#trauma of infidelity

[failtosucceedlife-blog]

HOW SAFE IS YOUR BOYFRIEND FROM CHEATING IN RELATIONSHIP?

[unreal]

My Name Is Kanaya Maryam

You Fucked My Wife

PREPARE TO DIE

[xlunart]

tfw the sunday is desolate or whatever

[intercomkris]

🚬i hate you so much sometimes i wish you'd die...

Marcato Scott-Tanaka. age: 27-early 30s ish gender: cis male nationality: american ethnicity: haitian, japanese occupation: drug dealer

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @highoctanegem, @realmackross TIMING: After midnight on April 25th SUMMARY: Jade confronts Mack after her shift at Dance Macabre. WARNINGS: head trauma tw, infidelity tw, unsanitary tw

Even at a distance, Jade could hear the slutty bass pumping inside Dance Macabre. She couldn’t recognize the track, (and Shazam didn’t have the keen ears she did) but still, Jade bopped her head from her position anyway, wishing for a second she was out having that kinda fun. It was like a fleeting thought though, cause she knew how priorities worked. How commitment worked. She knew it was more relevant than ever, after the last few Ls she took. Slaying undead always came before grinding against strangers in the club. 

Just like B.E.P said, tonight was gonna be a good night. Jade had been keeping an eye on her favorite archnemesis for about two weeks now. Learning her schedule, scouting the neighborhood. Their next (and final) meeting had to be iconic. Too much time had passed since their goo adventure (which had been wrapped up very loosely in a “To be continued” ribbon), so what better time to circle back than now? (Probably, when she wasn’t like nursing both a stab wound, and a bullet wound, but alas).

Despite the nature of this particular undead, Jade still carried her stakes (there were plenty of vampires tingling her senses in the vicinity after all). But as always, she carried the star of the night on her back. Nope, not the crossbow: A sword. It’d been Ruby’s at one point which was the only reason it had remained in such perfect conditions before it was given to her. And like, decapitation was so not her favorite way of dispatching undead, but she was excited to play with new toys. And the gun was a bust since her encounter with Monty so... Plus, she was gonna look so hot wielding it too.

And then Jade spotted her, the one and only, coming out of the personnel door. She let Mack walk, cause she wasn’t dumb (just a little impatient), she wouldn’t risk getting attacked by a horde of undead if they saw her harming one of their own. When she was isolated enough, Jade came out from where she was hiding, coming face to face with the woman who once stole her boyfriend. (She didn’t approve of going behind a woman’s back) (She was a girl’s girl after all). Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight as her gaze fixed on Mack’s. She was in such a good mood despite recent losses. “Oh wow, look what the cat dragged in…or well, out, technically. Looking good, babe,” she grinned, strutting closer. “You’re missing that goo shine though”.

—

For weeks Mackenzie had felt the odd sensation that eyes were on her. It had honestly been quite a while since she had felt like she was being watched. In Hollywood all eyes were on her 24/7. Camera lenses, fans, paparazzi, but this had felt different. This had reminded her of the one fan she had experienced that had gone too far. The one who she had come home to find lingering in her bedroom waiting for. But ever since coming to Wicked’s Rest, the eyes that followed her had slowly died out as she became just another resident of the small and extremely strange town.

But tonight, she felt it again. Felt it on her way to work and as she was leaving to go home for the night. It was someone lingering in the shadows, and while Mackenzie didn’t like the idea of being followed, at least, in the short amount of time she had been a zombie, she knew she could defend herself in more ways than one.

It wasn’t until she saw the person come out and open her mouth that the young zombie’s guard was finally let down. And with a huff of frustration, the blonde rolled her eyes, “Seriously? Are you the one that’s been following me the whole fucking time? I knew you were obsessed with me, but this is just getting ridiculous, Jade. Am I gonna have to get a restraining order for your dumbass?” Mackenzie shook her head in annoyance, “What do you want? An autograph? A picture? A lock of hair to put with your shrine? Come on, man. It’s been a long night, and I just want to go home…without you following me.”

—

Jade snorted, immediately revitalized by Mack’s reaction. It had been a while since she’d gotten the thrill of arguing with someone. What was up with that? Was that what maturing looked like? Why did it have to be so boring? “I don’t know about this whole time, that might be someone else. I’d say two weeks, maybe?“ She moved her hand back and forth, estimating. Mack’s further annoyance earned her a cackle. One Jade cut short, cause like… she didn’t want to draw too much attention after all. “Oh, babe…I’d go for someone more famous if I wanted to be a creepy stan, you’re totally safe.” Sorta. The sword she was carrying would beg to differ.

But just cause this was her favorite nemesis, and cause this deserved more flare than just getting down to it, Jade decided to answer some questions. “We have unfinished business,” she sighed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Mack’s expression didn’t agree. “And, nope…it’s not Brody. But like, that’s still a thing that happened and makes me a little mad,” she conceded, taking two steps forward. “I’m talking about that whole…chomping on people thing.” There. Now they both knew this was justified. “I knew that first time, when I delivered your food, why even bother pretending? Then little Ariadne confirmed it, but we were pretty busy with the goo at the time, weren’t we?” She tilted her head, wondering if she should be done. If that was enough. But that hadn’t worked with Monty, so maybe she should go back to her regular style. Yapping till they had enough. “I usually like taking the ones with the…” she pointed two fingers down, signaling fangs. “But why not expand my horizons, yeah? Sorry for the exposition, it’s been like a season, I needed to recap for the audience at home,” she pointed behind her, to absolutely no one.  

And, oh… there was more in Jade’s script. “Don’t take this personally though, having a rival is like… so good for the ego. And I’m gonna miss the back and forth. Even if right now it’s a lot of forth. It’s not often I get under someone’s skin so easily,” a beat, then perfectly timed, “eh.” She flashed a smile. There was no need for this to be unpleasant. And Mack should know. “I’ll be good to you, I’m not really one for brutality. I’m here to help end this… curse you’re stuck with,” she narrowed her eyes,  “you want that, don’t you? Not having to crave human flesh. Not having to lose control and become a monster who hurts others,” her voice dropped to something more honest, her brows pinched together in concern. “I will help with that”.  

—

Mackenzie thought about the amount of time for a moment. It had been about two weeks since she had been feeling…off, “Yeah, I’d say two weeks is about right. Of course it would be you. It’s always fucking you.” She looked up to the night sky and let out a growl of frustration, “Please! For once! Can I have a break from Buffy the Fucking Vampire Slayer!?” Mack’s fists were clenched and her jaw had tightened as she looked back down with narrowed slits for eyes. If she was ever judging one to the point that she had hoped they would just disappear into a cloud of glittery smoke, it was Jade right now.

As Jade droned on and on and on, Mack found herself slowly unclenching her fists. In fact, by now she was yawning. Glancing down at her phone to see what time it was. Twiddling her thumbs. Hell, she was almost tempted to run off and grab a drink from inside Dance Macabre and come back, by the time Jade had finished talking, “Are you finished with your Holier Than Thou monologue? This isn’t a fucking movie, Jade. If you’re here to fight, which judging by that big ass sword hanging on your back, you are, then lets fucking fight. I’m probably going to kick your scrawny ass anyways.”

By now, Mack had woken up. She was popping her knuckles and cracking her neck loosening up. It had been a minute since she had actually gotten to fight somebody, and if it hadn’t been Jade she was about to face, she might have been more excited. No, the excitement would come when the bitch was laying on the ground eating her words. “And yes. To answer your question.” She already knew what Mack was anyways, “I would like to be rid of this curse of having to live off of human brains to survive, but you’re not going to be the one to rid me of it. I will help knock that ego of yours down a few pegs though.”

—

“Wow, not even one bit of regret for the people you’ve hurt? Come on… That’s pretty low, even for you. Then again, I should've expected it, after Brody,” she clicked her tongue, genuine annoyance simmering in her chest. It was always disappointing when monsters were content with their atrocities. It made it less exciting, for Jade. She felt way less accomplished taking out someone who didn’t care about what they’d done. Which, it should be the opposite, right? She should find so much joy in disposing of that type of beast. (She knew Ruby did, Jasper too). But how could she find a lost cause delightful? She always preferred helping over executing, the way she’d seen Onyx and Amber do. 

But she wasn’t gonna let Mack’s unapologetic attitude get to her head. She had this. She did. Wicked’s Rest would have one less zombie roaming the streets by the end of the night. That’s what she should be focusing on, not on whether Mack had any guilt over the whole brain eating. “Hey! That’s a step too far, like… we don’t have to lie, you know?” she rolled her eyes as Mack came for her ass. She did make one point (half a point, maybe), calling out the fact that Jade was not the most adept fighter. While Mack had done all those stunts back in Hollywood. “Besides, I’m aware it’s not a movie. Do you think they’d have two female protagonists with agency? You know Twitter and Reddit would be rioting, they’d call it woke trash,” she scoffed, looking to gain a few seconds to consider her first blow.

Mack cracked her knuckles in defiance and like, Jade had to respect that. It wasn’t a movie, no duh! but was there anything more fun than someone willing to rise the stakes and serve the plot? The script might be a little skewed in Mack’s favor, but Jade was nothing if not confident she could make this work. Even after Metzli. Even after the banshees. Even after Monty. And oh! There it was, some remorse (she should’ve skipped a few pages before bad mouthing her rival). “You should be honored, actually. Most slayers would just rip your pretty head off without giving you a chance. I’m at least giving you the time to talk. We’re totally passing the Bechdel test”. She pulled out the sword, at Mack’s request, emulating one of her greatest inspirations, CRJ. The blade shone in the moonlight. It didn’t get much use, considering zombies were relatively new in her repertoire. “Only the best for ya,” her lips curved in a challenge, beckoning Mack to draw closer.

—

She had let Brody’s name slide when she had said something before. But, now, to unknowingly claim that Mackenzie had no remorse for the people she had killed, especially Brody, had turned her annoyance into anger. She wasn’t going to play this cute little IRL simulation of a video game, Jade thought she was living in anymore. No, this was Mack’s undead life. She had to live with all the lives she had taken. Even the people she hadn’t killed, because she still survived off of their brains. The thing that made a person who they were, and everytime Mackenzie took a bite of the graymatter that kept her whole; the most important part of a human being that helped them to survive when everything else in their form was shutting down, she regretted it. Copious amounts of pepper and hot sauce could never make the remorse and guilt taste good. But this was what she was. She was far from perfect, but fuck if she was going to let another cocky hunter come into her life and try to tell her how she fucking felt.

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me or my life, Jade. I’m tired of all you motherfucking hunters coming at me and telling me that how I feel is wrong. That how I choose to live my life and how I’m trying to atone and live with myself is wrong. So you can either take your pretty sword and scurry back to your ragtag team of assholes right now. Or I’ll take your pretty sword and shove it so far up your ass that it makes a shish kabob out of your Pretty. Little. Brain.”

Mackenzie snarled as she began to inch closer ready for a fight. She had needed this ever since Jade had first shown up on her doorstep. And while she could never bring back the people she had hurt. And never apologize to Brody and tell him how much she missed him and loved him and how much guilt she felt with each step she took, she could hopefully get Jade off of her back for good; whether that meant life or death for the latter.

—

Jade took in Mack’s anger, raising her sword just a bit higher in case a raging beast lunged at her. But for now, all the bite was in the other woman’s words. And… Even when it was Mack in front of her, a woman who had stolen her boyfriend, a woman she enjoyed tormenting for the sake of it, Jade felt a soft pang in her heart. Sympathy. That’s where Mack was wrong. Jade didn’t care how every other slayer approached hunting, that was their business, she didn’t dispute other people’s codes. But she was different. Not like other hunters. She was… a good hunter (...wait!). The thought slipped out of her mind before she could cling to it, chew on it for a bit, and get something nutritious out of it, cause Mack needed to be interrupted. “You don’t have to live with yourself, is what I’m saying. Forget for a second that you can’t stand my face. If you want out of the Z-life I can give you that out. You don’t… deserve what happened to you. Or living like this. Whoever did it should’ve been taken care of, way before they got to you”.

And that was it, wasn’t it? What Regan didn’t understand, what Van couldn’t get. It was all a freaking cycle. Why did no slayer get to Mack’s maker? Who failed her? Struck young and in her prime and with so much to live for. Who neglected their oath? Was it a hunter who went soft too? Who added grey into the black-and-white world of protecting humankind? Forgiving a monster that should have never been allowed to go free? Had said monster claimed to be a good monster too, possibly? Jade couldn’t allow herself to become part of the cycle. Jade couldn’t fail Mack, or the people Mack might turn if she lost control (when. Sadly it was always when). Jade could break the cycle –this cycle– tonight. She would. The grip on her sword tightened and… wait, a shish kabob!? “Hey! That is offensive,” She narrowed her eyes, but her mouth betrayed the seriousness in her tone. Cause she totally appreciated her brain being called pretty. (Someone across the ocean would agree with that).

Alright, there was snarling now. Mack was pissed (at the wrong person, mind you), and it didn’t look like they had more pages on the script to go over. Action sequence time. She wished she had warmed up her muscles. She felt a little tight, even if her wounds were close to healing. But if she chopped Mack’s head off quickly, that wouldn’t matter. She mirrored Mack’s stance as she approached, brandishing her sword as she stared into her rival’s eyes. All she could think of before either moved, was the tragedy that was Mack’s life, all too clear in her pained eyes. Not for much longer, Jade promised, before striking.

She wasn’t sure who made the first move, things always happened fast when it came to tussling, but a beat later Jade collided with a hard body, and crap… Her original plan to go for the head went out the window. She dodged a few punches (taking on several of them as well), before finding the right angle to impale Mack with her sword. Right in the abdomen. She twisted the blade before pulling away, shoving the woman back with a kick. She would not repeat the mistakes she made with Monty.

—

Mack refused to listen to Jade’s side of the story. Even if she believed she was doing the right thing, Mack wasn’t going to be some mercy killing that the slayer could write off as a job well done. No. Despite being dead, she was still a living and thriving being with feelings and a life, and she was going to make sure the other woman knew that.

Without giving it any more thought, Mackenzie found herself charging forward towards the hunter. Fists balled, she decided to go easy at first. Punches here and there were sometimes dodged and other times not, but being in a fight with someone who had the advantage of a weapon; especially one with extra length, had always proved costly at one point or another, and unfortunately, Mackenzie met that fate early on.

Feeling the blade being impaled into her thin frame caused Mack to cry out. Though the pain wasn’t as bad as if she had been living, she could feel the pressure of the blade being lodged in her belly and then twisted for added impact. As Jade’s foot came up to meet her, the zombie felt herself stumbling backwards, but had managed to catch herself before hitting the ground.

Her eyes bore holes into the other woman as she put a hand to her stomach and pulled it away barely covered in a slow moving sludge. Now, Mack was pissed. She knew this wouldn’t be the thing to take her out, but it would enrage her, and before she would let the zombie part of her take hold, it was time for her to put her black belt in karate to use, “You’re gonna wish you had never done that.”

Poised in a fighting stance, Mackenzie lowered her head focusing her eyes on Jade, before lunging forward and knocking the sword out of the woman’s hand with a roundhouse kick, returning once more to fighting stance, before sending a blow of well placed kicks and punches in Jade’s direction as hard and fast as she could in order to keep the other woman from having an advantage on her. She knew the more energy she burned, the faster her feral zombie side was going to come out and coordination would soon be lost, but if she could just keep her mind intact long enough to take out Jade, she could deal with the zombing out stuff later.

—

She watched zombie “blood” ooze out of Mack’s abdomen, icky fluid sticking to her shirt, some of it coating Jade’s blade. It was kinda interesting, she couldn’t deny it. She rarely got up close and personal with zombies so to see their full physiology on display had Jade’s eyes going wide. For like, half a second, okay? She was supposed to be a pro. (Onyx would’ve tossed that word around ‘rookie’ if he’d seen her, right?). Speaking of being or not being qualified, her cheek throbbed where Mack had landed a few nasty punches, and she was pretty sure the warmth on her face came from her own busted lip. (That and well, the metallic taste in her mouth). But she was fine, she was cool, those were minor setbacks at most, and she could take down Mack if she wanted to. She was better off seizing the offensive than waiting for the right time to counter-attack. 

So, of course, she inched forward when Mack tumbled, lifting her weapon. Jade readied for an overhead attack, to slice with intent and speed. Hack as much as she could on the first try. She didn’t want to extend this longer than it should. (And risk getting bested in combat, again). Too bad there was no such thing as a one-person fight. Cause Mack surged forward and canceled her attack with a genius move, hitting her wrist and kicking the sword off her hand. It clattered onto the ground and Jade wasn’t quick enough to reach for it, cause again, Mack charged forward with fury. And for a moment (or two) (or three), all Jade could do was block and absorb as many hits as she could. 

But it wasn’t enough. Mack’s kicks and punches were too precise for Jade’s deficient training. If she ducked a fist, a foot hit her belly half a second later. If managed to push Mack an inch away, she returned with a vengeance. This was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. 

A particularly strong kick knocked the air out of her lungs, followed by an arm swinging at her that made Jade lose balance. She tumbled backward to the ground, gasping for air. There was not much oxygen getting in, there was blood. Everything was blood. Her lungs burned. But two feet away: her sword. She crawled the small distance, seizing the handle before a shoe could crush her fingers. She rose from the ground and sliced forward. It didn’t matter how much of Mack she cut, as long as Jade slashed something. As long as Mack backed off enough to gather herself.

— 

Mackenzie was charging forward again hoping to get the jump on the sword that lay on the ground, but it was too late. Jade had pulled another slice through the air, this time cutting into the zombie’s neck leaving her once again pulling back on the defensive so as to not get impaled, but the tip of the sword had done enough damage leaving Mack’s neck wide open and more blood oozing out. And unfortunately for them both, it was the damage needed to send Mackenzie’s body into a panic.

Everything that had been keeping the living dead woman alive was now reverting into emergency mode, and instead of leaving her with enough sense to leave the situation, Mackenzie began stumbling forward towards Jade. Any sense of humanity that had been in the woman’s eyes before was gone, but with the lack in brain cells came an increased strength that left her with one goal in mind, food.

As she stumbled closer, Mackenzie managed to aimlessly send Jade to the ground with an increased blow to the stomach, and instinctively dropping to her knees, she crawled on top of the slayer and began pounding into her chest and face with heavy, limp fists on the brink of taking Jade’s head in her hands with one goal, and one goal only…consuming the woman’s brain.

—

Something shifted. A couple things shifted, actually. Mack’s gaze was hazy now, somehow both lost and focused on Jade. What remained of her… humanity, for lack of a better term, slipped away as she let the monster inside her take the wheel. She knew zombies got rowdy like that when they were hurt, she didn’t need the reminder. Mack’s movements were also different from the black belt martial arts fighter she’d been in the beginning. She stumbled forward, gait all wrong, all feral, looking at Jade the way Regan would look at her sometimes. (Except with none of the gayness). She was a snack, plain and simple.

But Jade wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. Becoming Mack’s meal would be so humiliating after dishing it out. The sword pointed forward as a threat didn’t dissuade Mack this time, cause there was no Mack to dissuade. It was the creature now. She aimed for the neck again, desperate to slash and tear any flesh there, until the neck couldn’t sustain her head anymore. (Her belly was sick just picturing it, she was not a butcher), but when she pounced, she was met with Mack’s response. A tackle that was a hundred percent effective, throwing her to the ground, her head bouncing as it hit the asphalt. Ouch. She saw stars, and she didn’t have to be a genius to know when something was gonna bleed. She couldn’t worry about that. Her hand was still grasping the sword, by sheer stubbornness at this point. She could stab Mack, she could if…

The zombie crawled on top of her, supernatural strength overpowering her own special hunter sauce. Fists pounded on her chest and her abdomen. Like Jade was nothing but a steak to tenderize. Or well, a peach to beat to a pulp (but peaches were a sensitive topic). And oof, she heard a crack, maybe. Jade wasn’t sure anymore. Her sword had slipped off her hand while she tried in vain to protect herself from the beating. She couldn’t breathe. She was coughing out her own blood, trying to clear her airway. She gasped, frantic, almost in vain, blocking one blow to the stomach only to get another savage fist right below her collarbone. 

Was this it? Was she letting Mack take her out? Oh, something was definitely broken, radiating pain all across her ribcage. And nope, it wasn't her heart. (That one still hurt the most, somehow). And that… Regan. Her mind inevitably shifted to the one responsible for the more agonizing pain, as she held onto Mack's wrist long enough to stop the battering. Maybe her brain was supplying comfort images before she kicked it. Kinda nice! It could only be improved if they were accompanied by a sweet saxophone in the background. She would take a highlight reel with the best of Regan if the next punch was the one to end her, thank you very much. 

She wasn’t sure how, (plot armor, maybe), but there was a split second of clarity, where Jade realized she was giving up. Which was actually? So offensive and out of character coming from her, the most determined person on the planet. Come on! She couldn’t bite the dust yet. Regan would know. She said so. Would she scream? Jade wasn’t sure how that worked. Surely there was like, a distance limit, a radio, something for that kinda stuff. A geo-block, like on Youtube. (Ireland would geo-block her death) But nope! She’d never wanna be the one to help Regan test that out. And on a real note, there was a ring on her finger that dictated she had to live for a couple more decades, actually.

Jade hooked her leg behind Mack’s upper thigh, hips bucking forward, letting muscle memory be the MVP as she flipped them over. (It would be her core strength, saving her when nothing else could). She braced all her weight onto her right palm, and for the split moment she had the zombie shook, Jade allowed herself to... well, she couldn’t breathe, but recharge, maybe. She had no punches left in her though, she was positive. Her arm was trembling, not just from holding her weight, but from the wounds she’d picked up last week. But Jade had a knife… she had a knife. She reached the back of her belt, almost dying right on the spot from the sharp pain shooting up her ribs, but her fingers worked diligently to unsheath the weapon. There was no thought behind anything. It was just life or death. It was her hand, a knife, and the promise of salvation. And at last, some survival instinct kicked in. 

She plunged the blade into Mack’s thigh, hilt deep, pouring every drop of energy left, the tendons in her arm bulging from exertion. She retrieved the weapon, going back in again, and again. The monster wailed beneath her, and Jade had to resist the violent shoving against her shoulders attempting to knock her out. And then nails trying to dig into her scalp. (Not her hair, anything but her hair). A knife and the audacity would not be enough against this Mack. She stretched (ouch) to her sword, noticing the Claddagh ring stained with her own blood. Another incentive: She had to go home to clean it. 

So Jade slashed. And she felt sick, bile (or maybe blood, it could be blood) rising up her throat with every desperate wail beneath her. How could Parker ever do this? She was not a butcher. But as long as the sharp end of her weapon met flesh, tore muscle and tendons, and severed the limb to the point where amputation might be the only answer, Jade had a chance to escape and not be chased. Regan would not scream for her tonight. 

Of course, the adrenaline of getting close to victory made her cocky. Jade thought for a second about going for the neck, finishing her job while at it. But not only was Mack clawing and scratching her shoulders, looking to hold her tight enough to chomp on her head, she was also transforming into a more unrecognizable monster. (Weren’t they both?) Nope, how about some self-preservation? She had tested Monty this week already. Jade had to pick her battles. She stabbed with the sword one final time, pinning Mack there while she crawled away from the body. Somehow, she scrambled to her feet. Barely. She felt like fainting. Blood was sticking to the back of her head, her ears ringing, vision blurry. Oh, she was not gonna be able to get too far. (And not to alarm the audience at home, but… would she even make it?). She didn’t need far. She needed away from Mack so she couldn’t hop to her. Away enough for some poor soul to become Mack’s chance at survival instead of her. That was a failure in itself, wasn’t it? Jade was putting her life above those she swore to protect. Great. She might bleed to death alone (the way she always thought she would go, anyway) and be reminded she was nothing but the sum of her mistakes? It was a little rude.

Once she reached safety she’d call Emilio. The rest of her friends would be horrified if they found her beaten to a pulp (and half of them had gone to Ireland on chill vacay, anyway). Her knees buckled and she hit the ground again. Crawling it was. Jade would do what needed to be done, getting farther and farther away from Mack, no mental power to quip a promise of revenge. And when she couldn’t see Mack anymore, when she tucked herself into an alley, back against the wall, everything went black.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I said this in the tags of another post, but I do wonder if someone is, er, distraught and slighted about an upcoming release because they genuinely didn’t think Taylor would reveal some of these things, because they knew better than anyone how painful things had been in the past for her to process and that she kept some of that under wraps for so long out of self-preservation. (Which is why songs like Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve, YOYOK, High Infidelity, etc. Were so shocking, because they touched subjects she previously kept a lid on or stated were too difficult to talk about.)

So they perhaps assumed that even in the event of a breakup, the really painful stuff would stay locked away in a metaphorical vault as well, or stay shrouded in metaphor. But they were, er, taken by surprise by the fact that a) she’s ripped the bandaid off (first on Midnights and then on tour and now with ~everything~ in her life e.g. publicly calling people out in interviews/going after DM and other gossip/etc.) b) done so so soon and c) done so so publicly (e.g. huge publicity campaign instead of a surprise album drop). Which is why their team is scrambling to put together a counter-narrative because the self-protection they counted on on her part and perhaps had even weaponized in recent years is potentially giving way to a public confessional…

[skepticalpigeon]

Christian conservatives™ make marriage sound so unappealing to me personally. Like you're allowed (and supposed) to have sex with this man, but you can't get an abortion, and you shouldn't really use birth control. You have to pump out an undefined amount of kids and cook and clean and care for all of them. You can't really afford to get sick, or your family will fall apart. Also you have to take his last name and do whatever he says. And you can only really get a divorce if he cheats on you or beats you, and even then, is it really that bad?

[ladamedusoif]

oh no not another character everyone has already decided is a homewrecking slut before we know a single thing

[pretend-pretend-vampire]

just had session 0.5 of ilaria's game, in which the storyteller and I established a bit of the background surrounding ilaria's Embrace. here's a small timeline! it's very fucked up (cults, suicide, vampiric age differences, charm and blood bonding, infidelity, head trauma, etc.)! they're hecata though, what do you expect.

ilaria married their husband durante when they were 30 and he was. well. we didn't establish his age exactly. they'd been dating for 2 years at that point. we did not cover this in detail

what we DID cover in detail was how cool his adoptive mother evelyn is. cool enough of a mother-in-law that she invited ilaria to a bahari church and with a little bit of... persuasion... got them to commit some very sadistic infidelity with her + one of the bahari believers and then blood bonded ilaria afterwards. awful stuff, but again. hecata.

hubby was annoyed that ilaria was out longer than usual without telling him but he's pathetic and annoying so that was unimportant

despite not being religious, the bahari church and the lilins within were pretty cool. there was a nosferatu, claire, who answered a lot of questions. also injuries are fun to look at. lots of worrying vague cultish talk that didn't bother ilaria that much because that's just how religions are and it was amusing. plus evelyn is just so damn charming they can't help but stick around

and then, 6 months after the blood bond, the walk. they took a turn down a dark alley and WHAM evelyn got hit in the back of the head with a metal baseball bat. ilaria went protecc mode and despite getting hit in the shoulder for 1 point of damage they managed to rip the guy's bat out of his hands and scare him off.

they checked on evelyn, who hadn't moved since being knocked to the ground with a caved-in skull. except... her skull started knitting itself back together. she got up of her own accord and was very suddenly on top of ilaria.

the bite came next. the single most agonising thing ilaria had ever felt, far beyond any 10 most mortals would ever experience. even a big tough dom like ilaria was reduced to a crying, writhing mess who couldn't escape no matter how hard they tried. they were completely drained of life.

after that, an after you'd never expect to happen... they awoke with a wrist at their lips. evelyn's wrist, bleeding into their mouth less than you'd expect for how deep the cut was. evelyn retreated when they stirred and loosely bandaged the wound. ilaria felt this... need. they weren't sure what for. it was like a hunger, like a thirst, something fundamental they couldn't quite place.

evelyn offered them something. bags of red, bags of blood. almost mindlessly, barely even aware of themself and entirely incapable of stopping themself, they slaked their all-consuming thirst with the liquid.

when they calmed down, evelyn gave them some basics on the situation and expectations. ilaria couldn't help but listen, having had 2 sips from her already. she was so sweet, so kind, even if she had just inflicted something so incomprehensibly horrible on them. the aura of unease that had followed her while ilaria was human had vanished.

a few days of experimentation and growing, growling thirst later, ilaria approached evelyn about feeding. evelyn explained some more about how if they want the pangs to leave, they'll have to drain someone to death. they talked about blood resonances for a bit (ilaria rolled their eyes at the 4 humours) too

the first kill was decided. ilaria went to a bridge on the river and, luckily, found a lone man there ready to jump. ilaria went to Get Him and it was. pretty bad. he accepted their offer to end it for him, but hecata bites make it not so easy, and, despite himself, he struggled. they didn't let go. they drank up every last drop of life from him, enjoying it as both a sadist and a vampire. those weren't the only sensations in the mix though, and they! were! traumatised! yay!!!

evelyn was sympathetic for how bad that was and ilaria' felt incredibly conflicted about how it went. evelyn handled corpse disposal not by chucking the man in the river but by turning him to dust.

the two had A Talk in the car, and it turns out that was maybe kind of slightly unnecessary. ilaria didn't have it in them to HATE evelyn, but there was definitely anger bubbling over. hooray for composure as a dump stat!

durante was waiting at home, and when he saw ilaria's bloodstained chin and clothes, he got angry. he confronted them about the Embrace, saying he'd been waiting for his turn for 70 goddamn years. apparently he'd been ghoulified when he was younger by his now-deceased biological parents and he'd waited for his parents and then his adoptive mother to sire him.

unfortunately for durante, he had never been vampire material! spineless, weak, subservient, pathetic. exactly what had made him a good partner for the commanding ilaria, though things had become more and more strained over the years.

strained enough that after a talk about how incompetent he was and how maybe he should try harder, lol, he threatened his wife. he told them if they stayed the day they wouldn't see the next night.

ilaria got the last laugh and left, managing to duck out of the way of a statuette he tried to throw at them. they returned to evelyn and explained the whole "your son and I are getting a divorce" thing and they laughed together about it because god he's a loser

more information on the kindred world was passed along to ilaria. the masquerade, the factions, the clans. also, turns out evelyn is close to 200 years old!

a few months later, ilaria and evelyn attended a hecata family gathering. a charismatic samedi, jackson, recognised evelyn and greeted her there. he (and evelyn) explained a bit about the different families present, as well as The Family Reunion. ilaria listened, but was fascinated by the rotting state of the man and got a little too excited! yay messy criticals! their Beast spoke to and as them about how he'd look so pretty all cut up, which intimidated him into leaving.

more soon!

[gothicragdollbathory]

[themagickingdomrp]

King Knox  ▪ 30 ▪ Cis Man ▪ He/Him/His ▪ Vin Zhang ▪ Unaffiliated ▪ Open 

Triggers: Execution, Coup, Childhood Trauma, Abuse, Mental Illness, Emotional Cheating

→ Past

Knox never knew his father and having known his mother his entire life, frankly, he couldn't blame the man for leaving. In the best of times, the Duchess was senile. She prattled on and on and forgot to do basic things, like feed her only son. Once, she mistook a pig for him. There were other times when she was much worse, snapping at him for no apparent reason. The Duchess loved him and he loved her, but he essentially had to raise himself. It was during one of his "hide and seek" sessions as a boy that he found a lost little kitten. Of course, he quickly realized his mistake. She was a shapeshifter. That was how he met Kit. That was how he first fell in love. Maybe that should have been enough. The two of them grew up together, bonding in a way only two lonely (and traumatized) people could. However, Knox wanted more. So, when the Queen of Hearts asked to marry him, he accepted. Unfortunately, that meant letting the person he loved go.

→ Present

Knox made a name for himself as a wise and kind king. A lovely foil to the queen. He often had to pardon people who angered his wife, making sure they didn't execute everyone in Wonderland. This charm and benevolence was what helped him establish his own power. Unfortunately, Knox was greedy. He staged a failed coup. Knox was sure the ordeal would end in his death. In a way, it did. Victoria, his ever-intuitive wife, implicated and executed Kit. Knox, though technically under house arrest, possesses strong levels of magic. So, he often escapes the castle without anyone noticing. He is intent on slowly building his power, one way or another.

[patnaneuro]

http://canchildhoodtraumamakeyoutoxic.splashthat.com

[lorawant2sleep]

know a lot more family lore than your brother because most of it is "women's stuff" that is never told to men

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

[novlr]

How to Write Betrayal

Betrayal is a powerful plot element that is represented in countless stories. The gravity of betrayal brings a profound depth to character dynamics, plots, and themes alike, making it an indispensable tool for writers to explore emotions, conflicts, and the complexities of human nature. Let’s explore some quick tips on how to write betrayal!

Behaviour

Secretive actions

Dishonesty

Becoming emotionally distant

A sudden change in routine

Pushing people away

Nervous or fidgety movement

Frequent lying or making up stories

Unexpected aggression or irritability

Unjustified mood swings or emotional outbursts

Increasingly defensive

Interactions

Disturbed interpersonal relationships

Frequent misunderstandings or fights

Withholding information

Avoiding personal discussions

Insincerity in conversations

Frequently cancelling or missing plans

A sudden shift in relationship dynamics

Quick to deflect or place blame

Frequent subject changes

Gradual emotional detachment

Body Language

Avoiding direct eye contact

Defensive stance and crossed arms

Covering mouth or touching face

Shuffling or restless movements

Forcing smiles or laughter

Constantly looking around or at the ground

Stiff, tense posture

Heavy breathing or frequent sighing

Avoiding touch or skin contact

Exaggerated gestures

Attitude

A lack of concern or empathy

Increasingly personal and hurtful arguments

Erratic or unpredictable reactions

Self-centeredness

Insincerity

Dismissive or negative attitude

Callous disregard for other's feelings

A negative or pessimistic outlook

Inability to handle criticism

Withdrawal from relationships

Positive Story Outcomes

In the wake of a betrayal, a story can manifest various positive outcomes that add depth to the plot and its characters. Relationships can be strengthened, showing their resilience. Characters may discover newfound self-reliance and learn valuable lessons about trust and forgiveness, leading to an increase in empathy and understanding, personal growth, and the reinforcement of personal values. These experiences can encourage a clearer understanding of personal boundaries, prompt self-reflection, introspection, and the development of healthier coping mechanisms. Ultimately, these positive outcomes can bring about improved communication and honesty, forming the silver lining in the cloud of betrayal.

Negative Story Outcomes

The aftershocks of betrayal can reverberate throughout your story. This might include an irreparable fracture of trust and damage to relationships. Betrayal can trigger psychological trauma, leading to an increase in suspicion and insecurity. Feelings of inadequacy or self-blame may surface, and characters can experience a heightened sense of isolation. The fear of forming new relationships or trusting others can become overwhelming. There may also be an escalation of conflict or violence and the reinforcement of negative behaviours or patterns. Damaged self-esteem or self-worth may be another repercussion, and this can encourage destructive coping mechanisms.

Helpful Synonyms

Treachery

Deception

Double-crossing

Duplicity

Backstabbing

Two-faced

Disloyalty

Unfaithfulness

Infidelity

Falseness

Perfidy

Treason

Fraud

Deceit

Slander

Misrepresentation

Falsification

Chicanery

Double-dealing