#arcana.writes

[ladyimaginarium]

do not repost.

[imaginariancathouse]

Title: le petit mort. Genre: Erotica, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Smuff, Hurt-Comfort. Fandom: GANGSTA. Characters: Beretta & Worick Arcangelo. Ship: Beretta/Worick ; Sharpshooter. For: Ais / @librastrai !! Summary: It was quite clear that they weren't going to talk about politics tonight; he'd had a taste of death and men fucked so good when they came face to face with Death. Rating: 18+. Warning(s): duaric ( otherwise known as m/f ) sex; oral sex; mild seven year age gap though they're obviously both very much so consenting adults & not to mention beretta literally could just kill his ass immediately if she really wanted to. A/N: ik i& sent this to u in private dms bestie but now its here in publique baybey !! for anyone who doesn't know, for context of this storyline, in this stage of their lives, they're romantically & sexually involved in a steamy love affair while additionally being colleagues under the corsican brothels as georgiana's protégées & he still serves as a mafioso in the monroe family; worick serves as beretta's benefactor, giving her money, jewels & other luxuries while she gives him her company & seductive affections in return; she's essentially his sugar baby & spoiled girlfriend, although he's seemingly unaware of her superhuman status, although he knows that she's definitely not all who she seems to be, which intrigues him even more. also this is unedited from the first draft i& showed ya & thus wouldn't be as detailed as it would be if it were the final thing lmao

When Worick comes to her apartment again in the upper echelons of the brothel with his clothes basically soaked all the way through with the summer rains and the scent of blood, Bellatrix can't help but giggle, but the intensity in his eyes and the fact he was barely holding himself back by a thread is enough to keep her silent for a moment, a smirk curving her lips as her legs spread. It was quite clear that they weren't going to talk about politics tonight; he'd had a taste of death and men fucked so good when they came face to face with Death. He quickly approaches the edge of her bed and grabs her hips to pull her closer to him in urgency, the feeling of his cold hands on the skin of her thighs elicit a gasp as he gets on his knees and laves his tongue over her slick arousal; his offering to her.

Today was an off day and she liked treats. Bellatrix keeps encouraging him, faster, harder, her hands weaving through his soaked blonde hair as he went to work in between her thighs. She didn't last too long with the way he makes her sing a sweet melody of soft sighs, hisses, moans and gasps, hips swaying and back arching like the waves of the ocean, his dark Aphrodite, his Lilith, his goddess.

When he's done, he leans in to give her neck a tender kiss and their lips meet, tongues intertwining like cherry knots, but not before Bellatrix tugs gently at his lower lip between her teeth. They'll have more fun later, she realizes as Worick simply takes off his soaked shirt and just flops his back on the bed and pulls her close to just lie here with him, eyes closing as his lips press in the space between her pulse and jawline. She's all he wants now.

It's been a long time since she's actually allowed herself to sleep for Chimeras didn't require the need to sleep, but Bellatrix was so comfortable right now merely lying on top of him that she couldn't resist.

They fall asleep together, inhaling the other.

Perhaps this is what peace looked like, only if for a night.

[ladyimaginarium]

Clem sits on her knees, preparing the syringe filled with testosterone as golden eyes flicker up to look at the most loveliest pair of blue eyes as Marlon's fingers caress her cheek and she leans into his hand, thumb brushing against her lips, and he gives her a nod. Her fingers intertwine with his and she softly kisses his knuckles and the back of his hand, before injecting the syringe into his inner thigh, feeling him slightly wince underneath her fingers. Thank God for Diana's basic medical training. Ejecting once finished and wiping any possible chance of infection off with a wipe, she rises up and kisses him as his hands cup her cheeks. They didn't even need to say anything. He gently picks her up by her waist after she discards the supplies in the trash, and he gently twirls them both around as she wraps her legs around his waist while Radiohead's acoustic variant of High and Dry play in the background of her bedroom until he lets them fall back on her bed, a surprised squeal escaping her lips. "Marlon, don't play wi' me like that." she pouts afterward, eliciting a chuckle from the taller man. "I like it, though." A moment of silence, before he's reminded."Oh yeah. We gotta see David for another round of service dog training." he murmurs into her ear as he lights a cigarette for the morning, hand tracing down her back in gentle circles, exhaling the smoke away from her face. Clem's lips press at his pulse, box braids surrounding her like a halo, "Yeah, but we need to eat brunch first tho'." she whispers back. Marlon puts his cigarette in the ashtray before he looks up at her. "A BNE, huh. Bacon and eggs. Fuckin' delicious."

Clem chuckles in agreement, nodding, "Yeah, I know that's right."

Erica's fingers slowly trace the back of Yang's hand as he rests in his hospital bed, barely awake. His skin is warm, she thinks, like the sun. One of his eyes wink open to look at her in the light of the winter dawn filtering through the window and illuminating her hair, her eyes. Yang cracks a soft smile, a breathy chuckle escaping him even despite the pain. "You look like shit... but hey, at least I'm holy... heh, get it..." he teases, his larger, warmer hand clasps around her own. Erica's breath hitches, lip trembling before her head dips, shaking her head, "You fool." He's always doing this, trying to make her laugh, even after all these years. Yang's been like this for as long as she can possibly remember, which was very little, but he never once hesitated to do so. His thumb rubs the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry." he murmurs, dropping the lighthearted act, both half lidded eyes looking up to meet her own as his gaze shifts all the way down her body. She always looked so beautiful, even now, all these years later, despite everything.

The albino woman slowly shook her head, "Stop..." she whispered, trailing off, her voice threatening to crack. None of this had ever been his fault. "If I had ever known or suspected..." Yang's tone is filled with the rage of a thousand suns, causing Erica's heart to skip a beat, "Delico and I would've fucking ended him."

The Twilight woman believed him with all her heart, but that didn't mean she wanted him to beat himself up over something he couldn't possibly control. "I'm alright," she lies through a blueberry lipstick smile in the hopes of comforting him, but that only makes him angrier. "Please don't do this shit to me, Erica." he's gentle, but firm, "no one in your position would ever be fucking fine."

"I just want you to be okay, please don't get angry." her voice is soft, hushed after a moment of silence as Yang complies squeezing her hand in support with a long sigh.

[imaginariancathouse]

beretta plays rough with striker; he adores it when she rakes her nails down his back, slaps him playfully while they're deep in coitus & bites at his lip as she kisses him. she knows he's sensitive around his neck area & marks him with lovebites and licks & vice versa. fighting gets him excited & he takes it out on beretta & she's all too willing when he celebrates his victory in a battle (which 99.9% of the time he conquers) by dragging her into an alleyway & fucking her quick & hard against the wall.

[imaginariancathouse]

beretta and striker watching horror movies but it's either really good or just plain awful & he ends up fingering her & she meets every thrust of his fingers with her hips & he kisses her neck & she's a dripping wet mess until he's in between those thighs bc he wanna swim with his face & this man Never lets go of that pussy until she's panting & moaning his true name & gripping his hair long after the movie credits roll 💕

[ladyimaginarium]

Title: lemonade. Genre: Family, Friendship, Hurt-Comfort, Slice-Of-Life. Fandom: TWDG. Characters: Clementine Maria Jasmine Cree, Isis Onyx ( OC ), AJ ( cameo ). For: Aja / @creolejesus !! Summary: For the first time in a very long time, she felt soft. Feminine. Fierce. Beautiful. Magical. All her life, it seemed like she had to fight, but now, she can simply… unwind for what appeared to be the first time in forever. This was what peace looks like, she thinks, and she prays to any god that would listen that this won't be taken away from her like all the others before. Rating: 16+. Warning(s): Clementine discusses her experiences with antiblackness & texturism as a child in non-explicit detail. Overall, this is a very uplifting ficlet. A/N: this was a concept ficlet i'd& written a while back for my& dear friend aja where back when i& was in the rpc, clementine & isis were basically like a mother-daughter duo where isis would teach her hoodoo & black history & black feminism in the deep south in a ranch area with horses nearby a bayou !! keep in mind that all this was approved by aja who is a afro-indigenous ( specifically black cherokee ) writer who i& always know would make sure i& write accurately should she ever see something that needs fixing. i& write clementine ( & as she is also an introject in our& system ) as a afro-indigenous chinese two spirit nonbinary girl; isis belongs to aja & she is a black creole rootworker & witch from new orleans louisiana with a mysterious past. i& intentionally left this vague whether or not this was in the canon universe of the apocalypse or this is somethin' else but this was actually inspired by the visuals of beyonce's lemonade album, poc cottagecore ( or ig more specifically black & native cottagecore ) & like. i& always hced clem as like always having to codeswitch especially around nonblack and nonnative folx so that mostly white survivors wouldn't view her as a threat ( bc. antiblackness smh ) & so when she's around isis, she feels like she can let those walls down & be authentically herself; i& do my& best to respect the language & aja said i& did a wonderful job at writing it so correctly & with respect as yt folx are really out here doing the absolute most & acting like it's a meme language when it's a language w/ its own dialect, rules, history & culture. i always got like. warm colors & black cottagecore / black witchcore vibes w/ isis & i wanted to reflect that in the visuals bc clementine eventually does do natural protective hairstyles in the future when she grows out her hair so i& think it would've been cool if isis was the one who taught her how to do her braids & stuff like that !! this is all mostly headcanon & exomemory based on clem's part. i& only ask that out of respect considering that this is a gift for a friend that only aja reblogs it but anyone can like it. if you enjoyed this content & you want to leave a tip, you can do that here, while far more importantly, if you want to support black folx, especially queer black folx on juneteenth, you can do that here !! happy juneteenth, black folx who read this, you're so loved!<3333

"Well, ain'tcha' as sweet as a peach, sweetpea!" Isis shrills as her hands complete her latest masterpiece and holds a handheld mirror up for Clementine to see.

The sunlight filtered through the window as Clem's amber eyes gazed back at her reflection, mouth parting with no words coming out, a smile blossoming upon her lips. Her dark brown hair had been tied up in two beautiful afro puffs. "Thank you, ma'am, it's beautiful." Clem murmurs, feeling safe enough to let down her walls that she usually kept around nonblack and nonnative people, so many who had tried to look at her funny even as a child for even speaking in her peoples' dialect. A deep inhale as her eyes flicker over to baby AJ who was suckling on warm milk and honey in a bottle.

"When I was a girl, kids used t' laugh a' me when I went on the schoolbus, call my hair "nappy", look at me funny like I was a clown or Booboo the fool or somethin'," her voice wavers for a moment, trying to hold back the river of tears that was threatening to break the dam before her breath hitches, "an' then I used ta' come home from school cryin' sayin' I was ugly. My daddy never forgot that an' raised hell for all the city t'know, including that school. He used t' tell me every mornin' that I was beautiful and capable of doin' anythin' I set my mind to. I tried... God above, I tried to believe that message but I guess after a while I forgot 'bout it. Hell, I don't even even think I believed him."

Isis listened to every word she said quietly before her lips press gently over Clem's forehead. "You know, your daddy was right, baby. Look at your reflection fo' me."

Clem did as the older woman asked her and as they looked into the mirror together, her voice gently whispered into her ear. "That face is your ancestors staring back at'chu'. They love you, babygirl. Your eyes are as golden as the sun and your heart is even brighter, sweetpea. They're proud that you're here still livin' and breathin' here with me and baby AJ. How many kids your age know how ta' fight like a soldier? How many grown ass adults have the power you got? You keep holdin' your head high and don't let nobody play wi'tchu' 'cause you are that girl and you can be whoever you wanna be. Don't let nobody forget that, don't let nobody play wi'tchu, babygirl, you are not the one to be played with. Black is beautiful and so are you, baby. You hear me?"

The younger girl can't help but smile in the mirror, feeling the warmth of a thousand suns fill her heart, before she turns to the older woman who may as well have been a mother figure to her. She hadn't felt this way in so long that she wanted to cry. "I wanna make you AJ's godmother, miss Isis."

A golden smile graced the woman's features, a soft laugh as sweet as honeycomb filling the room in all its glory as the sun filtered through the window and illuminated her ginger curly locks, "I can be that for baby AJ, babygirl. Now," her doe brown eyes glinted in the sunlight, "you got the herbs I gotchu' to get fo' me? Lemme see. I'm gonna teach you a bit more on herbs and then we gon' ride on horseback together. How that sound, sweetpea?"

Clem nods, a grin revealing pearly whites, "Yes, ma'am," before she stands up and gets her wicker basket and unveils the basket to reveal rue, palo santo and ginger root, her white dress trailing across the floor of the cabin. For the first time in a very long time, she felt soft. Feminine. Fierce. Beautiful. Magical. All her life, it seemed like she had to fight, but now, she can simply... unwind for what appeared to be the first time in forever. This was what peace looks like, she thinks, and she prays to any god that would listen that this won't be taken away from her like all the others before.

[ladyimaginarium]

When Erica creeps out her window, she sits on the rooftop and stares at the stars for hours. A deep inhale. The rain will be here soon. A familiar scent fills her nose, head tilted slightly to the side, only to feel a warm pair of hands place a coat around her shoulders as Delico sits beside her. A word didn't need to be spoken. He's here. He's here for her. Roslyn by Bon Iver plays softly in the background of her room a few ways away, but she doesn't care. Delico's chin rests softly on her hair and Erica finds herself fluttering her eyes shut. Peace, if only for a moment. "No one's going to hurt you, not while I'm here." "I know."

Worick places a box on her kitchen table, a smug grin forming on his lips, as if he were hiding something mischievous. Bellatrix stares at him with a quirked brow, her heels clacking on the floor from her bedroom to her kitchen, black painted nails tapping on the cardboard as she curiously opens the box, only to reveal... a phallus shaped stuffie with a kawaii smile, blushing and all. Beretta's blue eyes flicker upward and stared at him with a blank expression, looking down then look at him again, before she begins laughing loudly, her cackles echoing through the wide open space and her fingertips brushing her long black tresses and the other hand covering her mouth. Worick parrots back in chuckles, genuinely amused, but even more enamored with the way she laughed. He could tell she hasn't been like this in a while. "Yeah, I figured you'd like it, he's your new buddy." he chuckles lightheartedly as Bellatrix slaps him lightly on the shoulder before tossing the stuffie at him. "去你的, get the FUCK out of my face!" she laughs, her courtesan composure is gone if only for a minute, something he rarely sees, something she likely reserves for the people she truly, genuinely loves. And that was enough for him.

Minimi's shoulders rolled as he inhales, before exhaling, staring at the other Corsicans present before his tattooed hands clasp together at the sight of Bernardo Corsica in the corner of the room, with a pink croptop on. "Why am I here and who brought the twink." he deadpans, his one seeing eye staring at his former boss, waiting for an explanation. Not that he particularly cared as a vincian persay but, one, he came her fully dressed as an oyabun of the local yakuza should be, and two, why the fuck was Bernardo here when he had no clear ranking? Grandson privileges, probably. Uranos dismisses his complaints with a wave of his hand, before Bernardo clapped his hands once together. "Me, I brought myself here because I'm a jack of all trades!" If there was ever a time that there was an imaginary camera of life, Masaru would probably be staring into one right now. From a few seats away from him Svetlana's hand slides down her face with a soft groan, "Let's just... please get on with it." she mutters underneath her breath when right beside her Maverick seemed like she was staring into nothing - flat effect, probably - showing no emotion other than biting the inside of her lip, a display of mild amusement intertwined with annoyance. "Oui, s'il vous plait. For my sanity." she murmurs quietly. I'm here for you. He's known her for years at this point. Sig shifts from beside her, lollipop in mouth as her tongue encircles it, "Yeah, let's get this shitshow on the road, Mr. C!" Colt dips his head in agreement. "Yes." he agrees, saying nothing else, though his expression said it all: I don't wanna be here, get me the fuck out of here. Beretta flutters her lashes from beside Uranos, "Victor, sweetling," she coos, turning her head slightly to the older man, "get the blueprint!!" "Yes, ma'am." From the doorway, Georgiana smokes from her cigar, unamused by all this, mutters under her breath. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only sane one here..."

[ladyimaginarium]

The sound of crickets chirping outside, Rosie's quiet snoring at the edge of her bed and the faint sound of whatever was playing on TV filled the atmosphere with a sense of peace that Clementine hasn't felt in weeks. Summer nights like this were cruel sometimes and the heat didn't make it better. Nothing was a bigger bitch than C-PTSD episodes at night, though, but Marlon is here, and he grounds her by holding her here with him in place, a cigarette in between his fingers as he exhales smoke away from her face. Clem breathes him all in, Marlborough reds, ashwood, the tide of ocean, the faint smell of his blood when he came to her house earlier that evenings because his mother's shitty boyfriend beat and kicked his ass out of his own house with his mother doing nothing, and with no one else home, she kept him here. Golden eyes flicker to the clock on her nightstand. 3:33. Her chin rests on his forehead while he buries his face in the crook of her neck.

Yet another week of exams was coming but right now that was the last thing on their minds. “Rebecca called me earlier today. Imma' babysit AJ in the afternoon while she and Alvin do their errands an' shit, then James wants to borrow me for another quick photoshoot and then get on Zoom to study with Aasim. You can come with if you want.” Clem offers, and Marlon chuckles lightheartedly. “Yeah. AJ'll wanna see Rosie, too, and we can't deny him that.”

Clem nods in agreement. Ah, yes, Rosie was a lovely service dog.

After a moment of silence, she murmurs, “I love you.” her voice is soft and hushed.

“I love you, too.”

And that was all they needed for tonight. Just each other.

[ladyimaginarium]

i hate the way you're still under my flesh and in my bones and wrapped around my throat like a noose the way spiked thorns fuck you over when you touch them and the way i have to call the line of faceless angels to seek solace from the apocalypse you brought on my body even all these years later and you're only a ghost on my skin. i'll never forget the way you looked at me like you were ready to swallow me whole and paced around the room circling your prey and how it rained a downpour. i had to please you for years in order to keep myself alive. because when you're born in a house on fire, you think the entire world's set ablaze and you have nowhere to run. there are still days where i want to slaughter you and mutilate your body and feed your corpse to my dog. anything to reassure myself that you won't hurt me anymore.

[imaginariancathouse]

striker immediately rolling over, grabbing beretta by the hips, hiking up what little of her dress covers & rutting into her. 💕

[imaginariancathouse]

connie fucks marco real good on shabbat 💕

[imaginariancathouse]

beretta sucking the soul out of striker and/or worick...

[ladyimaginarium]

can we just go back to 2020 before it all fell apart. 2019, even. CAN WE PLEASE FUCKING GO BACK. can we go back to 2020. can we be that young wild and free again. can we laugh like we used to. can you sing in my ear like you used to. because it feels like im covered in blood and daggers are protruding through my chest and im haunted by what was here between us, something i can seemingly never have back. and that deep, dark abyss, the black hole in my chest hasn't been filled since. you're everywhere and i can't get you out no matter how hard i try. it seems like you're not coming back and its not fucking fair. life isnt fair and ive had my share of trials and tribulations but with you despite everything it all felt worth it. it's like when the national said i want to hurry home to you, put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up.

and it's 4:44 now.

[ladyimaginarium]

clementine loves megan thee stallion ik her personally

[ladyimaginarium]

The door opens as footsteps approach and I turn around with bright eyes when you come into the kitchen. I have a beautiful blue tichel to cover my hair, while I've been busy baking both challah and bannock bread for the both of us for Shabbat. Your fond smile is all I need as I run to you and jump in your arms and you spin me around like a child as laughter fills our apartment. Our lips meet, cool, soft and slightly chapped from the cold winter outside but I don't mind at all. You had a long day, I can tell from your sleepy eyes, so we take our time to eat dinner I made as my service dog having an off day pads over to greet you by licking your hands. We go to bed early tonight and as per mitzvah you make me yours and when we're done, entangled in each other's arms, we slowly fall asleep. We both can't wait for the sun to rise, because tomorrow is our day off for Shabbat.

And we can't be more excited.

[ladyimaginarium]