#red sheet sinclair

[homiu-l]

post here so I have excuse to announce yet another twitter side account (Limbus fanart focused)

❌ 타커뮤니티로의 허락없는 재업로드를 금지합니다 DO NOT repost or use my art without permission ❌ DC에 재업로드하는 것을 금지합니다 DO NOT repost or use my art to DCinside

[thefaustandthefurious]

RED SHEET SINCLAIR IS DEAD! RUPTURE IS SAVEDDDD

[peeplet]

yeah…

[cheezyharu]

FINALLY DONE WITH THIS CHICKEN ASS MF

[gossamerandshadow]

Ruby Grace Sinclair, aka Red Iris

Summary

Granted precognitive abilities as an involuntary subject of medical experimentation, Grace escaped her captors and fought back against the powers of her home world. In time, she will learn that her abilities are far greater than she yet knows.

Attributes - 40 Points

Psyche: 30 Strength: Superior (+10) Endurance: Superior (+10) Finesse: 15 Presence: 15

Powers - 54 Points

Warden of the Grand Stair - 0 points

Unfolding the Infinite Paths - 24 points

Danger Sense - 5 points

Prescience - 5 points

Perceive the Eidolon - 5 points

Mind Reading and Mind Probe - 5 points

Major Unconventional Ability - Precognition - 4 points

Traversing the Infinite Paths - 30 points

Enhanced Fortification - 10 points

Sanctification of the Eidolon - 5 points

Guiding and Editing Reality - 10 points

Forcing Conformity - 5 points

Grace can see the future. She can sense danger before it strikes, she can learn what might happen before it occurs, she can learn what people might say to her in any possible future, and how she might convince them to say it.

What's more, and what she is only just learning, it that she can also decide what path has already been taken. If she wishes that an object be whole, then it has always been so. It wouldn't make sense to ask if she can fix it, because it was never broken to begin with. She can choose that path through time, traversing alternate possibilities until she finds the one that suits. But what she wants is not an alternate possibility; it's what truly happened and it always has been.

Extras - 6 Points

Domain - Ichoris Nightclub (3 points)

Personal Domain (1 point)

Restricted Access (2 points)

Partisan Support - Red Iris (3 points)

Ichoris is the nightclub on the first floor of an old hotel on a small, densely populated tropical island called Sunyi, on Grace's homeworld. The world has about a modern level of technology.

Grace is the leader of a technically-criminal organization known as Red Iris which serves as the de facto government of Sunyi, operating out of the upper floors of the old hotel above Ichoris. She and her people have effectively absolute power across the island. While it is technically not great that Sunyi is so completely controlled by basically a gang, the island's actual government was so corrupt and the previous gang wars over territory so bloody that Red Iris' control has improved life across Sunyi dramatically.

Backstory

Grace doesn't remember much about her life before the lab. Her first memories are of pain and illness while she was used as a subject for various inhumane experiments. She also suffered a lot of pain and physical weakness even when she wasn't being subjected to experimentation. She doesn't know if that's why she was selected for the experiments, or if her physical maladies were a permanent effect of the experimentation she endured.

From what she has been able to learn since then, Grace believes that her captors were trying to turn her into something like a living computer. They intended to improve certain aspects of her neurological functioning and then use her brain in combination with more traditional electronics to create a more powerful and adaptable computer than anything that could have been created with just electronics alone.

To that end, they experimented on her with a series of drugs intended to dramatically increase neuron density and neuroplasticity. For the most part, all they actually managed to do was induce a whole bunch of seizures that nearly killed her.

At some point, her captors somehow managed to get their hands on a pair of substances, one infused with the power of Eidolon and the other with the power of Umbra. Grace knows for a fact that her captors had no idea what they were or how to use them. She knows this because they injected her with both at the same time and clearly didn't know why that was a bad idea.

Through luck or fate or possibly some latent talent with Eidolon, Grace somehow survived this. The clash between the two primal powers in her body ended with only Eidolon remaining, along with a great deal of internal bleeding. Once she recovered physically, her captors believed that they had caused catastrophic brain damage, as Grace was unable to speak and seemed largely unaware of her surroundings.

The primal substances had been injected into Grace's body along with the more expected cocktail of drugs, intended to improve neural density. The presence of Eidolon simply perfected the substances, making them actually function as intended. The resulting neurogenesis was rapid and entirely uncontrolled, causing the new neurons to have almost like a tumor. She nearly died before the Eidolon started perfecting her rather than just the drugs acting upon her, and saved her life.

Grace seemed like she was unaware of her surroundings because she couldn't tell which of her perceptions were of the current moment and which ones hadn't yet happened. It took her a long time to learn how to parse the sudden new ability to perceive things that hadn't happened yet. Once she did, and once her captors were able to understand exactly what had happened, they removed her from the lab entirely and began to investigate how to make use of her new abilities.

The organization keeping her captive had long mastered the art of brainwashing and put Grace through their standard process of psychological programming and direct neurological manipulation. They were unaware that all changes were quickly and neatly reversed by the presence of the Eidolon power. Grace took advantage of this and pretended that the brainwashing process had been a perfect success. As far as any of her captors were aware, she was by far the most stable and obedient example of brainwashing they had yet produced.

Initially, her abilities and skills weren't sufficient to allow her to escape, even with her precognition. It was too limited and she had too little mastery over it. She was forced to remain and pretend to serve her captors for quite some time. Over this period, her captors attempted to find ways to extend her immediate precognition over longer periods of time. No matter what they did, she was never able to clearly see anything more than an hour or two in advance, and it took a great deal of effort and time for her to see that far - short of entering a concentrated trance, she can't normally see clearly more than a few minutes into the future.

Once it became clear to her captors that she would never be capable of the long-term precognition they had hoped to use to inform their strategies as an organization, they began to train her as an operative who could be sent into situations too high-risk for typical agents. Between this training and her own growing mastery over her precognitive abilities, she was eventually able to find an opportunity to escape her captors and flee, taking all the data she could steal with her.

Once she escaped, Grace came to learn that her captors worked for a shadowy cabal of powerful political and financial elites known as the Auctoritas. Most people considered it a conspiracy theory, but this was a small group of powerful men and women who effectively controlled most of the world through their political connections and wealth.

Alone in the world, Grace ended up on Sunyi because the lack of government authority made it a place of weaker influence for the Auctoritas. There, she met the bartender named Sari at a bar called Club Phantom who helped her find her footing. In return, Grace used her abilities to make money by card-sharking at various gambling dens across Sunyi, and eventually earned enough money to buy the building that housed Club Phantom from the landlord trying to extort Sari. Grace gifted the building to Sari and they rebranded the club as Ichoris, turning it into their base of operations for first establishing a base of power in Sunyi, and then to go after the Auctoritas.

Using the data she stole from Auctoritas, she was able to establish herself very quickly as a powerful information broker, trading secrets for money and power, and leaking secrets to damage the politicians and CEOs controlled by Auctoritas. Grace became known as Red Iris, for the large tattoo of three blood-red irises on her chest. As more people joined her and Ichoris became the centre of a true organization rather than just a front for Grace and a few friends, the organization soon adopted the name Red Iris as well.

Over time, Red Iris was able to chip away at the Auctoritas across the world until they were left as a shadow of the power they used to be. With her once-captors no longer a threat and with Sunyi firmly under her control, Grace has turned her attention to learning more about some of the strange new ways the paths of the future seem to be changing in front of her, and to the strange door recently discovered in the basement of Ichoris that she just knows isn't normal...

[viaaaviaaa21]

the summer I have left part1

The air smelled the same as before. That mix of salt, wet wood, and wild lavender. I had forgotten it. Or maybe I had locked it away, deep inside. Like everything else.

The boat had docked silently, and now, my feet stepped once more onto the sand of Beechwood Island. It was real. Too real. My hands trembled slightly. I had promised I would never come back.

But he was everywhere. In the sea breeze, in the creaking floorboards under my steps, in the golden light of the late afternoon. Johnny. That damn smile he wore like armor. His laugh that used to ripple through the island like wind. And his eyes, clear like water, that never ran from anything—except maybe himself.

The last time I was here, it was the summer of the fire. The summer of flames and screams. The summer where everything burned. The memories. The promises. The bodies.

I don’t know what made me return. Maybe I hoped to find him. Not alive. Not physically. Just... something. A sign. A trace. One last conversation. A way to say goodbye properly.

I walked up to the big house. The Sinclair house. It was still standing, but everything inside seemed frozen. Like an old Polaroid yellowed by time. The front door was ajar. As if he were waiting for me.

When I pushed it open, the air inside felt different. There was that silence. The kind that haunts places. I passed the living room, then the kitchen, and climbed the stairs. Each step brought me closer to the past.

His room was just as it had been. The old Celtics poster peeling off the wall, his sunglasses tossed on the desk, a skateboard leaned against the wardrobe. And on the shelf, the photo. The two of us. Summer 2013. We were ten. He had pushed me into the water just before the picture was taken. I was soaked, furious, but he had grabbed my hand at the last second. And I had laughed. Like always, with him.

I sat on his bed. The sheets still smelled like him. That mix of sand, wind, boy, and summer. And I cried.

I thought I had come to see him one last time. But now I realized I had come to find him.

And somewhere, through the silent walls, I thought I heard his laughter.

I stayed sitting on his bed for a long time. My fingers traced invisible lines on the sheets, as if I could redraw his outline in the emptiness. The silence around me was thick. Not empty. Full. Of memories. Of unsaid things. Of what we could have been.

I stood up slowly and opened the window. A sharp breeze entered, lifting the dust, stirring the curtains, making the air tremble. He would have cracked a joke at that moment. Something stupid. Something that would have made me roll my eyes while smiling.

But the wind carried only silence.

I went back down barefoot, silently. I didn’t want to break what was left here. The staircase creaked, but I knew where to place my feet to avoid the treacherous steps. It was always like a game with him: "See, if you step here and skip that one, Harris won’t hear a thing."

I passed through the kitchen. There was still an old red lighter on the counter. His. The one he used for fireworks or candles when he tried to impress me with an improvised dinner.

I stepped out the back door. The yard was deserted. Wild. Unkempt. Tall grasses had grown, and the paper lanterns still hung, torn, like the remnants of a party we left too soon.

I approached the spot. The one where he kissed me for the first time. We were alone, one August evening, the others had fallen asleep, and he had looked at me with that steady gaze. No words. Just a soft "come here" whispered into my hair. And he had cupped my face in his hands, like I was something fragile.

It was the kind of kiss you replay your entire life.

And now, I was alone, in that same spot, and my lips still remembered his.

I stayed outside until night fell. The sky turned indigo, then black. A shooting star crossed the horizon. I closed my eyes.

"If you're still here, give me a sign."

A gust of wind blew. Sudden. Strong. Enough to slam the door shut behind me. My heart stopped.

I went back inside, hesitantly. And that’s when I heard it. Not a laugh. Not a voice. Just... a breath. Like a whisper in the walls. A breath you only hear when you truly listen.

I climbed the stairs again, heart pounding. And when I walked into his room once more, I saw the impossible: his favorite shirt, the blue striped one, had fallen from the back of the chair. I hadn’t touched it.

Something was holding me here. Something bigger than the pain. Something I couldn’t let go of. Not yet.

And in that haunted house, that night, I knew: he was still here. Maybe not like before. But he hadn’t left me.

Not yet.

We were five that night. Johnny, Mirren, Gat, Cadence, and me. The fire—it was all our idea. A pact. A madness that seemed right, inevitable. To break the chains of that family. To burn what was suffocating us.

Johnny pulled me aside in the kitchen. He handed me a box of matches and whispered, "You take the living room. It’ll be quick. You pour the liquid, strike the match, and get out the back door. I’ll be in the attic."

He smiled. He always smiled, even in the worst moments. But his eyes—they were trembling.

I entered the living room. The floorboards creaked under my steps. I opened the bottle of gasoline. The smell made me nauseous. I soaked the curtains, the rugs. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would explode in my chest. I turned toward the large bay window. Behind it, the sea, calm. As if it had nothing to do with what we were about to do.

I struck the match. One. Two. Three. The fourth caught. And the fire caught with it. Slowly at first. Then violently.

The house felt darker, heavier than ever. The smell of soot was already filling the air when Cadence and I were downstairs, setting the fire as we had decided. The liquid on the rugs, the curtains—all soaked, yet the anxiety grew with every second.

I heard Johnny above, in the attic. He was moving, breathing hard; we could hear his hurried footsteps.

Mirren was upstairs, near the bedrooms, lighting her own fire.

Gat was supposed to stay at the dock, ready to leave by boat once everyone was out at midnight... But when I saw Cadence hesitate to leave, the fire started to spread, flames licking at the walls, I knew everything was about to change.

"Cadence, hurry up!" I said, grabbing her hand, fear making her slow.

She nodded, panicked. I saw the flames cross the kitchen door, but that’s where the two Labradors were trapped. I could hear them barking, frantic, locked in a storage room we had forgotten about—or maybe we’d been too rushed to save them. Their distress broke my heart.

"No… no, the dogs!" I screamed, running toward the kitchen, but thick smoke cut off my breath. But it was too late, the door was already burning and something was blocking it, so I decided to leave and find the others already outside waiting for us…

I held Cadence’s hand, her breath ragged against my arm. Together, we had started the fire downstairs, and we managed to get out, gasping, our hearts pounding like drums.

But as we turned around, I heard the screams. Johnny, in the attic—and I knew then. His howl of panic, rage, fear.

I froze. I ran toward the house, but thick smoke cut off my breath, pushing me back.

"Johnny!" I shouted, my throat tight, my voice broken.

Upstairs, Mirren was trying to get down, but the flames had filled the stairs. She was stuck, screaming too, calling for help.

The fire was closing in on them like a cage.

Gat, who was supposed to stay at the dock to leave by boat, had seen the smoke and rushed toward the house. Not seeing Cadence come out, he went in to look for her.

Because we had taken too long, no one respected the timing, and it was later that I understood that this was the cause of our loss—the cause of what happened to us, the Liars.

I watched the house burn, unable to move, unable to think.

Then, in a terrible crash, the gas lines exploded.

The blast shook the entire island, sending a shockwave out into the sea.

Cadence and I were thrown backward, into the cold water. The salt burned my wounds, my lungs screaming from the shock.

But far off, in the flames and smoke, I knew Johnny, Mirren, Gat, and the two Labradors were still trapped.

I screamed their names, over and over, while tears mixed with the salty water.

The fire swallowed everything.

[slashv1xen]

pov: ur comforting bo sinclair after he’s being emotional

gn!reader x bo sinclair - hurt/comfort + fluff

a/n note: this is just a self indulgent post, hope you enjoy! (TW: implications of childhood abuse, slight swearing)

you had just finished washing the dishes when you heard faint sobbing coming from upstairs. ‘who could that be?’

you walked up the stairs and opened a bedroom door. inside, was bo crying his eyes out (but as quietly as possible), a scattered pile of photos of him and his family as kids and scrunched up balls of tissues. as soon as the door opened his head whipped around to the door, his eyes red and watery.

the both of you made eye contact, both of your mouths slightly agape. bo immediately turned red and sniffled, avoiding your gaze and rubbing his tears aggressively.

“oh bo…” you say softly, walking to him and sitting on the bed next to him. he looked down, clearly embarrassed. you sighed, and cupped his face with one hand. “bo, you don’t need to hide your emotions from me, it doesn’t make you any less of a man. i want you to feel safe with me, and i want to you to know that you can always talk to me, okay?”

he looked up at you, his lip quivering as he obviously tried to hide his crying. " 'm not cryin', it's the damn dust in this room," he said as strongly as possible, however his voice broke in the middle of his sentence.

you looked down at the photos and held one, looking at the picture of a 10yo bo holding a fishing pole and a large grin on his face, the scars on his wrists appearing fresh.

"you crying over your upbringing? look bo, i know you've had a shit upbringing and i am so sorry, but whenever you feel this way please come to me, i'll never let anything like that happen to you again, alright?" you set the photo down on the bed, and your eyes met with bo's, who's eyes were wide open.

his eyes began welling up with tears again, but he looked away from you, gripping the sheet under him so tight his knuckles turned white.

"oh bo..." you whispered. you gently got up from the bed and sat on his lap (much to his surprise), and you cupped his face with your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. "what, what 're you doin'?"

"you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. i'm not here to force anything out of you, just let me hold you."

this sent him over, he couldn't contain his feelings like he usually does after you said this. he looked down and started quietly sobbing, and you pulled his head into your chest. you felt your shirt getting wet and his hands gripping onto your shirt so tight you were surprised it didn't rip. you wrapped your arms around his head, running one hand through his hair and the other scratching his back lightly.

"shh, i'm here bo, let it all out.." you cooed, kissing him every so often on the crown of his head. like clockwork, he started crying harder, his quiet wails getting louder.

this went on for some time, until he stopped (after around 20min). he looked up at you, with red eyes and damp cheeks.

“i love you so much, you know that right? i am-” you begin to say, when bo pushed his lips to yours, kissing you softly, never wanting this moment to end.

[small-sinclair]

Cotton Candy Dream

Bo Sinclair x plus size fem!reader

Slasher band!au

Inspired by @living-dead-author

⚠️NSFW. 18+ ONLY! NO MINORS⚠️

Contains: sexual photos for Bo, him eating you out, dirty talk, rough/passionate sex, fingering, cock warming, it’s kinda fluffy and smutty. NOT PROOFREAD.

He came home after tour, and you were ready for him.

Bo hung his hat on his hook and saw your photo, smiling like the sun and prettier than the stars. He can’t wait to love you, to sing for you at night, and make up for last time. He brought back postcards from every place he’s been for your collection. He also brought back a sweatshirt from St. Louis; it had the state flower on it and the arches.

Bo took off his boots at the stool and looked down. Looking back at him was a face down photo. He took it in his hands and turned it. It’s a photo of you in front of of a mirror wearing a bright red, skin tight, short dress. Your hair was down and looked like it was floating. He swallowed hard as looked down at it. The more he looked at it, the more he felt breathless.

Taking steps into the house, he found another one face down. He picks it off the couch and looks at the picture—

Bo felt his heart stop.

It was you wearing thinly laced socks and pastel blue underwear with a matching tub-top. You laid out in white sheets with your hand up your shirt to give a little peek just to tease him.

He grit his teeth and took in a sharp breath. As he looked up the steps leading to the bedroom, there was a picture in a simple white frame. He came up the steps and picked it up. His pants felt too tight as his eyes gazed on your photograph. All you wore was his hat and a smile. He felt his knees buckle as he traced over your curves. Looking up the steps, he thundered up to find you only to stop again and took the photo off the wall. It was you in all your glory with your makeup beautiful and hair down.

Bo had to find you.

He had to take off his belt and pulled his shirt off as he came closer to the bedroom. The smell of sweet strawberries and honeysuckle put him in a trance as he followed your outlined footsteps.

All of it was worth the follow as he stood in the doorway. He looked at you as you sat on the bed in pastel blue lingerie and white laced socks. He saw every thing he loves about you: curves, stretch marks along your waist, little freckles on your shoulders and arms. He swallowed hard as he leaned against the doorway, mouth going dry.

You smiled at him brightly, the cotton candy dream coming to life in his very eyes. “Welcome home, Bo,” you said sweetly. “Do you like the photos I left?”

Bo pushed himself off the door and held up the pictures. “Ya knew what you were doing, huh?” He asked, a smirk growing. He sets the photos down then takes off his socks. “Sweetheart, in all my days I never thought you would do somethin’ like this.”

You nodded as you moved away on the bed for him to sit and climb up to meet you. “Just missed ya.” The weight made the bed sink as he was on top, both hands on either side of you. “You’ve been gone forever.”

He laughs to himself as he kisses your forehead then trailed down to your neck, nipping at your skin just enough to hear a whimper escape. “Gods, I missed ya, too,” he admits. “Missed your touch an’ your sweet smile.” He kisses your neck. “Every concert I thought of you. Even when I looked out into the crowd, I would see ya in the front row.” His hands held your hips and buried his face into your shoulder, kissing the stretch marks he saw.

You giggle as you combed through his hair. “I lost some weight while you were gone,” you had a proud smile on. “It’s just ten pounds, but I’m happy about it.”

He smile against your skin as his kisses trailed down to your stomach. “Yeah? So proud of you,” he kisses a long stretch mark that went from your lower stomach to your hips. “So, so sweet and soft.”

His eyes looked up at you then your lips. “Kiss me?” You asked.

“Ya never need to ask,” he hums. He lifts himself up and kisses your lips passionately. You tasted like chocolate dipped strawberries and felt like a marshmallow in his touch. “I love you,” he whispers, “I love you.” He sits up to admire you once more. “Now, ya started something, sweetheart, and I’m gonna finish it.”

Bo lifts your hand and kisses it. “I’ll take care of you… promise. I got some time to make up.” He leans down and kisses you sweetly then unbuttons his pants.

*******

Bo licked your clit and buried his face deeper into you. His hums sent chills through your body as you tried to rock your hips, but his hands held you down. His tongue swirled and sucked, falling into love of your taste. He could have the taste of you in his mouth forever. He lapped you up and ate you like a starved dog.

He sits up and kisses your lips, bruising them as his fingernails raked over your skin. His hands took your breast and kneed them as if they were rolls ready for the oven.

“Oh, darlin’, I missed ya,” he breathes, kissing the other side of your neck. “I missed ya.”

You squirmed under him and tried to find friction between you and his black boxers. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Aw, did ya really missed me like that?”

“Bo, please—“

Your back arched as he bites your shoulder, moaning into your skin. His eyes rolled back; your skin tasted like cake. He sits up and spread your legs as wide as you could go and threw them over his shoulders.

“Did you touch yourself?” He asked, shoving two fingers in you. He listened to your squeak then cry. “Play with yourself while thinkin’ of me?”

“N-no—“ your voice cracked as he shoved a third finger in. “Bo!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he warns, moving his fingers around. He felt like a puppeteer as he pulled your strings and listened to you sing. “I know ya did. I know about that little secret of yours.”

Your eyes rolled as he thrusted his fingers in and out of you slowly. You felt yourself bubbling over. “Bo, please-please…”

He kisses your thigh then bites down. His eyes rolled as you heard you moan his name. “You can’t be doin’ that,” he says. “Only I can make you feel good.” He kisses another part of your thigh. “But I’m jus’ as guilty as sin.” His eyes met yours. “I thought about you when nights were too hot. I imagined you bent over in the tour bus, you pressed against the walls while a crowd watched,” he shivers as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. “I thought about you on your knees while I’m in the bloody priest outfit.”

“Gods, Bo!” Even him describing the situation made the edge in you yarn and dig. Two of the theee things sounded doable, though, but you’ll never tell him. Never. “Please-please, fuck me.”

He pulls his fingers out, licking them. His eyes rolled back as he savored in your taste. “Girl, you’re too sweet for me.” He looks down at you and grins. He felt so love struck by you that he couldn’t help himself but get lost in your eyes. “Be a good girl and hold still.”

Bo pushes himself into you slowly, feeling his eyes roll back, and heard your cry for him drive a knife through his throat. He left you alone for ten months. Ten months too long. He’s selfish; never once did he come home to visit. He left you here so alone with the pet fish in the tank down stairs and a room filled with plants and flowers. How many nights did you call out for him? How many times did you think of him? Missed him?

He was going to make up for it. All of it.

“So-so tight, baby girl,” he breathes. “So-so sweet and soft. So warm and pretty.” He threw his head back once he was fully in. He saw stars as he felt you clinch around him like a lifeline as you tried to find your own pleasure.

He pulls out before slamming back into you. He ruthlessly thrusted into you, hitting a pot he knows you love, and rocked his hips against you. He took his time as he heard you scream his name and cry out loud. He leaned down and kissed your tears as his thrust became deeper and deeper. He knows the pain of missing someone. He knows your pain and hated that he left you alone for this long.

“Forgive me,” he grunts in your ear as he runts into you. “Forgive me for-for being gone ‘is fuckin’ long.” He bites down into your shoulder as he felt you moan, the noise vibrating through your skin and in his teeth. “‘M so cruel. So cruel. Leaving’ ya wanting an’ alone.”

His arms wrapped around you and lifted you up. A hand around your waist and one behind your head. “Look at me,” he growled, fucking you faster and faster. “Look at me in the eyes an’ tell me you forgive me. Tell me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you tried to focus on him. Your arms wrap around his neck and brought your head forward to bump heads with him. Your eyes found his sweet blue eyes that you could get lost in forever and drown in. “I-I forgive you. I forgive you, Bo—!”

Your words got caught in your throat as he lowered you back down into the sheets. You clenched around him as you felt your body aching and slipping. You didn’t mean to scratch his back as you cummed on his cock. You never cummed hard like this before. You lost your breath as he thrusts through your high, chasing his own lust and need for you. His grunts turned into a growl as he came with you shortly after. It was something you never felt before from him, too. Black spots in your eyes, stars in your vision, your body turning numb under him and turning into putty under him. His thrust became sloppy and sluggish as he slowed down to a stop.

“N-no,” you whimpered, holding onto his hips as he started to pull out. “No… stay-stay like this.”

He nods as he lowered himself down, kissing your lips gently, and rested his head in your shoulder. He breathed heavily against you as he felt himself become limp. “Darlin’,” he managed to say, turning his head to meet with your warm face and soft eyes. “I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

He felt you slump against him, leaning into his touch. “You here for good?”

“Yeah, for a month or so,” he confirms. “I’m here with you, sugar.”

You smiled at his words. “Good… good.” You whimpered as he pulls out, missing his warmth, and pulled you up. You rested against his chest as started to drift off. “I love you, Bo.”

“I love you more,” he kisses your head and let you drift off safely in his arms. He holds you close as he looked up at the ceiling and the glow stars you put up.

You’re his favorite symphony. His only and greatest symphony.

[kingfisheress]

Imagine…

• You being injured by one of the Sinclair’s recent victims, the man plunging a stolen knife into your stomach, as you tried to knock him out

•Vincent finding you, with your hands already bloody from trying to put pressure on the bleeding cut in your stomach, heavily breathing

•Vincent picking you up in bridal style, after telling Bo and Lester to take care of the bastard who did is to you

•Him carrying you to the house, panicking at the thought of loosing you, since you had already passed out in his trembling arms

•Having reached the medical room of his father, Vincent carefully places you on the lounger, immediately getting to work

•Vincent has done it before, on his brothers and even on himself, but this is you… he‘s is terrified you‘ll die and he can‘t do anything about it

•Him doing a very good job stopping the bleeding and patching you up, and although you‘re still unconscious

•Vincent carrying you up to your room (which was his a while ago) and laying you in your bed, he can hear his brothers calling for him downstairs, but he can simply not move

• Him crouching down by your side, taking your smaller hand in his big ones, while Bo peeks through the door, asking how you are doing

•Vincent slowly nodding and now he‘s realising how tired he really is, lying his head on your pillow, with his lower half sitting on the floor and never letting go of your hand

•You waking up with a painful pulsing in your stomach, but there is a strange calmness in you

•You looking over to see a head of dark long hair laying on the pillow next to you, lifting your other hand, that’s not gripped by Vincent, to gently stroke over his head

•Vincent slowly opening his eye and realising you are awake, which results in him fisting the sheets and starting to cry

•You saying :“Hey, hey , Vincent I’m alright!”, at which he looks up, one eye red and teary behind the mask

•You taking his head in between you hands, thumbs stroking the waxy cheek of his mask, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead

•Hearing three words through the heavy breathing of him

•I love you

Hi guys, this is my first ever story on Tumblr, let me know if I should make more of this

Love you ❤️

Edit: Please excuse the spelling and grammar mistakes, English is not my native language 😅

[trianglestrategist]

Don Red Sheet makes a lot of sense ngl. If you decouple it from its association with Yi Sang's surveillance technology, it's all about moderation (gestures at armpit sinclair)(gestures at the talisman status and the abno fight). And wouldn't you know it, Don has a new vice to moderate, and a red one no less.

Also like I get that she couldn't have come out any sooner bc this relates pretty directly to her current situation, but man I wish this was a Season 0 EGO released this season instead of a season pass. Bc now I'm wondering if we're seeing STNOWC in another railway. Are they bringing back 2???? The actual worst one??????

[homiu-l]

🏵️ ☔️ 🍸 🔖

❌ 타커뮤니티로의 허락없는 재업로드를 금지합니다 DO NOT repost or use my art without permission ❌ DC에 재업로드하는 것을 금지합니다 DO NOT repost or use my art to DCinside

[thefaustandthefurious]

Red Sheet Sinclair being nerfed reminds me of how Laurel Yanny is minor coded. Because Sinclair, similarly, is minor coded

[bosinclairsgff]

Slasher's reacting to their s/o on their period

Yeahhhhh I just felt like writing about it because I am in fact on my period, anywho! Enjoy :)

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Corey Cunningham, Patrick Bateman and The Grabber

Warnings: Mention of kidnap, implied nudity and just some of them being mean..

Bo Sinclair

Bo woke up to you saying his name and shaking him softly. You had just started your period and you had bled through your underwear onto the sheets. At first, he was a little annoyed that it had gotten on the sheets but then he looked at how bad you felt and calmed down.

He would still be an asshole, but he would be a nicer asshole.

I think he would offer taking a shower with you to help wash you off so you would feel better.

If you asked him to buy pads, he would say yes but REALLY complain about it and be a bit pissed off. When he gets to the store and sees how many different types there are he gets STRESSED. He would grab you a random one and hope it's the right one.

If you asked him to buy tampons he would make some weird joke about using them. He would buy them for you though, still annoyed. Again he wouldn't know if there is a right size to get or what. So just be thankful for whatever you get.

Corey Cunningham

Corey had taken you out for a ride and you guys were having so much fun. But when the ride as over and you stood up to get off, he noticed a small blood stain on your pants. You were so embarrassed, but he assured you it was totally fine, that its normal and nothing to be embarrassed about. He gave would give you his jacket to wear around your waist.

He would be so sweet about it and would buy you all the chocolate in the world.

Corey would run you a nice bath then when you got out, he would cuddle and watch your favorite movie.

If you asked him to grab you pads, he would say yes but internally panic. He wouldn't know which brand to buy, or if it had to be a certain size. I think you'd get a text of a picture of the isle asking you to tell him which one to buy. Same thing with tampons.

Patrick Bateman

You were sitting in his bed just talking about your day when you stood up to use the bathroom. Once you got up, he sees blood on your panties and on the sheets. He. Was. Pissed. Patrick would defently yell at you for getting blood on his sheets. He would say something like "don't you know when you're going to start your period? You should be prepared. You have made such a fucking mess".

He would make you take a shower while he changed the sheets. Then he would ask if you even had the things you need.

He would you out and grab you whatever you choose to you and be really mad about it.

When he gets back to the apartment he would toss the pads in the bathroom and not say a word to you for the rest of the night.

The Grabber

He's not used to being around people who have periods so he would be so awkward.

One morning while giving you your breakfast he noticed you weren't eating, and you looked like you were in discomfort. He would ask once wrong and shyly you told him you had started your period. He would freeze. The Grabber hadn't even planned to keep you for this long so now that you had started your period, he had no idea what to do.

He would ask you if you needed anything or if you could just stuff toilet paper in your panties and that would do. When you explained it's better to have pads or tampons, he tried to not cringe while talking about it. This stuff made him so uncomfortable.

The Grabber would tell you he would be back in 30 minutes, and he was going to get you pads. Of course, he had no idea what to buy.

One of the older ladies working their noticed how long he had been standing there staring at all the pads. So, she helped him get what she thought would be best. His face was bright red the whole time talking to her.

Once he gets home, he would go downstairs with a few wet paper towels so you could clean up the best you could. No, he would not give you privacy and would watch you.

[honglufan]

So, both Donny and Ishmael got Red Sheet E.G.Os and to my knowledge one of the biggest yuri ships with Donny was DonMael (at the very least before the Xichin happened)... And now, in same preview, we get Tears of Tarnished Blood Hong Lu and Sinclair... I wonder if Project Moon are trying to hint at something

[limbus-polls]

**FAVORITE means whatever you want it to. Meta, lore, design, personal bias, anything.

[cherryhaunting]

[limbus x milgram]

red sheet sinclair mikoto