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edgeray · 8 months ago

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“LATE NIGHT DEVIL, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

and never never never ever let go”- Teeth, 5 Seconds of Summer

Mafia AU! Arlecchino x Reader Oneshot

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've actually published anything on here. Well, my gay ass is back with another oneshot. This one has been in the works for at least a month. I'm considering making a Part 2, but that will definitely take at least a couple weeks for me to publish (if not months). I wish I was kidding. School literally hates me and my teachers are incessant on killing my GPA. This is also a gift for @megistusdiary because it'll be her birthday when I post this. Please go check out her blog for amazing genshin wlw content (especially Arlecchino content!) Would you guys like this on AO3 as well?

Content Warning/Info: This is a long af oneshot (6.3k words), long af descriptions and kinda long intro, Arlecchino is referred to with they/them pronouns, implied female but no usage of feminine pronouns for Reader, general dark-ish content, pet names, Arlecchino is a lil scary, I've never been to a club so I apologize for the very inaccurate information, nor have I ever been apart of the mafia so also inaccurate, a bit suggestive but otherwise sfw, if I'm missing anything feel free to tell me!

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Monsters are said to have lied underneath beds–waiting to ensnare an unknowing victim–or stalk hidden among the depths of a closet–awaiting an opportune moment to strike its next prey. Monsters are fabled entities that are used to scare off children from bad behavior and are quickly eased from the mind by coddling parents. The mere notion of a monster shooed away like a pesky fly, swept underneath the subconscious like forgotten specks of dirt.

You know otherwise. Real monsters don’t lurk on the undersides of mattresses; no, they lurk both in the skies above and the depths below. They do not stalk dark closets because they instead stalk alleys in daylit streets. Monsters are very real, that you know is true since you’ve seen your fair share of them. You’ve met monsters in person–they’ve come to you before. Terrifying is an understatement for them, and each time one has appeared as a client, you’re no less scared shitless.

You’ve learned that even inhumane demons find themselves in need of entertainment; like the sinful creatures they are, they seek self-pleasure. And that is how you found yourself in this particular circle of hell, meant to serve and please demons, devils, and monsters alike. Perhaps it was a revolting job, working at a strip club run by a criminal organization but it paid decent money for being danced on the fingertips of whoever you were unfortunate enough to be assigned to.

If it was a regular strip club, being an exotic dancer would have been fine. It wouldn't be so bad. Lustful and prying eyes can be accustomed to quickly, and so are the flattering compliments and the awkward flirting by middle-aged married men. However, there was a difference between lecherous and predatory gazes. Here, you aren’t even viewed as a person, no, the clients here, those that come in reeking of smoke or blood (though sometimes both), armed with knives and guns on their person, see you as nothing more than a toy or prey for them. Even in the eyes of your employer, you're less than human in their eyes.

‘You harm our merchandise, you’ll pay for it,’ is the warning given to every guest when they first enter. Merchandise. That's what you are. And that single line of words is the only thing that assures you of your safety among mafia members, gangsters, crooks, and whatnot. You've heard that the organization behind this strip club does well in enforcing that rule according to other dancers, but you personally don't want to see if the statement is true. You've been here for a little over a year, and besides bruising grips and pulled hair you’ve surprisingly yet to be seriously injured in any way. So maybe monsters do have a little humanity in them.

You're quickly growing to be a fan favorite as of recently, which means more money goes your way, but you're not sure how you feel about all the attention on you. It's most likely because of how often you offer private dances and private rooms to clients. Whatever gets you the most money; the faster you make money the faster you can pay off your debt and be out of here.

Tonight is supposed to be no different from other nights. You perform on stage, you rile up the crowd, you get showered in tips, and if there is a customer that looks mentally sane enough not to murder you in private, you take them to the back. Except, tonight, you're approached by your boss, who informs you that the entirety of the club was reserved by the Fatui, a well-known mafia more powerful and larger than the one that backs you up, for some celebration. These kinds of occurrences in the club rarely crop up, but when they do, they're often the most opportune time to bag in an abundant amount of money. Big shots like the Fatui pay and tip well, but there's one unsaid risk that comes with this: as a mere dancer like yourself, your life quite literally dangles in the Fatuis’ hands tonight. The organization that owns this establishment can't retaliate against the Fatuis if they so choose to dismiss the warning. They can't even compare to the might of the Fatui.

Simply put, if a Fatui kills you tonight, no one could do more besides bat their eyelashes. You're not at all pleased with this predicament of practically bordering on death, especially when you know one wrong move with one too hot-tempered Fatui could land you at the pearly gates. Keep pleasing the crowd, keep entertaining them, keep racking in the money, you remind yourself as you continue your dance, twirling around the pole sensually, and the customers devour every movement with their eyes. The only comfort you're given is that you've heard the Fatui are quite reasonable and diplomatic most of the time. This is especially true for the Harbingers, you've heard, the twelve most elite members that serve under the Tsaritsa, and the ones that are the most exclusive customers this night. That doesn't mean the Harbingers are any more humane than the average crook. Having worked in a strip club run by the mafia and surrounded by criminal organizations, the more rumored something is, the more dangerous it is. They can be considered devils amongst demons even. That's simply how vile they're supposed to be.

The most concerning problem about the Harbingers is that you don’t know what they look like, only the occasional whisper has alluded to how to distinguish between the twelve. Perhaps, you can survive through the night if you try not to draw too much attention; let the other dancers shine instead and hope you don’t get requested for a private room or dance. That way, you can ensure you don’t end up dead.

Your time to go upstage comes sooner than you’re prepared for. Your hands are clammy, and your form trembles in a way that only happened during your first month. Both reactions don’t make for a very good combination when your survival relies on you not fucking up and disappointing criminal customers. As you approach the pole, just like every time you’ve done, you make sure that the crowd’s gazes are in the backdrop of your mind, and instead, fixate on repeating the movements you’ve been taught and have mastered with your experience. Bet your survival on the provocative sway of your hips, the practiced showcase of your legs, and the allure of your dancing form. Beguile the crowd, but not too much, just enough to wow them. From what you can tell by the volume of the crowd, you’re doing a good job pleasing the Fatui enough. Your body stops tremoring after a few minutes on stage, and with one last final push of courage, you focus your eyes on the crowd before you.

Unsurprisingly, the makeup of the Fatui are men, though there are notably quite a few women. Either way, all of their attention is on you. As your eyes scan across a crowd, for one reason or another, you stop at a particular set of eyes near the back of the crowd. Intent, pitch-black abysses stare back, like they were trying to bore into your soul and devour every single motion of yours. They don’t quite hold the same ravenous desire as many of those before you right now, you mentally note with curiosity. It feels like your form is being calculated, in the way a predator would cautiously observe their next prey, a sensation you’ve experienced a few times, but each is no less chilling. The weight of their engrossed gaze causes you to shiver momentarily, and you snap away from their disturbing gaze to prevent any fumbling or faltering while you’re on stage.

Tonight marks the first time you actively seek out the same viewer while on stage, or even, during your entire time here. For some reason, you feel awfully bold, or curious, whichever two comforts you more, and unlike the meek little rabbit you usually are, you instead search for the viewer’s gaze. You find the pair of eyes with relative ease, as you remember that above their eyes are distinctive snow-white strands with streaks as black as their orbs. You take a moment to study them, and they remind you of a lion–or lioness–among hyenas. The aura they exude varied quite a bit compared to the other Fatui in front of you: not rambunctious, or arrogant; it's apparent they held an aura of indomitable authority just from the way they held themselves. Perfect posture with their clasped hands nested in their lap, with one leg raised over the other. They’re an embodiment of perfected elegance, however, much like a porcelain doll, they’re also expressionless, their appearance unmarred. You don’t examine the Fatui’s form for much longer because their scrutiny on you pricks at your skin irritatedly.

You don’t look for them again throughout your performance. In fact, you hope you never meet those charcoal pits again. You’re afraid that if you do, you’ll be ensnared by whatever beastly claws or fangs you know that Fatui hides underneath that impenetrable mask. The moment your time on stage ends, you rush back to the changing room to shake off your nerves. You sit down at a nearby chair, taking in deep sighs as you attempt to forget how you were stared down like a you were cornered, defenseless animal. And that is what you are, as much as you hate it. There’s nothing that can protect you from the Fatui. Maybe if you hide, never show your face for the rest of the night, they’ll forget they ever saw you and they’ll target another dancer. Surely, that will work, won’t it?

You’re able to steady your breathing before you can delve into a panic attack. Tonight, you decide, you’re not going to take any customers to any private rooms or take any private dances. You’d be missing out on a lot of money, but your life is more of a priority as of currently; not after the ‘encounter’ with that individual, you don’t want to think about how many more are just like them, hiding in the crowd like they were awaiting an opportunity to pounce on your vulnerable form.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else has other plans for you because your manager storms into the room asking for your whereabouts before his eyes narrow on you. You immediately sit up, stiff as a board when he practically marches his way towards you.

"Someone wants you."

You sigh and shake your head. You should have known. "Not tonight."

He clicks his tongue. "You know I can't allow that tonight."

You bite your lip. "Just pass them to someone else."

"They're not someone you or I can refuse."

"Who?" You question with a shuddering breath, your nails digging into your thigh.

"The fourth one. The Knave. Lord Arlecchino."

Fuck your life. You might as well pull the trigger now. You’ve heard faint whispers of each Harbinger from the customers audacious enough to speak of them. The youngest, the eleventh, charming and boyish. The ninth, money-obsessed but a pretty looker. The eighth, elegant and cold, yet no less alluring. The seventh, as human-like as their robotic creations, which to say isn’t very. The sixth, is hotheaded and mysterious. The fifth, unknown. And the fourth?

Insane. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. That’s how the fourth is described. You shiver at the horrors that appear on the forefront of your mind when imagining what may come for you. If you're lucky, you'll be alive at the end of the night, more than likely clinging to the edge of living.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Get ready as soon as you can.”

And you do. It’s not long until you stand in front of the private room’s door, your guest is already inside more than likely. The Fourth Harbinger is waiting, you remind yourself, fruitlessly trying to swallow down your stress. You can be dead the minute you step inside, this room could be marked as your grave. Whatever he tells you to do, you’ll obey wordlessly to survive. Just nod along, smile, and do whatever it is that he tells you regardless of the demand. You inhale deeply, regaining some ease of mind, before you bring your knuckles to the door, knocking.

“Come in,” comes a deep, flat voice, slightly muffled by its distance but what surprises you is how feminine the Harbinger sounds. Maybe you got the wrong room. You glance back at the room number plate on the door, and it’s the room you remember your manager mentioning. It’s the right room. Maybe someone else? You don’t have time to wonder, however, as you enter the room, knowing that if it is the Fourth, it wouldn’t be wise to keep him (Her? Them? You’ll just stick with ‘them’ now.) waiting.

“Lord Arlecchino?” You inquire as you enter the room, closing the door behind you. Sucking in a harsh inhale, you instantly recognize their distinct hair. It’s them. Your sight is immediately greeted by the figure sitting on the couch before you, sitting in exactly the same way you discovered them–crossed-legged and lounging back with unfaltering confidence. The Knave wears a scarlet blazer over a black compressed turtleneck, with a matching set of crimson leggings. Upon closer inspection, you’re able to make out red irises in their jet-black eyes. Despite the blatant and literal red flag, something about their appearance draws you in even when they scream danger. They’re… you’re not quite sure how to describe them. You admire the unblemished and pale skin, their elegant and rugged demeanor is like the perfect balance between femininity and masculinity. Are they beautiful, or are they handsome? You think both.

Arlecchino stares back at you like they’re considering devouring you then and there. You can’t suppress the shudder that runs down your spine. You’re a sheep before a wolf. There’s something so chilling about them that even with your experience with other clients, none has ever made you feel this way with just their mere gaze alone. This is what separates the average crook from one of the most powerful mafia members you've ever heard of.

You wait for a response but they only continue to observe you. You take the silence as confirmation to your question and that they’re anticipating something from you. Biting back a sigh of resignation, your hands hook underneath the band of your bra top and you lift it just the slightest amount before a cutting voice makes you freeze.

“What are you doing?” the Harbinger demands, their tone chilling and apathetic, making you want to shrink in yourself immediately. Your blood pumps loudly in your ears and your hands tremble a bit. Something about how designing their gaze makes you suddenly self-aware in a way you’ve never felt before another client–you’re practically half-naked in front of them with your skimpy bra top, undergarments, and fishnets and now is the only moment that you've actually considered how little covering is on you.

Why are they stopping you? Isn’t this what they wanted you to do? Or maybe they just want to do it themselves. Those types of customers always have the most bruising of grips and suffocating of holds. You stiffen at the notion. How are you going to survive this night with a Fatui Harbinger of all things? How many of your limbs are going to be fractured and how many of your bones are going to end up broken?

“I…I’m undressing,” your meek voice sounds out and you hate the crack in your speech. The Harbinger continues to scrutinize you. You don’t dare continue disrobing yourself.

There are several beats of wordless response before they then stand up from the couch.

Oh shit. You’ve fucked up. Are they going to kill you now? Is this your end?

Every thought is telling you to run in the opposite direction as they stalk up to you, but you're petrified as you realize with a chill that they’re taller than you. You’re not short by any means, a bit above average height, but they tower over you, looking down at you from above and casting judgment on you like a god. Once they stride toward you, you avoid eye contact by looking straight, observing their neck and clavicle that protrudes from underneath the fabric. You tense when they raise a hand, their manicured fingers placing themselves underneath your chin and long, carmine nails dig into the underside of your jaw, making you wince. They forcefully tilt your head, raising your focus onto their face.

It’s like they plunged their hands down your throat and ripped out the oxygen from your lungs, leaving you unable to breathe. Up close, the first thing you notice is their lips, plump and red from their lipstick. Briefly, you wonder what color their lipstick would look on your skin. Then your eyes travel up, red-crossed eyes gaze back at you and you gape quietly at the distinct shape of their pupils. You swear that their pupils flash red as you finally lock eye contact with them.

“Did I tell you to?” Their tone is cold compared to the strange softness of their handsome (beautiful?) face.

Something in your gut coils inwardly and you want to look away, but their firm hold on your chin prevents you. You bite your bottom lip to repress a whimper. You’re delicate glass in their hands, and they can break you so, so easily.

“No, sir.” Only the numerous times you’ve said this phrase ensures you don’t stumble over your words. They don’t answer promptly, but as they observe your features, their lips quirk up the slightest amount.

“You know how to address me. Very good,” Arlecchino purrs after several beats of silence, in a low, oh-so-sultry tone, and oh. Oh.

You’re not sure why, but their last two words make your stomach churn, but not in a discomforting way. In the way that lights a fire underneath your skin and spreads heat to every part of your body. You’ve never quite felt this way with another customer. You couldn’t believe that your body reacts this way just from a single praise but it doesn’t stop the pooling heat in your bowels. The chill down your spine still remains in place, but there’s an off-putting equilibrium of iciness and fervor generated from the client.

The Fatui’s eyes stay fixated on you wordlessly until the hand on your chin turns your head, finally breaking you free of their intense behold. Their grip slackens so that they can trace their nails gently down your throat, every inch of surface their fingertips brush against ignites a blaze on your skin. A shuddering exhale leaves your lips and it seems like they take notice because from the corner of your eye, the small uptick of their mouth grows. Despite how sensual and probing the Harbinger’s touch feels, there’s nothing lecherous about it–purely just intrigue and fascination. It’s a touch you both have and never experienced before. Cold nails rake against your throat, not enough to mark or scratch, but enough to invoke shivers.

You’re aware you should be terrified, but for a reason you can’t pin down, you can’t jerk away from their touch. You try to reason with yourself it was only because you’re one upset away from getting yourself killed but that reasoning falls apart when their hand gingerly traces your jawline and you make the softest of groans, a barely audible noise of content. Unfortunately for you, the sound seems to have reached Arlecchino’s ears and their expression softens slightly: their eyes narrow less and their brows aren’t as creased. And that smirk–if you could even call it that from how faint it is–becomes a half-smirk.

They pull their hand away and your trance is broken, reality returning back to you as you remember that the person before you is still a Fatui Harbinger, no matter how bizarrely melting their touch was. They turn on their heel and walk towards the couch in front of you; the slightest bit of heaviness is placed on your heart. You remain stationary where you are, observing them as they seat themselves gracefully on the couch, and their attention encounters yours again. Their black pits hold expectancy in them. At first, you’re clueless as to what the criminal desires from you, but then their legs spread apart, an inviting gesture that beckons you and every rational thought leaves your easily swayed mind. Your heart skips a beat, and you're sure this time it's not out of trepidation.

Even if you didn’t command them to, your legs would take you to their seating figure. You stand before them, feeling blatantly disrespectful to look down at Arlecchino, but you await their order. They lean back, lounging laxly against the couch, their posture never lacking their usual self-assurance. It only ties the knot in your gut tighter. You’re aware of what they’re instructing you to do, but the absent confirmation makes you hesitant. It seems like the Knave picks up on this because the room echoes with one definitive spouted word from their lips, authority and dominance ringing through their husky voice.

“Sit.”

Your legs buckle underneath you from the one-worded response, the demand only stoking the consuming fire inside you. Eager to please, you perch yourself on their lap, straddling them, your knees pressed into the furniture below you and encasing both of their thighs between your own.

Oh, you think to yourself as your legs make contact with their thighs. They're firm. And for some reason, that provokes your stomach to churn in itself even more. You're so close to them, enough to feel their breath cascade against your skin.

As you seat yourself, you nearly clumsily topple over, instinctively grasping onto their shoulders for support. Their shoulders are remarkably broad, you regard, well-muscled as well. Their hands creep up on your hips, steady but gentle hands grasping on each bare side of yours to stabilize you. The heat that radiates from their hands is infectious, regardless of the nails that burrow into your plush waist. For the first time, you flush considerably, a sweltering inferno forming in your cheeks and your head fills with dizziness. Their touch is gentle–something you rarely experience with customers–so, so gentle that you would describe it as heavenly. How can someone so inexplicably vile have heaven on their fingertips?

It's not a position you never found yourself in. In fact, it's far from the first time you've been like this with another client. But here, as you're sat on top of the Fatui Harbinger, and red x-pupils search yours, a foreign feeling passes through you. Placing your finger on it, you dubiously think it's bashfulness, but the heartbeat that sings in your ears and pulses underneath your fingertips tells you otherwise, tells you it's something more. Against that, you remove your grasp on their shoulders and place your palm flat against the couch’s surface behind the Knave.

You squirm a bit, nervousness in your form as you remain as still as you possibly can, waiting for any more instructions. All you need to do is act like an obedient doll for them in order to survive; compliance is the best way of ensuring survival with people like these. You feel like you're merely eye candy from the way that their attention flits across your body, but you're immobile throughout the entirety of their observance. Being looked at is much better than any physical interaction. Their hands still cup your hips, but slowly, they descend to the side of your thighs, making your skin feel tingly.

Impulsively, you mumble out a quiet "Sir…" as strange sensations brush against your skin.

The sound surprises you and you feel on edge as their eyes travel from your lower half to your face. You gulp considerably. From their stare, they expect more of a response, a reason for their addressment, but even you don’t know yourself; it seems like an unconscious calling that just rolled off your tongue. You cow underneath their gaze, even when the two of you are at eye level. When you linger in quietude, their hand releases one of your thighs and lifts to your face, supporting your chin while their thumb rests on your bottom lip, unfurling it just the slightest amount to implore an answer from your now parted lips. Gleaming scarlet pupils grip your regard sternly, piercing into you and instilling you to spew something out. Except, you still can’t, now too entranced and lost in the crimson.

“Doll.”

Despite the pet name, it's devoid of any affection or warmth. It's a word that drips of command, a reminder of your place: simply a toy that they can play with however they want, a manipulated and decorated plaything for their amusement. That means you answer to them, and so when they request a response, you're under the obligation to please them. Your survival is in their palms anyway, if they wanted you to dance, you would just so they wouldn’t strangle the life out of you.

However, its implication doesn’t prevent the tingling shudders that wrack your body nor the involuntary clenching of your thighs around theirs. Was it the gravelly voice that aroused your behavior? Your cheeks flare at the knowledge that Harbinger sensed the physical reaction. It shouldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible, your thoughts repeat, but then they're interrupted by:

"Oh?" Arlecchino inquires to themselves, a stark amusement in their speech. Their red glare illuminates slightly, replacing the lost darkening with a faint glow in their pupils, and the corner of their mouth curls up. It is only then that you discover something entirely new: that monsters can be sinfully, cataclysmically, terrifyingly beautiful and the sight before you is the most exquisite example. A devil has you wrapped in its claws and its fangs readied for devouring but it’s disguised as an ethereal angel; blinded by their perilous allure, you mistake their snow-white hair, their lustrous piercing rubies, their flawless porcelain skin, and their burning, fleeting touches as traits of a seraph. From a measly smirk, you forget the atrocities lying underneath their fingertips and dismiss the hazard their presence holds.

The hand on your thigh rakes its fingers up, red nails trailing across the surface of your fishnet, wrenching out a breathy gasp from you as they travel inwards. Tingling pleasure injects into your veins as you subconsciously lean in, imploring for further sensual contact. A plea sits on your tongue and nests in your eyes as you beg them through your pitiful expression. They drink in your desperation with a slow swipe of their tongue over their lips, and that single action is debauched enough to elicit a soft groan from your throat.

“Well, aren’t you an amusing toy?” They drawl out with a preposing rasp and dark abysses glint with an insatiable hunger.

They smirk enticingly, their thumb running across your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick on their thumb pad. Their grip on your chin tightens a bit, pulling you even closer to them before a shadow casts over you when their face nears. Before you can even fathom their intentions, they descend upon you, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips are greeted with something pillowy soft and fervently warm, and you sharply inhale from the sensation. Every one of your nerves sings frenziedly, your muscles tense all over, and your heartbeat drums deafeningly in your ears–all of this as your body is engulfed in a fervid tornado of heat that makes you lightheaded with pleasure. It takes you several beats to realize the reason for this is that Lord Arlecchino, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave is kissing–no, kissing is far too intimate, devouring–you voraciously like they're trying to rob you of any air, trying to imprint themselves on your mouth. Their mouth dominates yours, pushing against them with a deep fervor and famished urgency, eager to swallow every bit of shocked noise you make.

You close your eyes and allow yourself to indulge.

You first taste lipstick with a waxy flavor hitting your tastebuds. It’s cold against your lips, yet warm at the same time. But the physical texture and flavor of their lips are irrelevant; there’s only one true manner you would distinguish their taste:

They taste like sin.

The type of sin that’s chocolate coated and sprinkled with colorful toppings; depravity so sweet and charming it makes you reconsider the bounds of right and wrong. Degeneracy is far, far tastier than anything you’ve indulged in before. How can something so evil be so heavenly? Cushiony soft, placidly warm, flatteringly zealous, it’s like having a dance with a devil; so unequivocally immoral but no less gratifying. You question if they really belong to the Fatui because how can something like this come from such? You want to engrave the texture of their mouth onto your memory, feel this faux intimacy even when you’ve long parted. The Fourth Harbinger, you surmise as you surrend your will to them, is decadent–the only word that can be defined as both wicked and delectable at once–the perfect word to describe them.

The last remaining bit of reasoning comes to the backdrop of your thoughts and begs you to not be swept away in the heavenly embrace. You discount it in favor of accepting this godsent gift by leaning further with a weak imitation of their ravishing lips and pressing back. It’s a feeble attempt to match their insatiate nature, far too domineering and forceful than you can manage but they display a token of appreciation when they squeeze your thigh, indenting your skin shallowly with the burrowing of their nails. The action exposes just how sensitive you’ve gone underneath their touch and you reward them with the sweetest of sounds.

“Arlecchino,” you mumble with half-lidded dazed eyes in between ravenous exchanges and it evokes a depraved throaty growl from the Fatui, like provoking a call from a starving beast. They lean deeper to indulge in your taste. The gruff sound reaches your ears and it’s like a psalm–you shudder from its musical melody.

Their clutch on your jaw releases and their fingers outline your jawline before snaking to the back of your head. Well-manicured digits entangle themselves in your hair, and there’s a gentle shove against your skull that forces you deeper into the kiss. Your hands clutch onto the couch underneath you as tight as you physically can for any sense of grounding and your knees attempt to close in even more to feel more of their body against yours. The hand on your leg, in turn, caresses the length of your thigh.

Every graceful touch, stroke, and brush exudes an unyielding and infectious warmth that only adds to the stoking fire in your gut, and you’re bathed in so much swelter from the ecstasy that you feel dizzy. Yet, you never want it to end, you grow more addicted and drunk with each encounter of their lips. That, paired with your strained breathing, prompts your stamina to falter much sooner than the Harbinger’s. You let out a soft whine to signal your depleting oxygen, and their mouth unlatch with yours, pulling away despite your ache for more. With the separation comes a small string of saliva attached between the two of you, evidence of the shared intimacy that’s snapped when they lick their lips. The hand behind your head detangles from your hair and you silently mourn over the loss of contact.

You heave for air, your chest rising and falling rapidly. You’re a little perturbed when you notice that they’re not even out of breath, a small but firm reminder that they’re as inhuman as humans can be. That knocks a sense of reality back into you. Customer, mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, it comes back to you like a train. Here you are swapping spit with them while in the lap of potentially the most dangerous criminal you could ever meet, but fuck were they a good kisser–you’ve never experienced anything that came close to this in your lifetime.

Any foolish doubtful contemplation of the morality of this interaction is swept away just like that when you hear:

“Greedy little thing that you are,” they regard with the most cunning and handsome of smiles, discrete amusement dripping from their words. Their dark pits behold you entirely, the same way they have always done when it seems like they were contemplating what part of you to savor the most. Only this time, you’re not so disturbed by the notion. If anything, the swirling heat in between your legs suggests the opposite.

Greedy wasn't a word often associated with you, yet you couldn't more correctly describe yourself in that moment. Greedy. Greedy for a Fatui Harbinger no less. As ashamed as you should be, there's no use denying that you crave for their touch, for their gaze, for anything and everything they're willing to give you. You want everything and more. The more you contemplate, the more it seems obvious why you wouldn’t. Are they a devil disguised as an angel, or are they an angel that fell from grace? Regardless, they bring nirvana to you. An incessant desire bubbles inside you, your throat swelling up with an urgent request on the tip of your tongue. Would they allow such a thing if you plead? Would they be offended by your impudence? Would they punish you for such? But the necessity outweighs any reconsideration of your insolence and the supplicant beg tumbles out of your loose lips.

“Can I… touch you please, my Lord?” You croak out, wincing at just how wretched it comes out. The response from them is not immediate as the two of you stew in silence, a building sense of dejection inside of you. The expression on their face noticeably contorts, smile lessening, their brows furrowing, and their red x’s glinting dimly. Their free hand raises to near your neck and you suck in a harsh breath as their fingers enclose around your throat. The mere action sends a stinging reminder to your lust-dazed thoughts about their position, and a chill pierces you.

Mafia, Fatui, Harbinger, the Fourth Harbinger, the Knave–the labels cycle through your thoughts. Though their grip is lax, not exactly suffocating and giving ample space to breathe, their fingertips does acutely jab into your skin, a display of their impressive grip strength. You have no doubt that they can suffocate you with one hand alone, snap your neck, or, as your mind ventures into more harrowing territories, crush your skull. Those thoughts alone has you breathless with anticipation. A heavy weight suddenly appears in your gut, so heavy that you feel like you can’t move so much as a muscle.

Did you just go too far? Was that too much to ask? Was this how you were going to die?

The reflex to gag and inhale combat each other in your throat, a discomforting sensation that crawls up your spine while you tremble. You’re almost certain that the nails have penetrated the layer of skin, drawing beads of blood that’ll trail down your mark. You whimper at the prickly pain. Yet, in all your unease, the most masochistic thought arrives briefly at the forefront, and you can’t help but consider: this position is just as intimate as all the other interactions. You’re already so vulnerable in their lap, does the hand around your neck change your peril in any way? No, you’ve been a defenseless lamb to a slaughter the moment you’ve stepped into the domain of a menacing wolf.

Ah. Even now, you can’t dismiss the warmth of their fingertips.

“Do you still want to touch me when I do this?” They demand callously, their voice harsh and reverberating through the room. Their grasp closes more around, and you feel your supply of oxygen inhibited. Tears begin to brim your eyes, but you’re undeterred. Unlike Arlecchino’s, your answer is instant and breathless. Your eyes intently lock on theirs, the hardened expression enough to satisfy their question. There’s no need for contemplation. Danger, you determine, is addicting.

“Yes.”

The previously small smile stretches across their lips considerably. Content, or dare you say it, thrill writes itself over their face and the boulder previously pressed against your shoulders is lifted. Your throat is freed from their hold, but their touch doesn’t halt there. Instead, they rotate your head for you to face to the left, exposing your side profile to them. From the corner of your eyes, you watch as their face draws closer to your skin, hot breath cascading across the small dents her nails created. The one on your thigh finally leaves, moving to one of your hips, tender strokes across your flushed surface. They lean forward, and moist, plush skin meets yours. Lips traverse over the length of your neck, teeth scraping against, making you weakly groan. It takes all of your will to still your body, only allowing for the Harbinger to do whatever they desire to your form. Their touches are burning, burning, burning–so hot that you wonder if you’re experiencing a heat wave. Peppered kisses follow the edge of your jawbone, all the way up to your earlobe. A wet kiss graces your ear and then the most sinful of statements dignifies your eardrums, like a devil whispering hymns directly into your ear.

“I think I’ll keep you to myself after this.”

A short hum follows afterward.

“If you want to touch me, you’ll have to work for it. You’re only mine for tonight, aren't you? Entertain me. Give me a private dance, doll. After all, you have me for all night.”

---

Link to M-Alexa's amazing art and how I imagine Arlecchino to look like in this oneshot.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #guys I'm so tired it's 2AM rn #i have school tomorrow guys #i chose to finish this tonight despite the shit ton of homework I have to do #arlecchino brain rot does that to you #def worth it #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin fics #arlecchino smut #edgeray.writes #edgeray.blog

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hypodermicfroggy · 3 months ago

Text

= PROJECT MOON LORE GUIDE =

(I've posted a guide like this on Steam, but I figure it couldn't hurt to put an updated version on Tumblr, too. Also, a warning: This post is going to be very, *very* long.)

Hello, current Project Moon fandom and future/want-to-be fans!

Do you enjoy Limbus Company but don't know how to get into the other games and media to appreciate the greater lore of the series? Do you not actually have the money, time, or patience to endure a brutally punishing (and sometimes even janky) roguelike management sim, deckbuilder, or gacha game because we live in a capitalistic hellworld like the one this very series criticizes? Struggle with getting access to supplementary materials due to controversies and language barriers?

(Pictured: PM Twitter and the Limbus Steam Forums, on any given day. Seriously, what is wrong with some of you people.)

And especially important: hate how Reddit and Steam are full of dudebro coomers who are openly hostile to F2P, non-day one players who might grapple with all the previous issues on top of being more invested in story than waifus?

Then read on under the cut!

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

This guide contains a comprehensive list of resources for you to be able to enjoy the Project Moon series to its fullest, including links to wikis, playlists, and more. Even if you can't play the games, I personally think those who can actually appreciate the series shouldn't be gatekept from the truly fantastic story and world that the games hold. Except Canto 6, we don't talk about Canto 6.

AND AN IMPORTANT REMINDER: THERE WILL BE SOME SPOILERS FOR CERTAIN PARTS OF THE SERIES, AND PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE YOU GET INTO ANYTHING HERE! This is a very dark series that tackles and shows very heavy topics and content!

For those who can't read the text on the image, some of the common trigger warnings for this series includes:

Animal Cruelty

Drug Use

References to Alcohol and Tobacco

Injury and Dismemberment

Homicide and Suicide

Violence and Torture

Cannibalism

Kidnapping, Abduction, and Captivity

Psychosis

Diseases, Seizure, and Dyspnoea (aka shortness of breath)

Familial Homicide and Domestic Violence

Reference to Clowns (Coulrophobia)

Themes of Occultism and Spiritualism

Audiovisual Depictions of Gore

Uses of Sharp and Pointed Objects

Hospital and Medical References

References to Gaslighting and Bullying

Body Modification and/or Deformation

Flashing Lights (Photosensitivity)

Disorientation Induced by a Shaking Camera

Strong Language and Demeaning Words

Reference to Traffic Accidents

Uses of Guns and Instruments of Violence

Discriminatory Violence

Religious Torture and Violence

Enforced Ideology and/or Actions

War and Mass Conflict

Anyway, if all that didn't scare you off, on to the guide!

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=WIKIS:

When in doubt, there's always the wikis for being references and useful sources, from gameplay to story elements!

>>Cogitopedia - A WIP wiki run by members of the community, working on adding in-depth content for all of the games and supplementary materials.

>>LobCorp Wiki - Has data on every abnormality, including inaccessible ones and cut ones (such as Price of Silence).

>>Library of Ruina Wiki - Has the lore from key pages, and also has cut content like the CGs from the original planned ending.

>>Limbus Wiki.gg - Has ID Uptie stories and info about Mirror Dungeon encounters. (DO NOT USE THE LIMBUS FANDOM WIKI, IT HAS BEEN ABANDONED/VANDALIZED.)

>>Library of Project Moon - A WIP fan blog whose purpose is to consolidate translations of the literary source novels and related works for Limbus Company and the PM games as a whole.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=LOBOTOMY CORPORATION:

Summary: Lobotomy Corporation is the first game in the series. It is a roguelike management sim where you play as "Manager X", tasked with handling employees and various monsters known as Abnormalities in order to generate daily quotas of a power source substance known as Enkephalin and a mysterious "Seed of Light" project. You are aided by an alleged team of AIs known as the Sephirot, and your very own personal assistant AI, Angela. It's often been likened to "anime SCP Foundation."

This is the game where everything begins, and without it, we wouldn't have the plot of Limbus (or anything else for that matter). This is where the Golden Boughs come from, this is where Abnormalities come from, this is even where Distortions come from - but we're getting ahead of ourselves on that front.

>>This playlist will allow you to watch all the cutscenes from the game, in order, for the canon ending.

>>This video also has the cutscenes, albeit not in order, HOWEVER, it does have the alternate, non-canon endings A and B (which are timestamped in the link for convenience).

youtube

>>WordsmithVids (also on YouTube) also has what is generally considered to be the most popular summary of the game.

youtube

(NOTE: Some people disagree with WordsmithVids and his interpretations of some of the characters as well as his content being "meme-y," so I advise you to watch at your own discretion and draw your own conclusions. That being said, if people have better recommendations, please send them to me instead of just complaining and bitching without offering solutions like that one guy on Steam did, thank you.)

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=WONDERLAB:

Summary: Wonderlab was a webcomic by the artist MIMI/Whitezombies, originally posted on the Project Moon Postype account. It follows the adventures of several employees - often called "nuggets" in fan parlance - Catt, Taii, and Rose, in a Lobotomy Corporation branch facility as they go about their day to day activities.

This webcomic was taken down after the Summer 2023 Incel Controversy, when incels stormed the Project Moon office in Korea and made enough credible threats that the former Limbus CG artist known as Vellmori was fired, and it is currently part of a second conflict over copyright. However, primarily for archival and personal reference purposes, the comic has been saved and rehosted in several forms.

>>Internet Archive version. This has just the comic in an on-site readable format.

>>A backup archive on Google Drive. This features the individual pages, a downloadable .zip of the archive, and a readable Google Docs version.

For those who may have ethical concerns about downloading a webcomic that was pulled due to controversy (understandable), once again, >>WordsmithVids has a summary.

youtube

(NOTE: This is NOT the place to discuss either the Summer 2023 incel controversy *or* the current (Summer 2024) copyright conflict. There are far better places to do that with people who are far better informed on the topic than I am. This post is solely for providing references and archives of lore material to help guide people into this series. DO NOT attempt to bring up the controversies here, I will not be acknowledging them outside of mentioning why certain supplementary materials may have been pulled and have had to be mirrored. I am just an archivist, not a lawyer or discourser.)

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=LIBRARY OF RUINA:

Summary: Library of Ruina takes place some months after the events of Lobotomy Corporation. A "Grade 9 Fixer" known as Roland finds his way into the mysterious, tower-like Library that has sprung up in place of the former main facility of L Corp, where he encounters Angela and the other Sephirot (all now Librarians). He begins assisting her in finding "the perfect book", which involves enticing people to come to the library through the sending out of curious invitations.

Now, unfortunately, there is not a playlist that splits up the cutscenes or puts them in order for Ruina.

>>These two videos have them all in compilation.

youtube

HOWEVER. A wonderful and dear friend of mine (@citroncynique <3) has allowed the guide they sent me to be reproduced/copied.

>>As such, there is a guide on how to watch the cutscenes in the order that makes the most sense, utilizing the timestamps of the previous two videos. It is not a perfect system, but it works at least.

>>WordsmithVids also has at least two summary vids out.

youtube

However, due to financial issues at last update, he has not been able to continue his summary of Ruina. I am including them regardless. >>As well as his Patreon in case people want to support him in hopes of making it easier for him to work on the vids again.

>>There is also an almost FOUR HOUR LONG video essay that delves into Angela's character specifically after the events of LobCorp and Ruina. It is not required viewing like the rest of the materials here, however, I think it still deserves a mention just for the amount of effort and care that went into it.

youtube

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=DISTORTION DETECTIVE:

Summary: Taking place at roughly the same time as Library of Ruina, two Fixers known as Ezra and Moses and an N Corp. Taboo Hunter known as Vespa investigate the Distortion Phenomenon that is rapidly starting to spread across the City after the events of the previous games.

Originally released as a webnovel on Project Moon's Postype, Distortion Detective has 42 chapters and is technically incomplete/on hiatus. Project Moon, surprised at how popular the webnovel was, decided they wanted to potentially make an entire game based on the story. As of this writing, that has not happened (yet) but at least one character from the novel has appeared in Limbus Company, so there is still hope yet.

>>The DD series in its original form on Postype. This version was posted chapter-by-chapter, on Project Moon's Postype account and is (as of this writing, at least) still readable there.

>>A backup archive on Google Drive. This has the entire webnovel in a single document format (both Docs and downloadable PDF) featuring NishikujiC's official chapter illustrations up to Ch. 26, and includes the now-cut comic adaption of Ch. 19 by the artist Monggeu/koug99.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=LEVIATHAN:

(Lord, this one. Like it wasn't a big enough pain in the ass already.)

Summary: After the events of Library of Ruina, and operating as a direct prequel to Limbus Company, Leviathan follows the Color Fixer Vergilius (aka the Red Gaze) as he grapples with his own personal traumas and comes into conflict with the Ring Syndicate, before being recruited as a guide for the LCB.

Leviathan originally started as a webcomic by Monggeu/koug99. Health issues with the artist resulted in the comic being discontinued and turned into a webnovel, whose translation was never completed and had to later be finished by fans. The comic portion has since been taken down as of the Summer 2024 copyright conflict and controversy, much like Wonderlab was. Once again, however, this has been mirrored for archival and reference purposes.

>>Original source of Leviathan on Postype. Due to the copyright conflict and the translation hiatus, the only chapters available are Ch. 12-15. The link is still included for posterity reasons and just in case the copyright conflict results in the chapters being restored.

>>A backup archive on Google Drive. This link includes the comic chapters, as well as the SnakeskinFS English fan translations for the last five chapters that were never completed, all in PDF form.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=LIMBUS COMPANY:

Summary: After all the events of the previous games, a mysterious up and coming business known as Limbus Company has taken it upon themselves to send a group composed of 12 "Sinners" and their mysterious clock-headed Manager Dante to delve into the now-abandoned L Corp facilities in search of mysterious artifacts known as Golden Boughs.

Finally we come to the end of the shrubbery maze. Limbus Company is the latest chapter in the currently unfolding story of Project Moon and the City, a gacha game being used to fund other projects under the company umbrella.

Many people, once again, have ethical concerns about patronizing a gacha game. I for one agree with them, even as one of those patrons.

>>This playlist features all of the cutscenes for each part of the game story released so far (up to Intervallo 6.5-2/Murder on the WARP Express as of this writing).

>>There is also this site, which operates as a pure datamined text archive of all the story content.

>>And this site, which has all the in-game Observation logs as told by the Sinners, about the Abnormalities and enemies encountered in-game.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=BONUS/SUPPLEMENTARY:

This section, liable to be updated at any given time, is for links to materials or fan-creations that don't necessarily fit with the strictly canonical story materials found in the games and webnovels themselves but which otherwise provide useful resources or analysis. Note that the vast majority of material here is supplementary and not required, but recommended.

(Except the literary sources. You will read those, and that is a threat. I can't take another Wings-forsaken illiterate opinion on Canto 6, I'm going to start Distorting and biting people if YOU PEOPLE DON'T READ THE DAMN SOURCE NOVELS.)

YouTubers and Video Essayists:

Frey Chaqma - Frey has done lots of work for the PM community, such as spearheading the Absolute Pride Resonance charity event for Pride Month 2024 as well as discussing the lore of the games and the City as a whole.

Tsunul - Another YouTuber who discusses lore but who also often delves into more interpersonal matters relating to the fandom and controversies that can affect the game community as a whole.

Esgoo - Although Esgoo does not necessarily get into lore so much, they are often tauted as one of the biggest names in the fandom for, if nothing else, their meta-analysis and basic gameplay/strategy material, as well as their community involvement.

hydrojoy's essay on Benjamin - in addition to Angela, hydrojoy also did an in-depth analysis on Benjamin, aka B, aka Hokma, from Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina and their impact on the story.

MetiNotTheBadGuy's PM Character Essays - Meti has done several excellent character breakdown videos on some of PM's most notable villains/characters, including Roland, Kromer, and Dongrang.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

=ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

Citroncynique. For being a truly amazing artist, putting in the effort of making a watch guide for Ruina's cutscenes, and getting me into this series and ruining my life forever by jingling a bugman with PTSD in front of me (<3).

MIMI/Whitezombies, Monggeu/koug99, NishikujiC, and Vellmori. Although several of these artists have left PM and the community on bad terms, I still think their efforts should be appreciated and supported, now more than ever.

SnakeskinFS. For finishing Leviathan's English translation.

Folex, Bek, WordsmithVids, hydrojoy, and the Lobotomy Corporation Archive. For posting their cutscene and summary/analysis videos.

NeedsMoreDoge. The Steam user who provided the original guide and backup on how to read Leviathan that I myself utilized.

The less than pleasant members of the community who spurred me into making this guide in the first place, out of pure spite.

And of course, readers like you and those members of the community who make me so happy to be here and be a part of this fandom. Genuinely, thank you all, I have never felt as welcomed as I do in the Project Moon circles I run in.

In addition to the references included here, I recommend you get involved in your PM community as well! Join communities and Discords, support content creators on social sites, help contribute where it's needed and in whatever way you can! The best way to counteract the worst elements of any fandom is to be a guiding and helpful element in your own right.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope this guide helps you out!

#Project Moon #Lobotomy Corporation #Lob Corp #LobCorp #Library of Ruina #Limbus Company #lore guide #references #reference guide #croak.txt #ONCE AGAIN IF YOU HAVE RECOMMENDATIONS: PLEASE LET ME KNOW #the ones listed are the ones that I simply could personally verify #especially do this if you can recommend YouTubers #as I do not really consume YouTube content and I already had one person yell at me for it

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akanemnon · 1 month ago

Note

HAAAAAAAY AKANE :3

How are you?? (Gosh, more ppl should ask you that, you're a human afterall)

On the 1st is my bday :3

BUT

I got a silly gift for you :3

You're even invited to my bday

You'll get a piece of (digital TwT) cake :3

And a special message.

I don't care if you won't see that post.

I just want you to know :3

PLUS GENUINE ASK (actually asking smt this time ha)

Would you rather:

Have no more chocolate for the rest of your life.

Spoil the entirety of Twin Runes/ The Other Script.

Chose wisely.

Okay and another question bcz you're good at writing (I guess, I mean you make some VERY GOOD comics)

How do you think I should traumatize someone that got possessed by someone that wants to kill her friends and bf? (I need a bit of ideas and I'm in need of an expert in writing)

Sorry, I can't be serious for five seconds.

In my defense your honor, I'm a silly goose. 🪿

Btw what's your opinion on Murder Drones?

I saw it two weeks ago and it got me hooked.

If you didn't watch it, I'm recommending it!!! :3

Sorry for the long ask.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

As for your question(s) 1) I'm actually not the biggest fan of chocolate (I prefer savory over sweet flavors). I still like it, but I'm not crazy about it. So I gottta go with no chocolate for the rest of my life. Sorry for everyone who wanted to be spoiled lol.

2) When it comes to writing drama and trauma, it's always a save bet to go for something that is a character's sore spot. Something that is already a part of the character itself. People always say I'm traumatizing these characters, though what I use for the story are plot and character details that were already established in some way in the games theselves (or through some other means). I'm not conjuring anything up out of thin air. As an example:

For Frisk I used their past attempted No Mercy Run (which is something you just can do in the game)

For Ralsei I used his fear of the Roaring and his need of the Player (as seen at the end of Chapter 2 and how he tries to guide the Player through Kris)

For Susie I used her past bullying antics against Kris (as seen in Noelle's blog post)

And well Chara... Chara is kind of self-explainatory at this point.

Kris' sore spot(s) are tackled ALL throughout the comic itself (the fear of being replaced, the fear of inadequacy, the fear of losing control...) It all ties into their relationship with the Player that you can already gather from the two Chapters we have.

3) I have not watched Murder Drones. Never really had the time for it.

#ask #ask akane #queued post

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moodymisty · 2 months ago

Note

Heya Misty! Your blog has cheered me up so many times since I found it last year. Genuinely, thank you for everything you share with us. Its always a ton of fun here! If I'm not too late for requests, could I request some pred/prey smut with Leman? Wolfdaddy can always use more love :) and I hope the future has nothing but blessings in store for you xx

Author's note: BARK BARK

Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Predator/Prey play, Oral (female receiving), Very light breeding kink

The tree branches scratch at your skin through your clothes, boots trampling through the deep snow. It's up to your mid calves- considered a light amount of snow on Fenris. You can feel your own hot breath fan across your face as you run through it, stumbling through the woods with no sense of direction.

Russ had given you a few hour head start, with the implication that you wouldn't even last till nightfall. You hadn't disagreed with him, though there was a sudden blossoming of pride in you that wanted to prove him wrong.

But the sun is starting to set, the sky is turning purple and orange; That sense of pride is now replaced with fear, you have a feeling he's toying with you.

You keep hearing leaves rustling and branches breaking without a trace of why, but always from a particular direction.

You know he's toying with you.

For just a moment you dare to try to stop and catch your breath, feeling your heart beat against your ribs. Your body feels hot in your clothes despite the temperature, though taking them off would be suicide in this icy chill.

A terrifyingly loud crunch has you taking your hands off your knees and putting your head on a swivel like a rabbit, taking off again through the thick snow trying to make any sort of distance- before realizing that it isn't an option.

Through the last few trees you can see the edge of the cliff, dropping down hundreds of feet into nothingness. Your throat burns in pain, each heavy breath is like knives against it's dry flesh as you stare into the abyss.

Russ herded you here- he's trying to trap you and succeeding.

"I can smell you, little wolf."

The deep rumble of his voice echoes through the trees, and you don't bother to look around before running. The snot in your nose is frozen and you can feel snowflakes against your skin, the cloth of your clothing dragging in the snow.

"You want to get bred. Once I catch you, I will."

There's absolutely nowhere to hide out here- The only foliage is the trees and even if you had the strength to climb them, you would only trap yourself for him. The instinctual want to get higher is a thing you have to fight within yourself to keep moving.

Not that he would complain if you trapped yourself; You're sure he's being lackadaisical on purpose to draw this out, to try and simulate a hunt that would actually require some effort.

"You make such good prey,"

Russ' revert back to baser, wolf taught instincts has him overjoyed at the struggling of what to him is a small animal, one who's heart is about ready to explode.

"I wonder if you could ever last the night out here."

You suddenly stumble over in the snow, the cold ice stinging your palms like needles. Through the cloud of your own breath you try and get to your feet and keep moving along the edge of the cliff to somewhere else- anywhere else, but you end up just stumbling over again as your body begins to give in.

You feel the ground rumble beneath your hands and knees and instantly your heart begins to race, the prey instinct of being injured and exposed.

"I can smell you're bleeding,"

He says, emerging from between the trees. You quickly try and scamper to your feet, only to fall right over again into the snow. A scream catches in your throat as the thought of fleeing overtakes you.

Russ however simply laughs at the struggling of his prey and quickly moves in to snatch you up, tying you wrists together as you try to escape from him.

"Let us get this bounty back to the Great Hall then, shall we."

You scream as he throws you over his shoulder, gripping you by the thigh and trudging through the snow leagues easier than you could.

There's no motion you could possibly make to free yourself from him now, and your heart finally begins to slow down once your mind catches up with the fact that this play hunt is over.

It's terrifying how a change in context can turn him into an absolute horror; And you know he's only playing.

Despite it being so easy however Russ seemed to very well enjoy it, bursting back into the blooming warmth of the Great Hall boots thundering on the ground. He tracks in snow from his boots, it crumbling to dust all over the floor and making a mess of the rugs.

"Ahh, father!"

One of the wolves guarding the hall speaks up with a pep in his voice and a warm flush to his cheeks from the chill outside.

"You finally got your prize I see!"

Embarrassment blooms on your face in a sudden explosion when you realize that Russ apparently not only told his sons about this little game, but more likely bragged about what his prize was going to be.

Russ lets out a chuckle from deep within his chest you feel vibrate in your gut, nodding at his astartes.

"Tell Bjorn he's in charge until the morn, I won't be interrupted unless it is urgent."

The wolf nods back, and watches Russ leave in the direction of his bedchambers. You are able to watch the wolf as he departs, giving you a keen look before leaving himself to presumably tell Bjorn of his temporary duties.

The entire time Russ has quite the firm hold on your thighs and ass, taking the fruit of his hunt right to his den. Once he gets there you're thrown onto the massive bed covered in pelts with little fanfare, hands still tied.

For a moment, the way Russ looks down on you is with that same predatory stare you saw out in the woods, and your heart begins to pick up pace as he approaches and hefts his weight onto the bed.

"You're taking this far more seriously than I-!" He suddenly pushes you around on the massive bed, wrapping the fabric around your wrists to connect you to part of the headboard. "Than I expected!"

Russ gives you a large, fang filled smirk.

"What, do I seem the type to half ass things?"

He doesn't quite care about your response, only about the way you squeak when he grabs hold of your clothes and rips them off of you bit by bit, the fabric scattered about. The snow you had also tracked in on your clothes dusts around the bed, some of it getting on your bare skin and making a shiver run up your body.

Your breath comes out of your throat shaking and ragged as he presses his face to your lower stomach, laughing as he grips your thighs. You can feel him intake a good breath of air as his beard digs into your skin.

"You smell even better than usual- should do this more often."

You don't know how you feel about that; You're so tired from all the running that your muscles are screaming in pain; You don't think you have the strength to do much more than lie here and simply let him have his way with you. Not that he will complain about enjoying his prize in such a way.

His mouth drifts lower, large hands pushing your thighs apart and back. You let out a soft noise in your throat.

He then presses his face between your thighs, mouth covering your cunt. He listens to the way you suddenly squeal and kick your legs, hands still locked above your head. You writhe underneath him with no way to even grab something to ground yourself, your whines echoing in the massive, high ceiling room.

The course, rough hair of his beard scratches against the skin of your thighs and outer lips, surely leaving you with hot, scuffed skin that will burn for days after. Russ finds it amusing, and will sometimes after he's done and sees the raw flesh will lick and kiss at it- listening to you try and whimper at him to stop.

You feel the deep groan he lets out rumble against your core, tongue brushing over your clit. Your thighs are tight trying to close around his head but he doesn't let them, pressing them back and far apart. He closes his lips around your clit and sucks listening to you squeal and writhe underneath him, before pulling away and laughing at the way your hips try to follow.

He drags his jaw against your leg scratching the soft skin with his beard. He can't resist giving it a quick bite also, leaving dents in the soft fat at the apex of your inner thigh.

He returns his mouth to your cunt and continues, feeling his sharp fangs occasionally catch at your skin. He may never be the most coordinated, but he makes up for it with an enthusiasm that has tears in the corners of your eyes; Spit mixing with the juices that leak from you neverending.

"R-Russ,"

Your stomach tenses almost painfully as he continues to lap at you, one hand leaving it's grip on your thighs to slip a finger past your entrance. You gasp and tighten around him, feeling the way his thick digit slips deep inside of you. It feels like he's trying to push up through your lower stomach with how deep his is, brushing deep towards your cervix.

Your one thigh pressing against his head now free, he slips a second finger inside of you and listens to you keen and writhe at the stretch. He chuckles, tongue dancing over your folds and overwhelming you until your stomach feels like it hurts so much it's going to explode; Clit throbbing underneath his tongue.

Your throat is raw from running for so long in the cold but this only makes it worse, letting out a ragged, shaking dry moan as you body goes limp and you cum on his fingers.

He continues for just a bit longer feeling the way you whimper at the overstimulation, milking every last bit out of you until there's nothing left.

Left panting and totally limp you feel his fingers leave your cunt, grimacing at the way they stretch you wider as they pull out. His mouth leaves and he wipes your juices, though it mostly smears them over his beard then actually cleaning himself.

Out of breath and limp you look up at him with wide eyes, watching as he starts to undress himself.

"Can you untie me first?"

You plead to him, watching as he undoes the top half of his clothes. You see his lower stomach, the trail of hair that leads down below his waistline and beneath his trousers.

"No. I quite like when my prey is tied up."

#leman russ x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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yamujiburo · 10 months ago

Note

Some of this might sound intentionally hostile in text and I apologize.

I'm saying this as an abuse survivor mind you - don't throw "abusive ships" under the bus so easily - at least, so long as they're not actually glamorizing the abuse. I lived that irl and I personally find someone overcoming it, slowly having enough of that bullshit and getting out over time, and the other person having to wipe their own butt for once after they've made the damn mess, very refreshing. Maybe that's not a ship in the traditional sense. It's no happily ever after bc it shouldn't be, but I find stories like mine shyed away from so often because even the portrayal gets considered a "canon ship". ... that's just how media works now, I guess? I very rarely See a fictional relationship not called a ship in literally any context now so that's the definition I'm running on.

I wish more people were willing to portray the hardships of finding acceptance outside of "whoever you can find will accept you" very much, and finding the better things after. I wish people weren't terrified out of portrayimg situations like mine.

Jessie.. is not a good person in canon. You expect me to believe she moved into to hanamusa seamlessly, without falling on her ass? I never see you talk about Jessie's abusive tendencies in canon. You never talk about the inherent meanness she needed to get over to get there. She's quite aml lot like my ex in canon, actually.

What do you mean you're going to just remove from the character that she is abusive to those around her. Jessie hits people. She takes her own junk out on others all the time. Do you even like the character then, are you actually invested in her growing, or are you just making an OC at this point?

Idk. Do you, boo. But you are posting about a character who, whether you like it or not, is canonically abusive. I just don't buy that dating Ash's mom alone fixed her. That isn't... How that works. It would be excellent if it did. Part of my love of hanamusa is that it signals Jessie's change - but she could have changed for anyone before now.

What makes Delia different? How is she specifically a turning point for Jessie? Because Jessie's flaws go well beyond just bossing people around.

I would love if my abuser had the same outcome as your Jessie. I adore your portayals of hanamusa, where she's still flawed but still strives to do better. That's all I ever wanted from my ex.

What the fuck got her there tho.

Anyways I've been watching a lot of Bojack Horseman lately -

I agree with you! I don't think abusive relationships (or any tough subject matter in general) should be shied away from in media. It can be powerful when executed well and written by folks who are equipped to tell those kinds of stories. I do think it's sad when people treat it as off limits. But the ask I got was definitely more about which ships I have where I actually like the relationship between the characters. I think the semantics of the word "ship" are kind of vague or rather, over time, got so specific to only mean "absolutely love together and want them as endgame" (for most people anyways). So that's usually what I take the word to mean when people ask me about it.

I can 100% appreciate how an abusive relationship is written and handled, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna ship an abuser with their victim (that falls into the glorifying you're talking about). Love Bojack Horseman! Big fan! I think the way they handled Bojack and Sarah Lynn was beautifully and tragically well written. But does that mean I ship Bojack and Sarah Lynn? Absolutely fucking not.

I've talked about Jessie's character plenty on this blog and the way she's handled in earlier seasons specifically. This is kind of a summary: If we look at it on surface level, yes we can say she was abusive. But I think it's important to acknowledge and take into account the medium, time period and culture. Slapstick and cartoon violence was HUGE in anime and animation in the 90s (and prior to that too). Characters were always cartoonishly slapping each other around with giant mallets, folding fans, etc. Looney Tunes style. These slapstick bits were always distinct from real abuse and hurt (for Pokémon, Jessiebelle comes to mind). Mean slapstick wasn't a character trait exclusive to Jessie either. We saw it in Misty, James, Meowth, characters of the day and pretty much any character who got mad. It was a visual shortcut to show anger.

This type of slapstick has since (thankfully) died out and it hasn't really been a part of the Pokémon franchise since the early 2000s. However, Jessie was a notably special case. One of my favorite fun facts about the Pokémon anime is that there was a point in the series where Megumi Hayashibara (Jessie/Musashi's seiyuu) told the writers that moving forward, she no longer wanted Jessie to be violent or to be shown hitting James or Meowth (source: her memoir "The Characters Taught Me Everything"). She thought it directly went against the vision Takeshi Shudo had for Jessie, James and Meowth, when he created them, which was that they are good natured villains. If you watch from DP and on, Jessie never lays a hand on either of them. I think it was a such a good move on Pokémon's part to change her character like that and I'm forever grateful that Hayashibara said something! Whenever I write Jessie now, I always keep that in mind. She's mean, shouty and stupid but would never genuinely hurt those she cares about.

From then, her character becomes much more bearable. She's still bossy, mean and vain (typical cartoon villainess attributes) but I'd hesitate to say abusive. She'll still yell at James and Meowth, they all yell at each other, but in more of a sibling way (imo) rather than a "i'm actively trying to hurt your feelings way". The show makes a point especially in later seasons to show that Jessie, James and Meowth are not beyond being redeemed. From conception the whole POINT of the Team Rocket trio was that they are redeemable but their persistence and obsession keeps getting in the way of them seeing that there's a better life for them out there.

I won't deny that Jessie was unsavory in earlier seasons, but when I write her, I choose to write the version that Takeshi Shudo and Megumi Hayashibara had envisioned from the get go. She's still incredibly flawed and makes plenty missteps but wants to be better as you stated! My favorite part about Jessie is that she's a piece of shit LOL and I enjoy writing the changes she goes through to be better (but then still showing her default so some of her evil tendencies). In this AU, Delia doesn't fix Jessie. Jessie fixes Jessie because she is with someone makes her want to be a better person. She's already in the middle of turning over a new leaf before even meeting Delia, after leaving Team Rocket. Writing Jessie as legitimately abusive I think could work, but that's not my story to tell and if someone who were more equipped to tell that story did, I'd be very interested to take a listen!

I hope this doesn't come off as trying to deny or invalidate your experience. If you see that in Jessie, I hear you! This is just how I've interpreted her character over the years, having watched every episode of Pokémon and reading Japanese interviews from the cast and crew. She's such a compelling character and I love how messy she is

#ask yam #long post #tw abuse

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