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lnlightning81 · 18 hours

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Knees

Summary : Walking the dog ends up with an injury, and Liam is a supporting boyfriend throughout it all.

Pairing: Liam Lawson x Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

A/N : Based on my week this week. I can definitely say it hurts. I don't recommend it.

Masterlist

Liam Lawson Masterlist

Having Liam as a boyfriend was like having another dog running about the house as if your current dog wasn’t bad enough. Liam always had so much energy that he basically just bounced about the house and against the walls, but you love him for it.

It was your last day in England before flying out to Australia for the Australian GP, and you had left Liam in the house to finish packing, deciding to take your dog out for a walk. Scrolling on your phone as you walk along the pavement.

Except your dog had spotted her rival. Why do they hate each other? No idea but they started barking at each other. Typically, a nice stroll turned into a barking match. Before you knew it, there was a sharp pain shooting through your knee as you put your foot down on the ground.

Your dog, now far too interested in the world around allowed you to stand on the one leg and quickly pull your phone out, calling Liam. It felt like hours before he finally answered the phone, still singing as he answered

“Baby. I need you to come” you cried, not being able to hold back the tears from the sharp pain

“What happened?” He asked as there was shuffling on the other end

“I don’t know. It’s my knee though” you replied, wiping your tears away

“Where are you? I’m getting in the car now” He asked, and you sniffled

“I just got to the end of the road” you whispered, seeing his car quickly moving out the driveway and down the street. Pulling up in front of you, you were able to get your dog into the back of the car before taking the one hop into the front seat.

The tears fell down your face as you saw Liam’s sympathetic look pulling you straight into his arms

“It’s okay, baby. Let’s get you back to the house” Liam drove back to the house as you looked out the window, now really upset with yourself. Liam's hand rested on your leg as he parked the car in the driveway.

“I’m gonna take the dog into the house then come back for you, okay baby?” You nodded, taking your seatbelt off as Liam walked into the house with your baby. Pulling yourself out of the car was the worst decision you probably could have made as the sharp pain shot through your knee again.

“I told you I was gonna come back” Liam shook his head before sweeping you off your feet and carrying you inside the house

“I could have got in the house myself” you muttered, and he shook his head

“I’m gonna phone my trainer and get him to look at your knee” He placed you down on the couch, pulling your trouser leg up to look at your knee, carefully touching it

“Your hands are cold love” Liam chuckled, kissing your head as he wrapped you in a hug phoning his trainer. His trainer informed him that it was probably best to go get it x-rayed, especially if you are planning on leaving the country tomorrow morning.

That’s where you ended up that night. After spending the rest of the evening on the phone to the health board and having a video call, they sent you to the minor injuries unit at the closest hospital.

Now getting your knee touched and prodded by a random woman who was lovely you had to make your way from minor injuries to accident and emergency for an x-ray because apparently the x-ray department right next to minor injuries couldn’t be used. So limping your way across the hospital with pain shooting up your knee with every step you took.

Having the x-ray done was the least painful bit. Just laying there as the big white machine flashed and the woman placed your leg back down onto the table saying you were free to leave. Liam was waiting outside the x-ray room, wrapping his arms around you as soon as you stepped out of the room.

“I’m so sorry baby” you whispered, and he shook his head

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s just one of those things that happens” He rubbed your back

“Yeah but there’s this whole thing with your seat, and if we’re here waiting, then you might miss your flight” Liam shook his head, helping you back to minor injuries

“You come well before that seat. Red Bull have other drivers that can take my seat if needed but I promise that even if I’m put into that car then you’ll always come first” He kissed you as you stepped back into the examination room.

“So radiography says that there’s nothing there, so I’m just coming to take a look to make sure” She smiled as Liam gently rubbed your hand. You were sure this hurt more than all the bones you had previously broken throughout your life

“I can’t see anything on the x-ray. It’s just a pretty bad sprain. My advice would be to keep your hips, knees, and toes aligned, and I’ll give you some exercises to do” You nodded, looking up at Liam, who was standing next to you.

“I swear this hurts more than breaking a bone” you muttered, and he laughed, pressing a kiss to your lips. The doctor came back with the exercises, and Liam drove you both back home for a couple of hours before the flight tomorrow.

Arriving at the paddock with all those cameras flashing was not a thing that you wanted to be doing while limping. Liam had his arm around your waist as you struggled to walk from the pain in your knee, still annoyed that they basically just told you to walk it off even though you physically couldn’t.

“What have you done?” Max asked as he caught up with you both

“Twisted my knee before flying out” you huffed, and he chuckled

“It hurts more than all my broken bones put together at the one time. I can’t walk up or downstairs. Liam’s got to walk like a fucking snail and we all know he’d rather be running ahead” You sighed as Liam walked over to sign a few things for fans leaving you stood on one leg

“How do you even twist your knee?” He asked, confused

“Stopping a barking match. I couldn’t even take a step, and the doctor basically said to just walk it off. I can’t walk” Max laughed, shaking his head

“I’ll see you soon then. I need to get to this interview” He smiled

“Yeah bye Max” You nodded with a sigh, taking Liam’s water bottle from him so he could sign things easier

“What have you done, Y/N?” A fan asked as you held onto the railing for support

“I twisted my knee while walking the dog. Thankfully I’m not working this week, and I’m in this lovely country. Imagine doing six hour shifts on one leg” You shook your head

“I hope you feel better soon” She smiled

“Thank you. Hope you enjoy the race” You smiled, watching Liam as Fred signs his shirt. Liam goes after him to sign Fred’s shirt.

“Let’s get you to the garage to sit down then baby” He smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist and helping you to the VCARB garage. It was crazy how Liam’s touch and smile could distract you from the pain and bring you back into the world where you were truly loved and maybe some of the news you had for Liam wouldn’t be so bad to tell him.

Tag List

@bearryyy

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@f1kenzzz

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #liam lawson x y/n #liam lawson x you #liam lawson #liam lawson x reader #ll30 x you #ll30 x y/n #ll30 #ll30 x reader

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honeyedmiller · 17 hours

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Anniversary | Frankie Morales

frankie morales x f!reader

synopsis: frankie takes you out to a nice restaurant on your first wedding anniversary, but with a little twist.

rating: explicit – 18+, minors dni.

warnings: established relationship, canon divergent tf one shot, smut (f & m oral receiving, fingering, unintentional edging, teasing, unprotected piv), small endearments of spanish are sprinkled throughout, frankie is a simp for you in this (as he should be), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: happy frankie friday y’all

“You almost ready, amor?”

You were putting your favorite earrings in before giving yourself one last look-over in the mirror. Once you felt satisfied with your appearance, you turned to walk back into the master bedroom to see your husband buttoning up a crisp white long sleeve tucked into some black slacks.

Frankie whistles when he sees you in your floor-length red dress with a high slit on the side. “Goddamn querida, you’re giving me a run for my money tonight. Gonna have to fend off all the fuckers that are gonna check you out.” He laughs, holding his hand out to twirl you once to get a 360 degree view of you before pulling your body into his.

You can’t help but laugh at his words, knowing damn well you’ll only be focused on the man in front of you.

“Too bad for them,” You offer him a smirk, holding up your left hand toward him, wiggling your fingers. Your wedding ring glinted in the soft bedroom light—a reminder that you’re his and he’s yours forever. “I’m already taken.”

“And I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive.” Frankie says, grabbing your hand before laying a gentle kiss onto your ring.

“That you are, Mr. Morales.” You shoot him a wink before giving his cheek a kiss. You separate from him to retrieve your black heels from the walk-in closet, sitting down on the bed to put them on.

Frankie knelt in front of you with a soft smile settled onto his lips, the crinkle lines around his eyes deepening.

“May I?” His voice is soft, lulling you into a brief blissful state. You hand him your heels, playfully nudging his chest back with your foot, pushing him back on his haunches. He takes your leg in one of his hands, tracing a featherlight finger up your calf and to your thigh. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you watch him carefully. He slips the heel onto your foot, kissing the inside of your knee before giving the same attention to your other foot. His lips meet the inside of your other thigh, but instead of pulling away, he starts to trail his lips up toward the apex of your thigh.

A ghost of a moan slips past your lips before you thread your fingers through his curls, giving them a soft tug as your head lolls back. Your husband continued nipping, licking and kissing his way up your thigh until he reached the lace of your panties.

His face was buried underneath your dress at this point, teasingly poking his tongue out to run over the lace.

Your moan was louder this time and you could practically feel Frankie’s shit-eating grin.

“I think you should wear different panties tonight.” He starts, and he pulls his face back from underneath the chiffon fabric.

“I thought you liked these ones?” Your lips form into a slight pout that drives him absolutely crazy. It takes all of his willpower to not say fuck it and skip your dinner reservations just to keep you in bed and eat you out all night long.

“I do, bebita, but I have other ones for you to wear,” His infamous sly smirk appears, and you furrow your brows in confusion. He stands up to full height, trudging over to the dresser before pulling out some white panties. He hands them to you and you look down at them in confusion, wondering why there was a bit of added weight pressing between your palms. “They go with this.” He says, pulling out a small remote.

Your jaw drops in shock, looking up at your husband in disbelief.

“Frankie—”

“Let’s try something new, hm?” His words were tender with plea, but his eyes pooled dark with desire.

“Okay.” You agree, slipping off your panties you had on before slipping on the white ones. You knew he was going to have fun with this one, and truth be told, you couldn’t ignore the thrill that settled in your bones at the thought of Frankie using vibrating panties on you in public—let alone the fancy restaurant he was taking you to for your one year wedding anniversary.

You knew you were completely fucked tonight.

You were admiring the general romantic atmosphere of the restaurant as you and Frankie stood behind a couple that was checking in with the host. The soft orange glow the lights emitted left a romantic feeling lingering in the air.

Your hand was wrapped around Frankie’s bicep, too distracted to even see him dig into the pocket of his slacks. You felt a low vibration against your clit, and you quietly gasped as you gripped onto his arm a little tighter. You already had an agonizingly dull ache heavy in your core before you left your house due to his incessant teasing, and this was only making matters much worse.

The hostess returned to the stand with a smile on her face, coaxing you and Frankie to walk forward. Frankie upped the vibration with one click and you had to bite down on your lip from moaning, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi, how can I help you folks?” The hostess asked, and Frankie gave her a polite smile before telling her the last name under the reservation.

“I have reservations for Morales, party for two at six.”

“Ah yes, I have you right here. Go ahead and follow me this way.” She leads you two through the restaurant, Frankie’s broad palm splayed over your lower back as he guides you in front of him.

She sets the menus down on a booth tucked in the corner, practically away from prying eyes. You quietly thank her as you scoot in, Frankie sliding in right next to you.

“Your server will be with you shortly.” She turns away and you’re left sitting next to Frankie in agony.

“Baby, please.” You beg, shutting your eyes as you practically force yourself not to rut your hips into the vibrations.

“Oh,” Frankie coos, “Does my poor wife need me to stop?” He teases, nosing at the shell of your ear.

“No, Francisco, I need you to fucking touch me.”

He pulls back from your ear, a lust-filled gaze searching your own. “Yeah?” He quirks a brow, checking over his shoulder. The server walks up a few moments later and greets you both with a bottle of wine, pouring you both a glass.

You could barely even think straight when the server asked what you guys wanted to eat, and you gripped the leather of the booth as you forced a smile and told them what you wanted. As soon as the server walked away, Frankie took a casual sip of his wine before leaning into you again.

“Bet she’s so fucking wet for me, hm querida?”

“You know—” Your breath hitched in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you swallowed harshly. “—Damn well, Frankie.”

“Bet she’s gonna taste so fuckin’ good when I get my mouth on her, hm?”

“You’re not playing fair, Francisco.”

“And how should I be playing, baby?” He coos, kissing your cheek. The unfathomable ache that was once a low flame in your core has now been ramped up to a point of desperation, release impending very soon.

You grip onto his thigh and squeeze your eyes shut, concentrating on staying quiet. You both know if you were at home right now, you’d be anything but.

The server comes back with both of your plates, unsuspecting of your little escapades with your husband. You thank the server as graciously as you possibly can before they disappear again.

“Frankie, baby please. I’m gonna come.” Your whisper is strained, nails digging into the meat of his thigh.

“Make a mess for me. Can’t wait to clean it up after dinner.”

“Baby please, I—” And right when the coil was about to snap, the vibrations stopped completely. Tears pooled in your eyes as you sat completely still, not expecting to be edged like that.

“Did you turn it off?” You whisper, hands starting to shake. You took your hand off of Frankie’s thigh and clasped both of them together, looking at him with a desperate stare.

“No baby, I swear I didn’t. I think the battery might’ve died.”

Of course it did.

You nod and swallow hard, trying to focus on the meal before you. It was hard to have an actual appetite when all you really wanted was your husband.

Frankie felt bad, and he really wasn’t one to deny you of your needs. He got the server’s attention and asked for to-go boxes and the check, and within the next few minutes, you were both leaving.

“We didn’t need to leave, Frankie. This was such a nice place and I didn’t mean—”

“Uh uh. I’d rather be at home where it’s just us. Somewhere I can take care of you properly and not get arrested for public indecency.”

You laugh at his words as he opens the truck door for you, kissing your temple as he offers you his hand to hoist yourself up into the cab. Once he settles into his seat, the truck roars to life and you’re on your way home.

The throb in your core was so unbearable that you were gripping onto the handle of the door, steadying your breathing. Your eyes snapped up to the road and noticed an abandoned dirt road that no one ever went down coming up.

You glance at Frankie and contemplate for two microseconds before your hand lands on his thigh. Fuck it.

“Pull over,” You say, nodding your head to the dirt road. Frankie looks at you in confusion, but it suddenly clicks when he sees the pure desperation in your eyes. “Please.” You whisper.

He pulls over onto the side of the road, turning off the headlights and the truck. You were both surrounded by the darkness of the night, with only a sliver of moonlight peaking through.

“Cariño—”

“I can’t wait anymore, Frankie. I fucking need you.” You cry, pawing at the buttons of his shirt. Frankie jerks his head to the back.

“C’mon princesa, more room back there.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You clamber into the backseat first, thankful that it was roomy back here, leaving little to no room to be cramped. Frankie sits on his haunches as he stares up at you, licking his lips.

He doesn’t waste any time. He pushes your dress up and hooks his fingers into both sides, pulling the skimpy white material down your legs. He’s amazed at the string of arousal that was attached to the panties, eyes flicking to your core.

You were absolutely soaked.

Frankie smacks his tongue against his teeth, “Pobrecita. You’re really soaked, honey.”

Frankie doesn’t say another word as he tosses your legs over his shoulders, kissing and nipping his way up your thighs. He starts to lick up your arousal at the apex of your thighs, hot tongue making you gush even more.

You whine in desperation, a string of pleasepleaseplease evading your lips.

“Love it when you’re so needy for me, baby. You and this pretty little pussy of yours.” He says, and finally, he licks a long stripe up through your folds and to your clit.

You inhale sharply, threading your fingers through his thick brown locks before shoving his face closer to your cunt. He groans, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your husband’s skillful tongue laps up every last drop of your arousal.

Frankie plunges his tongue into you unexpectedly and fucks you with the muscle, nose bumping your clit with every thrust.

“Frankie, fuck, please—” You pant, and he removes his mouth from you for a second to look up at you and smirk. The whole bottom half of his face was coated in your slick.

Staring back at you was a man who loves to eat his wife’s pussy like it was the last meal he’d ever have, and fuck was he always starving.

“You need my fingers too, baby?” He asks, moving to suck on your clit. A loud moan escapes you, and you grip onto the back door handle for dear life.

“P-Please.” Your voice is a desperate cry, the coil building up so quickly it nearly gave you whiplash.

He eases two fingers into your sopping heat, the warmth of you contracting around his fingers. He moans at the feeling of you, the sensation going straight to his already impossibly hard cock.

He needs you to come first. That’s his rule.

“She’s so needy for me, hm?” Frankie asks, and you can’t even begin to form a coherent thought as he scissors his thick fingers in and out of you. He picks up his pace and curls them, the squelching sound obscene as it reverberates through the cab of the truck.

“Don’t stop Frankie, please,” You beg, the coil about the snap. He brings his mouth down onto you once more, licking through your folds, flicking his tongue once he gets to your clit.

Your whole body stills as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, orgasm washing over your body like a wave crashing down onto shore.

“There you go baby, that’s it. That’s it.” Frankie’s voice is smooth; calming. It’s almost dream-like with the way he sounds and the euphoric bliss that pumps through your veins.

Your body slumps against the seat as you try to catch your breath. Frankie takes a seat next to you on the bench and pulls you into him, tipping your jaw up so your lips meet his. Your tangy-sweet taste dances on your tongue as he slips his into your mouth, groping at your body desperately.

Your hands make their way down to the bulge in his slacks and you rub your hand over him. A groan rumbles from deep within his sturdy chest, and that’s when you’re quick to get to work. You fumble with his belt buckle but eventually get it undone, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks.

You tap his hips and he raises them so you can take off his slacks and boxers simultaneously. His hard cock springs free, and Frankie’s shoulders slump at the slight relief from restraint.

You maneuver yourself onto your knees in front of him, placing both of your hands on his thick thighs before rubbing your hands up and down. You move a hand to gently grasp his cock, thumbing the pre-come off and popping your thumb into your mouth. You moan at the taste, moving your head down to lick a long stripe up the underside of his cock.

Frankie’s hand cradles the back of your head as he closes his eyes in pure bliss. You love seeing him like this, falling apart under your touch—or rather, your mouth.

You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around him before taking him as far down as you can go. You swallow around him when you feel the urge to gag, easing yourself all the way down until your nose meets the wiry hairs at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, honey, your mouth feels so fucking good.” Frankie praises, peeling his eyes open to see you taking him so well. Your gaze locks on his and he inhales sharply, the sultry look in your eyes nearly sending him over the edge. You move your head up to feel and taste his silky flesh onto your tongue as it glides upward.

You keep a consistent pace, moaning around him as he pants and grunts above you. Pleasing him like this only added to your arousal further, a deep need lighting aflame in your core once again.

Frankie’s panting was getting louder, and he had to abruptly yank you off of him.

“I don’t wanna come yet,” He pants, “I wanna be buried in you.”

You whine softly at his words as he pulls you up to straddle his lap, teasing the head of his cock through your slick folds. You gasp when it catches your clit, slumping forward onto him.

“Look at me, querida.” He instructs softly, and you move your head back so your gaze meets his. His eyes are full of carnal desire for you, muscle in his jaw ticking furiously as he concentrates on your gaze.

He notches his tip at your entrance, and your eyes briefly shut before opening once more as you sink down onto him. Your jaw hangs open and your brows furrow, Frankie’s expression mirroring yours.

You buck your hips forward, loving the feeling of his cock buried in you as he stretches you so deliciously. You thread your fingers through his locks once more, grinding your hips down onto him. His hands bring themselves to your hips, keeping your pace steady as you rock yourself against him.

Your lips meet his once more, the kiss so passionate and hungry and full of a primal need that you can never seem to satiate.

“So fucking lucky you’re my wife. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too, Francisco. I always will.” You pant against his lips, enveloping his in yours once more. He stills your hips and fucks up into you as you trail your kisses down his throat and suck on his pulse point.

Frankie slots a hand between you both and finds your clit, rubbing furiously at it as you both brace yourselves for impending release.

Before you can even clock it, your cunt convulses around Frankie’s cock as you gush around him, head thrown back between your shoulders as you hold onto him. He leans forward and noses at your neck, kissing and nibbling the spots he knows drive you wild before his own hips still and he comes undone, spilling everything he has into your warmth.

He groans repeatedly into your neck, both of you panting furiously as you try to catch your breaths.

You huff a laugh and slump into his body, enjoying the post-coital bliss as you inhale the earthy musk and salt your husband smells of.��

“Did I take care of you well enough, bebita?” He asks breathlessly with a smug grin plastered against his lips, not-charged-enough-vibrating-panties completely forgotten.

Your nails lightly scrape the exposed skin of his chest, and you’re so fucked out that you can only hum in approval.

He kisses your forehead and admires the glow you always have after you two have sex. It’s the little things like this that he truly never thought he’d have in life, and then you walked into it all those years ago and made him an honest, loving man—and he truly wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

tags: @endlessthxxghts @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @punkshort @party-hearses

divider by @saradika-graphics

#frankie morales smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales fluff #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales x f!reader

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fiber-optic-alligator · 3 days

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Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Two months later…

You dream of Earth tonight.

There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

“Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

You are not domesticated yet.

When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

“Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

“Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

“Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

He chirps again and nods.

You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

“My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

You need to get the hell off of this ship.

You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

“…Little one?”

Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat with a smile. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

“I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up fonce on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

Shit. He put a tracker in it.

You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

“I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

“Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

Oh my god.

All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

He learned to say it. For you.

Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

“Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

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graphicpepsi · 1 day

Text

secure (nsfw, mdni)

OR what happens when König is having a rough time at work & takes it out on you. starts a lil angsty

You could always tell when König was having a rough day.

When long talks turn into short, gruff responses; when soft, delicate hands on your body turn to rough, firm slaps- not that you minded, of course- you loved it when he got rough. For the past week he had fucked you to sleep every single night- pounding into you mercilessly- disregarding whenever you asked if he was alright with a wordless hand on your jaw, or a hard kiss to your lips that took every single thought in your head away.

But tonight was going to be different- you were determined. That's why when he came through the door at eleven pm, rushing to get his hands on your waist, you pushed him away hard enough he knew you wanted him to stop. He looks at you, face twisted into a confused expression.

"König, you need to talk to me." You say, crossing your arms and hoping he can't smell the arousal radiating off of you. You can't help it, he's just so big, towering over you like that-

"Later." He says shortly, moving to kiss you again. You step back.

"König, no, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, love, I just wanna-"

"Stop!" You exclaim, "Just stop! god, don't you want me for anything more than sex?"

You hadn't meant to say that because you knew it wasn't true. He looked alarmed.

"What? Of course I do, schatz, where is this coming from?"

"That's the longest sentence you've said to me all fucking week, König." You say, exhaustion evident in your voice.

You sigh, collect yourself and take his hands in yours.

"I'm not mad at you Köni, I just- I'm worried about you. And I'm tired of feeling like a sex doll."

"You're not a sex doll," He says plainly, "You know that."

"Then why're you treating me like one?"

"I thought you liked it when-"

"God, you're not getting it, König." You run a hand through your hair, leaving his hands to drop to his sides once again. He stands stiffly in the hallway.

It's silent between the two of you for a few minutes. He stares at you, while you stare at anything but him.

"You think I'm using you for sex." He finally says, breaking the silence. "Fuck."

"You're treating me like a one night stand, König, if you're bored of me just fucking say it." You spat, even though you prayed silently that wasn't the case.

Of course it wasn't.

He engulfs you in a hug so quickly and so tightly you think you might pass out. It's only when your hands fly up to rub his shuddering back that you realize he's crying.

"Oh, Kö, I'm sorry I don't mean that, I'm just upset."

He shakes into you, and you suddenly feel sick with guilt.

"I killed a teenage girl." He whispers, so quiet you hardly catch it. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love, I just- you're the only thing that distracts me."

The sudden confession caught you off guard. He had killed a young girl?

"What happened?" You ask, pulling partly away from him to study his teary eyes.

You both sink to your knees in the hallway, and somehow, even at this height he's still a foot or two taller than you.

"You know how they are in the republic, sending out innocent civilians in front of their soldiers, thinking no good man could shoot-" His words fall into sobs again, his shoulders heaving with every inhale. You've never seen him cry like this.

"Shh, it's okay," You say, because you're not sure what else you can say. It's not okay, and you both know that, but your delicate hand on his shoulder is enough for him to half believe you.

"I know you wouldn't do a thing like that meaningfully, Kö."

He nods, tears still steaming down his face. You wipe them away with your thumb, cradling his face in your hands. He shuts his eyes almost shamefully.

"I could never be bored of you, could never live without you," he says breathlessly, and you get the feeling he's hoping you can't hear him.

After a few seconds he's calmed down tremendously, enjoying the feeling of your hands on his face.

"This is what I missed." You say, "My boy."

He opens his lidded eyes to look at you.

"Thank you," He whispers with a sigh, and it's you that leans in to kiss him this time.

His lips are salty with tears, but you relish in the feeling of his mouth against yours in the soft, loving kind of way.

For the first time in over a week, it's you who deepens the kiss, and he gently guides you until you're sitting on his lap.

"Let me fuck you properly, schatz," He whispers into your neck, pressing soft kisses over the purple marks that litter your skin. His thick accent next to your ear makes your pussy pulse against his growing hard-on. You sigh, relaxing into him- something you haven't been able to do for too long.

He picks you up, mouth still on your neck, and carries you to your bed. He places you on it like you're made of glass. You take your shirt off and König's hands are almost instantly on your tits, squeezing them softly like they're the most delicate things he's ever held.

You take his hand from your chest and put his thumb in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you look up at him. Fuck, he thought you were pretty like this. Perfect tits on display, sucking on his thumb, pussy dragging back and forth on the bed for any kind of friction- and it was all for him. He loved doing this to you.

He loved fucking you just fine; pounding into you with a hand on your throat, slapping your ass and denying your orgasm- but god did he love it when you got so worked up like this, so worked up over nothing.

He peels his shirt off, throws it across the room. You could whine with how slowly he takes his belt off. You're completely exposed for him now- jeans forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor along with your shirt and underwear.

"Kö-"

"I'm coming, baby," He whispers, finally done undressing and climbing on top of you. You can almost hear his heart with how fast it's beating. God, you're wet for him.

He presses a light kiss to your lips before bracing himself with a hand on the bed frame- and god was that a sight to see- his muscular arm extended out above you with the other holding your jaw gently, trapping you intoxicatingly. You can see the way his hand flexes as he starts pushing into you, his veins growing bigger ever so slightly.

"König- yes, god, more-" You murmur, eyes threatening to screw shut at any moment.

"Fuck, love." He grunts into your ear, "Such a pretty little pussy."

He's fucking you now, thrusting into you harshly as he looks into your eyes, at your face.

You've missed this so much. Just him on you, fucking you proper, muttering sweet things into your ear with a voice threatening to break because of how good you feel around his dick.

You claw at his back because you know he loves it. Loves to wake up to see your hand prints and nail marks all over him.

"Kö, Köni I'm close, Köni-"

"Sh, being so good baby, good girl," He whispers, fucking into you hard and slow.

You practically cling to him as you let yourself go, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes with how fucking good it feels to come on his cock. So full, so good.

König pulls out and comes on you soon after, replacing his dick with his fingers inside of you to fuck you through your orgasm. His cum spills all over your tits, splattering a few droplets on your lips and jaw which you instinctively lick up.

Fuck he loves you when you look like this.

All fucked out, panting, lips parted and face flushed- he thinks he could look at you forever.

"I missed that, König." You say softly.

"Me too, love, I'm sorry." He kisses your cheek, "I love you so much."

You say nothing- just burying your face in the crook of his neck with a content sigh, inhaling the scent of sex and cologne that sticks to him.

A/N: hehehehe i love him. thanks for reading if u want me to write something specific lmk, otherwise i'll just write whatever my horny for cod men brain comes up with. Later y'all

#konig x reader #konig fanfiction #könig #konig smut #konig x y/n #konig x you #konig call of duty #cod smut #cod x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #cod konig #konig angst #könig angst #könig cod #könig fluff #soft sex

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meguwumibear · 1 day

Text

yakuza!shouto x reader writing warm up

you fucked up.

badly.

broke into the wrong place at the worst time.

in your defense, you've been casing the joint for hours. it was supposed to be empty. how the hell were you supposed to know it was anything but?

the scene before you is gruesome. the body on the floor still warm. and the killers? yeah, they're staring straight at your dumb fucking ass.

you just had to choose this fucking house to break into. didn't you? what shitty fucking luck—not that you've ever been on particularly good terms with the lady. besides, you're really a horrible thief. too loud. too clumsy. probably should've gone into construction instead.

you're fast at least. from all these years of running. you're good at creating space, at keeping a distance between yourself and others. thank fuck for that because if your speed fails you now you are most certainly going to eat a bullet for dinner.

maybe a bullet wouldn't be so bad actually. you've had worse things to eat. what kind of metals are in bullets anyway? your anemic ass could certainly use some iron.

focus.

there's a car running in the driveway. likely an escape vehicle which means it would be an absolutely stupid thing to steal. the assholes are probably tracking it somehow. hitmen do shit like that, right? they keep close watch on their property?

the footsteps behind you are close. way too close for comfort.

fuck it. whatever. gambling's never been your vice, but it's probably worth the risk. you'll just hightail it out of here and ditch the car the moment you get the chance.

the driver's side door swings open when you pull at the handle.

idiots. who forgets to lock their fucking getaway car?

no matter. you're not one to look gift stupidity in the mouth. those morons can eat your fucking dust.

you throw the car in reverse and slam your foot on the pedal just as two hulking forms come into view. they have their weapons raised, poised to shoot.

tires screech on gravel as you tear down the driveway. you keep your head low in case your pursuers decide to empty their entire magazine into the back seat in a last ditch effort to kill you.

the rain of bullets never comes.

odd.

they probably could've hit you. is the car you're in worth so much they wouldn't risk dinging it?

the moment you hit the city you pull the car into a narrow alleyway and shift gears into park.

the night is too quiet and still. it does nothing to keep your mind off of your rabbiting heart. the stupid fucking thing is beating so fast you're certain you're setting some sort of world record.

you take a long deep breath in to steady yourself, relaxing your grip on the wheel.

"i'd torch the thing if i were you," comes a voice from the backseat. "you're dead if they find even a trace of something that could lead them to you."

that rabbiting heart of yours? yeah, it near about stops. you can barely find the courage to turn to meet the eyes of whoever the fuck you just took for a joyride.

the man is beautiful in a way that cuts like a knife. lean build. smooth skin...well mostly smooth anyway. there's what looks like a long since healed burn around his left eye.

the man also has a gun in his hand. he's not pointing it at you. he's not even fucking looking at you. he has his elbow propped on the window and his head resting in his hand.

yeah, you are so totally screwed.

"arson's not really my thing, but thanks for the tip," you reply, throwing open the door. it hits the brick wall of the alley with a dull thud.

you wince at the impact, wondering how much it costs to buff that kind of dent out of a car like this.

you chance a glance behind you, and the man is looking at you now, red eyebrows raised in amusement.

fuck.

motherfucker's toying with you.

there isn't a large enough gap for you to wriggle out of the car, and you don't have the strength to yank the door closed again now that you've so dimwittedly sandwiched it into the wall.

the asshole in the back's just watching you. he seems curious what you'll do next.

psh, as if the solution isn't obvious.

you start the car, moving the gear stick into drive, and slowly scrape your way down the alleyway, aiming for the entrance.

"bit conspicuous, don't you think?"

"shut up," you spit, stopping the car nonetheless. "like you could come up with anything better."

a lazy smile touches the corner of his lips.

"i'd never get myself into such a predicament. i would have-" the man is cut off by a buzzing in his pocket.

holy shit he has a phone on him?!

"do you mind?" he asks, answering the call anyway. "i kind of need to take this."

#shouto x reader #shouto x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x you #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x you #mha x reader #mha x you

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pestilentbrood · 5 months

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VERY long Ramble incoming

honestly now that I'm looking at the auraboa lore situation, I'm just disappointed. There was such POTENTIAL in the idea of the Loop and the horror of a new generation inexplicably being disconnected from it, forcing the newly hatched children into a world totally separate from that perceived by their parents (I mean, hell, they perceive TIME differently!).... but then the writer(s?) just fell ass backwards into Icky Tropes.

I feel like I can see what the idea was, especially with the recent alterations to the Encyclopedia entry... It seems like staff fundamentally understands the true Horror potential here, but... Instead, through the short story, they proposed it through the lens of a condescending outsider character, turning the fears of the older generation into something trivial. And also weirdly demeaning the Auroboa's situation by portraying them as overreacting.

Why... why would you do that? Like, from a storytelling perspective? What's gained from that? Why not embrace the true horror and even Emotional significance of that disruption? Why instead go for "ohh we NEED outsider help we NEED to be saved because we are so helpless and it is so Silly that we, creatures who have never experienced such things, do not know what sleep is"????

And if they WANTED to have a condescending outsider, I feel like they COULD have done that, but it would have to have that character realize the horror at some point. And make it obvious that their attitude towards distressed parents and children facing Eldritch Shit and the Sudden Deconstruction of it was not cool!

(or at the very least be a bit more...idk. Consistent with said outsider character? Juniper just goes from "omg I am so honored that the fascinating creatures of the behemoth have chosen me to speak to" to "oh their wasting my time because they don't know what sleep is. I'd rather be sleeping!! 🙄" like girl... c'mon now. Why are we trivializing it like this. Do you want me as the reader to be invested in their plight or not.)

I mean come on. They're beings connected through one networked hivemind-like system, yet each still maintains a silver of individuality that allows them to move freely throughout the Behemoth that they care for. And they've got an eldritch understanding of time that no other dragon could understand. They're seeing the future, past, and present unfold simultaneously. They're witnessing the birth and death of the world at the same time, and have no way to communicate it to other dragons. The best they can do is maintain their home, and even then, they see its roots spread and decay all at once.

And then the newest generation is suddenly disconnected. An inherent link between parent and child and all dragons in-between, that has existed since the creation of their species, is just suddenly GONE for the newest births. With NO explanation for it. The children have no easy way of communicating with their parents. The children are experiencing time in a way that was not meant for their species. They've forcefully been shoved into a circadian rhythm that they are Not! Built for!

The only way a parent could communicate properly with their child would be when the latter is sleeping, something that is also completely foreign to this species. It would be terrifying for all involved!!!

They are literally experiencing eldritch horror from the perspective of the eldritch being forced into the mortal.

Like why WOULDN'T there be panic!!! And why would that panic be trivialized! Why are we only shown the perspective of an outsider who looks at this situation and goes "Oh the silly tree beasts are being so silly over nothing, it's no big deal!"

That and the way the auraboas talk to outsiders. Like. There was such potential there. Real opportunity to explore how ancient, time-bending beings would communicate to someone who couldn't even BEGIN to understand the intricacies of it.

Instead we got what feels more like baby talk (even described as though they were hatchlings enunciating their first words, which... I dunno man, maybe we don't want to compare them to children like That) and less like... Beings that experience all of time at once. I mean, the hatchlings and the adults speak the exact same way, and that doesn't make any sense given the literal time barrier going on.

I totally get why people thought there was just a language barrier and that auraboas had their own language, thus causing the disjointed speak, and not that it was because They Do Not Experience Time Like We Do. And I feel it would've been far easier to get it across by just... I dunno. Do anything else?? I saw someone on here suggest they speak in the "wrong" tenses, or using multiple tenses in the same sentence, which I think would've been far more clear.

Like, as opposed to "saplings wilt! saplings silent!" just "the saplings will wilt in silence, they've wilted in silence, they are wilting silently." Said all at once like all things are true simultaneously. And if we're going for hivemind, have each auraboa speak in a different tense, all at the same time, and have them switch it up every time. Have our outsider get confused and be like "which is it? are they wilting now, or have they already wilted?" and the cluster of auraboas respond in a cacophony of yes's, no's, and maybe's all at once.

Would've probably gotten across the "alien" vibe they were supposedly going for far better than wide-eyed desperation for an outsider's guidance conveyed through disjointed, in-world described as baby speech.

And also maybe would've had less accidental connotations. Because as it stands, I completely see why people have made the connections to the real world where they have. This doesn't read like eldritch timey-wimey intrigue, or even a respectful look at how younger generations can become detached from their families' cultures over time and the struggles that come with it. It reads like a culture being perceived by an ignorant outsider who (despite supposedly respecting these dragons) scoffs and rolls their eyes because the tree beasts with their funny words are being silly again, and that Hey, isn't it actually a great thing that the children are fundamentally different in all manners now? Because now they can join the rest of us in the "real world."

Yknow. Ick.

(I Personally think it would've been better to have the perspective be one of the Auraboas themselves, especially one of the children, to really understand what was going on here. Give us the full brunt of the mind of a creature experiencing all of time interwoven as one shape. The waters fall and the oceans crash with waves. They've now fallen to drought. The ocean has yet to be born. Caves have been carved out through the waters' currents. And when I break from this timeline, I open my eyes to see a child, the child not yet born, the child born now, the child born yesterday. Why can't I hear it? Why couldn't I hear it? Why won't I ever hear it?)

I dunno. People more qualified than me to speak on this matter have already torn the lore apart, I'm just... dropping my own two cents. Potential got weirdly squandered and we ended up instead with unfortunate implications and tropes that could be connected a liiiittle too awkwardly to irl situations.

*Also, before anyone points out: Yes, I know the hatchlings aren't COMPLETELY detached from the Loop and can join it when they sleep. But the fact is, these thangs never had to sleep before. That wasn't in their species' nature. So that's still weird and foreign for them on both sides. And since the hatchlings now have a circadian rhythm, they can't stay connected to the loop permanently. And also Also, seeing as the previous generations aren't experiencing time linearly, who's to say they even recognize when their child joins the loop? They'll speak with an echo of their child when that child was last asleep ages ago, not knowing that it's not them presently, because there is no 'present' for the older generations.

#i also really really do not understand the ''word count'' explanation given by staff.#I'm honestly rather lenient with ignorance happenings like this so long as they're remedied but.#cutting out important details of lore Fundamental to the understanding of it? For? ''Word count''?#Like firstly. Surely someone on the team is skilled enough to pull that off right? To get all that needs to be said in a short story?#but secondly. w. why is there a word count limit to begin with. This is Your House. Why are you limiting yourself unless this is like #a paid-by-word situation and they don't have the money to afford something longer #but like it feels like shooting yourself in the foot if you're going to write something that leaves a ton of information vague instead of #properly explaining your lore so there's no unfortunate misunderstandings. But I dunno. I'm just rambling #flight rising #fr auraboa #I'll probably be incorporating my Own version of the lore regardless of what the staff decides to do with this presentation of it #or just ignoring it outright hskdgjhskjh we shall See #Also if anything I've said here is Wrong in some way or comes across ignorant in and of itself. Let me know

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