#please... please engage with the source material

[featherwurm]

Fun Karlach things revealed from party banter/dialogue/cutscenes (these are all 100% canonical to any run, as they are her talking about her past, these all appear in naturally accessable in-game dialogue):

She can touch demons and devils and other infernal creatures without hurting them, but opted not to in those ten years in Avernus as she says she's "not a masochist."*

She has had numerous past relationships, sexual in nature, which she describes as "quick to flare and quick to fade."

She says she was still sorting out "jumping into bed with anything with a pulse" and looking for more long-term relationships when she was sent to Avernus.

There are other infernal creatures running around with infernal engines in them but she thinks she's the only one from Faerun who survived the process (she knows others were tried but didn't make it.)

Loves a good bar fight/brawl (obvious but still cute.)

Likes walking around barefoot in the grass (which she calls "grassing", and she enjoys a good "frolic".)

Isn't keen to travel by boat down the Chionthar (from Moonrise) as her mum said the river was unlucky.

Liked to go swimming as a kid (presumably still does - after she's temperature corrected. Prior to that she mentions fear of boiling fish and her friends alive.)

Worries about being out of date, fashion wise, having been gone from Baulder's Gate for ten years.

Her mother's name is Caerlach (pronounced same as her daughter), and her father's name is Pluck. Their last name, Cliffgate, is the same as one of the lower city entries in Baulder's Gate.

Her dad was a porter and her mom was a laundress. They were poor but loving and fun.

They were poor but NOT destitute - Karlach mentions their household multiple times, and having her friends visit her family in their home. She also went to school (teasing that she'll cheer up Gale by saying she hasn't read "since school").**

When she was a teen her mom passed from illness during a plague when the family couldn't afford a healer quickly enough. Her dad passed a few years after when he was crushed by his own overturned cart on the road.

EDIT: This has been patched in later versions of the game - she does not mention her parents anymore fixing that inconsistency. There's some discrepancy about when she started working for Gortash, in the cemetery she says her parents would have seen him for who he was (implying she did not spend much if any time around him prior to their deaths). In the shadow lands she mentions he 'got his claws into her early' and that she earned enough to help her family move into a better place in the city under his employ (it's entirely possible she's referring to moving their bodies post-mortem though).

She was a young adult (describes herself as 'not-quite-kid') while in Gortash's employ, worked for him for a good span of time, and spent 10 years in Avernus. This means she's likely well into her 30s by the time of game events.

She, to her own admission in her origin, loved Gortash, but also explains that it was not romantic in nature (stating distinctly to the player character "not like that"). She clearly looked up to him as her boss and was deeply betrayed when sold to Zariel.

She lived with her friend Fitz when working for Gortash, who also worked for him at the time. Gortash lied to everyone around her about what happened to her (saying that she moved away suddenly.)

She does note up on meeting Gortash's parents and finding out they sold him to a warlock that he's repeated the same cycle on her.***

Fun fact: "Carlach/Caerlach" in the IRL is a relatively rare Scottish surname likely derived from MacThearlaich ("son of Charles" - typical naming convention dating back to pre- Norman conquest Brittan). Karlach is a very rare spelling of the name and probably was further anglicization on immigration to America (showing up in the 1920s.) As Karlach's mother has the same name as her, spelled differently - one could infer that perhaps her family passed it down in a way that felt more "Bauldrian" to them or was in some way easier to spell.

*Because I've seen this wrong elsewhere - it's not the material plane that's making her untouchable, it's the engine itself. Her engine stops actively hurting her when Raphael teleports you to the House of Hope in Act I - but she's still not touchable without fixing based on this dialogue.

**I've also seen this wrong - Karlach was never an orphaned street urchin and I don't know where people get this impression. Gortash did not "take her in" or mentor her, he was very clearly her boss, albeit one she was friends with and looked up to.

***She does not mean this as a literal one for one, of course, just that someone she trusted sold her to an infernal for his own gain.

[aroaceleovaldez]

not to complain about the show again but genuinely I think people should be WAY more pissed off that s2 cast an abled actor as a character with Down syndrome - particularly a character whose entire arc and narrative presence is focused on the fact that he has Down syndrome and how Percy has internalized ableism and how Percy unravels that (and also chewing out Annabeth for her ableism).

Like. Tyson has down syndrome. This is a very core part of his character, because like I've said before: the entirety of the first series is centered around and hinges on disabled stories and themes. If you are having an abled actor cast as Tyson you have already failed step one. Cause either you are actively erasing Tyson having Down syndrome or you are having an abled actor try to portray Down syndrome and neither of those things are okay.

[couch-house]

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Truly wish mangahood fans would just tell first time Brotherhood watchers to read the manga first to get all the context they need to make Brotherhood suck 1% less, instead of suggesting the broke-ass, tired "watch 03 until it diverges" nonsense.

These continuities do not line up. They do not click into each other. The characters in 03 are fundamentally different from mangahood, the events of fma 03 from episode 1 are fundamentally different to !the manga! let alone to Brotherhood. The way alchemy itself works is fundamentally different and that's pretty obvious when you compare mangahood and 03! So how are you going to funnel newbies into mangahood by feeding them half of 03?

I know we're all hoping new fans are as incapable of engaging with what they're actually watching as most existing fma fans, but it would make far more sense to prepare them by having them actually read the source material that Brotherhood is actually adapting, not an anime that Brotherhood has nothing to do with.

[sun-marie]

sometimes i get a comment on one of my fanart posts that is so clearly not related to the art but instead griping about whatever the source material is and i never know how to respond beyond being like "🧍🏻‍♀️ ma'am this is a wendy's"

[haltmann]

Finally giving in and mass following JP Undertale artists because they're the only ones who haven't been consumed by slop AUs

The western UT fandom sucks so fucking bad bro

[franollie]

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE THEN???? GET OUT OF THE TIMKON TAG???

[returnerfop]

I really love aus and things where characters are more an amalgam of all their iterations than a static single thing. Where the characters become like people not just because of how much depth they have but based on how much and what part of someone or some work you’ve engaged with. That’s part of why I love fandom as an extension of this mindset because now the internal differences in perception of a work or character becomes tangible when a fan creates fan work with their own interpretation. While all fandom has this tendency to branch and web, the fact that multiverse stories give an internal logic that justifies noncanon stories being equally true allows so much more creativity to flourish without a reason to hold up canon above all other interpretations

I love you fandoms with several continuations. I love you fandoms with conflicting canons. I love you fandoms with incomplete lore, I love you fandoms with inconsistant lore, I love you fandoms with too much lore to make sense. I love you fandoms with bad or weak worldbuilding. I love you fandoms that don't think of The Implications. I love you fandoms of reboots and remakes, I love you fandoms of video games, I love you fandoms with so many versions you cannot possibly tell what came first. I love you naturally accuring multiverses, and fandoms where the AU is an inherent part of the franchise. I love you character that have had countless looks and personalities and stories but stay the same at their core. I love you fandoms that force the fans to pick and choose. I love you fandoms that have a million slightly different canons by design.

[plutosunshine]

How to Make Your Life Fulfilling? Venus in houses

Venus in the 1st house

Venus in the 1st house gives you a natural charm and warmth that draws people in effortlessly. You have a way of making others feel seen and appreciated, and this can open so many doors for you, both personally and professionally. To make your life more fulfilling, lean into that charm—but not just for the sake of getting along with people. Use it to genuinely connect, to create meaningful relationships that feed your soul rather than just your ego.

Since Venus is all about beauty, love, and harmony, surround yourself with things that bring you joy and a sense of peace. This could mean curating a beautiful living space, engaging in creative self-expression, or even just taking time for self-care rituals that make you feel good in your own skin. You naturally exude a certain magnetism, so embrace it—but remember, true fulfillment doesn’t come from how others see you. It comes from how you feel about yourself.

Also, with Venus in the 1st house, you may have a tendency to seek validation from others. It’s great to be liked, but don’t let it define your worth. The more you love and value yourself for who you truly are—not just for how you present yourself—the more you’ll attract people who genuinely appreciate you.

Venus in the 2nd house

With Venus in the 2nd house, your sense of fulfillment is closely tied to your values, possessions, and the way you experience comfort and pleasure. You have a natural talent for attracting resources, whether it’s money, beautiful objects, or people who support you. There’s an appreciation for quality over quantity, and you tend to seek out things that feel luxurious or aesthetically pleasing.

However, true fulfillment with this placement isn’t just about accumulating things—it’s about aligning your resources with what truly matters to you. What do you value most? Is it security, beauty, love, or perhaps a sense of self-worth? The more you connect your resources and talents to those deeper values, the more content and abundant you’ll feel.

You also have a knack for making money through Venusian pursuits—art, design, beauty, or anything that brings pleasure to the senses. But watch out for the tendency to equate your self-worth with your net worth. Venus here can sometimes get too attached to material validation. Instead, focus on cultivating self-love and appreciating what you already have. That’s where the real sense of richness comes from.

Venus in the 3rd house

Venus in the 3rd house brings charm and grace to the way you communicate. You have a natural ability to connect with people through words, whether it’s through writing, speaking, or just casual conversation. You can make even the most mundane topics sound interesting and engaging, which makes you someone others enjoy talking to.

To feel truly fulfilled with this placement, lean into the art of communication. Share your thoughts, write, journal, or even engage in storytelling. You have a gift for making connections, not just between people but also between ideas. You could thrive in roles where you’re able to express yourself creatively—writing, teaching, marketing, or social media.

Relationships with siblings, neighbors, or people in your immediate environment can also be a source of pleasure and support. Venus here can bring harmony to these connections, but it can also indicate a tendency to avoid conflict or gloss over difficult conversations. Remember, true connection comes from being authentic, not just charming.

There’s also a love of learning with this placement. You’re drawn to beautiful words, poetry, art, or even music with meaningful lyrics. Feeding your mind with things that inspire and uplift you can be incredibly fulfilling.

Venus in the 4th house

Venus in the 4th house brings a deep love for home, family, and the feeling of emotional security. You’re someone who finds fulfillment in creating a beautiful, comforting, and harmonious living space—a place that feels like a sanctuary. Your home is likely a reflection of your personal style and values, and you might have a knack for interior design or decorating with a touch of elegance and warmth.

Relationships with family, especially with women or maternal figures, can be significant with this placement. There’s a desire to maintain peace and harmony within the family unit, and you may be the peacemaker, the one who smooths over conflicts or tries to keep everyone happy. But it’s important to ensure that your own emotional needs don’t get lost in the process of keeping the peace.

On a deeper level, Venus here suggests that you seek emotional security through close, loving connections. You thrive when you feel loved and supported at a core, foundational level. It’s not just about physical comfort—it’s about feeling emotionally safe and valued by those closest to you.

You might also have a love for nostalgia, family heirlooms, or anything that carries sentimental value. Surrounding yourself with things that evoke happy memories can be incredibly fulfilling.

Venus in the 5th house

With Venus in the 5th house, life becomes so much more fulfilling when you let yourself fully lean into joy, creativity, and self-expression. This placement is all about letting your inner artist come out to play. Maybe it’s painting, dancing, writing poetry, or just finding little ways to make everyday life feel more romantic and fun. You’re someone who thrives when you’re creating beauty or experiencing it, so make time for the things that light you up.

Love and romance are also major sources of fulfillment for you. But it’s not just about falling in love with someone else—it’s about falling in love with life itself. Date yourself. Treat yourself to little luxuries, whether it’s a spontaneous weekend trip, a fancy coffee, or a night out doing something you genuinely enjoy. The more you infuse your days with moments that feel special, the more alive you’ll feel.

And don’t forget to play. Venus in the 5th house is like the cosmic permission slip to embrace your inner child. Go do things just for the fun of it, without any expectation of being productive or impressive. Whether it’s a silly game night with friends or trying something new just for the thrill, those moments of pure, uncomplicated joy are what keep your spirit thriving.

You also have a gift for making others feel special, and that can be incredibly fulfilling. Compliment someone, write a love letter, or surprise a friend with something thoughtful. The love you give has a way of coming back to you tenfold, especially when it’s given without expectation.

Venus in the 6th house

With Venus in the 6th house, life feels more fulfilling when you find beauty and pleasure in the everyday routines. You’re someone who can turn even the simplest tasks into something enjoyable—like making your morning coffee a little ritual, organizing your workspace to feel cozy and inviting, or putting on your favorite playlist while you get things done. The more you bring a sense of grace and harmony to your daily life, the more content and grounded you’ll feel.

Work and service are big themes here too. You’re at your best when you’re doing work that feels meaningful, especially if it involves helping others or creating a more pleasant, harmonious environment. Maybe you have a knack for making things look beautiful, whether it’s arranging flowers, designing a workspace, or just bringing a calm, welcoming vibe to the office. The key is to find work that not only supports you financially but also feels rewarding on a soul level.

There’s also a desire for balance and harmony in your health and wellness routines. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re taking care of yourself in a way that feels good rather than just going through the motions. Think gentle movement, nourishing foods, or creating a relaxing bedtime routine that genuinely helps you unwind.

Relationships with coworkers or those you see on a day-to-day basis can be another source of warmth and connection. You’re someone who can make even mundane interactions feel pleasant and kind, and that energy tends to come back to you. Small acts of kindness, thoughtful gestures, or simply taking time to connect can bring a lot of subtle but lasting fulfillment.

Venus in the 7th house

With Venus in the 7th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re deeply connected to others in a way that’s balanced, loving, and genuinely harmonious. You’re someone who craves meaningful, one-on-one connections—whether it’s a romantic partnership, a close friendship, or even a business collaboration. You naturally know how to make people feel seen and appreciated, and that energy tends to draw others to you like a magnet.

Romantic relationships are especially significant with this placement. You thrive in partnerships where there’s mutual respect, affection, and a sense of shared beauty—whether that’s creating a beautiful home together, going on romantic dates, or just finding little ways to make each other feel special. But it’s not just about having a partner; it’s about having a partnership that feels balanced and fair, where both people feel equally valued.

There’s also a talent for creating harmony and peace in your interactions. You’re a natural mediator, someone who can smooth over conflicts and help people find common ground. This can be a gift in both personal and professional relationships, but it’s important to be mindful of not over-compromising just to keep the peace. Your needs matter too.

Life also feels more fulfilling when you surround yourself with beauty and grace. Maybe that means planning intimate gatherings, visiting art galleries, or simply spending time with people who inspire you. The more you cultivate relationships that feel warm, loving, and aesthetically pleasing, the more fulfilled you’ll feel.

Venus in the 8th house

With Venus in the 8th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re diving deep—into relationships, into your own psyche, into the mysteries of life. Superficial connections just don’t do it for you; you crave intensity, intimacy, and transformative experiences that feel almost soul-deep. You’re drawn to people and situations that make you feel seen in ways that are profound, raw, and real.

There’s a magnetic, almost hypnotic quality to your presence. People may find themselves confiding in you or feeling inexplicably drawn to you. But fulfillment doesn’t come from just any connection—it comes from those rare, all-consuming bonds where you can be completely vulnerable and still feel safe and valued.

Money and resources can also be areas of focus with this placement. You might find yourself drawn to situations involving shared finances, inheritances, or investments. You could even have a knack for attracting wealth through partnerships or strategic alliances. But the deeper lesson here is about not letting money or possessions define your worth. True abundance for you is about emotional and spiritual richness, not just material wealth.

Sexuality, too, can be a path to fulfillment. You’re someone who experiences love and desire intensely, and casual flings may leave you feeling empty. You crave the kind of connection where intimacy isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, psychological, even spiritual. When you find someone you can trust enough to let your guard down completely, that’s where the magic happens.

Healing and transformation are big themes here too. You have the potential to deeply heal yourself and others by facing your own shadows and helping others face theirs. The more you embrace the depths of who you are—the light and the dark—the more empowered and fulfilled you’ll feel.

Venus in the 9th house

With Venus in the 9th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re exploring, learning, and expanding your horizons. You’re someone who finds beauty in the bigger picture—in new experiences, different cultures, and the pursuit of knowledge that opens your mind and heart. Routine and predictability can feel stifling; you crave the excitement of discovering new perspectives and connecting with people who inspire you to think differently.

Travel can be a major source of joy and inspiration. You’re the type who falls in love with distant places, foreign customs, and the feeling of being somewhere completely new. Even if you can’t physically travel, exploring new philosophies, spiritual practices, or higher education can give you that same sense of expansion and fulfillment.

Relationships often take on a more adventurous, expansive quality with this placement. You’re drawn to people who broaden your worldview—those who challenge you to see life through a different lens. Romantic connections might even come through travel, education, or shared beliefs, and you’re likely most attracted to those who have a bit of a free spirit or worldly vibe.

You also have a love for wisdom and meaning. Superficial small talk? Not your thing. You want conversations that go deeper, that explore life’s purpose or the nature of love and beauty. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re discussing philosophy, spirituality, or big-picture ideas that make you feel more connected to something greater than yourself.

Venus in the 10th house

With Venus in the 10th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re recognized for your talents, beauty, or charm in a public or professional setting. You naturally know how to present yourself in a way that’s attractive and appealing, making you someone who can easily win people over in business, career, or social circles. There’s a magnetic quality to how you carry yourself, and people often notice your grace, style, or charisma.

You’re someone who finds purpose in being admired for what you do, not just who you are. There’s a desire to be respected, appreciated, or even loved for your work or contributions to the world. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re in a role where you can express your Venusian qualities—art, design, fashion, beauty, diplomacy, or any field where creating harmony and aesthetics is part of the job.

Relationships can also play a significant role in your career or public life. You may attract partners who can elevate your status or support your ambitions, or you may find love through work or professional connections. There’s a natural talent for networking and forming alliances that are both beneficial and pleasant.

However, the lesson here is not to get too caught up in appearances or external validation. It’s great to be admired, but true fulfillment comes from doing work that feels aligned with your values and brings a sense of genuine accomplishment. When you’re creating something that feels beautiful or meaningful to you, the recognition naturally follows.

There’s also a graceful, diplomatic way you handle responsibilities. You can be a natural mediator or someone who brings a touch of elegance to leadership roles. People may look up to you not just for what you achieve, but for how you achieve it—with poise, tact, and a genuine love for what you do.

Venus in the 11th house

With Venus in the 11th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re surrounded by people who share your values, dreams, and ideals. You’re someone who thrives in groups, communities, and friendships where there’s a sense of connection and mutual support. You naturally attract people who are kind, artistic, or socially conscious, and you have a knack for making others feel welcome and included.

Friendships can be a major source of joy for you. You’re the type who genuinely enjoys connecting people, bringing different circles together, or planning gatherings that feel warm and inclusive. You have a way of making group settings feel more harmonious, and people are drawn to your easygoing, likable energy.

There’s also a love for causes, movements, or shared visions. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re involved in projects that bring people together for a greater purpose—whether it’s activism, charity work, or just creating a sense of community. You’re someone who can bring a touch of beauty or artistry to group efforts, whether that’s through creative collaborations, event planning, or just making things feel more pleasant and inviting.

Romance can also have a slightly unconventional vibe here. You might find yourself falling for someone who feels more like a best friend, or you could meet partners through social groups, online communities, or shared interests. The lines between friendship and romance can blur, and you’re likely drawn to people who share your hopes and dreams for the future.

But the key to feeling truly fulfilled with this placement is to stay connected to what you love, not just who you love. What are the big dreams and visions that light you up? What kind of people make you feel inspired and uplifted? The more you surround yourself with those kinds of connections, the more your Venus shines.

Venus in the 12th house

With Venus in the 12th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re tapping into the deeper, more subtle layers of love, beauty, and connection. You’re someone who experiences love in a soulful, almost otherworldly way. There’s a natural pull toward the mystical, the hidden, and the unspoken, and you may find yourself drawn to people or experiences that feel a bit like a dream or a secret.

There’s a deep, compassionate heart here. You’re someone who can love unconditionally, often seeing the beauty in people that others might overlook. But there can also be a tendency to give too much or to lose yourself in relationships, so finding that balance between self-sacrifice and self-love is key.

Solitude can be incredibly nourishing for you. Time alone, daydreaming, creating art, or simply getting lost in your own inner world can feel as fulfilling as being with others. You might find peace through spiritual practices, meditation, or spending time in nature—anything that allows you to connect with the intangible.

Love can be a bit elusive with this placement. There might be secret relationships, unspoken feelings, or attractions to people who are somehow unavailable or difficult to reach. There’s a romantic, almost fairy-tale quality to how you experience love, but it can also mean that you’re drawn to situations that are more fantasy than reality.

Art, music, and anything that allows you to express the deeper, more emotional parts of yourself can be incredibly healing and fulfilling. You have a gift for channeling your feelings into something beautiful, and the more you do that, the more your soul feels nourished.

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄 | Marcus Acacius x reader

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summary | once your dad's greatest friend, now his greatest enemy. you cannot shake the desire and care you feel for the fallen general, even as he heads toward death.

author's note | LISTEN, none of this is going to be accurate. and frankly idc, i'm horny i needed to write this do not come at me. no source material? idc i'm still writing it. anyways, enjoy the p*rn. (if you're reading this prior to the movie coming out, none of this is canon. this is just an idea that i wanted to write and felt like posting, if you do not like the idea of writing without source material, please do not engage or send me asks to be combative, they will be deleted. i won't be continuing this specific fic and will not be writing for him again until the movie comes out.)

content warning | 18+ smut, this is dbf for the gladiator girlies (gn), sneaking around, descriptions of smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampies, breeding kink, age gap (reader is early 20s, marcus is late 40s/early 50s), alcohol tw, innocence kink

word count —2k

You knew he would be here soon, he must. 

You curled into the dark corners of the arena hall, having been here since dawn with your own father, a high military commander who struck down Marcus as punishment for such things even he wouldn’t tell you about. You knew nothing, heard nothing—you weren’t allowed such privilege. 

It has been days since you last saw him—Marcus. General Acacius to many, another esteemed leader amongst the masses, and a once great friend to your father. Though, that was no longer.

You often called him sir, finding that General Acacius was quite the mouthful. Or often just General, but his endearment toward you was blatant and he insists, almost pleading that you drop the formality when alone. Which was easier, as your fondness of him grew.

It started at a celebration, one of the many grand parties thrown in celebration of fight won or any reason for the men to drink, but Marcus liked to linger. Often tucked away in a corner watching the madness unfold, you were too curious to stay locked up in your room.

The first night he caught your eye, it was a smile around the edge of his silver goblet drowning in red wine, a hand crossed over his chest as he watched you slip away in fear that he may say something to your father.

But, he never did.

For weeks after, it progresses. From a smile, to a lingering gaze, eventually he finds himself inching closer to you, week by week. Until one night he finally finds the courage in himself to be waiting by the corner you often sneak around, watching curiously.

“You are pushing it, dove.” He speaks softly, his eyes downturned to look at you from the step he was on above you, slowly inching down until he was level, “if he catches you—”

“He hasn’t,” You tell him in a clipped, hushed tone, “and you haven’t said anything. You won’t….will you?”

He bypasses the question, “Why do you come here?” Marcus curiously asks, “These men, they are—animals, if they see you dressed like that, they would not hesitate to—”

You had on a pale nightgown, thin and barely enough to cover your modesty but it was enough. The sticky, summer heat prickled your skin, formed a line of sweat across your brow and you huffed out at his words, “My father would murder them. Besides, you are not like them. So, why do you linger here?”

He was much more than a friend, closer and akin to family. 

But, he had his own troubles. Stepson, a wife, he should be away caring for them. Yet, he was there with a disgruntled scowl and eyes only set on you.

“Why not?” He shrugs, “It is…quite entertaining. Isn’t that why you sneak around here to watch?”

You mimic his shrug, shying away slightly as you pull away to leave, but his hand catches your wrist, his cup placed in the gap of pillars separating you both. His facial expressions show an internal battle of thought, like he’s fighting against the bad and hoping the good would win out.

Unfortunately, the bad prevails.

“Let us walk,” He tells you, nodding toward the exit a few feet away, “if you would accompany me?”

You nod eagerly, switching the grip on your wrist to curl around his bicep, muscular and hard from years of fight training. He flexes slightly at the touch, covering his free hand over yours in a comforting gesture. 

He made you feel safe. And that was all that mattered to you.

—

The walk was the first mistake.

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before you found yourself tucked away by a nearby tent, unbuckling and unfastening Marcus out of his gear hastily before he fucked you under your nightgown—gentle but firm. He was the first man, the first ever to have you in such a way. You’d told him so as your hands shook under the weight of his gaze, the taste of bitter wine on his lips. He’d kissed you as he pushed his cock inside of you and didn’t stop until you were tipping over the edge.

Over time, you grow bolder. Sneaking him back into your home was easy, knowing the guards weren’t as watchful in the late, late hours of the night. It was dangerous, reckless, but as you tug him down into the cellar and sink to your knees, it all fades away quickly.

His little dove, he often calls you. Sweet dove, so pure and innocent. His hand caresses your chin as you swallow him down, eyes locked on his half-lidded gaze before he comes down your throat, nose scrunching up slightly and his brow furrowing, biting at the back of his other hand to muffle the groan that escapes him.

It was always like this—hurried and quick fucks that didn’t diminish the feeling, but reminded you how easily you could both be caught. It continues for months…and months, until suddenly he stops coming around.

No parties, no visits—Marcus had become a ghost.

But, enough digging had led you here, tucked away in the shadows again—but watching as he fought for his life. The other man was much older, weaker, and Marcus struck him down within a matter of minutes, blood splattering across his face as he stuck again and again, bashing the poor man’s skull in until it was nothing, teeth gritting as his body surged with adrenaline.

Gladiator fighting wasn’t a new thing—and you knew he wasn’t the only one, but why?

He’s making his way down the arena toward the pillar you are tucked behind unknowingly, alone and battered as the guards run off to dispose of the body. You aren’t sure where Marcus is going now or when you would see him again, but you take the chance when you know no one is watching, grabbing him by the armor plate on his chest and pulling him away and into a dusty closet, knocking into a stack of buckets in the process.

You gasp as his hand wraps around your neck, fist cocked back in preparation of an attack.

But, then his eyes land on you.

“Dove, what are you—”

You shush him quickly, hands molding against his face and the dried blood, his breathing quick and short as you attempt to calm him.

“I had to see you—I thought…I thought you had—”

“I might as well be,” Marcus replies somberly, “we cannot meet like this. We cannot meet at all.”

“It’s fine, It’s fine–” You assure him, reaching forward to press your lips against his.

Marcus pulls away hesitantly, grabbing your face roughly until you look at him, eyes widening.

“They will kill you. I cannot see you again. I should not even be here with you.”

Your eyes well with tears, forcing yourself forward again to capture his lips and this time he allows it, opening his mouth slightly as your tongue dips inside, working silently at the buckles to his chest plate.

“No talking. Let us…enjoy this. If it is the last time.”

You were both well aware—he would fight for his life or die, that was it. And he would fight until that point came. He was no longer a General, completely stripped of his power. But, he was still Marcus. And you would hold onto that for as long as you could.

He’s shaking, the adrenaline raking his body and making him restless as you kissed him, tongue dipping into his mouth again as his hands roamed, squeezed, caressed. 

“I will not break,” You whisper into his mouth, “take what you need, Marcus.”

It was all he needed to hear, turning you around swiftly and forcing your down with a hand against your back, arms pressing into the shelf in front of you as he pushed up the silk, carefully woven and intricate fabric of your dress—so pristine and perfect. He wanted to rip it off you, be he refrains, squeezing at your hips while he kneels behind you.

“Marcus, you need not—”

“Quiet, little dove. Let me have this,” He licks against your cunt hungrily, noisy slurps as he lapped you up, squeezing less than gentle at the inside of your thighs as they shook, his tongue swiping over your clit, a broken moan slipping past your lips, “beautiful—let me hear you.”

“Marcus,” You plea, his fingers joining his tongue as they breached you and drag against the soft, but incredibly sensitive spot inside of you, your hand reaching for his wrist tucked between your legs as you whined out his name once more, twice, until your legs gave out, feelings his strong, broad shoulders flexing as he used his brute strength to keep you upright, licking up the gush of fluids that leak out of you, rising with haste and untucking himself from his garments, wrapping a gentle hand around the back of your neck before he’s pulling you upright harshly.

“Want to leave you something,” He whispers against the shell of your ear, “something to remember me, if I shall never leave here. Something of me for you to carry on. Alright, sweet dove?”

You nod knowingly, as Marcus had always been careful to pull himself out before breaching that point. He was always careful, hesitant—but being on the brink of death, he found himself careless and desperate. He couldn’t let you go.

He slips inside of you with a hand tucked around your throat, pulling your back to his chest as he snapped his hips into you firmly, groaning lewdly into the side of your neck as he bit down, squeezing at your throat with every soft sound you made and you want it just as bad, forcing your hips back into every push of his cock—you were positive this pain would last you into next week, but you needed that reminder. His fingers dip into your skin, hard and uncaring and sure to leave marks, but that was what you wanted.

And his groans quickly turn needy, more high-pitched than you’ve ever heard them

He’s holding back, restraining himself. You turn your head, catching his heated gaze as he pants, your thumb tracing over his lip. His hand drags over your stomach, rests, curious of how beautiful you would look swollen and carrying his child. 

It is a hopeful and distant dream, one that he will never foresee.

“Give it to me, Marcus,” You beg him, “I want it.”

It so easily undoes him, “Take it, my dove,” He growls, coming deep inside of you with a shaky thrust of his hips, squeezing you tight against him, “I think of you, always. You must know—know that.” 

It pulls at your heart, tugs in a way that makes your entire body ache. He pulls out with a low grunt, silently tucking himself away as you adjust your dress.

“And I love you,” You admit, watching as his gaze pulls up quickly, “even if you cannot say it back. I know. I know you do.”

Marcus breathes harshly through his nose, crowding you once more but it is soothed by a gentle kiss, “You need to leave—do not come back here.”

“Marcus,” You counter, sadness lacing your tone.

“If, by some miracle, I make it out of here,” He drags his thumb along your jawline, pausing on his words as he looks you over, memorizes you, “I will find you.”

You nod jerkily, eyes never breaking from his, “Just like you always have.”

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

thanks to @chaotic-mystery & @pr0ximamidnight for being the absolute best friends ever and beta'ing this for me on a moments notice, ily both.

[changbunnies]

Angel of Music (18+)

♡ Pairing: Phantom!Minho x Opera Singer Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: phantom of the opera inspired au, horror themes, dark romance, age gap, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :'), the ending is also a lil dark, sorry!

♡ Word Count: 5.8k

♡ Summary: A phantom exists in the opera house– he controls every production from the shadows, lurks around every dark corner, always watching. In your dreams exists an angel– a guardian that sings to you, guides you, and comforts you. When The Phantom appears before you in your dressing room mirror, you begin to realize that he and your angel may be one in the same.

♡ General Warnings: slightly less extreme age gap than the source material that inspires this fic but it's still fairly large (reader is ~mid 20s and minho is ~40), briefly described attempted murder of minor characters, implications of stalking, hypnotism, hallucinations + doubts of reality, so much usage of the words "phantom" and "angel" it's not even funny, this fic is not an accurate representation of how hypnotism works irl but it's fiction so i'm taking liberties!

♡ Smut Warnings: dubcon (due to reader being hypnotized), additionally to not being in their proper state of mind, there are also moments in which reader does not feel to be in full control of their body, light dom/sub dynamics, soft pleasure dom!minho because i want more of him !!, mask kink (does it still count if the mask doesn't cover his whole face?? idk i hope so!), some biting, oral (f rec), overstim, multiple orgasms

♡ Notes: i've known for ages that i wanted to write a phantom!minho fic, and my kinktober series gave me the perfect reason to finally write it! also the fact that both my uploaded minho fics are age gap romances?? that was not intentional i swear lmao

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

All inhabitants of the opera house have been on edge these days– consequence of the new owners of the Opera Populaire, who decided to disregard all of The Phantom's demands.

The Phantom, as the name suggests, is a ghost story of sorts. According to your castmates, he has been here since long before you joined the Opera Populaire's trainees last year, but his activity has begun to increase since your arrival.

He controls all in the opera house, and his demands of the previous owner were always quite simple; perform what shows he instructs you to, follow his casting down to the letter, and keep the seats in Box Five free at all times. Evidentially, Box Five is his favorite place to watch the shows from– and sometimes, his dark silhouette can be spotted in the shadows of the booth, indiscernible but unmistakably there.

No one has ever truly seen The Phantom beyond a shadow, nor have they heard him speak. He communicates with notes, always left within feet of the recipient without anyone having seen him come or go. His notes will even appear in broad daylight, with not a single person having caught a glimpse of him despite all the eyes in the room.

Well, more accurately, no one has seen him apart from the Madame– an older woman who used to be a performer for the Opera Populaire herself, but has taken the role of choreographer since her retirement from the stage. In the 15 years it's been since The Phantom made his presence known to the opera house, she's the only one who's ever seen him, or heard his voice.

A brief encounter, she explained when asked about it– had barely seen him for more than a few passing moments. He spoke little, but the beauty of his voice was striking, completely unlike any other she’d ever heard. And all he asked of her, in that fleeting moment, was to remember that the Opera Populaire is his home– and as long as the inhabitants respect him, he'll respect them in turn.

The previous director, the Madame, and The Phantom all had a mutual understanding of what was to be done. As long as they listened to him, shows would go off without a hitch; but refuse, and there'd be dire consequences. As such, the Madame has been doing her best to express the importance of listening to The Phantom to the new owners.

The Monsieurs view it as no more than silly superstition– every opera house has their own beliefs and customs, things they consider good and bad luck before a show, things they view as omens of a show's future success. The Phantom is simply one of those things– and with a guiding hand, they can dispel such superstitions, show the cast and crew that there is no shadowy phantom to fear.

The first note left for the Monsieurs went disregarded– a barking laugh leaving the elder of the two before he tossed it in the bin. The instructions on the note were clear enough– you were to take the role of Eurydice in the opera house's production of Orpheus and Eurydice, and not Carlotta, as they originally casted.

You were just as baffled as everyone else to learn that The Phantom wanted you to take such an important role– you'd only been here a year, were still so new to your opera training. It's true enough that you have a good voice, and your dancing has improved with all your diligent practice, but you're still young, and the tragic role of Eurydice is not so easily performed.

Natural talent for bringing emotion to performance aside, you lack stage experience– experience that you can easily gain from background roles. To make you such a crucial stand-out role after only a year of training was simply unheard of– no opera house would do it!

This is to be your first production, your first time on stage in front of an audience; and so regardless of what The Phantom wants, Monsieur Reyer opted to keep you strictly in the supporting chorus roles, where you would go from shepherdess, to nymph, to spirit as the acts progressed. Not a glamorous, shining position in the cast by any means, but more than enough to help familiarize you with the reality of performing with hundreds of eyes watching.

It wouldn't take long for The Phantom to make his displeasure with the decision known. And what started off as just small accidents and stage mishaps quickly turned violent and dangerous as each week passed with you still not given the role that The Phantom felt you deserved to have.

The first violent turn came during rehearsals for Act 3, right in the middle of Eurydice's climactic aria, when the chandelier above the stage came crashing down. Carlotta was standing directly beneath it just before it fell, and it narrowly missed her– purely because she happened to take a few steps forward whilst singing.

“An unfortunate accident,” the Monsieurs said, “it had nothing to do with The Phantom!” But the veterans of the opera house knew better– and the conductor swore he saw a dark shadow on the scaffolds just before the chandelier fell; a shadow that could belong to none other than The Phantom.

Carlotta screamed as it crashed just mere inches away from her, right where she's just been standing, and cried as everyone rushed to her side to ensure that she was unharmed. Again, the Madame tried to persuade them to heed The Phantom before another such “accident” occurred.

"Good God in Heaven, you're all obsessed! These things just happen sometimes– there is no phantom!" Reyer cried in exasperation over everyone's insistence, still unwilling to give in to the idea that the opera house's ghost was real.

And tonight, just after rehearsals came to a close, another terrible stage accident occurred– this time happening to Monsieur Reyer himself. He was up on the scaffolding when it happened, making sure all the stagehands properly rigged the lights in preparation for tomorrow night's premiere of Orpheus and Eurydice.

He was bent down, inspecting the bulbs and wires, when a dark figure appeared behind him. The shadow wrapped a noose around his neck faster than anyone could even react, pushed him off the scaffolding before swiftly retreating back to the shadows.

Reyer almost didn't survive– he was lucky that the nearby stagehands were quick on their feet and in their wits, managing to grab his arms and pull him up while another cut the rope that served to hang the poor man. And as if the message from the accidents alone weren't clear enough, another note was left behind right in the middle of the stage.

It was astounding, really, that not a single person saw The Phantom leave the note behind– and while some could argue that it was because all eyes were on Reyer, or because the stage became chaos as they worked to save him, the Monsieurs realized that maybe they should start to believe that there really is a ghost inhabiting the Opera Populaire.

The moment the note was noticed, the Madame picked it up, and read it aloud for all to hear. "Again, I remind you that Y/N will play the role of Eurydice. As I instruct, Box Five shall remain open for my use. These seats will not be used by another. This is my final warning– disregard at your own risk."

Realizing they had no choice, lest they wish to continue putting themselves and other cast and crew in danger, the Monsieurs begrudgingly declared you the new Eurydice, right then and there.

Given that you're at every rehearsal, you know Eurydice's lines by heart, and are confident that you can sing them well– but still, you're nervous. It's your first production, the premiere is sold out, is set for tomorrow night, and suddenly you're in one of the most pivotal roles in the entire opera.

You don't even understand why The Phantom is so adamant about giving the role to you; what is it about you that he likes, what is it that he sees in you? You wish you could ask the Madame, but she met him so fleetingly, and so many years ago– she has no way of knowing The Phantom's heart beyond an educated guess.

Sitting before your dressing room mirror, you sigh, utterly exhausted– now that you're Eurydice, it was vital that you do a last minute costume fitting and makeup test. As such, you've been in the opera house hours past the time you'd normally be here. The moon hangs high in the sky now, you're sure; you wonder if you should just spend the night here, sleep in the dressing room instead of making a late trek home.

Regardless, you hope your angel comes to you tonight. You know no one would believe you if you told them, but you really do have a guardian angel; and in your dreams, he comes to you– always when you are most lost and in need of guidance. He's a gentle, calming presence; always comforts you, talks to you sweetly when you're filled with self doubt, sings to you in the most beautiful of voices.

You've never actually seen your angel clearly– only heard his voice calling your name and whispering, singing, in a way that could only be described as angelic in its serenity. In your dreams, he's nothing but a vague, blurry image– even at his most clear, you can't define any of his features.

Still, you think of him fondly– and you suspect that as an angel, you aren't meant to be able to fully perceive him. And your angel always, always, knows when you need him– you suspect that even now, he's waiting; waiting for the moment you fall asleep, so that he can come to your side.

You look at yourself, still dressed as Eurydice. A beautiful, off shoulder bateau gown in the prettiest, purest ivory. There's lace appliques throughout the gown, has a beautiful cinched bodice before the tulle skirt fluffs out. It's elegant, makes you feel like a bride waiting to walk down the aisle.

Your makeup shimmers– extra glitter applied on your eyelids to make sure the stage lights catch it. Your jewelry too, is extravagant– made to sparkle and shine every time a light shines on you, to twinkle with each subtle move you make. It's a shame you have to take it all off just to put it all back on tomorrow– but the effort to make sure everything fits you was necessary.

You reach your hands up to one of your ears, prepare to remove one of your dangling earrings when you hear a voice you know all too well call your name– your angel's voice.

You look around the room, bewildered, but see nothing and no one. And surely you were mistaken– you're still awake! Your angel only comes to you in dreams, and you haven't fallen asleep... right? You are still awake, aren't you?

Again, you hear his voice, another whisper of your name. You rise from your chair, look around the room once more– no one. You turn back to the dressing room mirror, and jump in surprise, realizing that the view reflected in it has changed. You no longer see yourself, or the reflection of the dressing room around you– instead, you see a man.

He looks just as the Madame described her memory of The Phantom– dark hair, and even darker eyes, with a white mask that covers the right half of his face. Not completely– just from his hairline, down to his pretty, plump lips. Every inch of his skin is covered, head to toe, all of his clothes pure black apart from the ornate red vest.

Sleek boots and dark trousers, a tall collar that obscures most of his neck, long sleeves that cover his arms, even gloves covering his hands. He wears a cape, long and as dark as the rest of his clothes, and it blows behind him as if there’s a breeze rolling through.

You’re confused, a little frightened, but you can’t tear your eyes away or will yourself to flee– and as the figure speaks your name, you gasp; he truly has the voice of your angel. But he’s The Phantom, isn’t he? 

The blurry, vague scenery behind him begins to sharpen, coming more distinctly visible to your uncertain eyes. A dark corridor full of candelabra, glowing in dull yellows and shades of orange, held by incorporeal hands with no discernable origin.

What little of your dressing room you see in your peripheral shifts and warps as you stare at him, blur together into dark shadows as the table holding your hairbrush and makeup begin to fade and disappear, leaving the view through the mirror as the only thing you can see.

The figure– your angel, The Phantom?– holds his hand out to you through the mirror, as if the glass that should separate you no longer exists; perhaps it doesn't. Smoke– or maybe fog, mist? you can't be certain– pours into the room as you approach the mirror.

As if under a spell, you reach out to take his hand, thinking not of logic as you follow the beckoning call of your name. Your angel; you trust your angel. He smiles as you place your hand in his, and carefully, you step through the mirror, into the corridor.

Entranced, you stare at him; even with half a mask covering his face, he's utterly beautiful. He appears to be older than you, hints of fine lines beholden around his mouth and eyes, and even that adds to his mysterious charm. He holds your gaze as he takes a step back, a candelabra in his hand now, beckoning you to follow him down the corridor.

You squeeze his hand as you follow, and finally he turns around, walks with purpose as he guides you, glancing behind every so often to look at you in what you think to be adoration. You too, glance behind– and where the mirror once stood is now a desolate, barren wall.

You do not see any hint of your dressing room, or of the mirror you stepped through. And as you continue further down the corridor, the candelabra that were once behind you slowly begin to blink out and vanish from sight, leaving only pitch black darkness behind. A spiral staircase made of stone manifests, and you descend it, hand in hand with your angel.

You're so enchanted and bewildered, you can't seem to find your voice– all you can do is follow, let him guide you along to where it is he wants you to be. Even the staircase dissipates when you've finished descending, and for just a moment, you wonder– is any of this truly real?

Finally, you stand in the middle of a beautiful room, lit candles both resting in more candelabra and strewn about the floor, with dark, intricately woven tapestries hanging from the stone walls. There’s a grand piano, sleek black with gold accents, with even more candles resting atop it, as well as a sheet of music sitting pristine on the music desk, black ink seemingly freshly dried, just waiting to be played. 

There are several mirrors, though only one remains uncovered– the rest are obscured by cloth, for reasons you do not know. There is a bed, in what you suppose would be called a “corner” in this otherwise circular space, inviting and plush in its appearance, with blankets colored a rich red. Naturally, candles surround the bed as well, covering it in a beautifully soft, yellow-orange glow. 

“Where are we?” you finally find your voice to ask, and the man smiles as he beckons you to follow him towards his bed. “We are home,” he replies, and though it’s a strange answer, you feel you understand– yes, you are home. This is home. 

You gaze at him curiously after you sit on the bed, just as comfortable as you expected it to be, and he mimics the way you’ve tilted your head at him. “You’re.. My angel, aren’t you? Or are you The Phantom?” you ask, and the man laughs ever so softly, melodious and beautiful. 

“I am Minho,” he responds, as if that alone is a sufficient enough answer– in a way, you suppose it is. What else is there to know? He is Minho. That is enough.

“I have longed to touch you, to bring you here,” Minho whispers as he reaches one of his gloved hands to your face, strokes your cheek slowly, gently. The sensation, though simple, feels so tender– it sparks something inside you, fills you with a warmth you’ve never felt before. You close your eyes, bask in the comfort his touch provides you. 

You feel his hand move, travel down until his fingers are under your chin. He tilts your head up, and you open your eyes to see him gazing down at you warmly. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, speaking to you as gently as he always does. He’s said it before, in your dreams– that you are beautiful, talented, deserving of all you wish to have.

He never lets you linger on self-doubt, never allows you to think you are lesser than someone else, or undeserving of the opportunities you’ve been granted. Your angel knows you– you think he’s appearing to you now, like this, because he knows you are uncertain of playing Eurydice; he must think that he needs to remind you of just how special you are. 

All of your doubts about tomorrow’s premiere– he will dispel them from your mind, as he always does. He kneels before you, gazing at you carefully as he inches closer to you, his hands softly rubbing over your shoulders and down your arms. His attentive stare as he caresses you makes you breathing quicken, your heart starting to pick up speed.

“Do you trust me?” Minho asks suddenly, and with not an ounce of hesitation, you nod. You’ve no reason not to trust him– in the year it's been since your angel first appeared to you, you’ve always trusted him. There is no one else that makes you feel so secure, so at peace, so.. Loved, cared for. Yes, your angel, Minho, loves you, cares for you like no other. You trust him. 

“I wish to clear your mind of worry and doubt– to make you think only of me, and the music we can make together. I wish to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you," he says, and oh, he knows he shouldn’t be pouring his heart out like this, for it’s too soon, much too soon. But he’s been enamored with you since the first moment you stepped into the Opera Populaire, has been infatuated with you since first hearing the passion in your voice.

He can’t help it, it seems– now that he has you here, in his lair, his defenses falter, all of his desires pouring out of him. To have you here, and to touch you like this, even so simply– it’s everything he’s wanted. And instantly, unconsciously, you reach out to him. Your angel sees you, knows you– you wish to know him too, to understand him the way he does you.

Your mind is somehow as clear as it is hazy– clear, because you know what it is that you want. Regardless of who he is, what he is, you want Minho to have you. Anything he wants, you feel compelled to give, as if it’s all you know; and in this moment, perhaps it is. In the very back reaches of your addled mind, a reminder blares– The Phantom always gets what he wants. 

And what he wants now, most of all, is you; and despite what logic may tell you to feel, you trust him to have you. He sees all that you feel in your expression alone, knows all that you think as if he’s seen into the depths of your mind. Even now, perhaps more than ever before, he sees you. 

Sees all that you are, and all that you want– and a charming smile plays on his lips as you gaze at him with wanton desire to let him take you. To let him have, to give yourself over– you wish to offer yourself wholly to your angel’s desires.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, a soft press that you could almost call chaste, his hands slowly moving over your body, each soft touch lingering. You don’t feel his gloves anymore, you realize– did he take them off without you noticing? You suppose it doesn’t matter– his hands are warm, a bit rough and calloused against the soft skin of your arms, and you like it.

Even as his kisses become less chaste, deepen as his hands travel to your hips, they remain slow and purposeful. His hands eventually find the bottom of your dress, begin to lift it ever so slowly up your thighs– not to expose you, but so that he can slot himself between your legs. Somehow, innately, you understand this– and easily, you spread your legs for him, allowing him to find his place between them.

His arms wrap around you after, pulling you closer, pressing your body to his. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly by the time he pulls away, breathless as you look to him with eager, impassioned eyes– a gaze that heats his otherwise cold heart. You reach up, bring your hands to his face; he nearly flinches when you touch his mask, though he knows you mean no harm. 

Minho feels himself ugly under his mask– too scarred and disfigured to be appealing to you in any regard; at least like this, with only the good parts of his face on display, you may find him handsome. Your touch is as soft as your gaze, and though perhaps you should, you make no move to remove his mask; you simply rub your thumb over the cold porcelain.

It’s a vulnerable thing, really– how softly you touch his ugliest spots. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see them from beneath his mask– the tender regard you seem to feel for him, even without having seen the scars that mar him, is more than enough. It’s ironic, in a way, that you seem to think he’s an angel; in reality, the only angel in this room is you. 

“I want to please you, if you'll let me,” he breathes as his fingertips ghost over your thighs. It makes your breath hitch, blinking at him slowly as you process his intent. There is much your angel wants– but chasing the pleasure of his own flesh isn’t one of those things. He doesn’t need it to feel satisfied; your pleasure will more than suffice him.

His dark eyes bore into yours as he awaits your answer, can tell from his wanting gaze how serious he is about pleasing you, and it makes your cheeks slowly bloom with heat. And it’s not just what he wants– it’s what he needs, really; when you surrender yourself to him, he wants it to be for your pleasure, not his own. 

“Oh, please– touch me,” you answer, plead– because something from deep inside you screams for it, wanting it beyond all comprehension. Your darkest, most innate desires manifest for him; desires that you didn’t even fully realize you had. They possess you, drive you to kiss him again, urgent and passionate. 

Minho returns your kiss with equal fervor, lets his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours. They share a dance, swirl around each other until you’re breathless again; and then he’s guiding you back, urging you to lay down as he hovers over you. He pulls the skirt of your dress further up your body, until your thighs are entirely exposed and he can see your dampening panties. 

He lowers himself to you, but doesn’t go immediately where you expect him too– he takes his time trailing wet, lingering kisses over your thighs instead. Your inner thighs are sensitive, ticklish, and you can’t help but squirm from each kiss he grants you.

You also can’t help but jolt each time the cool porcelain of his mask presses against the hot skin of your thigh, and again when he carefully sinks his teeth into your pliant flesh. He doesn't do it hard enough to hurt, or even fully leave indents of his teeth behind– just enough to leave you panting and squirmy; and he lets out a soft, airy laugh every time he succeeds in the endeavor. 

Your bunched up skirt is so full that you can hardly even watch him work you up; but there are times, while kissing and biting over your trembling thighs, that he lifts his head just enough to let you catch his gaze. It makes your heart skip a beat, butterflies dancing in your stomach every time he locks eyes with you while kissing around where you need him most.

You reach a point where you’re no longer squirming because his attention tickles, but because you’re becoming desperate, impatient; and the way he stares at you as he does it all doesn't help in the slightest. “Minho, please,” you whine, shameless; and you can feel him smile against your skin before he lifts himself up from his place between your legs. 

“Needy are we, angel?” he asks, grinning as you pout and nod. “Need you,” you mumble, but he hears you loud and clear; he’s attuned to you, your angel is. He lowers himself between your thighs once more, kisses your pussy over your panties– and it’s not quite what you need, but it’s enough to have you gasping and quivering. 

Again, he takes his time, as if not a single ounce of urgency resides within him. And make no mistake, it does– but Minho knows how to restrain himself. He’s a stubborn man, that is certainly true, but he’s also perfectly in control of himself; for now, anyways. 

And he likes the way you whine for him when you feel his tongue lick you up over the fabric of your panties. It’s not a full enough feeling for you, or a full enough taste of your pussy for him, but the desperate, whiny sounds it draws out of you are delicious enough to satisfy him.  

Still, while he’s enjoying the way his soft kisses and kitten licks over your panties is making you writhe and cry for him, he also can’t deny how badly he wants to finally taste you directly on his tongue. He’s been patient enough, he thinks, and so have you– why not indulge just a little sooner than planned?

In contrast to how sweetly he’s treated you up to this point, he’s quick to tear your panties away from your body. The sound of the fabric ripping makes you gasp, and maybe later he’ll apologize– but for now, lapping his tongue between your folds is of more importance. You moan when his tongue finally meets your bare pussy, as does Minho– and despite the hunger that he feels, he continues to lick you over slowly. 

The languid pace makes you crazy– you want more, so much more, but your angel has been waiting for this; he needs to take his time with you, needs to embed the taste of your dripping sex on his tongue, needs to make sure it’s something he’ll never be able to forget. And he isn’t trying to tease you by keeping the slow pace– well, maybe he is a little; he does enjoy it, after all– but he’s sincerely craved this for too long to let the moment quickly pass him by. 

He brings his hands to your thighs, squeezing them in his hands and preventing you from closing them around his head. You’re sure it’s partly so he can keep you spread out for him, to keep enjoying the easy access to your pussy, but it’s also so that your trembling thighs don’t cause his mask to shift, and fall from his face. 

You gasp when the cool, smooth and rigid porcelain covering the right side of his nose bumps your clit as he shoves his tongue into your hole. And while he isn’t purposely trying to get you to cum just yet, his slow but diligent ministrations are getting you there regardless– with his tongue dipping in and out of your heat, always pushing in as deep as he can make it go, and his mask-covered nose nudging your clit. 

You let your head fall back against the bed, your every high pitched whimper and moan echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You try to tell him you’re going to cum, but you fail miserably– all that leaves you is a quick succession of whines before your eyes are rolling, back bowing off the bed as release on his tongue. Minho moans with you, hums happily as he licks the mess from your pussy like the cat that got the cream. 

He laves over your clit when he’s done licking up your cum– and it's sensitive, swollen from your orgasm; but that doesn’t stop him from swirling his tongue around it, and positively knocking the air from your lungs. The sensation is overwhelming, he knows it is even without you telling him, but it’s still so good that you don’t want to squirm away, or ask him to stop– or perhaps you can’t. 

You get the distinct feeling that even if you tried, your limbs would resist, would fight to keep you in place– despite your best efforts, you would remain just as you are now. Spread open and trembling, exactly how Minho wants you. “You make the prettiest music, angel,” he separates from you long enough to speak, “want you to keep singing for me.”

And sing for him you do when he dives back in, flicks your clit with his tongue a few times before wrapping his lips around it, sucking it like a piece of hard candy. Your moans, the smacking sounds of his lips, the way he hums when he returns to your hole to collect the cream– it’s an orchestra, just for the two of you.

You cum again in record time, of course you do. Minho finds it cute, the way you incoherently babble away as you let go for him again. And he isn’t done just because you came again– no, he’s far from finished with your pussy. He doesn’t tire in the slightest, ceaseless in the way he lavishes with you his tongue and suckles with his pretty, perfect lips. 

When you cum for the third time, you don’t even know if you truly ever stop cumming at all– the pleasure just keeps coming in waves, never fully receding before it builds again, washing over you like a tsunami before it all repeats. You writhe and twist, back repeatedly bowing off his bed before falling back, but your thighs stay spread for him, even when his hands stop holding them down. 

His hands have found their way beneath you, cupping and squeezing your ass as he eats away. Your hips wriggle, and he helps grind you up against his face, moaning and humming all the while. It’s too much and not enough all at once; your body screams that it can’t take it, and yet your mind screams that it needs more, and God, you can’t think straight– but is there any point in this night that you were?

You’re hot and heaving, sweat dripping from your brow as you tremble and bend. Minho is hot too, of course– his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his face red from his cheeks to his ears, and even down his neck. And were you not so far gone, you’d have noticed that his mask has shifted and fallen from his face. 

It was because of you, too– when another high took you and tugged on his hair hard, crying as your hips jolted and bucked against his face. He should’ve swiftly put it back on, lest you see his scars, but he didn’t– he just shoved it aside, against his better judgment, so he could keep licking you up without interruption. 

You feel positively delirious by the time he’s finished, eyes heavy and bleary, body utterly limp and boneless. He crawls his way up to you, and your gaze is unfocused, blurry; you can hardly distinguish his features anymore– similar to the way he always appeared in your dreams before now.

Regardless, you smile at him before you close your eyes; a weak, but content one that Minho finds oh so endearing. You’re beyond fatigued, but also feel an unmatched sense of elation as your angel strokes your head and whispers sweet nothings for you to fall asleep to. “You belong to me now,” you hear him say, just before you drift off– and you know it’s true. 

You think, perhaps, you’ve always belonged to him. From the very first moment Minho saw you, he knew he was never going to let you go. And just as Orpheus had done for Eurydice, he’d gladly walk into the depths of Hades itself if that’s what it took to keep you by his side. 

He gently caresses your cheek as you fall into a deeper sleep, presses a soft kiss to your lips and whispers a final soft utterance of love before he covers you with a blanket, and your mind goes completely dark for the night. 

You wake the next day with a struggle– at least, you think it’s the next day; it’s too dark in the room you’re in to tell for certain. You reach out for Minho, but don’t feel him anywhere– and as you sit up, and your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that you are alone. Your brows furrow as you look around; you’re still in his room, but it doesn’t look quite the same. 

There are no candles, not on the floor or in the candelabra that now lie empty. The tapestries adorning the walls are torn and dulled in color, the piano dusty and the gold decorating it chipped. The sheet of music that sits on the piano’s music desk, that last night looked so fresh and pristine, now appears weathered and yellowed.

As you grab the blanket to pull it off you, you realize it isn't a blanket at all that is covering you, but a cape– Minho’s cape. And on the bed, just an arm’s reach away from you lies a note– the same kind that The Phantom always leaves behind inside the Opera Populaire.

Your hand trembles as you pick it up, eyes straining to read it in the darkness. The message he leaves behind, when your eyes focus on the words well enough to read them, is quite simple. “To my beloved and beautiful Eurydice; welcome home.”

[arayapendragon]

all in one shifting subliminal 🦋

if this subliminal found you, it's no coincidence. this is a divinely blessed, all in one shifting, channeling, lucid dreaming, and manifesting subliminal that helps you drift into your desired reality with ease. i invoked the powerful hindu deities lord vishnu and lalita tripurasundari into this subliminal, and by listening to it, even once, you will receive a huge surge of their divine blessings and receive enhanced and improved shifting skills. i spent a lot of time, energy, and effort into this subliminal. i really hope you guys like it, there's also an overnight/music-free version if you prefer that :)

also -- please do not use this subliminal if you disrespect hindu values, or are a hinduphobe. your energy is not welcome in this space and this subliminal will not work for you

☥ 𓂀 benefits 𓂀 ☥

⤷ shift to your desired reality with ease ⤷ dream of your desired reality frequently ⤷ lucid dream of your desired reality ⤷ receive signs and messages from your desired reality ⤷ always be motivated to shift realities ⤷ shift realities through any method and state ⤷ shift realities whenever you want, no wonder how you feel ⤷ always be happy and in a good mood to shift realities ⤷ channel anyone from your desired reality ⤷ always be aligned with your desired reality ⤷ receive divine guidance and blessings from lord vishnu (god of dreaming and consciousness, and the ruler of the multiverse. surrendering to him not only frees you from the cycle of birth and death but also detaches you from the material world (this reality) so you can ascend as a spiritual being into a higher plane of existence) ⤷ receive divine guidance and blessings from lalita tripurasundari (the ultimate reality, the source of all existence, and the consciousness that pervades the universe) ⤷ make your mind your best friend, and make it work in your favour (absolvement and riddance of intrusive thoughts, doubts, blockages, and negativity) ⤷ shift realities in an instant ⤷ align with the frequencies of crystals like amethyst, moonstone, and many others that heighten your intuition and psychic abilities, thus helping you shift ⤷ make shifting second nature and easy for you ⤷ be deeply immersed in your desired reality ⤷ engaging your 5 senses in your desired reality ⤷ connecting to your desired reality ⤷ extra: special sanskrit affirmations and powerful words that penetrate your conscious and subconscious and permeate your mind permanently ⤷ manifest your heart’s desires easily

[kleopatra45]

Ooooh! Can you please talk about part of fortune in the house in solar return charts?

Part Of Fortune in Houses [Solar Return]

1st House

This placement indicates a year where your happiness and success are closely tied to personal growth and self-discovery. You may feel more confident and able to express yourself authentically, leading to opportunities that enhance your sense of self. Physical appearance, health, and vitality could also be a source of joy.

2nd House

With PoF in the 2nd house, financial success and material security are likely themes for the year. This could be a time when your income increases, or you find new ways to manage resources. The year may also bring clarity about what you truly value, leading to more aligned and fulfilling financial decisions.

3rd House

Happiness may come from interactions with your immediate environment, such as siblings, neighbors, or through writing, teaching, or studying. It’s a year where communication skills are highlighted, and you may find joy in sharing ideas or engaging in intellectual pursuits.

4th House

The focus this year is on your home life, family, and inner emotional world. You might find happiness through making your living space more comfortable or spending more time with loved ones. There’s a sense of emotional security and fulfillment that comes from your roots or past.

5th House

Expect a joyful and creative year, where pleasure, romance, and self-expression play a significant role. You might explore hobbies or talents that bring you happiness, or enjoy time with children or younger people. This can also be a time of romantic fulfillment and playful experiences.

6th House

The Part of Fortune in the 6th house suggests that your happiness this year comes from daily routines, work, and taking care of your health. You may find fulfillment in being of service to others or improving your well-being through better habits and self-care.

7th House

This placement indicates a year where relationships and partnerships are central to your happiness. You may experience growth through marriage, a significant partnership, or close friendships. Your interactions with others bring joy, and you may find success in collaborations.

8th House

The 8th house placement suggests a year of deep emotional or psychological transformation. You may find happiness in exploring the hidden or taboo aspects of life, such as through spiritual practices, therapy, or occult studies. Shared resources, inheritances, or financial investments may also bring unexpected gains.

9th House

You’re likely to find fulfillment through expanding your horizons, whether through travel, higher education, or exploring different cultures and philosophies. This year may involve spiritual growth, teaching, or publishing, with success coming from broadening your perspective.

10th House

A year where your career and public reputation are highlighted. You may achieve significant success or recognition in your professional life, and your ambitions are likely to be fulfilled. Your sense of happiness and purpose may be strongly connected to your achievements and standing in society.

11th House

With the PoF in the 11th house, your happiness is tied to social connections, friendships, and community involvement. You may find success through group activities, networking, or working towards a collective goal. It’s also a year where your hopes and dreams can manifest, especially with the support of others.

12th House

This placement suggests a year of introspection, solitude, and spiritual exploration. You may find fulfillment through retreating from the world, engaging in meditation, or exploring your subconscious mind. While it may be a more private year, the growth you experience internally can bring profound happiness.

©️kleopatra45

[andypantsx3]

there was a poll on this a while back i think but i can't find it so:

(1) yes, i imagine the reader as myself, sharing most if not all of my traits. the reader character is meant to be a stand in for me personally, allowing for a few key differences to ground them in the narrative, e.g. a different job, super powers, or some physical characteristics that match the universe of the source material.

(2) somewhat, i imagine the reader as a rough character template. i do not actively imagine this character as myself, but rather a stand-in or placeholder relatable everyman(gn), with distinct (but largely universally relatable) character traits displayed mostly only as needed to engage with the plot.

(3) no, i imagine the reader as their own character in the narrative. i do not actively imagine this character as myself, nor as a relatable template. this is their own character within the narrative with a distinct personality and appearance and i am using second person POV as a perspective only.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

I think so many of the issues between book fans vs musical fans in the fandom come from the fact that people are pretending they're the same story, so people get really upset when they see one of their favourite characters being mischaracterized or left out, when in reality they are two DIFFERENT stories that share the same SOURCE MATERIAL. Like, I love the book. My blog is very much focus around the book, and there is a reason I don't tag my content with the musical tag very often, because the Darry Curtis I'm writing about is NOT the same Darry Curtis from the musical. And that's okay! It is! I know it seems crazy but they're both great characters, they're just not the SAME character. My favourite character is Steve Randle, but I haven't thrown a shit fit about how he isn't included as much in the musical because it's a different story, and because what content does exist for musical Steve offers lore for a very interesting character. Just like some people get all upset about blogs and content focusing on the soc characters in the musical, and I'm like I don't know what to tell you, I haven't even seen the musical and I know that the socs play a more important role in the story the musical tells than they do in the book; and that the musical universe makes it so it's far more likely that the socs and greasers COULD potentially have more aquaintanceships/childhood friendships/ post adolescent relationships than the book in which Ponyboy consistently notes that neither the greasers nor socs as a whole can see past their way of life to see the other side as people. Idk, I just think people from the book fandom and musical fandom need to just accept they're different stories, with different characters, with DIFFERENT messages and themes. Like, you really can't mischaracterise a character when the character that's being 'mischaracterized' is a different character to start with. Musical Dally isn't book Dally, full stop, but that doesn't mean that the musical character isn't fleshed out and deep and interesting and a complex addition to the musical, just like it doesn't cheapen the fact that book Dallas is the centre of the story. They just serve a different purpose, because they're two different characters in two different stories, neither one is 'better' than the other because they're NOT the same thing. I just wish people would stop vaugeposting and hating and othering each other, and it's getting the point where people need to learn to either engage with both stories or use filters to curate their fandom experience, OR collectively decide to split into two separate fandoms and tag stuff the outsiders book vs the outsiders movie accordingly, because I really love the Outsiders but all the petty fighting is driving me crazy , it's exhausting and it's making me want to leave the fandom altogether and I highly doubt I'm the only one. In the nicest way possible, please examine both stories for what they are, be mature, and act accordingly. Please.

[sl4sh3rsub]

patrick bateman hcs (nsfw: mdni)

patrick bateman x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warnings: overall pretty toxic, homophobic and misogynistic, there's a lot of infidelity/cheating and drug usage/alcohol too. there is also shaming of sex work - this is purely fictional and i do not condone this behavior in real life. i wrote in these elements because they appear in the original source material, not because i hold these opinions/views. mentions of extreme kink/fetish (knife play, blood play), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), oral sex (giving + receiving), handjobs, cockwarming, implied dom/sub dynamics (patrick is a top + sugar daddy/dom/slight sadist + is entitled, reader is more submissive + sweet), lots of cum + precum/arousal, reader sometimes treated as sex object, marking (bruises, bite marks, hickeys etc.), dubious consent? (overstimulation, he can be manipulative, reader flashes someone in afab section), reference to past rough sexual encounters, lots of sexual tension, patrick is sociopathic(?) + gets hard a lot + is possessive/slightly domestic but still rough, canon colleagues (schrödinger's judgement + they're horny), nipple play, voice kink/voicemail sex, threats/mentions of canon (?) violence (not towards reader), exhibitionism + public settings, consensual filming of sexual acts, gun play/fear play, cigar gets extinguished on reader (research risks properly before trying irl, please stay safe), hired sex worker, mentions of surgery in ftm + mtf sections, rip jean + evelyn's emotions

a/n: i'm a massive fan of the broadway musical (bootleg available on youtube) and i've seen the film twice, but i still need to read the book!! i've listened to this youtube audiobook (ai voice patrick reading it - part one) and it kinda goes hard. anyway, peeb ateman is soft with reader in this one, so it could potentially be a little ooc.

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

patrick is already engaged to evelyn when he meets you. he's very well aware that she's seeing timothy price, so he might as well have his own fun - divorce isn't in fashion this year, so being prepared for that potential outcome might turn some heads and patrick hates judgmental attention

if you're already in a relationship with someone, he'll whisk you away immediately. you deserve so much better than some chump who can't afford to spoil you, he'll prove his superiority with his shiny silver card

show him genuine affection and take interest in his music taste!! if you listen to him and take time out of your day to participate in conversation, he'll abruptly stop mid-sentence to process that you're invested in his recap of his day :( you'll have no issues with him from then out - you respect him and he'll respect you. he's quietly thankful for how kind you are to him

if patrick has a yearning to dabble in a certain kink or fetish - such as knife play or extreme blood play - that you're not willing to participate in, he'll just find someone who can satiate his needs temporarily. no harm done, patrick just wants to make sure he's not taking complete advantage of you - he'll pay for you to have a delicious dinner and fancy hotel for the night, don't worry. he still wants to take care of you and reassure you that no one is taking your place, and that you'll still have him in the morning... he just needs to let out his extreme urges throughout the night

his way of showing affection is brushing his nose against you, whether it be your temple, ear or cheek as he whispers sweet nothings to you. he longs for subtle contact and the gentle warmth of your skin. he's also addicted to burying his face in your neck or pressing his lips against your crown when he fucks you from behind or squirming in his lap, the small puffs of hot air tickling your flushed skin and his lidded eyes rolling at your scent

he digs his fingers into your lower tummy while he fucks you, feeling his cock ram deep inside you - he's shamelessly using you as his own fucktoy, massaging his length to get himself off. the extra pressure against his tip has him shuddering at the delicious sensation

yeah sure, patrick might be a weirdo and a loser but he can fuck you like he loves you (maybe he does) and spare cash to dry-clean your cum off his expensive suits... fair trade, no?

he practically becomes your sugar daddy - you're his personal doll to dress, provide for and parade around proudly. he wouldn't trade the satisfied glint in your eyes, or the rhythm of your glistening arousal dripping on his wood paneled floors for anything. after a long day of spoiling you, he becomes a little selfish in the bedroom and chases his high with no regard for how overstimulated you might get :(

he is obsessed with dressing you to match his personal perception of you - that is to say, have you dressed in a manner that would make atheists reconsider and have the faithful herald you as their new deity. he wants to ensure that everyone know why he worships you the way he does. even if you don't feel confident in your skin, he quietly reassures you that your bashfulness only adds to your charm

you're his personal model and his precious doll - plaything, if you will. after you return to his place from perusing the designer shops, he lounges back with a whiskey in hand and patiently watches you show off your latest purchases on his card. he'll ask you to spin or swap shoes to match the outfit every so often, even asking you to bend down towards him just so he can adjust your collar or hairstyle. if he gets taken aback by how stunning you look in a certain outfit, expect him to get carried away and start panic rambling - he'll explain the specifics of the material, cut or brand as his fingers roam your body with devotion and his eyes greedily drink you in. his voice gets progressively huskier throughout the show until he gets to the expensive undergarments hidden in matte bags and tissue paper - he fucks you in front of the mirror, reveling in the way the material hugs your skin and how your skin shifts as your muscles clench with every thrust

after he warmed up to you, patrick slowly realized how emotionally taxing your early encounters were on you and that you were left feeling used and roughed up afterwards. if he still makes you feel that way after he first admits his affection, definitely let him know - he might want to leave physical marks on you that linger for a week or so after, but emotional damage is the last thing he wants marring your relationship

something that resembles quiet devotion lingers in his gaze, the glint of chandeliers flashing as he quickly shakes his head and denies he was ever staring :( sure, you might not be the stereotypical 'hardbody', but you're more worth his time than all of the other whores that his cock stirs for - you're leagues better than the sluts turning tricks and actually deserve a place in his home, his bed, unlike the simple chicks he picks up from clubs. he actually respects you (though, not enough to acknowledge your independence away from him) and his silent approval - pride, even - of your actions sometimes slips through his mask

whenever you're in the room with him, there is an invisible yet tangible tension that tugs you together. the warm, compressing feeling always hones your vision onto patrick - it drowns out all of the noises and movement around you, grounding you in the all-consuming gaze of your lover. his eyes snap to yours whenever you enter the room and he instinctively feels a bulge growing in his slacks, his pupils dilating as his tongue darts out to dampen his lips. no polite conversation or mundane styling drivel is worth his time when you are in his field of view

patrick genuinely feels his blood thunder in his ears whenever the men at the table make snide remarks about your appearance or belittle you. he is absolutely disgusted at their attitudes and lack of understanding - you are his darling and you deserve to be treated as his equal, at a minimum. however, if the table murmurs about how sexy you look, he's more than willing to show you off a bit - he's proud of what's his, obviously! just don't let the boys get too bold with their 'polite' touches or they won't have fingers in the morning :<

he'll buy you a ring. not to propose, oh god no - he doesn't want to do the whole evelyn debacle again. patrick wants to simply state his territory and claim so that others would be less inclined to approach you (plus, it helps that he doesn't have to vividly daydream about it anymore - it saves brain power)

if he rushes home with dirty, damp gloves and a missing button on his overcoat, he'll forever be indebted to you if you pour him a stiff drink and prepare to call jean to postpone all events the next day

your head gets all fuzzy when his tongue drags along the line of your collarbone and his soft lips ghost down your chest - circling your nipple and threatening you with the edge of his teeth makes the edge of his mouth twist into a smirk. if you meet his gaze, his lidded eyes give away how content he is in this position, with you on top of his lap. his lips sheened with spit and your buttoned shirt yanked open make for an arousing sight

patrick is a big fan of smoking his cigars while you sloppily take his cock down your throat - he gets some sadistic pleasure from putting them out on your spit-soaked thighs, the drool hissing under the scorching heat. it's coincidentally also one of his favourite things to reminisce, running his fingers over your thighs while replaying those memories during boring social events. the scent of his expensive smoke, wafting around him in a saloon, has him drifting back to the sight of his hefty cock resting on your face - the length throbbing with every heartbeat, pearls of salty precum seeping into your soft skin and trailing in thin rivulets down the contours of cheekbone

he is a fan of sneaking a dab of his yves saint lauren perfume onto all of your formal wear, a little mark of him and something to keep you company whenever you're out at functions he's not attending

he drags you out to clubs just to dress you up and show you off under the bright, colourful flashing lights. you have his eye the entire time you're feeling yourself on the dance floor, tempting him your sensual movements from across the room - don't expect him to act on it immediately though, he's more than content to hold your gaze and sip his glass from the bar. if some sleaze dares to get handsy with you, he'll step in and guide you towards the bathroom as his fingers glide down to your lower back - he needs a bump to loosen up and not hurt every single chump eyeing you up. you're his plaything, after all.

if you spend a night at patrick's place, he'll secretly love taking showers with you - only because you help him rub in his cleansers and soaps into his skin, no other reason. certainly not that your devoted, admiring gaze make him flush and whisper his timid thanks under the steady stream of water, the noise lost in the pounding around your ears. ignore his building arousal, it'll stay there and grow even harder when he pleasures you with his tongue on the counter of his stainless-steel kitchen. you're the only one he'll kneel for, and you bet that there's a steamed-up outline of your ass on the countertop when he's done :3

despite his incessant need to fit in, he's never going to blend in while you remain by his side. you bring out that rare smile of his and that soft chuckle in public settings. you far outshine all the other, dull plus-ones at the dinner parties

you are patrick's trump card - everyone he knows either wants to be you or fuck you, they'll do anything to impress (especially if there's false hope of ending the night in bed with one or both of you)

if you're confident enough, you could be his personal little pornstar!! it makes you so giddy, the knowledge that he could show the snippets of the videos to his coworkers (who dream about getting you naked) and make them jealous of the fact that you've cum numerous times with patrick's name on your lips. the video is recorded on the best equipment of course - he can't have you on video while looking anything less than godlike on camera

he orders your favourite dishes at every restaurant, combs and brushes out your hair when you arrive at his apartment, then fucks you roughly while whispering how thankful he is for you. his babbling pleas for you to stay and praise of your existence echo in your mind for hours after, especially as he rests next to you with steady breathing

patrick leaves hickeys and bite marks all over you and while he might apologise while handing you anti-bruise supplements, know that his mind's eye is stuck on the sigh of your skin blossoming under his lips - specifically, the feeling of his teething nipping your skin and the small hum of satisfaction as he pulls away to inspect his work. if you've been good lately, he'll let you leave a hickey or mark on his chest - it's only fair after he leaves you bruised and aching in his arms the next morning :( if you've behaved to his liking, he'll share some of his japanese pear and kiwi for breakfast. you need some sugar to recoup anyway

if he's been snappy or pent up all day, he'll guilt you into taking him with minimal prep - he will snap and go feral if he's had to rein it in at work, plus the stretch feels heavenly around his thick cock

patrick had once ordered a prostitute for the two of you to experiment with - making sure they were a fair balance between your ideal types, bodywise. this plan went a little off script after the foreplay when you and patrick ended up exploring your exhibitionist sides, passionately kissing and languidly exploring each other's bodies while the hire slowly touched themselves at the sight. that precious hour or so was the easiest pay that person had ever made (you and patrick were far from unattractive), plus that champagne that you poured out was heavenly

patrick has you suck him off during skincare routines in the morning and evening, making sure to cum all down your throat. he insists it's good protein for you!! kneeling in front of the bathroom countertop has become second nature to you, the divine sight of your rugged lover above you routinely making you feel at ease

you had better be friends with his secretary jean because you'll see her a lot. if she gets jealous and her failed attempts at sleeping with him affect her capabilities, patrick will simply hire a different secretary. sure, he'll love to flaunt you and taunt them about how they aren't fucking either of you, but that's just part of his fun. he might use the empty threat of fucking you in front of the secretary as a way to keep you from acting out, but he's too possessive to have someone in a different tax bracket see you laid bare

get him spa day gift cards!! you can both spend time in private saunas or pools simply enjoying each other's presence and use the time to caress each other's bodies. use the opportunity to get a full body massage - when patrick has had a rough week, you're more than likely going to end up with a couple bruises and a few sore muscles

while he's never been the most domestic man, the image of you flitting back and forth in his pristine kitchen flicks a switch in patrick's brain. your earnest efforts of making him his breakfast bran muffins and churning his apple butter has him daydreaming of keeping you in his apartment like a pet - at his beck and call constantly, dusting his expensive furniture and preparing his meals whenever he comes home... not to mention how you'd willingly bend over or drop to your knees in a heartbeat if he so desired

if patrick is riding an adrenaline (or cocaine) high when he returns to you, be very careful and tread lightly. he may have an itch to clean his axe or handguns, polishing them until the late hours of the night. when he's in a jittery and frantic state, he isn't above having you spread out on his polished floor as something nice to look at while assembling the firearms, and he's certainly not against fucking you roughly while holding the gun to your head or body. he's even aroused by the though of you sucking off his uzi, spit-slicked metal knocking your teeth as your glistening eyes widen in fear

when you sleep next to him, he might jolt awake at night before realizing your shifting movements pose no threat to him, especially when you're locked into his arms with your soft breath brushing against his skin. when he gazes at you in these dimly lit moments, his mask slips until he feels a semblance of happiness - there's no discomfort, jealousy or boredom, he's content with you against him like this. after a long while of his breathing filling the dark room, his mind forces his walls back up and reverts him back to his usual self just as he drifts to sleep. no one can ever see him like that, see what your presence does to him... not even you

he has a penchant for fucking you infront of his toshiba 30-inch television, a porno tape or horror movie often playing. he loves the way screams - either of ecstasy or pain - fill his ears as you moan beneath him, the colours of the screen dancing on your skin. his cock always pulses just that little bit more whenever you bite his thumb and take his dick deep inside you as the film plays in the background. red is suck a sexual and raw colour after all, why not have the bright screen fill your vision as you cum on his cock? the vibrance drowns out all other stimuli, forcing you to focus on his presence in and around you

imagine the shock on evelyn's face when she shows up unannounced at patrick's place one late afternoon- he's swaying to heuy louis and the news, hands on your hips as you giggle and pour him a glass. his silk shirt loosely buttoned just covers your modesty as he soothingly rubs circles on your thigh, soft grin fading as his gaze frosts over at the sight of his betrothed. she sniffs, scandalized at the sight infront of her, and tells patrick to not bother contacting her - tim price's phone will be unplugged the moment she arrives at his place. to be honest, patrick could not care less. you're in his arms and he knows for a fact that evelyn will be over it soon - if not, there's a more suitable marriage candidate right in front of him. if you feel bad or guilty after evelyn leaves, patrick will do his best with his hands, thick cock, tongue and credit card to soothe your worries

expect patrick to leave desperate and vaguely threatening voice mail messages - his heavy, stuttered breaths echoing in your ears as the slick sounds in the background get you more and more worked up. the depraved ramblings deepen and get hoarser with each passing minute, so you'd better pray jean doesn't walk in - she isn't worthy of seeing him in such a disheveled and flushed state

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

luis is the most understanding of patrick's work bunch - he isn't shy to defend you and be seen in public as your friend, once you are comfortable telling him your secret of course. just make sure everyone knows you're not a part of that yale thing and you'll be fine

although he isn't keen on being open about his relationship with you - for fear of his colleagues and fellow acquaintances of wall street making derogatory comments towards him, or worse, you - majority of the men already have some closeted urge to spend the night with you, yearning to take bateman's place in your bed. let's face it, the cocaine, competition and firm handshakes can only do so much to hide the growing homoerotic tensions between the coworkers. your appeal is wider than you realise, as the compliments and lingering gazes at events would have most outsiders questioning if carruthers was the only gay man present in the social circle

in large social gatherings - such as big dinner parties or company events - patrick is able to hide his hand under the table and keep a poker face while unbuttoning your fly, untucking your shirt and slowly palming you for his own amusement. his bragging of designer clothing, company roles and mentions of a nice house he procured - for you to move into, of course - easily distract the other people on the table from what's happening in their vicinity

if his j&b on the rocks isn't hitting the spot or the cigars his colleagues are smoking feel heavy in his lungs, he'll drag you into the men's room - assuming there's no one in the other stalls, of course. his fly is halfway undone by the time your knees and expensive slacks hit the tiles, his hands mussing your slicked back hair. you'd better take his cock down your throat to the best of your abilities - you don't want an audience to witness you choking and spluttering on bateman's length, do you? of course not, they'll ostracize you in a heartbeat (or so patrick says), so you had better not complain or splutter when he pinches your nose shut and shoots hot ropes down your throat

whenever patrick fucks your ass, he ensures that his mark is left on your supple skin for days later - whether it be a handprint-shaped bruise, crescent nail marks or scratches along your thighs, he needs to have you remembering how well he fucks you. as you sit down, adjust your pants or even just accidentally back into something, patrick is suddenly at the forefront of your mind

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afab hcs

patrick buys you the finest jewelry and nicest accessories that money can buy - the deal is that you give him handjobs with the sparkling rings on and kisses with the expensive lipstick, luxurious material framing your figure like a dream. he is especially a fan of you wearing jewels that match your eye colour or makeup - when he lifts your hand to press a polite kiss on your fingers, the glittering in your eyes matching his gifts makes his heart skip a beat

when you cockwarm him, his length is so hefty and makes you feel so stretched - the weight grounds you as you struggle to gain friction against your poor neglected clit. you always feel so full when you're perched on his lap, the girth enough to turn off your brain and make you drool. sometimes when patrick is feeling bold, he prepares your outfit for the day and ensures that you're wearing a cute little skirt for easy access :( he can be selfish sometimes, on the occasion that he solely thinks with his dick

patrick loves pushing your knees up to your chest as he fucks you deeply in missionary - the feeling of your swollen pussy lips brushing against his veiny base and your clit grinding against his pubic bone gets him more worked up than he'll ever admit

it's fairly normal to have patrick's hand drift towards your chest in the back of a taxi, his face buried in the crook of your neck. keep your noises quiet or the driver might be curious about what's happening in the backseat. his cold fingers harshly pinching and tugging at your nipples make you abruptly moan into the brisk air in the back of the car, patrick subtly palming himself to the tortured whines leaving your lips. if you make eye contact with the driver, mouth that you're sorry for patrick's behaviour and try to save your dignity by biting your lip to avoid any loud noises. if they make direct eye contact with patrick first, however, expect him to pull a smug grin and flash your breasts to the angled rear-view mirror. he might even hike up your skirts to show off your soaked, borderline see-through panties. sneak the poor driver a tip on your way out because he nearly caused an accident, losing all brain function as his blood immediately drained from his head and rushed to his cock :<

patrick buys you two little platinum charms with a necklace chain, his initials engraved on the back of the heart shaped pendant. the other little shape is an axe, the edge of the blade set with tiny red garnets!! he is main motivation for having you wear it constantly is the fact that it makes a small clinking noise as you bounce on his cock, breasts swaying and your glimmering skin making the necklace a truly beautiful sight to patrick

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patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his admiring hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

if you're only just getting into wearing masculine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his man and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

you're lucky his designer boxers are easy to clean! every time he catches sight of your muscles tensing, he's undoubtedly leaking into the material. when you're stretching and your shirt rides up, when you grab something from the top shelf or even when you crouch to tie your shoelace - his cock doesn't discriminate so you'd better expect a small, darkening patch. the musk at the end of the day has such a heady rush when you kneel in front of him, his sweaty underwear mere inches from your lips. patrick swears you give his dick a heartbeat whenever you make out with his bulge and especially when you sloppily give him head :3

bateman is a huge fan of quickies with you before meetings with your mutual colleagues - he's booked for lunch after, there's no other time in his schedule to empty his heavy, full balls into you :( his favourite way to spend those precious moments is with you bent over his polished desk, expensive pants crumpled at your ankles and your precum dripping onto the carpet. he is a massive fan of teasing you by pushing his cockhead into your slick boycunt and stroking his cock, edging his length until you're whimpering from the need to be filled. he mocks you for being needy and massages his balls when he finally fills your warm hole with thick, potent ropes of cum. he leaves you unsatisfied and leaking his load for the whole meeting :( splash your face with water and try not to squirm too much in your seat - patrick's classic shit-eating grin might give away the events that transpire mere moments before you both walked into the boardroom

mtf hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

patrick keeps himself well put together and likes to treat you to manicures on shared days out. he'll ask his friend's girls for the best nail salon in the area and insists taking you. after he comes along to pick you up and pay after the set is finished, sometimes he'll immediately take your hands and hum his approval at the colour or design. other times, he'll give you his overcoat and hide your nails until you get in a private area, bathroom or the back of a car - the reveal of your new nails when you slowly stroke his cock, spit slicked hand glistening, makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. your heated gaze and slightly flushed face makes him grin, happy that you're willing to drool on his cock and flaunt his money proudly. the perfect girl, in his opinion :>

if you're only just getting into wearing feminine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his girl and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

patrick's favourite evening activity is fucking you in a mating press - his cock filling you and hitting that deep spot inside you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he loves the sight of your girldick bouncing on your tummy and the shine of your dribbling arousal smearing on your skin. nothing beats a relaxed evening with your tight hole warming his throbbing length

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thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.