#she lives purely off of spite

[yanderespamton78]

the current state of the arg

sorry guys the art isnt arting D:

(btw if youre confused on why i drew turnip like that i was referencing the picrew he did ages ago bc idk it looked fun to draw anddd i dont like taking reference off real life images)

[thebadboyfanclub]

My Beloved Wife (Cregan x Reader)

Honestly I got nothing to say for this imagine it’s just sex scenes pieced together. Hope you enjoy!

“It is such a blessed day for you to be frowning sweetling”

Corlys advised his daughter before he placed a kiss on her forehead, (y/n) felt like a lamb for slaughter, a sacrifice for the name of alliance and strength, her mother could only offer a grin and a tight hug for comfort, her youngest offspring was meeting the fate that was written for her the second she was born.

Rhaenys did her best to shield (y/n) from wedlock for as long as she possibly could, sending her away to the Riveruns with the excuse of “expanding her horizons of knowledge”, Rhaenys was a bystander when Lord Cregan asked about their daughter, Lord Cregan was betrothed at the time so it was impossible to predict such a twist of events.

Her father guided her toward her future Lord husband and (y/n) could not breathe properly. There he stood, the ever-defiant Cregan Stark who was with his head held high and a look that could stop a man and make a giant tremble from fear, a Velaryon could not survive in the cold of the north, she was not meant for the environment that she was now obliged to live in after they exchanged oaths in front of the old gods.

(Y/n) could still recall how she shook from the cold that pierced through her bones under her blanket, the handmaidens had dressed her in a sheer nightgown and even though the fire burned bright she was still unable to control her shiver.

“You will get used to it, first nights are always tough”

She had not heard him walk in, a yelp escaped her lips as she sat up in their shared bed to fully see him, instinctively she covered herself with the thick blanket, Cregan was slightly intoxicated from the feast, she could tell as he lazily left his goblet on the table and almost there away his fur, letting it hit the ground with a heavy thud.

“I hope so”

She replied in a meek voice as she diverted her gaze away from Cregan who only approached her and stopped once he was directly ahead of her, his thumb and index found her chin and slowly guided her head towards his direction, once (y/n) laid her eyes on him once again she was met with a drunk yet kind smirk, she did not realize that he was smiling back at him with the same fondness.

“My lady wife”

He spoke more to remind himself and refresh how the phrase rolled off his tongue, it was easy, the girl was beautiful and appeared to be sweet, still, the thorn that stuck in his heart was the fact that she was not Arra, his beloved Arra who gave her life for their son.

Out of pure spite to himself, he brushed off the idea of his Arra and in a blink of an eye (y/n) felt his lips crash with hers with such force that made her lay back down and Lord Stark climb on top of her.

(Y/n) was inexperienced when it came to the sweet path of beddings, Cregan giggled when she saw how she attempted to cover her breasts when he took off her nightgown, one could easily detect how (y/n) did not know how to go about this.

“Do not worry, I will lead, I’ll be gentle”

He put her nerves to ease, her soft skin and sweet scent were enough to lure Cregan into another world, her embrace was tight and her body was burning, (y/n) found out the ways that pain and pleasure could go hand in hand when it came to laying with a man.

(Y/n) surrendered to her lord husband's arms and became a slave to her bodily needs and cravings, love bites started to decorate his skin as (y/n) was no longer in control but Cregan did not care, she was a natural partner in this dance of their bodies

The idea that (y/n) was experiencing things with Cregan for the first time excited him, to see her face form as her body went over waves of pleasure was his favorite part, his grasp was strong and his caress had a certain amount of possessiveness, like the winner that was collecting his reward.

“I-I don’t know”

“It is alright, it is normal”

Her chest was set on fire and the muscles in her entire body spasmed as droplets of sweat went down from her forehead to her cheek, it felt like she would die and then nothing, her body relaxed fully and with a gasp of air she fell on the man that held her until the sensation washed away, she looked so pretty with her hair sticking to her forehead and her eyes half shut from tiredness.

Cregan was also close to experiencing the addictive feeling of it when the idea of pregnancy and the end of Arra repeating took over and with a swift motion he jumped off from her like something had bit him or stung him, his back was now turned on him as he grunted, his heavy breathing and sudden change in his demeanor left her utterly confused.

“What- what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Her innocence and concern left him somewhat amused within the surreal scenery, (y/n) tried to peak while she let her chin rest on his bicep and Cregan mastered all his strength to calm himself.

“No, no, everything is fine, you should rest”

-

Cregan was a man that came with a cloak of mystery wrapped around him, he was respectful to (y/n), held her honor high and was respectful to her in every aspect, there was no room for anyone to even attempt at making any comment about his lady wife.

The problem was that (y/n) had expected him to be more endearing towards her after their encounter, he had not summoned her to his chambers after that night, and their physical contact was as far as a hold of a hand or a caress of her hair, she yearned for the safety that his hugs provided, for the heat his body radiated and the spark in his eyes.

“Higher, (y/n)!”

Little Rickon squealed with joy as (y/n) held the reigns of her dragon Starblaze who flew in circles around their home, (y/n) missed being able to ride her dragon for hours on end, she would try to do for at least an hour a day since Starblaze had started to complain by leaving loud screeches in the middle of the night.

Rickon was curious for marvelous creature, at first she would only let him climb on Starblazes back while he was on land, but slowly she started to take him up in the air with her, (y/n) smiled at the joy that was radiating the little lord and commanded her dragon to go a little higher.

“Dracarys”

She yelled and Starblaze let a breath of fire before they ducked under it, Rickon was slightly frightened by the sight of the fire still as they went away from it for safety his laugh was loud and rambunctious.

(y/n) adored the child from the moment they met, a bright and kind child that was the light she needed to forget the coldness of his father, she would spend her days entertaining the boy by going on rides or playing hide and seek and even helped him with his studies, the boy grew attached to the Velaryon lady in a fast pace and could not go to sleep unless (y/n) tucked him in.

Cregan had gone out in the yard with his men before he saw the handmaidens without his lady wife nor his child around, concerned he approached them for answers since they were supposed to have lunch together an hour ago.

“Where are my lady wife and my son?”

“Lady (y/n) has taken Lord Rickon on dragon back”

Almost like (y/n) had heard her husband looking for them she decided it was time to make their landing, as gently as he could Starblaze landed before he roared to make Cregan cover his ears from the sound, he turned his attention to the large beast only to find (y/n) slide down before she reached up to assist Rickon and once he was tucked in her arms and supported him by her hip she fixed his ruffled her, the boys' rosy cheeks were the evidence of the cold air as he leaned to (y/n)s arms as much as he could.

“Did you have fun little cub?”

Rickon nodded with excitement and (y/n) snickered at how adorable the child was, to see him smile so brightly and enjoy his time with her was the peak of her day, (y/n) was so fascinated by Rickon that she did not notice how Cregan looked at them.

His son was motherless ever since birth, he had not known the love of a mother, he married (y/n) to somehow fill that void in the boy's heart, his heart sang at the sight of Rickon tucking his head on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her neck and (y/n) rubbed his back, she saw him as her kin, Rickon was now one of her own.

“My apologies my lord we seem to lose track of time, Rickon was strapped the whole time I hope you did not worry for his safety, we double check everything before we ride”

“It alright my love, Chiara take Rickon to his bed”

“I will see you later sweet boy”

Rickon yawned when he was passed to the handmaiden, it seemed like the long ride tired him out to forget he had not eaten since he broke his fast, (y/n)s heart skipped a beat at the words of Cregan, he never called her that, it was always “my lady” or “my wife”.

“We should head for lunch”

“It can wait”

Cregan grabbed her hand not forcibly but with enough strength to guide her away from the yard, (y/n) was taken back by the sudden behavior of the lord, he had never done such an act of escorting her so swiftly or skipping their lunch.

Before she could ask any questions or understand where they were heading Cregan pulled her into his chamber and shut the door behind him, at an instant his arm snaked around her waist, and put his lips on top of hers for a passionate kiss.

(Y/n) relaxed under his touch as she wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss, the sensation of his beard against her chin was something she never would have guessed that she had missed, his fingers found the back of her dress and with clumsy movements, he snapped her corset open.

“My beloved wife”

It came out more like a growl than a compliment before he finally got her naked, his eyes full of lust as his big hands roamed her bare skin, (y/n) was a fine partner as she had familiarised herself with Cregan wanting to take the lead.

Cregan positioned her so she can straddle him while he sat on their bed, her fingers graced through scars that he had earned from previous battles on his chest and lower abdomen, in (y/n)s eyes Cregan was a God, a handsome young lord that was hers by oath, to be able to see him paralyzed with pleasure was an aphrodisiac on its own.

“I missed you”

She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper as she found the strength to admit it between kisses that tickled his neck, slowly she dragged her nails down his back causing him to hiss, Cregan had done his best to restrain from taking her in every room of his home, he had not forgotten their wedding night but the fear of losing her while his seed occupied her womb had been the only obstacle.

“Do not worry, you will always be mine”

The greediness had started to run in Cregan's veins when it came to her, the whispers of men about her beauty and the things they would say about her were making him go wild inside.

(Y/n) was the lady of the north now, it was inevitable that men wanted her and women envied her, that did not make it better in his head, he was possessive of his dragon, and now that she had spread her wings over his firstborn son in such a compassionate and loving way.

The image of (y/n) with a swollen belly walking next to him as the men lowered their heads in defeat was his motivation to thrust with all his might, slow yet strong as he earned grunts and moans from her.

(Y/n) moved her hips like she mounted her dragon, she smirked at the idea that her years on dragon back would come in handy when it came to pleasuring her lord husband, she thoroughly enjoyed Cregan's surprise and sounds that came from his plump lips, the student was catching up to her master.

“Keep it up, my love”

“Say it again”

“My Love”

Cregan repeated before he grabbed a fistful of her hair to force her head back and create a canvas of kisses and bites out of her shoulders and collarbones, her hands found his biceps as she dug her nails deeper to unleash some of her power, there it was again, the strange fire that started from her lower part of her belly and then exploded all over her body.

“We shall have a child, you must be the mother of the child”

He was talking more to himself than her, (y/n) did not care she relished his delirium of thoughts of her becoming a mother, the mother of a wolf and a dragon, what intricate combination would that be? She thought, she had grown tired but kept going, waiting for him to pull away from her all of the sudden but he never did, on the contrary, he held her closer and his hug became almost like an invincible lock with her chest colliding with his until he finally stopped, his head laid in her chest for a moment until the delightful feeling shimmered down.

(Y/n) caressed his back with her fingertips, the wolf of the north, the warrior lord was now holding her and resting in her arms like a baby, she smiled lazily as his eyes found hers, and his thumb reached up to go over her lips, (y/n) response was pursing her lips and kissing his thumb making him laugh in a lower tone.

“Our first child will be a girl”

“It may be a son, my love”

“No, a girl, she will have a dragon, like her mother”

He slightly pulled back to lower his focus to her now flat belly, his hand went from her lips and traced down to her belly button, forcing goosebumps all over her glistening body, she looked like a diamond as the sweat droplets went between her breasts.

The daylight shinned through the windows (y/n)s skin appeared to be made out of diamonds and the sweat was just liquid gold when it came to what Cregan thought of her, they both panted for air and gawked at one another, Cregan's hands found her waist again to pull her near enough for his lips to nibble on her earlobe before he whispered.

“Today will be the day we conceive our first out of many, let us make sure of that, lay down”

Requests are open!

[the-oblivious-writer]

Too Sweet

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Drabble

Summary: You and Wednesday were simply night and day, contrasting personalities preventing any chance of pursuit

Warning(s): No dialogue, pining!Wednesday, & no pronouns but the word 'goddess' is used once

Notes: Based off of 'Too Sweet' by the lovely Andrew Hozier, this song feels wenclair coded - hopefully I get the energy to edit them to it one day. This is my first time writing for Wednesday, so constructive criticism is more than welcome, and much appreciated! 🙏 (as it always is)

Wednesday despised you. She loathed every fiber of your being, every word you spoke, every path you chose. Yet no matter how deep her hatred for you ran, it was all out of pure spite.

You were close friends with Enid, so inevitably that meant you and Wednesday often found yourselves in the same atmosphere. Sometimes you and Enid would have sleepovers and it did not take long for Wednesday to discover you were an early bird opposed to her late night writing sessions. 

You always looked so peaceful while resting. How do you sleep so well? Wednesday wondered. What do you dream about? It’s silly and utterly ridiculous, she knows. But her mind can’t help but stray when it comes to you. You have shown your own concern when it comes to the Addams’ erratic sleep schedule, if you could even classify it as one. You have always said to others—including Wednesday—to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. 

You wake up to watch the sunrise;  it was repulsing how rottenly pure that is. You were drunk on life, a poet—but far from Wednesday’s brand. You had a bright perspective; it was naive, yet wholesome. Your poetry revolves around the optimistic, steadfast side of life—while Wednesday’s consists of more realistic themes such as death, betrayal, and eternal heartbreak. It was a drastic contrast.

Wednesday could never bear such a naive way of life, so she simply doesn’t understand how you do. It was such a frustrating thought, the way you went about. Don’t you just want to wake up dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze? You lived such a reserved life in her eyes; treating your mouth as if it's heaven’s gate, your body like it’s the TSA. 

She wasn’t oblivious to the glances you spared her; it was an internal battle refusing to meet them. But there were consequences. Wednesday has seen horrific things, things she believes would force a person like you into abandoning their wide-eyed outlook on life; she refuses to be the one who corrupts you. She wishes she could go along, don’t get her wrong. You were a goddess on earth, inside and out; bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. Tooth rotting was what you were, but Wednesday did always deem herself a masochist. 

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe she’ll wait. But until that day, she’d rather take her whiskey neat, raw as the honey in your tea, and coffee black as the ink you use to craft your sugar coated poems. Your sweetness was too overwhelming for her to carry, the looks you gave her alone were laced in your perfection. 

Everything pointed to the evident conclusion; you’re too sweet for her.

-----------

A/N: I feel eh abt this one, but I need to experiment with Wednesday more if I wanna get used to writing for her

[rebelliousstories]

Magical Relationships

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader, Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Reader (Platonic)

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by @oh-prettylady

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 1,466

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: He had spent so long looking for her, only to find that she was closer than ever suspected.

Consider Donating: Here

If there was one thing that Gambit always asked for whenever he could, it would forever be a relationship of his own. He had seen Jean and Scott fall in love, witnessed Beast try himself; hell, everyone he knew had tried. But for some reason, Jean and Scott were the only ones that made it work. But Remy wanted that. He wanted his own lady to call his, to love, and to spoil. When he came back from a mission one day, he got his wish.

A beautiful girl around his age had shown up with the Wolverine. She was shy, only sticking near the burly man, and not speaking to just about anyone. But she was gorgeous, sweet and kind. Her ability to transform into any animal she wished never ceased to amaze Remy when they were in the danger room.

Slowly but surely, she began warming up to the other, but not Gambit. She was still hesitant around him, refusing to say more than a few words to him. It threw the Cajun for a loop the first few times he tried to flirt with her.

“My, my, my, chere. Ya face would look so much prettier up close, ya know? Just close enough for a kiss perhaps.” This caused her to flush red.

“How’s about you and me go and paint the town red tonight, chere?” She turned to Logan for help who kindly told the man she was off limits.

“Oh, I’m feelin’ awfully weak, chere. I hear ya kisses are magic though. How’s about one for ya patient, yeah?” Turning to scamper off was her course of action for this.

Each time he tried to flirt with her, she refused. Maybe he was coming off too strong for her. He knew very little about her backstory when she came to the school. So, Remy decided to switch tactics. He tried to bond with her over something, anything. But they seemed to have very little in common. But he was desperate to have her talk to him in any way they could.

After a few weeks of this, Gambit made very little leeway in his attempt to talk with her. It was not until Logan decided to go off on his own again that he finally got a break. This was not how he wanted it to start, but it was how it happened. Remy had found her staring out of a window towards the road in the school on a day off for them.

“You miss da Wolverine, chere?” He asked quietly. She got a bit spooked, jumping in her seat, and went to leave.

“No, no. I didn’ mean t’ make ya scared. I can leave if ya want.” Holding his hands up, Gambit tried to make himself appear as non threatening as possible to the woman. But what she did next shocked him.

She shook her head, and patted the sot next to her in the window. Waiting, Remy tried to see what exactly she meant, which was met with her patting the spot once more. At her insistence, he made his way over, and slumped down into his seat.

“I just really miss him, you know?” She began, still staring. “He took care of me when I had no one around. It’s hard being without him, not knowing where he is or if he’s alive.”

“Oh, chere. Don’t worry ‘bout it. The Wolverine will come back soon. Besides, I’m pretty sure that man lives purely off of spite, so he be fine.” Remy tried to comfort the girl, but only felt like he was causing her more discomfort.

“You’re right,” she spoke after a brief silence, “Logan will be okay. He’ll come back.” Looking out the window, she looked towards the road once more before turning to the mutant to her right.

“I love your eyes, by the way.” This time, it was Gambit’s turn to be bashful. His face blushed something fierce as he turned away from her. He could only hope that she did not see what was happening to his face, or the smile that appeared on his face.

“You flatter Ol’ Gambit. Ain’t do nothin’ to deserve it.” He stammered out, hoping that she would let it go. But to his fortune, and mis. Fortune, she did not.

Her giggles rang out through the small nook that they were tucked away in, and Gambit turned to face her fully. Even he was not immune to her infectious laughter. Soon, he was joining her in his own deep chuckles that boomed out next to hers. After a few minutes, they began to wind down. And as he looked over at her from across the windowsill, Remy thought something to himself.

This might just work out.

After that night, it was like a flip had been switched. Instead of constantly being shy, and running away from the Cajun, she had begun to enjoy his company. She was enjoying a cup of tea with him in the morning while he made his coffee. In the evenings, she would make a bowl of ice cream for each of them to enjoy in front of the fire in the main study room.

And all through this, they grew closer. Remy’s flirting no longer made her anxious, it excited her. She still had yet to get over her blushing and shyness when he did so, but she was no longer running away which he considered a win in his books. Gambit so badly wanted to properly ask her out; it burned within him. But he had to contend with Logan coming after him.

Oh, he was well aware that the Wolverine would just give him the tough love act, but that did not make it any less intimidating to ask her pseudo-father for permission. It also did not help that the man was currently somewhere that they at the school could not reach him. So for the time being, Gambit was sticking to making her blush like a school girl at every chance he got.

Remy loved the challenge of getting her to blush harder and harder each time. Sometimes, it was the fact that it was in front of the other team members. Other times, it was because of what he had actually said. One particular instance stands out better than the rest.

“Chere, jus’ need t’ ask ya somethin’. Will you Brie mine?” Remy drawled out as he leaned against the counter. Storm, Beast, and Cyclops were sitting at the table nearby and actively listening to what was coming next.

“Don’t you ever get tired of thinking up different pickup lines to use on me?” She teased back, finishing her making of food at the stove.

“Ain’t no trouble to the Gambit if he has t’ think of you. So whatcha say?” There was quiet laughter coming from the table nearby.

“Can I at least have my breakfast first?” Her tone was teasing, even if her words were annoyed.

“Never too early to start the greatest love story ever.”

“Sometimes it is.” The laughing stopped. Gambit stopped in his tracks, and was afraid to turn and face the voice behind him.

“Logan, you’re back!” Her plate was quickly abandoned in favor for wrapping her arms around his neck. His own found a home wrapped around her back before they pulled away.

“Missed me, kid?” A smirk toyed at the edge of his lips.

“Maybe a little.” She admitted; a smile of her own forming on her lips.

“Now, what was this I hear about you wanting to ask the kid out, Cajun?” Logan near growled in his low-rumbling voice.

“Now, Mon Ami, jus’ remember is just Gambit.” He stammered out, holding his hands up defensively. The Wolverine placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop what he was saying immediately.

“Treat her right, or you’re turning into a kebab. I’m going to unpack and go to bed.” Passing the girl on his way back to his room, Logan gave her one last pat on the shoulder and left. There was a stunned silence that enveloped the entire room as everyone tried to process the events that had just unfolded.

“So, Remy,” she began with a teasing tone, “something you wanna ask me?”

He could not speak. The smooth talking Cajun was speechless after that interaction. But once he began to recover, a smirk overtook his rugged features. He walked up closer to the woman and placed a hand back on the counter.

“Will you go out with me, chere?” Remy finally asked her.

“Of course, Gambit. Besides, I have a man waiting to turn you into a kebab if you mess up.” She began to laugh, but the color started drawing from his face once more.

[unsuredreamer]

Would you? Maybe

Chloe Charming 💙 x fem!reader

Here you go my loves, I hope you like it! If you do and want more let me know!

I'm also up for ideas 🙌🏻

Auradon. A seemingly perfect kingdom for anyone, anykind, some people described it as magical even, though there wasn't really anything magical about it, and all kinds of magic were long forgotten here, some forbidden.

A place where people aren't as kind as they are pictured to be, most of them even crueler than the worst villains. You would have thought differently.

Being sent here after told fairytales, you'd expect royals to be nice, welcoming. They might have been, although their children are the real pain in the ass.

You were wondering, why has your dad even sent you here?  It's not like you were needed in this world of mortals, well magical mortals.

Don't you think wrongly of course, you always wondered how it is here, and have always dreamt of living here, even just for a while.

It's just.

You'd never expect them to be mean to you purely out of spite? They whispered behind your back, they talked mean,  even laughed at you loudly, which was something not ordinary for you given in that you never once had done something bad.

You have been here for merely 2 months, it was quite a long time for one, but not so much for you, still yet getting used to the time going a bit faster here you haven't really exchanged a word with anyone other than the professors at the school and maybe 2 students.

Well, until now.

A girl with a big shiny sword hung close to her hip bumped right into you. being slightly taller than a normal sized teenager, for a god shrunken to this size, you stood still keeping your posture straight and your head high as taught to you by your dear mother. The girl wasn't so lucky, sat on the ground she groaned in pain.

"I am so so sorry!" You quickly yelled, trying to help the girl to stand, not really being aware of how loud you are. Yet another thing, to get a hold on, being different from your home grounds. "You're just so small and I-I just wasn't looking, and-"

"Hey, get off her! You prideful weirdo!" Another girl came running in, quickly fisting you away from the gorgeous blue haired girl that was just standing hazed 2 feet away.

You always admired her, her total bluntness and a kind hand, her swordsmanship. Welp, you were an observer if you couldn't yet decipher.

"Aye, I'm not prideful, why would you think that?" You shot back at the possessive girl, her gritted teeth told you she was certainly not the kind one.

"You have been nothing but walking around with your head stuck up, like you're all better than anyone here!" She shot fires up you "You're not by the way." glaring she spat out.

"Hey, Red calm down. It's nothin-"

"You better take your 'I'm a god, you better respect me before I make your life a misery' act out of here, before I make you a feast to the Jabberwocky! So much for being exactly like your father" Red, the truly rebellious princess of Wonderland, yelled cutting the other in process. Making a scene out in the gardens of the school.

Of course, you were not totally oblivious to your surroundings, you knew your royals, and your ways around the kingdoms, around Auradon especially. Actually ruling one of yours for quite a short time, you knew better than to get involved in silly high school fights. Being committed to get to know this world better.

You could take any kinds of insults, you really could, an insult she supposedly thought was very harsh. But you actually wanted to be exactly like your father.

Not so much a cocky god. You never thought of yourself as the goddess such great that everyone had to be bowing to you every second they see you.

You were a powerfull being, truly you knew how big of a power you posessed, but making others your play dolls was never in your intention, even when people higher above you insisted on you having maids and others sorta type

But you knew better than to make the girl regret her words, especially because you felt she knew she was wrong deeply in her heart, and also a bit broken. You walked past her, sparing her just a graceful smile and a kind eye.

Stoic you were indeed, no one would question, they just have been so distant as to not anger you? you suppose, you were confused as to why they feared you, not that you would actually do anything while going to school. You were just a kid after all

~•~

Later in the day, that you basically spent just sitting under a willow tree, contemplating of your life. Where you really that bad? Just a cocky god? A stuck up daddy's girl?

Of course you knew this stupid 'argument' if you could call it that, shouldn't vary of you thinking badly of yourself. You were someone after all. (Even though you didn't want to think like that, you had a life experience of being in the presence of literal gods with gods complex, however stupidly it may sound)

Your life-long session of rethinking your life was cut short, due to a loud thud of a sword crashing with the ground. The same gorgeous girl sat there beside you, scarring you in the process.

"Oh im sorry, I should've asked if I could sit-"

"No no, its okay, its not like I have someone to sit with me in the first place" you snorted placing your head ond your knees wrapped up in your hands "I could use some company, it gets so lonely here."

"I'm sorry, Y/n" the girl placed her hand on your shoulder, you jumped at the sudden touch, scared she quickly took it off. You frowned, missing her soft touch already. "for my friend.."

"It's okay, Chloe."

Yes, you knew her name.

How could you not? she was the captain of the Roar team, you grew to like the swording competitions here, lets say they were entertaining...not just for this one particular blue reason..

"She gets defensive quickly, and looses her temperament even quicker, and she's quite hard to maintain, she didn't meant those words I hope you know, you're like- wait" she stopped her rambling "you know my name?"

"I am a god darling, I know everything" You grinned as she looked away, blushing slightly "But so you know I don't use it to my own advantage, it's not like me to be this 'God' everyone thinks of" you shrugged, hiding deeper in your arms.

"You're actually so nice and wise and nothing alike these rumors, not like-" she began, probably wanting to ramble on again but you cut her off. Even though you would love to just listen to her talk for hours on and on.

"My family?"

"Yes" she took a soft breath in as you looked deeper into her soul.

The wind danced briefly around her curls of hair, brown with a mix of blue, she looked astonishing, Her lightly arched brows and deep dark brown eyes held feelings and thoughts you couldn't quite read.

And did you even want to? You could if you insisted on it,, but these were not your intentions for now. Not ever. You'd love to get to know her thoughts, coming only straight from her blabering cutely mouth.

Her soft, pink, plump lips, parted lightly as she exhaled the air, you admired her every feature.

The blue zip up blouse she wore slightly creasing as she sat in the same position as you, turning her head in the direction of the enchanted lake, Her gaze softening with every second she stared at the view before her, dazed, as almost always when she looked at something she really appreciated.

She looked beautiful. She was beautiful

But even those words were an insult in describing such a masterpiece.

She was a piece of art, a muse, the most precious and fragile exhibit in the museum. She was the moment you wanted to live in forever, take in, tresure. She was more than you'd anticipate heaven to be.

"Could you tell me about them? Y/n?"

The way your name rolled off her tounge so perfectly, so smoothly, almost like it was made for just her to say it.

It made you shiver, although you could not have felt the cold, you did feel the goosebumps on your skin. Nothing has ever made you feel like that. Ever.

"What would you like to know princess Charming?" She was a princess and she certainly was charming, creeping her way to your heart, digging a path through the maze of high walls you put up, just to tumble them down the second she looked into your eyes with that hazed expression. With a smile so bright not even the sun could compare. You could not look away, she trapped you into a trance, her orbs like a big rabbit hole dragging you deeper and deeper in.

"How are they like? Are they even a tiny bit like they are described as? Tyranical? Huge? Terrifying?" she took ahold of your leg, clearly needing some sort of physical touch, like she would die without it. Desperate,feeling like you would dissappear in a second, being just a mist, she had imagined you many times.

"They are not. Not much that I think of" You stated grazing her hand, she deeply inhaled at the sudden touch initiated by you, it hasn't gone unnoticed of course.

You took her ring off as you began playing with it. No protests coming from Chloe, as she just admired how swift you were with it, as swift as the queen of hearts with her deck of cards. She observed. "They are a bit fucked in the head, yes. I mean who would declare a war on their sibling?" You laughed, it was truly funny to you, considering it was not that serious as people might think it was "But, they are also just normal beings"

"My father, the one and only, Zeus, is the best father I could ask for, I might even go as far as to say he is a big plush toy, smiling from ear to ear, with a heart so red of love, a true bear" Chloe laughed loudly, showing her amazingly beautiful white teeth and creased eyes.

She was truly charming, living up to her name.

"Trust me, I know some of it" you both giggled, of course she was a daddys girl too.

"He was always so caring, he would spent every second of the day with me if he could, always showing me the best of both worlds, the mortal and the immortal" you stopped "From the begging he used to say I'm going to take his place at the olympus. He said he just knew i was the right one to carry his great legacy, that I had the power within me, uncomparable to his and those of his siblings" you stopped for a second, throwing a pebble in the water "My brother Hercules gave up on being a god for his love" you stopped again looking high in the sky "A ruler of Olympus could never be with a mortal, thus you have to marry a god, if you want to marry at all"

"But that would mean basically marrying your uncles or cousins, wouldn't it? why would anyone choose to marry their cousin?" Chloe looked confused, you just nodded and sighned.

"If you want to have children, you must marry. But I would nerver do that" you looked at her "I want to be the ruler, I have wanted that since I can recall" a tear fell down your face "But i also want to love"

It was only now she got the hand of your features, she alway admired you but not up this close.

You were truly a god, the soft but strong features confused her, you looked so dazzling at the same time looking like you'd tear her alive if she even was thinking of speaking a wrong word to you. Your eyes darted between the trees and the water of the enchanted lake, throwing pebbles with your hands once in a while. You spoke so smoothly, as opposed to how you carried yourself, your tone of voice was like a melody of million playing harps. Looking into the distance, telling her your life story of how you were the gold stained child, always cherished, always praised, but never too much. About how the gods were truly perfect, perfect parents, nothing alike these she was taught about at school all these years ago. She'd never even excpect some things that came out of your mouth would be the truest of truth a few months ago.

Although she alwas caught you cheering everyone on her tournaments. You never once turned down a sweet treat from Zellie, the sweetest student alive. You were always prepared in class. And you were the nicest person alive. All nothing like the gods described in textbooks.

"I have always wanted to fall in love. I suppose I'm sentenced on hundred years of being by myself" you spoke quietly as another tear fell down the same cheek.

Chloe turned to you, wiping the stain off your cheek, staring at your eyes. Her hand lingered in the same place as if it was glued, only her thumb moved ever so slightly, caressing your skin, almost like a ghost touch. Her little smile prominent. You got lost in her, a full force holding you down, not letting you move as much as an inch, fearing she would let go of you almost instantly. You exhaled sharply as her thumb grazed your lips.

"Would you give up on being a god if i told you I loved you?"

[watercolorfreckles]

The Max - Part 2

Part 1

When Eloise closed the book and set it aside, her heart jumped to find Artisan staring.

She watched the super’s mind tick, his attention picking her apart to expose the soft and squishy pieces of her. High school lab pig dissection came to mind: pliable flesh carved open to be poked at and scrutinized against a cold table.

She’d cried in that class. It had felt cruel to play at scavenger, pecking and probing for a once-living thing's deep and hidden parts as if she were entitled to its most vulnerable insides.

Though she felt more like the pig at that moment, it felt invasive, too, to track the inner workings of Artisan’s terrifying brain.

Eloise couldn’t seem to look away.

Artisan sat up from his resting position on the bed, grabbing at the inhibitor cuff on her wrist. A startled sound choked in her throat, managing not to jerk back on pure prey instinct. Her arm twitched, cagey, in his hold even as the rest of her froze. 

Her bones ached as if aware of how fragile they were.

Then her arm went numb altogether, turning jellied and moldable. Her palm folded in on itself, pliable bones bending grotesque and wrong and– painless.., as Artisan slid the cool curve of metal over her fingers and tossed it away.

Her bones settled back into their original positions and Eloise snatched her hand away as sensation returned, pins and needles tickling her fingertips.

She stared, horrified.

She stared, impressed.

Artisan smiled and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “It’s an interesting story. Though Dracula is a bit simple as an antagonist, don’t you think?”

Eloise blinked. Had the past minute really happened? She glanced at the abandoned cuff on the floor. Her brain floundered to catch up.

“Um. He is singular in his goals and motives,” she managed. “He isn’t portrayed as misunderstood or sympathetic in the original text, just hungry. And spiteful. He wants food, he wants control, and he wants revenge. He is evil, not for solely being different, but for abandoning all human instinct like love and care, even though human emotions–boredom, anger, hunger–are what drive him through the story… He chooses to turn his back on his humanity, to fulfill the role of monster, even though he is capable of more. It would not be evil if he had no soul. His soul humanizes him, but the force of his will strips it away. He is a villain of his own making. I'm not sure that can be simple.”

Artisan hummed. “Do you fancy me that sort of villain?”

Eloise shook her head. Her skin still itched with the phantom touch of his power.

“Dracula wouldn't have helped me.” Her voice sounded very small in her ears. 

“Will you help me with something?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“There are always choices, Eloise. Dracula chose one straight path. I can be more…” He wet his lips. “Flexible. Helps stave off the boredom. I love a good unexpected twist.”

Eloise swallowed. “You think I’m useful. Is that why you’re protecting me? Do you plan to bleed me empty until you're full? Or…to fill me with your own blood until I become what you are? Dracula didn’t turn Mina to keep her safe… He did it to damn her.”

Artisan straightened out his spine to his full seated height. “What would you like me to do with you?”

“It doesn't matter what I want when I can't stop you.”

“I'm asking.”

Eloise tensed as a shout and bang echoed too close for comfort. She snatched a fistful of the supervillain’s sleeve and scrambled instinctively closer. 

When the noise finally subsided, Eloise looked at him. He was watching, letting her cling to him like a frightened puppy. She was practically in his lap.

Eloise let go as if burned. Heat flooded her cheeks. “S-Sorry-”

Artisan was smiling, a sharp curl of lips that sent her stomach swooping. “So which is it? You think me the monster that will bleed you dry or the scary guard dog that will protect you from the rest of them?”

She eyed him, then looked at the floor. “I think you're kinder than you let on.”

Artisan snorted. “I've never been accused of that before.”

“You asked what I want… I want to live. I want out of here, away from the violence and death. I just want to stay safe. I want to take a shower and scrub the blood out of my hair.”

Artisan leaned in. “If you help me escape, I’ll keep you alive.”

Her gaze jumped to him. “Me? How do you think I can help you?”

“Your power,” he replied, the ugly fluorescents catching the blood spots on his collar, “as you so subtly demonstrated, is to blend in. Raise no alarm bells. You can walk right past the firing squad. We can walk right past the firing squad.”

Eloise was already shaking her head. “I told you, it doesn’t always work. I can’t do it reliably on command. Besides–I can’t help a deadly supervillain escape The Max! I’d get thrown straight in here for life! I’m not even a supervillain! I’m barely super!”

Artisan’s eyes glittered, lowering his voice conspiratorily “Hm. You’d rather stay here? Unprotected? Okay. Should I just call the others over, or…?”

He stood from the creaking mattress, taking two steps toward the gaping hole where the door used to be with a teasing eyebrow quirked in her direction.

Eloise leapt to her feet. She skidded on blood-slicked shoes in her panic to grab at Artisan once more. “No-! No. Please.”

Their eyes met. That time, Eloise didn’t let go of the super’s arm.

Which would be worse? Angering Artisan and letting him break her into splintering pieces? Or being thrown to a pack of super-powered wolves? Angry, restless, nothing-to-lose, wolves…

She swallowed. “Please?”

For a moment, the cell fell into a familiar quiet, terse but not particularly uncomfortable.

Artisan turned to face her properly.

“I get you to the exit. You get me past the gunfire. The cameras are down, they’ll have no idea that you helped me. The two of us will slip free with no one the wiser. When they eventually notice us gone, after killing the other idiots who dart out into open fire, they will assume we slipped through the cracks separately. Deal?”

Eloise watched him, nerves buzzing through her body. “I didn’t know you could talk so much,” she said dumbly.

To some, that would be an insult.

Artisan snorted a laugh, clearly caught off guard. “Eloise.”

“What will you do when you’re out?” she asked, more quietly.

If she helped him escape and he went on to keep hurting people, wouldn’t their blood be on her hands?

It wasn’t fair. That would be far too much responsibility to ask of a girl who’d done nothing but do her best to stay on the sidelines, not step on any toes, and serve her time as quickly as possible. She couldn’t truly be expected to sacrifice herself in the name of altruism, could she? She wasn’t a hero. She wanted to go back to being a no-one, someone without the attention of supervillains and regulators of the Powered Peoples Registry.

And yet… she didn’t want people to die because of her choices. She didn’t want any more carnage.

Belatedly, gently, Eloise let go of his arm. Artisan tracked the movement.

“When I’m out..,” he mused, voice returned to the softer, low tone he normally used in the rare moments that he decided to speak, “I will never let them catch me again.”

Eloise’s mouth felt dry. “Business as usual?”

He shrugged. “Until I’ve regrouped. Then, I’ll come back for each and every person who trapped me in this hell hole. Every hero responsible for catching me. Every trigger-happy member of that execution squad outside. And–if any are even left alive–every guard, every staff member here, who ever locked me in this room. Ever kicked my plate of food just out of reach and laughed. Each of them who mocked me and treated me like- like cattle. And every little boot-licking coward here ‘just doing their job’; ‘just here for their paycheck.’ Their excuses for torturing us won’t matter anymore when they’re all broken and bleeding in the same mangled pile, will they?”

Eloise shivered. That sounded like a very, very dire outcome, no matter how much she agreed that the something needed to change.

“And… And me?” Her voice shrank impossibly small and fragile. “I’m staff.”

She imagined herself, a crumple of slimy sinew and shattered bones, piled with the rest of them. 

She picked at the dry skin of her lips–a nervous tic kicked into overdrive–and only stopped when the supervillain pulled her hand away from her mouth where it it began to taste of copper.

Artisan studied her, his expression giving nothing away. The thumb of his free hand smeared the bead of blood away. “No.”

“No?”

“Not you.”

Eloise’s heart squeezed. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to. And I do whatever I want,” he said simply. “Besides. Who will read to me when you’re gone? My right-hand’s voice doesn’t have quite the same effect. His has much more of a droning quality… If he attempts to replace you, I may need earplugs.”

Eloise’s sore lips twitched into a small smile. “If we help each other get out… What happens then? What if they come after me; after us?”

He grinned and it was a sharp thing of silver cutlery and broken glass; of moonlit, gritty alleyways. “We run.”

As a reminder, this story comes from a prompt that was given both to me and to @the-modern-typewriter! She made her series on it first and it is AMAZING! Go check it out on her patreon, it's The Supermax Prison Blues! I'm not in any way trying to copy her (though naturally, some influences might creep in from obsessing over her work!) or compare our work, as she is an absolutely magical writer, and her series is completely her own!

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl , @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl , @lilaccatholic , @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5 , @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1 , @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee , @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan , @mercurymomentum , @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room , @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt, @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

[starry-bi-sky]

more clone^2 thoughts

you know who i just remembered ALSO has long hair? Vlad. Vlad Masters. Danny's worst enemy and biggest pain in the ass ever since he sent those vulture ghosts after his fucking dAD. Danny having long hair would make Vlad so inSUFFERABLE. Like look!! Proof that you are much better off as MY son. We have matching hair lengths! Come be my son! I will make you a halfa like me and we will become powerful allies together!

Danny almost chops it off out of spite. He ends up not doing it because he likes his hair long, actually, very much so and he's not growing it out again just because you're crazy! He's attempted to take a pair of scissors to Vlad's hair though -- THAT was a fight that got ugly. Danny's go-to threat whenever he sees him after that is that he's going to chop off vlad's hair when he's not looking - just you watch, Masters. He'll do it. HE'LL DO IT.

And if Danny wasn't keeping it a tight secret, he'd turn around and taunt Vlad about being a) a clone and b) a clone of BRUCE WAYNE. he'd say stuff like:

"How's it feel knowing my parents cloned a man richer than you"

"you're just mad that bruce wayne is more my dad than you'll ever be!"

"it could've been you that my parents accidentally cloned instead of Wayne, but instead you fucked off for twenty years instead!"

but also its a constant question Danny asks himself how he and no one else ever figured it out sooner that he was a clone. He doesn't understand how Vlad of all people didn't realize it when he went to college with the man with his parents and was also stinking rich, before remembering that he doubts Vlad remembers anyone who wasn't his parents in college, and has been a rich, recluse loser this entire time.

its a good thing though, danny's pretty sure vlad would attempt a hit on the man if he found out out of pure jealousy and indignant rage. And then he'd get his ass beat by Batman and his army of children.

All in all, Dany is a pure menace towards Vlad whenever he gets the chance, as is normal, and then Vlad's suffering gets doubled after he makes Ellie - of which she is even worse than Danny because she's the halfa that Danny Is NOt and thus has the powers to break into his house easy peasy and wreck shit. She steals his obsidian black card and goes on a shopping spree. This is a regular occurrence.

(and for anyone who isn't aware - Ellie is the same age as Danny in clone^2 bc i thought it'd be fun)

And then it gets tripled once Damian joins the family and gets caught up to speed on all of Vlad's tomfoolery and whoops, Damian's got better stealth skills than Danny and looks like Ellie has a partner in crime whenever they need to sneak into vlad's house to cause him grief.

Vlad's walls are the first canvas for Damian to test out his new spray paints on once he gets them :)

next up

Wes weston! i love this guy, he's so funny and he definitely knows danny is the Phantom in the clone^2 au. it's not as easy to figure out as it is in canon since its not just a simple colorswap, but perhaps he sees Danny taking off his mask after a daytime fight. and after that he becomes determined to reveal that quiet, strange fenton is the vigilante phantom.

he's putting some real,,, detectiveness? stalkerish? skills to use because catching photos of phantom is not as easy as it is if he were a halfa. He can't just snap a few dozen photos of fenton and phantom and then color compare the two of them either - Phantom wears a mask, and works primarily at night or in evenings, and typically avoids the living during the day. And he doesn't speak to the living either. Wes has to put in some extra work into his investigations and evidence.

He also makes the dumb mistake of cornering Danny in the bathroom one day early on and telling him he knows he's the Phantom -- now that Danny knows that Wes knows, he's going to be even more careful not to get caught. He puts in a little extra work in both Fenton and Phantom - another layer, perhaps a jacket, as Phantom, and baggier pants and boots he never wears as Fenton. His hood stays up in the daytime.

He was already putting in some extra effort to appear creepy and unsettling as Phantom - things like crouching low, tense movements, fluid movements. If he's perched on something he does a kinda-crawl like movement - think a mix between a bear and a gorilla crawl. It's weird, creepy. And he stares. Danny's mastered the art of not needing to blink for long periods of time, so if he sees you and sticks around he stares. It doesn't help that you can't see his eyes that well through his mask - its just two piercing green.

It helps endear him to ghosts and his enemies though - the annoying little human boy is engaging in ghost culture! That's eliciting some form of begrudging respect from his enemies.

And then compare that creepy, almost cryptid-like behavior to Fenton who, while considered a freak, really isn't anything more than just some dorky weirdo with occasional heart problems. He's kinda unsettling - he has those 'stares into soul' eyes - but its leveled by the fact that he's kinda just... dorky. It reads as normal, awkward kid behavior, and then gets disregarded completely as he gets older and it bleeds into 'very chill teenager'. Fenton being Phantom doesn't compute that much.

Paulina: you think Phantom is Fenton? Wes: I don't think, I know he is! I have proof-- Star: Just because they both have black hair doesn't mean they're the same, Wes. That's like saying Paulina and Manson are sisters because they also have black hair.

Wes's attempts to out him as Phantom means that Danny is a little more wary of him than he is in canon, since his vigilante identity isn't an entirely different ghost form its just him, so he has to be careful about where or when he takes off his mask in case Wes is around. Especially during daytime fights.

But other than that he has a lot of time messing with him. Wes is trying to convince his table group at lunch that Fenton = Phantom (again) and Danny just so happens to be within earshot of him and starts making fun of the idea.

"You think I'm Phantom?" and he's got the most disbelieving grin on his face that's only partially convincing. "That's totally bogus, man. The Phantom famously doesn't get along with my parents, why would I be a ghost hunter and not work with them?"

He has this most shit-eating, delighted look in his eyes that Wes knows is pure manic glee at being able to mess with him and get away with it. Wes is going to strangle him.

"Besides, dude, did you forget I have a heart condition? I can't be chasing around ghosts - my heart would give out from all that running and jumping."

Although Danny can get really serious at the flip of a coin if need be - especially with Wes when he gets too pushy about him being Phantom. A notable instance is when Wes cornered him in an empty bathroom to again talk about him being Phantom.

Except Danny, who had been working on a really difficult cold case about the death of a child, and hadn't gotten much sleep in the last 72 hours, plus a plethora of other stuff (like recently acquiring Damian, fighting ghosts, etc), wasn't in the mood to entertain him. It ended with Weston getting pinned to the wall and lowkey threatened by Danny. He apologizes for it afterwards but it's not forgotten.

Additional note: Wes Weston having a crush on Danny Fenton is a hilarious trope to me so Wes absolutely has a crush on Danny and the only one in denial about it is him. Everyone else - except Danny because he's more focused on the fact that Wes knows his identity, and has other things to worry about - knows about it, and everyone chalks up his obsession with Danny as being part of said crush.

Wes' friend: you know usually when you have a crush on someone you normally confess, maybe ask them out, pine from afar....

Wes: i dont--

Wes's friend: not accuse him of being the local ghost-fighting vigilante. Seriously, wes! His parents are ghost hunters!

Wes: i do not have a crush

Wes's friend: and ghosts aren't real! everyone knows that's a lie!

next up

Dan! Or Dante, but i'll call him Dan for the time being. Even if I dislike the name with a passion. Much like Wrath from my Childhood Friends au, Dan here is pretty different from his canon counterpart. Mostly because I wanted to experiment with Dan and different interpretations of him, and I thought; hey, where no better than an au where Danny has no powers?

so, dan? Dan is not a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost halves -- now, don't get me wrong, danny still ends up under vlad's custody care after the death of his family, but he just doesn't fuse with Vlad's ghost.

So, what happened? What happened is that Vlad convinces a grieving Danny that he should let him make him a halfa (despite the fact that he has no idea how) because the he could go find his family in the ghost zone. Danny is in no mental state for any kind of experiments, but his hope and want to see his family and friends again gets him to agree.

It backfires. Vlad doesn't make Danny a halfa, he just ends up killing him completely. Danny comes back instantly as a ghost however, and enraged over being lied to, betrayed, and murdered, ends up killing Vlad in furious cold blood. He doesn't fuse with his ghost half, there's no ghost half to fuse with.

So a grieving ghost, Danny flees into the ghost zone. And, in this iteration, doesn't end up destroying the world. So how does TUE end up happening? Well, ten years later - with Danny remaining a forever 14 year old ghost - Dan ends up finding out about time travel. He finds out a way to travel back into the past, and he does.

So he can take over his past self's life. Danny just thinks he's fighting a weird doppleganger ghost, but ends up getting overshadowed. It's like being in a weird limbo, and Danny's not really sure what's happening - but his friends figure something out. After all, its been ten years since dan saw his friends, something has to give.

And that episode happens. Danny ends up meeting clockworth, beats Dan. But, well, it's not really happily ever after - somewhat. Ehh.. sorta. Danny's been traumatized by Dan's overshadowing - making him realize that despite everything, there are things ghosts can do that danny simply cannot and he needs to prepare for it. Onset paranoia, anyone?

Dan tells them his whole tragic backstory - there's a chance for redemption here, for him. For forgiveness. Not immediately, not yet, but its there. And he doesn't want to go back to the future - he's alone there. He's tired of being alone.

But he ends up being convinced - he needs to learn to look forward, not cling back. He can build himself up again, find new family. He doesn't have to be alone. So Dan goes back to the future.

"But come tell me if Vlad's giving you trouble --" and he smiles something wicked, "I'd be happy to handle him again"

and finally

not so much as any concrete thoughts as it is just me being emotional over Danny and Damian's brotherhood in this au and also Danny's hands. Again.

lIKE.. I put it in the tags of my reblog of my "danny's scarred hands' ficlet but im putting it here and its just?? Danny grabbing the blade of Damian's sword. Him grabbing the sword multiple times despite the fact that he knows it will hurt, that he will hurt himself. That he will keep hurting himself until Damian himself stops.

its just like??? whats it mean to spill your own blood just so that this little boy you've just met won’t have to ever again. he doesn't know any english and he is hurting you and yet you take him home and get him new clothes. he runs away and you go looking for him, every single time. you teach yourself arabic first so that you can converse with him.

this boy is a clone and so are you. you're a clone of his father he's a clone of your son - by nature of your existence this is your child. except its not your child, you don't have one, its just a little boy who happens to share the same dna as you. and you take him home and he becomes your little brother.

what's it mean when its you whose been hurt rather than him? whats it mean when you’d hurt yourself again just so that he can start to heal, so that he knows that he’s worth it? you cut your hands on his blade, catch its swing, just so this boy can know, can learn, that there’s someone who will bleed for him. that there's someone who will scar their hands just to make sure that you wont scar yours.

you’re a bleeding heart and its spilling out onto your palms. you take bloody fingers and wrap it around your little brother’s and say "its okay. it’s okay. you’re safe. no one will hurt you here. i promise. i wont let them. no one will hurt you so long as i'm around."

"put the sword down. i can show you how. let me show you how."

and damian in this au just reminds me of the song "eight" by sleeping at last. like?? the lYRICS. he is sO "eight" coded

'show me how to lay my sword down for long enough to let you through.' 'here i am. pry me open. what do you want to know?' 'im just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut and bury my innocence' 'but here's a map. here's a shovel. here's my achilles' heel. im all in palms out. im at your mercy now and im ready to begin. i am strong enough to let you in.'

"by nature of our existence we are father and son, but by choice we are brothers. we are brothers we are brothers we are brothers. and i love you"

[alpydk]

Consequences

Gale x Tav (F)

I don't know what this brought on. Lunar Eclipse I'm blaming (Even if there's not been one. Or Chapter 88 from @auroraesmeraldarose) - If you've not read it, go now and do so. It's filth. Purely amazing filth.

Tav slept with Mizora, Gale left as we all know. Hate sex ensues at the epilogue party. That's it.

Word Count - 4,271 - CW - Smut, hair pulling, dom Gale, lots of catty arguing.

The fire crackled softly as the party goers mingled, catching up on the previous six months of gossip and adventures. Shadowheart absent mindedly stroked the white fur of Scratch as he begged for the roasted lamb upon the table, Wyll and Karlach skulked off rather quickly together with a couple of bottles of Purple Dragon Blush in hand, and Astarion wished his own glass would refill quicker as he listened to the long-winded explanations of portal travel from Gale. None dared mention the one member of their group who had not appeared despite being their leader.

“She’s probably not coming, love,” spoke Astarion as he noticed Gale’s head once again whip around as if searching for something.

They’d all known of the tumultuous end to Gale and Tav’s relationship, the argument turned to fight in the early hours of the morning, plates being thrown, insults hurled in pure anger. It wasn’t the most lively the Elfsong Tavern had ever been, but nearly all inhabitants spoke for weeks afterwards of the shouting and the reckless acts of the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, of tables destroyed under sparks of lightning, of the rain of arrows piercing the scarlet curtains as she’d stormed out of the premises. If it hadn’t been for the tadpole, she probably would have left for good.

None of the small party of adventurers had ever seen Gale lose his temper to such an extreme, his heart broken and then crushed with such little regard, and it had taken Shadowheart many an hour to calm him down after Tav had walked out of the tavern. He’d alternated between long rants about the audacity of what she’d said and done, and a simmering quiet as he plotted what he’d do when she next appeared. They didn’t know which was the more problematic to handle.

After Tav’s return, the arguments had continued, carrying on even throughout the upcoming battles, only now they had involved bitter sniping at one another. You expect me to take it lying down? That’s much more your style. Only because of your baggage at being dominated. They’d shared so many secrets between each other, but all this had done was provide ammunition to fire, just a constant barrage of spite and venom cutting in deeper than any blade.

“No idea what you are talking about,” Gale replied, his head lowering as he’d been caught in the act. He knew he was on guard for her, his plan of taking the high ground falling apart with the passing seconds. He was going to ignore her mostly, show that she hadn’t wounded him at all, that he was now a successful professor in Waterdeep despite her actions.

Astarion let out a light scoff and smirked. “Of course you don’t. So, the fancy clothing and manicure were meant for me instead, yes?”

“You, of all people, should understand the benefits of self-care.”

“Hm, you’d be right there, but I also know the effects those acts have on others.”

Gale rose his glass to his lips, a fleeting thought going through his mind that maybe he had done all this with her in mind. He hated her, though, for what she had done, how she had ripped out his heart and left him to once again pick up the shattered pieces of the little self-esteem he’d had left. All because of one night… “Well, my intentions were purely self-indulgent for once. After everything, I think I deserved a little pampering.”

“Have you even spoken to her since the docks?”

It was so easy to lie and say he hadn’t seen a thing of her since they’d parted ways that afternoon. However, their paths had crossed a couple of times since, once before he had left the city where they’d picked up their argument from where they’d left it in the tavern, and again in Waterdeep where he’d come across her in the markets. Their second interaction had been less intense, but instead came with it the icy chill of two people who loathed the presence of each other. Comments had again been spoken in anger but without the fury of earlier, both holding their cards close to their chest to not reveal to the other how things were in truth.

“I’ve been far too busy to have involvements with the likes of her.” Gale spat the last words out with disdain, the image of her in his mind as he’d left her near the stalls during that rainy day reminding him of the deeply buried anger.

The remark was met with a soft chuckle. “So catty. And I never thought you had it in you.”

“Then you clearly don’t know him well enough.”

The female voice caused both Gale and Astarion to lift their heads in attention. Tav stood observing them both and neither knew how long she had been there listening to the conversation. The leather armour they’d once known to wear had been replaced with a short scarlet dress, her long ebony hair braided back loosely, allowing wisps of hair to hang over her pale skin. Her dark eyes still burned with the anger of months past, and Gale lowered his head to avoid her scornful gaze.

Astarion was the first to raise his glass, welcoming his old friend. “My dagger-happy friend! We didn’t think you were ever going to grace us with your presence.”

She glanced over briefly at Gale before turning to Astarion and giving him a very intentionally close hug. “You know me. Love to make a fashionable entrance.”

“Or just like to make a show for attention…”

The comment was mumbled from Gale’s direction, but there was no acknowledgement of it. Astarion glanced nervously between the couple before letting go of Tav and grabbing a nearby bottle of wine. “I’ll just be catching up with Wyll…”

“But I’ve only just got here.”

“Yes, and we’ll have plenty of time to speak more intimately later. Especially if you catch up with us drinks-wise.” He gave Tav a wink before, in her opinion, scarpering from the scene, leaving her and Gale alone.

She was unsure what to say as she watched him lift his glass, finding it empty. “You look well.”

“As do you.”

---

Near the stalls of Waterdeep, Tav had bashed into him first, his books falling to the floor and the pages taking in each fresh raindrop with ease. Gale had initially apologised for colliding with her, but as he’d realised who he was dealing with, the response quickly turned to aggression.

“Still as perceptive as a drunk Gelatinous Cube,” he jabbed, collecting the tomes from the puddles and trying to get as much water from them as possible. He knew a few spells would be wasted repairing the pages as he reached his tower, but it was still another easily avoidable annoyance.

She scoffed, nudging a book away from him with the damp leather of her boot. “Or maybe just a little payback for your comments three months ago.”

“Payback!?” he exhaled. “By destroying valuable literature? How petty and childish, but then again, I should expect that of you by now.”

“Oh well, run home to Mummy Dekarios. I’m sure she’ll kiss your boo boo better.”

“At least I have a family, and not just the blood of the murderous god Bhaal flowing through my veins.” He knew these were not the best words to bait her with, elegance and articulacy abandoning him knowing her Bhaalist past would provoke her. Yes, she had renounced her father, but it was a straightforward attack and one she deserved.

The heat rose in her cheeks, and she gritted her teeth, trying to push down the knee jerk reaction she wanted to have. She would not respond as she had before in violence. He wasn’t worth the effort. “Better blood than whatever you pumped into your cuntish goddess.”

Just as they had last time, the situation escalated. Market goers ran past to escape the rain, but the two once lovers stood glaring at one another, each refusing to back down. At one point, they may have been able to discuss what happened, how Mizora had got involved, how the art of seduction had been enough to destroy what some had seen as true love, but now there was nothing but hurt and pain. Gale had refused to listen to reason, Tav’s guilt had resulted in attacks to protect herself, and neither wanted to apologise for the further damage they were causing.

Her words were biting, but they were nothing he hadn’t heard before. Mystra, the orb, his mistakes, social skills, any imperfection she could find, she had thrown at him, and he had done the same in return: Bhaal, alcohol imbibition, lack of education, poor literacy knowledge (what moron did not know of Storm Silverhand!?).

“What? Cat- “ The word rolled off her tongue in mockery “-got your tongue? It would certainly be a first.”

“I’m simply astounded that, despite our parting, you still feel that you could rival a goddess such as Mystra.”

“Not exactly a high bar to reach. Especially if she was interested in you.”

Lightning crackled in the distance as the storm worsened and with it, the skies rumbled as if reflecting the scorn both shared. The rain grew heavier, Tav shivering a little and trying to hide the regret of having chosen the thinner cloak for her outing. Gale noticed and tried to ignore the whisper of concern in the back of his mind. He’d give her none of it.

He didn’t want her to have the last word in this argument as she’d had back in Baldur’s Gate when her arrows had destroyed the bar and his lightning had destroyed the tables. Despite what had happened, they would both at least avoid that outcome. A devilish smirk appeared on his face, his hand giving a gentle flick beneath his moistened robes. “As much as I love to partake in your infantile game of insults, I do actually have somewhere else to be.” He pushed past her, purposefully shoving her shoulder, books in hand, waiting for her realisation at what he had done.

Tav stood, taking the full impact of his body against her arm. She wanted to shout at him, wanted to call him back to finish things properly rather than letting him run away like a coward yet again, but her body would not move. She knew when she’d tried to cut him off exactly what he had done. The fucking wizard with his spells again.

---

The hours had passed in a stony silence as the party continued. Tav had wandered her way around the old campsite, chatting with everyone and finding out what had gone on in the last six months. She’d almost punted Tara on getting hissed at, but knew the tressym had a lot more than just sharp claws and sharper words. Avoiding Gale had been her primary aim for the evening. Her secondary one had been to show how she was over him now, telling of how in the last six months she had continued to adventure, saving lives and being a hero. She’d hadn’t secluded herself to a tower or changed her name in an attempt to reinvent herself.

He tried to ignore her not-so-subtle digs at what he had been up to, his own attempts at one-upmanship being heard by Shadowheart and the rest of the company. Eventually, though, he’d ended up in the company of Tara, who was quick to give her own opinions on his ex.

“You certainly avoided disaster with that one.”

He huffed at her words. Hearing the opinions from others still did not come as he wanted them to. It was one thing for him to throw insults after all he’d been through; it was another for someone else to say them. Part of him wanted to defend to Tav, but he knew it would fall on death ears, and so he simply nodded, keeping his eyes forward and listening for anything that would drag him away from how uncomfortable he was becoming.

As the stars gathered in the sky and the campfire died down, people slowly excused themselves, leaving Tav and Gale alone at the table. Bottles of wine had been emptied, and both felt the warmth in their bodies, their tongues loosened and ready for another round of contention.

Tav glowered across the empty plates, seeing the way Gale’s eyes reflected the dying embers of the fire, noticing how a few more silver strands of hair had grown since her last meeting with him.

“I’m guessing your father never taught you it was inappropriate to stare,” he said without looking at her.

She looked at her empty glass, deciding if it was worth pouring another. She could feel the slight sway in her upper body, the heat in under skin, one she had blamed on anger rather than alcohol. “And I’m guessing Mystra taught you all about ignoring people.”

Gale glanced over at her, thankful for the table separating them. “Not ignoring, simply no longer interacting with those beneath me.”

“I seem to remember you preferring me beneath you.”

“And I seem to remember you not caring what position you were in. Or who you were in that position with.”

Tav was quick to rise to her feet, her palms resting on the table, partly for support, and partly to emphasise her annoyance at his comments. “Oh, like you would have resisted any better, Mr. I’ll fuck anything that shows me a little bit of positive reinforcement.”

He rose to his own feet, his voice increasing with anger. As everyone else had left, there was little reason to hold back any reason and logic. “I only wanted you! I only ever wanted you!”

“Clearly not! You were so quick to throw it away.” She made her way around the table, her dress catching on the off splinter and causing her to tug it in anger and her voice to become more spiteful. “You threw me away just as She did.” 

As she approached Gale, he tensed up, but he would not show any weakness to her. Not now, not after the months had passed, and he’d worked to move on. He’d picked up all his pieces, and he refused to have her break him again. “Threw you away? No, I just made you face the consequences of your actions.”

She stopped in front of him, backing him into the table, her chest touching his. She could smell the hint of wine on his breath, feel the heat of his body emanating and merging with her own. It had been so long since she had been this close to him, his lilac embroidered suit he’d chosen, complimenting the colour of his skin. He still smelt of the ink and parchment of his library, as he’d done all those months ago when they had travelled together, and she wondered if time had caused it to be buried into his pores.

“Because after all you did, you’re such an expert when it comes to outrageous consequences. I’m surprised you’ve not been reading up on how to shove an orb in my chest,” she bitterly replied.

“You’re simply not worth the waste of magical artefacts.”

The two stared at each other, refusing to be the one to back down. With its last flames extinguished, the fire left only the glow of the enchanted lights that encircled the campsite upon them. The musical entertainment had died out hours ago, and now all Tav could hear was the sound of their breaths mingling in the air and the river flowing in the near distance. She’d ran out of the stronger insults with him, wine and rage clouding her judgement of the situation. There were only so many times she could bring up Mystra or his folly before resulting in petty remarks about his behaviour or manhood. Now would be one of those moments. “You reek of your library.”

Gale did not hesitate in his reply. “You’ve put on weight.” It was true what he said, but he would not tell her it suited her, that the way her thighs looked in her dress had fanned the old flames within him almost immediately. Her body close to his, the heat between them, the adrenaline flowing through his veins as it always did in her presence made his heart pound and as much as he despised it, he wanted her.

Tav’s voice caught in her throat with the inane comment. Anger burned within her, his remark creating a whirlwind of emotions. A part of her wanted to laugh in his face, another wished she had brought her bow to the reunion, but his proximity clouded her judgement. She wanted to give him back that same pointless surface level snark he’d retorted with, but as she saw the intensity in his eyes, saw the soft curve of his lips, she knew there was little she could do than fall into her desires.

His lips hit hers with a burning passion, his hands gripped to the sides of her face, his fingertips weaving between her black hair. He pushed her forward slightly with the intensity, feeling the way her mouth responded in kind to his, her tongue dancing with his in a need to make up for lost time. Feeling his body react to hers so forcefully, he slid his hands down to her hips, gripping her tightly against him and turning them both quickly so she was backed to the table. “Tav…”

“Shut up.” She could feel the heat of his body rising as he pushed into her, her scarlet dress riding up over her hips under the force of his wanted movements against her. There was little to argue about further, only the desperate touch starved grabs at his tunic as she tried to gain better access to the flesh beneath.

With his mouth still drawn to hers, he batted her hands away as she fumbled with the ties. Both knew there was little want for the intimacy of old, there was only the raw, intense desire fuelled by fury and wine that drove them forward. Removing his lips from hers, he took in the sight of her before him, lust blazing in her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and body aroused. Gale’s hands remained firmly on her hips, and he turned her from him, bending her chest first onto the table. Glasses topped around her, and he heard her softly groan as the oak met her hands.

He ran his fingers up the tender flesh of the inside of her thighs, listening for the sigh she had given in the past. He knew she was resisting, but it came eventually as his hand reached the hem of her skirt. “I didn’t lie when I said you’d put on weight.”

“Fuck you,” she growled, backing her behind with wanting into the hardened erection that lay hidden underneath the leather of his trousers.  

“As you wish.”

He put Tav in her place with a clothed thrust, hearing her sudden moan with the impact. Little time was wasted as he hoisted her skirt up over her hips, taking in the sight of her filled out buttocks before him, the small black lingerie leaving little to his imagination of what lay beneath. He ran his fingertips over the material, working his way from back to front and feeling the way she arched into the feeling of his hand.

She looked over her shoulder at him, an annoyance in her eyes. “I’m not a glass of wine. Get on with it,” she barked.

Gale took this command as another excuse to toy with her, drawing his body back slightly from hers, releasing his grasp on her and watching as her irritation turned briefly to neediness. “Surely you can ask nicely, or did the cambion take your manners too?”

 “You’re under the assumption I had manners to begin with.”

“Then maybe it is time I introduce you to what I’ve been partaking in the last few months and teach you.”

He drew himself forward, one hand working at the buckles of his trousers, the other sliding the underwear from her hips before him. She averted her eyes from him, her palms outstretched on the table. He could see her ebony braid lying upon the scarlet fabric of her dress, and he remembered nights of his hands entwined in her hair in a gentle caress. This would not be one of those nights. “Now, my dear Tav. Say please.”

She scoffed at his words. “Fuck you.”

The hand on her hip came up and gripped the end of the braid, tugging it to make her aware of his intentions. He positioned his cock at her entrance, teasing her as she tried to back up onto him. “I apologise. I do believe I misheard you.”

Looking at the silver plates and empty bottles before them, she smirked. She could feel the longing building within her before he’d even began his lesson. After Mizora, Tav had not been with anyone else, and the guilt she had felt from her own folly had kept her from even attempting to trying to bed someone. Showing this desperation would not happen, though. She’d drag it out for as long as her body could hold out. Her words were slow, intentional, baiting. “Fuck. You.”

Gale pulled her hair with a sharp yank and, in doing so, pushed into her in one quick thrust. The sharp noise she made was muffled quickly with her hand, as she refused to give him any satisfaction. He lazily pulled himself out, watching as her body relaxed, returning himself to the teasing position once again. “Does the student still protest?”

It took her a moment to compose herself, not expecting him to take charge in the way he had. He’d always been soft with her, worshiping her as if she were a goddess, touching her softly and tenderly. This was a fresh experience, one she welcomed after all that had gone on between them. “For as long as I lie here unsatisfied, yes.”

She could not see him, but she knew he would be grinning at the idea of the control he had over her. She felt the sharp tug of her hair, the deep thrust that filled her, causing her to release an uncharacteristic whimper. “Fuck…” she whispered as she felt him retreat again, sliding over her clit in the process.

His throbbing could not be ignored as he pulled out the second time and he tried to keep his mind focussed, not on what he needed but on the words he spoke. As one hand remained on the braid, the other returned to her hip, his fingernails pressing into her side to keep him grounded. The control remained in his voice, a slow purr of the words. “Unsatisfied? Is that why you ran to her so eagerly?”

“Better to her than Mystra.” she whined, feeling his cock twitch against her. Her mind was clouded with yearning, her composure escaping her as body hungered for release. “Just as you planned to.”

He gave another quick thrust, but this time did not relent as he had before. His hand remained with the braid now wrapped around it, a rein in which to keep her head held high and her back arched. Her side of the story had finally been understood, her fear that she would lose him driving her to the cambion, the one who'd lured her with promises of what could be. Gale buried himself inside Tav, feeling her walls contract around him as she neared a long-awaited climax, his muscles tightening with each pleasured cry she gave out. His own grunts broke free, and he felt as he began to lose all the composure he’d once held onto.

 “…I…I’m so…” Tav stammered

“No.”

She opened her eyes in shock as he denied her, at how selfish he was being with her needs, at how good it felt to hear. “Please…” she begged weakly.

Her words were driving him mad, each thrust becoming shorter and more instinctive as her hips arched into him and the pressure grew. He knew he was close, all resolve breaking with each panted breath. “No.” It was the only word he could manage as his mind became lost in the sensation, his hand clasping her hip tighter, his body trembling as he refused to let go.

“Gale…please...” she repeated in a needy whimper over and over, her voice growing higher with each jolt of his body into hers.  

His name on her pleading lips was all it took to push him over the edge, spilling himself into her fully, feeling as she let go of her own self-control, clenching around him tightly and letting out a lustful cry. Bending over her, he felt her back upon his tunic, his warm palms brought down to the table to help support him as he gasped for air above her. Heated kisses were placed over her shoulder and without realising his thumb had hooked over her pinkie finger, a light stroking of contentment shared with her momentarily.

---

They lay for some time in postcoital bliss, neither speaking of what had happened nor what was to come. Despite the anger, the hurt, the cruel words spoken between each other, they still loved one another, but whether things could ever be repaired between them, neither knew. For now, all they had was this one night, one under stars and enchanted lights, amongst scattered plates and drained bottles. Talking could come later.

[abbysdruidess]

•._.••¯´´•.¸¸.•headcanons about married life with abby [w nsfw]•._.••¯´´•.¸¸.•

wc: 1.1k

tags: tooth rotting fluff, smut, dom!Abby, dom/sub dynamics mentioned

a/n: lmk what you guys think abt this one:)

this is kinda in the same universe along with the abby proposes to you and wedding hcs, so if you haven't you could check them out-though this one could also be read as a standalone<3

ꜱꜰᴡ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

❦ you guys put a lot of work into your little dreamhouse™️ and are extremely proud of it. As an out and about lesbian, Abby took up a woodworking project and built a library that fits right into the wall of your living room. Which you were extremely supporting of, because it gave you the lovely opportunity to ogle your wife in a tank top and work pants, huffing, red faced and wiping sweat from her forehead in your backyard. You set an alarm and every couple of hours you bring her some cool water or lemonade with fruit and brush some locks of hair out of her dewy face<3

❦ she's also one of these people that don't believe in bringing in a handyman to fix any faulty appliance in your household. She has a huge, neon yellow tool box stashed away somewhere(you still aren't sure exactly where) that magically reappears everytime your car won't start or the air-conditioner starts making a noise. And 90% of the time Abby gets the job done, running on pure willpower and spite alone. When she doesn't and you guys have to bring someone else to do it, she just goes "Pfft, I could have totally done that. I just didn't cause I thought I might break it.". "Of course honey", you reassure her with a kiss on the cheek. You don't have her saved in your phone with an image of Bob the Builder for nothing.

❦ you guys are over at her dad's place a lot. When you were looking for a house, you made sure to get a place near his so you could visit whenever. He has a photo of you two from the wedding in his mantlepiece making the goofiest faces imaginable and every single time you visit Abby pesters him to take it down while you shit yourself laughing in the background.

❦ also, when your step-siblings Yara and Lev join, it's absolute chaos. You guys probably end up having an impromptu food fight and flick celery sticks at each other.

❦ if you have any hobbies such as knitting/playing instruments/writing etc she's fullly behind them and will always ask you to show her your progress. She's pretty proud of it as well, and smiles a little excitedly like :D

❦ please sing to her. It doesn't matter if you haven't sang a day in your life and it sounds like tires screeching on asphalt, it calms her when her baby sings to her. Will think you have the voice of a choir of angels no matter what and it is the only thing that can effectively put her to sleep. Bonus points if you play the guitar as well.

❦ Abby is really into reading(probably why she got that library built in the first place) and has one permanently etched in her night stand. She strikes me as one of these people that is a fan of the classics and doesn't read anyone that came after Hemingway. Until for her 26th birthday someone gifts her books from like Stephen King or Alison Bechdel and initially she's hesitant but eventually they grow into her and are stationed into her Hall of Fame shelf.

❦ whenever either of you is sick, you insist to pamper and care for one another. During the winter months Abs has a cold or the flu every month or so, and you have to actually fight her to take the day off and rest.

-Baby, you burning up. If you go to work you'll just get worse.

-I'm *cough* fine. I honestly feels 10 years younger. I don't get what the big deal is.

❦ you two definitely exercise together. Either you always go to the gym together-although you're not there as often as she is. Abby exercises religiously 5 times a week and that exercise will take place with or without you, but she would be damned if she didn't love when you tagged along with her. Either you guys have set up a little home gym with some basic equipment like mats, a treadmill, these bouncy balls and a weight lifting bench. Of course, you spot her, because you will take up any offer to ogle at her putting those big, powerful guns she calls arms to work. She reciprocates by insisting to hold your thighs while you do sit ups. And she inevitably ends up squeezing them like balls of dough.

ɴꜱꜰᴡ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

❦ when you first met Abby in your early 20s, you though it was natural for a woman her age to have such a heightened libido. After all, she did get around a lot for someone that looked like her. And that instict to fuck you senseless never abandons her-Abby is in a constant state of Wanting to Fuck, and is game whenever you are.

❦ Your sexcapades have included(but are not limited to): empty libraries, locker room showers, back alleys of clubs and just about any sturdy furniture in your house.

❦ she is a total beast when it comes to lovemaking, and can go anywhere from 2 hours to all night long, although most sessions end when you tap out bc you know you'll be sore tomorrow.

❦ even though everyone knows you're Mrs and Mrs from the ring on your finger, Abby wants to reassure that, by marking you as hers. Hickies, bites, anything is game. And she loves the slight sting of the scratch marks you leave her when she hops in the shower the morning after. She calls them claw marks affectionately.

❦ Loooves strapping you to positions she can utilise her muscle strength, like flatiron or missionary with her arms propped up. When you're scissoring, she wants to be the one with her legs on top, grinding her pussy into yours like it's nothing.

❦ I think Abby has this very hard dom image, and while she wants to take over during sex and feel like the one in control, she also needs to be taken care of. She works hard from day to night, and her past partners haven't been exactly accommodating to her needs. So whenever she's particularly exhausted, crawl under the covers to give her some head. Or in the shower. Or in the couch. Or under the dining table. She definitely cums fast when you suck her clit, it gets extremely sensitive and swollen while you're in between her legs.

❦ Is an occasional squirter, and also loves to make you squirt. It happened once as you were riding her face, and she just. slurped it all up. You lowkey passed out on the spot as your knees almost gave up.

❦ cuddling with her afterwards. There's still some resounding bliss in the air, as you both treasure the moment, your limbs all tangled up. You leave small kisses all over her sternum as she tightens her grip around you. If you're too exhausted, you fall asleep immediately, if not you just glance at each other through heavy lids with lovestruck eyes. You sleep like a baby and wake up feeling as refreshed as ever.

send me an ask if you guys would like me to elaborate any of these<3

[oneforthemunny]

ain't no sunshine |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader| part 4

prompt: eddie comes to talk to you about your relationship. 

age gap. everything is consensual. reader is 25/26 and Eddie is 42. if this isn't your thing, then please just don't read.

this one's a little nasty, so minors DNI plz.

contains: age gap, language, fingering, older! eddie, Eddie is a little mean and rough, thigh riding, p in v sex, dilf! eddie, all consensual, little angsty but gets better, aftercare at the end

She'll get over it, he'd said, just needs some time.

That was a week ago. Five days, technically, but long enough to have you heard swirling all day with thoughts- angry, mean, self degrading thoughts.

Madeline hadn't talked to you either, isolating you out of pure spite. It only amplified your guilt even more. You didn't want to hurt her, or fuck up her friendship, or anything. All you wanted was to be with Eddie. It wasn't expected, sure, but he made you happy. So, so happy. 

You'd texted him twice since he'd talked to you on the phone, the following Sunday after. He'd replied once, one short text. You tried to rationalize that he had Brielle right now. He probably was focused on her, she was his daughter and she was pissed. Plus, he wasn't the best texter anyways. Slow responses that he squinted to see- he refused to admit he needed glasses- punching in the letters with his large finger.

Large fingers that belonged in you.

Your legs clamped together, shaking your head as you went back to cutting out the construction paper. You couldn't think about that right now. Not when you had to cut out twenty round 'lion heads' for next weeks science lesson.

Still your mind wandered. You missed the way Eddie would greet you on days like today, leaning against your apartment door or his own front door, grinning. Sometimes he'd still be in his coveralls. It drove you wild.

A sharp knock at the door had your eyes snapping open, looking at the half cut circle in front of you. You set it down, slipping to the front door and looking out the peep hole.

A familiar head of curls and a utility jacket stood there. Your heart raced, trembling hands turning the knob. Opening the door, you looked at Eddie, eyes wide and hopeful. He gave a small smile, not his usual grin.

"Hey, sweetheart." He sounded tired. "Can we talk?"

You felt your heart plummet, sinking deep, deep into your chest. Here it comes. The end.

You didn't trust your voice, swallowing the bubble of tears that threatened to spill out of your chest, moving to the side. He wiped his boots, heavy and steel toed, on your mat, smirking at the little expression it said. The first time he'd saw it, he'd called it 'cute'. Not today.

You watched him stroll slowly towards the living room, hands in his pocket, shoulders tense. You shut the door, following him slowly, carefully.

"Looks like you've been busy." Eddie grinned, looking down at the paper parts you had spread across your coffee table.

You nodded, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. "Yeah. Science lesson next week. Big one. We're talking about mammals."

Eddie gave a small laugh, eyes crinkling and shining towards you. The warmth in the glance soothed you, made your shoulder drop slightly. He sat in your arm chair, teal and velvet.

"I, um," Eddie looked down at his hands, knee bouncing. "Brie's real pissed." He started, looking up at you, eyes saddened. Your heart ached. "She... she's just worried that things with your sister will be different, and they're real good friends, ya know? I know where she's comin' from honestly..." He muttered, looking down at his hands.

You could feel it coming. The tears. Every word he said inched closer to it. The inevitable break off.

Eddie sighed, running a hand down his face. "I really like you, I do. I just..."

"I like you, too." You squeaked.

His face softened as he met your gaze. "I don't wanna stop seeing you." He admitted. "I don't really date. I never wanted Brie to go through meeting someone and getting attached, then being disappointed if they left."

You took a shaky breath in. "Are you breaking up with me?" You spat, eyes narrowed, lip wobbling to hold back tears. Eddie's face dropped.

"If you're gonna do it, just do it. Quit fucking around and just say it." You hissed, angry tears streaming down your face. You turned, wiping them frantically, shielding yourself from his view.

Eddie faltered, standing slowly. "Sweetheart, I..." His breath caught, seeing the shake in your shoulders as you held back a sob. "I don't want to stop seeing you."

You huffed, angry. Angry at him, at yourself, at everything. "Then what do you want?" You snapped. "Why are you here? To break up with me."

"You know, sometimes adults can just talk." Eddie snapped back, jaw clenching. "Maybe you're a little too young to realize that."

You turned, teeth gritting and eyes shining with tears. Possessed, angry, fuming, you smacked your hand on his shoulder, shoving into his chest roughly. "Fuck you!" You screamed. "You started this!"

"You agreed to go out with me. You were the one who kissed me in the parking lot, sweetheart." Eddie snapped, eyes narrowing. You shoved him again, his hand catching your arm lightly before you could. Not harsh, just enough to stop you.

Your chest heaved and his did the same, glaring down at you down the slope of his nose. You hated the way it made you throb, aching and slick between your legs.

Eddie made the first move, his hand dropping your wrist and cupping your jaw, lips on your. Teeth clashing, lips biting and pulling, spits of click and huffs filled the room. He pushed you on the couch, big hands on your wrists, pinning them above your head.

His lips traveled down your neck, stubble leaving a scratchy rash down your décolleté. "I've been thinkin' about you all week, baby." Eddie muttered against the skin of your neck, tongue sliding over the spot that made your back arch off the couch when he sucked it.

He moved his thigh, thick and strong, in between your legs, smirking at the way your ground down onto him through your sweatpants, desperate for any sort of friction. "This is all ya needed, huh?" Eddie smirked, pressing his thigh harder against your core. "That's why you're havin' such a fit, huh? Why you're actin' like such a little baby?"

The word did something to you. Maybe it was the way he said it, teeth baring in just the right way, eyes darkening to look down at you. You mewled, a little whine escaping your lips as you fought against his hand. This was new. Eddie hadn't been this way with you before, and you loved it.

"You're the one who wanted to talk." You snapped, eyes glaring at his but you hadn't stopped circling your hips to press down onto his thigh. "Doesn't seem like we're talking." You snipped.

Eddie growled, low and deep in the back of his throat, but you could feel his growing erection on lower belly. "Shut up." Eddie growled, one hand pinning your hands while the other yanked down your sweats. "You didn't want to talk earlier, so now you don't get to talk at all. Got it?"

Eddie looked down, practically drooling at the sight of your pussy. Glistening, puffy, and so ready for him, all for him. Eddie ran a hand down your folds, a shiver spilling down your spine. He circled your sopping hole, squeezing a finger in to the knuckle, reveling in the way you moaned and arched off the couch.

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing slow circle just the way you liked- the way that had you succumbing to him. Obedient and eager to do anything he said; take anything he gave you. It had only been a few weeks, but he knew so much about you already.

"You want to throw a little fit, huh? Actin' like a real brat. Didn't even try to listen to me." Eddie growled, pulling himself out of his jeans and boxers, adjusting them so they hung on his thighs. He bit back a smirk as you squirmed at the word. "Guess I'll have to put you in your place. Get you all fucked out so you'll actually listen, huh? Want me to show you what happens to brats?"

You nodded, tongue feeling swollen and thick in your mouth. You were so desperate to cum, and the way he was working his fingers on you had you so close anyways. Your toes curled when his finger curled, squishing the spot deep in you that made you cry out.

You were so close, you could feel it. The climb, inching closer and closer while his thumb circled you, not slowing up because he knew better- knew to get you there like this.

Then it stopped.

Eddie pulled out, leaving you breathy and eyes snapping open. Your mouth hung open, giving him an accusing look. He always let you cum first, to get you ready, he'd told you.

Eddie grinned, dimples deep and malicious. "Oh, did you think you'd get to cum?" He asked, mocking and slow. You pouted back, nodding desperately. "Oh, no, no, no, baby. You can't act like that and think you'll get rewarded."

You wanted to cry again, for a different reason this time. Eddie pumped himself, looking at you through thick lashes. "You wanna cum?" He asked. You nodded. He nodded down towards his dick.

"You better make it up to me then." He hummed, tip already leaking. "Show me you can be a good girl instead of a little mean, whiney baby."

***

You had more than made it up to him. Sucking him off until your jaw locked and he spilled down your throat, tattooed hands in your hair. He'd rewarded you by letting you get off on his thigh, first, then his fingers, and ending with plowing you over the arm of the couch, gripping your waist so hard you knew you'd have bruises.

Now, you were laying on the living room floor. Eddie had put a pillow under his back, sure it would be sore tomorrow- he already had such a bad back as it was. You curled into his chest, lids heavy and brain foggy. You were playing with the hair by his temples, where his hair was greying.

Eddie's hand ran up and down your back, soft and slow; an apology or maybe a comfort. After such a rough fuck, you deserved it, to be babied like this. He was happy to give it to you.

Your fingers raked over his chest, over the name and date that was inked there. 'Brielle Jo' in a cursive font, her birthdate underneath it.

Eddie looked down, catching where your eyes were wandering. "She'll be alright." Eddie soothed, hand running down your side. "She just needs some time." There was a pause. "Maybe you should talk to your sister." 

You lifted your eyes, brows furrowed gently. "They're both worried that this will mess with their friendship, so... maybe you should just let them know that it won't." Eddie suggested.

"That's true." You muttered, eyes closing. "Maddy's so mad at me though."

"Yeah? Brielle's not exactly thrilled with me either." He snorted, shaking his head. "She told me I was the worst dad on the planet, and I was ruining her life."

You cringed. "She didn't mean that." You said quickly, running a soothing hand down the hair on his chest.

"I know." Eddie nodded. "It kinda loses it's sting when she's said it a million times." He grinned, a lopsided grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I asked her if she'd talked to Madeline about it, and she said no. That they weren't really talking."

You felt your heart drop. Eddie ran a hand down your jaw, cupping it. "Maybe you should talk to her. Get them to talk to each other. I think they're both scared that the other is mad."

You nodded. "I will." You sighed, breathing out slowly through your nose.

Eddie smirked, lips pressing together as you cuddled closer to him. "Can't believe you thought I wanted to break up with you." He scoffed. "Can't get rid of me that easily, sweetheart. Not after that, for sure."

[sosa2imagines]

You, me and Vegas! Part 8

Warning- Fluff, fun, realization.

Peach led the way towards a local street vendor, the smell of sizzling veggies, meat and spices wafting through the air. She ordered two meal boxes without hesitation, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

As they sat down on a bench, Peach happily dug into her food, savoring every bite. Bucky, on the other hand, watched her eat with a mixture of amusement and slight horror. He leaned over, a napkin in hand, attempting to wipe her mouth.

“You got sauce on the corner of your mouth…” he said, chuckling.

Peach, completely absorbed in the deliciousness of her meal, merely swatted his hand away. “Mm, let me enjoy!” she mumbled, her mouth still full of food.

Bucky chuckled again, shaking his head. “You're slobbering all over yourself.” he teased, trying again to wipe her mouth.

After they finished their street food, Peach's spirit of celebration was still high. She grabbed Bucky's hand, a mischievous spark in her eyes.

“Come on,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “I have a better idea!”

She led him towards a fair that was set up nearby, the lights, laughter, and lively music pulling them in.

The fair was bustling with people, the air filled with the scent of cotton candy and the sound of carnival games. Peach, clearly in her element, looked around, her gaze taking in the different rides and attractions.

“So...” she said, turning to Bucky with a grin, “what do you want to do first?”

Bucky chuckled, feeling like a kid at a candy store. He looked around, his gaze lingering on the various rides. “I don't know,” he answered. “Everything looks fun.”

Peach, her excitement palpable, was already pulling him towards a particularly daunting-looking rollercoaster, which was actually a mini train ride.

Bucky, seated beside Peach in the small train ride, couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably. The ride, meant for children, was moving at an incredibly slow speed, and the kids around them were giggling and pointing at the passing sights.

“This is... hilarious,” Bucky managed to say between bouts of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “We're on a train ride... for kids. And we're grown adults. It's just... ridiculous.”

Peach, though laughing too, tried to compose herself enough to respond. “Hey, don't be a buzzkill,” she said, swatting his arm lightly. “Besides, look at how happy these little kids are. It's contagious.”

On cue, a little boy sitting in front of them turned around, his cute face stretched in a wide smile, and waved at them. Bucky, in spite of himself, waved back, still chuckling.

The entire scene seemed surreal.

Bucky, a grown man with a serious profession, finding amusement in a childish ride. But it was hard not to get carried away by the infectious joy in the air. Kids cheered at every tunnel, and parents laughed and took pictures.

And throughout, Bucky couldn't help but marvel at the ability that children had to find joy in even the simplest things. It was a good reminder of a lesson he'd forgotten a long time ago, life wasn't supposed to be taken seriously all the time.

The train continued its slow pace, going around its circuit, and the kids around them continued to laugh and chatter. Peach, her eyes sparkling with mirth, put her hand on top of Bucky's.

“See?” she said, squeezing his hand. “Who needs to act all adult all the time?”

Bucky looked at her, his laughter subsiding, replaced by a warm fondness. She was right. Here they were, two grown adults riding a child's train, laughing like kids.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice softer now. “You're right.” He glanced at the kids again, the pure joy on their faces somehow making him feel strangely nostalgic.

After getting off the children's train, Bucky and Peach explored the fair further. The sights, smells, and sounds creating a merry atmosphere.

Peach, feeling adventurous, pulled Bucky towards a game booth where you had to throw darts to pop balloons. “Come on,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I bet I can pop twice as many balloons as you.”

Bucky chuckled at her competitive spirit, finding it both amusing and endearing. “You're on!” he said, accepting the challenge easily. They each paid for a set of darts, the balloons fluttering tantalizingly in front of them.

The game started, and both Bucky and Peach aimed their darts carefully. It was clear that the other was as competitive as them. First Bucky popped two balloons, then Peach responded with three. They went back and forth, the game booth attendant looking on with growing interest.

In the end, Bucky won, to no one's surprise. He grinned in victory while Peach, grudgingly, admitted defeat. They left the booth, both a bit out of breath.

“I still say that last balloon was deflated...” Peach teased, her competitive fire refusing to die down.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “It was not deflated,” he replied, his tone teasing. “You just need to accept your defeat with grace, you know, like an adult.”

After the game booth, Bucky and Peach decided to explore the rest of the fair. There, they came across a cotton candy stand, the sweet smell luring them closer.

Peach, always having a sweet tooth, immediately bought them a huge cotton candy to share. As they wandered through the fair, nibbling on the sugary treat, the sugar rush started to kick in.

Bucky was particularly mesmerized by the texture of the cotton candy. It was like eating pure, sweet cloud. He kept stealing glances at Peach, her mouth and fingers now blue from the food color, she was relishing the cotton candy equally.

While they walked through the fair, eating cotton candy and laughing, Bucky couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude towards Peach. Here he was, with a woman he was beginning to truly care about, enjoying himself at a childish fair.

He found himself constantly looking at her, watching as she laughed, her eyes lighting up, the blue on her lips making her look even more beautiful. The feeling of life pumping through his veins, the laughter rising up from his belly - it all felt so real, so refreshing. All because of her.

It was then that he realized how much he'd missed out on, how much life he'd been missing.

Since his childhood, he'd been so focused on being better, living the way his parents had decided for him. He'd never stopped, to think about enjoying, just being human or more like a robot for his parents.

And Peach, with her carefree spirit and her infectious laughter, was teaching him that valuable lesson. Being human was about embracing joy, living in the moment, and yes, even eating too much cotton candy and acting like a child every now and then.

He looked at her again, the warm light of the fair illuminating her face, her laughter tinkling like a bell. He couldn't help the smile that grew, feeling suddenly lighter, younger. With her by his side, everything felt easy, everything felt... possible.

As they walked past a dart-throwing game booth focused on winning a teddy bear. Bucky suddenly stopped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Hang on,” he said, holding out a hand to stop Peach. “I'm winning you that teddy!” he declared, nodding towards the booth.

Peach, though surprised by his sudden determination, couldn't help but smile at his playfulness. “Oh really?” she challenged, crossing her arms. “And how do you plan to do that? You know those games are rigged, right?”

Bucky, confident in his skills, simply gave her a cocky grin. “I have my ways,” he responded, rolling up his sleeves. “Wait here, and watch me work.”

He paid for his turns at the booth and picked up his darts, mentally preparing himself. Then, with surprising precision, he started throwing the darts at the targets. His aim was almost perfect, and the darts hit the center of the target, popping the balloons one after another.

Peach watched in amazement as Bucky worked his magic. He had a focused, determined look on his face, his muscles flexing with each throw.

After a few minutes, Bucky was done, the game booth attendant looking both impressed and slightly annoyed. He'd won the prize, a huge teddy bear that was as tall as Peach. Proudly, he handed the bear to Peach, a smug smile on his face.

“For you, m'lady,” he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated gallantry.

Peach accepted the giant teddy bear with a laugh, looking at it in disbelief. It was almost as tall as her, and its size made her eyes widen.

“It's...massive,” she said, struggling to hold it with one arm. “And it's way too big. Thank my good sir.”

Bucky chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “It's exactly the right size,” he replied, his ego swelling. “It matches your personality - giant and vibrant.”

Peach rolled her eyes playfully and swatted his arm with her free hand. “You're full of it…” she teased, but her tone was affectionate.

As they continued their stroll through the fair, with Peach carrying the huge teddy bear, Bucky could tell she secretly loved it. He puffed out his chest, satisfied with his 'knightly' deed.

After the fun at the fair, they headed back home in Bucky's car. The ride was filled with their banter and laughter, the windows slightly down to let in the night air.

As they drove, Peach, full of energy from the evening, began to feel cheeky. She suddenly poked Bucky in the side, aiming for his tickle spot.

Bucky let out an involuntary laugh, squirming in his seat. “Hey, cut it out,” he said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

Peach only smiled, feeling victorious. She tried again, earning another surprised laugh from Bucky. This soon turned into a mini battle, with both of them trying to outdo each other in sneaky tickle attempts.

Eventually, the ride wore out Peach. Her laughter slowed, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion. Bucky, one eye on the road, glanced over at her. Her head was resting on the window, her eyelids closed and her breathing soft and rhythmic. She'd fallen asleep.

He looked at her for a moment, the street lights casting soft shadows on her face. He felt a strange mixture of amusement and tenderness.

Bucky turned off the car and glanced once again at Peach. She was still asleep, her body peacefully slumped in the passenger seat. Realizing he couldn't wake her up, he let out a soft sigh.

Carefully, he got out of the car and opened the passenger door. He reached in and gently lifted her out, pulling her against his chest. Despite her unconscious state, she snuggled closer to him, her head lolling against his chest.

Bucky smiled at her unconscious show of affection, his heart warming despite his best efforts to remain unaffected. He carried her inside, moving slowly so as not to disturb her sleep, and navigated his way to the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed, her body molding into the sheets. With a gentleness he pulled the covers over her, tucking her in.

As he was about to pull away, he noticed a stray strand of hair falling across her face.

He paused, watching her sleep for a moment. Without thinking, he gently pushed aside the strand of hair, his fingers lingering a fraction too long on her cheek. There was something about her sleeping form that made her look younger, more vulnerable. The sight tugged at his heart, making him feel protective.

Finally, he pulled away, his hand dropping to his side. He stood there for a moment, listening to her soft breathing before quietly leaving the room.

Bucky settled on the couch in the living room, the silence of the apartment wrapping around him. In the quiet, his thoughts inevitably turned to Peach. Their time at the fair, her laugh, the way she felt in his arms. He could still smell the sweet, sugary scent of cotton candy on his clothes.

He leaned back in the couch, a frown marring his features. He was unused to these unfamiliar emotions, especially when it came to a woman. He was so used to a life of solitude, of keeping his feelings at bay.

Yet, here he was, thinking about a woman every five seconds.

It annoyed him a bit, how he couldn't control his thoughts. A part of him wanted to deny these feelings, to push them away. But the other part, the part that was slowly growing, wanted to explore these new emotions.

He was used to feeling numb, used to compartmentalizing. But now, everything regarding Peach seemed to blur those divisions, making him feel too much, all at once.

Bucky suddenly realized that he was smiling. Alone in the quiet of his apartment, he was smiling like a fool. He tried to suppress the grin, to regain his usual stoicism, but it kept creeping back.

It was ridiculous, how just the thought of Peach could make him smile like an idiot. But he found himself unable to stop. His thoughts were invaded by her laugh, her smile, the way she'd teased him at the fair.

Bucky chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He knew what he was feeling, even though he didn't want to admit it. He was falling for Peach. And falling hard, too.

The realization didn't scare him like he thought it would. Instead, it felt right, almost inevitable. But he still couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud, even in the silence of his own mind.

So, he simply continued to sit on the couch, grinning like an idiot, his thoughts filled with her.

Part 7 - Part 9

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[makeyoumine69]

My Lovely Detective VI

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Detective!OC

— CO-WRITER: @iron-flavored-lipgloss

— CONTAINS: Dub-con smut, accidental voyeurism, fingering, choking, blow jobs, manhandling, degradation, dirty talk, pet names.

— WORDS: 2.4k

— A/N: Hello dear readers, here's a new chapter! We hope you enjoy it and please feel free to share your opinions with us! Big hugs

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

Loosing Myself

Nothing had ever stopped Patrick from getting exactly what he wanted; the little boy who had always owned every new shiny toy and whose pets had disappeared under mysterious circumstances had long since become a man who now bathed in the shallow pleasures of endless luxury, drugs, sex...

It was true that most women only slept with him for the power of money, a purely transactional affair, or in the hope of siphoning off his wealth and status. 'Although that's not to say that these sharp features and the size of my cock don't help in attracting these whores,' Bateman mused briefly, his hand running down his flat stomach and stroking his hardening length in self-indulgent fascination.

"No" doesn't exist in his world, because "yes" is usually just a matter of payment, and so he finds a certain satisfaction in taking what wasn't even part of the deal. Those materialistic sluts screaming underneath him, realizing that they made a miscalculation, that he will rip and rape their bodies, because nothing is worth anything to him anymore, and death is the real price of a night with him. No woman has ever come close enough (or lived long enough) to know the real Patrick Bateman. But Andrea, who he kidnapped and brutalized, and who was now begging him to fuck her...

'Is she losing it? Are there now two lunatics living on the 11th floor of the American Gardens building?'

"You're a stupid fucking bitch," Patrick groaned, confused and yet aroused by the desperation in her voice, her body writhing and shaking with what seemed to be a serious need for him. "I guess I already fucked your brain out, Detective," he muttered, emphasizing her profession with a certain mockery as his hand wandered between her legs. She was so wet that his fingers slid effortlessly into her this time and Patrick couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.

"You really are a dirty, filthy whore to me," he realized as Andrea took one finger after another inside her, more than ready for him, but now of all times he was dragging things out. All this in spite of the fact that Patrick was aching for her at this very moment, rubbing his erection against the silk sheets to take the edge off. 

He was creating a special kind of torture for both of them with the way his thumb kept teasing her clit, his mouth instead attacking the sensitive area around her inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses on the plump flesh. Andrea's skin was so warm to his touch, a heat that radiated not only from her body but also from the look in her eyes as she met Patrick's gaze. 

"Not satisfied with my fingers, huh? Then I need you to be more specific. I need you to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you."

No, that was not her, it was simply not possible. Andrea, she always knew, wouldn't act like a fucking whore in heat, but... but what if that Andrea was already gone? Lost in the chaos of pain, filth and depravity?

"Ah," the woman gasped as Bateman pulled her hips toward his groin, the leaking head of his cock slipping teasingly between her pussy lips, now so swollen they literally blossomed with arousal. "I want...I want to feel you deep inside me...all of you-aahhh!"

The moment Patrick began to thrust his hips against her rear, all of her insides were already on fire, it was like a fucking torture to be stuck in the middle between being so empty and so full. 

Whimpering, Andrea wanted to bite the blanket to stop herself from crying. Although her pathetic condition could be seen in the mirror on the other side of the bedroom. "Please, just, take me," the woman turned to face him, his prominent eyebrows knitted together as the man was so focused on the process before his hazel eyes; the sight of Andrea's moist, tight cunt enveloping his veiny dick with such eagerness. "Patrick, mmm-Patrick!"

Did she just moan his name? Did she? Or was that not her?

Trapped in her own internal conflict, the Detective fell limp on the sheets under the weight of Bateman's muscles, and that one move gave him the perfect opportunity to bury himself as deep as he could until his balls began to slap her curvy butt.

A low, almost animalistic grunt erupted from the man's chest as he thrust into her, then again and again. Each time was harder and more savage, Andrea had to push the fabric of the covers into her mouth, using it as a gag, her pussy struggling to take him all in, even though it was quite difficult.

"Mmhm," she murmured, almost screaming, while her hands raked around the bed, not knowing what to grab on to, but the next second Patrick fixated them in front of her face and lowered himself even closer to her, so that now his hot breath fanned around her neck, scorching her tender skin. "Big...so big, a-awww." Andrea convulsed several times as the man grabbed her hair with no mercy, forcing her to look up at him.

Those dark eyes, they were the eyes of the devil, nothing more, nothing less. 

It had been days since Detective Donald Kimball had last heard from his assistant, and considering her last assignment had been the interrogation of Patrick Bateman, it was obvious what must have happened.

Now Kimball had to admit it to himself—letting her go alone had been a miscalculation. He had simply assumed that Bateman would be more rational. 

Because even though the serial killer had taken the trouble to cover his tracks this time, Kimball knew where to look first. 

He had been skulking around the American Garden building for days, fully expecting not to be greeted with a single sign of life from Miss Moore. He was ready to expose Bateman for what seemed to have cost his colleague his life - until he saw Andrea Moore through the window. 

Very compromising, not well, but obviously alive. 

For some reason, Bateman must have taken a liking to her, because why else hadn't he killed the woman who was sitting next to him like a ticking time bomb?

Was this man just waiting for his luck to run out? Was he longing for Kimball's punishment?

Which he could have given to Bateman. 

He should have called for backup to storm the apartment immediately. 

But after 20 years of service, he was motivated by more than honor and a handshake. The government paycheck didn't reflect his excellent work, Kimball had decided.

Just as Kimball was about to leave this place, tired of wasting his time just looking at the motionless female body on Bateman's big bed, an owner of that luxury apartment appeared in the detective's vision. Patrick, naked in all his glory, moved slowly toward Andrea, who was still lying on the bed, probably unconscious. And only then did Kimball understand what all this could mean—Bateman had finally found his perfect little doll, or rather, a helpless slave.

For a moment, the man put down his binoculars, wondering if he really wanted to know what was about to happen. With a sigh, Kimball let curiosity take over, and now he was back to watching the couple, who were completely unaware of a sudden onlooker. But even if Bateman knew, he would probably enjoy it. Why had Kimball thought of this? Maybe because of the big camera that was right in front of the king-size bed, the sheets of which were so white that it was painful to look at them.

As in the pornographic movies that were quite popular these days, Patrick positioned himself over the dark-haired woman and gripped her neck hard enough to bruise, Donald could swear he could hear her shaky gasping next to him. Was he going to kill her afterwards? At some point, the detective couldn't believe that his assistant had been here all this time. The train of thought distracted him for a moment, but when he returned to the lewd performance, the man almost dropped the binoculars from the way Andrea was sucking Bateman's huge cock as if her life depended on it. But maybe it was? 

Too many questions and no answers. Too much depravity and literally no shame in their movements, it all looked like they had done it so many times before. Patrick's tight grip on the back of her head, urging her to go faster, to take him deeper, until she felt the scratch in her throat, until his cum dripped from her luscious lips and down her chin.

There was something about the way Bateman bent her neck so their lips could meet, oblivious to the taste of his own release, perhaps even turned on by it. About Andrea pressing her soft body so willingly against Bateman's defined abdomen. And if Bateman had ever harbored violent urges toward Miss Moore, now was clearly not the time to convince her; they both sank back onto the white sheets, his broad shoulders almost completely blocking the view of her smaller frame to the voyeuristic eye of Detective Donald Kimball. 

Andrea's legs wrapped around Bateman's surprisingly slender waist, clinging to him as if he might disappear forever if she didn't. Their bodies turned, and if this was a fight, it had to be a very passionate one...

Bateman's hand all over her, on her face, her waist, her backside.

Kimball couldn't help but make an embarrassing noise, fortunately only audible to his own ears, and he gripped the binoculars tighter in response. 

He would never have expected this from a woman who dressed so conservatively every day. What surprised him even more was how a man like Bateman could be so enraptured by a single tantalizing, if not a little trashy, tattoo. 

Massaging the inked skin and kissing his way lower between her legs...

Kimball couldn't say he fully understood what was going on between them, at least psychologically, because the physical attraction was clear to him even from this distance. It was evident in the way Bateman buried his head deeper between her legs, grinding against the sheets, and Andrea's body convulsed and shook with undisguised pleasure.

And Kimball felt relief of a different kind wash over him - for now there was a way for his depraved mind to justify the next step: A private offer Mr. Bateman couldn't refuse.

How many days have passed? Andrea could never know, since she was imprisoned in a golden cage on the 11th floor of the American Gardens Building. The apathy seemed to reach its limits, and the woman even began to refuse to eat, shower, or even leave Bateman's bedroom, hiding under the covers like a frightened animal. Such an attitude only made Patrick more cruel and brutal, Andrea's skin was like a canvas for his marks, such as bruises, scratches or even bites, which he left each time they fucked, but he always took care of them meticulously, applying some balm and bandage.

Why couldn't he just let her die? Why did he keep dragging her out of bed day after day to give her a bath, as if she were his dear pet that he loved to take care of? Well, maybe she really was? The meals Patrick gave her were extremely nutritious and healthy, they were deliciously cooked, but Andrea could never really enjoy their taste. Colors seemed to leave her current life as well as her former self. She was like an empty, broken phial, and all of Bateman's attempts to fill it up were unsuccessful, to say the least; the fact that he was possessively pumping her with his seed didn't count. Though, it was a fucking miracle that the woman hadn't gotten pregnant yet. 

'If I'm really stuck here forever, there's only one way out,' Andrea thought to herself as she watched Bateman cutting an apple for her in the kitchen, the knife so sharp that Patrick didn't even have to use any pressure to cut the fruit. 'I should try to kill him,' she jerked away as the man appeared in front of the kitchen island and offered her a slice of apple with a wicked glint in his hazel eyes. 

"I'm not hungry," Andrea muttered, turning away and crossing her arms. The only thing she could think about now, besides the constant plotting of her possible escape, was the upcoming party Bateman was going to take her to. Even though she still couldn't believe that he was actually going to let her go out with him. It was so weird. "Am I really going with you? Or it's just another evil joke?"

There was an undisguised challenge in Andrea's voice that only fueled Bateman's interest in her. This woman was like an unruly element, a force he wanted to tame so badly, and he knew that one day he would eventually do it.

"No jokes, honey," Patrick sneered, leaning against the kitchen counter, the apple slice still in his hand. "But," the man suddenly straightened up and walked around the corner to get even closer to Andrea. "This is not an ordinary party, this is a special one."

"Special?"

Smirking haughtily, the man stopped right next to her, his one hand already finding a place on her shoulder, kneading it in a relaxing way, but it only made her more nervous. "Yes, it's hosted by one of my friends from Wall Street," his soft baritone echoed off the walls, creating a strangely hypnotic vibe. "I'm sure you'll like it."

With a devilish grin, Patrick quickly popped the apple slice into his mouth before drawing close to Andrea's face and in the next second, their lips collided in a sweet but possessive kiss. The fruit was so tasty and soft that its juice spilled out and ran down the woman's chin and neck. Holding her in place with his strong arm, Bateman pulled away only to catch the small drops of sugary fluid running down her soft skin, causing Andrea to shiver, but she managed to stifle a moan.

"Does your friend know what you've done?" She asked quietly, her head tilted to the side, and even though his touch was pleasurable, there was no way she was going to show it to him. 

"And what have I done?" He replied, locking his tantalizing gaze with hers. "I just claimed what was mine, don't you think?"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and my amazing co-writer @iron-flavored-lipgloss and turn on notifications to know when we update!

[finalgilmoregirl]

☆ random thoughts about what i think being in a relationship with mike would be like :

a/n : no gender specified, no y/n + no mentions of the actual movie plot

he’s actually pretty quick to open up after the first couple of dates. i think he would want you to know his situation as soon as possible and understand what you might be getting yourself into if the relationship has any chance of becoming long term.

he also does it for abby’s sake, he doesn’t want you to meet her and accidentally say the wrong thing, or be surprised by their situation so much that you get scared off, leaving poor abby confused.

likes watching horror movies, but only over the top, borderline goofy ones (i.e. nightmare on elm street, child’s play, gremlins, signs). he gets fidgety and even anxious during any where the antagonist is human, some might hit a bit too close to home.

cheesy low budget slashers have a pass. the acting is bad enough and the plot is predictable enough to keep him entertained but not lead him to spiral. those and again, goofy ones are when he pulls out the “here, i’ll protect you” move about fifteen minutes in, of course just wanting an excuse to hold you.

he’s the worst at grocery shopping. he always goes when he’s hungry which leads to too many snacks and frozen meals. and as much as you love the convenience, you know he and abby can’t live like this. which leads to you pushing the cart around while he holds the list you made and grumbles things like “when are we even going to eat rice?” and “i don’t need all of these vegetables, they’re just going to go bad.”

in the end, he’s grateful. and abby is too now that you introduced them to the world of easy to make side dishes.

stealing his clothes duh!! he could groan about how he’d been looking for that hoodie or his sweatpants and sometimes even socks (yes even the ones with the holes in them) but at the end of the day he’ll allow it because he loves the way his clothes look on you, and you love smelling like him.

like i mentioned earlier, he lives for touch. it’s something he didn’t know he was missing until he met you. then it’s all he wants when he’s around you. it can be you running a hand through his hair, or him pulling your back into his chest with an arm around your shoulder.

he loves forehead touching. he loves it when you do it as a way to cheer him up, making a silly face, causing him to pull away and giggle into your neck. he loves it on late nights where he’s just woken up from another bad dream and you do it to calm him down, allowing him to match his breath with yours. he loves it after a moment of passion, and as he stares into your eyes all he sees staring back is pure adoration. it’s the intimacy in the close proximity that he never gets tired of.

he has a temper but it’s hard to blame him. it comes from a place of anxiety, where any high stress situation causes a fight or flight response in him. he hates it about himself, and even after you forgive him after an argument for snapping at you or abby or for shutting you out at a time when he shouldn’t, he still kicks himself for it.

abby usually taking your side in debates just to spite her brother. even if its about something she has no knowledge about, you're in the right! which usually leads to mike jokingly mumbling about how much she likes you more than him.

finally, date nights!!! and as much as mike likes the idea of going out for drinks or for dinner and a movie, he and his wallet favor a more intimate night in at his home. these kinds of dates are few and far between, since its hard for mike to find someone he trusts enough to send abby away with. but on the rare chance that she gets invited to a friends slumber party just a block over, he takes it and spends the night drinking and laughing with you over a plate of your guys' favorite take out orders.

-----------------------------

hope you enjoyed! ☆ requests are open btw

[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (7): I Thought About Thinking It Through

a/n: ok so the first blurb of the sleep talking interlude has been somewhat negated so I apologize but promise it is worth it. heavy shit this chapter as we get the full story on sidney landry. but john might say the L word...

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, mentions of character just wanting it all to stop

When John walked into the pub that night, the sounds of an angel laughing reached his ears but the cause was making his fists curl. Cass was seated at a table in the back corner with a man, who he presumed was Mr. Foster, sitting across from her. Her chin was in her hand the way it was whenever he told her a funny story. Her smile was as soft as candlelight as she nodded along to whatever he was telling her. Swears he felt his blood boil when her hand brushed against his across the table.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t think I was going to see you here tonight.” His annoyance was washed away as she turned to greet him with a smile. She said his name and brought him in for a kiss, John using her proximity to press a few more to her lips.

“John, this is Captain Will Foster. We went to spook school in Maryland together.” John kept one arm around the back of her chair as he shook the man’s hand. 

“Major Egan, it’s an honor, sir.” 

“Hear that, Cass, some people think it’s an honor to meet me.” She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her soda. “You’re the one who’s going to keep an eye on my girl in Berlin?”

“I’ll do my best, sir, but this is Cass’ operation. I’m just here to do what she tells me.” Cass blushed and ducked her head. “Lieutenant Cooper graduated top of our class. Highest marks the entire year.” 

“It’s not that impressive,” she began. “Not like I can fly a plane.”

“None of that,” John stated as he gripped her chin between his fingers. “You are the smartest, most gorgeous, most impressive woman that has ever walked this earth.” She smiled in spite of the ridiculousness and let him pull her in for another kiss. 

“Careful, John, or all this is going to go to my head. Then I’ll be truly insufferable.” 

“I have never once complained about your company.” As it always did, the rest of the world sealed itself off from the space between them. As soon as they had their eyes on each other there was nothing else that mattered. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.” John kissed her forehead and was off in the direction of the bar. 

“You and the Major, huh?”

“He is…a welcome surprise. I saw him get off a plane one day and couldn’t shake the look in his eyes.”

“Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back,” Will replied with a swig of his beer. “You always were good at learning everything about your target without giving up even a hint of yourself.”

“John’s not my target. He’s my-” She stopped. What was he? Was there a word to describe their relationship status? Partner seemed too severe and official. Boyfriend seemed too trivial. “Mine. He’s just mine. And I’m his.”

“Simple. That works.” Oh, if he only knew. The feelings they had for each other, ability to express them agnostic, were simple. They were pure. They were real. They were warm and comforting and made her nerves tingle. But the world around them was so complicated. The lives they led as individuals were complicated, how were they supposed to twine them together? “And to think you were a runaway bride when I first met you.”

“Runaway bride?” John chose the perfect time to return. Catching the one part of that comment that Cass felt in her chest. “You?”

“It’s an exaggeration of the circumstances.” Cass transitioned to damage control. The topic of why she had left South Carolina in the first place hadn’t come up between her and John. And she had wanted to keep it that way. There was no use pouring salt in her old wounds.

“Oh, come on, Cass. Engaged to marry the big time banker’s son and fleeing the engagement party to enlist in the OSS? It’s an incredible story.” For the second time that day, John found himself furious with the tone someone was using to speak to her. She had fully retreated into herself, focused on the condensation rolling down the side of the bottle, her hands shaking in her lap at the reminder of that night. 

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk about it, Captain.” There was authority in his tone. It was protective. Purposeful. No room to misinterpret his words. “You okay?” It looked like she was having trouble breathing. As if the amount of trauma trapped in her chest was suffocating her. 

“No. I just need some air. Alone.” She doesn’t think she could look John in the eye. Not when he now knew the awful truth. Not when she was now nothing but damaged and spoiled goods. John watched her walk away with a clenched jaw. 

“Major-”

“I don’t know what the fuck happened in South Carolina, Foster, but if I ever hear you mention it again it will be the last thing you ever do.” John drained the rest of his whiskey and slammed it on the table. He didn’t wait for a response. He meant the words he said. And Will knew it.

----

“There’s more than one of them,” John mocked as he sat across from the RAF officers. “I can see more than one of you, too. I could knock all of you out.” Cass hadn’t come back into the pub and John had just drowned his anger and worry in amber liquid. Buck and Veal helped settle him down as he yelled he could do it in only one punch.

“You want to get Major excited? Baseball. Specifically the Yankees,” Curt offered.

“Really? I would have thought it was the little poppet who left close to tears.” No one tried to stop him when he stood this time. 

“Say that again,” he threatened. 

“Why don’t we make a bit of sport out of it, Major?” 

“I’ve got him, John, let me take care of him,” Curt reasoned. Really, they were all afraid John might kill him. A better man would know when to step aside. Let a more level head prevail. But John wasn’t in any particular mood to take the high ground. 

“Not this time. People in this goddamn pub need to stop talking about her.” They all milled outside and John tossed his blazer into the grass. He wondered if Cass would appreciate the gesture or be repulsed by it. If she ever believed violence was the answer or always chose to think her way out of everything. He ducked the weak hand of the Brit as he thought about the way she looked earlier. The way she had hid herself from his gaze and his touch and requested she be alone. He didn’t like the hole in his chest that she left whenever she wasn’t near.

His fist landed square on his target’s face and the sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed throughout the night air. He pictured Harding’s lovesick eyes when his Cass entered the room. Pictured Foster and his words quelling the fire inside of his Cass in an instant. Pictured this pompous asshole watching his Cass walk from the pub with a shake to her shoulders. Cass was a deity that mere men were not meant to get too close to. John didn’t even believe he deserved the way she looked at him. The way she touched him and comforted him and made him feel at home in a faraway land.

“You good, Bucky?” The others were cheering and laughing and slapping him on the shoulder but Buck looked concerned more than anything.

“I gotta protect her, Buck. I can’t let this place take her from me.” He couldn’t even feel the wounds to his knuckles or the blood of another man trickling down his fingers. “I’ll find you guys later.” John ignored their groans and pleas and grabbed his jacket from the ground before heading off in her direction. His north star. He would always follow her home.

----

He knocked softly against her door, Mary not hiding her eye roll at his disheveled uniform and bloodied knuckles when she had begrudgingly let him in, his forehead landing against the wood as he waited for her to answer.

“You found me,” she whispered softly as she cracked the door open an inch. 

“Always will,” he replied sincerely. “Can I come in?” She nodded and opened the door wider, John closing it behind him as she sat on the edge of her bed. He looked around and noticed a packed bag on the floor and a stack of envelopes on her desk. The one on top looked like it was addressed to her parents. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back after…” John shook his head.

“You were upset. He shouldn’t have said what he said.” Cass chuckled drily and looked at the ceiling. 

“You have my back, just like that? Without even knowing what it was he was talking about?” He sat down in her chair, elbows landing on the top of his thighs. “What happened to your hand?” She surged forward and held his hand in hers with a delicacy that made him shudder.

“I was having your back.” Not asking any further, she opened a drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. “And to answer your question, yes. It doesn’t matter what he was talking about. If it made you uncomfortable, it needed to stop.” He didn’t wince as she cleaned the blood from his hand, kissing each knuckle for extra measure, and wrapping a bandage to seal in her love.

“I appreciate that, John, but what he said was true.” He winced now. 

“About being another man’s bride?” The thought made him sick. The thought that Cass was already someone else’s. That she hadn’t told him and let him fall in love with her and share in those sacred moments together. That maybe that was why she so rigidly didn’t want him to say so. 

“I was supposed to be. Before I left for training, I was engaged.” She paused and waited for his reaction. Waited for him to be angry or upset and tell her she wasn’t worth the trouble. 

“And I’m sure you left for a reason, Cass.” His desire to understand her almost hurt her chest. It reminded her exactly why she had left. Why Sidney Landry was most certainly not the man she was meant to marry. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to drudge something up if you’ve already gotten over it.”

“No, if…if me and you are going to be me and you, you need to know. You deserve to know.” John leaned forward to hold her hands, kissing the back of them with all the love he could muster. “His name is Sidney Landry. His father is the biggest banker in the state and they’ve been looking to get their claws into my family’s business for decades.” Her hands shook slightly and he squeezed them tight.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving.”

“By all accounts it was an advantageous match. They were wealthy and powerful and Sidney could have any girl in Charleston that he wanted but for some god awful reason he wanted me. My mother was so delighted. She had found a man who was willing to try to tame me.” A tear rolled down her cheek and John’s thumb wiped it away. 

“Cass…”

“I had no choice but to say yes and let him parade me around like some blue ribbon. I was so miserable every second I was with him. He would grab my arms so tight they bruised everytime we went somewhere. He would say the crudest things about me having his children. I spent months just wanting it all to stop.” The tears were coming in full force. Her hands grasping John’s like he was her anchor in the storm. His own eyes were swimming with emotion as he watched her exorcize these demons from within her. “One night he had been drinking so much I couldn’t understand what he was saying. But he was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So angry that he…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated, “I know all I need to, Cass.” John already knew he was going to kill Sidney Landry. Didn’t know when but he knew it would be slow. 

“His hands were around my neck and I thought he was going to kill me. I hit him as hard as I could over and over before he stopped. I ran and I ran and I ran until I couldn’t breathe.” 

“You ran all the way to London, huh?” he said in the hopes of getting a smile to crack across her face. It worked. 

“I thought I ended up here because I was running away from him but maybe I was really just running to you.”

“That sounds about right,” he murmured as he stroked the top of her cheeks. “What you went through…You are so fucking strong, Cass. You deserve to be happy and to feel loved and protected.”

“I’m so damaged, John. I’m not meant for a life of teacups and doilies and standing there silently. No one is going to want this version of me.” Now that he knew the truth, she expected him to run too. To find a simple girl who could be the wife he deserved and the mother to his children he deserved. 

“That’s not true, Cass, because I,” he swallowed and held her face between his hands, steady and strong, “because I love you. I am so fucking in love with you, Cassandra Cooper. I love every last bit of you and I love this version of you and know I’ll love every version that comes after.” She kissed him ferociously, not able to get enough of him even with no distance between them. “Come home with me when this is all over. Do me the honor and make me the happiest man alive.”

“I will, John, I will.” He kissed her with a groan, eager to lock this promise between them. “John, you need to know that I leave for Berlin in the morning. The operation it’s…it’s…others have tried and they haven’t come back.”

“I’m not letting you say goodbye,” he reasoned. “Not when you got me thinking about an after.” Oh it was so cruel and dangerous for the universe to do this to him. Give him the one thing he’d been wanting only to have her live her life on the same edge he did. 

“If something happens to me, I need you to know I feel the same way you do.” She just needed to get through this. If she could survive Berlin, she could survive this whole thing. She could love John Egan wholeheartedly and unabashedly. She could find the courage to go back home if he was with her. “When I went to see Harding this morning, I went to turn down Berlin.”

“Turn it down?”

“I would have rather been here with you than anywhere else. No matter what those consequences were. But then I saw Buck’s letter and I was so angry.”

“I know. I deserve that.” She shook her head.

“No, you don’t because here I am doing the exact same thing.” 

“Hey, you’re not going to need those farewell letters on your desk, okay? You’re going to go to Berlin, kick someone’s ass or steal state secrets to end the war and you’re going to come right back home to me. Just like how I am always going to come right back home to you.”

“Forever and ever?” she asked. 

“Forever and ever,” he promised. “You going to let me hold you while we try and get some sleep tonight?” 

And that was how Mary found them before the sun rose the following morning. John protectively wrapped around Cass from behind, their fingers interlocked at her middle. And they both studied each other for a few more minutes until Mary said it was really, really time for Cass to go. John not wanting to forget a single thing about this very moment. Cass not wanting to forget a single detail about the face of the man she loved. The face of the man she was fighting to keep safe. 

“Don’t get distracted by thoughts of your love for me while you’re flying,” she teased as he pecked her lips a few times. 

“I am going to fly so much faster with that admission off my chest.” She giggled and fell back into him easily, her plane whirring to life behind them. 

“If you do, I might let you show me how much you love me when I get back.” That twinkle of mischief was there that he loved so dearly. 

“Is that so? You better hurry then. I’m a patient man, Spook, but not when it comes to loving on you.” 

“Cass! We got to go! Weather’s moving in!” Her heart dropped along with her smile as she turned back to John. The part she was dreading.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, her fingers tracing the contours of his face one last time. His knuckles brushed her cheek and he kissed her one last time. 

“I love you. You come back to me in one piece. That’s an order, Lieutenant.” 

“I’ll do my best, Major.” She pulled him by the front of his jacket for her own last kiss. To tell him she loved him without saying the words. Those would be for after. 

She walked backwards until she couldn’t anymore. Her hand pressing to her lips before she released it into the wind, John catching the sentiment with ease. He had never felt such torment watching a plane take off as he did in that moment. It was carrying everything he held dear off to a faraway place. 

“Please come back to me, Cass.”

[stillarandom-radfem]

This post is going to cause controversy here on radblr. I already know that, and I'm ready for it. But there is something that I've just got to get off my chest, here. It's been bugging me for a long time now, but for the longest time, I couldn't quite find the words to describe my feelings.

Here's the thing. It's not that female separatists are wrong, necessarily, with regard to their arguments about male violence. OSA women like myself are at a greater risk of interpersonal violence from men, intimate partner violence does make up the majority of domestic violence statistics, men are the most likely people to rape or murder us, and yes, living without men therefore probably would improve straight and bisexual women's lifespan/overall quality of life in most cases. BUT. The way many female separatists (who are most often lesbians) go about presenting their arguments is not only unnecessarily rude to women who have done nothing to deliberately harm them (and, when it includes such colorful monikers as "dick worshipper" and "cock rider" in it, reasonably comes off as an attack), but it includes many of the same tactics that homophobes use against LGB people to make their point. I'm sure that homophobes doing that stuff to you is hurtful, but I'm also at least 99% sure that heterosexual women who are radfems (or rad-adjacent, if you prefer) aren't the ones leveling those attacks, and don't therefore deserve to be responded to with such ferocity. Two wrongs do not, in this case, make a right. And it needs to stop.

For example, you ask?

Acting like heterosexual relationships must be purely sexual, with no actual love involved whatsoever.

I see LGB people complaining about homophobes doing this to them all the time. "You think our relationships inherently obscene or kinky because you can't picture us actually being in love; all you can think of is the sexual part! You think a sizable chunk of the population is incapable of love or human connection, and that is dehumanizing!" Yes, I have no doubt in my mind that it is. But then look at what you do when you try to call out heterosexual/bisexual women for being with men, and you are doing exactly the same thing to us. You talk about OSA relationships, and the first and, often, only thing you ever bring up is the sexual aspect of them. The word "love" almost never comes up. It's like it doesn't even occur to you that OSA women might actually fall in love with or have very deep romantic feelings for their male partners, not unlike you, as a lesbian, may have or have had towards any girlfriends you have ever dated, any women you have ever crushed on, or, if you're lucky, your wife. Now, do OSA women have sex with our boyfriends or husbands, if we have them? Of course we do! Have you ever had sex with your wife or girlfriend? Or, if you're single, would you, if you had one? Of course you would, and you know it! Does that negate your feelings for her, somehow? No? Your relationships are not purely sexual just because there is sex involved? Then why would you assume that sex being involved would make heterosexual relationships suddenly be only sexual? Also, news flash: vibrators exist. So do dildos. Or women (including het women) could just use their fingers or a pillow. There are many ways for a woman of any orientation to get off without a man if getting off is all that she's after. If she is choosing to be in an actual serious relationship with a man, it's most likely because she's in love with him. You are trying to convince her that there is something more important for her to consider, in spite of her feelings. So, perhaps instead of insinuating that she is some kind of sex-obsessed slut who is screwing over her entire sex deliberately for the sake of a few orgasms, you can start start there, instead.

Acting like other people's sexual orientations can be changed (not yours, of course, just, you know, everyone else's).

I see homophobes acting this way towards LGB people all the time, claiming that the sex(es) you are attracted to is a choice somehow, shaming you for preferring the "wrong" one (or the "wrong" one at the moment, if you're bi). Which, personally, has always struck me as kinda weird, because they never seem to apply the same logic to themselves. They never stop to suggest whether their own orientation is a choice or not. I guess it's pretty obvious why they won't, because then it comes down to two possibilities: if they are with strictly the opposite sex by choice, then it's very probable that they are actually bisexual, and behave as they do towards gay people due to internalized homophobia, whereas, if their strict opposite sex attraction is not a choice, then they have just admitted that their own orientation is innate, so why would they assume everyone else's not to be? It makes no sense. And incels will take it a step further, yelling slurs at lesbians for only wanting to have sex with other women instead of them. It's all pretty fucked up and illogical, and just for the record, I think you all deserve much better. Of course your sexuality isn't a choice. And yet... I mean, I can't even begin to count how many lesbian separatist blog posts I have read full of women acting as if heterosexuality is a choice. "Ew, moids are ugly, dicks are gross, what's wrong with you, why would you choose that?!" Newsflash, gyns: we didn't. That's just our sexual orientation, and we didn't choose it any more than you chose yours. We may still choose to be celibate in spite of our orientation, or, if we're bi, we might still decide to only date other women. But we will still always have the capacity to be physically attracted to/fall in love with men, and for those of us who are straight, we can only experience that with men exclusively. That's just the way it is. We can't control that; it's innate. Some of you, upon grappling with this fact, immediately jump straight to the incel way of doing things and begin slinging the aforementioned colorful monikers (ahem, sexualized anti-woman slurs aforementioned in this blog post) for only being attracted to men instead of you. It actually smacks of sexual harassment, and then you wonder why so many straight women stop following/won't follow you. Or, leap right into calling us lesbophobes because we don't want to take sexual harassment like that from anybody, man or woman alike. Call me crazy, but the last time I checked, a "lesbophobic woman" was a woman who hates lesbians for only being attracted to other woman, not a woman who simply refuses to date/sleep with you. What, you have a right to bodily autonomy, but straight/bisexual women don't?! And yeah, I know, I know. "Stop comparing us to incels! Lesbians aren't predatory!" Well, true, most of you are not. The vast, overwhelming majority of you are completely fine and normal. But I always give the side eye to any notion of an entire group of people (any people) being all perfect, pristine angels carte blanche (a scant few people in every large enough group are going to be creeps), and if a scant few of you don't want to be compared to incels... Well, then maybe you should stop behaving like them. Because, when you explicitly resort to their same tactics, even I get the ick off of a few of you, and I'm probably the least homophobic straight person I know. 🤨🤨🤨

They call you "c*rpet m*ncher", "qu**r", "f*g", "d*ke", etc., over your orientation. You then call women (who probably didn't even call you that!) "dick worshipper", "cock rider", etc., over ours.

Enough said. Do I even need to point out (again) that these are almost all just a bunch of sexualized, anti-woman slurs? Do you really think that this is going to bring women over to your side, as opposed to just driving them away? And do you actually think that your female separatist movement is going to have any kind of major societal effect if you would rather drive women away from it, rather than bringing them in? It won't have any impact that way; it will only die out. And, look, I don't think that homophobes should be treating you like that, either. They most definitely should not. I have no doubt that them slinging those slurs at you constantly over your sexual orientation (which you can't control) is extremely hurtful and probably even scary for you. You deserve so much better than that. But, again, last time I checked "lesbophobe" means someone who hates you for only being attracted to other women, not a woman who refuses to date/sleep with you, and, from what I can tell, radfems appear to be, by and large, very pro-gay. Even when we, ourselves, are not. So, it seems very unlikely to me that we're the ones calling you names like that (unless you can show me receipts or something, in which case, go ahead). Until that happens, it occurs to me that people of all sexual orientations are pointing fingers, accusing each other of being sex-obsessed perverts, and calling each other names because, idk, maybe the drama is more interesting to some people than minding their own business? Or they literally can't wrap their minds around being attracted to that sex, so they attack anyone who is? Idk, it all seems very juvenile, and I should think there would be better ways to tell someone that some aspect of their lifestyle is unhelpful to the movement and/or mentally unhealthy to them than merely resorting to often sexualized mudslinging attacks. Honestly, no matter what your views on female separatism or sexual orientation are, can we all just agree to a ceasefire on the relentless mudslinging on all sides?? Please??? This is middle school shit, and it's really getting annoying. Everyone. On both sides. You're like a pack of schoolyard bullies. Stop it.

Again, I'm not saying that female separatists' arguments against dating/sleeping with/marrying and/or having kids with men are entirely wrong. Male violence is a problem for a lot of women, and refusing to be in relationships with them probably would reduce it greatly. But acknowledging heterosexual and bisexual women as being capable of romantic love towards whichever sex(es) we are capable of experiencing attraction to, acknowledging all sexual orientations as something innate that can not be changed and not a choice, and refusing to resort to juvenile mudslinging attacks will not take away from those facts in any way. So, I guess I just don't see what the reasoning is for so many female separatists to refuse to even consider them?

[cinnamonest]

No no, because yandere Adachi has so much potential. Like imagine him getting attached to just some convenience store worker he sees daily on his way home. He’d be friendly, kind, and even warn her of being safe on her way home because of the killer loose. Oh? You’re near the end of your shift? Why not just let him take you home? He’s a cop, after all. He’s trustworthy. darling would never see it coming whenever he knocks her out and drags her into his apartment. He’d be so very cruel, too. Never taking her gag off, threatening her for one wrong move. He’d expect her to play right into his fantasies (be too frightened of him to fight back and then act just like a perfect wife/girlfriend, no misbehaving needed) while acting completely insufferable.

I have like an endless amount of ideas/scenarios for this.

(Crazy that I did not even remember what day it is/notice the perfect timing until just now as I was copying this to post, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOHRU ADACHI)

YOU get it anon. Also PLEASE share those ideas, same goes to all 2 of my fellow Adachi appreciators here, because I have so much to say about this awful man. I'm just gonna ramble a bit here

//nasty stuff here, the usual but extra dark/intense because this is Adachi we’re talking about so how could it not be

-----

Tohru absolutely utilizes his status as a cop to his advantage. He knows it adds an element of social trust, that you won't be as on-guard with him as you would any other guy. He’s there to protect the general public, to apprehend bad guys — of course he’s a good guy!

He loves that you appreciate it — that adorable little voice, before you got to know him well enough to go by a name-basis, where you'd say ‘thank you officer! Have a great day!’ whenever he stops by the store.

So cute, so pure, so innocent, he thinks.

He wants to ruin you.

The man has some violent, violent thoughts. He doesn't even try to keep things pure and wholesome when he thinks about you, nor even limited to normal perversions. The very day he meets you, he goes home and spends the rest of the day jerking off to imagining your squeals and cries and tears with his hands around your throat. Oh, how he wants to feel you struggle, afraid and confused and the way you'd feel so betrayed when the policeman you trusted to keep you safe is balls deep in every hole you have, holding you down with ease. You look like you'd be weak. God, it would be so easy—

No, it will. It will be so easy, because he will do it.

You're probably not aware of it either. Most girls aren't, he thinks, they have no idea how weak and easily overpowered they are. He of all people would know — even when they're fighting for their lives, they’re so weak.

But you should be weak. It’s cute. Just like how you should be scared, innocent, sweet, obedient… the man definitely is the type to construct an unrealistic idea of darling in his head as perfect, someone who has no flaws in his mind, and he would absolutely have a “purity” fixation… so if that illusion is shattered in any way, he becomes very spiteful.

Canonically, he develops a crush over a woman he doesn’t even know and feels entitled to women on sheer principle of liking them, going to the extent of a woman having her own life as a “betrayal”… you’re not exempt from the exact same thing.

So God forbid he find out you’ve ever had a boyfriend or lover of any kind in the past… or worse… he’s going home one day, expecting to see his adorable beloved and wave to her from the street, only to spot her hugging and holding hands with some other guy? To realize that she's had a boyfriend this whole time?

Oh, he loses it. No outwardly — not yet — but he goes home, punches a wall, seethes and paces around for a while before moping in bed for some time.

It’s like a switch flipped in his head. Ugh. It’s like a betrayal. How could you… and as he mopes, it becomes so very obvious that this was intentional. You led him on on purpose. What were you thinking, being nice to him? You obviously wanted him to like you. It feels malicious, it’s painful.

You’re so stupid, so naive. Dumb little whore. Don’t you realize you’re playing with fire? Didn’t you think about the consequences your actions would have?

Because oh, will they have consequences. No way is he letting you get away with doing this to him. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.

He entertains that idea at the peak of his bitter wallowing — it would be just as easy as before. You probably have a TV set in your home. He could break in and just…

No. Dammit, he’s already too attached to you. He’s known you personally for a while now. He can’t do that. He wants to keep you.

It’s okay… well, no, it’s not okay, but he’s a very generous guy, you know. If you apologize and beg good enough, he’ll even consider forgiving you.

And you do. You squirm and cry and claw at his hands when he holds you up by your throat. It’s not good enough the first time, but when he squeezes down hard and tells you to try harder, asks you if that’s the best you can do, you finally get it right, finally say how sorry you are and properly beg for him to not kill you.

It’s enough to adequately make amends and begin the atonement process, at least. You’ll have the rest of your lives together to complete that process.

He makes good use of you, after bringing you home. Darling is the perfect little squeeze toy to him. He deals with a lot of stress, you know? He spends all day getting yelled at and pushed around by Dojima, and underneath the bumbling airhead act, it makes him seethe. He used to go home and break things, punch walls, throw things… but now he doesn't have to do that. He can just take all that stress out on you and your poor holes.

Holding your head down with a painful grip in your hair with one hand, holding your hips up and jerking your body back against his, nails digging into your flesh with the other, ramming into you over and over until your insides are sore and raw. Or holding your head firmly in place as you gag and cough and try to pull your head away, fucking your throat with not even an ounce of mercy, jerking your head down all the way and holding it there when he cums down your throat.

The stress relief is verbal, too. Oh, he's so, so mean, calls you every degrading term you can think of when he's rutting into you.. but it also comes out outside of those times too. He vents to you, whether you care to really listen or not. Just goes on and on about everything that upsets him, how much he hates this and that, how he wishes this or that person would just die so he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore… you never really know how to respond, but thankfully he doesn't actually seem to be looking for much of a response, more just someone to listen to him. In truth, it almost makes you feel a little bad for him... but you try to stave off such thoughts.

But that's just his default. That's when he's having a decent day, just the natural amount of stress he has. When he's had a bad day, it's much worse.

You learn to tell when he's had a bad day the moment he walks through the door — you hear how harsh each motion is, how he opens and closes the door, his footsteps, even his breathing as he makes his way over to you. The gruff ‘come here’ as he storms over to you, the harshness with which you're dragged over to bed and thrown down.

Those days are more violent — you end up with scratches and bites and bruises all over your body, strands of hair coming out where he pulled so hard, holes twitching and spasming and cum pouring out of you as you lay there exhausted and sore (as for him, though, he's out like a light as soon as it's over, and the grip he keeps on you means you're not getting up again either).

Being a cop also gives him a lot of tools most people wouldn't have access to. He has easy access to handcuffs and weapons. The handcuffs keep you however he wants you positioned, and he'll use some on your ankles too if need be.

He’s used the stun gun on his belt as a threat plenty of times — you used to think he was bluffing, but one day you go too far and it turns out it's not a bluff at all. It's a horrible, horrible sensation… but even worse is the way he laughs while he shocks you, exhilarated by — and probably, honestly, getting off to — the way you squeal and spasm.

Unfortunately, it awakens something — maybe he could use it on you more often, put it right up to your most sensitive places and see how you react… although not without building up dread and anticipation first, pressing it to your skin so that you beg and cry and he taunts you so mercilessly, with that awful awful smile on his face, before pushing the button and hearing you cry.

...But he's not always so awful. He still includes you in his normal life, at least. You almost wish he didn't. It's this oddly domestic vibe, once all the brutality of the day is out and he's tired and bored.

You talk — at first you kept being annoying and pesting him about letting you go, to which — much to your dread, a pit in your stomach every time he says it — he tells you you're never leaving, so shut up about it. But eventually, with no one else to interact with, you talk about all sorts of things, sometimes almost feeling like a normal conversation with a friend. He brings home food for you, and admittedly, you're almost surprised by the fact that he actually does ask what you want and gets you something different from what he gets based on your tastes. You didn't expect that sort of consideration.

You watch TV (he keeps you chained out of actual reach of the TV itself, just in case you get any ideas), the news (only for him to awkwardly change the channel when your disappearance was being discussed on local news), he even takes your request once or twice to pick up a movie to watch (although he's very critical, particularly if it's too ‘girly’ for his tastes).

But he's still so, so mean, such a bully. You have a lot of time to reflect on it all, and one day you confront him with it — tell him that you know that the reason he does all of this to you, the reason he can't just be normal is because he's bitter and spiteful and afraid of rejection. At first, you sound angry — and as you speak, the way his face contorts with disgust and fury makes you think you may just push him over the edge to actually kill you, and frankly, at this point, it's something you're willing to accept.

But then, tears in your eyes, voice growing quieter, you add—

I really liked you… I thought you were a good guy…

That makes him pause. He gets quiet. You see his face fall to an expression you can't quite name, eyes half-lidded and mouth pulled into a taut line.

Finally, he shrugs, giving you a cruel, snide grin.

Not my fault you were so stupid.

That's all the response you get, and remarkably, that last comment seems to make him let go of being infuriated over everything else you said. For a moment, though, you swear you catch him looking down at the ground with a miserable expression, as if those words actually had a profound effect on him… but it lasts only a second — as soon as he catches you looking at him, his eyes fixate on you again, that smile you hate so much comes creeping back, and your heart sinks as he takes agonizingly slow footsteps over to your helpless, shivering little form….