#i love that they were playing them on a line to get a feel for chemistry

[stardustandash]

How many fics have you worked on since January?

Worked on about 55? I think? Its hard to calculate as I posted whumptober and febuwhump as individual stories but they exist in one doc each on my computer. I've worked on 6 fics that are either as of yet unposted, unprinted in a zine, or just lost unfinished limbo (I need to work on my merrin-focused post nur fic omg)

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

I guess I've tried to play more with present vs past tense, and finishing multichapter fics before posting. Did try out a time loop for the first time during whumptober and had fun with that!

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I feel like Star Wars is the pretty obvious answer, though right at the end of the year here comes Dragon Age with a steel chair after 4 years of not really being involved in the fandom

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Seven, I think! Jedi Fallen Order & Survivor, The Bad Batch, Dragon Age Inquisition & Veilguard, FFXV, FFXVI, Horizon Zero Dawn & Forbidden West, and Twisted Wonderland

5. What ships captured your heart?

As a gen writer its rare for ships to catch me, but thank you Veilguard for giving me Rook x Harding, and M!Rook x Emmrich. (Not a fan of F!Rook x Emmrich sorry yall)

7. What characters captured your heart?

As always Cal remains number 1 in my heart. I love him so much, along with the whole Mantis crew <3 For new this year, I am bewitched body and soul by the Veilguard crew. The writers were cooking with all of them, they're all amazing!!

8. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

...Does Veilguard count lol? For new fandoms I wrote one FFXVI fic early in the year.

I've got two fics for Rook x Harding and one wip for Rook x Emmrich as new ships!

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

That's a hard question!! I think I poured a lot of my own personal emotional anguish into a lot of the fics I wrote this year. It's been a rough year for many reasons, and writing out all that angsty hurt/comfort helped a lot

10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

I think finishing 'what makes a family' was honestly one of the best feelings ever! And the fact that I still get comments on it from time to time about people binge-reading it.

11. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

I guess I could go with the above, but actually completing whumptober was pretty satisfying.

12. What fic was the most difficult to write?

'i do not love the bright sword for its sharpness' is at the top of this pile. i think about it constantly but actually writing it is proving super difficult, and it remains unfinished...

13. What fic was the easiest to write?

The one for the Pabu Days zine!! I wrote the first draft in just over an hour, and it was about 1k too many words lol

14. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

of the ones written entirely in this year, 'take a breath before the plunge' wins with its 11k words. If we count just completed this year, 'what makes a family' wins at just shy of 70k

The shortest was one of the whumptober fics, 'where flesh and metal meet'

15. What were your go-to writing songs?

The Horizon games' soundtracks! Less of a song list, but there's too many to put in here.

What was the hardest fic to title?

...all of them. Titling things is the hardest part of writing fics

16. What's your favorite title of the year?

Love and Blood Both Run Red, or maybe Cold But For Your Company

17. Share your favorite opening line

In some way, Tech thinks, it is poetic to die for his family.

From here, at the bottom

18. Share your favorite ending line

He turned, and came face to face with a skull staring back at him. There were holes through the skull, and though everything had been decayed by time, Cal could still see that the skeleton wore Jedi robes.

From then there was nothing

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

ooh i don't know! If its humorous then assume its one of my favourites

20. Share your funniest line

see above

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

I think being able to slip back into old fandoms and characters for whumptober was a surprise. it didn't change the story but it was surprisingly quick to get back into things i hadn't touched in years

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

I use microsoft word for all my fics. which isn't great for longform fic and probably why i don't write too much of it

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Again, actually managing to complete whumptober felt really good!! I've never managed to finish a writing challenge like that so it was a really proud moment

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

I don't think I've ever done anything?? Though I am thinking about starting a lil scrapbook of comments or smth like that

25. How did you recharge between fics?

what is this recharge you speak of? I am either possessed by ideas that demand attention or left in a drought of creativity

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

I do playlists for myself sometimes. I have ones for Cal, Crosshair, and Omega right now. I constantly wish i had the patience to improve my art skills to do fanart

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

4 if you count febuwhump and whumptober. I'm in a Bad Batch zine that's in preorders right now - Pabu Days, and participating in a fic/art exchange for new years for Twisted Wonderland

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

firstly I'd like to thank my cat for being the one to hear me talk out plot points and details. I'd also like to thank @pennflinn and @breakfastteatime for being both supportive of all my j:fo fics as well as being inspirations themselves in that fandom! And the whole j:fo fandom at large for being awesome and supportive of each other's works. And I need to mention @fanfoolishness for joining me in not one, not two, but THREE! fandoms here!! As well, shoutout to @shadowcrow for yelling on my rook x harding fics! it's a small corner of the fandom but at least it's got you there!

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Finish this fic for the new years exchange, and get another chapter of Blood and Love Both Run Red up! Though it may only be one of those that happens...

30. What would you like to write next year?

I wanna finish bright sword and get that post nur Merrin fic postable! And since I'm currently consumed by Veilguard I wanna write more of that next year too!

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[star2fishmeg]

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ

Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | (comfort angst, fluff) | all it took was a terrible headache for y/n to break and really tell Luke what was wrong, and he provides the best remedy Authors Note | please accept this blurb based on a dream caused by a criminal headache I had while I get through celly blurbs and my inbox🥺

The headache that’d haunted her all day only pounded worse, pain relief only doing so much to ease the aching. Luke felt useless, there was only so much he could do and taking the pain away was not one of them. All he could do was gently caress her thigh hooked over his legs and hold her to his chest, arm wound around her waist and providing a kiss on her forehead every now and then. 

Her fingers traced feathery patterns over his skin, changing between his chest and following the ridges of his abs down to his v-line, feeling the heat that radiated off his body and embracing hers. They lay in silence, listening to breathing fall into sync and the video quietly playing from Luke’s phone and her brain worked overtime, the cogs turning and falling into the deepest pits of the human conscience, comments she’d read and heard emerging from her memory. The gossip pages, the media, other girlfriends and wives and maybe they were right. Maybe she wasn’t right for him; not mature enough, not established enough, not flexible enough and not pretty enough. 

Wetness seeped onto his bare skin, and he closed his phone, placing it onto the sheets before cupping her cheek, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, head just hurts.” She slid her hand over his stomach, cuddling into him but his fingers took her jaw, tilting her head up to face him. Worry spread across his face, eyes widening softly, eyebrows pulling together slightly.

“Y/n…” he said concerned, “talk to me, what’s it you always tell me? We’re a team?”

She paused and sighed, “Jus’...sometimes the people are right, I don’t deserve you. You’re this big-time, hotshot hockey player and I have nothing to my name, jus’ some chick.”

His grip around her tightened and he let her face go, slowly pulling her on top of his body completely, with consideration to the pounding in her head. Luke never liked the media and knew it came with his career, but when it impacted the people he loved the most, then he had a personal problem with it. His jaw tensed when more tears spilt onto his chest silently.

“Oh, angel,” Luke’s hand settled on the back of her head tenderly, brushing loose strands of hair away from her face while his arm secured around her middle, “who said that? You know that’s not true-” “-but it just is, Lu. Not a thriving model, not a career woman, just y/n who still relies on her parents half the time. Getting a part-time job has been tragic and while you’re working your ass off out there, I’m just sitting around.” She sobbed, Luke’s stomach twisting and he kissed her head. 

He’d never been confident in sharing how he felt, never being able to find the right words but with so much adrenaline and heartache running through his system, they seemed to fall off his tongue with a rawness to them. 

“But you’re not just ‘some chick’. That’s why I love you. You’re y/n. You’re a student who’s graduating soon, in a field she enjoys and you’re literally only twenty. Just because you aren’t living a life someone else is, doesn’t make you any less of a person. I don’t care that you’re not a public figure or whatever. Actually, I like that you aren’t and wish we went to college together because that would’ve been cool, so many parties to make out at. My point is that you bring normality, and I don’t care if you have a job or not, I’m always gonna support you in everything because I love you.” 

Y/n’s lip quivered, heart swelling as the sweet confession soaked into her ears. Typical Luke, even when he didn’t realise it, he always knew what to say. She pushed herself up onto her forearms, palms flat on his chest and his hands followed the curve of her spine up to her shoulder blades and down to her ass, soothingly with a small, comforting smile. 

He cupped her cheek, using his thumb to wipe one of her eyes before she melted into his palm, “Thank you, I love you so much.”

She leant in, pressing a long and slow kiss to his lips, moaning when he groped her ass and giggling. He didn’t mind taking that extra breath if it meant he could listen to her giggle and light up again. Luke slid his hand to the back of her neck, goosebumps running along her skin, and he pulled her into another adoring kiss. A kiss worth a thousand more words, with warmth, a deep kiss with his mouth opening to invite her tongue to meet his and lick into her mouth. She was just y/n and Luke wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[makeyoumine69]

Merry Christmas, Bitch!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: On your way to the American Gardens Building for your family's Christmas party, you suddenly meet a mysterious man from the 11th floor, unaware that your days were already numbered the moment he set his eyes on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NONCON smut, dark angst, sedating, kidnapping, blood play & kink, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, spitting, multiple orgasms, rough vaginal and anal sex, creampie, dumbification, humiliation, vaginal & butt plugs, sex torture, canonical violence, sex toys, swearing, dirty talk, pet names, masturbating, pussy slapping, nipple play, finger sucking and maybe something more.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 6k

𝐀/𝐍: Merry Christmas everyone! Since the dark option won the poll for the Christmas Special, I brought you this, hehe! I hope you enjoy it, but please read the warnings first!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]🪓

Christmas Eve was one of the busiest times of the year when people would go shopping like crazy and all the stores were so crowded that sometimes you had to spend a lot of time standing in line, but that was something you got used to because it was not a big problem at all. What was really a problem was the fact that you had to work during Christmas and that was really frustrating even though your parents tried to reassure you that they would wait for you and wouldn't start celebrating. That was really sweet of them, but it didn't really help with your exhaustion after a long day at work, and you still had to buy something for Christmas, which completely slipped off your mind - you loved making presents for your family, but oh, sometimes it was so hard to guess what present would really surprise them.

Walking down the street one block away from the American Gardens Building—a place where your parents lived—you stopped at the ATM to get some cash, and from that moment on you had the feeling that someone was watching you, but every time you turned around you saw no one. Although it was not very late, the streets were pretty empty, so when you accidentally bumped into a stranger while walking away from the ATM, you got really scared, but after a brief exchange of apologies, you and the stranger, who turned out to be an old man, walked off in different directions. Still, something was nagging at you, a strange fear, the nature of which you couldn't really comprehend.

A little later, you realized that most of the stores were already closed, so buying a gift was not really an option—you would have to do it tomorrow—but at least you managed to get some flowers for your mother. Soon you reached the American Gardens building—an embodiment of luxury that towered over the streets like a silent sentinel. Holding a bouquet of flowers and opening the heavy door that refused to let you through suddenly became a challenge for you, if not for the mysterious stranger who appeared out of nowhere.

"Need some help?" The man asked, and somewhere you recognized that deep, velvety voice. 

As you turned, you set your eyes on the handsome young man holding a briefcase in one hand and a cigar in the other. "Oh, that would be much appreciated," you replied, watching as he gallantly opened the door for you. "The doorman is probably off today."

"Pretty sure he does, it's Christmas," he said, and you both went in, passing the concierge, who nodded politely when he saw the two of you. "Do you live here? I think I’ve definitely met you before.”

As you walked through the polished lobby to the elevators, his question made you wonder where else you could see him other than here, since he seemed to live here, but then a flash of memories pierced through your head like a bunch of small fireworks.

"Patrick Bateman, right?" You smiled and pressed the flowers closer to your chest as you both stood by the elevators, waiting. "I don't live here, but my parents do," the man gave you a cheerful grin, and then the elevator arrived with a characteristic ding. "I remember you used to talk to my dad about some communal problems and stuff."

"Oh, right! Now I totally remember."

 As you both entered the elevator and the door closed smoothly behind you, Patrick leaned against the metal wall right next to the control panel, while you stood almost right next to the door, the bouquet of white roses feeling the enclosed space with their sweet scent. 

"What floor do you live on?" You asked as the elevator began its ascent.

"Eleventh," Bateman replied briefly, rummaging in the pocket of his trench coat with a rustle. "Just above the floor where your family lives."

Standing half-turned, you could see his looming figure beside you in the reflection of the gleaming metal door of the elevator, and though your inner voice screamed that something was definitely wrong, you couldn't move, as if paralyzed by an invisible spell.

Subtly, Patrick slipped the white piece of cloth out of his pocket, though his face was still blank, not a single muscle twitching, as the mask he wore was practiced to perfection, making it impossible for anyone around to read what was on his mind.

"Hmmm, you surprised me," he murmured suddenly, slowly approaching you. "I really thought you would recognize me right away."

"I have a bad memory for faces," your breathing hitched as you said that. "Meeting too many people every day doesn't help."

Tensed to the limit, you looked up at the small display where the floor numbers changed one by one, and when you finally saw the tenth floor, you felt relieved, but it was too premature, because the doors didn't open. A bone chilling fear crept into your chest, your heart beating fast against your ribcage, and the second you heard Bateman move behind your back, you were on the verge of screaming— unfortunately it was too late.

With a practiced motion, the man pressed a piece of cloth over your mouth. "Shhhh," he grabbed your trembling little form, giving you no chance to fight him, for he was much stronger, much bigger, and the strange odor that filled your nostrils made you see black holes between your eyes. "You don't want anyone to hear you...especially your dear family."

You tried desperately to hit him with the bouquet, but the harder you struggled, the tighter he held you in his arms. The second tears began to form in the corners of your eyes, your consciousness too fuzzy to think rationally, you realized that you were slowly passing out, but the rush of adrenaline was still kicking in.

"Mmhhm!" You squealed as loud as you could, your hands squashing the flowers with a deadly grip, their sharp thorns sinking into your soft skin, but you couldn't feel it anymore. "Mmhm-help!"

Annoyed, the man clenched his teeth and grabbed your throat, almost strangling you here and there as he realized the chemical he used was not enough to knock you out. "If you don't shut your damn mouth," Patrick hissed, pulling you against his strong torso. "I'll break your fucking neck!"

Sobbing into the fabric now drenched in your tears and saliva, your eyes began to roll back in your head as your body slowly but surely went limp, and then you lost your grip on the bouquet, letting it fall to your feet on the elevator floor. Sensing that you were on the verge of fainting, Bateman increased the force of his grip around your neck, pinching the carotid artery until you finally lost consciousness, going weak in his hands like a broken doll.

With a weary sigh, the man kicked the flowers aside, scooped you closer in his arms, and stroked your face with a devilish smile that played on his smug face—a dark gleam sparkled in his dark, mad eyes. "Good girl," he purred into your ear, knowing you couldn't hear him anymore, giving you a light peck on the top of your head before lifting you up and pressing the 11th floor button on the control panel. "Say goodbye to your fucking parents, princess." With those words, Patrick took your hand and waved at the closed elevator door, while his other hand was busy pushing the handkerchief into your mouth to use as a gag in case you suddenly woke up.

Almost a month ago.

It was the last weekend of November and you decided to pay a visit to your family since you hadn't seen them in a long time. Your mother didn't even let you say a word when you entered the apartment because she was so excited to see you, but when you noticed an unfamiliar voice coming from the dining room, you stopped in your tracks and gave the old lady a confused look.

"I didn't know you had guests besides me," you said, taking off your coat. "Who is that?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's Mr. Bateman, he's our neighbor," your mother replied, gently rubbing your shoulder. "He just came by to talk to your father about the problems with the central heating."

Frowning, you didn't say anything in response, just followed your mother down the hall, and soon after you turned the corner, you took a moment to examine this "neighbor", not really noticing that he was looking at you in the same curious way.

This staring contest continued for some time until your father noticed your presence and gestured to the dining table for you to join them. "Don't stand there, darling. There's no need to be shy," he said, waving you over—you didn't know how to refuse in this situation, so you just obeyed. "Patrick, this is my dear daughter!"

As soon as your father said your name, Patrick gave you a toothy smile before taking your palm in his and planting a soft kiss on it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't even find the right words to reply, but your mother came out of nowhere with the tray of drinks and treats like your savior. The old lady placed the cups of freshly brewed coffee, a bowl of candies and various cookies, small milk chocolates and some truffles. Then she returned to the kitchen, excusing herself that she had to finish cooking dinner.

"So you guys have some serious communal issues here or what?" You asked, sipping your coffee and trying to escape Bateman's scrutinizing gaze.

"Well, I have to say that our utilities are in no hurry to correct the situation," Patrick explained, his hazel eyes tracing your face and then your lips as if he were deliberately humiliating you. "I heard that people on the second floor saw some rats."

"Rats?" You asked in disbelief. "I can't believe it! You're practically living in the most expensive neighborhood in Manhattan."

Your father sighed and put his hands on the table. "It's New York, darling. It's possible that our utility company just doesn't have enough money to maintain our building."

After your father finished his rant about the hard life in New York and how sometimes even rich people could have mundane problems like that, there was a brief moment of silence that was broken by your mother, who reentered the dining room with a phone in her hand. 

"Honey, your doctor is calling," she chirped, getting everyone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Uh, please excuse me," the old man got up from the table and took the phone. "I'll be right back."

With that, your parents left the dining room, and for a moment, you had a panic attack—this man, Patrick Bateman, whose lips curled even more after the two of you were left alone, made you feel uncomfortable, but you couldn't even tell why.

Coughing nervously, you took another sip of coffee to clear your throat. "So," you began after the pause had become unforgivably long. "How are you going to celebrate Christmas?" God, that was probably the stupidest and most primitive question you ever asked, but your brain just refused to work properly. "People used to plan such things in advance."

Bateman raised the mug to his lips and looked at you over the rim. "Let me think," unlike you he drank black tea and never even touched any sweets. "Probably going to some Christmas party. No big deal though." The man licked his lips after another sip, and that gesture sent a tingle through your core that forced you to avert your eyes. "What about you? Pretty ladies like you usually spend Christmas with their loved ones?"

You almost choked on your coffee, choosing not the best time to take another refreshing sip, just to do something instead of sitting idle. "I...uh...to be honest, I don't...don't have any particular company for this Christmas, and besides, I have to work, so..."

"Really? Work? Oh, that sucks," Patrick complained worriedly. "Our government should make it illegal to work on Christmas."

Damn, this man was blessed with charisma and a gab that made you feel like a schoolgirl on her first date. 

"Yeah, you're right," you managed to say, not really able to hide the broad smile that appeared on your face. "They definitely should."

A metallic, salty smell filled your nostrils. It took several attempts to finally open your eyes, as the lids seemed so heavy, as if they each weighed a ton. Blinking in confusion from the surrounding darkness, you suddenly felt something dripping on you—a warm, slightly sticky liquid, but when you managed to focus your vision, you noticed that it seemed to be red in color, and then you screamed, but you couldn't hear your voice as something tightly covered your mouth. After a few soft footsteps, a familiar voice echoed through the room, but you couldn't tell where exactly.

"Welcome back," Patrick crooned, stopping somewhere not far away when you heard his voice more clearly. "You had me worried," he said as he turned on the switch and the blinding light made your eyes water from its sharpness and you could finally look around to find yourself lying on the bed in a spacious room with white walls. "Because for a moment I thought you would never wake up."

Weeping quietly, you tried to move your limbs, but it didn't work either, because something was holding you tight. With all the strength you had left, you craned your neck to see a red ribbon wrapped around you, the way Christmas presents were usually wrapped, and you realized that the red liquid was blood...your blood? The thought almost made you vomit, but the duct tape on your mouth stopped you from making any sound.

"Do you like the ribbon? I think red really suits you, although I was thinking of picking something more innocent for you...pink or white or maybe beige," the man kept muttering in a casual tone that only added to the creepiness of the situation. "Oh, I forgot you can't talk," Bateman giggled, slowly sauntering across the room holding something shiny in his hands. "I got rid of your clothes because you looked like shit in them."

Damn it, did he really dare to do that? Tugging at the ribbon with your hands, you closed your eyes tightly, denying that everything here was real - you just needed to find a way to wake up from this nightmare.

But Patrick had other plans, and giving you a break was definitely not one of them, as he quickly rushed to the bed and hovered over you, pressing something sharp against your mound, and then you felt a searing pain as a cold metal cut your skin, as if you were not made of flesh and bones, but of some wax.

"Mhwwww," you cried in pain, jerking on the bed as you heard the oilcloth rustle beneath you. A small scarlet trail of your hot blood ran down your hip after another cut. No matter how hard you tried to free yourself, Bateman knew what he was doing, as the ribbon was securing you just the way he wanted , but still you were writhing as if you were lying on the burning coals. "Mmhm-ple-lease," you managed to whimper through the tape as it became soaked with your saliva. "S-s-t-top," your legs trembled uncontrollably as the man lowered the knife to your now exposed cunt, sliding the blade along your salacious folds but never pressing too hard. "Please-se."

You could even recognize your own voice because of how badly it was distorted. The fact that this psycho was waiting for you to wake up so that you could feel and see everything he was going to do to you made you so disgusted that you almost bit your own tongue. It would be much better if he just killed you and you could only guess what monstrous things he was going to do to you.

"What a pretty little pussy you have," Patrick grinned to himself, the knife still pointed at your womanhood. "When was the last time you had sex?" His question—so full of mockery and disgust, but he was so damn proud of it—remained unanswered, and he didn't bother to ask you again, because in reality he certainly didn't give a fuck. "You're dripping... and bleeding. I hope you know what that means? Luckily, we still have some time before you bleed out completely."

With his eyes still on you, Bateman got up from the bed and brought the knife to his mouth to lick your blood and flavor from it, savoring the taste—you could swear you heard him moan with satisfaction and that sound sent chills all over your body. That was insane. That was wrong. That was sick. And you were the witness to this depravity—you were literally the victim placed on the altar to satisfy all the dark needs of this beast.

Slowly, Patrick got rid of his suit, then his luxury loafers and garters. When the silk boxers were the only thing left on him, the man stopped and, unfortunately for you, walked back to you, but without actually getting on the bed, the man lifted his leg and placed it on the edge of the mattress next to your feet to get a prosper look at your naked, tortured, bleeding frame.

"People usually give each other presents for Christmas," he chimed in suddenly. "And since you already gave me a present," he pointed at your quivering figure lying beneath him. "You can ask me for anything," Bateman sneered in a teasing initiation. "But no cheating, you can't just ask me to let you go."

Panting, you closed your eyes for a fleeting second to consider the possible outcomes and whether you had any chance of getting out alive. Considering the circumstances—probably not. At one point, you even thought that asking him to give you a quick death was the best option, but then you reassured yourself that it was too early to give up.

Rocking from side to side, you mumbled something incoherently through the handmade gag, causing a hearty laugh to break out from Patrick's broad chest. "What is it, honey? Would you like me to remove it?" He leaned down to run his finger along your covered mouth. "All right, all right," he smiled wickedly and tugged at the edge of the tape. "But think twice before you say anything if you don't want it shoved down your throat."

A brief sting of pain rippled through your system as he removed the damned piece of tape and you were finally able to breathe properly, too close to choke on your own saliva. Never stopping to grin, the man stepped back to the floor and gave you an impatient stare in anticipation of your begging.

"You... c-can do whatever you want to me, but please... don't touch my family, sir." Every syllable you said took a lot of strength, but when you finished, Bateman couldn't hold back a wicked, maniacal chuckle. 

"Holy shit," he grinned wildly, a knife still in one of his hands while another darted across the toned muscles of his chest before it reached his briefs and he grabbed his groin, rubbing his rock hard dick through the expensive material. "I can't remember the last time someone called me sir as sexy as that, you're something, little one," and with that Patrick finally raked his underwear down to free his thick cock, which sprang out like a fucking arrow. "See, I don't give a fuck about your family," his eyebrows furrowed as he began to stroke himself, the swollen tip already drooling with his pre-cum, which he smeared all over his shaft to smooth the friction. "And I'm gonna have my way with you in every possible scenario. So... enjoy the ride and try not to bleed out before I'm done with you."

Bateman quickly pulled his boxers back and got on top of you, and you began to thrash around on the bed with reckless abandon, giving it everything you had.  "You... fucking monster... they will find you and lock you up in prison. You..." His big palm covered your mouth harshly, silencing you as if you were a little bug. In the end, Patrick sealed your mouth with the same duct tape, although it wasn't that sticky, he didn't care because the next thing he did was get up and walk out of the bedroom into another room.

For a moment you thought he went for some deadly weapons like scalpel and he was going to dissect you, cut out your intestines and fucking eat them while you were still alive. But then music began to play somewhere in the distance—a male vocal that was so familiar, but your tormented mind couldn't figure out who it belonged to.

Within a few seconds, the motherfucker was back, this time holding a strange bundle of wires and electronic chips—you watched him in undisguised horror, even though your neck was in excruciating pain from being in such a crooked position.

"Listen to this masterpiece," he hummed mostly to himself as he placed his belongings next to your bound limbs. "Have you heard it before?" Bateman's question forced you to try to roll onto your side, but your body just wouldn't listen. "This is one of my personal favorites by Genesis. 'Land of Confusion'—an epic meditation on intangibility, you can get the meaning of this song from the opening lines alone."

All the while, the man was attaching some clamps to your nipples, which were hard from the cool air in the room. What was this thing? Was he going to burn you with electricity or something? Until you were nothing but ashes. Just the thought of it made your eyes water in a new wave of panic—you didn't want to die, you didn't want to be here—you tried to think of your family, but it only made things worse. Patrick literally sang the lyrics of the song in a soft, peaceful way, like he was doing something casual, but not torturing a poor woman he had knocked out and then kidnapped. The clamps he put on your little tips were connected by wires to a small device that looked like a TV controller, with a precise movement he placed another clamp between your legs, he had to lose the ribbon a bit to spread your hips, and after he pinched your clit, he placed a small clamp right there and pressed it hard into your flesh.

"Mhmm," you let out a muffled gasp as he finished his wicked preparation. "Mmm-please..d-don't do that!"

Biting his lower lip, Bateman picked up the device to press the button and then you felt an electric shock pierce through every little pitch of your body, but it was not real electricity, it was the pulsation that set all your nerve endings on fire. Although you tried to close your legs and avoid the vibration—it seemed to be impossible as Patrick prepared all this absolutely perfectly, he knew how you would try to act, he knew exactly how he had to tie you up.

"Not exactly what you expected?" The man chuckled, watching in pure awe as you twitched along the oilcloth, your chapped skin itching with every frantic move, but you didn't care because you were about to bite into that damn tape from that strange sensation that was coiling in your gut. "'Looking good, princess... but this mode is for weaklings. You can do better, right?"

The man took his previous position beside the bed, but this time he took off his briefs completely, his dick throbbing, so full of blood and the moment he grabbed it, every vein on it tensed, ready to burst.  

"Ah-fuck," he groaned, pumping himself faster and faster, every move of his hand greedy and desperate as the muffled sounds you made only fueled him more and more. "You whimper so sweetly, girl."

Tilting his head, Bateman switched the vibration to another mode that was much more intense, making you want to pass out, your pussy now soaking wet from your flavor, your blood drying a bit, now draping your skin in a crimson ornament.

"A-awwhhhhh," you managed to cry out through the gag, your hands aching so badly from being tied up like that for such a long time, but the way those fucking little clamps were working you up, sending millions of little needles into the bundles of your nerves, was something you couldn't handle. "Mmhm-turn it-t off!"

The tape was only partially covering your mouth now because the moisture from your mouth made it so wet, but Patrick didn't care even if you started to scream louder— it seemed like everything was going according to his plan. With the grace of a predator, he stood in front of your trembling legs to spread them, and in one smooth motion, he plunged two fingers at once, curling and twisting them to find the right spot that would make you explode. 

"Easy, easy," he cooed as he dipped his long fingers deeper until he reached the spongy joint inside your throbbing slit, and then Bateman began to rub it more persistently. "Your cunt wants to break my fingers or what? Uh, so greedy...starving for a good fuck."

Patrick's words triggered something that was hiding at the very bottom of your sophisticated mind—something you never knew about—it unsettled you in every possible way, both physically and mentally.

The moment of your orgasm could be compared to a waterfall that broke everything in its path, it was unstoppable and brutal, but the torturing vibration didn't stop, nor did Bateman, in fact he did just the opposite, the second he felt you clench around his fingers, the man began to move them faster, scissoring them, then burying them deep down to the knuckles, continuing to stimulate you in this way, feeling the vibration of the torturing device that coursed through your clit, adding to the whole mess. 

"Mhmm-enough!" Your voice sounded even louder than a scream, it was a fucking cry for mercy. "Please...please...p-please-"

As soon as he added another finger, you climaxed again, this time even more vividly and you nearly choked on your spit, you stuck out your tongue involuntarily, your eyes rolled back in your head, but as if that was not enough, you felt an overwhelming, strange sensation in your lower abdomen and before you knew it, you were squirting so hard that everything underneath you was soaked. 

Watching you gush like a fucking fountain, Bateman couldn't help but grin in dark satisfaction. "Look at you, literally pissing yourself from how good I make you feel."

Completely out of breath, you made no protest as he hovered over your face to kiss you through the wet tape, his tongue sliding along the edge but not going deeper, and that was only a matter of time. With a raspy groan, Patrick removed the gag completely, leaving itchy marks on your skin, but you were too stunned to react, to resist, to fucking breathe?

"Let's see if you can take my dick as well as you took my fingers," he brushed his fat cock against your wet opening, feeling the aftershocks still running through your inner muscles. "You little filthy bitch," his heavy, bulky body pressed you down like a fucking stone, making it impossible to move. "Every little hole of yours is mine to ruin now." And then he bit your cheek, almost taking a chunk out, you screamed, but he silenced you with his finger, shoving it so deep that you gagged in response, while he kept grinding against your abused body to make you feel how heavy his balls were, so fucking tight and full of cum. 

Despite your urge to bite his finger, all you could do was whimper around it as Bateman's large palm landed on your overstimulated pussy, the vibration never ceasing to take everything out of you, but the slaps made you cum again before the man aligned himself with you and slowly but possessively sheathed his cock inside you.

“Look at me,” he spat into your face and yanked your hair, almost scratching your scalp. “Fucking whore…pretending being so innocent and all for what?” Patrick pulled his finger out from your mouth only to kiss you hard on your lips, plunging his tongue inside of it, licking it out and sucking on your lips while his strong hips were bucking against yours, his cock so huge that it easily reached your cervix and it hurt so bad. “Only for me to make you moan like a slut!”

Opening your mouth wide, the man spit into it before plugging it again with his thumb. As much as you hated to admit that your body was enjoying the curve of his dick brushing against your already too sensitive G-spot, you couldn't stop yourself from cumming, even though the multiple orgasms were about to kill you. When Bateman found the remote again, without even looking, he set the speed to maximum and threw it away, only to stop abruptly and pull out. That was the little pause you craved, the fleeting second to catch your breath, but it didn't last long as he cupped your breasts and squeezed them painfully, your nipples about to explode from the crazy level of stimulation.

"Mmm...are they natural?" Bateman asked before slapping both of your tits and then squeezing them again. "It would be such a waste if you died right now."

The mischievous grin on his face changed to something more animalistic, but your vision was nothing but a white, shocking veil. With practiced ease, Patrick flipped you onto your stomach and positioned you on all fours, pressing your head flat against the mattress. The man had to tear the ribbon that held your legs together a little more so he could spread them the way he wanted. And then a fucking miracle happened—the vibration stopped—and when Bateman noticed, he cursed and grabbed the remote. You used it as your only chance to escape as he lost his grip on you. Shaking, barely breathing, you tried to crawl away from him, and you even managed to slip off the bed and fall to the floor.

"What the fuck are you doing, you stupid bitch?!" His angry baritone hit your eardrums like a fucking thunderclap, but the worst part was that you couldn't really move since you were nothing but a wet, shaking mess. "You soaked the floor with your fucking blood!"

Bateman didn't get up right away, but when he did, it took him several steps to approach your weak, exhausted frame. Smirking, he looked down at you before stomping on your shoulder blade until you screamed in pain as you thought he was going to crush your bones.

"Stop," your voice broke into a hushed squeal as you ran out of strength. "Just...k-kill me already."

"You don't have a say in this," Patrick removed his foot and grabbed your hair, starting to drag you somewhere you didn't know. "Fuck it...I have to clean the whole apartment anyway."

For a moment you seemed to black out, but only for a moment. The next room you were trapped in turned out to be a spacious living room, but the walls were as white as the bedroom - it felt like you were already in a morgue, the cold floor beneath your hot skin only intensifying this feeling. When the man finally lowered you to the floor, which was covered with many copies of various newspapers, mostly the Times, he placed you on your knees and elbows again before positioning himself behind you. Looking down at your sore pussy covered with his cum, he jerked off for several fleeting seconds that felt like an eternity to you, and you didn't even say a word, you didn't feel a thing, as if you were already dead. When he was hard again, Bateman slid inside you to the brim, stretching you even more in this position, but he still wanted more, so he pushed you face down on the floor, the smell of ink filling your nose, mixing with the smell of sex, sweat and your blood, making it hard for you to resist the urge to vomit, but you had no choice but to hold back as best you could.

Fucking you from behind at a relentless pace, Patrick closed his eyes and threw his head back, his hands holding you in place, using your body like a fuck toy, his girth brutally spreading your little channel in this position and from time to time Bateman would look down to see your cunt struggling to encompass him and it spurred him on to fuck you even harder until he was literally squatting down on you, fucking you in a doggy mating press. Each time he jackhammered into your malleable body, a wet, squelching sound would come from your pussy.

"You're... so tight," he breathed out suddenly, before pushing you down some more, almost cracking your skull from how hard he was pressing you to the floor. "Mmh-fuck!" That little rub on your overstimulated bud he gave you forced you to explode once again, that was another time he made you squirt, your soft inner walls milking him so hard, literally asking him to pump you with his cum and the next second he squatted down as hard as he could, sinking deep before he unloaded the dense ropes of his seed, pumping you hard until his cum began to flow down the insides of your hips, dripping down to the floor and thank God he had planned everything out and placed the newspapers. "So how does it feel to be a cum-dumster, honey?"

Sobbing, you didn't answer, but slipped to the floor and curled up, your knees pressed to your chest. How did you feel? There was probably no right answer to that question, but the only thing you could admit for sure was that this man had literally ripped your soul out of your body, and now you were nothing but an empty shell that had once been someone's daughter, someone's friend, someone's love? All these thoughts were like a whirlpool in your mind, you were drowning in the pain of being degraded to the point of losing your identity—could you be called human after this? 

Eventually your eyelids became too heavy and you drifted off for some time, you couldn't tell exactly how long you were unconscious, but the next thing you remembered was a painful sensation pooling all over your lower abdomen as Bateman pushed something like a plug into your creamy cleft to keep his cum inside you because he wanted to open you up later like a fucking bottle of champagne. After another hour of rough anal sex, Patrick was finally exhausted, your asshole was torn and bleeding, but it didn't bother him at all as he pushed another plug into your asshole.

Genesis' tape Invisible Touch seemed to be playing for the third time in a row, Patrick was sitting on the draped couch, naked, covered in your blood and his semen. He took a drag from his cigar and leaned back in his seat, admiring the view in front of him—you, standing on your knees, still naked and bruised, a shiny garland wrapped around you, making you look like a fucking Christmas tree. There was not even a one spot on your body that was left untouched and unscarred, as the man had spent a lot of time carving his initials into your skin, along with words like: hoe, slut, cum-dumster, fuck toy, and maybe something more.

Shaking pathetically, you opened your eyes to see him sitting smugly on the couch, still smoking his cigar. "Kill me...please...just kill me."

"Hey! Christmas trees don't talk," he grinned, fixing his messy hair before blowing out some smoke. "And they don't sob, so stop fucking crying!"

With an exhausted exhale you sat down, feeling the sharp thorns of the flowers you bought for your parents cutting into your knees, but that pain was nothing because there was nothing left of you in this body. 

"My family..." you murmured in a trembling voice. "They will find out..."

The man nodded as if he really believed what you said. "Don't worry about it. By the time they find out, your body will probably be dissolving somewhere," Patrick laughed as he noticed you almost falling to the floor. "I cut the phone line, so your family will need some time to fix everything." With that he got up and walked over to you. "You know, I really enjoyed this Christmas...maybe I'll keep you to myself," he stroked your bruised cheek. "I will personally express my condolences to your father about his loss. I promise you, sweetheart, no one and nothing will keep us apart. Not now, not ever."

Phill Collins' voice was still blaring in the background, but the lyrics slept away from you like your life slept away the moment you stepped into that damn elevator, because now your life didn't belong to you anymore.

♪ I must've dreamed a thousand dreams Been haunted by a million screams But I can hear the marching feet They're moving into the street Now did you read the news today? They say the danger's gone away But I can see the fire's still alight They're burning into the night There's too many men, too many people Making too many problems And not much love to go 'round Can't you see this is a land of confusion? This is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh) And these are the hands we're given (oh, oh, oh) Use them and let's start trying (oh, oh, oh) To make it a place worth living in ♪

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[revelboo]

Merry Christmas!Can we get something for Blaster?

Why not. I do like his Batman antenna. Just a note- I imagine the holomatter avatars look perfectly human. So perfect that they unconsciously freak real humans out. You look at them and your brain says, yep, that’s a human, while your subconscious is all animal instinct screaming that it’s not

Shoot Me In The Smile

Blaster x Reader

• Servos drumming on his console in the uncomfortable aftermath of Megstron’s broadcast, Blaster leans back and glances at Optimus. Listening to Ironhide’s belligerent disbelief that any Cybertronian would frag a human, his optics keep catching on the look their leader’s face. Knows that there’s more than a a few humans in the Ark. He’s seen them being carried about by their caretakers like exotic pets. But now he’s wondering about it. About Jazz sneaking out constantly and returning scenting like human. Of Optimus and Prowl both scenting much more strongly of the little organics than the other caretakers. And the almost pained look on Optimus’s face as Ironhide rants. They all have their secrets, he guesses. And he’s going to be late if he doesn’t go now.

• Putting your car in park, you press your forehead against the steering wheel. Count to ten to get yourself together, shut off the engine, and get out with a smile firmly in place. Pulling the awkward case out of the passenger side, you sling the strap over your shoulder and head inside. Spotting the rest of the band setting up, you throw up a hand in greeting and hear your drummer whoop at you. Making your way backstage, you start changing your clothes. Shedding yourself in favor of leather and glitter. Lining your eyes and painting your face until a stranger stares back at you. Someone who’s not timid, not terrified of crowds and overwhelmed by the noise and heat of the spotlights. The version of you that people actually like and you despise. “You should wear the wig tonight. They love it.” Turning, you smile weakly at your lead bassist, but oblige him. And it really is a stranger staring back now. All of you erased and gone.

• “Again?” Pausing at the door of his habsuite, he glances at Eject as the cassette frowns up at him in obvious disapproval. Because he has no idea how to explain the obsession. He’d found you on a local station, surfing the airwaves out of boredom. And realizing you were a local, that the bar you played out of was so close? He hadn’t been able to resist. Using his holomatter avatar to slip inside just to hear you play. Something about the dissonance in your music had called to him, wedging in his spark and his processor. Music almost frantic, pure rock and roll, but your vocals, ranging from sweet to haunting, are what had snagged him. “I won’t be out late,” he says as Eject vents and exchanges a look with Rewind, worrying about him.

• Lingering just off stage as your heart races, you study the see of faces milling about. And realize you’re looking for your guy. The one whose expression never changes, who just stares at you the whole time you sing making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You almost swear he doesn’t blink. That intense focus of his is unnerving. Fascinating and a little frightening. You can’t tell if he has a crush on you or if he’s deciding where to hide your body. As the lights dim, you blow out a shaky breath and move onto the stage with your band mates. Hand lifting to wave as you smile even though you’re shaking and can’t hardly breathe. This should get easier, right? Except it never does.

• Hiding in the woods outside the bar, he transforms into his alt mode so if he’s discovered while his attention is divided, all a human will see is a boombox, feeling the pull as he mass shifts down past what would be possible for a normal Cybertronian. Draining his reserves every time. Shivering slightly, he focuses on the avatar and it glitches into existence. There’s an errant thought as he walks to the bar. What do you think of his avatar? Do you like it? Generating an ID to show the human at the door, he makes his way inside, focusing to stay solid as he works his way to the front of the crowd. It wouldn’t do for someone to accidentally pass an arm through him and start screaming. And then there you are, guitar in hand, eyes closed as the lights dim and the spotlights bathe the stage in ruddy light. Hands shifting on the strings, your eyes open and unerringly find him as the music swells and you sing just for him. The crowd gone until it’s only you two.

They’re not patient at all

[warblogs17282]

I'm busy thinking about the fact that we can see how a lot of the conflict between Stolas and Octavia has roots in the unhealthy family dynamics brought on in Stolas' childhood.

Mainly inspired from a quote I heard from someone reacting to the episode, that being something along the lines of "Fucked up parents create fucked up children.", and tbh, I can kinda see that with Stolas and Octavia.

Also, let's get one other thing out of the way as well, the family dynamic Stolas and Octavia had before Blitz came into his life was never healthy at all.

The line 'You have always been the only good thing in my life!' hits really hard for a few reasons, with one of them being because it shows that before Blitz came into his life, Octavia was practically Stolas' whole life. Which naturally is not healthy for either of them, while your child is a very significant and important part of your life, they should still not be literally your entire life.

And well, Stolas being like that makes sense, you can see roots of that within Stolas' isolated childhood and upbringing, the only person Stolas had as a friend was Blitz when he was a child, and even then, they didn't see each other again for the next 25 years, leaving Stolas with basically no one else, no other friends to talk to, etc.

And you can see that manifest itself into the family dynamics between Stolas and Octavia, because Stolas has no social life at all outside of the family, and his family, which as a result, leads to Octavia being practically Stolas' whole world, as shown by that line he said.

The line is also quite interesting as well, because in one side, we have Octavia being practically Stolas' whole world, but I also believe the vice versa of that line is true as well.

Which I suppose is the segway into the section of what happens when an imp comes along and absolutely shatters that unhealthy family dynamic.

Something the show has made clear is that a lot of Octavia's life has also revolved around Stolas, which makes sense, but the issue here is that I'm pretty sure that almost all of Octavia's life revolved around Stolas or the family in some way, as I'm pretty sure that this also leads us to a conclusion that Octavia has no support system at all, no actual friends, etc. Which is something that we recognize is quite similar to Stolas, as he also had no support system, no friends, etc, until he met Blitz at that fateful party.

Especially if we consider the fact that Stella is both a neglectful and abusive parent, so it's not like Octavia had the support of both parents here, Octavia only had the support and attention of Stolas her entire upbringing and childhood.

You all remember the "so that girl could live a normal life" comment Stolas made in s2 e1? I believe that this family dynamic is exactly what Stolas was referring to when he said that, Stolas also believed that the family dynamic at play was a normal and healthy thing for the child, when it was anything but.

Which brings us into the events after Blitz came into Stolas' life, when that the family dynamics Stolas was referring to with that 'normal life' comment were completely shattered.

The family dynamics bring up something interesting to me about Octavia, I feel like her upbringing and childhood is also part of the reason as to why she feels like Stolas has abandoned and replaced her with Blitz, why she struggles to understand the fact that Stolas can care for and love Blitz a lot, while also caring for and loving her a lot as well.

Obviously there's more to the situation to it than just this, there's other things like Stolas failing to properly explain the situation and other things that Octavia really should've known, to give an example. But at the same time, I still can't help but think that all of this has roots in the unhealthy family dynamics between them that got shattered when Blitz entered Stolas' life.

And well, it was Octavia's lack of knowledge about the situation that led to her coming to the conclusions she did, such as the conclusions she came to when she found the happy pills, for example.

Octavia's song also makes something else clear, that she used to think that him and Stella had a happy marriage until Blitz arrived in his life, and we know that the reason Octavia used to think that is because of Stolas hiding the abuse he suffered to give Octavia a 'normal life', which as I've stated before, this 'normal life' also included the unhealthy family dynamics between them, the same one where Stolas' entire life revolved around Octavia and the family, and vice versa for Octavia.

Which is the main reason why I believe that the unhealthy family dynamics is a part of the reason of why Octavia said and did what she did this episode, because Blitz actually started the transition into healthier family dynamics, with those being Stolas finally getting the courage to get the divorce, and Stolas having someone in his life outside of the family, no longer having Octavia and Stolas' family quite literally be all that there is to his life.

But here's the thing, because of Octavia's unintentionally lonely upbringing with the unhealthy family dynamics she doesn't know the full situation of, I don't think she recognizes that it is not healthy for the parent or the child for their entire world to be centered around their child plus the family, and vice versa. Plus for the same reasons and a bit more, I don't think she properly recognizes that Stolas can love and care for both Blitz and Octavia a lot at the same time.

As I have stated before, we point to multiple other reasons as to why Octavia behaved, said and believes in what she did, such as her feeling abandoned and replaced by Blitz, and I definitely agree with you all on that Stolas is nowhere near entirely innocent in this whole situation for multiple reasons, but at the same time, I still believe that at least part of this reason why has something to do with Octavia's upbringing, and the unhealthy family dynamics associated with said upbringing, which has roots in Stolas' extremely isolated and lonely upbringing.

Just to be clear, I am not blaming Octavia for anything here, and I am also not hating on Stolas for choosing to be happy with Blitz as well, while I have stated multiple times that Stolas did indeed fuck-up on multiple occasions, I am still not choosing a side here regarding the whole situation. I will not accept any Stolas or Octavia slander, as I have stated multiple times by now.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Talking with @respectthepetty about the finale, and I think I've figured out my biggest sticking point.

We see the incredible care and love that Kan shows his patients, and Tew's mom in particular. We see him ask her for confirmation multiple times. He brushes her hair, asks her if she has any worries, promises to take care of Tew for her.

He calls her Mom. She cradles his cheek. He sits with her while she falls asleep.

We see this scene play out, we feel Kan's compassion for her, we feel his need to help.

And when he and Tew have their confrontation, he says all of this. He talks about how much it hurts to see people struggle with unbearable pain, how the system doesn't care about how well or how poorly people are living, doesn't care about what people want for their life. He gives an impassioned defense of the need for euthanasia to be made legal.

He tells Tew that his mother died the way she wanted to, that she passed peacefully and on her terms. He tells him that she wanted him to be happy.

And we don't see Tew truly understand any of that. We don't get to see him even really process any of it.

I didn't need or expect Tew to become a supporter of euthanasia, or to even fully forgive and understand what Kan did and why he did it. But it seems like what we got instead was Tew accepting his feelings for Kan, and acknowledging that.

So that "I love you" felt... Misplaced.

What good does a confession do when you've got the man you're in love with handcuffed, on your way to turn him into the police.

(The confrontation itself was beautifully done and it hurt all my feelings. But I'm not sure it was in the right place? There was no room to see them struggling with and processing it. Kan's sad nod of acknowledgement and no response was the correct response, but it was also mine, quick I think is not the desired effect.)

Also, Kan volunteerimg to turn himself in, without arguing for his patients who need him -- in his hospital that is desperately short staffed, in which he is the only palliative care doctor; a point that has been made over and over in the series -- also felt off.

I would've been happier with an ambiguous ending, maybe even the exact same one, where we didn't see the cuffs, and weren't sure what was next for them.

(from my understanding, this is basically the opposite of the source material? There's also the comments from the screenwriter that have kind of left an annoyed filter over all my thoughts about the show, but I digress)

Honestly, I may have been okay(er) with the outcome if we had had more of their relationship development on screen, more of them trying to understand each other (that felt very one sided in the end).

Idk.

The show was beautiful, beautifully acted, and had some very important things to say, and it made its arguments well considering the lines they had to tow. But the politics and the moral struggle of the show were embodied in Kan and Tew, and the culmination of that struggle feels like it wasn't given enough space.

[petriwriting]

Resentment - Theodore Nott X reader

summary: Y/N gets jealous when Theodore has a really beautiful herbology project partner.

A/N: They/them pronouns. Implied female reader, but not important. Jealous!Theo & Reader. Cormac Mclaggen being a shit head. and slightly toxic and abusive. Gryffindor Vs Slytherin love triangle (sort of)

Her long curls fell down her back perfectly. Sweet perfume filled the room, something with notes of rose, bergamot and cedar. Manicured thin fingers held a quill and took notes. she smiled, and laughed as if she were in a movie. He was wealthy, athletic and came from a prestigious pureblooded family. She was everything. Slytherins It girl. she was popular and the type of girl who was always nice, even to the Gryffindors and non-purebloods. Her name was Astoria Greengrass. Even her name had a nice ring to it, sounding just as perfect as her appearance.

She was fortunate enough to be paired with Theodore for the herbology class you shared, Theodore had been your long-time crush since you were children, but as you both grew more mature and time passed, It was somewhat evident he may not feel the same, as you had hoped. The two of you maintained a very playful, and flirty in nature relationship, but both parties kept it to a minimum, scared of teetering over the edge that would dileniate friends from lovers. a line that you felt was often blurred with the boy. But now, Theodore seemingly had eyes for another.

The professor went on about poisonous plants and their uses in magic, potions and tinctures. You day dreamt about putting wolfsbane in Astoria's coffee, in a jealous rage. Maybe you had learned something in that class afterall. You were rightfully upset. She tossed her head back and laughed at Theodore's every joke, and smacked his arm playfully. They would make the perfect couple, though it was sad to admit. both were young and attractive slytherins. You thought you surely didn't stand a chance against her. It was good though that your own class partner was jotting down notes. It was a nerdy hufflepuff boy, who asked questions a lot and kept pushing his glasses back up on his face.

You seethed in anger as you watched what was unfolding, watching the two closely the entire class period. Once class was over, you scurried away quickly. You just wanted to scream into your pillow, it wasn't fair at all. You huffed, rushing back to your dorm, and of all people to run into...Thud.

"I am so sorry," It is Cormac Mclaggen. His blonde hair, and strong jawline, boyish figure, now all standing in front of you.

"It's alright," you utter softly. the boy helps you gather your books that had scattered across the floor, your hand brushed yours and you swear you saw him flush. 'Are you headed back to your dorm?"

The question caught you off guard. Was it that obvious you were going back there to cry, eat chocolate and be alone?

"Yes, actually." you said finally. "May I walk you?" he asks. You shook your head at first, it would have been a polite no but you could use the company, and It never hurt to be seen with someone for once.

"Very well then. Shall we?" He asks, holding your books for you. It was odd that someone like him would even consider speaking to someone like you, coming from vastly different cliqes with different friends. you walked forward while he matched your stride beside you. "So, Herbology, huh?" He asks to break the ice, seeing your herbology textbook at the top of the stack of textbooks.

"Yes, It's been rough." you admit. "Just remembering all the herbs and which ones are poison and which ones are healing." you continued.

"That class was a breeze for me." He says with confidence. He isn't usually the type you would attract, but he is handsome and willing to talk to you. "Oh really?" you quipped, somewhat oblivious to the obvious flirting, but playing along anyway.

"Yes," Cormac says with a smirk. "I could tutor you if you'd like?" He offers. You stop at the common room entrance, he passes your books over to you. "That would be really nice, actually." you said. "I'd appreciate that."

Cormac nods, shifting his focus to you. "Meet me in the library tomorrow afternoon then? We can go over some material." you smiled softly. "Its a date then." you said, quickly correcting yourself. "Well, not really a date, date. But you know what I mean." you reply.

"Its a date." he nods with a wink and a smirk and then wanders off. you enter common room and then past the students sitting there leisurely. You enter to sanctuary of the dorm, finally. Did you just schedule a date? I guess If your longtime crush decided it was time to move on, there was nothing stopping you from doing the same.

. . . . . .

The next day, the afternoon came quickly. You appeared in the library early, before lunchtime to study on things on your own. Little did you know you would run into a certain someone and his 'friend'. Of course, as soon as you heard Astoria's effortlessly attractive laugh, your heart sank into your stomach. The mood you were in faded, and you couldn't stop thinking about Theodore.

You wanted to prance over there and tell her off in front of Theo, but you knew causing a scene would just make you look like a fool and word would spread, followed by rumors. So you stayed in your seat, taking notes for the textbook you were looking through, copying the illustrations and writing down key-words.

The laughter was like a melody, filling the air and piercing through the silence of the library, it was heard above the quiet chatter, and when you looked back with a glare your eyes caught Theodore's. You stared for a moment, and then looked away. Astoria was suddenly quiet again. You decided to play the game right back at him.

Cormac Mclaggen approached your corner of the library, and you smiled, standing to greet him with a hug, the confused, but not complaining boy embraced you tightly and you giggled. "Thank you for doing this." you whispered.

Mclaggen was clueless to your antics, just wanting a date and to study.. or so you had thought. The flirting was amped up to the max, and absolutely no studying got done that afternoon. Cormacs hands reached lower... past your lower back.

(Theodore's POV in italic.)

When I locked eyes with them in the library I knew. I knew that I had ruined my chances. I turn to my classmate and family friend, Astoria. The other Slytherins would be deathly embarrassed for me if they knew I had asked the girl for help. Despite my reputation as a flirty 'bad boy' as some would say, I knew this relationship was different, It didn't feel like just a crush, and I wanted to get things right. So Astoria was helping me flirt. She was pretty, sure and could have any guy she wanted, which is what made her the perfect qualified expert to seek help from.

"Girls like when you sit close to them," Astoria had told me, tossing her long hair behind her ear. "You'll know if she likes you if she plays dumb at first, classic move. and," Astoria explains. "They'll laugh obnoxiously loud at everything you say. Like this." she erupts in a thunderous laugh, she's faking it, but I don't think anyone can really tell. I sigh.

"Alright," I say. "What about if they aren't... so direct?" I ask her, uncertain. The person I had eyes for didn't seem like the type to giggle at my every word just because I was giving them attention, it seemed superficial. "Well," she begins with her lips pursed. "Then you'll have to be yourself if the classics don't work." She says. I'm unconvinced, I'm not the best at talking beyond flirting. and they are important to me.

"It's just like I told you in Herbology," Astoria says. "Being yourself will work once you've flirted and played a little. Make them chase you." she says matter of fact. I snicker, I know her secret, and that her tactics don't work on the one boy here she has eyes on. "Is that what you're doing with Draco?" I ask her, she flushes red and fingers the ends of her hair, a nervous habit. I noticed she did it when she spoke to him, so maybe even the experts get nervous.

"noo!" she exclaimed. "I try and be nice to him," she explains. "He's been through a lot." she frowns. "Sure, Astoria." I say her name very promptly. "That doesn't matter, I'm trying to help you remember?" she says. "Oh I remember." she chuckles again. "You are unbelievable Nott. so, Who is the lucky girl?" she asks.

This is the part where I looked up to meet their eyes. We locked eyes for a moment, I was mesmerized. Enamored. But then I see that Mclaggen and his bloody arse is hugging them. My blood begins to boil, I want to lunge forward and hex him, but I stay in my seat quietly. "It doesn't matter." I say. "We need to leave." I Say promptly. "Oh, ok." Astoria frowns again, softly gathering her things and following me out of the library in a rush.

. . . . . .

In the following few weeks it was now an official school-wide rumor that Theodore Notts' new girlfriend was Astoria Greengrass. There were even rumors from the Gryffindors that you were Cormac's new arm candy. It upset you, greatly. So you had been playing along and letting Cormac take you on dates and to honeydukes. You'd been doing all the things couples do, without the label.

You figured it didn't matter considering Theo had a new girlfriend. You had wanted to tell him how you felt, and you were so close too, until all this happened. Almost everywhere you saw him in passing he was with her and the other Slytherins. You avoided them specifically to avoid the conflict.

You were walking yourself to class when Cormac popped up, you tried to hide your dismay, you wanted to roll your eyes and scoff but you faked it instead. Cormac was clingy, and could be very pushy at times. "Hi love." he said with a smirk. You hated when he called you that. "Hello." you said quietly. "Will you be at my quidditch game later today?" He asks. you stop in your tracks. "Tonight?" you confirm. "Yep. you know where," he winks. "I have my Jersey from last year for you to wear from the stands." He says, pulling out a Gryffindor Quidditch Jersey that hasn't been washed and smells like sweat and cologne. You stared at the filthy cloth.

"Well, I have plans tonight." you said. it wasn't a lie, you did forget about his stupid game. Cormac looked at you like a lost, orphaned puppy you had just kicked. you sighed, not wanting conflict to arise. "I guess I can make it work." you said finally, grabbing the nasty shirt and holding it out. "right on!" Cormac cheers for himself. "I'll see you this evening." He says, kissing the side of your head and then rushing off into the halls to be with his buddies.

You wanted to scream, as you walked back towards your dorm. You needed a nap to clear your head. Cormac could be a great boyfriend, for someone who liked half-beaten flowers that were bearly alive, cheap jewelry, Honeydukes chocolates (Not even the kind you liked..) and for someone who liked to be smothered. You had to put an end to it before it got worse, and before he started to catch actual feelings, but you liked the attention and felt less empty, so you stayed around.

As you made it to your dorm you laid down in defeat, tossing the dirty jersey onto the floor. No way you were wearing that this evening. You'd wear a warm coat and your house scarf like you had planned.

. . . . . .

When the evening came around, you gathered around and got ready with your dorm mates, helping each other pick outfits and making sure your hair was perfect, It was a cute moment. Something heartwarming and refreshing before you would inevitably have to stand in the cold stands during a quidditch game, the one you didn't even want to attend. you hadn't even been thinking about how Theo would be there as well, until you remembered out of nowhere. It made you even more upset. But eventually you'd have to stop avoiding him and just be happy for the boy.

You just wanted a good fun evening, without unrequited love on your mind. You pushed Theodore to the back of your mind, for now. You tried to be present in the moment, just enjoy the time you had with your friends, no drama, no bullshit.

as you approached the quidditch stands, students were slowly filling the stands, Slytherin against Gryffindor. Both very... Passionate houses. you were hoping you'd blend in, without the obnoxious jersey you didn't bother wearing. Students chattered, the roar slowly growing louder until the start of the game. The cold air was nipping at you, piercing your exposed skin. You shivered slightly, hoping it wouldn't snow that evening. You chatted with your friends, who accompanied you.

Once the game began, everyone lined up in position. It started off slow, with Gryffindor in the lead, nearing to a tie. You watched as player flew past you on their broomsticks, an entertaining affair. Your eyes tried to ignore Theodore, but he looked so handsome in his Slytherin quidditch robes.. you couldn't help but feel warmth on your cheeks. You were pulled out of your dreamy state when Cormac waved for you, blew you a kiss and made a heart with his hands. you sank back into your seat on the stands, it was embarrassing. Your friends teased you about it making kissy noises. You hoped the Golden Snitch would be captured already to save you the torment.

Slytherin and Gryffindor were now tied, it was a race now. Both houses were incredible competitors, especially for each other. You secretly hoped Gryffindor would lose so you wouldn't have to celebrate with Cormac later, you felt bad for not liking him, and for stringing him along. You are lost in your own thoughts, despite the large crowd, the chatter and cheering.

You should have thought that sooner, Because that's exactly what happened. Gryffindor lost, by a very close call. Slytherins in the crowd cheered loudly, a roar of applause and laughter. A relief for you. You watched from the stands as everyone cheered for Theodore and his team, Cormac looked pissed off, in some side huddle with the rest of his team just under the stands out of view. You hurried down from the stands to the field, your hands were like ice cubes despite the fingerless gloves. You were surprised not to see Astoria lingering near...

"Hey!" Theodore calls for you. "Congrats on winning tonight, Nott." You said playfully, breaking the ice finally. while upset, you still cared for him. His eyes still made you feel warm and his scent was enough to make you weak in the knees. "Owe it all to the team." He says, running his fingers through his hair. "Non-sense, you did great out there. Best playing I've seen in a long time." You quipped, a sharp exhale escaping your chest as you saw Cormac wander over. Total eye roll.

He threw his arm around you, as if you were his property. You pushed his arm away and gave you a sharp look. "That your boy?" Theodore asked harshly, biting his lip in restraint. "What?" you questioned, realizing what he had meant. "No, no." you said quickly.

Cormac's cocky expression dropped to a cold one. "Excuse me?" he asked you dramatically. "Don't be ridiculous. Let's get out of here." he said. When you shook your head, clearly uncomfortable, Cormac grabbed the center of your upper harm, with a stern tight grasp. You gasped gently, the squeeze was painful as you struggled against him.

"Let me go!" you snapped at him, That is when Theodore stepped in and grabbed his wrist as he tried to reach for you again after you had struggled out of his grasp. "They said to let them go." he seethed through his teeth.

Cormac scoffed loudly. "Is he the reason why you refused to wear MY Jersey?" He looked at you, standing behind Theodore. He had said questionable things to you, but you were scared now that he had gotten physical with you. "Stay away from me," you snapped at him. "I should have never spoken to you."

Cormac laughs, had he had his wand with him he would have tried to hex the both of you. Unfortunately, he didn't have it. He hesitated for a moment and then swung on Theodore, luckily, like a cat his movement was swift and he was able to dodge. This only made Cormac angrier. "You son of a-" Cormac had tried to lunge forward, but your emotions and frustration got the better of you now, and you had stepped forward and kneed him hard in the crotch. The boy cowered in pain immediately, and you stood there for a moment, some of the slytherins cheered for you, some stared in shock, others were amused. your face went red, and then the tears threatened to spill over so you ran off.

In the evening cold, the snow had began to fall as the sun set over the school. You had ran through the corridors to find someplace private, landing on an empty corridor on the far end of school grounds. Immediately, the tears began to fall. You felt so stupid you had let Cormac Mclaggen of all boys embarrass you like that. and in front of the only boy you've ever wanted? That was just social suicide. You were crying not just because of that but because of how scary the situation was, now you'd be targeted by Cormac and his group. You wanted nothing to do with him from the start, you just wanted to make Theo jealous and to make yourself feel less alone.

You choked out another sob and you steadied your breathing.

. . .

I saw them there, after leaving my quidditch gear behind on the field. they looked so saddened and I couldn't bear the thought of that low life bloke ever hurting them. I wanted to hug them, tell them it was all going to be okay. They were sobbing, and my heart shattered. I knew I would find them here. I said their name tenderly, gently. They quickly brushed the tears away from their eyes and looked at me. "I'M sorry about all that." I say softly. "Is everything okay?" I ask.

They take a long breath and open up, finally. "Cormac hasn't been the greatest to me," They admit. I knew that much. "We aren't dating, by the way." they said. I sighed, and placed a hand over theirs in reassurance. Even with puffy eyes and restlessness they still looked breathtaking to me. "I was using him to make you jealous." They said. I swallowed in confusion.

"Why me?" I asked, I sounded like a desperate fool. I just wanted to make sure they were okay, no matter who they were with. "Because," They said. I sigh, not wanting to pry any further.

I finally speak up after a short silence. "You know... I really like you." I said finally. My heart is racing but it feels so good to say out loud. I anxiously anticipate their response. They look at me in confusion, which confuses me... "I thought you were seeing Astoria Greengrass." they asked me. I chuckle lightly at the thought, She's not my type, and very much into Draco. "No, no I am not." I say in disbelief. Its starting to make sense now, I supposed to an outsider my little secret deal with Astoria could be mistaken for a relationship. "She's only being friendly with me so she can get closer to Draco." I explain. "I had this deal with her... I would set her up with him if she would help me impress you." I say, it feels like spilling my guts. "I hope it worked." I add after a second.

"I had no Idea you felt that way about me." They say. "Being with you is all I've ever wanted since I met you." I admit sheepishly. "I just have never had any idea what to do with this feeling, It's strong and new for me." I continue. Oh, Merlin. Stop. Talking. though mentally scolding myself, and before saying anything stupid I take another step closer to them, inches from their face. They give me such a gentle and loving gaze it makes me feel warm and loved. I close the distance, embracing lips with them in a gentle embrace.

. . .

You were taken back by the kiss but embraced it, enjoying every second of the moment. Your hands felt up to the nape of his neck and into his hair, while his found their way to your lower back. You pulled back after a moment, embarrassed that you looked like a mess from the crying. "Then lets do it." you said finally.

"Let's be a really good couple." you said with a girlish giggle at the thought. "Absoluetly, anything," Theo says. You gaze into his eyes in another sweet moment. It was now somewhat official, your heart was fluttering and you felt butterflies congregate in your chest. An amazing feeling.

[lovely080222]

Arcane Season 2

Lately, I've seen a lot of content creators and people online reacting and talking about Arcane season 2 in a negative way, to the point where they say that the season was trash. And honestly it makes me mad. If the ending of the story, or the story itself wasn't your cup of tea, is okay. Media enjoyment and appreciation is subjective, however, we can all be objective when it comes to the actual content of said media...and that is what has me so disappointed on their takes, because their reviews (that I came across with) are flat out lacked on media literacy and did not entirely understand the source material they were reviewing.

Let's start with the character arcs...in my honest opinion. THEY WERE GOOD. ALL OF THEM. I feel like a lot of people are exaggerating when it came to the arcs (especially Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn's) saying that they were not developed enough like in the first season, but I disagree. Most of their arcs for season 2 were HEAVLY hinted and foreshadowed in season 1, mostly Jinx's and Cait's.

One of the arc that gets more hate is Vi's, and is because of the s3x scene of season 2 episode 8 and the finale of season 2 episode 9, and overall season 1. As well as her forgiveness towards Caitlyn and how she acted selfishly in that episode. However, they don't take into account 2 things: 1. Vi is heartbroken (for what it feels the 30th time in both seasons) because Jinx/Powder tears and rejects Vi's help and unconditional love (Vi's fatal flaw is not knowing when to drop the towel, and establishing boundaries for herself, believe me, I learned that THE HARD WAY ) .

2. Vi and Caitlyn might not have enough time to talk about their feelings as deeply as they would've liked (a literal WAR is coming) so, they did it in the most raw and truthful form of love language, touch and eyes. No words, they weren't needed either.

Don't blame her for doing what it felt right in the moment, also let's be real here. Jinx gave her consent, and decided to leave Vi (Vi doesn't know the context, we do), for her sibling's benefit and love for her, because it hurts to Jinx that Vi is not taking care of herself and not pursuing what she truly wants, which is Caitlyn.

Was it in the worst moment of Jinx deteriorating mind? Yes. Was it out of place?...Maybe. But, was it necessary for the plot? OBVIOUSLY.

The s3x scene holds and magnifies the arcs of the couple and their vulnerability (Vi taking the leap and show her feelings, and Caitlyn responding and being truthful of hers). There are videos that explain the importance and the weight that holds in the arcs of Caitlyn and Violet, way in depth and detailed. They all point out the symbols and meanings of their gestures, which are wonderful. And ties together their bond and their strengths. As a younger sibling, strangely enough, I connect with Vi more than Jinx. That is because of the parental and family expectations that they have on me. I had to take a role of being the caretaker since "I'm more mentally stable". So I understand why Vi is the way she is.

Therefore, I understand and relate to Vi wanting to be selfish for once, without feeling guilty about it later. Not having regrets.

I recently rewatched both seasons and I have to say, it all played out perfectly, including the finale. And it payed off to all the build up in season 1, because of the foreshadows and plot devices used in both seasons to tell the story. The plot points and story arcs were very good, especially since they all connected to the main theme, which is forgiveness. Where do you draw the line in where there is nothing left to forgive or how far are you willing to do so. The plots truly showcased what is Arcane (narratively and character) and how does storytelling (mostly subtext, non-verbal and visual ) actually work. The way the writers handled it was MAGNIFICENT and TRAGIC. Which serves right for the story they conveyed in the series.

I think, one of the reasons that this season was received poorly (compared to season 1) is due to the already constructed ending and story lines that we might have thought of. Which might have more things or less than the main series but it was something to cling on before the premiere of the last season. And because of it, they judge it extremely and harshly without actually taking into account what the story was actually about. Would it have benefited of more episodes? No. Would it have benefited of more runtime? in some things, yes but at the same time, i don't mind it and I believe that it is good. Would it have been better if there was another season to wrap up the story? Definitely not. That is due to the story being pretty much a solid story with a few strong undertones that have unfolded before its finale. I LOVE Arcane, and I would watch it again and again (both seasons). I think, it is one of the biggest series of all time and also the most compelling one in modern media). This final season brought me to tears and this hollow feeling in my chest yet satisfied by the way it ended the main journey of Runeterra, and opened to many more.

Also controversial opinion, but I like season 2 a lot more than season 1. And that is because, I love the development of it (the show of progression and how it embraces the themes showed on the series)

BTW, THE MUSIC SLAPS. BEST OST HANDS DOWN MIC DROP!!!!!!

(P.S. As an english literature major, I might have more insight on this but don't be afraid to disagree/agree in the comments)

I want to know how y'all felt and if you want to ask me something or debate this, you're free to do so. I hope I can create a save space for all types of convos about this show.

love,

~lovely References:

https://youtu.be/dRvgb_CB9Ss?si=rQGmpPAYL5XrDR1u https://youtu.be/LZ6szm2fmB4?si=k7l-OuE018PpctjM https://youtu.be/0nhTS9-P7eQ?si=MkMntcyQZTHPzgYZ https://youtu.be/l0-We7fyCaQ?si=aP-fhcWxSspphBT-https://youtu.be/sIJEQjMqiNA?si=xF8rt77LKAG0Kpp6 https://youtu.be/NtDGwZxQyio?si=ZTKq1E2VetcXkyis https://youtu.be/30zVFfziBuk?si=AQpE6cntutdQvBfz https://youtu.be/9Lro6HmaWiA?si=PxPq4U8s138nlHw4. https://youtu.be/W3cNewkYB8o?si=LsyGnzC3iaMpr7K1 https://youtu.be/nD9cNowdBQg?si=jxqwX1tmuunnZpHi

[toadletthefirst]

Slay the princess portraits life and death on meta level so beautifully

While playing as a forgetful god you truly relieve experiences of the mortals. You appear in unknown circumstances no matter your will with strangers who are in the exact same position. And you are trying to build something. And it gets taken away. All, no matter good or bad, ends.

There were many living creatures similar to the vessels you saw. There are probably many of them now, in slowly dying universes.

And then TLQ is a god once again. And it gives you a new godhood perspective.

The shifting mound is such neat embodiment of the cycle of life. Dynamic is truly beautiful. It's paint on the blank paper of mediocre days. But art demands sacrifices.

Do you agree to kill myriads of those pitiful again and again to make the art of life? Can you still perceive it as beautiful after living through just as much misery and fear as they did?

And it lines up with the game you had. Aren't you sad that the thorn never walked out of the destroyed cabin? Wasn't it sad to see the damsel being taken away? Isn't it a pity that adversary was forced to stop doing what she loved? That wrath and nightmare tried so hard to be free and never got to experience it? That we never got to apologize to the stranger? Is it that foolish to believe that even the most wrecked vessels could find their peace if they just had more time?

And the shifting mound shows how their departures have meaning. But it is so by her context.

Of course the shifting mound says they found their peace in her. Of course they are still continue to live through her, in a way. But will it work for our life too? Will we find any soft embrace after death? Will we be a part of a greater narrative, like the vessels are a part of the shifting mound? And even if so, does it really matter if it's beauty is seen only from a far?

Sometimes mortality really feels like standing all alone in the neverending abyss and screaming: "well all this beauty of eternity - and what about me? What about how I want to see my loved ones happy? What about the beauty of my life?"

Of course EAH and MOC show how scary the constant static is. But my mortal mind wants to believe there is still a way to live through it. To make it work somehow.

I don't know. I really don't know anymore. This game had me in pieces

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (A Geta love story)

Summary: Geta is still heavily injured and struggles to recover. Lucius takes care of him.

Please let me know if you want another part! Love writing these!

No warnings, only a little angsty and fluff!

The cold stone pressed into Lucius' bare knees, but he was barely aware of it as he stared at Geta's sleeping face. The line between Geta's brows had finally disappeared, and his features had relaxed slightly—a sign that the devil's breath and opium were doing their work. Geta's left hand remained in his, resting on the sheet. Lucius bent forward and lightly pressed his lips to the smooth skin of his wrist, where he could feel the pulse beating rapidly.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Your breakfast, dominus.” A woman with long black hair and gray eyes placed a plate of food on the bedside table.

“Thank you, Ditta,” Lucius said with a nod, barely glancing at it.

"You don’t look good, Lucius," the young woman said. She pulled a small table closer to him. "Eat."

Only when he smelled the food up close did he realize how hungry he actually was, and he began eating like a man starved. After finishing the bread, cheese, and fruit, he wiped his hands on a linen napkin and stood to feel Geta's forehead one more time.

Warm like stone in the sun.

He rubbed his neck. There was no point in willing Geta to health by staring at him in his sleep.

Instead, Lucius decided to visit the fighting grounds to spar with his usual partner. As he worked himself into a sweat under the warm spring sun, he made a mental note to assign Geta a fighting master to teach him how to defend himself.

Or perhaps he could train him personally.

After the training session, he mounted his horse and traveled to Ostia with his trusted adviser Marcus to convene an emergency council. Reports suggested that the Pythians were moving southward faster than expected, threatening Rome’s vital trade routes. Lucius knew this meant he would soon have to go into battle. It hurt to think of leaving Geta behind for at least a couple of weeks. But he sensed his men needed a leader—a replacement was not an option. He understood that well.

When Lucius returned to the infirmary, Geta was still asleep, or perhaps asleep again. Lucius left him and went to his own sleeping quarters, afraid of his own intensity when he was around him.

Needless to say, he slept terribly.

---

Three days passed. On the third day, Geta was awake and sitting up slightly.

“Hey,” Lucius said softly as he entered the infirmary. It was early afternoon, and the room was busier than usual. Ravi and Pius were accompanied by three other healers, tending to a new wave of injured soldiers.

Geta looked up as Lucius approached. He wasn’t smiling; he simply watched him, calculating.

“Something wrong?” Lucius asked.

Geta shook his head. “No.”

“Okay.” Lucius smiled and reached for his hand. He gently played with Geta’s fingers, stroking his thumb over the knuckles and down to his wrist. Geta’s gaze fixed on their hands, his expression tense. Then he looked up into Lucius’ eyes. Geta’s expression was unreadable, his regained strength used to close himself off again.

Lucius pulled his hand back slowly, his smile fading a bit. It was hard to be comforting when Geta was like this—distant and locked away in his mind. A clear pattern was emerging: moments of intimacy and vulnerability, followed by Geta shutting himself off. Lucius tried to suppress the disappointment bubbling up. He wasn’t a man of big, open emotions, but something about Geta made them pour out like a broken dam, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

“Can I get you anything?” Lucius asked.

Geta shook his head, and Lucius let out a soft groan.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong today?”

There was a long silence. Then, in a soft, almost timid voice, Geta said, “Your kindness makes me uncomfortable, Lucius.”

The words hit like a gut punch. Lucius inhaled sharply. “Why?”

“Because what you’re doing is out of obligation and guilt. Your sense of honor. And on top of that, your love for Rome. I’m still valuable in your little schemes.”

Lucius wished Geta would stop talking. His voice strained with every word, but he wasn’t finished, his eyes starting to burn with fire.

“You want me to join you at your political parties? Parade me around? Fine. I’m yours to dress up and pull around on a leash.” The bitterness in his voice was sharp enough to cut. “But don’t coat your actions in gold when they were red to begin with.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucius’ frustration boiled over. Was this really what Geta had been stewing on since regaining consciousness? It was painful and unfair, far from the truth. It made him feel helpless. “Parading you around political parties?” His voice rose. “You barely survived, Geta! The last thing on my mind is getting you anywhere but this fucking bed!”

“And those investments in my health and recovery aren’t for your or Rome’s benefit?” Geta rasped, voice barely a whisper.

Lucius shook his head hard. “No. Your place in my parliament hasn’t crossed my mind once since you were shot. All I thought—all I prayed for—was your bloody survival, you fool!”

Geta opened his mouth to retort, but Lucius quickly pressed his palm over it.

“No! No more talking for you this afternoon.”

Geta’s brows knitted in fury, but he was wise enough not to fight physically or try to wriggle free. Lucius dared him with his eyes, and Geta stared back. They stayed like that for over a minute, the unsaid words heavy in the air.

“I’m going to get you water, and you are going to drink it just like you did before. Understood?” Lucius ground out, still tense, his hand still over Geta’s mouth.

Geta’s fiery eyes stared back in defiance. He shook his head slightly, but Lucius ignored it and removed his hand to let him breathe. He poured a glass of water and held it out, deciding it was better for Geta to do it himself rather than risk getting it thrown in his face. Geta strained to grab the glass, which seemed to weigh a ton in his hand. He used both hands to bring it to his lips, which were dry as paper. Lucius looked at him, just as he had a few weeks back when Geta was depressed after losing his brother.

“A few more sips.”

Lucius waited, then took the glass back. “

Please get some rest, Geta. You need it,” he said, too hurt to look him in the eyes.

For the next six days, Lucius only visited at night when he was sure Geta would be asleep. He didn’t want to risk another argument, for both their sakes. He would sit at the bedside, listening to Geta’s breathing. Sometimes Geta would talk in his sleep. The longer Lucius listened, the stranger the ramblings became.

Geta talked a lot about his mother and his brother Caracalla. The words ranged from incoherent mutterings to distressing sentences: “No” repeated over and over, or pleas to his mother not to leave, or even not to hurt him. Lucius wondered about the kind of youth Geta had endured.

According to Pius, Geta had asked about Lucius on two occasions. “He also started having strange panic attacks,” Pius told him the previous evening. “The shadows on the stone near his bed, the screaming soldiers in pain—he’s reacting to them badly.”

This wasn't good news. Sleep was the best remedy for Geta's severe injuries, and having anything disrupt it was unacceptable in Lucius' eyes. He began pondering whether moving Geta to his private quarters might be a possibility. His rooms were quieter, and Lucius would be better able to protect him. The idea wasn’t a bad one, provided Geta agreed. And that was a slight chance, given Geta's fear of him getting too close. It might be too much and push him away even more. Pius, however, grew impatient quickly and thought it better to move Geta anywhere but the infirmary, as it was growing more and more crowded. And this, in turn, was resulting in more and more distress in Geta's psyche.

Two days later, Lucius proposed the idea to Geta.

“What do you think? Would it okay?” Lucius asked, standing at the foot of Geta’s bed.

Geta was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“Thank you.”

That night and the following nights, Geta slept around the corner of Lucius' room in the same quarter. There was no wall separating them, and Lucius was a firsthand witness to Geta's nightmares and bursts of panic. What had possessed him to think this would do any good for his own rest, he did not know.

One night, after enduring a week of lying awake listening to Geta's whimpering and rapid breathing, Lucius slid out of bed. Barefoot, he made his way through the dimly lit compartment, the cold of the stone biting into his footsoles.

Geta's eyes flew open immediately, his sleep so light he woke up by Lucius' presence alone.

“Shh, shh. It's me,” Lucius whispered.

“Oh. I thought...” Geta rubbed his eyes. 'Nevermind.'

“Let's go for a short walk,” Lucius said, deciding to try something different. “It's been three weeks since the attack. Pius did say a little movement would do you good.”

Geta's eyes flickered to the dark hall leading to the door.

“Please no.”

“Why?”

“I don't want to.” Geta's eyes were big and panicky. Lucius frowned.

“Did you have a bad dream again?” he asked, softening his voice.

Geta nodded. Lucius looked at him in silence, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He played with the fabric of the bedsheet.

“I'm sorry I was so hard on you in the infirmary a few days ago,” he said after a moment of silence.

“That's okay.” Geta rubbed his shoulder. “I... I understand it.”

“You do?”

A brief nod. “I was being unthankful.” He cleared his throat. “I am just afraid, Lucius.”

Lucius stared in front of him, letting his words sink in. Then he looked at Geta. “I want you to feel like you can trust me.”

Geta opened his mouth, then closed it again. He sighed. “I know. I...” He looked away. “I want to.”

“That's good.”

The silence stretched on. Then Geta added, “I fantasize about you holding me, sometimes,” he admitted, searching for Lucius' eyes briefly before looking away again.

“You do?”

Geta nodded, his eyes back on the ceiling. “When you disappeared for six days,” he took a deep breath, “I felt this emptiness.” His voice sounded strange. “This sense of abandonment.”

Geta had counted the days. Lucius shook his head, feeling his throat close up. “I was there at night.” He reached out to touch him, then pulled his hand back, thinking better of it.

“Oh. You were?” Geta lifted his neck slightly.

Lucius nodded. “I was.”

The corner of Geta's mouth lifted a little. “That's nice.” He dropped his head back into the pillow. His apricot hair fell in waves on the white linen, crowning his head. It had grown a little.

A calm silence fell. Lucius fingers were still fiddling with the bedsheet. Then he heard Geta's breath hitch.

“Lucius, can you hold me?” He asked. 

Lucius looked at him. Geta's eyes were closed as if he was afraid of the answer, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Lucius silently stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. He pulled up the sheet and crawled under it, close to the warmth of Geta's body, his infinite softness.

He carefully slid his left arm under Geta's ribcage, then pulled him toward his own torso until his slim body was aligned with the length of his. He wrapped the other arm around him and pulled him in close. Geta let out a soft moan of contentment.

Lucius' face was resting in the crook of Geta's neck, soaking up his scent. Sleep, mixed with honey and just him. It felt so right having him in his arms. Hearing the beating of his heart.

Not long after, Geta's breathing grew heavy, his body sagging into his embrace. Lucius lay awake for a while, thinking.

He would have to go to battle soon. He would have to give this up, just when he was starting to have it. He nuzzled his face behind Geta's ear, hoping the tear rolling down his cheekbone onto Geta's neck would go unnoticed.

Then he finally, finally fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Let me know what you think in the comments! Your wish is my command:)

Previous parts: part 1 part 2 part 3,

Part 4

Part 5

[animeangel21]

BACK SCRATCHES PART 2

Hanma Shuji got around once upon a time, then one day he went to the right convenient store and tgats when he met you. It wasn’t his usual spot to go to but he was in the area, had no cigarettes and needed them or he’d probably kill someone.

You were in there buying a few snacks, had a drink in hand too and he could also see that some scum bag was following you around the store. He watched him while waiting in line, the guy peeped through the isles and eventually when you were gonna check out he waiting till someone was behind you to get in line with some random drink from the fridge.

He turned to you looking down at you which caught your attention making you look at up to him.

He would never admit it but he fell in love for the first time in that moment you first made eye contact, he heard wedding bells, but he’d never admit it aloud.

“You have all in your hands, would you like to go infront of me?” He asked and his voice alone was attractive to you but so was him being so kind and looking like he could beat someone to death.

“It’s okay really, I’m just getting one thing.” He lowers his voice and looks ahead. “Also someone’s been following you around the store, just so you know.”

You tap his arm and nod your head. “ I know I saw him” he steps aside so you can get infront of him. “I know how to protect myself, purses aren’t just for show.” You said proudly. He found your words very attractive. Not just in a he wanted to sleep with you but he needed to be around you for a long time.

“Hm, a woman who knows how to defend herself, well I would’ve put a bullet in his head if you didn’t first. But, could I take you out on a date instead, promise IM not the creep.” You turned to face the tall man in his suit and looked back into his gorgeous eyes. “I don’t take you for a creep, you’re quite sweet, a gentleman for sure, and willing to kill someone for me? I’d like that.” You replied and just as you turned around that person finished checking out.

“Add a pack of those cigarettes to whatever she’s getting and put it on this card” he pointed at a pack over your head and placed his card on the counter.

“What are yo-” you started and he just looked at you and winked making you blush.

“My treat doll, besides we have a date no?” He said grabbing the bag after being checked out and grabbing your hand with his free hand.

And from that day forward you and Hanma went on dates, started dating and now happily engaged. Nobody knew, he never told Kisaki and he never expected it. Hanma just told him he was meeting up with someone every day and he assumed he was sleeping with different people but he wasn’t, it’s always been you and always will be.

Sometimes He had relatively bad days like today but even so he never physically or verbally took it out on you But, Hanma also never missed the opportunity to fuck it all out.

Your caring nature and empathy really shows when you know he’s having a bad day. You see it in his face, his text messages, hear it in his voice. He loves when you sit in his lap and play with his hair while he rants about his day, you massage his shoulder then the back of his neck, down to his collar bones and then back to his hair.

But once he feels your less of your palm and more of your fingertips he can feel how hot his body really is just after his day but now he’s getting horny. And once you start dragging your fingertips down his back while looking back up at him listening to him speak he darts his tongue out to lick his lips.

He swears he feels your fingertips twitched on his back But knows your thighs definitely did and he only knew because you’re sitting on him and his hands are right on top. “Tryna make me feel better by making me hard? Only gonna frustrate me more if you’re teasing me.” You giggled at his statement which made him raise an eyebrow at you but he couldn’t help but smile right back.

“I’d never do such things, just wanna make you feel better” you continued dragging your nails up and down his back softly and it was so soft but he wanted more, he wanted to feel you digging them into his back, he needs to feel anything besides the stress and anger from today.

As weird as it was he wanted to feel pain right now and he needed that slight adrenaline rush, just so he could take that all out on someone that just happened to be you.

“Let me help you help me, I know you can’t do it on your own, cant take it by yourself either” he began to kiss and suck on your neck his tongue dragging against the skin he bites too hard with a firm grip on your hips.

“Really? From what I recall I swallow your dick without a single complaint or gag” you said panting, gasping between words as your body grew entirely too sensitive from the ticking sensation on your neck in addition to his teeth pulling the skin.

It’s not like you could run or squirm away from his mouth or touch he had you in a tight grip and you wouldn’t get away that easy and you knew that already and what would follow.

“Yeah it’s the only way to keep your smart mouth shut.” He kissed you before you could open your mouth and gave your butt a hard squeeze and laying you flat on your back against the pillows the scent of his Cologne lingered in the air and against the pillow.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of the sweats you’re wearing (they’re actually his) And he’s met with a wet patch on the crotch of your panties. “you like when I get all rough with you hm? Keep those pretty lips shut and maybe you can cum” he ran 2 fingers against the wet spot, now it was starting to hurt how hard he was.

Soon enough he was between your legs spitting and sucking on your clit while fucking his spit and cum in and out of you with his fingers. He’s kept your legs pushed up one to your chest with the other hand holding it up, the other on his shoulder and he’s getting exactly what he wanted you pulling on his hair while digging your nails into his scalp.

“Ya legs are shaking baby” he smirked and dug his fingers in deeper making you squirm feeling overwhelmed and arching off the bed. He sucks harder than he was before using his tongue to circle around your clit.

He pulls his fingers out replacing it with his in your words ‘freakishly’ long tongue before taking it out to give you a long lick from the ass to your clit before swallowing what’s on his tongue and with another long suck you gripped his hair harder and arched into his mouth and he didn’t even need to breathe he could die happy right then and there, with you whining and moaning so nicely while cumming all over his face.

“Fuck baby, give it all to me” his sentence was muffled as he still had his face buried in your pussy.

“Shu, shuj- wanna make you feel good” you gasped and moaned trying to catch your breath which seemed impossible the way he’s latched to you.

He pulls away with the entire bottom of his face wet and lips swollen and red, face blushed, and his pupils were dilated, he knew he was in so deep.

He crawled up your body till he was face to face with you still keeping your legs in his grip just slowly sliding his hands upwards till he’s got both hands behind your knees and he presses them to your chest and sticks his tongue in your mouth making you Taste yourself on his saliva.

He pulls back dropping your legs to give them a break knowing they’re gonna be sore, maybe bruised a bit. He stripped off the pajama pants he had on which was all he had on then he grabs onto the end of the sweater you wore (also his) and tosses it somewhere across the spacious room.

He wraps your legs around his waist and he can feel your nails on his back already just from his leaky tip dragging through your soaked folds right now, his shaft between your lips and the head occasionally catching against your sensitive clit was overwhelming the feeling making you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Keep going sweet girl, so good fa’ me” he said between kisses on your neck and swelled hbitten lips.

He pushes himself in with no warning and from the start he can’t find it in him to be merciful. You gasp, moan, cuss all at once and you know how fucked up his back will look tomorrow. He was too big to push in so quickly and even with the prep he was so hard to take and the first reaction you had to the pain was to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Fuckin pussy has its own heartbeat or ya tryna push me out?” He joked giving your neck a hard bite

You clenched around him when he didnt do much but give you a hard thrust to finally make you scratch him down his back slightly. “Shu’ please, please fuck me” you moaned out of breath. You needed him now and he wanted you just as much but he couldn’t help but tease you a bit, rile you up like you did him, but he really wants to push that limit, how long he could hold back from pounding you into the mattress, he wants to build up his own adrenaline to make sure he lets it all out, just like you tell him.

“Just keep laying there all pretty for me baby, I’ll give everything to y-” he’s cut off when your legs wrap around him.

“Please Shu, wan’ it all, T-Too deep baby please move.” You begged and continued to stare down at you with a smile on his face that would be mistaken for loving but his mind was twisted.

“Oh it hurts? Prove it to me baby” he dipped his head into your neck whispering such a filthy sentence causing you to grind upwards to meet his hips, you know what he wants too you may be brain dead when he fucks you like this but you’re still cunning and smart enough to know he’s a sadist and a masochist.

From his shoulder blades to about mid back as far as you could reach you dug your nails into his skin and pushed your hips into his as far as you could “please SHU-” your voice gets louder when he bites into your neck with a growl cussing under his breath but those sounds only made you clench around him tightly.

“You like this shit, as much as you try n’ run from me” his grip tightens on the pillow next to your head you could hear his knuckles crack his other hand grabs onto the crown of your head pulling back with a slight giggle.

“So pretty, My. Pretty. Slut. My. Fucking. Wife.” With each word it was followed with a hard thrust. The heels of your feet dug deeper and you already knew his back would look fucked up tomorrow the way you tried to hold him close plus it sounded entirely too sexy hearing that from his mouth.

His hips picked up momentum and he continued to use the weight of his hips to fuck into you harder. It’d sound painful to anyone who heard that but it felt ridiculously good.

You could just whine and cry out moans into his ear mumbling some nonsense he doesn’t bother to try and understand. He feels like his back is slightly on fire but the adrenaline from that only makes him to want to keep going for hours, how could he not when your pussy had a vice on him and was tightening every time his tip smashed into that sweet spot in you.

“ you hear the way she’s talkin back, practically soaking the sheets cryin fa’ me” he pulls your head down to look where you’re connected at the hips, he groans at the sight of your glistening cunt leaking white milky cum onto the bedsheets, the base of his cock had a white ring slowly dripping down his balls.

He damn near gives you whiplash when he uses your hair to pull your lips to his and he kisses you so tenderly COMPLETELY contradicting the way he’s effortlessly fucking you stupid. That doesn’t last Real long he smirks into the kiss and sucks your tongue into his mouth taking over the kiss completely licking every little crevice of your mouth, a mix of both your spot covers your chin and leaks from the corners of your mouth your lungs start to burn from the lack of air that came with such an intense make out session with each thrust knocking the wind out your lungs.

Your nails dig into the back of his neck and drag down to his biceps while you attempt to pull away from his mouth. He catches your bottom lip in-between his teeth biting down firmly “ told ya, always running from me”

“C-can’t fucking breathe shu-” you used whatever brain cells you had left to roll your eyes at him.

“Oh?” He smiled down at you, he released your hair and swiped his thumb across your lips while his hand rested on the side of your face and slips his thumb in your mouth, immediately you sucked it in-between your swollen lips the feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb made his heart race. “You tighten up so fucking nice when you can’t breathe even more so when you’ve got something to suck on.” He smirks down at your face red with embarrassment.

He pulls his thumb away smearing your saliva over your lips and smirking down at you before picking up the pace. He thinks he could cum alone from the sound coming from between your legs, the look on your face and the pleas and cries of pleasure. He groans deeply from the chest with clenched teeth.

“Shh-Shu, wanna cum please,please” you’re hotter than you think when you beg. He never understood why or how you make begging so attractive, maybe it’s your eyes, your alluring voice or the fact that you’re begging for him.

“My wife can cum anytime she wants, I’ll make you cum all over me baby.” He slides his hand from your face, down your neck to give you a nice firm squeeze to feel how you tightened around his base as he slammed into you.

“So fucking pretty like this” he gave you another squeeze making you look him in the eyes making sure you’re almost nose to nose.

His other hand quickly took hold of the back of your knee pushing it to your chest while his hips never let up more and more pressure building up so quick it became slightly overwhelming your body acting out of reflex and attempting to arch away from his hips.

“You’re gonna cum? I feel her trying to hold on for dear life. Just fucking take it and Don’t. Run.” He punishes you with harder thrust to punctuate each word. His grip tightens on your leg, however he doesn’t even think about tightening the hand around your throat again letting it sit around your throat with a featherlight Touch.

He swears you whine about it and only smirks and slams his hips into you harder and you clench around him more. He slows down laughing at your desperate pleas for him to fuck you faster instead he pulls almost all the way out and focuses on a pretty decent looking love bite he’d put on your neck just moments prior. He softly licks on the bite and bites down before he slams his hips into yours burying himself in you fully.

You gasp and moan loudly at the same time, that pressure building up more and more, you knew he knew it and he could feel just how close you were to falling over that edge. He pulls back and slams into you and when you arch into his thrust and gasp like you just had the wind knocked out of you.

“Cum for me baby” he grinds his hips in deep with another thrust and gives your throat a firm squeeze watching your eyes roll back as you cum.

He picks the pace up as your cunt clenches around him while you’re still cumming he works towards his own orgasm. The overstimulation made you dig into his back and tears gather in your lash line.

He felt himself twitch seeing your reaction. “Fuck, you can take a little bit more baby, m’ almost there.” Your legs felt like jello, everything he said was falling on deaf ears. The overstimulation caused you to grip onto shujis back like it was the only thing that could keep you grounded right now.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill this pussy up” he groans and you could see him bite down on his lip holding back those noises you love a bit too much. You clenched around him just at the thought, hearing such vulgar noises from his mouth is a one way ticket to an orgasm. He lets out a soft moan, and pulls out slamming himself deep in you and cumming with a smirk in his face moaning right in your ear.

“F-Fuck Shuji too, too deep!” The feeling of his head pushing almost into your cervix.

“But your pussy loves it, make up your mind darling. You took it so fucking well already” he was panting between every few words little moans and groans slip out from the way you’re clenching on him.

After a few moments of heavy breathing and coming down from your earth shattering orgasms,he tries to pull out and you just pull him closer wrapping your legs around him and digging your nails into his back harder than before.

“Fuck, my backs already on fire ya wanna go again?” His tongue licks from your neck to your jaw then behind your ear biting down hard enough to make you gasp.

“Oh my god shuji I’m sensitive! Give me a few minutes, you’re gonna brea-” he kisses you and swallows up your cries when he pushes your knees to your chest

“One more time, cum for me.” He starts thrusting giggling like a psycho while moaning in your ear as your nails tore his back up further.

It was gonna be a long night.

——————————————————————————-

Waking up was easier this morning, he didn’t dread getting in the shower, or having to leave you, or kiss you good bye. Seeing you passed out in his arms with love bites and a few teeth marks and bruises covering your neck and chest.

He only added the ones on your chest while the sheets washed last night because you laughed at him the entire time for his reaction to hot water hitting his back in the shower. Of course you cleaned them for him and apologized for some of the deeper ones, kissing them better while sitting on his lower back massaging his shoulders.

So obviously he had a good day till he has to kill someone then several people and he’s in his office stripping his shirt off to change into a clean one before his next meeting.

A secret knock at his office door has him yelling ‘Come in!’ Without a second thought while pulling the shirt off his shoulders. “You are aware you have 5 mi-” kisakis voice falls as his gaze locks onto the crime scene on his right hands back.

“Who’d you fuck to look like that?” Kisaki points out sitting on his desk and Hanma is internally facepalming. How could he possibly forget that you had mind blowing sex less than 24 hours ago and then he thinks about it.

He doesn’t have shit to worry about and no way in hell he’s ever lose you.

“Well, bout time I told you I’m engaged. I was gonna wait longer but you’ve seen her damage already.” Hanma laughs to himself.

“Hmm, when’s the wedding? I never thought I’d be asking you that.” Kisaki snickers as his gaze goes up and down his back sets Of horizontal and diagonal scratches on his shoulder blades, mid back, down his arms and biceps. Blotches of Red and purple on the side and back of his neck and a bite mark on his shoulder.

“Don’t know yet, I told her she can have whatever she likes, whenever, and I’ll make it happen, you’re invited so don’t cry.” He teases Kisaki who rolls his eyes.

“Yeah no. I won’t cry but because you seem to have your ducks in a semi straight row I’ll make you a deal.” Kisaki could be doing one of two things either way he was intrigued.

“Hm, what’s that?” Hanma buttons his new shirt up.

“Bring her around sometime, just us three and let me hear her ideas for the wedding, I’ll pay for it whether it’s private, family only, or family and friends. You’ll have security, nobody in who’s not welcomed.” He simply said.

“That’s it? Nothing more or less? Since when do you care?” Hanma said shrugging his suit jacket on.

“Cause if you keep fucking her like that you’ll be a dad and I’ll be an uncle, besides anyone keeping you in line is probably a saint” he said already exhausted with this conversation.

“I’m not that bad. I was, but I’m not anymore” Hanma said opening the door to let Kisaki and himself out.

“We will see about that.”

“Ya know Kisaki, I’ll let you in on a secret, if this little plan of yours goes well maybe I’ll consider letting you join in on the fun.”

“ drop it or I’ll reconsider.”

“I can pay for my wedding, yes id rather use your Money but im being dead serious. She said it first, after I asked though.” He shrugged walking away from Kisaki hearing him sigh loudly and mumble cusses at him.

———————————————————————————

BONUS!

Takemichi and Hinas wedding.

“Who’s the babe in the purple dress?” Chifuyu could hear Ran Haitani ask his younger brother who raised an eyebrow and looked back before looking straight ahead.

“No idea, which idiot left such a woman by herself?”

“Matsuno, do you know who that is?” The older Haitani looked at him and baji takes a quick glance and looks at Kazutora who’s also just as lost.

“I will be so honest I have no idea..?” He racked his brain and come to think of it he’s been around so many gangs and gang members he definitely would’ve noticed you.

Takemichi happen to walk by and chifuyu quickly pulled him to the side “do you know who that is? I can’t remember her ever being around” he turns to see you and scratches his head, and he himself cannot seem to pinpoint where you came from.

As if clockwork though Hanma Shuji slides his arm around your waist and pulls you close and proudly strolls over to where all 6 confused men stood ( 5 cause Rindou was still sitting, drunk already.)

“Hanagaki, congratulations. Bout time i introduce you to my wife.” Hanma said and everyone’s brain seemed to short upon hearing those words out Hanma shujis mouth.

“Wife? When did you get married? When did you even date someone? HELLO??” Kazutora was so mindblown by this new piece of information, while Baji congratulated him and whisper yelled at everyone to be polite and introduce themselves. The Haitanis had no issue introducing themselves while also very subtly trying to check you out but not subtle enough for Hanma not to notice.

You shook hands with everyone, met Takemichis wife and watched everyone dance with Shuji just holding you close while you had your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for letting me meet your friends today. They’re quite funny.” He looks down at you smirking.

“ anything for you, besides its nice to show some people what they can’t have” he knows what he has they only dream about having.

“Hmm, let em keep dreaming but it’ll never happen.”

[raffe156]

Breakaway State Part 6

Pairing - Price X Female OC “Tank”

Summary - Finally, finally, finally

This one is a little dark towards the end, Not much of Price but this is the bridge chapter for what’s to come an I’m so thankful for all those who have waited patiently I love you all.

Warnings -17+ Angst. Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26), Violence, abuse, abuse of power, controlling behaviour, injury, implied torture, death.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank, Luke, Dredd, Mckinley, Crest and Falkirk.

“Thank fuck for that…” Mckinley’s laugh echoed through the van as it pulled away from the base. He turned in his seat, trying to catch your eye, but you only gave him a brief glance before turning to take one last look at the place you were leaving behind. You spotted Kyle just as the van rounded the corner—he would understand.

Once you were on the road, Mckinley couldn’t help himself.

“I hope you lot realize how good you have it,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

The van stayed quiet.

“Don’t any of you get any ideas about wearing a Halloween mask, either. I’ll shut that shit down before it starts… I’m looking at you, Dredd…” Mckinley chuckled, but the others remained silent. The lack of response was like a cold slap, and you could see it was starting to eat at him. No one found him funny, and it irritated him. Unfortunately for you, you were right in his line of sight. A nasty grin crept across his face.

“You going to sort things out with your fella before we head out?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, watching for your reaction.

“Nothing to sort out…” you muttered, knowing exactly who he meant—Luke. You kept your eyes glued to the window, hoping he’d drop it.

“Haha, yeah right. There’s plenty to sort out. From what I hear, he’s playing the field while you’re off fighting in it. But then again, you’re not entirely innocent, are you? Little sleepovers with Price, weekends away with him. Dirty dog.” Mckinley shook his head, clearly enjoying himself.

You could feel the tension in the van rise, and it wasn’t just McKinley—everyone was listening now. You felt Dredd shift behind you, ready to jump in.

“Weekends away?” Crest’s voice cut through the tension, his head raising slightly, his interest piqued.

McKinley smirked triumphantly, like a predator who’d just caught its prey. “Yep, escape-to-the-country style. Up at Price’s house in Hertfordshire—nice and secluded. Found out from his missus, you know, the Doc at the base? The Irish one?”

The words hit you like a punch. McKinley knew exactly which buttons to push, and now, the squad’s attention was fully on you. A few brows raised, and you could feel the heat of their stares.

Dredd, bless her, quickly came to your defense. “It wasn’t just them two! Kyle was there, too. Doesn’t sound like a romantic weekend to me, does it?” She let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the situation.

“They weren’t together..”

“What was that?” McKinley cupped his ear, feigning ignorance, his grin widening.

“They weren’t together… not that it matters.” The words came out sharper than you intended, your blood starting to boil.

Dredd’s hand squeezed your arm from behind, a silent plea to let it go, but it was too late. McKinley had already pushed you too far.

“Not what the Doc said, though,” he said with a mock sigh. “Ah well, only you and Price know what really went on. I wonder if that’s why you transferred?” He turned back around in his seat, content with himself.

The seed had been planted. To the rest of the team, you were now a suspected homewrecker—and worse, the home you’d wrecked was that of your former captain.

The squad exchanged a few fleeting glances, the tension palpable. No one spoke for the rest of the ride, and the silence in the van was deafening as the weight of McKinley’s words hung heavily in the air.

*********************

“I’m not looking forward to this…” You thudded your head back against the stained headboard, the frustration evident in the gesture.

“Just leave him on read,” Dredd muttered, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to yours, casually rolling a cigarette. “He already thinks you’re gone for a while.”

The motel room was a depressing sight, tucked away near the ship-out base, its stale air heavy with the smell of smoke and spilled beer. The two creaky single beds groaned under the smallest movements, their springs long past their prime. They had definitely seen better days, but at this point, it didn’t matter. As long as the door locked and kept Mckinley out, it might as well have been the Radisson.

“I can’t leave him on read,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t want him thinking he has to wait around for me… He has no obligation to me. I’ve told him that from day one. He deserves more than this. Hell, I might not even make it back—might get taken out, put out of my misery.” You threw your hands up in mock exasperation, but the thought wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded. For you, and for people like you, that card was always ready to be pulled. It hovered, high in the deck, just waiting for the right moment.

“More like put down by Mckinley,” Dredd said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She wasn’t wrong.

Before you could even let that sink in, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was Luke. Your stomach dropped, a strange weight settling in your chest. Why did this feel like a breakup? Could it even be classified as that? You’d never made things official. Hell, he didn’t even know what you did for a living. As far as he knew, you were just working abroad, setting up a logistics depot. Was it a breakup? Or just… a break? You hadn’t even thought about what to say, hadn’t planned for this moment.

“You gonna answer that, or you actually going to take my advice for once?” Dredd’s voice cut through the silence as she leaned out the window, struggling to light her cigarette.

Before you could even process, she was already at your side, grabbing the phone and answering it for you. With a flick of her wrist, she put it on speaker, then casually leaned back out the window, puffing smoke as if nothing was amiss.

The phone crackled to life.

“Hey, city girl.”

You took a breath, your heart suddenly heavy. “Hey… you okay?”

Dredd was still trying to push herself further out the window. You glanced at her, then back at the phone. For a split second, you thought about joining her.

****************************

Price sat at his desk, shuffling through papers that required his attention, but his mind wasn’t on the job. He lacked the patience, the energy—anything really—to deal with the endless stack. But more than anything, he couldn’t shake the thought that you were gone. Not just off base, but probably out of the country. That fact was hard to swallow. Yet, as the door to his office creaked open, there was a fleeting moment of hope—hope that you’d walk through it, storming in with that familiar, thunderous look on your face, ready to give him an earful. You’d tell him what a twat he was, how you wanted to come back, to come home. But no… standing in the doorway, where you should be, was Kyle, holding a mug with a large carp on the front and the words “Master-Baiter” emblazoned across it.

It was another secret Santa gift from you to Soap. The memory made Price chuckle despite himself, recalling the pride on your face as Soap unwrapped it, immediately accusing Ghost of being the culprit and starting one of his usual ruckus-filled tirades. The theme for the gift exchange had been “shit mugs.” Soap had Ghost, who received a blank mug that only revealed its true message—C*NT—when it was heated, drawing laughs every time someone used it. Kyle had drawn Price’s name, gifting him a mug that read “World’s Best Dad.” Price had smiled when he opened it, raising an eyebrow and saying, “Thanks, SON.” Kyle had sworn blind that he’d ordered “World’s Best Boss” instead, but either way, it was perfect. Ghost had given Kyle the “Shit in Bed” mug, and Price had watched with a wry smile as you unwrapped yours, reading the words “Accident Prone” across the front.

“Very funny!” You had swatted his arm, and he’d laughed.

“Glad you like it,” he had said, his grin widening.

“Very fitting, lass,” Soap had added, raising his mug in a mock toast. The rest of you had joined in, clinking mugs and sharing a moment of camaraderie.

The memory faded, and Price snapped back to the present. Kyle was now sitting in the chair across from him, carefully placing the “Master-Baiter” mug on his desk, his face a mix of concern and hope.

“You heard anything?” Kyle asked, voice tight.

“Not a thing, lad. All hush-hush on this one,” Price replied, leaning back in his chair and taking a slow sip from the mug. “Not even Laswell’s got a whiff of anything. It’s one of those ‘need to know’ deals, and right now, we don’t need to know, I guess.”

Kyle’s face darkened, and he started picking at his nail—a nervous habit that only appeared when he was truly wound up.

“Fuck’s sake… don’t ask me why, but I’ve just got a bad feeling about the whole thing.”

“Same, lad… same.” Price’s voice was grim, his eyes distant as he looked out the window. The weight of the situation hung heavy between them.

*******************************************

You couldn’t even remember how long you’d been sitting in the freezing cold truck. All that mattered was staying close to Crest—he was like a human furnace, a welcome warmth in the biting chill. You shifted closer to him in the front seat as the truck rumbled through the quiet streets of Tiraspol. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the road, and you knew you weren’t far from the safe house.

Crest was a soft-spoken Yorkshireman, a man you knew only in passing. He had served briefly with your first captain, Falkirk, and often spoke of him with a fondness that made it clear the two shared a bond. Over time, you’d found common ground in stories of Falkirk and tales of the infamous 141. Crest, with his quiet admiration, had something of a man crush on Price—something you couldn’t ignore. It showed in the way he’d let his beard grow out, shaving only the center to mimic Price’s signature look. And when he spoke, most of his questions were about Price, with a few curious ones about Ghost thrown in for good measure.

“Does he sleep in the mask?” Crest asked, voice thick with curiosity—he was voicing the question that had been on everyone’s mind.

“He does, yeah.” You smirked, recalling the moment vividly. “Shit me up one night. I’d just come off watch, crashed out on one of the mattresses, and rolled over to find bam—his bloody skull mask, just staring at me. What made it worse was that his eyes were closed, so all I could see were these pitch-black holes in the dark. I nearly had a heart attack, rolled right off the bed, and landed on Soap. He starts shouting, waking up the whole room. Price comes running, thinking we’ve been made, and Ghost just sits up, all casual, asking why I’m on the ground next to Soap.”

The memory made you smile.

“Sounds like a right laugh,” Crest muttered, raising an eyebrow. “But, uh… how does he eat or shower with that thing on? Does he shower with it?”

He furrowed his brow, clearly trying to picture how Ghost managed to drink a cup of tea with that mask on. It wasn’t a pleasant image.

“Jesus, Crest, how would she know if he showers with the damn thing on?” Dredd chimed in from the backseat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Plus, if she’d seen him in the shower, don’t you think I’d be the first to know something so important?”

Dredd’s laugh rang out, her gun was hidden under a blanket, but the tension in the air had lightened—at least for now.

Crest, however, had turned a deep shade of red as the weight of his question settled. He stammered, suddenly aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

“Sorry Tank, I…”

Crest didn’t finish his sentence—he couldn’t. You turned toward him, but it was already too late. The bullet struck without warning, its sharp hiss inaudible in the chaos. You just heard the sickening sound of him choking on his own blood as his body slumped forward, sending the truck veering off the road and crashing into a ditch.

Everything seemed to stretch into slow motion as the truck rolled. You felt a dull pain spreading through your head and wrist, but the rest of your body felt strangely numb, as if it no longer belonged to you. You tried to prepare yourself for what was coming next—find your gun, defend yourself—but your hand wouldn’t respond. The pain in your skull splintered like shards of glass, each jagged piece tearing through your senses.

The last thing you felt before everything went dark was the gradual fading of Crest’s warmth, slipping away from your side.

**********************************

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

The voice was unmistakable… Soap? You tried to sit up, but a steady yet gentle hand held you back.

“Easy there, kid. Take it slow. You’ve got quite the bump on your head,” Price said with a reassuring smile, helping you sit up.

“Where am I?” you asked, glancing at Price.

“Told you she was accident-prone,” Soap chuckled, giving Kyle a playful smack on the back.

“How did you all get here?” you asked, turning to Soap.

“Guess that means he’s terrible in bed, then?” Price shot a teasing glance at Kyle.

“Yeah, and he’s a C*NT” Soap laughed, his voice echoing through the room as he clearly found himself hilarious.

Your eyes shifted to the corner, where Ghost stood motionless, his presence looming. He hadn’t said a word, just observing in his usual quiet, unreadable way.

“Where’s Crest? Is he ok? I didn’t even see the shooter?” Your eyes pleading with Ghost to give you answers. How were they all here?

“Well we all know your mug is a perfect fit eh fairy liquid!” Kyle laughed.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on please?” You glanced from Price to Ghost, your voice cracking, a lump in your throat forming.

Price cupped your face, his touch firm yet oddly soothing. Though his touch wasn’t necessary, it was comforting, and your reaction made that clear. You almost melted into his palm, the warmth of him seeping deep into your bones, filling you with a sense of safety.

You glanced up at his wide smile, and just as you were about to return a weak one, his hand slipped away from your face.

“You need to wake up, kid…”

“What? … I am… I’m…”

The words felt heavy on your tongue, but something in the way he spoke made the air shift—unnervingly cold, like a warning you couldn’t quite place.

The icy cold water struck you like a violent slap, ripping the breath from your lungs as you jolted upright, gasping in shock. But before you could even steady yourself, you were dragged down by a force and the deafening clank of chains.

Collapsing to the ground, your eyes shot forward, locking onto the heavy iron door looming in front of you. Just beside it, a dark figure stood, holding a bucket with a sinister stillness.

The room was cold, the air thick with the stench of damp concrete and stale air. You turned slowly, the harsh scrape of your shackles echoing in the silence. Looking down, you saw the heavy chains binding your wrists, the cold metal biting into your skin. They were bolted to the concrete floor.

Your mind raced, adrenaline surging as the questions piled up. How had you missed the shooter? You’d let your guard down, gotten comfortable—no, lazy. That was the mistake. Crest… where was he? Had he made it out? Was he alive? Dredd—had she escaped? Had she managed to slip away, lay low until things cleared up? Maybe she’d gotten back to the safe house, or even to the backup house. But the uncertainty gnawed at you, each thought more unsettling than the last.

Did McKinley know? The thought hit you like a jolt of cold electricity. This mission had been clear from the start—if caught, you are not acknowledged. There were no backup plans, no rescue team, no second chances. You were disposable.

You were on your own.

The realization settled in like a heavy stone in your chest, and for a moment, everything felt impossibly still. No one would come for you, no one would speak your name. If you didn’t get out of this yourself, there would be no one to blame but you.

Before you could ponder your fate any further, a second figure appeared in the doorway. The sound of footsteps echoed through the cold, empty space, each step deliberate, measured. A tall, thin man made his way toward you, his movements almost unsettlingly calm.

In the dim light, you could just make out his features: dark eyes, sharp and unblinking, and hair as black as coal, stark against his pale skin. He was impeccably dressed in a suit—clean, pressed, and entirely out of place in the grim surroundings. His presence made your pulse quicken, your instincts screaming that he was not someone you wanted to meet.

And then, the realization hit like a gut punch. Staring at you with cold, calculating eyes was one of the world’s most wanted criminals—the very reason you were here in this godforsaken town. Vladimir Makarov.

The name alone was enough to freeze your blood. His reputation preceded him—ruthless, cunning, and without mercy. Every mission, every brief, every intelligence report had warned you of him. But no amount of preparation could have ever truly prepared you for the man standing in front of you now.

“Good morning, Tank. How very nice it is to finally meet you…” Makarov’s voice was cold, each word laced with a mocking sweetness that made your skin crawl. “…I’m sorry about your friend.”

His words cut through the silence like a knife, but you couldn’t help the sick, twisted laugh that bubbled up in your throat. It was probably hysteria setting in, a coping mechanism for the absurdity of the situation. All those years spent hearing about Makarov—the Russian scumbag that Price had been gunning for relentlessly—and now, here he was. Standing right in front of you, casually offering some sick version of politeness.

Good morning, like he wasn’t the very reason you’d been dragged into this nightmare. Like you weren’t sitting here, shackled and broken, Crest dead, Dread MIA, all because of him.

You almost wanted to laugh again. Almost. But it died in your throat, the weight of reality sinking in. This wasn’t some briefing room or war room banter—it was real. And Makarov, for all his cold composure, was here because he wanted something. That much was certain. His eyes never left yours, calculating, waiting for a reaction, a weakness. The mockery in his voice was a mask, but beneath it, you could feel the tension—the thinly veiled threat of what was to come.

You had no doubt he was enjoying this moment, savoring the control he now held. But what was it that he wanted? Information? Revenge? Or something more personal, something that would break you in ways no one could predict?

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as he took a slow step forward. You could almost feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you, and despite everything—despite the pain, the fear—you refused to let him see how much it rattled you.

Not yet. Not until you knew what game he was playing.

The figure in the doorway bent down, reaching for something on the floor. It was square, bulky, and heavy. With a cold, deliberate motion, the man placed it down next to Makarov. A car battery. The heavy thud of it hitting the ground felt like a warning, its significance sinking in with a quiet dread.

“Let’s see how strong Price makes his toy soldiers, eh?”

[saphiccarma]

Hailo! Can I get a Agatha x Reader where Reader makes lunch for Agatha in the cutest wat possible (maybe little notes, heart shaped sandwiches and more)? Agatha feeling loved so she proceeds to fuck Reader after work

- Love Notes

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary - Agatha had a bad habit of forgetting to pack lunches and so you took it into your hands to fix that. Agatha decides to show you how much she appreciates it.

Warnings: counter sex, strap on (r receiving), lil' bit of nipple play (r receiving)

A/N: this prompt was such a cute mix of sweet and then smut and i love it. it's a bit short, but i'm actually pretty happy with it

Detective Harkness had been your girlfriend for a short amount of time, and you loved every second of it. Ranging from all aspects of her. Her harsh words that had an underlying, and hard to detect, but caring tone. The way her lips would softly nibble on every inch of your skin, her lips worshiping you several times a week. It was perfect.

You had just moved in with her, your stuff was already mostly strewn around her house by that point, but moving the rest of your belongings made it official. Since you first moved in, you learned that she had a tendency to forget to bring lunch to work with her. You made it your personal mission to fix that.

It started simple, just throwing together whatever leftovers were in the fridge, but it didn't take long for you to put more care into it. Little sandwiches that you cut into heart shapes. You made sure to prepare them late at night so that it would be a surprise in the morning. You also tucked notes into her bag. Sometimes they were long, filled with tender words and ended with a sweet heart, but other times they were just short messages that had a smiley face. It all depended on how tired you were the night before.

You couldn't quite tell if she liked it, but that didn't stop you from continuing with your gesture of love. A couple of times you made the notes dirty, words that got you into trouble the instant Agatha got home. If you were in the right mood, then you would make her a homecooked meal the night before or buy her chocolates from the store on your way home. And even if she didn't openly show it, you could tell that Agatha secretly adored it.

Humming softly, you swayed your hips as you layered different toppings onto the sandwich bread. It was toasted so that the edges were a perfect golden brown and butter was smeared all over it. A chicken breast sizzled on the stove next to you while you chopped up lettuce before putting it onto the bread. It was followed up by fresh avocado, sliced into perfect lines. While you waited for the protein to finish cooking, you grabbed a toothpick out of one of the drawers. A pink piece of paper already sat next to you, cut into a tiny heart, and you glued it to the toothpick.

Faintly, you registered the front door closing, but you were too focused on the song stuck in your head. That was until familiar arms wrapped around your waist. A surprised gasp left you as you turned around, a light smile on your face.

"Hey," you greeted, pleasantly surprised to see Agatha home already. She wasn't supposed to be here for another few hours. Yet her arms were wrapped around you, and you could smell her warm amber smell that drifted around. Her hair, out of its usual ponytail, tickled your neck as she pressed her lips onto yours. She tasted of day-old coffee and the chocolates you threw in her lunch box last minute. Her tongue swiped against your lower lip and you instantly melted into her.

“I missed you,” her words were low, her voice husky, “Do you know how sweet you are?”

As she pushed herself closer you felt something hard press against you. A small gasp left you when Agatha jutted her hips slightly, her strap prodding at you. Had she been wearing it all day? She smirked against your lips, spinning you around and shoving you against the counter, her hands on your hips and lips never leaving yours.

Your hands fumbled to find the stove crank as you realized the mood she was in, even though she hadn't said a word, and you turned it until you heard the fire go out. The chicken sizzled lightly but you hardly cared.

"Hi," she murmured, pulling back, "You're so sweet, y'know that?" Her hands trailed up to cup your breasts and you let out a stuttered moan. You were wearing only a tank top, one worn thin because of the years you've had it, and she could easily feel how your nipples already pebbled beneath her touch. She kissed you fervently, the action filled with passion and love.

Her thumb swiped over your hard nipple just as her tongue did the same to your lower lip again, "You are an absolute delight, so beautiful, so perfect." Agatha moved her lips to press quick little pecks down your jaw and neck, sucking a couple times and scraping with her teeth. Your hands gripped the counter for purchase, struggling to stay upright with her intoxicating touch trailing all of over you. Pinching your nipple once more, drawing a small yelp out of you, Agatha spun you around quickly once more, your stomach being pressed into the cold marble material.

Agatha pushed you down so that your face was held down and right against the chilly surface. You could hear her pants unzipping and her strap popped out to poke at you. A little gasp left you. She bent down so that her front was pressed against your back.

"Let me show you how much I adore you." Her words were whispered against your neck, breath hot and lips biting down on your soft skin. You whimpered softly, your hips shifting as she tugged your pants and panties down. Even after just a few minutes, you were positively dripping, liquid slowly sliding down your thighs. The cold air blasted against your skin, and you shivered slightly but hardly had time to focus on that as her strap poked at your entrance.

There was hardly a moment before she snapped her hips and thrust into you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned into the counter. The strap hit your spot just right, the ridges and texture rubbing against your walls just right as Agatha pumped in and out at a brutal pace. Her hands kept you pinned to the counter even as you squirmed and whined. Not that you wanted it to stop. It was wonderful, her strap being driven in and out of you, but it wasn't enough. Not enough to cum anyway.

Just when you were about to beg for more, Agatha's hand left your hip and rounded to swipe through your folds, drawing another loud moan from you. Her fingers swiped across your clit and your hips bucked. She toyed with your clit for a moment before bending down and sucking the sensitive skin on your neck. Her teeth bit slightly, marking her claim on you, and her digits pushed harshly onto your clit.

With Agatha's strap being rammed in and out of you at a rapid pace, her fingers constantly tickling your clit and nails lightly scrapping, and her lips teasing the column of your neck. It was more than enough to make your orgasm build rapidly inside of you. Your stomach clenched and your knuckles turned white from how hard you were gripping the counter. Stuttered moans and broken whines left you as your orgasm came close.

"Aggie," you whined, although you hardly had to say anything for her to know you were close. Based on the ways your walls fluttered around her fake cock and your sounds became more high-pitched and desperate. "Please, please, please, please-"

"Go on," she cooed, her voice soft and filled with so much adoration, "Go ahead, sweet girl, let go."

That was all it took for you to cum. Your high felt like pure pleasure and everything in you tensed up, muscles locking up as you came around Agatha's strap, your moan echoing throughout the small apartment kitchen. And you expected her to stop, to pull out as your muscles started to relax, but she didn't. Agatha's fingers twirled your clit between the pads of her thumb and pointer finger and her pace didn't let up. You bordered on the edge of overstimulation, her touch quickly becoming too much way too fast.

You whimpered, hand grasping desperately at her wrist in attempt to get her to stop, "Aggie- too much. Too much." All she did was laugh and continued her movements.

"You can give me one more, right? My good girl?"

And you did. You gave her two more orgasms before she finally slowed. Your cunt and clit were throbbing, aching from how much she played with them, but that didn’t' stop the satisfaction that coursed through you pleasantly. When you thought she would never stop, your brain hazy and thoughts muddled, Agatha finally pulled out and her fingers left your clit. You whined softly at the empty feeling. Hushing you gently, Agatha spun you around and wrapped her arms around you tenderly. Her nose brushed against yours as she placed one, final, tender kiss to your lips.

"You're such sweet girl," she whispered, "Making me lunch everyday with little notes. That one you left this morning was particularly tempting."

Her fingers curled around under your chin as she raised a brow, unamused. Through the fog in your mind, you remembered the slightly dirty note you had written, tucking it into her bag. It wasn't even that bad, just some words you thought described your relationship perfectly. "The ncier you treat her outside the bedroom, the naughtier it will be inside the bedroom." You giggled faintly as you remembered it, your arms wrapping around her neck.

"I love you," you said softly.

There was only a slight pause before she responded, the words unfamiliar to her still, "I love you too."

[schlatt-love-bot]

Classroom Dad - Schlatt x Teacher!Reader Headcanon

I got the idea of Schlatt being a “classroom dad” in my head and couldn’t get it out omg, so enjoy my ramblings! For this, Teacher!Reader is at the elementary level :) 

When you met, Schlatt was both in awe of your profession and confused 

“So…listen, I get loving kids and loving learning and all that mushy gushy feel good shit…but you mean to tell me you only get paid that much for dealing with those little shits? …why do it?” 

After dating for a while, though, he began to love the crew of kids in your classroom just as much as you did, maybe even a little bit more 

“Tell me, did the kids give you any more gossip during indoor recess? Is Johnny really into Samantha??” 

He would get a kick out of the stories you’d be bringing home each and every day

On the flipside, though, he would know exactly when you walked through the door on a tough day, were behaviors were out of whack or a lesson didn’t go as planned 

“Awwwh, baby, come ‘ere, talk to me. I’m brewin’ you a cup of tea, and then you can tell me everything that went wrong today.” 

He had a blanket on standby for when the days got so tough you just came home and needed to cry it out 

After being together for so long, he had a strong understanding of just how emotionally taxing the job was, and how much came with it

Would HAPPILY play student for you when you needed to practice a lesson or activity you’ve never done with a class before 

“Babe this worked out perfectly! I forget that you have the IQ of a 4th grader sometimes…”

“Hey! Not nice! I could walk away right now and leave you to figure out why my animal cell and my plant cell look exactly the same!”

Heard you complain once about your district not providing you with a class set of materials you needed, and he IMMEDIATELY bought in on the spot

“Babe, why did a case full of number 2 pencils just show up at our door…?”

“You said the kids needed them…” 

It’s gotten to the point where if he sees something he thinks you need in your classroom or something your students would like, he buys it and presents it to you 

“Schlatt! A guinea pig??” 

“What! I figured you could use a classroom pet!! I wanted to get a classroom cat, but figured those shitheads wouldn't be able to handle it....plus allergies, y'know?” 

Constant supplier of fun trinkets and toys for your classroom prize bin

“Schlatt, the kids are complaining about the ratio of squishies to stickers…” 

“On it, boss. More squishies will be at our door by the end of the week.” 

Your students BEGGED you to finally meet their infamous “classroom dad”

“Guys…Mr. Schlatt works a lot, I don’t know if I could get him to come by and visit…” 

You mentioned it in passing during dinner one night, and Schlatt’s eyes lit up 

“You mean to tell me…they want me there? To meet me? What can I do?” 

And suddenly you’re having a “secret reader” come in at the end of the day to read the next chapter of the book you’re reading as a class 

The kids were excited, thinking it was one of their parents, like they were used to from 1st and 2nd grade 

But when Schlatt walked through the door??

You were chopped liver, these kids were treating him like he was a damn king in the classroom! 

“Mr. Schlatt, how is it living with Miss (Y/N)?” 

“Well, how is she in here?” 

“She’s kind and cares about us, but she can be annoying with the amount of work she makes us do…”

“Yeah..that sounds about right, kiddo.” 

You were making a mental note to never do this, ever, again

Until you noticed just how engaged the kids were in listening to Schlatt read 

Schlatt was doing his best performance, making up voices and giving the kids a show

They were listening to every word coming from his mouth, hook, line, and sinker 

…until he left them on a cliffhanger

“WHATTT???”

“MISS (Y/N)!!!! HOW COULD YOU?!?” 

“MR. SCHLATT PLEASSEEEEE, KEEP GOING!!” 

He looked at you with his best puppy eyes 

“Yeah, Miss (Y/N), can we keep going?” 

You chuckled, shaking your head as the entire class plus your boyfriend were begging to continue reading the book

“Guys, I wish I could let Mr. Schlatt continue, but your buses are about to be loaded in 5 minutes, we need to get ourselves packed up and ready to go!” 

The kids, and Schlatt, let out a collective groan before shuffling to get their belongings together

Schlatt lingered, waiting until every last kid left, helping you with closing down your classroom for the day 

“Yknow, toots, that was actually a lot of fun.”

“Good! I’m glad you thought so…we could definitely use a secret reader again for when we start Frindle…”

“You know I’m your man, baby. All you need to do is ask.” 

You told Schlatt to leave without you, needing to do a couple more things before leaving for the day

Reluctant, he left without you, greeting you at the door with your favorite slippers, a glass of wine, and dinner already made 

“I get why you come home so exhausted, now, I was only with those kids for what, 30 minutes? I’m absolutely exhausted!” 

You let out a laugh, glad he understood your daily exhaustion on a personal level now 

“Seeing you with those kids, though…it’s got me thinking…” 

You raised your eyebrow, signalling him to continue

“What if…what if we start workin’ on our own little gremlin…” 

You nearly choked on your wine, cheeks beginning to get hot with blush 

“Think about it, doll, and then get back to-” 

“Yes. We should. In fact…we should get started right now..” 

Not much dinner was eaten that night, but both you and Schlatt certainly had your fill of dessert…

[anxiousalene]

The Ithaca Saga 👑🏹

*Warning mentions of SA and this is 2 parts*

Ok, let’s do this one last time. OK, SO THIS ENTIRE SAGA HAD ME IN TEARS LIKE THOSE LAST TWO SONGS WERE DEVASTATING. BUT TO GO IN PROPER ORDER, SO ANNA ABSOLUTLY COOKED AS PENELOPE AND IS ANYONE REALLY SURPRISED? WE GET TO SEE PENELOPE SING THE CHALLENGE AND ITS JUST AHHHH. I love how she sounds so determined in the beginning but after the storm she starts to sound slightly more resigned like she isn’t accepting the suitors but might slightly believe that Odysseus might not come back and she doesn’t know how much longer she can fight. ALSO JORGE WHEN I CATCH YOU JORGE FOR CONTINUOUSLY BRINGING BACK THE WAITING MOTIF AND IT HURTING ME EVERY TIME. AND HAVING THE SUITORS IN THE BACKGROUND LIKE THEYRE OUTSIDE HER DOOR. And then it’s hold them down, Antinous they could never make me like you. On a serious note, he’s honestly the scariest character in the show, because he’s so realistic. All the other monsters and gods are exaggerated to the point where they don’t feel realistic but I feel like almost everyone has met a man similar to Antinous who believes he’s entitled to power and women. Aaron Alexander does a great job of portraying darkness in his voice that Antinous would carry. I love the slight growls and cries in his voice when he sings. I know it’s just music but when Antinous talks about assaulting Penelope it makes me sick to my stomach as someone who has been SA’d. You almost have to appreciate how disgusting Jorge makes you feel with those lyrics. It makes the audience appreciate his death so much more. Back on a lighter note, Odysseus is probably one of my FAVORITE like fighting songs, like he is done playing games and just goes INSANE. I love how Jorge compares the palace to what they did to Troy. AND THE VOICES IN THE BACKGROUND SAYING HIS NAME BECAUSE HES THE MONSTER NOW AND LIKE IN THE PROPHECY, AS WELL AS TAKING THE TRICK FROM SCYLLA OF GOING FOR THE TORCHES. So the lyric "We are the same you and I" really makes sense. ALSO THE “We know these halls the odds can be tilted” and the response of “You don’t think I know my own palace? I built it.” GOES SO HARD, ITS UP THERE WITH “Next to my wife”. I love how one of the suitors is like hey you killed our leader like let us go?? You know open arms? Which is really dirty tactic considering Polities And Odysseus goes F*** THAT and slaughters him. AND THEN ITS ATHENA’S MOTIF WITH TELEMACHUS AND I SCREAMED BECAUSE I KNEW SHE WAS COMING BACK I KNEW IT. Mico and Jorge sound so similar it’s not even funny. I always think of the "We have seen what the king will do to those with their hands in the air" line and that Odysseus just really doesn’t like party people, or his idea of fun is slaughtering a bunch of predators and that I can respect. And when the suitors grab Telemachus in the weapons room, I love how it’s sped up so you can hear them being frantic, almost rabid. AND THE ELECTRIC GUITAR IS GOING CRAZY WHEN ODYSSEUS SAYS “Mercy?” LIKE HE GOING TO TEAR THEM LIMB FROM LIMB, and the lyrics “my mercy has drowned, it died to bring me home” LIKE IN THE VENGEANCE SAGA IN THE WATER WITH ALL THE CREW IS CRAZY. On a darker note again, I appreciate how Jorge straight up says what the suitors were planning to do to Penelope was rape and doesn’t dance around the topic anymore with the lyrics like people tend to do. Then, we hear all of the screams of the suitors as they are violently slaughtered as they should be. Then, it’s the first of the final two songs that made me SOB 😭 Like Mico and Jorge did this scene SO WELL. (go to the 2nd part)

[local-lamppost]

Sonic 3 Initial Thoughts

So I saw Sonic 3 and I really liked it. Adventure 2 has my favorite story of the franchise so even a loose adaptation was great to see (they even referenced Shadow the Hedgehog by having Shadow's origins be a black comet).

The only part I had a problem with was how they shied away from everything being GUN's fault. Gerald was hired to create the a weapon, a life form that could also cure his granddaughter's illness. Then the project gets out of hand and GUN wants to cover it up, so they kill everyone and imprison Gerald to keep him working for them (and they later kill him anyway in an amazing cutscene). GUN spends the whole game doing their best to keep the cover up going and doubling down. They are the real bad guys. This is still in the movie but it feels glossed over.

I loved Maria and Shadow's dynamic. We didn't get too much time with them, but the way it was shown-that Maria was the only one in the facility that didn't see Shadow as a monster/alien/things to be studied and Shadow being someone Maria could play with. I wish they had included a line about Maria wanting to experience the world beyond where her grandfather went for research, that she and Shadow planned to explore the world first hand when it was finished, and Maria's last words of protecting the world. Being the world's protector despite everything the world has done to him is Shadow's most important trait and I feel like it could've been touched on more.

The fight between Shadow and Sonic was amazing. Shadow goading Sonic into killing him, pointing at his heart the same way Maria and Tom have done to each one, and that connection being what snaps Sonic out of his anger was perfect. Then going on to watch the sun (a still living star) rise over the earth while they talk. Gorgeous.

Knuckles and Tails were relevant! This is always something I worry about in sequels that add to the cast, but they were handled perfectly. Knuckles being the guardians and having the final say of giving Sonic the power. Tails being the brains and moral support, as well as peacemaker between Sonic and Knuckles. It all evened out very well.

Lastly, Stone and the Robotniks. While I have mixed feelings of him being alive in the movie's present, Gerald is a fantastic villain. His line of "You're not Maria, Ivo" was brutal. I was wondering how they would work out a living Gerald with access to a living grandchild still wanting to destroy everything, but having him purely treat Ivo as a shell throughout was perfect. Ivo himself just wants to be cared for, something he thinks only family can provide for him despite Stone being right there. It's this familial requirement for affection that allows Gerald to use him and for Stone to be forced out, and if they do bring him back (which I really hope they don't) what his new dynamic with Stone would be now that he knows Stone really does love him.

All and all, a great film and I'm excited for the fourth. I'm really excited to see how Amy and Metal Sonic are handled, especially now that SEGA is writing her as an actual character lately.