Septumized Couture

Lost

worstyoucanimagine:

Hearing her name morphed his pseudo-impassive countenance into genuine triumph. Sure, he hadn’t assumed that would be her name (Loretta, Jolene, Annette—something with innocuous spunk), but the point was she’d finally told him. Had only needed a bit of incentive first; she was hardheaded, he’d figured.

“Pa”—he licked his lips—“tri”—he riveted her cleavage—“cia,” His fingers curled tighter around her bundled hair. “Nice to meet you.” Irony was such fun to ridicule.

He relaxed his hold merely to roam his hand down her nape, then averted onto her problematic shoulder. Instead of the massage he offered, he clenched muscle roughly, nails embedded, and he’d made the injury worse: petty revenge for her being so difficult. He squeezed a little more at her requesting a reason that he’d singled her out, rolling his eyes.

And yet she wondered still, like his affinity was a great encryption life had conjured. Hers was a spiel that exasperated Mac, he’d heard it so often in various degrees. None of them should ever question him. They needed to just accept he, as a red-blooded, able bodied man, wanted something they presented.

“I like women.” was his vague reply, said as if it was incredibly blatant.

What wasn’t to like about them? They came in many shapes and sizes; they bore an innate strength that was astounding; they displayed both powerful emotions as well as logic. Women were magnificent organisms whom could oppose severity that should crumble them. Mac enjoyed seeing a woman be the best she could be when he delivered those unfair brutalities they suffered. After a session with Mac, each time and every time revealed the masterpiece named female. People called it “gruesome.” He labeled it “gorgeous.”

Mac smirked, nonchalant to Patricia’s indignation. “It’s not the right answer. You know it, I know it, so quit playin’ games, Patricia.” he finished on a terse growl.

She shut her eyes even tighter at the forceful grab on her hair before breathing out in a sigh. A smirk plastered in her cherry red lips “Nice to meet you, Mac” she said in the same ironic tone he distilled in his poisoned words.

Grateful for the way he eased his grip, even nice in the way he touched her before he smashed her shoulder in his hand. “What the…!!!” she hollered gasping for air as her eyes rolled back in her head, trying to hold back the pain in any way, but it would soon be sweated out through her skin.

She took hard grip on his clothes. Hold to not faint because of the stinging pain on her joint, getting abused. A shiver jolting down her spine as a whip had snapped there. Nails buried with wrath and anger in his skin from through the clothes. “Fucking.Let.Me.Go” she requested, remarking every single word of the little phrase.

The right answer? what the hell was he even talking about?. “I’m not playing any game, asshole. What the fuck do you want from me, huh?” she asked again a little tired of his manners “If you liked women that much, you wouldn’t be treating one as you’re doing”. She’d never felt so hateful for any human being. How could any man be like he was? What had leaded him to be that way?

All her alarms going off. Where all those stories that she had heard about him truth? Was her the next of his ‘desires’? How do you even get rid off of someone like him? A chill making her body tremble with panic. He could overpower her so easily. Not that she was really small or weak, but caught surprisedly as a deer flashed in the middle of the road.

14 hours ago with 13 notes