#sinclair fits the flesh so much. to me

[choiraugur]

old sketchy… au where sinclair gets fucked up by the flesh fear from tma

[poetryincostume]

A ribbon corset has been on my list to make for a good few years now. In 2020 I was full steam ahead to make a Helga Sinclair (Atlantis) cosplay. Life, pandemic, work, and endless distractions means we’re still not quite there yet, but in dribs and drabs I’m tackling elements of the costume as I’m still sitting on the majority of the materials.

This was when when I was in the depths of being very taken with making costumes from the skin out; fit, silhouette and sharp clean lines are my priority when making and where I find great satisfaction. To achieve a perfect shape, you need the perfect structure to build on.

Playing with undergarments creates further opportunity to explore character and the setting, historical or fictional, in a fun intimate way. Fabric choices, actual garment choices, shooting for a silhouette that is easily drawn but harder to achieve in the flesh. This led to me deciding that Helga would need a full set of pseudo-historical undergarments.

With references to the Kaiser, the overall steampunk aesthetic, and the silhouettes featured in the Washington DC-set opening scenes, Atlantis is clearly set in the early 1910s before the outbreak of World War I. Helga's design, however, drew heavily on Hollywood starlets of the '30's and '40's, most notably Veronica Lake and her career making hair. Withn the film, Helga remained highly individual, and was exclusively animated at Disney's French Studio by Japanese animator Yoshimichi Tamura for maximum sex appeal that Burbank animators apparently just can't get right.

This gave me a lovely big window of around 30 years to play and pick and choose from for possible undergarments which led me to: the ribbon corset.

Ribbon corsets emerged alongside sports and 'health' corsets at the turn of the twentieth century. These developed out of a growing engagement with sports and exercise in the leisure classes, the burgeoning Dress Reform movement that advocated the abandonment of the corset. Particularly in the case of the pretty ribbon corset there was also the influence of the late Victorian aesthetic movement that favoured loose, diaphonous romantic garments.

These corsets sat under the bust and had boning at the centre front, back and sides and no more and rested on the high hip. This allowed maximum movement for the active lady, gently supporting the torso in the fashionable flat fronted shaped with little restircution. The body of the corset was otherwise was made up, as in the name, of strips of ribbon.

When looking for discussion of how to construct one of these, all pointers led to Sidney Eileen's perfectly detailed tutorial, which I do recommend reading through. To my eye it is a very modern approach that I didn't quite agree with so I used it as a jumping off point along with the patterns in Corsets & Crinolines, and Corsets - Historical Patterns and Techniques.

To draft up the pattern was very simple: I marked out my desired waist measure, then measured up my centre front and centre back lengths (averaged out from the various patterns in my references compared against myself). I then used my ribbon - 50mm jacquard - to map out my body layout.

When it came time to construct I realised that my ribbon - so abstractly bought years ago - just didn't have the body to take this structure. Much too flimsy, much too synthetic. Fortunately I had a 50mm green grosgain in large quantity in my ribbon drawer. Given the merc-for-hire miliatry drab favoured by Helga, I thought the green alongside the pretty shell coloured floral made a lovely character juxtaposition.

I mounted my jacquard onto the grosgrain, creating a nice delicate border. If you look closely you'll see that actually there are too shades of green grosgrain here as I was about a metre shy of my preferred colour, but i figured it was close enough and minimally to just fake through.

These newly formed ribbons were laid out on my pattern, stitched carrfully together and then tacked all over to stop any irritating movement when working.

The boned panels - side, back and front - were two layers of herrinbone couil, trimmed with grosgrain and covered with main ribbon. The ribbon panels were first stitched to one layer of coutil, as you would with any garment. The ribbons were then quilted neatly and vertically across the width of the coutil panel to make sure that they are entirely secured. This was repeated for all panels; the side panel has two layers of quilte ribbon as a result.

As no extant example that I have seen to date has binding on these boned panels - naturally, it would add bulk and distract from the clean lines of ribbons - I decided that this would mean that I would sandwich and hem my boned panels for security. Each boned panel had its grosgrain trim and top ribbon tacked in placed, the the second layer of coutil was stitched and turned to the inside, folding the quilted ribbon very neatly inside. Boning was then inserted from the side and stitched into place rather than inserted into channels.

A lovely ivory powder-coated busk, and stitched over eyelets and Helga's vaguely turn of the century ribbon corset is all done!

References:

Underwear Fashion in Detail, 2010, Eleri Lynn

Corsets - Historical Patterns & Techniques, 2008, Jill Salen

Corsets & Crinolines, 2017, Norah Waugh

The Making of Atlantis - https://youtu.be/tvR9Zdp74fY?si=5mMV1AH6HLir2rNZ

How To Make A Basic Ribbon Corset, Sidney Eileen - http://sidneyeileen.com/sewing-2/sewing/corset-making/basic-ribbon/

An Edwardian Ribbon Corset, History Wardrobe - https://historywardrobe.wordpress.com/2014/04/10/an-edwardian-ribbon-corset/

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

hiiii, if you're developing the protective prompts, i think 'they'll never understand our connection.' would be amazing for rory & the cap 😌 🖤 (there are more but i'm not gonna spam asdfsa)

Thank you so so much for this Malk, I have been slowly but surely working on this one (and hope to some day be able to add it to one of my full length fics for these two) but here's a bit from post MW3 Rory and Price *spoiler: I do want to have these two get quietly married*. I did edit the prompt a little to make it fit, but anyhoo

warnings for smoking and implied sexual activities at the start (they're newlyweds don't blame them) otherwise mostly shippy conversation stuff with a sprinkling of angst with mentions of the events of MW3.

word count: 1.9 K

Captain Price x Rory Sinclair (OC)

Curled into the weight of him, lying in their matrimonial bed, Lt. Rory Sinclair – John's new bride, and partner for the last eight years – felt like she was home. She had traveled the world, fought in countless fights and yet with John, it didn't matter what nation's borders surrounded her, or which four walls closed them in. She was safe. Protected in a way that she had only ever felt with John. 

Watching him smoke one of those bloody cigars of his, she quietly laughed to herself. Well versed in the addiction to smoking both her and John shared – for him, it was cigars, and for her, cigarettes – it was a nasty habit, and yet, the scent of that rich and heady tobacco that permeated the air and his clothes, that seemed to seep from every one of his pores, was one she couldn't live without now. Better than any cologne when mixed with his sweat and the smell of whiskey on his breath. That was John, cut down to his very essence.

Holding her chin in his hand, his rough fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her cheeks as they gazed hungrily into each other's eyes. The desire for each other was always there, forever lingering even in the background when their thoughts were solely focused on the mission at hand and not on the pursuit of loving one another. His mouth claimed hers, pulling her into a needy kiss after a drag from his cigar, and she found herself lost in the depth of his kiss, feeling the smoke curl and cloud down her throat and inside her lungs. Filled in totality, brimming with him. 

Rory locked eyes with him, returning a flirty smirk before blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling – a practiced art, as much as her ability with a sniper's scope or an interrogation room. Biting her lip as the last streak of smoke trailed from her parted lips, hazel doe eyes looked back with the intensity of a predator staring at its prey through the fog.

His eyes never left hers as smoke rings blew towards the ceiling, a mischievous glint flashing in their blue depths. Chuckling low in his chest, the vibrations caused his collection of body hair to quiver against her skin. "Bloody gorgeous," he murmured, his voice husky. Leaning forward, he breathed in, inhaling deeply the scent of smoke, whiskey, and her. The corners of his mouth curving upward, revealed a hint of amusement. "God, you smell like heaven." But as quickly as the newlywed joy sparked between them played out, his expression turned serious, his eyes burning with an inner fire. Tracing the outline of her lips with a sweep of his thumb, he grazed the sensitive skin with a tender touch. "Think I'll keep you captive," he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. Tangling his fingers in the short, choppy strands as he stroked her hair, he pulled her head closer to him and his voice dropped to a whispered promise, "Never gonna let anyone else in. Only me. My girl. Forever."

The words sent a ripple of excitement through her core, followed by a wave of relaxation, knowing she was exactly where she belonged – wrapped around John Price, the man who would stop at nothing to protect and claim her as his own. Her warm eyes radiating the loyalty and devotion she felt for him. That desire to be protected, saved from a life full of loss and pain, was one that John eagerly filled for her. Hell bent on making sure she never had to weather another storm without him, using the same ruthless persistence he had when it came to dealing with a target.

"I'll happily be kept by you, my darling. Won't even try and run," she purred, her voice soft like velvet and as smooth as silk, made thick with the smoke that curled inside her throat. "All yours, John. Always." Her solemn vow as she stared into those piercing blue eyes of his, ones she could sink into, finding comfort in that strikingly cold gaze and the unknowable depths behind them that he allowed her to peer into – one of the few he did – never taking that for granted. This was the man she loved, all rough edges and darkened corners.

There was a flash of triumph in Price's eyes, that same determination that sharpened his gaze in battle igniting in his irises. He grinned, a dangerous curl tugging at the corners of his lips. A primal satisfaction filled him as he nodded, accepting her surrender with a subtle lift of his head. His fingers drifted down to massage her jawline, his voice as rough as his calloused palm, was filled with magnetism and promises, drawing her in further. "That's right, love. No runnin’ away, no escape. You’re Mrs. Price now. We fight together, just us two, against the whole world."

The quiet sentiment remained unspoken between them, but the way he crinkled his brows and narrowed his gaze made the underlying threat clear: mess with her, and he wouldn't hesitate to tear someone apart with his bare hands – an unnecessary warning for her, but comforting nonetheless.

"Two against the world." Her smile curled her full lips and her eyes sparkled with assurance that this was the man she was meant to be with. "Just how it's always been, eh?"

Rory knew exactly what Price was capable of: the violence, the threats, the lies and manipulations – a man willing to do whatever was necessary to succeed. Dangerous. But no matter how terrifying those traits might have been to his enemies, to her he had only ever been good. Gentle when needed, when her nightmares and flashbacks threatened to terrorize her, or strong and unshakable like a mighty fortress when threats came knocking on their door. She saw sides to him no one else was ever allowed to see. They had a trust built up after years of working together and born from a mission where he nearly lost her. An ill-fated op that nearly got her killed under his command became the roots for a love that had grown plentifully over nearly a decade together. They weren't just lovers or partners, they were everything to each other. A connection that no one else would ever understand, and neither of them was willing to try and explain it if someone was foolish enough to ask.

Price's smile widened, the creases around his eyes deepening as he leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. "Always. Wouldn't have it any other way, my girl,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper, the words tinged with emotion.

Pausing, his gaze drifted off, lost in memories of the past and the darker parts of their history that had brought them to this moment all etched into his mind like scars on his skin. Swallowing hard around the lump forming in his throat, he re-focused his attention on the woman in his arms. "Y’know, Rory," he said, his tone low and gravelly, "Never thought I'd find someone like you. Someone who understands me, loves me despite...or maybe because of..." His eyes locked onto hers, searching for any sign of unease and finding none, but shrugging it off not wanting to assume. "Well, despite my many flaws."

The admission was a near impossible rarity from him. For someone like John Price who built his reputation on being unbreakable, it took more than just courage to acknowledge his weaknesses, it took the threat of torture - but for her, for her he was willing ignore his ego and the many guards he'd built up throughout his life.

"Could never ask for anyone better than you, darlin’," he said, pulling her close, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "You’re all I need havin’ to face this never-endin’ fight."

Brushing her fingers through the hair at his temple flecked with gray, she could only imagine the thoughts that currently stirred the cogs inside his head. Through their time together she had come to learn to understand how John thought, why he acted, what motivated him, but even after all this time there were parts that still remained a mystery even to her, parts of himself that he still kept secret - whether for his own safety or hers.

"We all have our flaws, John. Besides,” she said with a scrunch of her nose, “it's not like I'm any better, eh?" Her cheeky smile grew as she tried to add levity to the situation - she had never been very good about dealing with hard conversations. "Though I will say, I do hope one day the crusade might end. Maybe find a little peace together. Grow old and gray and fat. Be happy."

Meeting her gaze, his expression softened at first, then became firm once more when she mentioned the idea of finding peace someday. "It's a nice dream, love." His hand gripped hers, holding it tightly. "But we both know that won't be happenin’ soon. Not while men like Makarov are out there. Not until we've cleaned up this mess once and for all." His brow furrowed, the steel returning to his eyes again. "And when it's done, when we do finally find our peace, I'll spend the rest of my days makin’ sure you're comfortable. For now, let's enjoy these moments when we can.”

Huffing out a sour laugh, Rory knew that as much as (deep down) John may have wanted the same calm, quiet life she did, war was all he really knew. He had been shaped by it. A soldier from the age of sixteen, to him there really was no other life. Duty called, and he had sworn to answer it until the job was complete. If she were really being honest, she knew he likely wouldn't even know what to do with himself if he did find some semblance of peace. Even in serene moments like this, she could see the anxious twitching, the tics of a warrior that knew silence could mean danger was ahead.

Raking her fingers through her hair before resting her head on his chest, she listened to the steady thrum of his heart. "I know, duty calls. Hell, we were lucky we even got to have a bloody honeymoon." She offered him a small grin, but the weight of the threat of Makarov and the death of Soap still hung heavy over them, over everything.

His hand lingered on her back, rubbing gentle circles into her as if trying to erase the years of stress etched into her muscles. His heartbeat thundered against her ear, a reassuring rhythm that soothed and grounded her. "We were lucky, love," he agreed, his voice deepening with nostalgia. "That honeymoon was somethin’ rare during all that bloody chaos."

Fingers tightening slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the weight that still hung over them – the ghost of Soap, the specter of Makarov, the relentless march of duty - it was all an uninvited guest in their lives. Yet, there was acceptance in his voice rather than defeat, a reminder of their strength and resilience. "We'll finish this, my girl. We owe it to ourselves." Falling silent for a moment, he allowed them both to wallow in the comfort of each other's presence until he released a slow, weighty exhale, his arms wrapped firmly around her. "Until then, we'll find peace where we can, eh? Even in the small victories."

[unholyhelbig]

dog, ur into wenclair??

Title: The Cardinal & Her Raven

Ship: Enid Sinclair x Wednesday Addams

Summary: Wednesday Addams doesn't run away from a challenge, unless it serves to protect Enid Sinclair. Enid won't give in, and the two dance around one another in a fight for love.

Warnings: Blood, Hypothermia, abdominal wound, scars, angst, medical terminology, horrible grammar (I don't proofread, we know this) Disclaimer: Characters are aged up.

Buy me a coffee; my mother is sick, really sick, and her insurance is kicking her out of her rehab facility. Myself and my sister are responsible for 3700.00 a month to keep her housed. Help us, help her!

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Enid Sinclair kept her eyes on the cardinal that stared down at her unblinkingly from a gangly branch. It’s body was plump, fluffed up with layers of dark red feathers. The beak was startlingly orange, snapping open and closed as if it were trying to speak to her. Its words were stuck in it’s throat and Enid smiled weakly at the fact.

The bird stood out from the drab white environment, a splash of ink among an unwritten tragedy. She found it fit that she would die in the presence of another creature that was so much smaller than her. It was safe with its talons wrapped around the bark, head lilted in annoyance of the intrusion.

When Enid coughed, her throat gurgled. The overwhelming warmth of blood spilling from her mouth and onto the stark white snow brought her comfort, if not for a moment. She had been so cold before this. The ice was pressed close to her bare skin. The dark red had crusted around her cracked lips, so thick.

She was thankful that she had shifted back as she crawled across the white powder, using the rest of her energy as her bones writhed under her skin, breaking crudely and reforming into something one could only describe as human.

Enid had never felt desperation like this before, the need to touch every part of herself to the snow. Just hours before, as she ran with crystals etching into her fur, she figured she would never feel warmth again. Now, she did everything save from shedding her skin to envelope herself in the cold.

You’re dying. Her wolf echoed glumly in her ear. When she smiled at this, her teeth were stained with a rusty orange. She could taste the metal on her tongue. When she lifted her head with great difficulty, she found interest in the trail of blood that melted the snow in her obvious path.

Yes. She was dying, and she was welcomed to this face. The wolf that she shared her broken body with was pacing circles in her mind, discontented with her ability to give up. They were going to freeze out here, and she wouldn’t be found until spring.

When Enid’s flickering stare returned to the cardinal, it had been joined by a Raven. Its oil-slick features caught the sun with a startling purple. It watched her with a beaded eye, unblinking, undeterred. The wolf-girl laughed, winced as her abdomen constricted around the silver blade that bubbled her skin when she touched it.

I get it, Wednesday. She swallowed back a groan of agony, wrapping her hand around the handle of the weapon. She could hear the sharp sizzle of flesh. Even in her dismissal of pain, this was the most dangerous affliction. I was foolish to follow you.

She clenched her eyes shut to block out the Raven as it chased away the cardinal. And she pulled with a suffered whimper. This would relieve the pressure against muscle and veins. She could bleed out before she froze. She could relieve the festering in her gut.

“Fuck!”

I’d be her last word, her last shout of effort. Just as the tip of the blade reached the edge of her wound, it was shoved back down, perhaps a tad bit deeper than it was before. Her body threatened to curl into itself, a string of growled expletives deflating her.

The Raven on the branch had turned into a woman. No- no, that wasn’t right. Her vision was blackening at the edges, but she had enough sense to clock the bird that was still gloating from the branch. A familiar, perhaps, shielded with magic.

Her mind couldn’t make sense of the woman, wrapped in layers of dark wool. She smelled thickly of spice, and melted snow. It countered the vicious odor of rotted blood. But those eyes- those wide and dark eyes were so familiar. Despite their boiling rage, they carried a bit of tenderness.

“Stupid mutt,” her breath pushed past her pitch balaclava in a rise of condensation. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to pull the blade out?”

There were hands prodding at her naked body, searching for the source of the blood and wishing to quell it. Enid couldn’t stop the cynical giggle that escaped her. Nor could she stop the darkness that soon followed.

When Enid finally awoke, she drew in a greedy and despite helping of air that resulted in nothing but pain. She dug her heels into a scratchy mattress and struggled to get enough leverage to push her into a sitting position. This was not a room she was familiar with, nor did it bring comfort.

It was a cabin, dark brown shiplap lined the walls, and the mounted head of a steer grinned glared down at her with it’s marbled amber eye. She shuddered away from it, muscles tensing before she pressed her fingers against a sticky bandage across her abdomen. The slightest bit of red bloomed against the center.

She ran a thumb over the adhesive, peeling it back in the slightest before she was interrupted.

“Don’t touch that.”

A squeak escaped Enid. She reached for a random pillow that was embroidered with the image of a bear with two of her cubs. It was extremely tacky, and not at all the goth style that the woman in front of her stuck to like glue. She was expecting a small coffin stuffed with fluff. Never flannel bedsheets.

“Wednesday.”

It was a warning growl for her decency, but she was leveled with a cold glare. The scent of chamomile tea tickled her throat. If Wednesday had dragged her all the way here, then she was more than accustomed to Enid’s naked form. It didn’t make the blush against her cheeks any less prominent.

She carried a tray with a bowl of stew and the aforementioned tea. The smells mingled deliciously, filled Enid’s lungs. She couldn’t’ stop the noise her stomach made in response. Wednesday placed the food down on the small, dusty desk. She crossed her arms over her chest, stance tight.

“It was foolish to follow me.”

“It was foolish to run.” Enid shot back deftly “And to booby-trap your place?”

“It was to keep insipid dogs from disturbing my peace.”

Enid snapped her jaw shut. Pain was needling under her skin, something she had to swallow back. Crystaline blue eyes flickered down to the intricate lattice of the duvet. Wednesday had warned her explicitly, but with the rest of the deadpan words that pushed past the curves of the girls lips, Enid hadn’t taken them seriously.

A heavy sigh cut through the near silence of the room. The cabin settled around them, a wolf-whistle of wind shaking the structure. Wednesday approached the side of the bed and splayed her hand against Enid’s chest.

The wolf could feel blood rush past her ears, eyes widening as she looked at Wednesday, traced the freckles that were smattered across her cheeks. She’d spent time in the sun, there was a redness to her skin, a reflection of white light against the endless and dense winter landscape.

Enid’s back was against the mattress now. She resented that she was so pliable under the flitting Ravens talons. She easily could have thrown her off, even in her altered, silver-ridden, state Enid had immeasurable strength.

She folded under Wednesday’s touch. Her balanced weight was familiar and welcoming. Enid tried desperately to regulate her heartbeat. She was certain that the spread palm on her chest could feel the heavy thud behind her ribs. If Wednesday had noticed, she didn’t say a word.

“You ripped your stitches. Stay still.”  

Wednesday pulled the adhesive from her abdomen. Enid let out a deep primal snarl and arched her back. She could feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes. Maybe she deserved that for disobeying explicit instructions.

There was a ghost of a smile on Wednesday’s lips. She was enjoying Enid’s pain, but not enough to unbury the dimples that the wolf had only seen twice throughout their entire relationship. Her eyes shifted to the wound caked with black and hard blood. Wednesday had anticipated her and armed the grounds of the cabin with enough silver to render her useless.

Wednesday scooted down, pressure igniting a heat throughout Enid’s body. She fought back a tremble. The girl that was on top of her was nothing but clinical, but her soft and warm breath against her bare abdomen made goosebumps betray her.

“Once you’ve recovered, I expect you to leave.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Do you know how long it’s taken me to find you?”

She’d busied herself with rethreading a needle, dark and soulful eyes flicking up to meet Enid’s once more. There was disdain in them, but a little bit of pride there too. If she could outrun a werewolf with impeccable scent and tracking skills, then she could outrun anything.

“I don’t care how much you want to martyr yourself, Willa.”

Wednesdays features hardened as she plunged the needle into skin. Again, Enid grunted, but was careful with her strength, save for bucking the only one trained in medicine into the bedframe. Her teeth grit, she felt every pull of the surgical thread, each pinch and prod.

“Martyr?” Wednesday scoffed humorlessly “per l'amor di Dio, you were stark naked in a valley waiting for the winter to take you. If it weren’t for your supernatural ability, you’d have frozen to death long before you pitifully dragged yourself into the sun. Are you that careless with the life I’m trying to protect?”

“What is a life, my life, without you in it, Wednesday? I told you to stay. I begged you, because we could have figured it out together. But you ran like a coward.”

The word tasted heavy in her mouth and Wednesday’s movements stilled against her. The Addam’s family has been called many a things, but never once were they labeled as cowards. Wednesday had wrestled with the idea of returning to her lover. Even straddling her now, feeling the heat seep through her jeans,

“Perhaps I am a coward, but at least I am not a dull-witted one.”

This time, Enid felt the need to escape from under the weight of the woman who fit so easily on top of her. She did so gently, despite her festering anger, by grabbing both of Wednesday’s hips and lifting her with little effort until she could be nudged to the side. With great difficulty, and burning from her wound, she scrambled to a standing position.

A squeal of shock had escaped Wednesday and it left Enid flustered. She wished she could scrub the pink from her cheeks, her body betraying her.

“Take it back.” 

Enid knew she looked like a child, crossing her arms over her mostly bare body. Her jaw was thick-set and a slit eyebrow was raised. She hadn’t dyed her hair in months, the deep blue fading to a soft periwinkle at just the tips of her wild hair.

Wednesday could see the cotton-candy pink of her scars, not just the three that slashed through the woman’s cheek and eye. It was a rare sight, but there were long marks from her shoulder to her spine. They’d gushed an insurmountable wall of blood when skin had first broken. Wednesday resented the fact that she felt pride bubble up in her chest at how selfless Enid had been all those years ago.

“No, I will not.” Wednesday stood and peered up at Enid, crossing her own arms. “Things are easier if we are apart, Enid.”

“When have you ever cared about easy? The Wednesday I grew up with, the one I’ve known for all these years, never would have backed down from a challenge.”

“That’s what you think this is? A challenge? This is life and death, and despite my attachment to the imagery, I am not ready to die.”

Quiet enveloped them both, and Enid’s shoulders dropped in the slightest degree. Wednesday itched to run her fingers down the markings on Enid’s skin. The blade that had pierced her abdomen was sure to leave a nasty mark.

Enid let out a shaking breath that fanned across Wednesday’s cheeks. Despite herself, she felt tears start to build against her waterline. The shorter girl looked away, let them fall to the cotton of her shirt without consequence. She wasn’t afraid to cry in front of Enid, never had been.

The wolf curled her finger and lifted Wednesday’s eyes to her own. “You are not going to die.”

“You are so sure of this fact.”

“I’m not a child anymore, Willa. I’ve grown stronger, as have you.”

“As has Tyler.” The sigh escaped her heavily. “That creature has vowed to ruin my life, and you, silly mutt, are my life. I can keep moving, keep the both of you away.”

Enid frowned and ran her thumb over the damp freckles on Wednesdays face. They were talking in circles. Her stubbornness was chased like the tip of a tail. Aimlessly. She’d made it innately clear that Enid was not wanted by setting traps. Yet, Enid would let each of them carve up her skin, just for a small blissful moment.

Her words came out small, dejected. “Why won’t you let me protect you?”

Enid dropped her head, Wednesday brushing her nose against the wolf’s own. Enid failed at stifling a whimper. It tumbled from her mouth and made her feel vulnerable. Wednesday swallowed hard and brushed her fingers against the adhesive of the bandage.

“Once you heal, I expect you to leave. This time, properly dressed for the weather.”

“Willa…” It came out as a desperate plea.

“Stop following me, mia lupa.” Wednesday gritted, breathe hot and smelling of freshly picked mint. “Next time, I won’t show mercy.”

[mythicalwatch101]

HELLO. I AM HERE TO TALK ABOUT KROMER/CANTO 3

kromie is one of my Favorite characters Of All Time and if i see one more person horribly misinterpret her & her story & her motivations i am for real going to distort

FIRST AND FOREMOST

CANTO 3 ISN'T ABOUT ABLEISM

(it's not about racism either. she's not "cyborg racist". god damn it.)

canto 3 is about

religious extremism & societal pressure

PROSTHETICS IN THE CITY ≠ DISABILITY

prosthetics in the pm world are pretty obviously NOT the same as prosthetics in our world, and using them to point towards kromer being ableist is one of the weakest arguments i have ever seen in my entire life. give me ONE piece of evidence of kromer being ableist that doesn't mention prosthetics i fucking dare you

look at that. it's not about needing a missing arm replaced, or legs that you can walk on; it's about doing away with all of the inefficiencies of a flesh and blood body. you can get so much more work done if you don't need to eat or sleep!

unfortunately, there are many ways to be ableist and if she truly was, to the point where it was an important part of her character with an entire canto centered around it (like hating pm-prosthetics is), then i feel like maybe

just maybe

she would express this in other ways

that don’t involve slaughtering people that just happen to be made of metal.

just a thought.

which brings me to my next point

Prosthetics in the City are about class and money and the societal pressure i mentioned earlier

UNNECESSARY PRESSURE TO CONFORM TO THE AESTHETIC

WORTHLESS SURGERIES THAT POOR PEOPLE CAN’T AFFORD AND YET FEEL THE NEED TO GET ANYWAY

SINCLAIR’S BODILY AUTONOMY BEING STRIPPED AWAY FROM HIM SO THAT HE MATCHES HIS FAMILY

sinclair's family even turned their DOG into a robot for god's sake

it's a fad! it's cool to turn yourself into a robot! it's the new thing everyone is doing, so now you have to do it too to fit in with everyone else! even sinclair himself acknowledges this when talking about his family

also adding a ruina screenshot from this post i saw a while ago that i think you all should read

was hesitant to include it because i wanted to make my point without dragging ruina into this, to prove that you don't NEED the context from ruina to understand kromer's beliefs and motivations, but like. look at this. what the fuck.

"adjust emotions" "completely shut off desires" look me in the eyes and tell me this has ANYTHING to do with disability. i dare you. this is some rich people shit

prosthetics are a LUXURY for some, and a TOOL for others; something for rich people to enjoy, and for poor people to either get a shitty version of, or to sell their soul to afford, so that they can survive in the capitalist's dream world! kind of reminds me of cars, actually

(the extra info abt prosthetics from ruina helps, but as someone who has mostly only played limbus & doesn’t have the full context of the other games, it’s obvious even to me that they're not a disability thing)

in conclusion;

kromer is not ableist

she just really really really likes flesh and is super weird about it

to paraphrase/add to something someone said in that post i linked earlier: the district has an "ideal form" for the human body, and kromer has an "ideal form" for the human body, but these "ideal forms" are not the same

she prefers the human body the way it is, and when she sees this "ideal form" that's like the exact opposite of HER "ideal form" starting to take over, she resorts to being a violent bloodthirsty cult leader about it because she sucks ass and is incapable of being normal

she is a bad person and you are allowed to hate her ofc but please for the love of god hate her for something she’s actually done. stop making shit up

[dystopia-incognito]

Vox's Serendipitous Snare

A cyber-attack by an unknown hacker had Vox's system infected with a virus which somehow made him lose control over his abilities.

Sooo, here's a spicy Vox x Lila (even though I'm not exactly sure where it would fit in their timeline), heavily inspired by this amazing artwork (kind of reluctant to tag the artist since they might not appreciate me doing so with the nature of this work. Do go check them out, it's a great piece). Readers' discretion is advised for this work is pretty much NSFW containing strong language and sexual themes. 

A cyber-attack by an unknown hacker had Vox's system infected with a virus which somehow made him lose control over his abilities. The wires he normally used to plug himself into his supercomputer system seemingly came alive; writhing like snakes to coil tightly around him. As Vox cussed and struggled to stand up from his chair he had lost balance, finding himself sprawled out on his back on the floor of his surveillance room as the wires tangled around him. He had quickly discovered he was no longer able to zap away into an electrical device, unable to connect to the internet and any attempt to struggle out of them only made them tighten more around his body. Completely trapped and out of control, despair began to set in. That was until, by Lucifer's grace, Lila Sinclair stepped out of the elevator and noticed his predicament.

-

Lila attentively approached her employer, her heels distinct and sharp on the smooth metal floor as her footsteps echoed through the darkness of his surveillance room, drawing his attention as she approached his working station where he lay. For a moment she had no idea what she was seeing, she could only tilt her head in disbelief, like a confused animal. "Sir… what's going on here?" She asked and as the ridiculousness of the situation sank in she couldn't repress the little giggle that escaped her. "Shibari is hardly a solo activity."

Vox tried to suppress his frustration and panic, struggling to maintain his composure despite the dire situation, his digital face flickering slightly due to the ongoing attack on his systems. The sight of her standing there, looking down at him with those damned floating eyes of hers only served to remind him how much he hated being caught off guard like this. He lifted his TV head up towards Lila as she spoke, and tried to summon some anger but found it difficult when he was so helpless. With a groan, he instead decided to shoot her a half-hearted glare. 

"I don't know what kind of sick joke this is," he began, his voice straining against the wires that held him captive. "But if you don't find a way to undo whatever this is, I swear I'll make sure you regret ever crossing paths with me."

All of Lila's eyes widened as she stood there and stared at him for a moment as if stunned, before - and to his utter dismay - she let out a roaring laugh. "Good grief," she managed, barely able to speak through her laughter as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "Sir, you do understand this wasn't my doing, right?" She fought herself 'till the chortling finally died down to a little giggle as she lowered herself to her haunches to take a closer look at him. "How did this even happen?"

In his embarrassment and humiliation, Vox couldn't help but feel a sharp twinge of irritation at Lila's apparent lack of concern for his predicament. Her laughter only served to fuel his growing sense of impotence and rage. "Of course this isn't your fault, Sinclair," he snapped, wincing as the wires dug deeper into his flesh. "But you're here now, so fucking fix this mess!" With that, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to regain some semblance of control over his thoughts and emotions. He paused for a moment, schooling his digital visage into a somewhat pleasant yet strained smile. "You're one of the only ones who I can trust with this. So if you would kindly focus on getting me out of these damn things, perhaps we can discuss the details of this truly 'hilarious' situation. How does that sound?"

Lila's eyes narrowed, a little smile playing on her lips. "I could," she agreed, her voice light and playful. "I mean I could definitely try to free you.." She paused, letting her words settle in for a moment before her grin widened as she studied him with the eyes of a predator. "But I must admit, helplessness looks pretty good on you. Sir." She added in a low whisper, emphasizing his title in mockery.

Despite his best efforts to hide it, Vox felt a wave of shame wash over him at Lila's taunt. It was bad enough that he was stuck like this, but having his employee take the piss quickly morphed his shame into a surge of fury coursing through his veins. However, rather than lashing out in anger or frustration, he chose to remain calm and collected. After all, losing his cool would only make him look stupid and wouldn't solve a thing. Instead, he opted for a different approach. "You may think this is amusing," he said, his tone cold and detached, "but remember who you are dealing with. If I were to decide that our little arrangement is no longer beneficial to either of us…" He left the rest unsaid, allowing the threat to linger ominously, a palpable tension thickening the silence between them, like a storm brewing on the horizon just before unleashing its fury.

Lila smiled at him with tenderness - or was it pity? - and to his surprise reached out to trace her fingers along the edge of his face screen, her voice but a low murmur as she spoke to him. "You really cannot free yourself, can you?" She chuckled, tipping up what would've been his chin to make him face her as she eyed him, fascinated. The thrill of the shift in power balance made her face flush and adrenaline course through her veins. "I'm sorry Sir, I can't help but find it very exciting to see you like this, all tied up and frustrated- how about we make some kind of new 'agreement' hm?" She flashed him a toothy little gleeful grin.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Vox allowed himself a small smirk to match her own as he looked up at Lila. As she leaned in closer, the first thing that reached him was the delicate aroma of her shampoo, a fresh, floral, followed by the subtle trail of her perfume, a tantalizing blend, its tangy sweetness and crisp freshness that seemed to capture the essence of taking a bite into a ripe, succulent apple, on a sunny day. But beneath it all, there was something uniquely hers, something he couldn't quite put into words. It was the scent of her skin, warm and inviting, carrying with it traces of her laughter, her vitality, and her rebellious nature. As he inhaled deeply, he felt a sudden surge of heat spread throughout his body. His mind whirled with possibilities, each more depraved than the last, yet one thought persisted: this woman was dangerous. Not because of her power or intelligence -both of which were considerable - but because she possessed something far more potent: the ability to manipulate him in these rare moments of weakness due to their close working relationship. Unable to move, use his powers or even connect to the internet, he realized with wounded pride he had to submit to her brand of control if he wanted to be free.

Lila hummed, clearly pleased by his giving in, she stood to lazily kick off her heels, her eyes never leaving his. "How about… something like this?" She stepped over him and sat down to boldly straddle his hips where he still lay on the floor.

Vox couldn't help but feel a strange combination of shock and excitement. Here she was, sitting on top of him, effectively pinning him down with her weight, assisted by his own wires curled around him. He could see the determination in her eyes, the fire burning bright within her. And yet, there was also a hint of vulnerability, a need for dominance that mirrored his own. It was almost poetic, in a twisted sort of way. Still, he needed to maintain control, needed to ensure that their relationship remained strictly professional. Even though his body screamed otherwise, his mind stayed focused on the task at hand. "Alright," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside him. "The Joke's over. Tell me what you want, and maybe I'll consider it."

"Consider it?" Lila quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "I don't think you're in the position to be delegating much right now, Sir." Her voice was a melodious tease as she leaned towards his face, so close he could feel her breath tickle his face screen. It made him all the more aware of the plush yet strong embrace of her thighs straddling his hips while he could do absolutely nothing about it.

Unable to move, use his powers or even connect to the internet, Vox realized with wounded pride he had to submit to her brand of control if he wanted to be free. He winced in reflex as Lila's fingers danced experimentally over the surface of his screen, caressing his cheekbone before she trailed them down to his mouth, her own lips parting in concentrated fascination as she explored his unique physiology. 

Lila gasped softly in surprise, her eyes widening, the extra six flitted excitedly as her fingertips dipped into the seam of his mouth. She froze her ministrations momentarily as her brain tried to catch up with this newfound discovery; She had expected her employer's digital face, his head seemingly nothing more than a flatscreen TV, to be as flat as the surface of his screen. That was until she saw him eat and drink once, which completely blew her mind, yet she had never dared to ask how it was possible. Hellish magic, she thought to herself, must've dealt him a wildcard when it manifested his body after death. She swallowed thickly as her cheeks felt warm at the thought of having this rare opportunity to have all her questions about the workings of his body answered. "Don't bite me, please.." She whispered, gently, yet her expression was tense. "If you don't bite me I promise I will set you free, okay?" Her thumb pressed against his lips as if asking for entrance.

Vox glared at Lila, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and arousal at her boldness. He didn't like being touched without his consent, trapped like this, especially by someone he considered inferior. What did she hope to achieve with this little game of hers - Was she testing him? Trying to assert her dominance? Find his weaknesses? He knew that he was capable of causing her great harm in this moment of distraction, but she, in turn, had him by the balls so to speak, both physically and emotionally. And yet as he glared up into her eyes he couldn't deny the fact he enjoyed being the centre of attention, especially when it came to his unique physiology. In a twisted way, he revelled in her contract-breaching touches, finding her willingness to seem to want to understand the intricacies of his being undeniably seductive despite himself. For a moment, he almost forgot about the wires that bound him, the loss of power and the humiliation he was enduring as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into her once. "Lila," he breathed, his voice tinged with poorly hidden desire he fought to repress immediately. "My most loyal employee. Your curiosity knows no bounds, does it?" He paused, chuckling darkly despite himself as he allowed the implications of his statement to sink in. "How about you just help me out of this mess, hm? I'll forgive you this gross indignity and we can put the whole incident behind us. It'll be like it never happened. Trust me." As he spoke his left eye flickered with an electrical current and had begun swirling with a mesmerizing pattern as he emphasised his honeyed empty promise with a nice dose of hypnosis.

To his dismay she had just smiled down at him sweetly, surprisingly unaffected by his powers, her thumb now pushing passed his lips to trace his very sharp, sharklike teeth. It was then he felt a familiar pull, a hunger that he hadn't experienced in quite some time. His gaze locked onto hers, and then, without warning, he lunged forward to capture her thumb in his mouth, savouring the sweet taste of her skin. His impossible tongue curled warm and wet around the offending digit. His eyes never left hers as he waited for her response, wondering in silent amusement how she would react to this provocation.

Pleasantly caught off guard by a wave of his own delight he watched Lila squirm on top of him, biting back a moan. 

"Your mouth is so warm," she managed, and he could say the same of that certain part of the body between her thighs which was deliciously pressing down into his groin as he strained into the wires.

-

Not sure if I'll continue this, 'cause- ya knoww- lol (read: I've never actually written explicit content, ha.)

Thank you so much for your interest! <3

Want more?

Vox x OC - Day 1 - First Meeting

& this work can also be found here:

[notladylikes]

she doesn’t usually answer voicemails, but something in the back of her mind told her that this one was important, so chewing on a piece of hair, she sighs and presses the button, puts in the code and begins to listen. most of them are bullshit, but not long before she’s ready to hang up, her mother’s voice is on the other end of the line. 

“eden, you’ve tested me too many times. check the morgue for a little surprise, look at what you’ve gone and made me do.” 

she pulls the phone away to look at it in confusion before hanging up. the morgue? why would her mother send her there? she shrugs her shoulder and shoves the cellphone into the back pocket of her jeans. if her mother was planting a trap for her there, she had to be ready. with colton on standby in case she needed him, the brunette picked herself up and wandered over towards the pick-up truck she’d acquired from her father after he died, saddled herself in, and started the drive over towards swanford.

she hasn’t been in this town in what feels like forever, but the weight of everything still hangs in the balance. she’s going to free these souls, it’s going to take time and energy and a plan that she has not yet come up with ( not for lack of trying of course, but she feels like she fails at every passing turn ) and things are just as difficult. 

she’s tempted to light up a cigarette but before she knows it, she’s there. the morgue is closed, of course, it’s the middle of the night, but she’s got her trusty lockpicks and doesn’t give two fucks if there are any cameras around. what’re the police going to do, anyway, they can’t handle the jobs they do have, let alone worry about a girl breaking into the place of the dead. she puts the flashlight in her mouth after clicking to illuminate the lock and starts at it, it takes her only a few minutes before she’s gotten it done and she can easily make her way inside without as much as a secondary thought.

it’s quiet here, almost too quiet. the halls smell like bleach and other different cleaners and it stings at her nose. she’s twinging a little bit before she makes it down the hall into the room where the bodies are located. so far, so good. nothing seems risky about this current predicament. there’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that something is awry, she just hasn’t figured what that is yet.

pushing open the double doors, she starts with the bodies on the left. lifting up white sheets placed over them for modesty sake, but three corpses in and there’s nothing to be found. that’s when she spots her and her chest constricts, the whole world feeling like it’s going to collapse around her. 

there, on one of the tables, lies annabel. her sweet baby sister, who’s never done anything wrong in her entire life. she races towards that spot and reaches to touch the cold flesh beneath her fingers, brushes a strand of hair out of her her sister’s face just as the tears begin to fall. there’s a scream that could wake these dead that bullets out of her chest, and she collapses to the floor in a fit of rage. this - this was the final straw. she was going to get annabel back, hell or high water, and she was going to stop the madness that was odessa sinclair. 

her mother’s name was now engraved on a permanent hit list in her mind, and she would do anything to bring her to justice. they say the dead look like they’re sleeping - and annabel looked at peace, like she’d been done with the suffering of what was coming. but she could feel her sister’s presence, sense that she had some unfinished business, that she was lingering around for a purpose.

speaking out to the middle of a quiet room, eden begins to talk. 

“i’m going to get you back, and then we’re going to end that bitch.” 

[dirtymercysarchive]

she doesn’t usually answer voicemails, but something in the back of her mind told her that this one was important, so chewing on a piece of hair, she sighs and presses the button, puts in the code and begins to listen. most of them are bullshit, but not long before she’s ready to hang up, her mother’s voice is on the other end of the line. 

“eden, you’ve tested me too many times. check the morgue for a little surprise, look at what you’ve gone and made me do.” 

she pulls the phone away to look at it in confusion before hanging up. the morgue? why would her mother send her there? she shrugs her shoulder and shoves the cellphone into the back pocket of her jeans. if her mother was planting a trap for her there, she had to be ready. with colton on standby in case she needed him, the brunette picked herself up and wandered over towards the pick-up truck she’d acquired from her father after he died, saddled herself in, and started the drive over towards swanford.

she hasn’t been in this town in what feels like forever, but the weight of everything still hangs in the balance. she’s going to free these souls, it’s going to take time and energy and a plan that she has not yet come up with ( not for lack of trying of course, but she feels like she fails at every passing turn ) and things are just as difficult. 

she’s tempted to light up a cigarette but before she knows it, she’s there. the morgue is closed, of course, it’s the middle of the night, but she’s got her trusty lockpicks and doesn’t give two fucks if there are any cameras around. what’re the police going to do, anyway, they can’t handle the jobs they do have, let alone worry about a girl breaking into the place of the dead. she puts the flashlight in her mouth after clicking to illuminate the lock and starts at it, it takes her only a few minutes before she’s gotten it done and she can easily make her way inside without as much as a secondary thought.

it’s quiet here, almost too quiet. the halls smell like bleach and other different cleaners and it stings at her nose. she’s twinging a little bit before she makes it down the hall into the room where the bodies are located. so far, so good. nothing seems risky about this current predicament. there’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that something is awry, she just hasn’t figured what that is yet.

pushing open the double doors, she starts with the bodies on the left. lifting up white sheets placed over them for modesty sake, but three corpses in and there’s nothing to be found. that’s when she spots her and her chest constricts, the whole world feeling like it’s going to collapse around her. 

there, on one of the tables, lies annabel. her sweet baby sister, who’s never done anything wrong in her entire life. she races towards that spot and reaches to touch the cold flesh beneath her fingers, brushes a strand of hair out of her her sister’s face just as the tears begin to fall. there’s a scream that could wake these dead that bullets out of her chest, and she collapses to the floor in a fit of rage. this - this was the final straw. she was going to get annabel back, hell or high water, and she was going to stop the madness that was odessa sinclair. 

her mother’s name was now engraved on a permanent hit list in her mind, and she would do anything to bring her to justice. they say the dead look like they’re sleeping - and annabel looked at peace, like she’d been done with the suffering of what was coming. but she could feel her sister’s presence, sense that she had some unfinished business, that she was lingering around for a purpose.

speaking out to the middle of a quiet room, eden begins to talk. 

“i’m going to get you back, and then we’re going to end that bitch.” 

[choiraugur]

here are my notes on the abraxas trio keyblades btw :D

for kromers keyblade I knew that I wanted to do something resembling melting love or flesh idol because those abnos remind me of him so I put some flesh around a nail base (the nail just resembling her weapon in lcb) and then I was like I kinda wanna add a fire element but idk where or how. so there’s the fire handle variation but I’m not the happiest with it tbh….. after some thinking I was like I kinda also want its keyblade to be primarily white for the purity stuff but since I couldn’t figure out how to do that nicely I just put all the white on her character design. kromers keyblade isn’t my fave tbh- I like the nail base and the flesh being poked by it but it could be better. (im a lazy artist I just named it “nagel und hammer”)

sinclairs keyblade is so silly even before beginning the designing process I knew I wanted there to be tree branches (kinda like invis keyblade?) so I straight up copied his sinner art. his keyblade made me realize how much he fits into the world of kingdom hearts with the light and darkness conflicts he would have a blast im sure. I wanted the left side of the keyblade to look very lively to represent the “light” world and the right side is bleak and lifeless to represent the “dark” world. also the snake going for the apple on the right side I think is silly… the keyblade charm is a coin (: whole time I was like this is kinda just like way to the dawn conceptually

demians was sm fun to make because it’s so 2000s deviantart in essence I like it quite a bit. I associate scythes with demian because his whole “flick of the wrist” reminds me of the swing of a sycthe no? anyway the base is a snake bc im lazy, the shooting stars are there bc of demians constant connections to the stars in lcb, and. since his pendant looks like the gazing eye I gave his keyblade one bc of course he would have connections to the gazing eye. it was supposed to be in the shape of an egg too but the quality is so messed up I don’t think it’s really visible…. also. I tried to make the overall shape of the keyblade be in the shape of the mark of cain (I guess it works better in the scythe version…. the shooting stars on the left are supposed to aid in that). the handle isn’t the most exciting but eh it works. and I think he needs to have the edgy ass angel wing to go with it . Birds you understand

[wherethecolorswontgo]

Distraction

Sub!Gareth x female reader

Warnings: attempted smut 💀 sub!Gareth x sorta dom!reader, oral (male receiving)

Request: Hiii! Love your writing btw, buuuut I would love to see a 18+ !sub!Garethxfemreader, like maybe he’s pissed off because of a campaign and he shows up at her house looking to take his mind off of it? You could really take it whatever direction you wanted!

A/n : sorry this took forever!! So much has been happening recently that just got in the way of writing and I’m so sorry :( this was rushed but I hope you guys enjoy <3 sorry for any mistakes

“Gareth? Its 10pm what the fuck?” you ask the soaking wet boy climbing through your window. “This is the worst campaign in the fucking history of hellfire club y/n!” Gareth explained angrily removing his wet shoes and jacket. “I mean seriously! Wheeler and Sinclair just fucking ditched us without even a heads up” he continued as he made his way to sit on your stuffed animal covered bed, knocking some of them off as he got comfortable.

“because they decided to just not show, Eddie was a fucking dick the whole time!” he said angrily. Honestly this was the first time you’d seen him so mad. “I thought Eddie was always a dick.” You say giggling. Immediately after you realize your boyfriend is in no giggling mood. Gareth glared at you before he seemingly slipped into his thoughts. His mouth twitching as the corners of his lips turn into a smirk “Gareth? What are you smiling about?” You ask the boy, placing your hand on his upper thigh as a comforting gesture. “Um nothing I was just thinking about something that might make me feel better.” He said looking down at your hand placement. he continues “its just something Eddie told me once, he said it guarantees to get your anger out.”

You look at your boyfriend with curiosity and eagerness to help rid him of his stress. “ what is it Gareth?” You ask “you know I’d do anything to make you feel better.” You say as you scoot closer to him. The boy glanced at you with a blush tainting his cheeks as he tries to think of what to say next “Well…it’s just- I don’t know maybe it won’t work..” he stutters “It’s..a dumb idea but..I really want to try” he huffs frustrated. You begin to fit the pieces of the puzzle together realizing what your boyfriend is trying to suggest. Your lips curved into a smile as you giggled at the timidness of the boy. “Gareth I think I know what you want.” You say as you begin to rub your hands up and down your boyfriends clothed chest. Gareth’s cheeks glow a dark red as he feels his arousal growing

“Are you sure y/n?” He asks looking away from your hands and up towards your eyes. “R-really it was just a suggestion if you don’t want to w-we can stop” He stuttered out. Bitting your bottom lip you lean in towards his ear “Sweetheart I would love to make you feel good.” You whisper gently. As you pull away from his ear. Gareth takes one more look into your eyes before you’re crashing your lips into his. You reach up to tangle your hands in his fluffy brown hair and pull gently enough at the strands to earn a whimper from the boy. You nip at his bottom lip silently asking for entrance. Gareth opens his mouth partially, just enough to slip your tongue in. Your tongue explorers his mouth, all the while you feel Gareth begin to rut his hips into yours.

You pull away from his lips earning a whine from the boy. “Don’t worry honey, m’gonna take good care of you” you mutter as you begin kissing down his neck. Low whimpers and groans echo through your bedroom as your boyfriend grows more and more impatient. You bite and nip gently at the sensitive flesh causing Gareth’s noises to grow in volume. You can tell he’s growing more irritated by your slow pace. “Y/n please baby, I don’t have much patience left.” Gareth groans through gritted teeth. You decide to give in to the boy’s pleas and begin unbuttoning the damp blue jeans covering his lower half. He lifts is hips so you can easily side his jeans and boxes down his hips and gain access to his member.

Gareth lets out a shaky breath as you lean down to lick a stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. You continue that same motion slowly until you feel your boyfriend under you lifting his hips up for more. You spit gently on his member to act as lube and wrap your hand around him as you begin to slowly jerk him off. He lets out a loud moan that bounces off the pink paint covered walls in your room as his back arches off the bed slightly. “F-fuck yes so good y/n” he whimpers. You bring your mouth to suck only on the tip while your hand works on the rest. You feel him twitch under your touch as you look up and admire his tightly shut eyes and the hair that sticks to his forehead from sweat and rain. You take all of him in your mouth and moan around him, the vibrations making him cry out and grip your hair.

You can tell your boyfriend is beginning to grow closer to the edge as you speed up your movements and hollow out your cheeks. The hand he has tangled in your hair grips harder as his cock twitches in your mouth. “Fuck m’gonna cum” Gareth grunts as he looks down making eye contact with you “yeah? You gonna cum pretty boy?” You ask him smirking as you replace your mouth with your hand. Your hand is moving at a steady pace as the boy beneath you comes undone. He cums on your hand with a loud cry as he grips the sheets beneath him tightly and screws his eyes shut tight.

As your boyfriend is coming down from his high and resting in your bed you move away for a moment to go and clean your hands. You return moments later seeing your now sleepy boyfriend sprawled out on your bed in only his underwear. “Do you feel any better?” You ask as you sit next to him on the bed. “Fuck Eddie was right.”

[absinthe-and-tea]

Yooooo can I get uhhh headcanons for the slashers to react to an s/o with big boobs? I mean like, special ordering bras bc no stores have your size big.... 😅

//I know the struggle when it come to pants so I got you. Though I am very tired so sorry if it's not the best-

Slasher HCs || S/O W/ Large Breasts

Jason Voorhees

When he first meets you, it's one of the first thing he notices. On accident of course.

He'll get really flustered and distracted by them and if you give him permission, he'll immediately be on you and massaging the soft flesh.

He's confused when you randomly leave the house and go ti the edge of camp to grab a box. When he questions you about and you explain he'll just slowly nod.

He'll start looting his victims for money so that you can buy more bras for yourself since he doesn't work.

If he notices that your in pain from the weight of them, he'll make sure to pamper you more than usual and give you back massages and whatnot.

Michael Myers

He'll just stare. No reaction. No movement. Just stare at you until you feel uncomfortable and try to leave.

He won't let you leave. You're now being kidnapped. Have fun.

He won't really do much unless you move his hands to your chest. He'll grope a bit too hard at first but he'll get softer over time.

He's not very affectionate so he won't give you massages or anything like that but he'll bring you heating pads and icy hot. Things to help ease the muscles.

If you find a credit/debit card by your bedside table, don't be surprised and dont ask where he got it or where the money is coming from.

Harry Warden

Absolutely stops in his tracks the moment he sees you. Pickaxe raised above his head, just completely still as he stares down your cleavage from his height.

Thank God he's wearing a mask bevause his face is bright red and he's pretty sure his nose is bleeding.

If you start running, he'll drop the pickaxe and bolt after you, immediately grabbing you by the boobs on accident.

He's keeping you. And if you explain you need to leave to get custom bras or need internet to order them, he'll do it for you.

Won't complain one bit if you have him massage your back your breasts. The moment you even start asking, he will be on it.

Vincent Sinclair

Super shy about it. He does his best not to look or stare but he thinks it adds to how gorgeous you are.

Thinks your a goddess sent from the heavens.

Won't mind that you have to get custom bras. He'll even help modify smaller ones to fit you if you like them.

He'll be hesitant to give you massages and whatnot, afraid he'll accidentally hurt you but after you reassure him he'll happily oblige.

Bo Sinclair

Instant horny.

He's always touching you any chance he gets. If he sees anyone stare or even look in that direction, they are on the top of his hit list.

He'll offer to hold your breasts for you to relieve the strain on your back with a perverted grin.

Will make sure you have the money to buy specialty bras. Just make sure you buy a few lacy ones for him to admire on you

He'll pick on you if you ask for a massage, making remarks on how much you love his hands on you. Though he'll comply very easily and he actually enjoys the soft moments more than he'll care to admit.

Lester Sinclair

He's immediately invested.

He loves using them as pillows, or gently moving them around.

He notices pretty quick that they can be difficult to live with and does whatever he can to help out. He's not rich by any means but he'll do his best to help support you and buy you the size bras you need.

He loves touching you so it's no bother to him to give you massages.

He's not very tall compared to his brothers so he loves sleeping with his face buried between your breasts and his arms around your waist.

Brahms Heelshire

He watches you constantly. Always trying to get the best angles so he could stare at your cleavage when you bent over.

Sometimes you'll wake up with more added to your list of things to do. Most of them requiring you to bend over.

He'll notice that it starts to take a toll and stop. But instead he'll start crawling into bed with you, running his hands up your shirt to softly grope your breasts.

He's rich so of course he'll give you all the money you need for bras and for any clothes you may want.

He still prefers you steal his clothes tho but be warned he will be very handsy if you do. Even more so than usual.

The Other

He likes them a lot more than he'd like to admit.

While he doesnt express his emotions often, he'll definitely express how much he enjoys them.

Whether it's when they are pressed against him when cuddling or hugging. Or if they are just in his general line of sight.

He gives you soft praises for having the strength to carry them around amd will sometimes make remarks to help, holding out his hands.

He'll massage your back and run baths for you anytime your muscles get too strained.

Will make sure you have the money at all times to buy your specialty bras or comfortable clothes.

Thomas Hewitt

He loves them. He loves holding them. Massaging them.

He will make sure you never have to lift anything. He'll always pick up the harder work for you, knowing how uncomfortable it can be to carry things with your boobs in the way.

He'll run warm baths for you whenever he can. And massage your entire body from head to toe.

He's not rich but he dies know how to sow, meaning he'll make you perfectly fitted bras anytime you want.

Bubba Sawyer

Doesn't quite understand why you seem uncomfortable sometimes. You'll have to explain the difficulties of having big breasts to him.

Like Thomas, he'll make you bras. Though they won't me as neatly made but he's proud of them.

Happy to massage you and whatnot.

Absolutely loves if you sleep on top of him or pressed really close. Might start to rub your breasts without realizing it because he thinks they are soft.

Will happily wait on you if you had a hard day and your back hurts. Lay in bed and let him take care of you.

[corgiplays]

As to not flood @ronance4everbrainrot comment section I'll be posting some of my rambles here

Time line wise the duffer brother absolutely make no sense since it's supposed to be 6 months after the battle of Starcourt which would be December or January depending if you're counting the rest of July or not but it's spring break? So I'm fixing that and my mess of a comment from last night.

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• July: Robin spends her time with Steve mostly since she doesn't know if the kids like her enough (Erica and Dustin hang out with her though since they know her, and Max likes her but won't admit), this month is mainly Robin and Steve bonding some more and starting the healing process of their trauma, Dustin starts to speculate that Robin and Steve might like each other more than friends but both Steve and Robin are very against the accusation, Robin also starts to bond with the rest of the kids

• August: This is where Robin and Murray officially meet without the danger of being killed, the two bond over their conspiracy theories and love for languages, weekly movie nights turn into Murray and Robin hanging out and debating if Elvis is alive or if the recent Bigfoot sighting is real, we also have Nancy and Jonathan having a rockier relationship in the background (if Jonathan is going to movie night Nancy won't be there and vice versa), Erica brings (aka forces) Max to her and Robin's hang outs so Max and Robin start to bond

• September: Before the Byers leave Jonathan and Nancy break up (it was mutual between the two of them), Nancy leaves halfway through a movie that week and Robin decides to find out what happened *emotional talks in Nancy's bedroom*, Nancy would definitely say "I don't know why I'm even sad our relationship was already dead even before we officially called it off", Robin would 100% run her fingers through Nancy's hair to calm her down argue with the wall, Lucas joins Erica and Max when they go to Robin and he gets life advice from Robin "I spent so much of my time in school trying to fit in and being invisible that it took a flesh monster and Russians for me to realize that theirs nothing wrong with doing what you want to do" after that Lucas joins the basketball team, Robin and Nancy also hang out a little more (like 2 more times after the breakup), Robin talks to Murray over the phone since he's not around as much

• October: Max and Robin have a matching Halloween costume (they go as Jack and Wendy from The Shining, Nancy may or may not find Robin hot in her outfit but she thinks she's jealous that their costumes look so good), more Murray and Robin hanging out, Nancy and Robin have a cute moment when the party plays a horror movie and Nancy grabs Robins hand 👀, more bonding between Robin and the rest of the party

• November: THANKSGIVING WITH MURRAY (Robin's mom doesn't do Thanksgiving or really any holiday and just works if she can), Murray teaches Robin how to cook when she stays over for Thanksgiving, Steve finds out that Nancy thinks that's him and Robin are dating (angst time), Erica talks to Robin about her nightmares so Robin plans a sleepover between the two of them at the Sinclair house (Lucas joins since his nightmares haven't been better either), the Sinclair's absolutely love Robin and she gains another family

• December: Big angst, Steve constantly makes excuses to not hang out with Robin or drive her, Robin is hurt (both emotionally and physically because it's not smart to bike on snow and ice), Nancy finds Robin in the girls bathroom before school starts sniffing and running her bloody and shaking hands in warm water (homoerotic hand bandaging, because Robin ate shit on ice going to school), Robin tells Nancy about how distant Steve's been which Nancy things she caused saying she didn't know they were dating, Nancy also offers Robin a ride to her house and asks if she wants her to be her new ride, Max talks to Robin about if it's okay to like guys and girls (Robin cry's when Max comes out to her and teases her about her crush), Christmas is at the Wheelers + Murray is there, Robin's mom is shown more (gaslight and gate keep)

• January: Even more angst, the big fight between Steve and Robin (Steve either calls Robin a slur which he later regrets or says the typical guy when finding out a girl is a lesbian by saying if she tried a guy she's wouldn't be like this, he's an asshole but he gets a sort of redemption), Robin then gets kicked out by her mother a few days after the fight (her mother makes losing her friendship with Steve her fault and definitely brings up her dad, even more angst??) Robin calls out her mom which is how she got kicked out (metaphorically and physically?), she going to Murray's since he's the only one who's been a good parental figure (he definitely knows Robin is a lesbian, she probably came out to him during Thanksgiving), Max, Erica and Lucas search for Robin after she missed their hang out day (she's never missed one before), Max is tempted to beat the shit out of both Robin's mom and Steve until Dustin probably mentions how Robin and Murray are friends, the three go to Murray's and stay with Robin for the rest of the week (Robin tells them what happened and mentions her dad but doesn't elaborate)

• February: Robin comes back with Murray who bought an apartment for Robin to live in while he goes back and forth between his home and the apartment, Robin and Steve relationship is non existant and very strained, Max, Lucas and Erica are the Robin protection trio, Robin finds out that Steve has been following Nancy like a lost puppy so Nancy and Robin's relationship is also strained

• March: This is where Steve and Robin's friendship comes back, it's not what it was before but their on better terms, Nancy and Robin aren't talking though since Nancy thinks that whatever has happened between the two means that their back together and it hurts her thinking about it (she thinks she's jealous of Robin but it's actually Steve), Max and Erica tear into Steve (they threaten him) while Lucas does his best disappointed dad face

• April: Season 4 starts, mostly everything is canon here idk if we wanna change some things so I'll just leave it as it is normally

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Oh boy that took forever, little thought I though of was that Robin's dad is dead (Rip man 😞) I'm thinking car accident while Robin was at the wheel (idk if they had permits back then but something like that) which is why she doesn't have a license along with being poor

Comment and ideas are welcomed and have a nice day/night 🫡

[glitchstoxicwaste]

Tongue Tied

@boneeating--baastard, You wanted these, you got em. 

Slashers | Bo Sinclair

TW: Make out, Soft Bo, if you squint you could see some sexual innuendoes 

Continue under the cut!

You were in the kitchen, shuffling through all the leftovers, throwing out the stuff that was old and tossing the dishes into the sink. You heard him come into the house, you always knew when it was him, considering the door would be slammed shut by his strength that he is painfully aware of, his grunts as he propped himself up on the wall and removed his work boots, his sigh as they were finally off, and every step he took, loud and hard thuds from his heel hitting the ground with force. Not only did you hear him, but you could smell the car oil, sweat, and cheep cologne mixing through the air, along with a hint of cooked flesh from the hot sun cooking his flesh alive. Plus the feeling of his feet colliding with the floor, sending vibrations throughout and right into the bottoms of your feet.

He came into the kitchen, you expected him to grab some food or even your ass, wanting his usual handful of the plump flesh he so enjoyed. But instead, he grabbed your arm as you placed another bundle of expired and rotten food onto the counter, he didn’t grab hard, on the contrary, it was so gentle it was if he was scared to touch you at all. He bent over slightly and grabbed your other shoulder, maneuvering you into a standing position. You closed the fridge door with your foot, assuming he was extremely angry to the point he was trying hard to control his anger, you assumed he was going to bend you over somewhere in the open and have his way with you, but... he didn’t.

Your eyes widened as he pulled your body flush with his, squatting down a bit and lifting you up with ease, enjoying how, since you’re 5′1 and he’s 6′1, he is exactly one foot taller than you. As he held onto you, his ice blue eyes admiring your flushed face, he knows you’re shocked he can hold you, he knows how you view yourself, he knows all of it, yet he acts ignorant.

A soft, breathy whistled slipped past his lips, catching your attention, you looked at him and made eye contact, he smiled, flashing his pearly white’s at you. Leaning in slowly, he pecked your lips, an obvious hint as to what he wanted, to which you obliged with a smile. His semi-chapped lips placed gently onto yours, the smile never fading.

What started out as lingering lips, slowly turned into more, as your lips opened and closed in sync, one overlapping the other slightly, tongues barely meeting at all. Soon he heated it up, gliding his muscle around your mouth slowly, memorizing the feeling, the taste, every nook and cranny explored more. Passion and admiration swimming between you two. 

He pulled you up higher, you were slipping from his grip slowly, damn gravity. But in doing so he had accidentally caused your front teeth to have their own sensual moment, to which you both got slightly hurt. He glanced at you to see if you were okay, but you had done the same, he snorted slightly as you both then burst into a fit of laughter and giggles.

As the laughter slowed to only breathy chuckles, he watched you, he swore he fell more in love with you just now. He put his forehead onto yours and closed his eyes, refusing to let you re-plant your feet to the ground below.

“Y’know”

He began, voice soft and tender, slightly gruff from rarely using it softly.

“I love ya, I know I don’ say it as much as I prolly should, an’ I know I sure as hell barely show it, but I love ya. You ain’t some quick fuck, ya ain’t some toy, an’ ya definitely ain’t a last resort or stress relief fer after a bad day or if I wasn’t able ta get some random ass chick or guy inta bed wit’ me. Yer way more than some roadside fling, yer real, a gem, an angel that popped up and gave me hope.”

He paused, a shaky breath escaping him, he opened his eyes and looked into yours, tears causing his beautiful blues to shine more, but the emotions hidden within, the vulnerability in them, fear and insecurities swimming in his irises, you could tell this wasn't some shtick to make you melt into going to bed with him, you could tell his intentions were pure. He was showing you a side of him he didn’t even know he had.

“You make me a better person, I love ya, more than you’ll ever know, more than I will ever know, I love ya so much darlin’.”

A peck to the lips sealed his mini rambles, the tears gliding down his sharp cheekbones, a bright smile and groggy chuckle vibrating against the both of you. Tonight wasn’t for physical pleasure, no, tonight it was for passion, emotional passion, a day with no sex, just cuddles, and pure, raw emotions as you clung to one another.

He loves you, and he couldn’t even imagine a life without you by his side.

[feelin-woozy]

Title: Stoke The Fire

Word Count: 1984

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x female!reader

Warnings: Daddy kink, breeding, degradation, dumbification

Thanks @slasherrabbitmadness for the inspiration and the absolute brain rot that she has given me with the idea of dilf!Bo :) go check out her dilf Bo stuff because it's,,, chefs kiss.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend time over at Bo’s house; it became almost like a second home over the years. Your father and Bo have a relationship that bloomed from the moment they entered business together a few years back. It wasn’t easy to imagine what life was like before Bo became so close to your family.

A warm summer breeze blows past you, ruffling the soft saffron colored cotton of your dress against your thighs. Of course, you don’t miss the way Bo’s blue eyes dart to the newly exposed flesh of your thigh, but beyond that, he doesn’t make a move, just sips the beer in his hand and takes another easy drag off the cigarette.

Your dad is prattling on about this and that, talking about some jackoff who tried to rip him off the other day at work claiming that his rate was ludacris and that there were a dozen other mechanics that could do it for cheaper. And sure, that may have been true, but the quality wasn’t there. It wasn’t biased, perhaps a little, but it was still a well known fact that your dad and Bo ran the best mechanic shop in town; it’s why they got away with the rates they charged. And there was always a sense of taking care of the community, their community, that had the townsfolk whipped and willing to shell out the money.

The lively strumming of guitars swirled around you, and you bounced your leg to the steady beat of the Seether song that played over the speakers. It was heavier than the usual stuff that your dad played around the house, but then there were many things about Bo that were heavier. Perhaps that’s why they worked so well together.

Your attention is drawn away from the melodic beat and easy going conversation between Bo and your dad when a small hand tugs at the hem of your dress. You turn your head to look down at the young girl, blue eyes staring up at you with a smile that lacked a few teeth. You return the smile to her, waiting for her to speak and voice whatever thoughts swirled around in that head of hers.

You had nearly forgotten that Oliva was here with the three of you. Bo’s time with her split with his ex-girlfriend, who he had some choice words about every time she was brought up. The young girl was undeniably Bo’s child through unruly brown hair bouncing with every shift she made and blue eyes that were carbon copies of her father’s. You couldn’t help but wonder what she got from her mother; Bo didn’t have any photos of her around the house.

“Will you come play with me?” She reaches for your hands, her skin slightly sticky from God knows what, but you don’t pull away; you just give her hand a small squeeze in return.

“Olive, sweetie, don’t bug her. Go play by yourself okay?” Bo says softly, a sort of sternness shining through his words. You lift your gaze to look at Bo, and you catch a glimpse of fondness that softens the lines of his face. Olivia whines, eyebrows furrowing as if she’s about to pitch a fit at Bo’s words.

“It’s okay Bo,” You smile at him, wide and radiant as you get to your feet without letting go of Olivia’s hand. “I don’t mind.”

Bo just nods his head with a bit of a shrug before turning his attention to your dad again. However, you don’t miss the way his eyes surveil you as Olivia drags you to the small backyard park that Bo and your dad had built together the previous summer.

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It’s almost two weeks later when you find yourself bent over the laminate countertop, hands scrambling for purchase as you’re pushed forward again and again. You hadn’t even been here for five minutes, coming by only to grab some tools for your dad to borrow, wearing that same saffron dyed dress you had worn last time that you were over here. Bo’s worn trucker hat lost to the linoleum, jeans pushed only half way down his thighs, leaving his belt to jangle incessantly with every movement. The edge of the countertop digs into your hip bones saved only for the dress that’s bunched up over the curve of your ass. It does little to pad and protect you against the vicious rocking of Bo’s hips, but it’s better than nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy every fuckin’ day,” Bo groans, grimey fingers curling into your hips and dragging you back against himself. He stays put for a moment, keeping your bodies pressed flushed together. “Been thinkin’ about knocking you up.”

The way your pussy flutters around his length is indecorous, the whimper you let out even more so. But it can’t be helped; hearing the filth that dripped from Bo’s lips always had that effect on you, but there was something about the way he said it that made your insides churn. The serious edge to his words that wasn’t there the times you had fucked prior, the way his words turned from a pipe dream to something that could be a reality.

“Does my baby like that idea?” Bo titters, the noise breathless and broken. A testament to the effect that this was having on him as well. “Like the thought of me fuckin’ a baby into you?”

“Fuck, Bo.” Your head drops, cheeks pressing into the chilled countertop. You don’t even pretend like this wasn’t doing it for you, hips rocking back against his to tempt him into staying true to your word. “Yeah, yeah fuck.”

He leans over you, the thin cotton t-shirt dragging along your sweat-slicked back as he pressed his lips to your neck, teeth catching the rosy skin. For a moment, you think that he was about to leave a mark to bloom against your skin, a small sign over ownership that would have you avoiding your parents’ home till the skin healed, and you could look them in the eyes once more.

“Gunna have to get you off that birth control of yours,” Bo murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before he pulls away again, looming over you and admiring the way he has you splayed out like a wrecked mess in his kitchen. The windows open, and the back sliding door cracked so neighbors would be able to hear every little indecent noise that passed your lips like a mantra. You were glad for the arborvitae that lined the fence. It gave you some privacy, even if it wasn’t much, and it did ease your nerves considerably. “After that, maybe I’ll just keep you on my cock day ‘n night till I know it took.”

Your hands curl into fists at the thought, knuckles blanching under the force. The idea has your mind melting; nothing has ever sounded so perfect to you. It was almost insane how easily Bo got you cockdrunk, how easily he bent you to every whim that crossed his mind. But there was something about his smile, his scent, the way he could play you as if the two of you were made for each other that left you a strung out fanatic.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” Bo growls, nails cutting crescent shaped moons into your hips. If he wasn’t dragging you so perfectly through the trenches of pleasures, the pain might have brought you from the lust addled fog, but instead, it only shoves you down further. It made you feel like you were drowning, drowning in his words, the scent of sex that hung headily around you, the obscene noises that sounded like your own but were so far away, the way skin slapped against each other and the wet noises of your pussy dripping around his thick cock. It was all too much, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your orgasm swept you pitilessly under the current. “Come on baby, if you wanna cum you gotta tell Daddy how badly you want it.”

A sob tears through your chest, thighs shaking as you’re forced onto the points of your toes with each thrust. Bo laughs above you cruelly, not once slowing down and allowing you a moment of reprieve to find your words. There was a satisfaction in seeing the way he strung you along, bringing you so close to the edge, and you knew that if you didn’t give in, give him what he wanted, he would pull away.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. There had been many times he’d pull out only to jerk himself off to completion and paint your pussy, or your panties, only to force you to wear his cum as a reminder. So you try with a renewed desperation, to try and formulate anything of sense before Bo had the chance to pull out of you.

“I-I fuck,” You stutter, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every time the words were cocked and loaded on your tongue, the way he brushed against that spot within you had them rolling off your tongue in the form of drool. If it didn’t feel so fucking good, it would’ve been beyond humiliating.

“You look fuckin’ pathetic like this,” Bo sneers, hips stuttering. You knew he was close, his words coming out a sharp rasp as each thrust was punctuated with a guttural growl. “Just an empty headed slut made to be knocked up. S’okay baby, Daddy will take care of you.”

That’s what sends you over the edge, cunt clenching down like a vice around the cock plowing into you. It must have been good because you’re distantly aware of the sound of Bo choking on a noise within his throat. And God, do you wish that you were more aware and not floating listlessly through the waves of pleasure so you could see just how wrecked Bo was. You wanted to acknowledge the way graying brown hair clung to his forehead, cheeks flushed as he gritted his teeth. It was always one of your favorite sights. A low moan tumbles from the two of you at the feeling of warmth filling you, the gentle pulsing of his cock as he empties himself within you.

The two of you remained like that for a moment, and you silently wished it would never end as you tried to quell your racing heart and the rapid movement of your chest. Then, when Bo begins to pull out, you whine, but he only snickers, fingers moving from your hips to dance along your folds, running through the slick and cum that dripped out.

“Ya mean it?” You whine softly, pressing back as he pushes cum back inside of you.

“Mean what, baby?” Bo muses, fingers moving at a taunting pace. You crane your neck a bit to stare up at Bo, catching the post sex bliss that overlays his face, the smug look that only makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching.

“Are you going to knock me up?” Your tongue flicks out over your lower lip, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thick fingers stretching you open once more. Bo groans low in his throat at the thought, and you peek your eye open to catch sight of the twisted grin on his face and the dark intent that swirled within blue eyes.

“Course I am,” Bo says matter of factly as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to grab the lace panties you wore and pull them back up over you. With a pat on your ass, he begins to tuck himself back into his pants, walking over to the fridge. “Would be a shame to let that pretty pussy a’ yours to go to waste.”

[the-slasher-files]

WHAT A KILLER

BO’S S/O REVEALING THEY ARE ALSO A SLASHER (Vincent is also kind of in this)

TW: blood, gore, killing, swearing (that’s inevitable with Bo)

THIS has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and idk why I'm so iffy on posting it but hopefully you guys in enjoy this! It's different from a lot of what I write and I do like it, it's just specific lol.. Also the s/o in this, was the bare bones of what Amaria (my oc) started as... hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Bloodcurdling screams could be heard through the normally silent town of Ambrose as dusk fell. Crimson painted the skies and the asphalt, almost mirroring each other in perfection. Crows calling for the wasted souls Bo obliterated and Vincent could not fix. 

Shuttering at the sounds heard you could not sit there on the old couch any longer, just playing with your fingers trying to push down the urges you felt deep down. They beckoned you like the crows did for flesh. You tried so hard to hide this side but it was only a matter of time you knew, the demon had to rear it’s head eventually if you really wanted to stay in Ambrose forever, and you did. You found the man of your twisted dreams here. 

Before you were held in Ambrose against your will; well in the beginning it was against your will but that quickly faded and you fell madly in love with your kidnapper and the town he held so close; you were a drifter. A wanderer of gypsy’s blood. Never managing to hold in one place for more than 6 months, the only time you had a home was when you were growing up, but having a disgusting home life you left at 16. Fleeing home and trying to run from your growing desires you instead made a treaty with your urges, running towards them, allowing them to show when you were safe and comfortable. 

Bo never knew, all these months as you played the part of his defenceless little housewife it was growing harder to tell him. Of course you wanted to tell him but you were scared of him not trusting you, and terrified of what he would do to you; pretty ironic when you considered doing the same things to him. 

Casually you would throw a joke out there about killing someone or dreaming of snapping someone's neck, however they weren’t jokes to you. It was your wicked reality. Bo was none the wiser, but Vincent, in his quiet embers saw something beyond your delicate eyes, something he saw within himself perhaps. He started to believe your jokes and comments, carefully watching you. Wondering if for once there was a different kind of evil in the town, or if he was becoming the hunted instead of the hunter. 

Climbing the stairs and reaching the bedroom you paused, pulling in a large breath and exhaling, closing your eyes. You sank to your knees against the hardwood, pulling a long black, locked plastic box from under the bed, methodically you played with the lock and swung the top open. Placing your eyes upon the weapon your body tensed but your soul relaxed, a sick war inside your head divided. 

Running your hands along the cold metal of the black blade, you felt home once again, blood could almost be felt on your hands and screams faded in your ears. Hunger grew. A deep pleasure surged through you. 

It was your 18 inch steel black machete; with ridges menacingly flaunting themselves across the top, like a dragon’s spine. The grip you had customized to fit your hand perfectly, needing it to act like an extension of you. It was adorned proudly with a thin rope of bright red fabric tied around the end of the handle, ripped from your first victim’s shirt, it’s tails would drift gracefully in the wind juxtaposing the damage the weapon could do.

Shaky hands picked up the weapon and it seamlessly melting into your grip, your eyes darkened as you rose from the floor, feeling your demons begin to yip and howl like a pack of starving wild dogs ready to feed. Giving yourself another deep breath in and out you kicked the box back under the bed and started down the stairs and out the front door with purpose.   

The hot sticky Louisiana air hit you, flowing in your hair and the tail of fabric on your machete. Screams begin to reach you in swells, coming closer flooding you like the rising tides as a younger woman was running towards you. Under the dim streetlights she could not see what you held, for the black blade melted into the shadows perfectly, as intended. To her you were hope, a way out of her hell, maybe you could help her. The poor thing could not have been more wrong in her panic-stricken judgements. 

You could smell her blood pouring from her injuries Bo inflicted and her desperate cries, it was all too much to you, it was just like blood in the water to a shark, your twisted instincts began to take over. Eyes darkened on the prey that was heedlessly bounding towards you and with one swipe, that was it. Blood was spilt. You had killed again and it felt so damn right. Looking down basking in the sight, she was slit ear to ear, the gash threatening to show the tips of the vertebrae at the back of her neck. The demons were lurching beside you pushing you forward for more. More blood. More affliction. 

Studying the surroundings, Bo was nowhere to be found, unusual for him to let his prey escape his hunt. It was quiet now as you walked on down the street, yellow fluorescents guided your path, and the homes were just barren shapes acting as blinders leading you onward for the man you dreaded seeing at this moment, the demons couldn’t care less about your emotions or feelings, they just carried your body to more gore. 

Rounding the corner, the gas station lights gave up a tangled mess on the ground. Two men were wrestling for some sort of weapon that glinted in the lights above them. Cursing yells, threats and grunts spilled out of both of them, one more than the other of course. Bo always had a mouth on him and no one could ever shut him up, it made you smirk as you approached, but suddenly there was a sharp yell and the stranger was on top of Bo. The man had his back to you and just had eyes for the greasy mechanic, beating him with the weapon you could now see was a wrench. You could feel a burning anger rise from your core and Bo’s howls were just fuel to the fire.   

Steadily making your way up to the two wrecks of people, now standing behind the stranger you forced your long rigid blade through the core of the man, impaling him right under the sternum. Loud clanging of metal rang through the street as the man dropped the wrench as his body went limp, heaving over the weapon within him. With your boot you carefully directed the corpse off your machete and on the asphalt next to Bo, leaving your face sprayed with red from the spine of the blade. 

Your eyes met with saucer wide baby blues causing you to let out a silent breathy laugh licking your lips of blood, sickly savouring the unusual copper. Bo laid on the ground a moment longer just taking in for sure what he saw from his precious angel. Just as you were about to speak but Bo beat you to it.

“I FUCKIN’ KNEW IT!” he gloated hysterically, leaving you more than a little shocked. “I KNEW IT!” Bo got to his feet and almost looked like he was going to do a little dance, you just stood there in the streetlight beginning to laugh, relived but worried as if he had hit his head or something. It was never a dull moment with Bo that’s for sure. 

“Are you ok? like seriously, your beginning to scare me” you puzzled as he sauntered his way up to you cocky as ever. 

“I’m fuckin’ fantastic... I knew there was something in you” he held you against his chest and put his head on yours “something awful behind those beautiful eyes, my little angel of death” you laughed against him as he kissed your crown, then pulled away looking you dead in the eyes. “Why did you think I kept you around all these months? you made me wait a while... and you know how much I hate waitin” 

The words burned in your skull, was that really the only reason? Bo was still unpredictable to you in ways, especially with his dark side. Maybe he was just going to kill you now, maybe he didn’t love you, it could’ve just been the wicked charm he carried effortlessly. 

Something came alive in his blue eyes, scaring you slightly but trying to play it off when you cupped his strong jaw, breathing slowly. 

“People are my specialty baby” he drawled, then pulled you roughly into a kiss. Sweat, oil, cigarettes, and blood coated the kiss leaving you breathless as he often did. 

Bo was right, people were his perfected craft; charming, seducing, lying, playing up the sob story about him and Vincent being in foster care after both parents died. Hell, he could speak French Cajun so he could be more versatile, and charm his way out of any situation in any part of Louisiana. Bo always knew everything you were feeling even before you said it, now that you think back on it. 

“Bo? you still love me?” you hesitating in your question not sure if you wanted the answer. 

This caught his attention as his jaw tensed and eyes hardened “What would make you think I don’t?... sure I would’ve liked to know earlier, sure, but this just makes you better,” he looked you up and down like a predator before coming close to your ear and purring “and hotter.” You yelped as you were suddenly tossed over his shoulder and carried down to the basement of the garage.     

Fidgeting with the lock for a moment he swung the door open and placed you in his chair. “Oh, Sinclair there is a special place in hell for us, and I will meet you there” you laughed as Bo climbed on top of you, clashing his lips against yours, hungry and lustful.  

[violets-page]

Shot down Pt.3

Allie takes over your mind and all Raven can do is watch, feeling helpless.

TW: self-harm (kinda extreme)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Masterlist

You relied often on the extension of crutches to be mobile. However, things that worked on the ark were not always as great on the ground.

Things like executions, lunch, and crutches, were all much better on the ark. All involved much less suffering. The bumpy terrain and muddy roads made you slip often. Walking made you anxious, afraid that at any moment your legs would give up and you would plummet to the soil. Stuck there until someone become willing to help. Needless to say, you avoided it at all costs. Or at least avoid walking alone.

Today was one of those days where you were forced to. Raven was working on some sort of electric fence around the camp and had begrudgingly left your side after you begged her to. You knew that being cramped inside all day with nothing to work on was worse than hell for her. It had rained earlier and the ground was a cesspool of piss and mud. Falling into it was ill-advised.

You were immensely grateful for the returning strength to your arms and spent many hours working out. Pull-ups were your preference. Without them hobbling along would have been much harder. Raven often commented on them with a smile and a laugh, it always made you blush.

The jagged metal of the crutches sank deep within the soil each time you set them down. It took forever for you to get more than a few feet from your tent, but by that time you had already grown too tired.

You practically fell onto a stray box before hurling the crutches into the mud next to you. You felt your foot twitch. Abby had stated this was a good sign of recovery but to you, it just felt like a painful reminder of your limits.

Your head fell forward as your palms dug into your eyes, holding back the tears like a damn.

The chip in your pocket felt like a hundred pounds as you pulled it out

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When Jaha gave you the chip he had seemed so sure of himself, so convinced that these people would be happy. Hell, the man fell from space in a death capsule, was stranded in the desert, almost died, and somehow, and he looked happier than anyone else on this damned planet.

You had run out of other options. The worst that could happen? It turned out to be a piece of plastic and you were left with the unsatisfying taste of dirt.

You held it against your lips toying with the idea, you had run out of time, out of patience, out of hope.

Raven had slowly gotten over her guilt (all thanks to you) and due to your inability to travel more than 30 feet without screaming, you barely saw her. Abby was the only one who checked in regularly and most likely because you spent most of your time in her makeshift waiting room.

Waiting.

You were always waiting. Waiting for your friends to return, waiting for your leg to heal, waiting for love.

Before you could stop yourself you let the chip slide onto your tongue. It dissolved quickly at tasted faintly like salt and dough.

You sat there, waiting for euphoria, waiting for...something.

The kids on the ark sometimes smoked herbs. You thought it would feel like that, the world fading around you as bright colors floated around and everything else just ceased to matter.

Instead, you wiped tears from your eyes all the while cursing Thelonious. You grabbed your crutches, the walk back would take your remaining energy, but better than then be stuck in the oncoming rain.

You felt your annoyance growing with each step as the crutches creaked irritated by your weight on them. You couldn’t take it anymore, the anger came crashing like waves. You slammed the crutches in the mud with a scream. You hated them. They poked you in the arm, they were too tall and made your shoulders ache, they sunk into the ground and were too nosy.

you stood in front of the crutches before raising your leg to stomp on them.

You took your anger out, everything that was wrong with the world you suddenly blamed the crutches for.

“Stupid mother fu-”

Your stomps slowed to a steady pat before halting completely. You were moving, standing. Without the aid of crutches. You took a few more steps, and a few more, and some more. Until your eyes were met with a pristine pair of black heels.

Your eyes trailed up the ivory-toned legs and over the tight red dress of a figure, you'd never seen before. You stared at her in confusion.

“Hello y/n”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven hadn’t realized what was happening till it was too late.

You fought against the hold on Clarke and Bellamy in a fit of screams. The forest looked the same to you no matter where you were and your eyes hungrily searched for anything you could recognize

You heard the familiar faint whispers of Raven’s ‘I’m sorry’ before a needle was plunged into your neck and everything went dark.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

The drive to the grounder camp felt long and hopeless to Raven. She spent the drive running her hand through your hair hoping part of your unconscious mind would recognize her touch and be soothed by it.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy hopped out of the truck to reason with the vicious-looking grounder. Her Breath hitched waiting and hoping they would be able to reason with her. She couldn't bear to lose you.

You were all she had.

She felt you shift in her arms, your eyebrows furrowed and she could see your eyes flutter but remain close. For a second she forgot the situation, a gentle smile down at your waking form. Then reality came crashing.

“Hurry she's waking up!”

You felt the fabric of a blindfold as rough hands shoved it down before you could even open your eyes.

Hands were on your body, their touch felt familiar but not enough that you could place the figure. The blindfold cocooned your ears and amplified the sound of your breathing so that Clarke’s voice was a dull mumble.

You felt your body being released from your arms as your back sunk it to something soft and shiny. You immediately started trying to get free. Attempting to rip the blindfold off, you felt your hands and feet grabbed by multiple sets of limbs. Restraints were bound sloppily but tightly around your wrists, with the addition of the blindfold and multiple pairs of hands trying to hold you down you weren't making much, if any progress.

The smartest thing to do was to obliviate one of these obstacles. You choose the easiest one. Your hands clawed at your face, you could faintly feel your skin under your nails as you ripped at it before your fingers were finally able to latch onto the blindfold, yanking it down and around your neck.

Alie’s familiar red dress stood out strongly against the dull tones of the unfamiliar room. The group stood in tense anticipation as you snapped your head around, trying to recognize the room. You knew it wasn't part of the ark, it was too dirty and earth-like. The fur rug made you think Trikru but where you had no idea. When your mind drew a blank Alie grew frustrated. Or at least, her version of frustrated.

“We need to know where you are.”

Your thrashing resumed this time tenfold.

“WHERE AM I. WHERE AM I.”

They struggled to hold you down as you fought past your physical capabilities to escape. They all had a grip on a limb making movement nearly impossible. Injuries, even if you couldn’t feel them, weakened you.

You turned to the closest person, who happened to be Raven, and sunk your teeth into the flesh of her wrists. It was shallow, she yanked her hand back before you could go deeper. Her pain barely registered in your mind, her tears didn’t tug at your heart like you knew they should have.

Instead, you seized the opportunity to reach over and punch Jasper square in the nose. His hold loosed but by then Raven had latched back on, the blood from her wrists trickled slowly down onto your exposed skin. With each failed attempt at escaping struggling grew harder.

Clarke and Bellamy had been quick to grab a spare rope, using it to bound your hands and feet to the posts of the strange bed. You screamed in frustration as Alie stared at you. She showed no emotion, just the same semi-pleasant stare she always held.

“LET ME GO.”

You knew the awful things Alie could do and you were no stranger to them. The scream was a mix of terror and anger. You tossed your body up and down hoping to break the posts, the bed, something to set you free.

“LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO.” Your voice grew more strained with every word. If you could feel pain your throat would probably ache immensely.

The group stepped back after thoroughly double-checking the knots. The sheer look of horror was displayed across all of their faces and it vexed you deeply

Didn't they know you were doing this for them? For her?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the other room, watching you made her feel sick to her stomach. Not that listening to your screams from a different room made it any better. She could hear the creaking of the bed and pained screams throughout the entire house. So she stood, waiting anxiously with Clarke for their next move.

Her nails had been chewed to the beds and she knew that if- when you came to, you would scold her till her ears bleed.

Clarke said she knew where to get a wristband and Sinclair knew how to alter it to suit their needs. But Raven grew nervous with the time it was taking for either of them to follow through on these promises.

She glanced to where Clarke was talking to the grounder and felt her muscles tense when the girl gave Clarke an angry glare. Whatever Clarke was trying to achieve, she was doing a horrible job of it.

By now all of her nails had been chomped town to raw skin so she switched to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth trying to drown out your ever-fainting screams.

Raven let an audible sound of relief when Clarke set the wristband on the table. It had been a silent mutual agreement that Sinclair would be the one to work on the wristbands.

One part because He knew them best and the other because Raven couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling long enough to do the necessary machine work.

“So how do we do this?” Clarke seemed the calmest of them all. Losing Lexa had numbed her in a way.

“If we can turn it into an EMP we can use it to fry the bitch out of her head. The electromagnetic pulse would destroy the critics. You just need to reverse the polarity and...”

Raven droned on in her explanation, faintly aware of how quiet the neighboring room had grown.

“We don’t know what the chip embedded in her brain is like, it could cause a bad outcome”

“Worse than this?” Her question was met with a defeating silence. Not that she expected anyone would answer. She wasn’t feeling too strongly about the plan either but she couldn't watch you slowly break apart, her lover disappearing with every day until all that's left would be a hollow shell. She tried to reassure herself that it was what you would want.

The group continued to talk, working up a solution until they had a solid plan mapped out. Monty and Octavia had fled to the dropship to gather the necessary parts while everyone else had stayed behind.

She made her way back into the room to watch you.

Maybe for a moment, she could envision you back to normal, pretending that she was simply watching you blissfully relax.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the corner of the room. Her posture was rigid and he hands crossed over her chest relaying defensive positioning.

Not that you even cared. You surveyed your bound wrists with a bored expression. Her eyes fluttered between you and the floor constantly. The floor was basic dirt and about as interesting as well... dirt. Meaning that she was avoiding your eyes.

You rolled your wrists thoughtfully considering a slip-out process, you knew how Raven worked, how she thought, her weak spots. You could take her easily. You tugged at the right wrist restarting trying desperately to wrench your wrist free.

Alie watched you robotically her red dress unnatural in the atmosphere.

“With marginally more slack, you could reach those knots.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to you before. without pain inhabilitating you, you’d be able to dislocate your shoulder, properly creating more slack.

You twisted, you could feel the muscles in your arm pulling taut as you put out exasperated grunts. Raven’s eyes snapped to yours, her worry clouding her fear.

“Y/N, please...”

When you made no effort to stop she took note of your clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“What- what are you doing?”

Her voice no longer had any effect on you. Your heart didn’t ache when you saw the pain in her eyes, you didn’t feel the need to comfort her when you could sense her anxiety. You were trying to help her, get her to take the chip so that you could be happy together so that her pain could end. But until she did, she was just a pest in your mission.

You kept tugging, you could feel your muscles grow stressed as you got closer to your goal. The grinding of your bones scrapped your ears as your arm popped out of its socket.

Raven stood frozen in shock. The fear on her face was evident but she was too startled to have a reasonable reaction.

“There is no pain here Ray, you could be free.”

Maybe it was the nickname rolling off your tongue, it’s lack of love or familiarity, or maybe she saw you trying to chew off the restraints, but she finally snapped out of it.

“STOP IT! GUYS.”

The blood has started to run back down your arm. Somehow in forgetting pain you also forgot about death. Raven didn’t know what to do, how to stop you, and stop the bleeding all at once.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest as images of your still body lying in a pool of blood clouded her thoughts.

“Oh god.”

She reached for your head, her calloused fingers against your cheeks as she tried to turn your head away from her wrists. You snapped at her, your teeth clenching around the air, but it was enough to get her to let go. The memory of your teeth in her skin and the stinging of her wrist were a painful reminder of how far you would go.

Clarke came in as you resumed chewing on the restraints. So close...

Before you could get them Bellamy and Raven had yanked you away. Enforcing your body in its position with more rope.

Clarke shouted at you to stop but you drowned her out, straining your neck in a futile attempt to reach the restraints.

“Alie.”

Your head snapped to Jasper’s as the familiar probing sensation in your brain occurred. Everything went dark,  when you came back to it, Alie was staring at you. The slightest traces of distaste etched across her red lips.

“Let them help you”

You froze, staring straight ahead. For a moment everyone else did too. Probably expecting you to lash out again and bite one of them. When you didn’t Raven quickly took to untying your wrists.

You watched her with faint interest. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to save her but you knew you did, somewhere deep down. Your eyes traveled down her arms. Her fingers were latched tightly around your arm. The teeth marks were barely visible, caked under her dried blood. Or maybe that was yours. You felt something in you ache, you can’t feel pain but this feeling... felt painful?

You pondered upon its appearance as Clarke used her foot to relocate your shoulder.

You didn’t even flinch.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven had volunteered to stay with you. God knows why, you had hurt her enough. You rolled her eyes when she did, not that anyone noticed.

She sat at the end of the bed. you didn’t really mind, not that you could even do anything if you did.

You looked her up and down.

“Do you still cry?” It wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes shot up to yours. Her hands tensed in her lap and you momentarily took note of her bloody nails.

“What”

“You used to cry over my leg. Why did you stop?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it not knowing how to answer, or who was even talking to her.

“If I’m being honest I think it was quite selfish of you. I’m the one with the fucked up leg and yet, I was the one comforting you about it.”

Her expression hardened but the tears in her eyes stayed. your stomach ached again but you ignored it.

“Get out of her head Alie”

You smiled at her, a nice teethy one, completely catching her off guard.

“It’s not Alie. It’s me Raven, your- your.” but your mind drew a blank. How did you know Raven? You couldn’t remember and it made you mad.

“You're the reason I’m in here. the reason I took the chip. Because you let me get shot.”

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t help me and when I needed you most you disappeared.” you sneered at her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m sorry... I-”

Clarke’s hand was on her shoulder, leading her out of the room before you could get another jab in, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“I HATE YOU RAVEN. I HATE YOU.”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

You watched as Sinclaire put together a type of bracelet device.

“Their design is good, I won’t be able to get here before they disconnect you.”

You felt your heart rate spike knowing what was to come and that you had no way of stopping it. You struggled to try to pull your hands free before they could latch the device on. Your attempts were pathetic.

“You know too much. I can’t let them have you.”

The red dress disappeared and your head felt like it was on fire.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

You had to get rid of the burning, it engulfed your head, shooting from the base of your neck, its flame growing stronger every second. You slammed your head against the headboard. Once. Twice. Every time you did the burning seemed to stop for a second, so you speed up. Screaming as your brain felt like it was being incinerated. You didn’t even notice when the bracelet was strapped on. Your eyes moved to Raven's tear-stained face and her mouth open in an apparent scream.

You almost stopped. A second of hesitation before the banging resumed.

You didn’t notice when blood started to run down your neck or when Octavia grabbed your head in an attempt to hold it still. You tried to scream at them to stop, that they needed to let you stop the burning but you couldn’t seem to form words.

You screamed as tears ran down your eyes.

“Please please please Raven. I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let them kill me!” You hiccuped. Your neck continued to jolt as you tried to smash it against the headboard. She looked heartbroken as her hands fell to your cheeks. You closed your eyes as sobs racked your body. The faint feeling of her lips against your forehead felt like a drop of water in the desert.

“I’m sorry love” You felt all the blood in your body vibrate as the current soared through you.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When you woke up everything hurt. The pain shocked you at first. You’d grow accustomed to its absence. You went to move your hands to your head, the sticky blood coated your fingers as they rested upon a thin cut at the base of your neck.

“Ow.”

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief. Her familiar hands were on the sides of your head, pulling your face into her chest. You allowed her scent and the smooth folds of her shit to engulf your senses as you tried to ignore the bustling headache that was sneaking up on you.

As if suddenly remembering you grasped her forearms pulling them away from your head, You stared at the deep, red indentations on her wrists.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft gasp.

You had done that to her.

She sensed your emotions, she always did. And she always knew exactly what to do about it. Her hands moved back to your hair, stroking it gently while avoiding the cuts and bruises you’d received.

You stared up at her for a while until the pain grew too much and you closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back forward against her stomach.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”