Without you, she only knows how to fight, smoke, and survive. Living feels like too much.

She keeps one thing of yours — a scarf you used to wear in the winter. It still smells faintly like you, even years later. Sometimes, when the city is quiet and the neon lights fade through her window, she’ll press it to her face and breathe you in. It’s the only time she lets herself cry. Just quiet tears slipping down her cheek while she grips the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

There’s a part of her that still looks for you in crowds. Whenever someone passes by with your hair color or your walk, she freezes for half a second, heart hammering. Then she remembers. You’re gone. Every time it hits her, it’s like losing you all over again. She mutters your name under her breath and lights a cigarette, pretending the smoke in her lungs is enough to fill the space you left behind.

If she could see you again — just once — she wouldn’t talk about regret or pain. She’d just pull you in, hold you tight with both arms, and let her silence say everything. She’d breathe you in, memorize you all over again, and whisper against your skin, “You ruined me for anyone else.” And maybe that’s the truth — Sevika was never built for love. But you made her believe in it. And that’s the part that hurts the most — that you made her soft, and now she’s bleeding for it every day.

Ambessa doesn’t speak your name anymore. Not because she forgot it, but because the sound of it feels like salt rubbed into an open wound. Every letter of your name holds a memory she can’t fight. When she thinks of you, her jaw tightens, her breath slows, and that sharp, steady soldier inside her breaks just a little. The name that once filled her with warmth now feels like a blade she keeps twisting inside her chest.

Her soldiers whisper that she became colder after you died. That she fights harder, drinks more, and sleeps less. They don’t know it’s because she’s afraid of the silence when the battle ends. In silence, she can hear your laugh echoing in her head — that small, soft laugh that used to come right before you scolded her for being reckless. Now the silence mocks her. It reminds her she’s still here, and you’re not.

Ambessa used to believe love made her weak. You proved her wrong. You softened her, even when she fought it. You’d touch her cheek after a long day, and she’d lean into your hand — only for a second — before pulling away like she hadn’t. Now she aches for that softness she once rejected. She’d give anything to feel your fingers against her skin again, even if it meant being weak forever.

She still keeps your ring. It sits in a small metal box she carries everywhere, tucked behind her daggers. When she’s angry, she grips it until her hand bleeds. When she’s lonely, she opens the box and just stares at it, as if the memory of you could crawl out and hold her again. That ring saw every side of her — warrior, lover, monster — and still, you chose to stay. That’s what kills her the most.

The bed is too big now. She used to complain that you took all the blankets, that your feet were always cold. Now she wakes up on your side, reaching out to pull you closer, only to find empty sheets. Sometimes, half-asleep, she mutters your name and whispers, “Move closer, my love.” When she wakes fully, she sits there for minutes, staring at where your body should be, as if she could will you back with sheer strength.

She visits your grave at dawn — never at night, never when anyone could see her. She kneels, her armor cold against the dirt, and speaks like you’re still listening. “You’d hate what I’ve become,” she sometimes says. “But I’m doing what I must.” The wind moves through the grass, and she takes it as your answer. Sometimes, she swears she can smell your perfume in the air. For a heartbeat, it almost feels like you’re still there.

There are nights when she dreams of you. In those dreams, you’re alive — smiling, teasing her, touching her hair. She wakes up soaked in sweat, her chest heaving, her eyes wet. She hates crying. It’s not a warrior’s thing to do. But with you, she was never just a warrior. You saw the side of her that wanted peace. And now, that side has nowhere to go but to cry into her pillow in the dark.

Ambessa keeps your picture locked away. She doesn’t look at it often. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because it hurts too much. The day she does, it’s because the pain has boiled over — a day when every breath feels like punishment. She stares at your face and mutters, “You should’ve lived, not me.” She means it every time. She would’ve faced ten armies, ten deaths, if it meant saving you once.

She’s tried to move on. Tried to bury herself in work, in power, in glory. But none of it fills the hollow space you left. No victory, no throne, no amount of blood spilled can touch the ache in her chest. When people praise her strength, she only feels shame. Because they don’t see that all her strength now comes from trying to survive a world where you no longer exist.

If she could see you again — just once — she wouldn’t say she’s sorry. You knew she wasn’t good with words. Instead, she’d pull you close, rest her forehead against yours, and breathe you in like air. She’d whisper, “I still love you.” Because even if you’re gone, that love hasn’t died. It’s just buried under scars and armor, waiting — always waiting — for the day she can hold you again, somewhere beyond this cruel world.

a/n: I love how needy vi is. She's so adorable

She was already shaking and you hadn't even touched her yet.

Vi sat on the edge of the bed, thighs spread just slightly, her palms pressed to her knees like she was trying to keep them steady. Her flushed skin glowed in the low, golden light of your bedroom. Hair tousled, chest rising and falling—she was already undone by the anticipation alone.

You stood in front of her in nothing but your harness and a soft, teasing smirk.

“You ready to be good for me, baby?”

Vi nodded, but you tsked, tilting her chin up.

“Use your words.”

Her throat bobbed. “Y-yeah. I wanna be good. I’ll be good for you.”

God, she was so easy to ruin when she let go. All muscle and fire by day, but in your hands? She was so soft, so eager to please.

You pushed her back gently, guiding her to lie flat as you climbed over her. She stared up at you like you were divine, lips parting as you leaned down to kiss her—slow, deep, possessive.

“You’re mine tonight,” you whispered against her lips.

“Always,” she breathed back.

Your hand trailed down her abdomen, fingers teasing her slit until she was dripping. She was already so wet. You dipped two fingers inside and her back arched, a sharp gasp catching in her throat.

“Such a good girl,” you whispered into her neck, your thumb rubbing soft, slow circles on her clit. “So wet for me already.”

Vi whimpered, hips rocking up into your hand. “Please. I need it. I need you.”

You kissed her again, then sat back and reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. You let her watch you coat the strap, your strokes slow and teasing, the light catching the sheen of it.

“You’re gonna take all of it, yeah?”

“Yes. I want it so bad.”

You lined yourself up and pressed the tip against her entrance. Her breath caught again. One hand braced against her thigh, the other cupping her cheek, you pushed in slow—inch by inch—until you bottomed out and she let out a strangled moan.

“Fucking hell…” she gasped. “You feel so good—so deep—”

“Shh, baby,” you murmured, brushing your lips over her ear. “Let me fuck you.”

You set a rhythm—deep and steady at first, letting her adjust, letting her feel it. Her legs wrapped around your waist, her nails dug into your back.

You fucked her like you loved her. Like you owned her. And in that moment, you did.

“Taking me so well, baby,” you whispered as you began to move faster. “So good. So fucking good for me.”

She was crying by the time you really picked up the pace. Little gasps, choked moans, her hips rising to meet every thrust. Her eyes were glassy, lips bitten red, hair sticking to her forehead.

You slid a hand between her legs and rubbed tight, fast circles against her clit. Her whole body jolted.

“Come on, Vi. Be good. Let go for me.”

She broke—came hard around you with a strangled moan, thighs clenching, body trembling beneath you. You didn’t stop. Slowed down, just enough to let her ride it out while you kissed her neck, whispered how proud you were of her.

When you finally pulled out, she collapsed into the sheets, dazed and breathless.

You kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw.

“You did so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She blinked up at you, a slow smile tugging at her lips.

“Didn’t know I could feel that good…” she whispered.

You pulled her into your arms, held her close, fingers stroking through her damp hair.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Vi—

Vi lives for physical tension. One moment you’re straddling her lap after a sparring match, catching your breath—and the next you’re shifting just a little too slowly, grinding down against her abs, pretending it's unintentional.

She smirks immediately, that low rasp in her voice making your stomach flip. “That feel good, sweetheart?" Her hands settle on your hips like second nature.

Her abs tense under you, and you feel every movement as she flexes slightly, just to tease. She's letting you have control—until she doesn’t.

Vi’s not shy. If you keep going, she’ll grip your thighs tighter and lean in, her breath against your neck “If you want something, say it.”

Jinx—

With Jinx, it’s a game. Everything’s play. You might start grinding on her abs during one of her manic energy bursts, and she just laughs—until she realizes you’re serious.

Her whole body goes still, her eyes widening a little before she grins that wicked grin. “Oh? Getting bold now, huh?” She’s impressed.

Her core is deceptively strong from all the climbing and chaos she does—your slow grind makes her breath hitch, and that’s all the encouragement you need.

She giggles through her blush, arms behind her head. “Keep going… let’s see how long I can stay still.”

Caitlyn—

Caitlyn is not used to being teased physically like this, so the moment you straddle her—pretending it’s innocent—and start moving against her toned stomach? She's shook.

Her cheeks flare pink almost immediately, but she doesn’t stop you. Her hands hover at your hips like she doesn’t know if she should push you back or pull you closer.

“You’re being very… bold today, darling.” she says, voice a bit shaky but eyes locked to yours, trying to maintain composure.

Once she regains control, though? She lets her hands drop to your thighs, steadying you. “Is this what you needed?” Her voice lowers—cool and breathy.

Ambessa—

Grinding against Ambessa Medarda is like pressing into a statue of war—pure, unrelenting power. Her body doesn’t move unless she lets it.

You shift in her lap, slow and deliberate, feeling every hard ridge of her core, her arm casually thrown across the back of the couch like she’s entirely unaffected… but her eyes burn.

“Keep going,” she says coolly, voice like smoke. “Let’s see how much you can handle before you beg me to touch you.”

She watches you with a hawk’s intensity—savoring the way your breath stutters and your thighs tighten. She won't move. She doesn't need to move—she owns the room, and soon, she’ll own you too.

Sevika—

You’re sitting on her lap, straddling her, just messing around… until you shift your hips a little too slow. You feel it immediately—how solid and unyielding her core is beneath you. Her metal arm rests lazily on the back of the chair, and her living hand curls around your thigh.

“The hell do you think you’re doin’, princess?” Her tone is low, rough—half warning, half interested. She doesn’t stop you, though. Not ehen close.

You grind a little harder—slow and deliberate—and you feel her abs tighten under you. She’s letting it happen, testing you, eyes locked on yours like a predator watching its prey. A smirk starts curling on her lips.

"You think you’re in control?” she rasps, letting her thumb trace the inside of your thigh. “Keep goin’. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

The grind becomes a power play—you trying to push her, and her just taking it, unmoved and unshaken until she finally growls and grabs your hips, slamming you down harder. “Alright, sweetheart,” she murmurs against your ear, “you asked for it."

Tw: strap-on sex, size kink, overstimulation, begging, brat taming, ruined orgasms, daddy kink (a lil), marking, hair pulling, filthy talk, power play.

Vi–

Vi wears the harness like it was made for her. Thick, black leather. Buckles tight. And the strap? Heavy. Veiny. Big.

She grins like the devil when you gasp seeing it. “What’s wrong, babe? I thought you liked a challenge.”

She doesn’t ease in — she presses the tip to your entrance, grabs your throat, and whispers, “Take a deep breath.”

Then she thrusts, slow but deep, stretching you until you’re clinging to her biceps and gasping her name like a prayer.

“That’s it,” she grunts, fucking you with steady rhythm. “So fuckin’ tight. Can’t even take all of it, huh?”

Slaps your ass and thrusts harder when you whine. “You’ll learn, sugar. Daddy’s got time.”

You lose count of how many times she makes you come. And she doesn’t stop.

“C’mon. You said you could take it. Let me see you cry.”

Caitlyn–

Caitlyn’s strap is elegant — sleek, deep violet, maybe even monogrammed. Because of course.

She fucks you in front of a mirror. She wants you to watch yourself fall apart.

“Spread wider,” she murmurs, as she lines herself up behind you. “I want to see you take every inch.”

Her thrusts are slow, cruelly precise. She hits your g-spot like she mapped your body.

She wraps her hand around your throat and forces your gaze up to the mirror.

“Look at yourself. Dripping. Writhing. You’re humiliating yourself for my cock.”

You cry when you come. She kisses your temple and keeps going until your legs shake and give out.

“Oh no, darling,” she purrs, pulling you back up. “You don’t get to lie down yet.”

Sevika–

Sevika wears the thickest strap she can find — and she’ll pin you to the mattress like you owe her rent.

“Face down,” she growls. “Ass up.”

She spits on it before sliding in. You moan. She smirks. “Nasty little slut.”

Sevika doesn’t make love — she fucks. Deep, brutal thrusts that punch the air from your lungs.

Her metal arm grips your hips so hard it leaves marks.

“Scream for me,” she commands, voice rough. “Let the whole block know who’s ruining you.”

You sob. You squirt. You beg.

She laughs. “You’re addicted to this cock, aren’t you?”

When you collapse, she kisses your shoulder and mutters, “Next round’s with the double-ended one. Don’t pass out yet.”

Ambessa Medarda–

Ambessa doesn’t just strap in — she owns it. Gold accents, regal leather, the kind of toy that costs more than your rent.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back. Good.”

She starts slow — lets you beg for it. Trails the tip along your folds until you’re shaking.

“So desperate,” she murmurs. “You’ll behave now, won’t you?”

Then she slides in with one stroke. You scream.

Ambessa fucks you with her hand wrapped in your hair, her voice in your ear.

“You’ll come when I say. Not before.”

She holds you on the edge, makes you earn every orgasm. One eyebrow raised, amused at your pathetic little whimpers.

When you finally break, coming so hard you sob, she smiles and kisses your tears.

“Beautiful,” she whispers. “Now clean it up with your tongue.”

Katarina–

(Adding her, cause i want her)

Kat’s the one who smirks while strapping in — eyes blazing, red hair wild.

“I don’t do soft,” she says, climbing on top of you. “You want this? You take it.”

She rides you first — grinding the strap against your core until you’re soaked and needy, begging for more.

Then she flips you over and fucks you like an enemy. Rough. Fast. Unrelenting.

She chokes you with one hand and slaps your thigh with the other.

“Look at this hole. You were made for my cock.”

She doesn’t stop until you’re drooling into the sheets, barely able to move.

“That’s what I thought,” she mutters, pulling out with a wet pop. “Now lie still. I’m not done yet.”