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madaqueue · 4 months ago

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LIKE WE WERE MADE TO

of course your doting boyfriend satoru cares about you - he walks you to work every morning, packs your lunches, makes you tea every night before bed. he'd do anything for you, so of course he'll help you with your heat.

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!f!reader

themes/content: dark content (omegaverse). smut. heats, fingering, knotting, light dumbification, satoru being a little lovesick. (wk: 1.3k)

a/n: YAYYY happy quintober everyone >:) here's my contribution for the @ficsforgaza kinktober event, so excited to be a part of this and check out the link below for more works under this project! view my full kinktober masterlist and the google form for signup to be tagged in other works too! hope you all enjoy :3

quintober masterlist | sign up form | ffg kinktober

Satoru had no idea what to expect as he ran home through the crowded streets; since reading your brief text of ‘Come home. Need you.’ the alarm bells sounding in his head had failed to quiet. He prepared for the worst, scenarios racing through his mind. Were you hurt?

As he barrels through your front door, he certainly doesn’t expect what lays behind it: you, sprawled out naked on the couch, flushed cheeks and sweating, two fingers buried deep inside your cunt.

“What’s going on-”

The sentence dies in his throat as his entire body tenses. Something new hangs in the air, something sending his every sense into overdrive. Almost sickeningly sweet, with an unmistakable, carnal need.

Your heat.

“‘Toru,” you breathe out - even his name on your tongue sounds different, an unfamiliar desperation dripping from it, “need you, now.”

In an instant he’s by your side, your scent growing exponentially stronger with each step he takes until it begins to cloud his own thoughts, overcome with his body’s innate desire to care for you, to care for his omega.

He’s never seen you like this - in your time dating, your suppressants had done their job; maybe that’s why you barely noticed when they ran out last week. Just a few hours ago he was walking hand-in-hand with you to work, your eyes glimmering as you told him about your plans for the day. Something about a big meeting with supervisors? He was honestly a bit distracted by the way your thumb drew circles along his skin, the new perfume he thought you were wearing, how pretty you looked all bundled up in your coat and scarf, like a little present waiting to be unwrapped - before you lightly smacked the back of his head.

“Are you even listening to me, ‘Toru?”

“No,” he beamed.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stifle the smile spreading across your lips. Pressing a peck to his cheek, you turned on your heel with a small wave, your fingers dancing against the backdrop of the fall sky.

You always knew how to handle him - that was something he admired about you. He knew his personality easily veered into chaos, and yet you never seemed bothered by it, holding him in your palms and keeping him a stable shape. It took strength to do that, to not let his soul blend the edges of your own.

And yet, now, his strong, independent girlfriend has become nothing more than a sweet, desperate mess. The thought makes his teeth ache.

“Please,” the broken mewl pulls him back to the sweetness surrounding you as you continue pumping your fingers in and out.

Before he can choke out a response, your hands begin hastily removing his clothes, tugging off anything you can grab, palms sweaty against his torso as you unzip his uniform. With a harsh tear, his shirt falls to shreds on the floor, muscles rippling beneath. He was never known for his patience, after all - could you blame him?

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, climbing on top of you so his thighs straddle your body, sinking into the cushions. “I’m here, m’gonna take good care of you.”

Two lanky fingers collect the slick pooling at your entrance as his free hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling your palm from between your legs. He holds it above your head, leaning forward and blanketing you in his warmth. A wave of pleasure crashes over you as he slides inside, curling his fingertips towards that spot only he seems able to reach.

But it’s not enough.

“More, ‘Toru, please, need more,” you whine, your hips bucking up involuntarily. The words continue spilling into the air, desperate pleas for what you really need, what only he can give you.

“Okay, just - fuck - gimme a second.” And he’s panting already, the biological drive within him threatening to take over, to pin you down and fuck you until you’re nothing more than a limp little mess beneath him. But he’s better than that.

Right?

It takes every ounce of control to align his tip with your core and stay there for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the stretch as he knows you would want him to, but it’s made all the more difficult with your hands weakly grasping at his hips in an attempt to pull him forward.

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” you babble, “pleaaaseee-aaaahhh.”

When his cock finally enters you, all your nerves alight in flames. Your vision goes white, eyes rolling back as he fills you up. Exactly what you needed. For a moment, everything stills, returning to your senses as his own musky scent begins mingling in the air with yours.

The brief clarity lets you pick up on the prettiest little whines falling from his lips at the way you envelop him so perfectly, two souls made for one another.

In only a few thrusts he’s sweating, his body sticking to yours with each push and pull of his pelvis. It’s hot, impossibly hot, both of your cheeks flushed and gasping for air. When his lips meet yours, it’s imprecise and messy, breathing into each other’s mouths as your tongues meld. He tastes like sugar and desire and love and cinnamon, like some dessert you were denied as a child for fear it would give you a tummy ache. But now, it’s the only thing satiating you, the only thing you can stomach.

“M’gonna make you feel better,” he’s mumbling into you, “gonna fuck you so good.”

“Only you, ‘Toru,” you babble, and you’re just as gone as he is, “has to be you.”

There’s truth to it, of course - only he could quell the growing ache inside you. Only your alpha. Your bodies were made for this, you realize: with each increasingly rough thrust, he hits every spot inside you so perfectly, and as your walls begin to flutter around him, you squeeze him in just the way that has him losing the last remaining shreds of his sanity.

Each beat of his heart echoes through his ears, overshadowing the wet squelches of your cunt around him and the lewd slapping of his balls against your ass. All he knows is you - his sweetheart, his other half, his omega.

As he ruts into you, something hot and thick begins coiling in his stomach, something unfamiliar, but the words are engraved into his soul as he slurs, “gonna take my knot f’me, yeah? ‘S’gonna help, okay?”

Teary eyes blink up at him, glossed over in pleasure as you nod. “Need it, please,” you whimper. Your mouth forms the word on pure instinct, “Alpha.”

And that’s all it takes to make him snap.

With a broken cry of your name, he releases into you.

The sensation of his cock twitching sends you over the edge, the heat in your chest burning brighter and brighter and brighter until it’s all you can feel.

As you come down from your high, there’s a new pressure in your core - you feel so, so fucking full.

His cum swells inside you as he cautiously adjusts his body weight. Pink cheeks and blue eyes find your gaze and he gives you a weak chuckle, met with your own equally fucked-out grin as you brush sweat-slicked hair from his forehead.

It takes effort to slow his breathing enough to speak, enough to think. “Your first heat with me,” he muses to himself. His heart warms at the thought: now he can take care of you in the way he was made to. “Love you s’much, baby,” he hums, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips before nuzzling into your neck, softly breathing in the warm scent.

“Love you, too.” Your fingertips slowly scratch his undercut, the haze now clearing enough that you swear you hear him purr. Your cunt involuntarily clenches around him - around his knot - as you gently run your nails down his back. His body melds perfectly around yours. “Alpha.”

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teastyun · 7 months ago

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༻ pound town

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

a/n: i'm going to war (exam phase is about to start), therefore i must make haste (my hiatus starts again). also, i got a new job so i'm not sure when my hiatus will end :(

pt. 1 ; masterlist

grabbing the broom from the back of your mechanics shop, you start you usual closing routine as the streets of Zaun more active as the day ends. growing up in Zaun, you appreciate the livelihood of the people, but grew wary of the criminality rising abruptly at the end of each day. enforcers started to patrol the quiet streets of Zaun and hang up missing posters of Jinx, who you've been visited by for several occasions over the last few months for tech equipment she required. you grew fond of the girl and would occasionally even slip a few extra pieces, and she would thank you proudly by telling you about her latest new technological improvements.

one time, she told you about a prosthesis as her newest invention. Sevika immediately came to your mind and the way she held your cheek the last and first time you saw her. or the way her bionic arm held your hips so strongly as you rode her strap. shit, you really are down bad for this woman who doesn't even know your name.

as several months gone by since then, you managed to gather your savings and invest it into your shop for new techs and products to sell. you were finally able to call your shop your full time job and scrap your shifts at the brothel completely. Sevika didn't only save your shop, but she saved you from drowning in exhaustion as the only thing you ever did was work day and night.

you hoped to see her again, but your hope was slowly scarped as each month passed by.

after sweeping the last corner of your shop, you only had to rearrange your products before you could finally leave to go home. as you tidied the screws collection, the door to your shop opened audibly by your crystals dangling from the person entering.

"we're closed-" you start, but stop as you see the person at the entrance.

there she was, standing in her usual cloak and a hood that hid her face, but you recognised her nonetheless. she took her hood off with a smile as she looked at you. "good to see you again."

suddenly, you felt naked again. although she knew your identity (prolly even the whole time), the mask would hide your facial expressions and reactions. now, you are standing there with a shocked impression written on your face, unsure of how to react to the person that is the reason for your shop to still be alive.

"i see you created something out of this shop since the last time I've seen you," she speaks with a soft smile on her lips as she takes a look around in your shop. "thank you. you were actually a huge help last time we've seen each other," you respond, your hands linked together behind your back as you turn to look around your shop.

honestly, your shop is quite shady from outside with its half-broken broken neon sign spelling the name mechs n' treasures. but once you enter, you quickly realise that it's a one man's business by it's intricate appearance. it has so much personality now that you have as much time as you'd like to spent in it, decorating it with your favourite things you've collected over the years that weren't too precious to be displayed in your small flat above your shop. a few colourful crystals dangle around your entrance and the door to your flat, reflecting the neon lights from the streets of Zaun onto the mechanic pieces you sell. tidiness is your top priority, since it's hard to keep such an old shop neat and clean. you love your old and shady, but precious personal shop and wouldn't wish it to be any different. business seemed to be booming recently, too. you had no idea why, but Zaun is a quick and fast learning city with its advantages and disadvantages, resulting in people visiting your shop to buy the pieces they require for their newest project.

now, Sevika is standing in the centre of your shop, taking one of the mechanical pieces into her hands and looking at it in detail.

"can i help you with something?" you ask, looking at her with curiosity. after she puts the mechanic piece back into its tray, she says "I was hoping you could me out with this."

she reveals her bionic arm, where you see the its shimmer capsules completely shattered. surprised, you walk towards her and take her bionic arm into her hand to have a closer look. you inhale her smoky scent and suddenly were confronted with a vivid memory of the first night you guys met at the brothel, as you sat in her lap writhing under her touch. focus. you twisted a few pieces to inspect the reachability of the broken capsules. "I assume you won't be able to take it off?" you ask her, your eyes still fixed on an odd piece you've found.

she shakes her head, "it would be a hazard trying to put it on afterwards. do you think you'll still manage to repair, though?"

after twisting the last few pieces for inspection, you leave her arm. "shouldn't be no issue," you take a look at your wristwatch and notice how late it already is. a few extra minutes won't hurt, you decide.

you nod towards the counter, "take a seat, i'll be right with you."

entering the back of your shop and take a big breath. fuck, this intimidating woman still effects you after several months. at this point, you were sure you even forgot about her.

you grab your toolbox and head to Sevika, who is waiting for you behind your counter on a chair. her cloak is thrown over your register's desk, revealing a similar outfit you saw at the brothel. only now you realise how muscular this woman actually is. her arm is almost fully exposed by her sleeveless top and a choker around her neck makes you shake off your dirty thoughts.

you place the toolbox on the counter before you take a seat next to it. Sevika watches every move of yours, making you even more nervous than you already are.

grabbing your first tool, you lay her arm in you lap and start unscrewing the plates that cover the isolation of the shimmer capsules. her arm felt heavy, but oddly warm in your lap for the fact that it's broken. you remember how the same arm pinned you down on her strap a few months ago.

your brain is almost about to malfunction if Sevika wouldn't have interrupted your thoughts, "so, how is your shop going?" she asks as she leans the side of her upper body on the counter. when you look down at her, she's only mere centimetres away from your face. her grey eyes digging into yours. your pussy clenches as your breathing stops at the sight of her. you quickly look away and focus on her arm again. "it's going well," you start and grab for another tool to remove the shattered pipes. "sometimes it's exhausting to handle a shop alone, but you get used to it, you know."

her eyes follow your movements on her arm while she hums as an indication for you to continue. "once, a dude i recognised from the brothel came to pick up a few things and i couldn't help but wonder what his day job is. he was a sex worker as well, so he probably even recognised me," you tell her. it's unusual for you to share thoughts and memories of your old job. you weren't ashamed of it, but you much happier spending your time in your own shop and not thinking back to your old routine.

she shifts in her seat to look up at you, "i'm glad you were able to escape that shit hole, beautiful," she says quietly, careful of the words she chooses, "do you still remember that night?"

your movements halt immediately at her questions and you felt her eyes laying heavily on you, watching every single movement. the way you took a deep breath, trying not to appear nervous around her. the mere thought of that night made you feel butterflies in your stomach and wetness in your core.

"i do," you confess. without meeting her eyes, you continue your maintenance on her bionic arm in your lap, trying to suppress the urge of jumping into her lap and kissing her senseless. "do you?" you ask in almost a whisper, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer.

when she didn't, your eyes travelled to hers in question. she seemed to be in deep thoughts as well before she asked "how couldn't i?"

her eyes finally meet yours and you recognise such sincerity and trust in them, you couldn't help the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips.

"you were the only thing on my mind in this cruel world," she continues, making you feel several things at once. "and i don't even know your name."

you chuckled and referred your eyes back to your almost finished work, concentrating on exchanging the pipes.

"so, you're not even going to tell me?" she asks amused.

"what, my name?" you act oblivious, knowing exactly what she wanted. now it was her turn to chuckle at your teasing. "you can be a pain in the ass, you know that?"

you shake your head in disbelief with a smile on your lips as you screw on the last iron plate on her arm.

"move it," you command and she obliges. she moves her joints, making the shimmer that was left in her tank fuel her new pipe, while moving it a few more times in several directions. you've never seen machinery working with shimmer so closely. you wonder how the metal felt like against your skin.

ripping you out of your trance, she stands up. right in front you, almost between your legs, which you desperately wanted to close at the sight as you felt your pussy clench.

"thank you," she looks at you, her eyes wandering from your neck down to the rest of your body. it's like she can't help herself, checking you out as you sit on her cloak next to your work instruments.

"you even look beautiful in your casual attire," she whispers as her eyes meet yours again.

"so," you wrap your index finger through her choker, "how about taking it off and see what's hidden underneath?" you cock your head before you pull her closer. your legs are opened by her thighs between them as she looks down at you, clearly surprised by your boldness. "i don't fuck nameless girls," she says in an equal tone to her low chuckle.

you take a quick look at her lips, wondering what they would feel like on yours. "didn't seem so last time we've seen each other."

your finger is still wrapped around her chocker as you grin. she didn't answer. she knows you're messing with her.

she places her arms on each of your sides, the sounds of her bionic arm moving leaving a shudder throughout your body. she's dangerously close.

"if i remember correctly, last time you've fucked yourself, princess."

shocked by her comment, your grin fades as you suddenly remember how you rode her in that brothel, eagerly chasing your orgasm as she guided you through it.

you let go of her choker and rest your hand at the back of her neck instead, caressing the soft strands of brunette hair as you try to maintain yourself.

"y/n," you whisper. Sevika's eyes widen at first, but a slight grin sets on her lips at the sound of your name.

"beautiful name, princess," she whispers back and you feel her breath on your lips with each sound she speaks.

you close your eyes as you feel her full lips grazing yours. "y/n," she whispers repeatedly. her lips finally touch yours, first cautiously but confident after a few seconds of lingering. you copy her motions and gasp when her tongue grazes your lower lip.

pressing her more firmly against yourself, you part your lips for her tongue to enter. she faintly tastes like cigarettes, but more of a harsh liquor you can't really pinpoint. your arms cling desperately around her neck, feeling her torso pressed around yours in your heated kiss. you lock her against your core with your legs around her hips, moaning as she leaves your lips to leave kisses on your neck. "you have no idea how often i thought of kissing you," she whispers before she trails down kisses to your exposed shoulder and collarbone, licking the line of it and pressing soft bites against your sweet spots.

instead of responding, you pull her up again and lock your lips together. you press your lower body against her in search of the friction you desperately seek, but with no success. her lips form into a smirk against your lips as she realises what you're seeking.

frustrated, you separate yourself from her and motion for her to step aside, so you could jump of the counter. "i have a bed upstairs," you tell her. Sevika stands there confused, but god does she look hot. her lips are glazed from your spit and her hair looks slightly tousled from your hand that clung to it.

she doesn't let you move, though. instead, her hands are pressed firmly on your side as she still stand between your legs. "i thought that might be more comfortable..." you say, unsure of the current situation. she shifts in her stance to let you stand up.

"fuck, yes. i mean, yes, let's go upstairs," she chuckles after stumbling over her own words and her bionic arm moves to gesture you to lead the way. you laugh at her sudden awkwardness but go ahead to lock up your shop.

walking up the stairs, you fumble for your home's keys. Sevika followed you closely behind, touching your waist and kissing your neck as you try to unlock the door, a sigh escapes your lips as you try to unlock your door.

as the door closes behind you, she pins you against it. her hand holds your wrist against the door as she kisses you feverishly. her bionic arm slips beneath your ass to lift you up, so you could wrap your legs around her hips. you press your breasts against her, trying to seek for any further touches. "the bed, Sev," you say between kisses, too occupied to actually resist her touch.

she ignores your words and losses her grip on your wrists instead to wander to the buttons of your shirt, never breaking the kiss. "patience, beautiful," she whispers as her lips leave yours to press a kiss on your cheek. "we have all night, right?"

your arms find their way back around her neck, playing with her loose hair. "please," you respond, your eyes making contact with hers. you peck her lips before you say, "i want to touch you, too."

her head falls onto your shoulder as she groans, "you make me loose my composure so easily," before looking back into your eyes with need and desperation "do you realise that?"

you grin at her confession and kiss her hot and wet, moaning into the kiss as she continues to unbutton your shirt until your bra is exposed to her hand. she grazes the outlines with her fingertips, making a shudder run through your body as you gasp. you press your chest into her touch and she gladly responds with cupping your breast while biting your lower lip.

her index finger grazes your puffy nipple through your bra and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

she pecks you one last time with a smile, before looking around your small flat, seemingly inspecting your small setup where your bedroom and living room are combined to your cozy grove.

her hand moves to your back, stabilising you in her arms before she finally heads to your bed to lay you down on it, watching you as you lay there with your undone shirt and the few strands that escaped your hairstyle completely wordless.

similar to her, you exhale at the sight in front of you. Sevika is still fully clothed, so you pull her down by her collar to kiss her hard, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her body on top of you. "take this off," she whispers against your lips, her bionic hand gripping your shirt as her hand sneaks behind your neck to tilt your head for her to suck.

she kisses and bites your sweet spot, disrupting your motion of pulling your shirt off and making your eyes roll back in pleasure. you moan her name in frustration before she finally let's go.

"this too," she tells you as she eyes every little detail on your torso. when you take your bra off, her bionic hand cups your breast. the sharp and cold details of her metallic hand exposed on one of your most sensitive parts of your body leave you breathing hard, moaning as her pointy fingers pinch and twist your nipple. "you have no idea how often i thought of touching them since that night," her eyes are not leaving your chest as she confesses.

"you could've touched them that night," you respond, your hand finding the back of her head as you play with her small ponytail. after hearing your words she looks at you, almost with a shocked expression on her face. "there's no way i would have touched you without your consent," she tells you. surprised by this sudden turn, you move up to rest your weight on your elbows, looking at her in disbelief. "but you payed for that night with me," you state, still confused by what she just said.

she's just as surprised as you, cupping your cheek softly as she spoke, "y/n, i would never do anything to you without your consent. do you know that?" she asks you, her eyes never leaving yours as she spoke. you've never experienced any sex partner expressing their respect to you verbally. and fuck, this is probably the moment you realise you have feelings for this woman in front of you. you nod in response, still overwhelmed from your thoughts and feelings. she smiles at you as she says, "good girl."

your soaking pussy almost purred at that nickname. kissing her quick but softly, you grind your clothed hips against hers as you kiss a trail down her neck to her exposed collarbone.

she exhales heavily at your motions before saying, "tell me what you want, beautiful."

"i want you to fuck me," you respond after hesitating, still nibbling at her collarbone as a soft moan escapes her.

"with this," you continue as you grind stronger onto her clothed cunt than before.

her bionic arm holds herself on the bed as her fingers trace your curves. "with my fingers?" she teases as she opens your trousers with her other hand slowly.

your lips move up to her ear, licking and biting her soft skin. "no," you whisper, "with this."

you press the seam of her jeans with your fingers against her clit, making her grip your hips hard from your sudden touch. "fuck," she mutters in response, clearly trying to compose herself before she continues to fully undress you.

"under one condition," she starts as she takes in your naked body with hungry eyes, "i'll have a taste before i fuck you," she unbuttons her shirt, revealing a dark bandeau bra beneath. she's in a hurry, so she won't bother to take off her unbuttoned shirt, but moves on by removing her jeans as well as underwear in one go.

you try to take a peek at her body, but she immediately kneels between your legs to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, dragging her motions slowly to your soaking pussy as her hands hold you firm beneath her touch. feeling her breath on your clit, you whine from sensitivity, gripping the sheets beneath you as she finally tastes you for the first time.

both of you moan from the touch, your hips stutter beneath her strong hands. she eats you out like a starving woman, humming at the sounds you're making. your clit is circled by her tongue as she softly bites and sucks before your legs start shaking from the pleasure that builds up in your lower belly.

she moves her arm from your thigh to press softly against it, realising how close you are. "come on my tongue," she tells you, intensifying her motions as you come hard. the way you moan her name sounds similar to a scream, your thighs pressing against her head as you throw your head back in pleasure.

she gently guides you through it by licking in decreasing motions, careful of your sensitivity. as your calming down, she kisses your clit one last time before she straightens herself to watch you after your first high.

her lips and chin are glistening from her pussy and strands that were originally framing her face now hang loosely. "you did so well, beautiful," she whispers, climbing on top of you to press kisses into your face. "fuck, you really sent me to another dimension," you confess, laughing a litte at the absurdity. she chuckles at your words, grinning as she examines your face.

"are you still down for another round?" she asks carefully, giving you the space you might need, but you nod as you smile at her. she kisses you before she straightens again to manhandle your legs, placing one on her shoulder as she moves her own over your other to align with your pussy, not starting just yet. she caresses the long on her shoulder as she presses kisses along with it.

she looks absolutely breathtaking while doing it. you feel her pussy kissing yours, and fuck, she's driving you crazy. the unbuttoned shirt exposes the abs you eyed earlier through the tightness of her shirt. her v-line is deeply defined, even more when she starts to slowly grind against you. her pointy bionic fingers suddenly press into your thigh as she gasps from the pleasure she suddenly receives. her grey eyes watch you heavily, making sure you're alright with her pace as she slowly picks it up.

"you feel so good," you whimper as you meet her motions by copying hers, crying from the sensitivity from your earlier orgasm. "fuck- i'm close again."

she grins at your confession, pushing herself harder on your clit as you cry out from the friction. she's mostly quiet, but a gasp escapes her lips anytime you improve your speed.

"come with me, y/n" she leans down, kissing you with so much passion as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. you moan into the kiss, your breasts moving with each thrust as your nipples graze against the cotton of her bandeau. you felt your orgasm creeping, but you weren't ready for the intensity it comes with. you cry out against her lips, holding her against you as you feel her groaning from her own orgasm. both your hips stutter in your motions before you stop to look at her.

her head rests in the nape of your neck and the only thing you feel is her hot breath against your skin. as you untangle your legs, you kiss on the side of her head. "are you alright?" you ask after several seconds of silence.

she vaguely nods, still maintaining her breath before she answers "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

you smile as you caress her hair through your fingers. "i'd love to figure it out in the future," you continue, making space between your faces so you could look at her as you speak. "this idea you've just mentioned," you clarify as she looks at you speechless.

she kisses you passionately after a few seconds, smiling as she realises what you were suggesting.

"let me take you to dinner after your shift tomorrow?" she asks as her thumb trails your cheekbone. you nod, kissing her on the cheeks before you answer "gladly."

you both fall asleep, and sooner or later date nights with Sevika become your favourite traditions as you two engage in a passionate, but intimate relationship with each other.

tags: @sevsbaby @womenathleteshaveme @macaroni676

masterlist

#➶ jules' anthology #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #sevika smut #sevika imagine #wlw #queer #lesbian #sapphic #Spotify

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choochooboss · 3 months ago

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Submas Sketchdump Vol. 4 July 2022 Part 2!!

I knew that particular month beat my all time record for productivity multifold but I had forgotten SO MANY PIECES from the original collection!! I think I finally got them all?? More stuff under the cut!!

BREAKMAS!! WIP of the first piece I posted of them, here's the link to the final version! I tried coloring this first but the black & white had ultimately more impact so I went with that!

TRAINS!! I like this base color version too! Link to the final version!

The top sketch is a direct reference to Cluedo! A spinoff game, "Missingo", starring certain familiar characters trying to figure out what happened to Ingo/trying to prove their innocence in the case! Also WIP sketches for these two Breakmas comic pages!

As you may know I adore butlermas! For the classy and stylish look which appeals to me in general, and coincidentally I had played PLA & got hit by submas train only one week before butler Ingo's banner rolled out! The pure bliss of finally meeting both twins in a game I felt was incomparable!! This moment in the Curious Tea Party event was really entertaining to me! We got to see submas get serious and stand up against this selfish collector thief! Two towering train twinks with commanding voices looming over the unfortunate guy was enough to make him change his mind ahah! They truly are the protectors

1-hour submas challenge prompt "Descend"! This is the actual one hour result before I continued rendering this!

Mmmmm not my first attempt at drawing them hug and definitely not my best OR last. I want to make that moment something very special when I finally go all out on it!!

Comic cover vibing~

The scrapped last page for this silly comic! Sorry the dialogue is all over the place on the first piece, might be hard to read! I wasn't happy with how I presented Elesa, I wasn't familiar enough with her character back then so I thought of her carrying a toy taser to threat her friend even as a joke was too much and I couldn't come up with anything else for it. This held me back from posting the other three pages for another 5 months! In the last panel

I prefer to not mess up the twins too much but my brain is still very curious and conjures some peculiar stuff like this sometimes.. I think I may have broken his arms there looking at the anatomy, ooops! I hope you don't mind the photo quality or the two weird guys in the corner, they escaped containment!

Idea of warden Ingo, being projected to modern era by his Alakazam, walking through crowd on a train platform & Emmet standing inside a passing train. Their eyes meet for just a few seconds...

Pokemas Ingo practise!

Another WIP of a piece I posted! I started this piece like this but then later I decided to flip the whole thing.

YET another WIP of something I already posted! No idea why I went and mixed up his suits but I like this sketch! They rarely end up looking this clean haha

Sketch version of the self-defense practise piece! I love getting creative with action stuff! I barely ever think of how difficult they are to draw, I just get so excited and fixated on visualising the scenes in my mind I just keep at it, pull out refs and pose in front of mirrors until it looks good to me! I want to draw more action scenes but besides being challenging to draw my brain comes up with more silly and cute ideas than cool ones unfortunately ahah

One more WIP, here's the link to the final results!! I really like how genuine their expressions look here even if the faces are a little off. I recall spending a long time figuring out this perspective. I thought it would be fun to you to see how all these pieces started and... looking at the sketch above and the stuff before that, you can compare some range of my style!

RANDOM SUBMAS MISSILES GO

OHHH looks like some nasty passengers got the best of them!! If I recall correctly there was no fight because they managed to paralyse the two before they could act. Fully awake yet completely helpless... how convenient unfortunate. Thank you so much for checking these out!! Not every sketch is that exciting but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on these!

Previous posts: Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

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recoord · 5 months ago

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Staying neutral until Neil Gaiman is convicted by the courts?

Second attempt to express my thoughts on the matter. The first time, my wording was not the best and it needed to be fact checked so here there is a summarized attempt. Thank you to everyone who pointed it out.

Using "neutrality" to remain sceptical to the allegations is not as good as an idea as it seems.

Many have shown scepticism because of the medium, The Tortoise podcast, used to publish most of the accusations. I've found many don't know there's a second podcast that published one of the women's allegations: Am I Broken: Survivor Stories Podcast. A podcast made by a non-binary licensed clinical mental health counselor specializing in sexual trauma. The link for the podcast is here and the link for the transcript here. [Credits for the transcript to Ersatz Haderach].

Personally, I think you shouldn't discard the allegations just for the medium chosen, they're still valid. But, there’s a second podcast and Claire's allegations there help to amplify the other victims's voices. If you haven't read or listened to any of the allegations, that could be a good start.

Ignoring that information and testimonies exist is far from being neutral. Learn about the allegations before choosing "neutrality".

It's important to notice that in cases like the ones exposed by the women's allegations against Gaiman, "Neutrality" is already biased in favor of the accused.

Waiting for a formal sentence for Gaiman to start believing in the victims is choosing to blindly trust a corrupt system. It also sounds like if you weren't conscious enough of the many problems that rape victims face in the justice system.

I've found an interesting report on the matter with information about how justice fails victims . Here are some important points:

Why the legal justice fails rape survivors?

According to a report made by Centre for Women’s Justice, the End Violence Against Women Coalition, Imkaan and Rape Crisis England & Wales.(2020):

Obstacles to conviction

- "In the vast majority of (adult) rape cases, the defendant will accept that sexual intercourse took place, and it is only the element of ‘consent’ that is in dispute, or – put another way – whether a reasonable person would characterise what happened as consensual or non-consensual."

"Given the sexual nature of the offence, it will often take place in private, the complainant and defendant (or defendants) being the only persons present."

"There are very rarely any eye-witnesses to the offence itself, able to corroborate either the complainant or the defendant’s account as to what has unfolded. Indeed, there will more often be no independent evidence at all which corroborates the complainant’s account as to the circumstances of the sexual encounter. At best, there may be circumstantial evidence which supports what the complainant is saying: evidence which, for example, provides a picture of the complainant’s physical or mental state before and/or after the attack; or there may be evidence which is broadly supportive of her credibility, or undermines the suspect’s credibility."

- Even in ‘better’ periods, rape cases have always posed very significant challenges for prosecutors. While volumes of convictions have fluctuated over the years, the rate of convictions for rape has invariably been lower than in most other areas of crime."

-“it has been widely accepted by criminal justice bodies that many members of the public continue to believe in long-standing ‘myths and stereotypes’ relating to rape, which do not correspond with reality, result in disbelief of victims/survivors, and are now outdated in the eyes of the law.”

- “When a victim/survivor’s credibility is considered so fundamental to winning a rape or serious sexual offences trial, those who do not fit the ‘mould’ of a credible victim – because of their age, their outward presentation, their social skills, a disadvantaged background, or a learning mental health disability – are the least likely to see justice served.”

- “Whenever the profile of rape victims/survivors and their poor treatment by the criminal justice system begins to receive the attention it deserves, there comes a backlash and a rise in public concern regarding the fate of the ‘falsely’ accused.”

I recommend reading the whole report for further information.

Don't choose "neutrality" as an excuse to hide your bias, listen to the victims. There is a lot of information out there. Many patterns are repeated among victims who, before the allegations were made public, thought they were the only person who experienced the same thing, with Gaiman as the common denominator.

If you want to add something, feel free to do it.

#neil gaiman allegations #neil gaiman #tw rape #tw sa #believe victims #stand with the victims #I had to erase my last blog due to e mail problems - I hope this time the e mail works so I can keep this blog standing unu #good omens

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sp0o0kylights · 3 months ago

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Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better.

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood.

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman.

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters.

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children.

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting.

This was about their relationship with Harrington.

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache.

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted.

That makes him easy to take advantage of.

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip.

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him!

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry.

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there.

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well.

Eddie was here to break it.

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit.

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks.

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees.

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing. “What are you--hey!”

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house.

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue.

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--”

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day.

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall.

It doesn’t take long to find the kid.

Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame.

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font.

(Baking puns. Disgusting.)

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen.

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding.

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?”

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen.

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles.

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes.

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here.

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple.

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”

He cuts himself off with a hiss, eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt.

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.”

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie.

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!)

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.”

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers.

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,”

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.”

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.”

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest.

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!”

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.”

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb.

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.)

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment.

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona.

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.”

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes.

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?”

“Guys.”

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!”

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter.

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction.

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over.

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.)

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.”

“Steve--”

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.”

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him.

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury.

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style.

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink.

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine.

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit…

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that.

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.”

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach.

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.”

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!”

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.)

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely.

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things.

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here.

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.)

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,”

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?”

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice, already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it.

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help.

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once.

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.)

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?”

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even.

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…”

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating.

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely.

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does.

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house.

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest.

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly.

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!”

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked.

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth.

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen.

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine.

Typical.

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?”

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.”

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere.

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer.

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches.

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right…

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly.

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way.

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming.

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door.

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them.

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.)

He could leave now.

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give.

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?”

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud.

“What?”

Thank God for Harrington’s headache.

“You look terrible, man.” Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.”

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party.

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.”

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie.

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.”

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened.

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.)

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.”

Harrington grimaces.

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter.

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole.

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers.

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.)

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety.

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.”

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.”

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face.

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me, I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch.

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead.

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment.

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?”

“....are you offering me drugs?”

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket.

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?”

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it.

“How is that going to help?”

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.”

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount.

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him.

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning.

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him.

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja.

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.”

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.

“I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him.

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people.

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game.

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains.

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart.

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.”

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.”

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that.

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit.

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.”

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on.

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out.

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.)

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom.

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room.

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.”

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it.

Fucking rich people.

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.”

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed.

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers.

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute.

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.”

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie.

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.”

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having fun destroying one's own ego.

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had.

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed.

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom.

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist.

It freezes him in place.

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own.

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment.

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.

“Anytime, big boy.”

Anytime.

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it.

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday.

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days.

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington.

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life.

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices.

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer.

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking.

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well.

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.)

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe.

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy.

“Would you just let us in?”

“No.”

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.”

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.”

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily.

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness just isn’t cutting it anymore.)

“And why would I do that?”

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control.

Checking up on the guy was overkill.

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground.

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.”

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head.

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on.

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it.

Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces.

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning.

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly.

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.)

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not.

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh.

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread.

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday.

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one.

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.”

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe.

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead.

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!”

Which gets Eddie’s back right up.

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents.

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.”

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you.

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most.

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one.

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.”

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark.

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark.

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer.

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face.

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

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broodybuck · 4 months ago

Text

Title: Broken Rules

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, one-night stands, rough sex, plot what plot/porn without plot, no kissing rule

Summary: After you get dumped, you want to stick it to your ex with a no-strings-attached, filthy one-night stand. You find an attractive man sitting at the bar, he should do.

[ao3 link]

That's it, I'm having a one-night stand, you decide. You're adamant about the idea even though it's not typically your vibe. You like connection, you like relationships. But if your boyfriend can break up with you on your seven-month anniversary then you can have a fucking one-night stand.

You see him at the bar. The place is pretty dead since it's a Tuesday night so there are limited options. Still, you would label this guy as out of your league. Too hot for you. He has short brown hair, cheekbones straight out of Hollywood, and a sharp jawline to match. He's dressed in a tight leather jacket and dark jeans.

Normally, you wouldn't go for a guy like this. Because as much as you know your beauty, you're typically labeled in the cute category, the pretty category. But he's gorgeous, model-level.

You stride up to him as confidently as you can manage and claim the seat next to him. He lowers the drink from his mouth slowly, glancing over at you skeptically. He's probably wondering why you chose the barstool right next to him when there are about eight other ones open. To get in those tight pants of yours, you answer him in your mind.

You smile at him, glad you kept on the tight red dress that was meant for dinner with your ex tonight. He notices, his eyes scanning down as subtly as possible. You feel a flash of heat hit your cheeks. The thought of this stranger getting under your dress, having access to every inch of you, makes you feel insane and hot all over. But tonight is different. Tonight, you're having a one-stand stand with a handsome stranger.

You smooth your hand over the sleeve of his jacket. He tracks your movement like a hawk.

"What're you drinking?" you ask sweetly.

"Whiskey," he clears his throat.

He seems more thrown by this than you'd expect. You would have assumed he gets hit on constantly, has one-night stands by the plenty — wherever he cares to.

You signal the bartender over and order two shots. The man beside you keeps eyeing you quizzically. But when the shots arrive, he accepts the one you slide over to him. He downs the shot with you.

You smile, licking your lips as you mask the face you want to make from the bitterness burning your throat. He looks impressed. Good, you think, you're here to impress and get fucked.

"I've had a shitty night," you tell him. "Really looking for a distraction."

Your tone is hinting enough. His eyebrows lift with surprise. He turns his body toward you.

"Another?" he asks and you nod.

You both take another shot, then it feels much easier to ask if he lives nearby. He does and after staring him down, he invites you back.

He keeps a hand hovering over your lower back as you walk to his place. You only stumbled twice so it's really unnecessary but it's a sweet gesture, you suppose. He helps you up the stairs of his stoop by taking your hand. You thank him but remind yourself that tonight is meant to be dirty, quick — meaningless.

Inside his apartment, you decide another rule for tonight.

"No kissing," you tell him.

He looks so confused, it's honestly cute. The way his brows furrow so deeply and his mouth parts open. He looks like a lost puppy, begging to be kissed.

Stop it, you reprimand yourself. He's not cute. He's here to fuck you.

You march forward, grab onto his leather jacket, and yank it backward down his arms. He doesn't stop you, he seems aware of what's about to happen regardless of his prior confusion.

His face dips forward and then stops. He blinks, pressing his mouth tight, and you try to ignore the fact that he almost kissed you. Already. You move onto the belt of his jeans, prying it open along with the fly of his pants.

"Gonna make me do all the work?" you tease.

You yelp when he hooks your legs and instantly lifts you up in one quick motion. You wrap both arms around his neck and ignore your impulse to inhale his mouth hungrily.

He carries you to the bedroom and lays you down carefully on the bed. Your legs remain helpfully spread around his hips. He moves slowly now, more slowly than you'd like, as he glides both hands up your thighs. He pushes the hem of your dress up as he goes. This dress is so damn tight that it moves rigidly but he works it over your hips to reveal the lacy thong you're wearing.

He breathes in heavily, staring down at it. You flush warm again. He's so hot, you want him inside you. And you don't normally think something like that so quickly.

You reach out, instinctually moving to frame his face and drag him down into a kiss, but you stop yourself just in time. You still pull his face down but instead, move his mouth in between your thighs.

You hear him breathe sharply once more. Then he dives forward so quickly that you gasp when he tears the thin material of your thong with one hand. His mouth, his tongue, is on you the next moment. You suck in a moan, your thighs unintentionally squeezing together, but he holds them apart with his hands as his tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly. Next, he kisses it, mouths around your most sensitive area, and then sucks.

"Ooh god, yes," you cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

This was a damn good idea, you think, as you cry out again when he adds his thumb. Switching between his mouth and fingertip.

"Fuck, please," you pant.

He cruelly stops right then and sits back. The sight of his mouth glistening with your wetness makes you shiver. He reaches into his boxers and pulls himself out. He barely gives you a chance to get a good look before he's pushing inside of you.

His face hovers above yours as he bottoms out. He stares down at you, and you want to kiss him, but you need to stick to your dumb rule. This night means nothing, this night is only a fuck you to your ex.

He swallows, then his mouth stays open in a pout as he thrusts into you again. Your eyes squeeze shut, you grab onto him tightly.

Each thrust gains strength but he fucks you slowly. Ramming into you harder each time and stilling when he's buried inside of you as if for you to savor it. He's big which means each slam of his hips jolts you back on the bed and you feel yourself stretching to fit him each time.

His hands find your breasts now, cupping them in his hands, and his breath shakes. You find yourself amazed that he seems so taken with you. You're not sure your ex-boyfriend ever looked at you this way. Like you're an art piece he has to study, memorize.

He presses into you again. But this time when he draws back, he gives up the slow, hard pace and fucks you faster, steadily. It instantly makes your skin blaze, you pulse around him, your body hungry for him.

He groans, feeling it. He falls forward so close to your face, but his eyes snap shut. You hold him by the jaw, craving to close the space, but you refuse. He pushes forward and fucks you harder.

"Fuck, right there," you squeal.

He keeps himself there, fucking you right where you want it until you're too close.

"Yes—more—please," you whimper.

He grunts in your ear and doesn't stop. He grabs hold of your thighs, pushing your legs up, still plowing into you.

Then, you're coming so fast you can't think straight. It's never usually so abrupt, so intense. But you're levitating up, clambering to hold onto him as your body jolts and shakes with the shock of your orgasm flooding through you.

"God, god, ahhhhgn," you yell right in his ear but it doesn't phase him, he's still fucking you like his life depends on it, like you'll die if he doesn't prolong this orgasm for as long as humanly possible.

And it's so much. Waves of pleasure won't stop washing over you that when he plunges into you and groans brokenly, you're actually relieved that he's coming.

You're holding onto him so tightly, he doesn't pull out of you for a long time. He lies with you, breathing into your neck, warming your skin as you try to recover from your high.

And fuck, how was that so much better than the last seven months with your ex? Why haven't you been having more one-night stands, you wonder.

Finally, he sits up and looks at you.

"I'm Bucky, by the way," he smiles crookedly.

It's adorable, goddammit.

"I'm y/n."

"Don't hate me," he says and you're about to question what he means when he leans down and kisses you.

You don't hate him, far from it. You grab his face and devour his mouth, his tongue. You're desperate for it. You never thought you'd miss kissing so much. What a dumb, dumb rule.

You whine when he pulls back, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"That was torture," he huffs, "not kissing you."

You swallow thickly. "I didn't want tonight to mean anything."

He makes that endearingly confused face again but this time, it's mixed with discontent.

"My boyfriend just broke up with me," you explain quickly. "I was mad."

He slowly pulls out of you and backs away from you. You want to pull him back, not let him leave. He rolls next to you on the bed and lets out a long sigh.

"It's not you, that was… more amazing than it should've been," you confess.

He looks over at you and blinks, his face softening.

"Forget that guy," he says and rolls onto his side to caress the side of your face. "I'll make you forget about him... if you let me."

The offer is more tempting than it should be. This wasn't supposed to go anywhere. When you first saw him in the bar, you didn't even think he'd be interested.

"As long as I can kiss you," he adds.

You laugh unexpectedly because it sounds so ridiculous that this incredibly hot, well-endowed man not only wants to fuck you again but needs to be allowed to kiss you. And you want it all too. So much you need to laugh at how wrong... or right this night has gone.

You dive forward and kiss him. Through the elated breath he inhales, he sounds pleased and kisses you more deeply.

"Sorry for my dumb rule," you break to say. "Kiss me all night."

Bucky smiles and happily pulls you right back to his lips.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky/reader #bucky barnes x you

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matsunoluvr · 5 months ago

Text

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how you tamed monster!sylus…

warnings: descriptions of some violence, blood, injuries, rushed ending (lol)

character: sylus

link to master list here!!

author’s notes: i saw some theories that sylus is actually inhuman and i’d fucking love if in a past life MC resonated and ‘tamed’ him which is why he’s particularly fond of her, like i’m such a sucker for ‘inhuman’ things gaining humanity through love

my requests are open since i’m running low on ideas hehe :3

more under the cut!

monster!sylus was indifferent to everything at first, if you got hurt you got hurt. why would he feel anything?

he’d hurt many things before, killed many things before. such trivial matters did not bother him.

that was until, somehow he managed to get hurt.

watching you, a human, far more fragile than he could ever be panic over his wound was confusing for him.

the way you frantically dug in your bag to wrap his arm in gauze - his blood seeping into the pale cloth as he watches you, intrigued.

he could stop the bleeding at any moment, any time, but he doesn’t. instead, he opted to watch you flailing over his injury with a neutral expression.

only when he noticed his human form growing a little pale did he decide to stop blood flow to the wound, choosing to inspect the bandage you put on him carefully.

“What use is this?”

picking at the uncomfortable material, you scold him and tell him to ‘keep it on until it heals’ - monster!sylus decides not to tell you he already healed the site as soon as you finished fussing over him

the next time he got hurt, he decided not to heal himself and instead present his injury to you.

holding up his finger which was (basically) broken in half, he looked at you expectantly.

if you weren’t so utterly dumbfounded at the nonchalant manner in which he presented you with a severely mangled appendage you might’ve made a comparison to him and a cat looking at its owner after bringing them a dead rat

monster!sylus who proceeded to watch you freak out a little, fix him up then scold him (again) for being so reckless.

he was interested at the care you took to make it as painless as possible (it was safe to say you were terrible at it, he was trying not to wince the whole time. yeah he was a monster, but why are human bodies really fucking fragile and sensitive?), eyes flitting between your hands and your face

this was probably the first instances of sylus receiving care, being cared about, and holy shit he didn’t know what to do

monster!sylus that would inwardly sigh every time you’d ask him ridiculous questions such as “have you eaten today?” or “do you think the sunset today is pretty?”

half the time he would scoff or shrug it off, the other half he would respond

when he responded he noticed the excited buzz in your voice as you’d give your own opinion on it - something that he grew to care about

“What do you think of this flower, isn’t it pretty Sylus?”

“It is?”

“It is! At least to me- [insert you talking about your favourite flower].”

*Sylus watching you with intent, beginning of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.*

monster!sylus who, at one point, sat under a tree with you, looking over the N109 zone towards linkon when his deep voice split through the silence

“Do you like me?”

the sudden and blunt question probably shocked you - your flustered response causing him to grow confused

what was wrong with the question?

was the point of asking not to find out answers one wants to know?

he would simply sit and stare at you until you responded, no matter how long it took you he waited

monster!sylus who finally realised what it felt like to be cared for when you answered ‘yes’, the warm sensation flooding his senses, and he was utterly confused.

it wasn’t as if you’d devoted yourself to him, nor had you sworn your loyalty for life - but the idea that you liked him…

he gave you no response, looking off into the distance as he tried to process the information.

when you asked him ‘Aren’t you going to respond?’ he’s give some bullshit answer along the lines of “You haven’t asked me anything.”

he knows what you were asking.

for some reason, he can’t say anything back.

monster!sylus that slowly began to seek your presence, your company. waiting for you to show up became tiresome, he wanted to be with you.

showing up out of no where - when you were on a walk or entering your residency, he would all of a sudden appear and demand your attention (which you secretly didn’t mind giving).

each visit he’d stay longer, get a little closer, feel a little more.

you taught him how to laugh - well at least give an amused huff, how to do his hair ‘properly’ rather than having it sit erratically on his head.

moving his hair out of his eyes, you swoop it into a neat parting muttering something about not hiding his ‘pretty eyes’, arching over his lids and settling neatly.

however after looking in the mirror, he immediately ran his hand through the hair causing you to almost murder the man on the spot

you taught him how to appreciate cuisines, especially the different variants of drinks.

“This is what brand of wine? Ah… I see.”

you taught him how to treat wounds, how to cook simple foods, each visit a little date on its own.

monster!sylus who inevitably grew fond of you, watching you with a small smile no matter what you did.

if you ever pointed this out, he’d just shrug his shoulders and carry on with whatever he was doing before.

he didn’t notice at first, but you’d somehow managed to work yourself into his life - despite having tried to rid you many times before.

now, your company was second nature. for a solitary creature, he had never before had the chance to appreciate companionship.

you taught him how to.

monster!sylus who quickly learnt your interests. you loved the small, infant cats that would roam the streets - every time you’d stop at a shop, buy some food and nudge it towards the creatures.

you’d take him to ride on a horse - which he complained about being ‘too slow’ and that he could run several paces faster, so you introduced him to motorcycles.

sitting behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as you both sailed through the night air, the city lights your stars.

monster!sylus who you sat next to, head resting against his shoulder.

“Relaxing so easily against me, have you forgotten what I truly am?”

if you’re confused, he’ll spell it out for you. he’s grown used to your obliviousness after all.

a monster

a being birthed by abhorrence, the dirt and filth that humans try so desperately to conceal. no amount of flesh, skin and bone could hide that fact, no amount of blood that spills against his hands could cloak such a stench.

cruel, disgusting, selfish. malevolence was second nature.

sylus who learnt what it felt like to be unconditionally loved in your gentle embrace.

eyes widening with surprise, he’ll ask you if you’re scared of him, you say never. you say that you could never be disgusted by him.

you tell him with so much conviction it may as well have been indoctrinated in the stars.

he couldn’t help but smile at your innocence, your ability to love the unlovable.

sylus who learnt how to feel fear as he watched the wanderer pierce your body - blood spurting from your chest.

his hands are covered in blood - palms slipping against your chest as he tries to plug the hole in your chest.

the warmth of your body, your soul, gushes from you in violent pulses - sylus can feel your trembling breaths, his eyes wide with panic. he fumbles around, cursing louder and louder as he watches you fade away.

“Fuck- fuck. Hold on, keep your eyes open - I can do something about this just wait.”

sylus who watches in despair as the life drains from your eyes, feeling the sharp throb in his eye propel his evol at the wanderer that murdered you

monster!sylus who rips the wanderer’s limb by limb, ensuring that the subject experienced each and every sensation as its soul parted from the mangled corpse

no mercy was shown as he suffocated the creature to death, crushing it’s neck as it squealed.

monster!sylus who stood over a corpse. the corpse of the person who taught him love.

monster!sylus who didn’t attend your funeral.

you never taught him how to grieve, never taught him what to do when you’d leave him - damned with immortality.

monster!sylus who never got to say the words he wanted to.

he could only see you where you lay, sitting helplessly by your tombstone.

it feels as though he’s been stabbed, a burning wound ripping down his throat. he knows the answer now.

“I love you too.”

AN: not proofread as usual i had fun writing the beginning but i had no idea how to finish it - i feel like sylus and MC had a tragic end which is why he’s so forward with his love for them now that he knows he loves them and that their time together can end any moment, unlike their previous life this life he’ll make sure MC knows he’s theirs! :3

#✧⁺ writing #love and deepspace #lnds #lads #lnd #sylus x you #sylus angst #sylus qin #sylusposting #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #lnd sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus imagine #lads sylus #sylus

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mother-na · 6 months ago

Text

Yandere Dr. Ratio X Reader [MDNI]

A Oneshot detailing the “punishment” served to you by Ratio after you’d ignored his rules and left to gain evidence for an essay he’d only given to you to distract you.

Warnings/Tags: Yandere behavior/rules, intercourse, spanking, creampie.

Comic Version: Linked at the bottom. Stelle is used as a placeholder for Reader.

You walked down a white hall, its tapestries mimicking the windows that adorn the spacecraft that Dr.Ratio calls his base. You were… both excited and anxious.

”If you’re truly so determined to find something to do, write me an essay. Procure your evidence through factual means within my library. The topic can be whatever you wish, I only ask you make this infernal conversation worth my valuable time.” Dr. Ratio had said in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been particularly busy so your badgering didn’t come all that welcome. Still though!

You’d successfully weared him down! After weeks of begging him to let you do something that wasn’t sitting around in his base, he had assigned a task to you.

What you really wanted was an exploration task. Ratio, for some reason, had asked you not to leave the aircraft. It’s not like he enforced it but the bone-chilling disappointed stare he’d give you for it typically swayed you.

But you had broken that rule for the sake of your assignment, running off to find different oddities and record them in your essay. The hope was that Ratio would see your genius and bravery and let you loose a little. Of course, you planned to slightly omit your departure.

You had cited it as a previous experience. Ratio wouldn’t know what you’d done until afterward, when you tell him.

You stopped in front of his door, one of his many offices, trying not to crush the paper in your hands between your fingers. Was this a good idea..? It’s not like Ratio gave you a deadline, maybe you should just rewrite it..?

You shook your head, absolutely not! You’d worked so hard for this, you can’t turn back now!

You knocked generously on Ratio’s door. Not even a second later did Ratio call out to the door, “Enter.”

You walked in as Ratio lifted his head from his papers, nearly assuming a polite posture before seeing it was merely you, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed you briefly.

”Greetings (Y/N), I was worried you ran off. Neither I nor anyone else residing in this spacecraft has seen you for several days. Was there something you were searching for?” Ratio addressed you, glaring into your eyes with an indiscernible look. Even from the door to the desk, it felt like his gaze was mere inches from you.

Despite his suspicion being clear, him asking if you were searching for something was a genuine inquiry. Had you needed or desired something, he’d have provided it in an instant.

You hugged your paper close to your chest, Ratio’s eyes looking down at it as it crinkled in your arms.

”I was- um… writing the essay you asked for!” You said, doing a short sprint to his desk and extending the now slightly wrinkled paper to him in what you thought was confidence.

Before Ratio had even placed the paper on his desk, he’d clicked a red pen open with one hand. You felt your confidence plummet.

”W-Well um, I’ll be on my way.” You turned and began to scramble your way out the door before you heard him speak.

”Stop.” Ratio’d ordered simply, making you pause in your departure.

You turned to see his eyes flickering over the page rapidly, his brows furrowed. That cursed red pen glided on just about every inch of the paper.

Finally, he closed his eyes and placed the paper down. Leisurely, he rose from his seat. He looked like he was fighting the devil themself for patience!

Ratio let out a breath, preparing to speak.

”Let’s go over your mistakes, yes?” Ratio proposed, “Come, why don’t you read it?” he took a step to the side, letting you nervously slink beside him and his desk.

”Put your hands on the desk.” Ratio ordered. You turned to look at him like a kicked puppy. He wasn’t really gonna do what that implies right?

But Ratio only looked down at you, waiting for you to do it. He must know what you were thinking, but he gave no implication that what you were thinking was wrong. Rather, he looked quite knowing!

With a new bright blush of embarrassment, you placed your hands on either side of the paper onto the firm wooden work surface.

Ratio started pointing with his pen at some of your minor mistakes. It started out calmly with his body close to your own form, his heat transferring to you. His voice was just behind you as he elaborated on even the smallest of mistakes.

As he spoke, Ratio would make the smallest of movements. A gentle press against your body and behind. An “incidental” brush of his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver. A wave of air hitting your behind as he seemed to toy with the hem of your skirt.

You felt warm and found you could not focus on what he was saying. In response, Ratio chose to give you a small shock, brushing his fingers against the hem of your underpants.

You gasped a bit, finding your mind a little numb. You wanted Ratio’s approval, and subsequently his attention. Despite this, you hadn’t thought he’d be okay doing this to you. You don’t find yourself wanting to complain, but you’d really like to know where this is coming from.

”Pay attention. Have you spotted it yet? The betraying blunder in this error-riddled report you’ve presented me?” Ratio growled behind you while stroking your clothed pussy slowly.

You can’t tell if he’s trying to motivate you to listen, but if that’s the case it’s not working.

Ratio leans over you before placing his pen down, using the now free hand to blanket your own and stroke your fingers.

”If you recall, ‘Procure your evidence through factual means within my library.’” Ratio reiterated his previous orders impeccably. One would’ve thought that he wouldn’t have remembered the exact words, and yet.

You swallow a small whine as Ratio allows the hand caressing your soft flesh to brush your skirt up and over to your waist, and thus revealing your soft ass to the cold air.

Ratio pressed his fingers and essentially massaged the flesh of your ass before speaking, “Despite my orders, your cited evidence comes from ‘personal experience.’”

“How odd.” Ratio continued, his voice firm and thick with disappointment.

For a confusing moment, Ratio lifted his warm hand off your flesh. Only for a moment though, as before you could even question his motives he’d replanted his hand harshly against the skin.

You gasped (moaned?) in shock as your poor butt stung from the harsh treatment. Still, Ratio’s hand didn’t stop moving.

”I wasn’t informed of this ‘experience’ of yours.” he’d taunted as his hand passed over the red mark forming on your ass cheek and down back to your underwear. You resisted the urge to squirm as Ratio looped a finger inside your underwear.

“It’s almost like you tried to hide it from me.” Ratio suddenly tugged on your underwear and forcing the cloth against your sensitive pussy. You tried to lift yourself onto your toes to alleviate the strange sensation, but Ratio’d only tug harder.

Ratio didn’t stop drilling his words into you, “Are my resources not enough? Am I not enough?”

Ratio’s voice, while predominantly angered, also sounded somewhat hurt by your apparent betrayal. It made you feel a little guilty.

As Ratio glared down at you he began to lose his confident shell, lifting the side of your underwear to view your sensitive pussy.

”If you’re so desperate,” Ratio spoke as though he’d made his choice as you began to hear him messing with presumably his clothes. “For experiences…”

Ratio’s breath grew uneven as you were left wondering what he was thinking. Your mind is so muddled that you oddly didn’t guess what he was going to do.

It was only when you felt something warm and blunt press against your exposed entrance that you’d realized too late.

“Then I simply must oblige.” Ratio partially scowled before cruelly thrusting his entire length within your vulnerable twitching pussy. Aside from the initial intrusion, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You couldn’t place why until Ratio began to taunt you.

”You’re absolutely soaked.” Ratio’d pointed out. His voice was low and sounded annoyed. He seemed to be struggling to choke down his own groans.

Ratio moved his hands, one put firmly on the back of your neck and the other lifted one of your legs onto his desk. His hands weren’t harsh, but their grip was unyielding.

”Were you this eager to be punished?” Ratio sneered at you. His cock massaged your inner walls in a slow rhythm, drawing lewd fluid from your twitching hole.

Ratio leaned over you steadily, blanketing your body with his own and forcing your front against the cold desk. With one arm now wrapped beneath your neck and head, his heartbeat felt through his muscular arm, he spoke again.

“Do you enjoy the sensation of my cock stuffing you to the brim?” Ratio growled from just behind you, as he placed his head right beside your own. You not only heard his voice within your sensitive core, but also through his chest as he pushed against you.

His hands snaked over your body, over your shoulders and neck, before finding themselves on your wrists.

”Is this,” Ratio hoisted you off the desk with his cock still inside you, “Personal enough for you? Still feel you need more?”

Ratio picked up the pace, the slapping of his hips meeting your red ass loud. He kept you gripped firmly, not allowing you to budge and trapping you between the desk and his pounding hips.

You could hardly think! Your whole core was throbbing with need and was being slammed relentlessly with Ratio’s cock head kissing your virgin cervix. You couldn’t even form words!

”Are you receiving enough experience? Speak up. I can’t hear you.” you were taunted by Ratio as you could only moan and whimper from his sturdy phallus.

Ratio too was falling apart slowly. His voice was firm from years of remaining adamant with acquaintances and students, but his breath was wavering and he took erratic sharp breaths.

Ratio was reaching his limit and so were you. He thrusted recklessly and held you by your arms, his huffings being drowned out by your own moans of pleasure.

”Take it… take it all. Every last drop.” Ratio growled behind you, his grip now uncomfortable but entirely masked by the pleasure between your legs.

Ratio didn’t pull out. He, as he said, sprayed his thick cum directly into your defenseless womb. It was warm and with his final thrust, it ripped a quaking orgasm from your panting form. You could feel your walls squeeze Ratio, and from his small groans, he could feel it too.

Only when your womb was properly pumped full of Ratio’s essence did he pull his dripping cock out.

You collapse onto the desk as Ratio releases you, pulling up his pants as he turns to leave.

”Don’t let me ever catch you putting yourself in danger again.” Ratio firmly warned you as he left you twitching on his desk and leaking cum out of your now-stretched hole.

As Ratio left you exhausted and sexually satisfied, he kept thinking about you. You shouldn’t have left. Everything he does is to protect your reckless self from the harsh world.

Perhaps, if you’re pregnant, you would not be able to act as foolishly.

Comic Version: https://x.com/na_nsfw_/status/1819871482056450051?s=61

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piastri44 · 1 year ago

Text

‘tis the season // cl16

okay, it's been awhile since the last time i posted an au. bare in mind that english is not my first language! I've been thinking about doing this for a long time now, but i was so caught up with uni that i just couldn't. enjoyyyy.

pair: charles leclerc x singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

summary: in which charles is dating someone new and his ex releases a (sad and shady) christmas e.p

note 2: ok so this is kind of rushed bc i kept changing my mind as i wrote it down lol but i think the main idea is still there.

f1wags

12,306 likes

f1wags I spy with my little eye a new wag.

Charles was spotted kissing his new girl; anybody happens to know how's everyone's favourite singer doing?

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fan1 r u kidding me? they've broken up for how long? two weeks?

fan2 well if he's happy then i'm happy :-)

fan3 oh, that's low, even for him. hope yn's okay and happier than she's ever been.

Oct 30

yourusername

liked by gracieabrams, charles_leclerc and 1,154,565 others

yourusername made something special for you guys for the holidays🤍 'fruitcake' is out 08/12

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scuderiaferrari we can't wait to listen to our fav artist!!! 💖

yourusername ❤ fan4 ferrari's already choosing sides lol

Nov 20

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, finneas and 1,325,348 others

yourusername fruitcake is officialy out! ♡ link in bio! 🎄🎅🏼

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fan5 I LOVED IT, mother has mothered!!!

fan6 happy fruitcake day to those who celebrate!

fan7 why does her ex keep liking her pictures lol

fan8 right? like talk about obsessive behaviour

Dec 8

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 2,844,260 others

yourusername you're gonna leave me all alone? on christmas? baby, what'd I ever do to deserve all that? 🙈🎄

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charles_leclerc 🤨

fan9 looooool ariana what are you doing here? fan2 charles, i love you, but have some self-respect pls

Dec 11

#charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1

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two-white-butterflies · 7 months ago

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★ — it was all yellow | carlos sainz

Description: After finding Carlos in bed with an internet starlet, you decided to break up with him. 5 years later, you meet him again.

Pairing: actress/singer!reader/carlos sainz

Trope: Secret Baby Trope

Disclaimer: Everything written in this fanfic holds no truth about anyone's personality or actions. It is made purely for entertainment.

A/N: I got so many requests for this typa trope and I only got the idea now. Super sorry for the 6 month delay WAHHAHA.

yn.ln: the vibe that we bring to the function. btw 💚 HOTDS2 is out!

liked by danielricciardo and 71,923 others

>comments

danielricciardo: Helaena Targaryen >>> - edited: Helaena Targaryen <<<

echibano82: MAN!! 😭

ynforever: the rise and fall of a midwest princess is my fav album of urs

formula.unoworld: sainz fumbled a baddie

because.official: Carlos and Pinon 😘❤️ #MyHeart

liked by carlossainz55 and 6,293 others

>comments

foreveryoung78: Wake up Carlos the fatherhood allegations are strong today

solonglondon: U ever heard of a boy named Pablo Sainz? 😳

bestfriendsfw: miss Because...go and tell ur mans - landofanbase: HER NAME ALWAYS TAKES ME OUT 😭 WHY IS HER STAGE NAME "BECAUSE"

WHO IS CARLOS SAINZ'S NEW GIRLFRIEND? BECAUSE...

Brezziana Aziza, whose stage name is Because has gained fame because of her relationship with Formula One Driver Carlos Sainz Jr. Previously known on social media as an influencer who vlogs about her daily life, netizens began to call her "Because" well because of her excessive use of that word.

Although she has stopped using that word since, the name has stuck. She is currently under fire for visiting a Shein Factory in China. For more details please click this link: Shein sent American influencers to China.

>comments

becauseunitedfanbase: she's so funny n quirky i get it why carlos loves her

breatheinlouder: if pablo does belong to sainz, brezziana broke a family up - corduroy8chan: the family broke because sainz allowed it to be broken, she's homewrecker because...? - becauseunitedfanbase: more like home renovator

Just an Inchident (Charles L., Max V., Lando N., Carlos S.)

Carlos Sainz holy shit guys did you see twitter

Charles Leclerc Yeah man Is it real?

Lando Norris i did some research and this kid's 6-4 yrs old there's a chance mates

Carlos Sainz how am i even supposed to ask her? it was so awkward when it ended i totally regret doing that to her but im so happy with because now

Charles Leclerc There's a fat chance that the kid is yours man

Lando Norris ask her like a civilized man dude i saw a reel where someone asked her if pablos yours

Max Verstappen Who uses reels mate? 🤣 2 reacted 🤣

Lando Norris well she avoided the question silence means yes if you aren't the father she'd answer it

Carlos Sainz maybe she wants to torture me

Charles Leclerc She's a good person man I don't think that she'll do that Plus she's above using her son for leverage

Carlos Sainz and how do you know that Charles? we haven't spoken to her in years

Max Verstappen She grabs coffee with Victoria on Tuesdays I've actually known about Pablo for a while now

Carlos Sainz 👍🏻 2 reacted 🤣

Max Verstappen 👍🏻 .

yn.ln: i want a velaryon burial #HOTDS2

liked by 93,192 others

>comments

danielricciardo: the camera quality sucks just letting you know - yn.ln: thanks! i have eyes btw

comments have been restricted.

yn.ln: A lot of you wanted to comment and ask questions about my son, and I never really posted about him because I'm not like those parents who use their kids on social media for likes and clout.

Five years ago, I gave birth to my first baby, Pablo L/N (09/12/18) and every day has been filled with laughter and warmth 🦋 he was not a secret, but I tried to keep his life private. Now, a lot of people feel like they have the right to know everything about him. What he looks like. Who his father is. I'm telling you that it doesn't matter.

You don't have the right to his face. You don't have the right to know about his family life because it doesn't concern you and it never will.

Thank you so much to my friends!! @danielricciardo @rileykeough #DakotaJohnson and #ChrisMartin

liked by 1,239,901 others

>comments

danielricciardo: ❤️

rileykeough: 🥺 i love you and p

victoriaverstappen: We love you! - yn.ln: thank you vic, playdate with luka and lio soon? - victoriaverstappen: Absolutely!

comments have been restricted.

email to [email protected] (Y/N L/N publicist) from [email protected]

Good morning Dessie.

This is Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist, Daniel Kirkman, in light of the rumors between my client and Miss Y/N L/N we humbly request the truth about Pablo L/N's paternity in order to legally and publicly clear things up. Speaking as your old friend, these past few months have been stressful both physically and mentally. Even if there's a sliver of hope that the kid is Carlos' please update me.

Warm regards, Daniel Kirkman.

email to [email protected] (Y/N L/N publicist) from [email protected] (Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist)

Good afternoon Mr. Kirkman.

I can see that the years have hardly changed you, you still have horrible email etiquette. Because we are old friends, I spoke to Y/N. Truth is, the things that I'm going to share today will ruin your client's reputation if our emails are ever leaked. Remember the fallout of 2018? We both celebrated New Years in Y/N's Santa Monica House.

Actually, New Years was the day we found out that she was pregnant. Not a doubt in our hearts that the baby was Carlos'. We were about to tell him but the moment we landed in Ibiza, she saw Carlos in bed with Brezziana. (I refuse to call her Because!! BECAUSE it is confusing and preposterous.)

I think that hiding Pablo from his father wasn't right, but I don't blame her for doing it. As for the paternity test, Y/N agreed but the team will come back to you with the legalities and such. As a 'friend' I want to tell you that the best Carlos is ever going to have is him paying child support and seeing the child once or twice a month.

Y/N has a lot of lawyers, more than we do friends. And judging by Carlos' personality, I don't think that he'll fight for his son.

Warm Regards, Destiny Bumgarner

email to [email protected] (Y/N L/N publicist) from [email protected]

Good evening Destiny! What makes you think that Y/N's going to win the legalities? + I never expected you to reveal all of this via chat. You sure that I won't betray you?

email to [email protected] (Y/N L/N publicist) from [email protected] (Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist)

I got dealt with the winning hand now Dan.

I know you're smart enough not to doubt me. :)

email to [email protected] (Y/N L/N publicist) from [email protected]

All is fair in connections and clientele?

email to [email protected] (Y/N L/N publicist) from [email protected] (Carlos Sainz Jr's publicist)

All is fair in life, Dan.

oliviacooke: sorry for drinking your juice hun. 📸 pablo l/n

liked by 283,192 others

>comments

yn.ln: haha thanks for carrying his bags liv

comments have been restricted.

There are only two things. Truth and lies.

Truth is indivisible, hence it cannot recognize itself; anyone who wants to recognize it has to be a lie.

The past that you've tried to bury has slowly began to reveal itself. Maybe it was your fault, you aren't sure...

Carlos Sainz was a horrible man. He cheated on you. He didn't apologize. He admitted that another woman made him happier. Was there something special about her? A simple internet starlet with no proper claim to fame made him feel more alive.

"You've got to face him anyways." Dakota placed a glass of wine on the coffee table. "Pablo isn't his. He doesn't even look like him." you shook your head, unable to accept the inevitable truth.

"I've read all the posts on Twitter, they don't think that I have the right to push my son away from his father. Carlos is immature, I don't think that he's even capable of being a father." you scoff, taking a sip.

Haven't you given your son everything that he needed? An iPad, a big house, private education, and vacations in all the nice places.

"Two wrongs don't make a right." Destiny breathed.

"- from what Kirkman says, Carlos has changed. I don't encourage you to be romantic partners or even best friends, but please be civil for Pablo. Please let him have a civil relationship with his father." she added. "I hate it when you're right." you looked away.

You've seen his posts. You've seen his interviews.

There wasn't a bone in his body that screamed mischievousness anymore. He looked tame. Happier.

He achieved all of that without you, and maybe you could be that too.

You can be everything without him too.

"So you'll talk to him?" Dakota asked.

"I'll give it a try." I relented.

Look at the stars.

Look how they shine for you.

The music played in the background as you sashayed your way into the VIP section of your friend's restaurant. Destiny was an angel enough to close shop and ensure that your privacy was protected especially in these vulnerable moments.

A sigh escapes your mouth, hearing that song in the background. As much as you adored Chris Martin, this song was getting in your feels.

You take a sharp turn, halting once you see his figure.

The very same man that shattered your world in Ibiza. The very same man that looked you in the eyes while he admitted that someone else made him much much happier than you, his fiancee.

And it was called Yellow.

"Thank you so much for being here, Y/N." your name sounded soft on his lips. Behind his brown eyes, there was sorrow - not to be confused with regret because he looked better than he ever was. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" you chuckled.

While nothing about you has changed.

Carlos has changed drastically.

"Destiny told me about the emails. Your team wanted a paternity test, right? You don't need it, Pablo is yours." you decided to be straightforward, not bothering to sugarcoat the truth.

You could feel that bitterness on your throat, like tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes, like you just swallowed a pill and forgot to drank water afterwards.

"Uhh - I found out on New Years day, and I wanted to tell you in Ibiza." you didn't bother to continue the story. He knows what you mean.

For you I'd bleed myself dry.

"I'm sorry, really sorry for not being a man. I know that we were about to get married, and I got scared. I was 24 years old, everyone was telling me that I had another life ahead of me. I was young. I wanted to ruin my life. I-I shouldn't have brought you with me." he apologized, trying to find the words that could articulate his feelings.

This was all that you needed from him.

An apology.

"When Destiny found out, she grabbed me by the ear. Told me that I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve you. I believe her, and I want to do everything to make it up to you and Pablo." he promised, but there were still words unsaid - the turn of his brows telling you that he wasn't willing to return back to normal.

That he still loves Because more than he's ever loved you.

"Do you love her?" you smiled bitterly. Your smile.

Look how they shine for you.

"I betrayed both of you that night. She didn't know that we were dating. She didn't know who I was. I apologized to her and she forgave me, but I realized a few years after that I should've apologized to you too." he admitted. "- I love her, really."

You knew that he wasn't lying.

destinybumgarner: this is the PINK PONY CLUB

liked by 712 others

>comments

yn.ln: WAHAHAH IM JUST HAVING FUN

danielkirkman: crowns c / o pablo the prince

part two

A/N What driver or actor should we pair reader with? 😭 comment to get tagged

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