#he deserves it and should name it himself

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

LIKE A GOOD GIRL

Pairing - Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

Summary - You're Cillian's assistant and he doesn't take it well when you ask him for some time off to go away with your boyfriend.

Warnings - Dark, stalker themes, obsessive, hand job, p in v, threatening, manipulation, naive.

Word count - 2.8k+

It started off with an unwitting smile on his lips, a new encounter that was able to make him feel more jovial when the intention was to purely oversee your concentrated work performance. A simple yet strict questionnaire which should have taken no more than 30 minutes turned into almost 2 hours of discussions with both of your joys and ambitions in life. Throughout the whole interaction, his blue eyes carefully lingering over your body, admiring the mix of proper and teasing that was your pencil skirt and blouse tucked in your tight fitted blazer. 

Mentally, Cillian hired you on the spot, but he had to make it seem more professional. So he waited until the next day to bear the good news. Shamelessly, he was awake all night replaying your encounter and widely smiled with excitement about how he was to have you as his assistant. 

Denial, complete denial Cillian was in about his obsession with you. You were just his assistant, nothing more but certainly nothing less. Your performance was exceptional, his schedule never overwhelmed him anymore and you created pathways for him to experience the greatest opportunities for his career and overall happiness. 

He dreamt of your curves, soft hair, luscious lips and mesmerizing eyes at night. Moaned out your name in his sleep as he humped the bed in vision of you being beneath him. Everytime he would wake to be hot and bothered, but he always blamed his hormones and lack of intimacy with his busy lifestyle. 

You were kind, innocent, thoughtful, selfless and fucking naive. Images of you bent over the desk, on top of him in the backseat or trapped under him always played in his mind. Sometimes he would find himself lost in your lips, immensely staring at their movements and the mental begging to have them wrapped around his length. 

When you’d ask if he was alright he’d blink back to reality and assure you he was. It always went over your head, you’d always tell him to lay down and rest up. But that was the last thought on his mind, as there were much more sinister things he wished to do, to you specifically.  

It was a consuming job, you knew it before you signed up for it. You’ve had your experiences in this league but never knew the lengths or how tiring and restrictive it could be at times. Cillian had a busy job, he suggested it was best if you always accompanied him (even though a lot of the time you could work from home). So you were always booking the next flight out. But Cillian was a kind boss, he’d always promise a night together each week to help the both of you to unwind. Always in some secluded restaurant or sometimes he’d even cook for you at home. 

Your relationship developed like quicksilver, sometimes you’d be on the phone call until late at night because secretly he just wanted to hear your voice. Working for him showed you how lonely an actor’s life could really be. Never getting a break to catch up with family or friends. You were thinking of organizing some time alone for him to relax, he deserved it. 

Innocent, it was always innocent encounters in his eyes. The line was never crossed by him. He kept his urges locked up, not because of the fear that it would be a public relations nightmare but because he feared he would eat you whole if he let himself have a taste of you. 

Sometimes Cillian would ask you to do the most bizarre tasks just to remind himself how dedicated you were to him. It was nice to remember how much control he really had over you. His heart would swoon whenever you’d surprise him on set with the food he was craving the night before, simultaneously to his cock twitching in his pants. Every time he’d have to rush off to the bathroom to jerk off his primitive urges to devour you right there in front of everyone.

It was almost midnight, and here you were, helping Cillian turn the house upside down for his passport. He had misplaced it and felt overwhelmed with not being able to find it before your flight tomorrow.  

The pair of you had checked all rooms of the house, you suggested backtracking his steps but it wasn’t much help. When you were in the kitchen, he slipped his passport out of his jacket pocket, a small smile on his lips. 

“Found it!” Cillian called out, smiling like a deviant teenager. 

Shortly after, your footsteps were heard as you approached his study. “Where was it?” You asked as your head poked around the corner, a relieved expression settling in. 

“Underneath my script” he lied perfectly. 

“Oh” you murmured, eyebrows scrunching slightly. You could have sworn you checked there. 

Cillian raised his watch to his eyesight and lightly gasped. “Gosh, it’s so late darling. I didn’t even realize the time” he apologized. You waved your hand to him in a dismissive manner. 

“Oh, don’t stress about it. It’s all a part of the job” you reassured as you softly rubbed your arms, your tired eyes blinking heavily. 

Cillian smiled at you and took a step closer to you. “Did you want to stay the night? I feel so guilty having you drive out here. You can keep your car here and we’ll swing by yours for your luggage” Cillian offered, completely painted with innocence and kindness.

“Oh, no it’s alri-”

“I insist” he flashed a wide smile, his tone trickling of demand rather than hospitality.  

“Okay, sure” you nodded your head in complete agreement. Completely oblivious to the true colors of his offering. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve stayed over. A couple of times you had too much wine and passed out in his guest bedroom, completely unaware of his lingering dark eyes that stood by the door for hours. He wanted to touch you, he truly did, but was too afraid he’d never be able to stop. So he resulted in pumping his shaft in his trousers, biting his tongue harshly to hold back his moans. 

“I was actually wondering if I could ask you a question” you smiled softly. 

Cillian hummed and gestured for you to continue on and you did. Immediately, Cillian’s stomach was hollowed out. All over a simple, innocent question on your behalf. But, he felt like you had betrayed him, committed treason over your relationship. His body went stiff, blood boiled as teeth almost cracked from how harshly he clenched his jaw. 

Time felt like it went still, as all of these negative emotions fireballed in his mind. 

“So?” You asked, your eyebrow cocked up and sweet smile locked on. 

“Sorry, what was that again sweetheart?” Cillian asked blankly, trying to hide his true thoughts, wanting to pretend that he didn’t know what you just asked in desperate hopes you could read him. Mentally demanding that you correct your mistake but you were still just as naive from the moment he met you. 

“Am I able to have some time off? It’ll be three days max. Samuel really wants to take me away on a surprise getaway, he’s been going on about it for months”

How long have you even had a boyfriend? Cillian never asked, the idea of it was too aggravating for his ego. But you never even mentioned him to Cillian. He thought you guys were closer than that, no he knew you were, how could you hide this from him? 

“Who’s Samuel?” Cillian frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Oh! My boyfriend! He admires your work and would love to meet you one day, I think I may have hyped you up too much… But he’s a playwright” you explained yourself in a cheerful manner, almost giggling. 

There was a silence which quickly turned awkward when you noticed his eyes twitch. You cleared your throat and looked away from him slightly as you rubbed your arm anxiously. Cillian took a large step towards you and threw his passport carelessly onto his desk. 

“I don’t think I can approve of your leave” Cillian answered, emotionlessly. 

Perplexity filled your thoughts as the tension quickly brewed in the study. You had to clear your throat once more and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck. 

“Oh, really? Um, can I ask why?” You asked, your voice cracking slightly as he took another step towards you. 

“It just doesn’t sit right with me” he spoke in a low tone. 

“Pardon?” Your eyebrows scrunched at him. 

“I don’t like the idea of not knowing how safe you are, you’re better in my care” he answered simply, shrugging his shoulders lightly. 

You snorted at him and shook your head. It all made sense now, he was just feeling a little too overprotective over you. It made sense, the pair of you had spent so much time together these past few months, you cared for him too. Cillian stood directly ahead of you, looking down to you with a tilted head.

“Cillian, I appreciate the thoughtfulness but I’m a grown adult” you reassured, your hand touched his bicep and he grunted. 

Cillian considered his next argument, nodding to himself when he decided he would say it. “Well maybe I also don’t like the thought of him fucking you” he continued on. 

You hand shot back from his arm and you took a step back, your expression flashed with horror as you stuttered. 

“Sorry?” You whimpered, stepping back every time he took a step closer to you. 

“Why would I allow you to go away to get fucked? Whilst I’m confined here, all alone with nothing but my hand” Cillian frowned, tilting his head further to the left as he quickly moved towards you and blocked the doorway. 

Your footsteps swung around as you found yourself stepping backwards to the desk. 

“Where is this coming from?” you gasped, your hands planted on the wooden edge. 

“Do you know what you do to me?” Cillian asked blankly, his eyes boring into your skull. 

There was no answer from you, so he closed the distance, he gripped harshly onto your wrist and brought your hand to his crotch. A heavy cry escaped your mouth at the stiffness in his jeans. Cillian’s eyes rolled back as he moaned out, his hips flexing forward. 

“Can you feel that?” Cillian moaned, slowly rubbing your hand over the tent in his pants. 

“Cillian” you whined, paralyzed in fear. 

“That’s what you fucking do to me” he grunted, pressing your hand firmly over his erection. 

“M’sorry” you whined pathetically, eyes swollen red with tears as your body trembled. 

Cillian rubbed your heated cheek with his free hand and pouted to you. He tsked at you as he patted your cheek in unison to his sounds, his dark stare frightening. 

“Don’t be sorry… But you have to fix it, okay?” He ordered softly, sweetly. 

“What do you-” you blubbered, knowing what he did imply. 

“Touch my cock baby” he smiled innocently. 

“N-no” you shook your head.

His hand swiftly wrapped around your neck as he pressed you against the desk, you cried out in pain and fear and Cillian grinned at you. The hold around your throat warned you to obey him. 

“You’ll do as I fucking tell you” Cillian growled, his grip tightened as his teeth flared at you. You nodded your head quickly and he released your throat. 

His hands gripped onto both sides of your face, his breath fanned over your mouth as his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“Does he fuck you good?”

“Cill-”

He repeated his words slowly, each one dripping with jealousy and anger. You sniveled under him as he breathed slowly, waiting for your answer as he gently humped his hips against yours. 

“Uh! I don't know” you stammered out. The overwhelming clouds stormed over your thoughts.

“Naughty girl… I thought I made it clear you were mine” he tsked at you. 

His hands fell to your waist, his thumbs rolled circles as he lifted you onto the desk. Spreading your trembling thighs, your skirt raised and his slender digits slid down to your core. 

“Cillian please!” You cried out. But you were too fearful of the outcome of trying to push him off of you. 

“I am your boss, you’ll address me as sir” he demanded, his forehead pressed against yours. 

“S-sir please stop. I’m sorry” you begged as his fingers toyed over your covered pussy. 

“Why did you never tell me huh? Little fucking whore” he spat at you. 

One hand pulled your panties to the side as the other rolled over your wet folds. Biting back your moan, your tears flooded down your flustered cheeks and Cillian grinned at you darkly. 

“Never thought of me at night? Never thought of us?” Cillian taunted, a digit pushing itself into your tight canal.

Shamefully you did, but he was your boss and he was so much older than you. It felt so wrong every time your fingers found its way into your panties when you were all alone in bed. 

“Sir please” you moaned out, your eyes rolled back slightly as you sniffled to him. 

“I think you liked the idea of being mine, but were just too subconscious, am I right?” Cillian cocked an eyebrow to you as he slipped another finger inside of you. 

Your head nodded rapidly as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapped around his back whilst you cried against him. Cillian hummed, gradually picking up the speed inside of you as your moans were muffled and the shaking hold tried to still itself. 

“You’re going to touch my cock, alright? Then I’m gonna fuck you. After that, if you’re a good girl, I’ll eat you out. Maybe before our flight you can suck my cock, eh?” Cillian grinned as he slipped his fingers out of you. 

There was no reply from you as he quickly pushed his pants and underneath to his knees. You were too afraid to look down, but you could feel him stroking his size against your inner thigh. Cillian kissed your ear then nuzzled his nose against your hair. 

Shakingly, one of your hands let go of his back and reached for his length. You squeaked when you felt his firm shaft that dripped of precum. If you didn’t want to look before, you certainly didn’t know, he felt massive, your hand could hardly wrap around the girth. 

“You’re okay sweetheart, just breathe” Cillian coached you as you slowly ran your hand up and down his length. 

Cillian moaned out as you took his advice and focused on your breathing. Blinking back your tears, your thumb rolled circles around his moist tip. As he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his hips jerked forward, his arms holding your body possessively. 

Roughly, he moved you back up further on the table and took his cock back into his hand. Cillian guided your legs around his waist as he ripped your panties in half. You cried out, your arms wrapped around his neck in fear as he lined his cock to your gushing entrance. 

“Need to fuck you” he whined out. 

There was no moment of preparation, he forcefully pressed himself inside of you. Completely bruised himself between your clenching walls after a few thrusts. You cried out, your fingernails unintentionally dug into the skin around the back of his neck. 

“Fuck!” Cillian hissed out. 

Despite how badly he wanted to rest inside of you, his animalistic urges took over his thoughts. At high speed, his thrusts painfully stretched your cunt as you moaned out, panting for a steady breath. Cillian kissed your neck, then bit your neck. His teeth dug into your skin as he desperately wanted to mark you as his. 

“Shit baby, I want to stay buried inside of you forever” Cillian whimpered as his thrusts quickly turned runny. 

Your teeth flared as you tried to blink back your tears. The pressure against your core was growing rapidly as he hit your bundle of nerves repetitively without even trying. Cillian cried out everytime your walls squeezed his cock. 

“Fuck it, gonna fuck you all night. Can’t believe I tried to deny this, deny us. You’re mine, all fucking mine. Ever speak of that fucker’s name again, let alone talk to him, then I’ll ruin you darling. You’ll take care of me during the day and at night, won’t you baby?” Cillian asked, pulling your head back to look at him. 

There was no other choice in the matter, you nodded your head to him as you felt your climax climb to the edge, you’d do as your boss told you to do, like the good little girl the both of you knew you were. 

[rosequarzo]

i hope u don’t mind squeezing this lil request in ur inbox ˖  ݁ . ࿓ how abt aventurine coming home from work & clinging onto u like a koala ?? i imagine him being so clingy & tired after work — so he just wants to cuddle w u :< take ur time if you’ll be writing this !! tysm ❤︎

koala cling.

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! aventurine + reader reader is gender-neutral established relationship domestic fluff tooth-rotting fluff one pet name used usage of aventurine's real name ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 580 — catalogue

note. hi bambi!! hopefully you're doing well and of course i don't mind your request <3 this was really cute to write so i hope you enjoy it^^ stay safe xoxo

Whenever people hear the name Aventurine, their first thought of him was that he was an arrogant man, part of the IPC and part of their management too. He appears charismatic, egoistic and someone who loves to take risks. His motto “High risks comes with high rewards” is something he holds close to his heart.

It is also a common sight to spot him spending time in casinos, gambling to his heart’s content and as always, emerging as the rightful winner. But in the comfort and privacy of your shared home, he sheds his facade, tossing them to the side like a snake undergoing shedding. 

When it’s only you and him, he is nothing more than Kakavasha. What Kakavasha yearns for is peace and quiet as he savors your presence that has become a huge part of his life. No one is able to witness this side of him. No one except you. 

“I’m home,” your ears picked up the familiar sound of Aventurine followed by a pair of approaching slow and heavy footsteps.

You weren’t granted enough time to turn when he hugged you from behind, arms easily wrapping themselves around your waist. Aventurine rested his chin on your left shoulder, observing you as you efficiently sliced the vegetables into thin slices. Goosebumps formed on your skin when he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck and you were certain he was aware of the effect he had. 

“How was work today?” You asked, breaking the silence. 

You heard a dramatic sigh before he replied in a whiny tone; a tone that never fails to make you smile. “I had to go and chase people for their late payments, followed by countless meetings and Ratio was being mean to me! Seriously, he should learn to relax once in a while and join me to get a drink.” 

The thought of the stiff and rigid doctor acting drunk made you sniggered. You had to waddle over to the stove to cook as Aventurine was showing no signs of letting you go; not that you mind.

“Well, you know how he is. Did you encounter any difficulties today?” 

Aventurine buried his head in the crook of your neck, his words slightly muffled.

“Nope, everything was smooth sailing for me. But, I miss you.” His last three words sounded akin to a whine and it made you laugh. 

“You know you have to go to work, Kakavasha. At least you can still come home to me,” you answered, jumping when he playfully poked your sides. His action elicited a light-hearted glare thrown his way but he merely grins, leaning in to kiss you on the corner of your lips. 

“You’re right, now how about you stop whatever you’re doing and cuddle with me, please?” He pleads, going all puppy eyes and even pouting as a further measure. 

And who were you to say no?

You nodded, smiling when he made a noise of happiness and allowed yourself to be eagerly dragged to the couch in the living room. You laid down, opening your arms and Aventurine wasted no time in making himself comfortable above you. You wrapped your arms around him, acting like a shield to protect him from the world and gently brushed your hand through his hair. 

“Rest, my dear Kakavasha. You deserved it,” you whispered, seeing a faint smile formed on his face as he slowly escapes to the land of dreams, with you following shortly after. 

[forsworned]

CASUAL ft. FWB!JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

Warnings: Sexual Content, AFAB!Reader, FWB, Angst to Comfort

Author's note: Because Soap brainrot, that's all

Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out Is it casual now?

The death grip you have on his mohawk as he sloppily eats you out with such vigor is making your legs shake so hard as you climax for the third time in the backseat of his truck. A gentle slap and a tender kiss to your clit after he's done supping you up and then he's adjusting himself in his trousers to make himself a little more comfortable under the restricting material.

"I gotta go now." He breathes, rubbing your bare thigh and you shiver at his touch. He always had to go. And honestly you could feel your heart dropping to your stomach as he flashes you that casual, boyish grin.

You only nod as you recollect yourselves and climb back to the front seats. Your heart on your sleeve as he pulls at your place and you're turning to him with a bashful smile. His baby blue are distant but he gives you a warm, good-natured grin as he rubs your thigh.

"Good seein' ya, lassie." He points his chin to the door as a gesture for you to hit the road in the most "polite" way possible.

You were no stranger to Johnny's detached ways. He was an avoidant at best when got his and he was sending you on your way to do whatever it is that you do before he hits you up again with a, "You up?" text.

Ugh.

"Dude, you deserve better." Your friend shakes her head at you as she pinches at a fry and pops it into her mouth.

"Honestly, he's a fucking asshole. He should be on his knees asking to be your man, not just the backseat of his truck." Your other friend chides, but it's lost on you. Their voices drown out as you peer over at your buzzing phone.

"You free tonite, lassie?"

"Don't" They quip at the same time, but it's tossed to the backlogs of your mind when you rush home after your hang out.

He's already there leaning against your doorway, swinging his car keys between his fingers as he lustfully gazes down at you. And in no time he's jovially, hungrily taking your face between his stout, calloused hands and kissing you passionately, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he grinds into you. And you can't take it anymore, you want him. You want him so fucking bad and you didn't care if it was casual. Or whatever bullshit, avoidant bullshit he was feeding you.

You wanted him, craved him. You waste no time pulling aside your panties as he merely unzips his jeans to free his hard, girthy cock and presses it between your succulent, dripping folds, and his thick brows are furrowed together in euphoria. He casts a small glance down at you to make sure you're all right as he pushes himself deeper into you. It's a pleasant burn as he stretches you out, and you welcome it because fuck, it feels so fucking good when he's filling you up, but when he's done emptying himself out you're hollow once again as he's zipping his jeans back up.

He adjusts his brown leather jacket and gives you a wink and kiss to the cheek before he's on his way out.

And you almost feel like crying when he's gone. Just the remnants of his cologne and splooge still left on your linen sheets.

Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now?

And then you're at the grocery store, picking out what bouquet would be the prettiest as your centerpiece, and feel a pair of arms wrap around you, a steady kiss to the cheek, and a rumbling Scottish accent in your ear, "Hey, sexy."

You visibly melt at his touch and he loves the way you're wrapped around his finger. Addicted to how pliant you are for him in every conceivable way.

"Ey, Johnny, ye gonna introduce me?"

And you both freeze at the voice. An awkward laugh escapes his chest as he's moving away from you and see a woman who adorns strikingly similar features to him.

"Ma, this is..."

"[name]." You smile that glorious smile of yours and for a second it's got Johnny kinda dazed. He's blinking out of his stupor, but something about the way you shake his moms hand and so effortlessly talk to her stirs something in him. A side he's never bothered to explore because he was waaaay too busy exploring your insides.

"Ye should come t' our house in Long Beach. We're havin' a wee, friendly get-together. Bring a pal, even." Her accent is thicker and even less coherent to your ears than Johnny's is so it takes you a second to decode what she's saying. And suddenly your face lights up and--uh, oh, Johnny's in trouble now.

Because she's smacking him across the head with her rolled-up wad of weekly ads that she picked up from the market and scolding him for not telling her about you.

"Aye, Johnny, I knew what ye're up to. She's a braw lassie. Get yerself sorted!" She spews as he opens the passenger seat door for her, rubbing the back of his head. You almost feel bad for him as you watch him get reprimanded by his mother from your car. But it's almost a little too embarrassing that you could tell what the conversation was about.

And he's trying his best not to be a dickhead when you do actually show up at the party, but you're lighting the room up with every step as you're being engaged and thrown into a cacophony of banter and laughter. And you're actually so fucking funny? Like, really funny, like he's keeling over and clutching his stomach funny and it's not just because of the persistent buzz of his ale.

You're witty and sexy and downright fucking gorgeous, especially when the sea breeze picks up and sends your hair back a little and it's like a slo-mo in those romcoms Johnny was forced by his mother to watch when he was growing up. And how could he forget about how gentle you were when you're speaking to the wee ones. Weaving wildflower crowns and plaiting hair as you coo at them so maternally. And the cheeky little grins you would have on your face as you whisper little nonsensicals to them, and melodious giggles that follow.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck.

Is it casual now? I know what you tell your friends

But then you're heaving after your second orgasm, he's still pounding away at you and there's a different look in his eyes as he bends down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He's overstimulating your clit and telling you what a sweet girl you are for him and that sends you over the edge and he's pulling out to cum all over your belly in hot white spurts.

Another kiss to your forehead before he gets up to what you think is him getting a towel to clean you up but he's lifting you over his shoulder in one swift movement and you're giggling all the way over to the shower. And then there's another round of deep, thrusting into your a-spot against the cold shower tiles until you're rolling your eyes back and begging for him to let you cum.

And that release is something else and he's smiling at you with his teeth latched between his lips, soaked dark lashes that frame his pretty cerulean blue eyes that send you into a trance. Honestly, heart eyes motherfucker because that's exactly how you would describe yourself in that moment as you gaze at him. He's just too damn pretty for words.

And how gentle he is when he's helping you clean off, but his presence is stripped too quickly for your liking. He's toweling himself down and grabbing his boxers as he puts his clothes back on, and you can only stand there studying him from the shower. He's leaving again and your heart was sinking.

But then you're hearing his voice, and you peep you head out just a bit to catch the conversation.

"Girlfriend?" He laughs, "not even close, mate."

And you could almost just disappear down the drain. You felt humiliated as you swamp out the rest of the exchange under the din of the hot water hitting your eardrums.

"She's mare like wifey material." He chuckles, thumbing through his camera roll in the little album he's titled, "Bonnie <3".

It's pictures he's collected over the past year of the both of you, some candid, (a lot) some in bed, and a ton from the night at the beach house. You were truly so beautiful and Johnny was getting caught up in you and he was no longer fighting it.

And I try to be the chill girl That holds her tongue and gives you space

But you're getting fed up when you're in the middle of movie night and Johnny decides it's the best idea to watch Good Will Hunting. And it's the scene where Will and Skylar are breaking up and it's tearing you up inside when you see Johnny get a bit misty-eyed. You can't help yourself. You reach for the remote and pause it before, turning to him with anger and frustration in your eyes. And he's reaching out for you to calm you down with a flummoxed gaze, but you're refusing his touch and comfort.

And Johnny is sent home with his tail between his legs, speeding down the highway as he blasts Johnny Cash and attempts to suppress the earlier occurrence. It's unpleasant. The feeling that's settling into his chest and it feels tight.

He pumps the brakes. Hard.

And he's reversing in the middle of an intersection, cars are honking, people yapping at him but it's white noise as he's racing back to your place.

And with his heart in his hand, he's thumping urgently at your door and it feels like a millennia before you're opening it.

Tear-stained blood-shot eyes, disheveled hair in his Scotland flag embroidered hoodie he misplaced a month ago. He stares at your sniffling, crumpled form. Oh, how could he have done this to such a beautiful woman?

"I was lookin everywhere fer that hoodie." He says softly. His eyes are glossy as he blinks down at you, half smile and all.

You peer at the hoodie and then up at him. "What do you want? The hoodie? Here."

You begin to take it off but he's shaking his head and pulling it back down especially when he realizes you have nothing on underneath and he would be baring you out to the world. He heaves himself inside and you're scrambling against his arms, trying to push him out but of course, Johnny outsizes you by way too much to even make him move. He's holding you by the waist, leaning his forehead against yours as he dabs at the tears in the corner of your eyes.

"Y're so beautiful, [name]." He murmurs.

You're watery eyes, ream at his words. He had never said that to you before and your heartstrings are being pulled in every direction.

"What...?"

He kisses your cheek so tenderly and you feel like your ascending, "I said, y're beautiful, [name]. 'n' I wish I told ye that earlier."

You gaze down at his shoes not wanting to meet his eyes but he lifts your chin and meets your lips with the softest kiss he's ever bestowed upon you. It was so chaste yet so ardent and it made your heart skip a beat.

"I don't understand." Your thoughts are racing at this point and he can see it in your eyes. How absolutely head over heels you are for him and he was too much of a dickhead to really acknowledge it, how utterly striking you were, how perfectly imperfect you were. Going out of your way for him and fuck, he did not deserve it. Not then and maybe not even now, but realizing what a catch he has in his literal palms, he doesn't want to let go. And he will do anything to make up for it.

"'m sorry, hen. Never should have treated like ye were rubbish. Ye should be cherished 'n' protected." He brushes the hair out of your face and it is a painful revelation standing there in front of you with his heart on display and he's wondering how you were so brave to be doing it baring it out for him every time. And still, he would reject it like the bastard he was. Refusing to let you in when all you wanted was to be preserved, served, and loved.

"Johnny, I--" You croak out, tears cascading down your cheeks and you're looking back down at the ground, but he gently cups your cheeks.

"No, I love you, [name]. An' if ye let me, 'll do everythin' an' anythin' to make it up to ye. Ye were always there f'r me, an' it's about time I return it."

He shakes his head, wiping away his eyes. "Damn, 'm pure shite at this, but I hope ye can forgive me."

But as warm as your heart was, you have to stand firm. Johnny had hurt you in so many ways so, it wasn't going to be easy for you to just say yes. "You really hurt me, Johnny..."

"I know, I know, but 'm a man of action an' 'll do anythin'." He's pleading and to say that it isn't satisfying as fuck to see this beautiful, brawny man that you've been fucking for the past year groveling for you, was simply a lie.

"Ye gettin' off to this?" A smile graces his lips and you try to hold back, but you can't help but smile back at him.

Everything is so infectious about Johnny and it kills you.

"Fuck you." You breathe out, running a hand through your hair.

And he can't help but attack you with kisses and lift you up before crushing you under his weight as he lays you out on your mattress. Giggling like a maniac you remember to compose yourself even if it felt like the surface was breaching. There's a pause and you're both gazing into each other's eyes as you intertwine fingers, and Johnny is kissing you again, but it's different. It's really full of love and admiration.

He sighs in content for a moment before withdrawing and peers down at you. "S'what d'ya say? Gimme a chance?"

You cock a brow and smile at him. "You really are in no position to ask me."

"But..." "I'll sleep on it."

He's beaming at you now and you're totally getting flustered under his gaze. He wasn't going to let you slip away this go around.

"Deal."

[cheeseceli]

Princess treatment

Pairing: Song Mingi × fem!reader

Genre: fluff, headcanons, a bit of angst here and there

Prompt: "she's a lady, and I'm just a boy"

Warnings: mingi is a bit insecure for a bit, brief mentions of eating, not proofread

A/n: I think this is good but then again I haven't properly slept in four days so who knows | join the 1k event!

‌Mingi who've always loved you way more than anyone could comprehend

‌The way he was actually devoted to you was incredible

‌You were in his mind 24/7, he always found ways to go back to you no matter what

‌However, he never saw himself as worthy of your attention

‌Or your love

‌He said it a few times, he believed you were royalty and deserved to be treated as one

‌And at the same time he saw himself as just a boy

‌He didn't know how he could possibly love you right

‌But one thing was right, the man was NOT giving up on you

‌Did you deserve the whole world? He'd give it to you somehow

‌Did you deserve an angel disguised as a man? He was about to become one

‌So that's how it all started

‌Your friends would often say you received the "princess treatment" before even having a boyfriend, and that couldn't be more true

‌Mingi would always make sure you ate and rested well. If you didn't, he would be quick to cook (or preferably buy some food) for you or convince you to rest a bit

‌He would constantly buy you things. Be it big gifts for your birthday, silly things he saw on tour that reminded of you or things he saw you saved in your wishlist

‌He would always make sure to see you even on the busiest of weeks

‌Ateez is about to go perform on Coachella but of course he is right on backstage, face calling your number so he could see you before you went to sleep

‌God, if you want him to carry you in his arms for the rest of his life so you can rest, he will

‌And he's always so proud of it, proud of you

‌It doesn't matter if his friends constantly make fun of him for being so lovesick, he couldn't care less

‌He's always like "yeah only the best for yn! :D"

‌And he will NOT hesitate on letting other people know about you

‌Always talking about you, everyone who talked with him at least once already heard your name somehow

‌He's also very surprised whenever someone else tries to flirt with him because like??

‌He thought it was obvious that he was your man (even if you aren't around and you two are not dating, it should be obvious!)

‌So he always rejects someone's initiative because he would rather wait for you

‌But even after all of that, he's still a bit insecure

‌Always wondering if he's doing enough, if he's loving you correctly

‌But then he makes you smile and he thinks you're both will be alright

Masterlist | you'll probably like: boyfriend San

Thank you for reading 🤍

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans

Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3

Dividers by @enchanthings

[dostoyevsky-official]

Letter from Professor James Schamus

As Columbia survivors of last fall’s International Day of Jihad (sic), a not-surprisingly quite effective disinformation campaign, we still shouldn’t dismiss credible accounts of genuinely anti-semitic incidents on the rise, here and elsewhere. They deserve condemnation – as does the manufactured hysteria around them, weaponized in the movement to quell legitimate political speech on campus and elsewhere, mainly through the conflation of criticism of Israel with anti-semitism itself.  Let’s start with Rav Elie Beuchler, described in much of the recent massive press coverage of the terrors awaiting us Jews at Columbia as the “Columbia Rabbi” who sent an email to a few hundred students yesterday telling them to go home “as soon as possible” in fear for their lives and safety. One thing Beuchler is not, in fact, is the Columbia/Barnard Hillel campus rabbi; rather he is on the staff of the Orthodox Union-Jewish Institute for Leaning on Campus, run as a wing of the Orthodox Union.  To get a sense of the political mission of the OU-JILC, consider its Founding Director, Menachem Schrader, whose biography on the organization’s website attests he “has been community rabbi of Moshav Carmel in the Judean Hills and of Congregation Tiferet Avot in Efrat.” Carmel and Efrat are – and you can probably guess where this is going –  illegal Israeli settlements located in the Occupied West Bank, centers of the Amana movement, the radical settlement arm of the violent, racist Gush Emunim. Amana was founded and led for decades by Ze’ev Hever, a Jewish supremacist terrorist who spent 11 months in jail for a Jewish Underground bombing plot before becoming a major establishment figure in the settlement movement. (Ironically, after his own car was vandalized in a violent “Price Tag” settler vigilante action in 2012, Hever himself, at least publicly, called for a reduction in settler rampages – one needn’t wonder whether his fanatical acolytes heeded that call.) The OU-JILC actually brands itself as the “Heshe and Harriet Sief OU-JILC,” named, one assumes, after its major benefactors. Heshe and Harriet Sief, who are also major donors to Yeshivat Har-Etzion , which is located – you guessed it – in the Etzion bloc of settlements. It should be noted that funding for the Initiative, as with the Union itself, is opaque – the Union itself, given its prominent political activities, has been decried in Jewish philanthropy circles for its lack of transparency).   The Initiative has planted itself on thirty or so campuses in the United States, and has been welcomed into spaces controlled by International Hillel, which has become increasingly reactionary in its policing of Jewish students’ speech around Israel and Palestine.  That policing now threatens to engulf the University as a whole. Action based on genuine concern for the well-being and safety of our Jewish students and colleagues should be founded on the defense of the very principles and norms being assaulted by those hijacking that concern to give cover to the larger project of ethnic cleansing and settlement in the West Bank and, now, of course, Gaza.

a letter on the rabbi who said campus isn't safe and jewish students should stay home. yet again it should be noted that some of the students leading the protests are antizionist jews, and that columbia suspended the student jewish voices for peace organization several months ago, for which they are facing an ACLU lawsuit

[delulustateofmind]

Married to the Lord of Bloodshed (One-shot)

A/N: OMG! Thank you all for so much love on the Azriel one. I am literally SHOCKED. This one is for Cassian, made for fun because he reminds me so much of my husband. This one and the Azriel one are somewhat based on true stories!

**fair warning: it is unedited, like a rough draft like the last one as I am working on both the series as well. Just had a lot of fun with it!**

Summary: collections of being married to Cassian! Married for fifty years :) 

Word count: 1.6k

triggers: Mentions of intimacy, lots of pet names-like LOTS, that's about it!

***

You, an unlikely match, found yourself married to the formidable Illyrian warrior, Cassian, general of the Night Court. Fifty years of a beautiful marriage under your belt. Meeting at a party that somehow left you both discovering you were mates. Cassian was a completely different male when he was around you compared to how he was at the Illyrian camps. 

Among your cherished moments together…

After a long day working as a healer for the court, your muscles tense. Cassian would very much enjoy rubbing out your sore muscles. You knew he did this to lead to other things.

As you would lay on the bed, flat on your back. Cassian lifts one of your legs to rest on his shoulder as he rubs your calf. With a mischievous smirk, he murmured, “Baby let me take care of you.” The feeling of his rough calloused hands rubbing out your sore muscles from standing all day. You couldn’t help but laugh, attempting to retract your leg from the ticklish sensation.

“Baby, that tickles,” Cassian smirks in response as he applies more pressure. “You think this tickles, I haven’t even started yet” he murmurs as he presses a thumb to your tight calf muscle as he rubs a knot out and notices your reaction as you cover your face. 

“How are your muscles looking? Still sore? Maybe you should take off a few days, you’ve been working really hard. I could stay with you and keep you company.” his gaze meets yours as his hand seems to have traveled to your thigh. 

“Well I’ve been going to this new workout studio before work in the mornings, it’s this new workout called pilates” a soft laugh escaping your lips as he reaches a more tense area in your thigh. His smirk fades a little as he looks at you. 

“You’ve been going to the gym before work? Baby, you work like hours on end. Are you trying to run that body of yours to the ground? It’s beautiful and deserves to be cared for” Cassian states as he leans closer to you pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I never complained about you working so much, but sometimes you worry me. Try to take it easy okay? Maybe we can have a relaxing weekend together, just us, maybe go to the river?” He smiles down at you as he pulls you closer to himself. You knew where this was leading, as soon as his hands moved across your thigh and onto your hips to pull you flush against him as he kissed your lips. “How about I make you feel good tonight, hm? I’ll be gentle” He smirks with a kiss.

***

However, one thing that really was a bummer was being married to a super health-conscious Illyrian. Going to the market was a challenge. Sure you enjoyed that your mate looked out for you. Picking the best fruits and vegetables to cook healthy delicious meals with. 

But sometimes a girl just wants two different types of cake and maybe some cookies. Your monthly was probably starting soon but the sugar cravings were at an all-time high. Yes, Cassian would obviously let you pick up one. Not two, no no, just one. He said too many sweets would burn you out…I mean he was right, but it still sucked to admit it. 

“Mamas, just pick one” Cassian chuckled as he carried the bags of food. Looking at you with a smile as you stood there for the past twenty minutes. Carefully. Picking out the one sweet treat you were allowed for the week. 

You pleaded to him as if you were begging for your life. “My love, it’s so hard, can’t we get the fancy cake and the cheesecake?” You shot him a look that even a puppy would fall for, almost begging for your mate to indulge in your cravings. Pointing at the beautifully decorated chocolate cake that sat right next to its best friend, the cheesecake with the pretty little strawberries sitting on top that just went into season. “I mean look they’re best friends, baby? It’s like you and Azriel, we can’t just break them up”

Cassian smirked looking at you, trying to put up a ‘no’ look for you but the male was weak. You knew he couldn’t say no to your cute pleading face. So the moment you looked up at him, he rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But only this, one time.” He teased with mock sternness, his voice low and playful “Only, because you brought up a compelling argument” 

“I have never loved you more than I have in this very moment, Pookie” You gave him a big smile as you motioned the baker over to box up both the chocolate cake and the cheesecake. 

Cassian was just going to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t say no to his wife’s charms. He looked at you and chuckled, not saying anything as you walked out of the store. Grabbing the bag from you and following you. Though he did make sure to give your ass a tiny pinch on the way out.

“Pookie? I swear you’re going to be the death of me some days, I have a reputation to uphold, you know!” he teased as he walked with you. You both had to pick up a few more items before heading home for the day…

***

Mornings were never your thing you despised mornings. You always opted for the afternoon or night shift when you had to work. Cassian on the other hand was a ray of sunshine in the mornings. Though, he never cared that you didn’t work out with him. Your mate just cared that you would at least move around a bit, whether that was doing yoga with Feyre or taking dance lessons over at the Rainbow. He trained you in self-defense when you first started dating. His wife needed to be able to protect herself at least. 

You unfortunately had the morning shift today. A grumpy walk on the way home, you could winnow home. But, you needed the walk to cool yourself down. A walk down the streets of Velaris led you to a new studio that had just opened with the word  ‘Zumba’ written on the glass.  You peeked in to find music flowing out and a bunch of what seemed like moms dancing. 

Sounds like a good time! 

There were two open spots for tonight. You signed both your and Cassian’s names onto the sign-up sheet. Though you hadn’t asked him yet, you were sure you could be convincing enough. 

Entering his office, you found Cassian engrossed in paperwork for the Illyrian camps. “Baby, my love, my sweet honey bear, snookums” you whispered in his ear as you leaned over his shoulder. Carefully not pressing weight down on his wings. 

A soft hum escaped his lips as he reached for your hand. Pressing a small kiss on your palm as he kept reading a document for supplies. “What is it my love” he murmured clearly not paying attention to you. 

“There’s this class going on tonight and I would really love you if you would join me,” you kissed his ear and then his neck. “Pretty please”

“Mm, what sort of class?” He hummed. Although Cassian would agree to anything for you, he couldn’t help but find your sweetness after work unusual, yet endearing. Usually, you were a snapping turtle, especially once you discover soon that he ate the last piece of cake while you were at work. 

“It’s like a workout class with live music, seems fun right? Please baby…pretty please my big strong Illyrian male that I love so much” you whined as you kissed his neck with peppered kisses. Use your other hand to rub his chest. 

“Yeah, we can go, let me get ready then” just the confirmation you needed. You pulled away from him and with a happy smile, just about to leave him to his paperwork. Before you knew it, Cassian had swept you off your feet, a playful gesture that spoke of what was to come when he carried you over his shoulder to your shared bedroom. 

****

Stepping into the ‘Zumba’ studio, Cassian realized that facing war and bloodshed paled in comparison to the challenge of dancing with a group of determined mothers on a Tuesday night. These females seemed as if they were ready for war. Strapped with their sweatbands and their workout clothes. Cassian was definitely out of place, a few of the fae women gave him curious glances as he stood in the back. The mirrors clearly show him towering over everyone, his massive wings were tucked close to his body, straining as if they sought freedom from the small studio. His small wife was beside him, grinning ear to ear as she looked up at him full of excitement. 

How could he refuse when she looked that happy?

As the class concluded, Cassian found himself drenched in sweat, a testament to the intensity of the workout. Sure, he was in perfect shape, he’s had about 500 years of training. Of course, he was a fit male. 

But this tortuous dance class had him wheezing and gasping for air while these moms did the cardio squats like it was nothing. A few of the moms even gave him some fist bumps, humbling the poor lord of bloodshed. 

Grabbing your hand as you both left the studio, a smile formed and tugged on his lips as he reluctantly said, “Mamas, I need one of those pinky drinks you love so much.” Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looked at you expecting to lead the way to your favorite cafe.

[sulkybender]

for a moment the world turns gold

or: a fanfic I am posting on Tumblr for some reason

tags: time travel loop as metaphor for growing up abused, canon-typical child abuse, Zuko needs a hug, Zuko needs a boat, hurt/comfort, hurt Zuko

The first time he wakes up with his old face he thinks it was all a dream, everything that came before. It was a nightmare about the way things could have gone, and a warning, and Zuko takes it to heart.

In the war room he says nothing, and when it ends his father pulls him aside.

His silence, Ozai says, was weakness.

And then he burns Zuko’s face.

—

The next time he wakes up, he feels at his face, gasping. It’s all clean skin, good skin. And he speaks with authority at the war meeting, and his father pulls him aside.

He had no right to speak, Ozai says. He is a child.

And Zuko burns.

—

When Zuko wakes up again he panics. He stays in bed for a long time, longer than he should, trying to breathe.

He remembers the feeling of his father’s hand covering his face, the heat and sting of it, then white-hot pain and then much less, as his nerves died.

And he shakes in bed, crying, and when his father drags him out and asks why he slept through the war meeting, Zuko can’t tell him the truth, because the truth is so much worse.

He didn’t sleep. He cowered.

And Ozai burns his face.

—

The next time he wakes up he goes to find his uncle, to ask for help.

He tries to stay calm, to sound like himself, even though he’s beginning to doubt he knows what that means anymore. He woke up this morning with a nervous tic, a tremor all down his leg.

“Please,” he says. “Please, Uncle. You have to help me. I can’t go to the war meeting.”

“Prince Zuko,” his uncle says. “Backing out of your duties only hours before is shameful behavior. You have made a commitment to the Fire Lord. And I put in my own word for you, you wanted so badly to attend.”

“Uncle,” he says, and his eyes burn so badly that he thinks it’s starting now. “Uncle, please.”

And he sits through the meeting, crying, and his father burns his face.

—

This time he pretends to be sick. He answers with the most wretched cough you can imagine when his uncle comes calling his name.

There’s the coolness of Uncle’s hand on his cheek, the softness of his disappointment. He knows, and shame is like ash in Zuko’s throat.

“Next time, perhaps,” his uncle says. “When you’re better.”

Yes, Zuko thinks, sick with relief. Yes, when he’s not the pathetic person he is now; when he’s braver, stronger, deserving of love. Better.

And his father drags him from bed by his hair, hissing about weakness, his weak and useless child.

Zuko doesn’t disagree.

And his father burns his face.

—

He speaks up again, because he knows what’s coming. His father tells him to rise and fight, and he rises, he fights.

The flood of fire he can’t break, seething, billowing in waves. For a moment the world turns gold. He could live in the heat of it forever.

The world is really very beautiful, even as it tries to dissolve you.

Then he feels the skin of his forearms blister and peel, and his father grabs his arms, twisting them. His vision goes white.

He falls to the ground, and burns.

—

He speaks up again, because he’s angry. He’s angry with his father; he’s angry with himself.

He’s trapped and he’s angry, and he hates what’s being done to these men, because it’s the eighth time he’s seen the generals discuss it openly and plainly, with such pleasure. And no one’s ever stood up for him, and someone should stand up for the people no one’s ever stood up for, and he knows, he knows, that if he’s forceful enough, compelling enough, his father will respect him.

What his father respects is strength. Zuko can be strong.

He speaks out, feeling the tremor in his leg, but it’s a tremor of excitement now, not just fear. He knows the right thing to do and he knows how to do it—the thing he’s never known, not just the force of his ideas but a shape—and he gives his speech with the kind of moral clarity that will make his father proud.

And his father burns his face.

—

The next time Zuko wakes up he stares at the ceiling for a very long time.

Then he goes down to the war room and his father burns his face.

—

The next days are like this, and the next.

—

After a while, waking up whole becomes more painful, almost, than being burned.

When he wakes up with his clean face, his good face. It means his suffering didn’t matter. He wants it to matter. If it has to happen, he needs it to matter.

He wakes up with his clean face, his mother’s face, and thinks she wouldn’t recognize the person he’s becoming.

—

The last time Zuko sits in the war room, he thinks he’s going to lose his mind. He thinks he already has. The flames behind the Fire Lord’s throne lick and curl, shifting colors, and for a moment Zuko is too dizzy to stand. He could fall into that gold again, the loveliness of the world as it eats you.

But he does stand. And he gives the speech, not because he wants to get it over with or because he thinks his father will love him if he just gets it right, but because he’s accepted his father will never love him. That whatever he does he will always be burned. In a thousand worlds, a thousand lifetimes, there is no outcome in which his father does not burn his face.

And as he thinks about this, small hands clenching in his robes, he tries to imagine what it would be like to be his own person for the first time—not his father’s tool, not his sister’s.

“I’m not afraid,” he tells the generals, his father. “Whatever you do to me I’m not afraid.”

And he wakes up on a boat, face singing with pain, and his uncle holding his hand.

[goodoldfashionedengineer]

Gotham is sentient. Gotham knows what is going on in. Gotham knows who is fighting for her.

So when the Batman proves himself of trying his very best nearly every night to protect his city, Gotham announces him her knight and shows him a vision. A vision of the future. Of who her next protector will be.

He calls himself the Red Hood. Not the same guy he had already fought, but someone who stands close to him. Who is not afraid to kill.

He is allowed one question.

"What is his name?"

"Jason Todd"

Maybe he can change things.

Not a name that strikes out. Nothing special. But he remembers it.

And then, one night, he meets a boy stealing his tires. He definitely knows how to defend himself, Bruce's bruised ribs are proof of that. But he doesn't have anyone.

So he puts him in Ma Gunn's school for boys. Maybe with some proper guidance he could become Gotham's protector without killing.

But the school turned out to be a crime scheme. Better to remove all variables and train the boy himself.

As the months go by, Jason feels save enough to put his walls down. To not play into the tough guy act anymore. He is positively overwhelmed because this boy is so sweet, so kind and nice and enthusiastic. So Bruce might be doing a good job apparently.

Until. Until the Garzonas case. Bruce has seen it. The man with the red helmet, the guns and the corpses and blood surrounding him. With the same eyes as his son. The knowledge of the future leads him to think that Jason HAS to have pushed Felipe.

Bruce blames himself, thinks he has wasted his time and resources. And it hurts because despite everything he has begun to love this boy. But he is just Batman, he can't change the future.

But then Jason dies. And that hurts more. Because now Jason never even has the chance to grow up to be Red Hood, doesn't have the chance to grow up at all. And he hates himself because sometimes he thinks about if this might be a good thing actually. He died as an innocent child. It's tragic, he deserved better. But maybe this is better than becoming a murderer and it is mercy.

Years later, Red Hood arrives in Gotham.

In front of him stands the man he saw in the future vision all those years ago.

Bruce reflects. If he had just left Jason alone when he first met him. But who knows if it would even have mattered? His biggest regret though is that he ever thought that a child dying might be something good.

After the debacle that was the Joker showdown, Jason multiplies his effort to help Gotham his way times ten. And that's when Gotham awards him with a vision, tells him that he is her paladin and tells him her rules, how he has one question open after seeing who her next protector will be.

Jason doesn't really care for the person in the vision, what happens in the future should stay in the future, because otherwise they were always doomed.

But then it strikes him. An idea. A terrible one but it seems logical. He has to word this carefully. "Has Batman known that I, Jason Todd, would become Red Hood?"

"Yes"

At their next encounter, Jason tells him how much of a savior complex he has. In reality, Jason is deeply hurt. Bruce treated him as someone that deserved to be cherished, to be loved. Treated him as someone valuable. But now he sees that Bruce had only ever seen him as broken, something to fix, someone doomed. Nothing more

[sadiegirl2021]

Let's try to remember that the necklace was just a symbol used to drive the narrative. It might never be seen or heard about again.

What is symbolism?

In literature, a symbol is a thing that stands for or represents something else. A symbol might be an object, a mark, an image, a character, a name, or a place—pretty much anything can serve as a symbol.  They can even be the primary plot driver. Symbols can also help readers make associations. Symbols can be used to foreshadow events.

So, that symbolic object showed us;

Azriel feels wrong in his pursuit of Elain. He doesn't see anything long-term, only a stolen moment.

He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her.

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.

Elain gave back the necklace because she felt the sting of his rejection when he called what they were doing a mistake.

"This was a mistake.”

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

“You don't-- Don't apologize,” he managed to say. "Never apologize. It's I who should…” He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression. "Goodnight.”

Hinted at Gwynriel's mating bond when he gave it to Clotho and felt a spark in his chest

Clotho's pen moved once more. "She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her."

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to  the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.

But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

Gwyn did not lure him there at 7 so he'd give her the necklace. Elain did not imbued her powers into it. We don't need to theorise if Clotho even gave it to Gwyn. The necklace was just a symbolic object guiding the reader through plot points.

So, we might never see or hear about it again because it already served its purpose! The symbolism was crystal clear. Or crumbs, as SJM called them!

[andreal831]

I feel guilty: In some ways, I feel Hayley and the Mikaelsons set up Hope to fail. Now, with canon included, I think Hope did find her way - but ironically feel like her story should have been "Klaus, Hayley, and Elijah are what the remaining family tied to Hope but with the three dead - Hope is on her own, and having to navigate a world where she loves her dad but everyone is just as entitled to hate him and come into conflict with that". (Sorry, that's a long one). Basically because of how morally dubious the TVD gang (+ Dorian) could be - it makes sense that they know to separate Klaus's actions from Hope - but what about those who did not have that luxury and only remember a monster that was Klaus? I would use Tyler's story, but in a vague gesture: Hope needs to earn someone's trust after her father (or other relatives) brutalized them and has no way to defend or justify it. Essentially getting someone's trust for her as "Only Hope" and not the surname she's connected to. Or the more common arc, Hope realizing just because she loves her family doesn't mean she can overwrite the centuries of cruel history they left behind.

I'm not saying the Mikaelsons didn't love Hope, but Hope is unique (not just as a tribrid but the only living blood relative who hasn't been alive for a millennia) and had pressure on her that shouldn't be there. Hayley loved her, but should have warned her that living in a town that still had - living - people her dad fought with and hurt should have taken precedence over keeping a torch lit for their relationship. Klaus had his chance to be someone in this world, now Hope has to live in it and make something of herself - in his name or by herself.

(Sorry if this comes off anti. While I have anti thoughts and do like Hope, I think she could have stood to have a better characterized arc.)

I'll start by prefacing this and say that I haven't seen much of Legacies, I only know a lot of the show from edits.

But I agree that the show did a pretty terrible job with really diving into the cycle of trauma and pressures that were put on Hope since before she was even born. They were so focused on making Klaus redeemable and centering Hope around Klaus that they didn't allow for her character to have the development she needed.

I really like what I know about Hope's character and I even look past the wild hoops the writers had to jump through to make her existence possible. But for a show that centered around a magical, miracle baby, they sidelined her character a lot. The writers were so focused on setting up Legacies that they forgot to give the characters the development that was necessary for it to get there.

People love to say that Klaus broke the cycle of abuse with Hope, but he didn't. It just manifested in a different way. He never physically harmed her, but he neglected, abandoned, and emotionally harmed her repeatedly. This trauma is something that Hope doesn't even get to work through.

Hope at 7 years old seems more or less well adjusted. I think Hayley did a good job protecting her from everything. She missed her family in an abstract way because she didn't truly understand what she was missing. She had Hayley and Mary. Klaus allowing himself to be captured and held prisoner was the best thing he ever did for Hope. She was able to live for seven years safe and loved. I may get hate for it, but Hope was better off living as a Marshall away from the Mikaelsons.

I don't necessarily think Hayley was wrong for letting Hope grow up believing the best in her family. At that point, Hope was very isolated. She deserved to have a childhood without it being taken away by the Mikaelsons. But I do think Hayley should have had more conversations with her as she got older, especially if she was going to a school where it was likely to come up.

As soon as she is back with the Mikaelsons, her life once again revolved around what she can do for Klaus. I'm not saying they all didn't love Hope, but she was never allowed to just exist. The fact that she used to keep points when she was "good" or "bad" shows just how much she felt it. She had to be perfect because if she wasn't, she wouldn't be worth their sacrifice or Klaus might slip back into a terrible person.

I've talked about it before, but sending Hope to the Salvatore School made no sense to me. She was safer in New Orleans. She had her mother's pack, he vampires would protect her for Josh and Marcel, Vincent wouldn't let anything happen to her, and she had her mother. Hayley sending her daughter away to boarding school for most of the year made zero sense. I watched the first few episodes of Legacies before TO and I genuinely thought they all died when she was a child because of how she acted with Alaric and the twins. She desperately wanted a family, something Hayley had done a great job providing in the past, but sending her away to school made Hope feel neglected. She was already being neglected by Klaus, she didn't need to feel abandoned by both parents.

And, as you said, she is sent to a school that is run by a man who hates her father, in a town full of people who hate her whole family. She had to listen to people talking about how awful they were, and it was all warranted, which makes it worse for her. She didn't get to attempt to process that on her own. She had to do it while constantly being compared to her family. Alaric was always using it as a way to punish her. The adults clearly were not mature enough to separate Hope from what her family did and they had no business being in charge of her.

The entire terrible legacy of the Mikaelsons was put on Hope's shoulder and the show just ignored that trauma because if they didn't, they would have to admit that Klaus wasn't redeemed, everyone just moved on. So then the people who didn't just move on look like the bad guys. Alaric had every right to hate Klaus, Tyler would have every right to hate both of Hayley and Klaus. They don't owe the Mikaelsons anything, but it is also not fair that Hope has to take the brunt of their anger because Klaus died and got away with literal murder. Hope was a child and shouldn't have had to work to prove herself. She deserved love and support and understanding, like every other child. She deserved to have the space and support to sort out her feelings toward her family, the good and the bad. She deserved to yell at Klaus for abandoning her, to be angry at Elijah for putting that pressure on her, to be angry at her aunts and uncles for abandoning her after her parents died. She deserved to figure out who she was outside of the legacy of pain and torment her family left behind, but as far as I can tell, she is never given that time. All of this would have given her character more depth. Coming to the realization that her family were terrible people but she still loved them is a hard pill to swallow, but it was something she needed to come to terms with. Glorifying Klaus and erasing Hayley, did very little for her development except to play on Klaus' popularity for views.

I love the Mikaelsons but each and every one of them were terrible at being family and terrible people. Hope suffered because of this.

Thanks for the ask! Sorry if I just went on a tangent and didn't fully answer your question.

[druidonity2]

My last two brain cells being investigated for identity theft and corruption.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the way the beginning of s10 tries to push dean & sam being equally dark falls so flat with how sam is. literally just doing the same job they’ve always done. and demon!dean is Pathetic and his on-screen kill count is one douchebag and a bunch of demons that normal dean would have killed anyway.

but actually, i think the best way to fix this would have been keeping demon!dean as he is and making it so that sam genuinely does go dark side getting him back. sam sacrificing multiple people to demon deals on purpose. sam torturing and killing not just demons but other hunters who he knows are on dean’s trail. sam trying so hard not to dose himself with demon blood again, but he gets desperate, he takes a drink, and by the time he catches up with dean, he’s powerful enough to trap dean like a mouse before dean even realizes how dangerous sam has become. demon!dean getting loose later and thinking he’s hunting sam through the bunker only for the tables to turn when it’s sam hunting him, sam dragging a knife across his throat and taking his blood while dean struggles and fails to fight him off. sam dragging dean back telekinetically to the dungeon and waiting to cure him until cas is there to heal the fatal wound sam put in him.

if we have to make a big deal about sam being “just as bad” as demon!dean. i think he should have been much, much worse, actually.

[zhongli-lover-69]

WRIOTHESLEY IS HERE

[angelamontoo]

I finally saw stranger on the third floor(kinda, the version I watched was of a very poor quality)

The movie as a whole was ok, but wow! I love the stranger. Also Joe Briggs

[bitchapalooza]

I was writing a tophabe fic, now I am writing an Abe vs Topher fic 🥰

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction To You Being Their Controversially Young Girlfriend

Warnings: Implied Smut, Legal Age Gap, Age Gap Relationships, Daddy Kink, Older Man/Younger Woman, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Possessive MW2, Degradation, Mention of Corruption, Mentions of Innocence, Mentions of Naivety, Praise Kink (M Giving), Implied Choking Kink, Angry Sex, Groping, Brat Taming, Man Handling/Woman Handling, Dumbification Kink, Gentle MW2, Rough MW2, Self-Consciousness, Mentions of Blood/Injury, Insecurity, Profanity, Pet Names, Fem Pronouns Used For Reader.

Ghost

Pretends he doesn’t care about the age gap, but he secretly does.

You’d never know it, but he worries that he’s roping you into a relationship – a long-term one at that – when you should be out, meeting guys, gaining life experience.

He also fears that, in some way, he’s corrupting you, that his selfish desire to keep you close to him will lead to you being targeted or you eventually resenting him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him otherwise, he’s still going to worry about you.

There are a few ways you can put his mind at ease, though. Namely of the bedroom variety.

More on this later 👀.

He spoils you silly, absolutely rotten. Anything that catches that pretty little eye of yours and he’s already got it gift wrapped. He feels it’s the least he can do after you’ve shown  him that life isn’t just an endless cycle of suffering – an infinitum of anguish – that he does deserve happiness and a chance at love.

Very gentle during sex. Unless you ask him not to be.

Expect a lot of praise in bed.

Many a night have you found yourself pinned under Simon, his mouth to your ear as he pants, moaning, telling you how you’re “Such a good girl, taking me so well,” while he fills you with long, languid strokes.

Other times, he’s not so gentle.

Oftentimes, usually as a result of purposefully making Ghost jealous, have you been pinned against a hard surface – one of convenience rather than comfort – with Simon at your back, the tent in his pants catching you.

His voice is deep, husking and carnal as he reminds you who you belong to.

“Like having your pretty little cunt ravaged by an older man, don’t you, Love.”

He’s very protective of you.

He sometimes construes your young age as innocence, naivete. Hence, he never lets you out of his sight when you’re out together.

Scary dog privileges.

Absolutely feral, down bad for you: you only have to do or say the most minimal of things to make him melt, to become a slave to his adoration for you.

That being said, he’s paranoid that one day you’ll see him as he views himself and leave him for someone better – someone you deserve. Someone younger.

He’s damaged goods, you still have your whole life to live. And yet you stay with him, promise him that he’s the only man you’ll ever love.

As stated earlier, Simon can be persuaded of your dedication to him via special, particular means.

However, if you play into his insecurities, even to get a rise out of him, he’ll pounce on you, grab your wrists and pin you to a wall, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him.

And, beneath dark lashes and darker eyes, he makes a promise to you.

“Oh, you think a younger lover can pleasure you like I can?” he says, his head tilting. “Don’t you worry, Darling. I’ll fuck that idea outta that pretty little head of yours until the only thing rattling around in there is me.”

König

Somewhat insecure in your relationship. Especially when he gets disapproving glances and glares from passers-by when they note the very obvious age difference between the two of you.

But, his love for you can overcome any measure of anguish, social or otherwise.

He’s the gentlest giant you could ever hope to meet, both in and out of bed.

When he feels like it.

He treats you like you’re innocent and pure, shielding your eyes from graphic scenes on TV and gruesome stories in the newspaper.

Sometimes he has to remind himself that you’re a fully-grown woman, even if you are younger than him.

You send him absolutely feral whenever you wear his clothes btw.

Seeing as any one of his shirts could be your nightdress, he calls you his “Minnie Maus”, and treats you as such.

Pls sit on his lap, he’ll only be able to die happy once you do.

He fears judgement from others whenever you enact PDA, so to make up for his lack of willing to be physical with you in public, there isn’t a moment where you’re without him at home.

Extended periods of time in your presence tend to send him a bit…funny.

A little bit silly.

And by silly, I mean there’s a single thread of humanity keeping him from tearing your clothes off at any given second.

Especially if he’s seen a younger guy looking at you earlier in the day.

One of the few times he’ll get physical with you in public is whenever he catches someone looking at you with a glaze over their eyes he knows all too well.

He approaches you from behind, slipping a pythonic arm about your waist and pulling you into him.

Only now does your admirer look away, leave the premises entirely, once they catch sight of König’s gargantuan proportions and the rabid look in his eye.

Once you get home, he’s on you before you can even shut the door.

It’s times like these that König doesn’t feel insecure about the age gap between you.

Because he knows, no matter how little you’re willing to admit it, that nobody will ever be able to make you scream and cry and tremble like he can.

“Did you like that boy’s attention earlier, Maus?” he says, his eyes cattish and voice serpentine. He bears down on you, his hand about your throat as the other travels under your skirt.

“Is my love not enough? Are my affections wasted on you?”

His eyes glint in the dim light of the bedroom. His teeth look sharper – primal – in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

“No matter. I’ll make you remember how much you need me,” he presses into you. The bulge between his legs feels far too big for you to take.

“Inch by bloody inch.”

Valeria

You’re her little Angel, her Goddess, the light of her life and her reason for living.

That does not exempt you from her teasing, however.

Sexual or otherwise.

She’s particularly fond of randomly grabbing your backside when she’s walking past, or smacking it so hard that you yelp and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Even if you use your puppy-dog eyes on her, disobedience is not accepted under her roof.

In fact, trying to wriggle out of any punishment she has planned is enough to make her grab you and pin you to a wall, her grip unrelenting as she sucks and bites your neck, leaving harsh red marks and a sense of helplessness as she does what she pleases with you.

“Don’t go fucking around behind my back again, Chiquita,” she tells you, her nose touching yours and her eyes black. She brings her knee between your legs, pressing into you.

“Or next time I won’t just stop at your throat.”

She loves dressing you up in the finest clothing money (and a ghastly reputation) can buy.

She thrives on having you hanging off her arm like a dog on a leash; she gets to show you off to her subordinates and business partners who know they’ll never even have the thought of having a chance with you entertained.

Valeria’s mood can fluctuate in bed.

Sometimes, she treats you like a common whore she found on the street, fucking every ounce of rage, hate and venom into you until some part of you’s left bleeding as Valeria’s panting on top of you, her lips to your cheeks as she kisses your tears away with a whiplash-inducing gentleness she seemed incapable of minutes ago.

Most of the time, she’s loving and kind, putting your needs above her own.

Sure, she still teases you, makes you work for her love and dedication, but you know she’d do anything for you.

You can tell in her tone as she tells you of how she would “Scorch the earth if only to find a fragment of you in the wreckage.”

You disappearing or being taken from her is her biggest fear, and at night she holds you tightly against her chest, your buffer against the world she would sooner see in flames than relinquish you to.

Price

He’s so father-coded fr.

He calls you his little girl, his Princess, Love, Darling, Dollie — anything that highlights your fragile nature.

Shows you off to his friends just so he can show them what they’re missing. He adores the feeling of you curling further into him under the eyes of his task force, the look in their eyes relating something savage, primal, as they look at your bare thighs – the pinnacle of which shadowed by John’s shirt – and watch something they can never have, never touch.

John hides his insecurity well, but he does secretly worry about the age gap.

Especially when he watches younger men looking at you in ways he does.

The difference being that, while they offered you the world and would give you nothing, you are John’s world.

When you can tell John’s feeling worried, comforting him is a surprisingly easy task.

A kiss to the temple and the promise that he’s the only man for you is usually enough to put his mind at ease and make his face break out into a smile.

On the rare occasion it isn’t, however, alternative methods are at your disposal.

E.g. screaming John’s name into the night as your nails drag down the expanse of his back, bodies scorching as he brings you to tears with his touch and his unrelenting pace.

He will absolutely hold his rank/age over you when he’s like this, no longer a point of contention or shame for him as he tells you he’s the “Only one who can make you whimper like a fuckin’ dog,”

“Such a good girl for me, my good little cocksleeve,” he rasps in your ear as he bounces you on top of him, his hands about your waist, preventing you from fleeing or falling off.

“God, you’re so beautiful — so— fuck— gorgeous.” He’s panting, gasping, growling.

“And all mine.”

Horangi

You’re the only thing that matters to him.

At this point, he only remains as a military contractor to ensure that he can keep you in the style to which you are accustomed.

Calls you 자기야 (Jagiya – Honey, Darling).

His favourite thing to do is sit you between his legs and wrap around you like armour.

In case you couldn’t tell, he’s highly protective of you.

You can make him do absolutely anything — he’s at your beck and call.

You can get him to buy you anything if you give him what he likes to call ‘kitten eyes’ eyes.

Even if you’re being a brat, he remains calm and treats you like his little angel, his sweetpea.

Unless you push him too far.

At which point, he won’t hesitate to tame you if you try your luck.

He’ll have you bent over his lap, holding you down with his forearm as he turns your thighs and backside red-raw with the slap of his belt.

“Don’t start crying now, 자기 — you brought this on yourself.”

He never fails in the aftercare department, though.

Always filling your head with words of affirmation as he bathes you, carrying you to bed and tending to your skin with soothing creams and soft touches.

Hong-jin goes super feral crazy when you call him 오빠.

A common honorific used towards any man older than the person using it.

Even if you don’t understand the implications of it, Hong-jin does. And yes, it does tend to make him a bit silly.

Silly enough to know that he’s not going to last long and needs to get home ASAP to deal with…something.

Which he also makes your problem, pressing messy, desperate kisses to your lips as he tries to get his shirt off, your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat skyrocketing.

“I need you, (Y/N),” he says, breathless, almost growling. Yet, his eyes are wide, pleading. A doe-eyed prince with the aura of a wolf king. “And I’ll have every inch of you.”

Alejandro

Pre-established passionate lover.

One who is fiercely protective over you.

If anyone — and I mean anyone — catcalls you, makes passes at you, or even looks at you in the wrong way, Alejandro makes sure to enact righteous fury upon them.

He’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re 110% satisfied, regardless of context.

You want a new wardrobe ? It’s done. A new car ? All yours. You need Alejandro now and it can’t wait ? Why, how can he say no when you whine like that, when you tug at his sleeve and tuck your head against his shoulder.

He calls you “mi Princesa” and makes sure everybody knows you’re his and he’s yours.

A thorough lover is how you might describe him.

Especially after he’s so willing to bend you against the nearest surface to get you off, no matter the time of day.

You can bring him to his knees with just a look. Turn him from the most respected soldier in his department into a feral wolf.

Which, if you play your cards right, can end very well for both of you.

Alejandro likes to play a game whenever you’re riding him.

He grabs you by your hips and anchors you on top of him.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on for, mi Corazón,” he says, flashing you a sultry smile before he’s bucking into you at the pace of a mechanical rodeo horse at full speed.

“Holding on” can mean anything from not being pounded off Ale’s hips to staving off your orgasm for as long as you can.

Failure to do either is when you see Alejandro at his most wicked. When he’s all teeth, a shark’s grin, his eyes dark and his voice low as he tells you that he needs to “Train your endurance. How else are you going to take me again, hm?”

Needless to say, you’ll be lucky to be able to get out of bed the next day.

Rodolfo

His heart beats only for you. And as a result, he treats you like royalty.

As he should.

You want it ? You got it. 

In abundance.

You have the best of everything and Rudy loves nothing more than seeing your face light up when you receive one of his many gifts.

That, and having you sat on his lap, raking your fingers through his hair as he tells you about his day.

He omits the more gruesome details, fearing he’ll taint you with the blood on his hands if he doesn’t.

Speaking of lap-sitting, it’s your one-way ticket to an eventful afternoon with Rudy.

Cockwarming is his go-to, your legs wrapped about his waist as he fills out reams of paperwork, pressing kisses to your shoulder and telling you “What a good girl you’re being, mi amor,”

Be prepared for a tidal wave of praise for doing the bare minimum.

It doesn’t matter if Rudy’s topping or bottoming, he’s going to let you know how you’re making him feel, how nobody will ever ensnare him like you do.

“I love you,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded and skin glistening with sweat as you take him.

“I love you, I love you so much–” He growls, back arching into you as you catch a sensitive area. His chest is heaving and his eyes are dark.

“I’ll never let anyone else have you.”

Graves

This guy was made to have a controversially young girlfriend.

Calls you “Babydoll”, “Babygirl”, “Little Lady”, etc.

He unironically refers to himself as “Daddy”.

E.g. “You were eyein’n up that necklace for a while, Darlin’…” His hand slips to the crotch of his jeans, rocking his bulge into his palm.

“Maybe if you ask Daddy real nicely, he’ll get it for you.”

He’s actually very caring. He’d buy you the world if it meant seeing you smile.

He never expects anything from you in return.

He just can’t pass up the opportunity to have you in his arms, to touch you.

Graves can tend to go overboard with the gifts, though.

Calls you “young thing” when he’s feeling humourous.

On the flip-side, he can (and will) use your age gap against you. Like Price, but more Southern.

He’ll be very condescending when he’s mad, tending to use terms that undermine how intelligent and capable you really are.

“If you’d just listened to me and gotten it through your tiny head that I’m doing what’s best for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

On the flip-flip-side, he uses your age gap as a jumping-off point into…dubious activities.

#1 dumbification kink enjoyer.

He’s a switch with top lean, what can I say.

“Can’t do anything without me, can you, Sweetheart.” It’s not a question. His eyes are too serious, too stern, for it to be. He’s  pounding into you, hands either side of your head, caging you beneath him.

Between his panting, he presses a wet, uncoordinated kiss to your lips.

“I’ll make sure you can’t even think without me by the time I’m done with you.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad