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loaksky · 1 year ago

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— 𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏 & 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

emt!abby x fem!reader, smut (mdni or i scream) / fluff / established relationship, wc: 3k

synopsis: you didn’t think you’d get away with baiting abby before dinner, did you?

content warnings: language, strap-on sex (reader!receiving), fingering (reader!receiving), oral (reader!receiving), abby has a filthy mouth & reader’s a tease, brief mentions of a breeding kink brrrr, basically pwp but like also maybe a lil ? idk, i’m still new to tagging 18 + content AH.

author’s notes: i’m back!! and with smutty continuation of this oneshot! the abby brainrot is very real, i fear, so i couldn’t help but expand. there’s a lil surprise at the end hehehe. also! pls feel free to chat with me thru my ask box! <3

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Abby’s patience is admittedly wearing thin.

She’d managed to keep it together during the car ride to the restaurant, kept her cool while ordering through lingering touches and hooded gazes. Hell, she’d somehow breathed through a coy hand resting against her thigh, sneaky pinky nestling in the seam of her taut trousers while Nora and mutual friends chatted about their recent endeavors.

“You’re cutting it close,” Abby whispers a warning to you after you’d brushed something from the plump of her bottom lip and dragged.

You popped the pad of your thumb past your glossed lips and Abby had to swallow hard before she choked on her bite.

The smile you give her is sly, makes her rub her thighs together as your shoulders roll back and your chest pushes forward. She’d been too preoccupied with ordering, with downing water after water because, christ, it was hot in here, to notice that maybe she was the only one burning up.

Gooseflesh ripples over your arms and your nipples are pebbled against the satin of your dress. She could nearly drool, thinking about all the things she’d love to do to you in and out of that flimsy little gown.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Your lips nearly brush the shell as Abby spears a cut of dessert and bites hard to maintain her facade. She hums.

“M’not wearing anything underneath,” you divulge, eyes twinkling when Abby leans back in her seat and watches you with her jaw set.

“And what would you like me to do with that information, angel?” Abby bites, playing into your game easily.

“Whatever you wanna,” you reply softly, gaze far too dreamy for Abby’s sanity. “I’ll be good.”

And then you have the audacity to smile at her like you haven’t lit a fire in the pit of her belly. Like you aren’t tempting her to clear every available surface and bend you over the table. She’d been doing so well, had made it through every course. But now, as everyone socializes and finishes Nora’s birthday cake, she feels her resolve crumbling.

“You guys are so cute,” one of Abby’s friends coos, absolutely oblivious to the little cat and mouse game you’ve started before the two of you even walked into the restaurant.

Abby laughs humorlessly behind a sip of her drink while you preen under the attention.

And she should’ve known better than to relax once you’d leaned back in your seat, wine glass wrapped in your slender fingers. The both of you are equally floored, but for vastly different reasons, when your hand slinks under the table top to grab right under the buckle of Abby’s belt.

Abby hadn’t expected you to be so blatant and you definitely hadn’t felt that when you straddled her earlier in the evening before the two of you left for dinner.

The ball’s in her court, she realizes, when she clocks the way you shift in your seat, arousal pooling between your thighs, no doubt. Your eyes are glazing over and your lips part.

“Everything alright, love?” Abby asks, feigning concern as her head tilts to the side.

She watches the way you rub your legs together involuntarily and she has to suppress the wicked grin that threatens to split her golden features.

You don’t answer and some of Abby’s friends who aren’t engrossed in conversation are watching from across the table in curiosity.

“Cat got your tongue?” she whispers into your small little bubble, teeming with sexual tension and ready to burst.

She sees the way your throat bobs, thinks to herself that she owes it to herself to mark you up after the shit you’d been pulling all night.

“My stomach hurts,” you say softly, and she knows exactly what you mean.

Knows that the ache isn’t from a bad appetizer or wine that just won’t seem to settle. No, you’re needy now. Worked yourself up so much trying to tease your girlfriend that your skin is dewy under the lowlight.

She glances at Nora who sits at the head of the table. Something gleams in her gaze and Abby knows that she knows. Hasn’t been able to shut up about you since the two of you made it official last fall.

“Might be time to get this one home,” Abby covers, merciful in front of friends because you’re not the only one desperate. “It’s a little past her bedtime.”

And typically, you’d be petulant, annoyed because even if you’re Abby’s girl, you’re not a child. But god, you can practically feel her inside despite clenching around nothing.

“Aww,” one friend frowns, you think her name is Mel. “It was nice getting everyone out for Nor’s birthday.”

Abby smiles, something genuine that only makes your toes curl because your girl is absolutely devastating, especially in a black button up that shows a dangerous amount of expanse and fitted black slacks that hug the most delicious part of her thighs.

“Definitely,” Abby agrees easily. “We have to grab lunch before you head back home, Nora.”

Nora winks and your cheeks warm because if there’s one person you can’t get anything by, it’s Abby’s closest friend.

“Just shoot me a text.”

And you know that she’s just in her element, being surrounded by her friends and people she’s grown up with, but as she makes her rounds and says her goodbyes, you can’t help the desire that bubbles.

What started as a slow simmer, something you could tamp down during the journey here and throughout dinner, was now a raging boil that warmed your veins from the inside out.

It’s why the two of you barely make it to the car before Abby’s hand is up your dress and her fingers are circling the heat of your slick slit.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet,” she whispers breathlessly, leaning over the center console to slot her lips with yours.

“Been wet,” you admit against her mouth, throwing your head back against the headrest when the tips of her fingers push past your entrance.

She breathes a laugh when you let out a cracked moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“Yeah?” she taunts. “All it takes is a couple of fingers in your pussy to get you to behave?”

You’re watching her through hooded eyes, heels coming up to rest on the edge of the seat. And it’s such a dirty fucking sight, seeing the soft satin of your dress pooling around your hips as you spread your legs.

“More,” you beg, fingers wrapping around her wrist to hold her still. “Fuck, Abs, I need more.”

Abby’s brain nearly short circuits when you start rolling your hips, the heel of her palm bumping your sticky and swollen clit.

“Yeah, want more, angel?” she taunts. “Could’ve had this taken care of earlier if you just let me fuck you before we left. Now what, you’re all needy and wet.”

“S–ah, fuck!” you hiss when she adds a third finger and curls hard. “Please, please.”

“Yeah, you wanna cum, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, hips bucking desperately. Your cunt glistens under the fluorescents of the parking garage and Abby’s salivating as she watches you use her to get off.

“Want it, Bibi,” you whisper brokenly, that stupid fucking nickname rolling from your lips. “Wanna cum, please.”

She laughs breathlessly, boxers soaking through as she takes in the sight of you winding tight. She knows you’re gonna unravel soon, can feel it in the way the soft walls of your pussy flutters around her digits.

Then, like you’ve committed the most cardinal sin, she’s punishing you, withdrawing from your heat to slip her fingers past her lips to savor your arousal.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” she sighs, leaning back in her seat to slot the key into the ignition.

“Abby, please,” you cry out, clenching around the loss of her knuckles stretching you out.

“Gonna have to be patient and wait, pretty girl.”

Despite the AC on full blast, your balmy skin is sticky with sweat. Abby’s got you right where she wants you, naked and between her spread knees at the foot of her bed. The silk of the oversized scarf you’d used as a cover up earlier in the night binds your wrists together at the small of your back and Abby thinks you look so fucking lovely like this.

“You’re so pretty like this,” she murmurs, thumb reaching out to brush the plush of your bottom lip. The pad slips into your mouth and her eyes widen a fraction when you look up her through your lashes. “You’ve been such a fuckin’ brat all night, y’know that?”

The dainty gold chain around your neck glints as your chest heaves, ‘A’ pendant catching a sliver of the moonlight as Abby presses her thumb down your throat.

“M’sorry,” you whimper around her digit. “I’ll—”

You swallow when your eye catches the silicone of Abby’s strap. It’s a new addition, a pretty purple that she’d picked out with you in mind. It’s got an obscene amount of ridges and fuck it’s—

“So big,” you choke.

A lazy smile spreads across Abby’s face.

“It is, isn’t it?” she entertains you, fist closing around the shaft. “Saw it and thought of you. Thought of all the ways I’d stretch your tiny little cunt and fuck you stupid.”

You’re drooling now, tears pooling the corner of your eyes and smudging your eye makeup.

“Want it bad, Abby, please.” Your hips roll over nothing and Abby’s licking her lips when she notices the little pool that glistens against the hardwood. “I’ll do anything, please, just— fuck, let me ride you, anything… I—”

“Think you deserve it?” she hums. “I was being generous earlier. Wanted to make you feel good, but you wanted to be a fucking tease. And for what? For you to soak through your dress and make a fucking mess on my floor.”

The moan you let out makes Abby’s breath hitch, almost makes her drop the act.

One more, she thinks to herself.

She pinches your cheeks between her fingers, forces you to come face to face with the lines of her cock.

“Spit,” she hisses.

And her eyes roll to the back of her head when you do, the string of saliva that connects your lips to her strap making her hips buck involuntarily.

In one movement, she’s yanking you to your feet and tossing you against the mattress. With your hands still bound, your cheek presses against the duvet, back arching and knees spreading to give her the perfect view of your ass and your pretty little slit.

“You get to have your fun after you cum around my cock,” Abby husks, large palms settling on the swell of your ass as the tip of her strap prods your entrance.

“Nnngh, Abby, fuck, pleasepleaseplease,” you keen. “All of it, please.”

And hearing you beg, hearing you so eager to be filled has Abby nearly feral. Has her pressing her length past the folds of your needy pussy and throwing her head back when you moan around the resistance.

“Jesus, fuck, you’re taking it so well,” she says shakily, sinking hilt deep.

“Please,” you sigh breathlessly. “Fuck me, Abby. I want you to use me and—”

Abby’s blowing out a forceful breath, can never get used to your filthy mouth. Her hips start rolling, finding a pace that has you moaning so loud she’s certain her neighbors can hear you doors down.

It doesn’t take much, just one of her hands snaking to your clit through her strokes to get you locking up and an incoherent mess.

When she pulls out, you collapse against the sheets, and she melts. Can’t be mean to her pretty girl for too long. She’s unfastening the silk around your wrists, hands smoothing over the swell of your hips to guide you onto your back.

You’re looking up at her with that fucked out look on your face.

“You can do another one, can’t you, angel?” she coos, doing an absolute one-eighty as she kneels between your thighs and licks a fat stripe up your slit to suck your clit past her lips. “You’re not gonna tap out on me after working me up all night, are you?”

And when you nod eagerly despite your body feeling so heavy, Abby’s heart swells. She’s kissing on your inner thighs, watching as your hole flutters deliciously.

“You said you’d be good,” she whispers, laving languidly at your your cunt. “So be a good girl and take it, hmm?”

“Anything, Abs, I’ll be good.”

She’s smiling a genuine smile, knows you’re a brat for the attention. And she can’t help herself, wants to give you anything and everything.

Her lips travel from your clit, presses gentle kisses up the soft flesh of your tummy, past your navel and between the valley of your breasts. She takes one nipple in her mouth and sucks hard as she tweaks the other one between the calloused pads of her fingers.

“You’re my good girl?” she whispers against your skin.

Your freed fingers tangle in her hair when she pops free from your nipple and bites hard on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. She’s been desperate to add fresh purple blooms to the yellowing ones, doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong ideas.

“Always,” you swallow, arching into her touch.

One of her hands slides up the sheets and tangles with yours, and you’d think the gesture is sweet as she continues her ministrations up your throat, but she’s sliding the blunt head of her strap between the puffy lips of your cunt. She catches the arousal that pools there before sinking in slowly.

Doesn’t matter how many times she fucks you, how many different ways she folds you and has her way, the fit is always snug like a glove and it itches a part of her brain desperate to be sated.

“Don’t know how lucky you are,” she hums in your ear as her hips roll slowly, making sure you feel every last inch of her cock slipping through your needy little pussy.

You’re panting, sweaty chest colliding with hers as she braces part of her weight on the arm tangled with yours and settles the rest against your spent body.

And having Abby like this, pressed to you and taking care of you, you agree. You’re so lucky. But then she mutters something new that has your toes curling.

“So lucky I can’t knock you up,” she says softly, biting on an especially deep stroke. “Because if I could, angel? I’d be breeding you like clockwork.”

Your chin juts upwards, exposing more of your neck to Abby as she picks up the pace. The broken sob that leaves you has a shiteating grin lazily spreading.

“You like the idea of that, huh?” she whispers. “I bet you’d be so fucking pretty all swollen. All mine.”

One hand slides between your bodies and presses down hard over the bulge of Abby’s strap. You’re clawing at her bicep as she leans up to get a good look at you.

“C’mon, pretty girl, one more,” she almost begs. “Gimme one more.”

And it’s a mixture of her words, the sweet drag of her cock along the warmth of your gummy walls, and the pinched expression on her face that sends you soaring over the edge. Her name leaves your lips like a prayer, body wound so fucking tight as your second orgasm rips through you mercilessly.

Abby’s smiling gently at you as you come down, body falling slack against the sheets as your chest heaves lungfuls of air. She’s still fully sheathed, smoothing your hair from your face as she peppers kisses along your cheeks and over your eyelids.

“You’re actually unbelievable,” she murmurs, arms wrapping around your waist as she settles back against the mound of pillows strewn at the head of the bed.

“Am I?” you ask breathlessly, ear pressing against her sweaty chest to hear the thrum of her heart.

“Extremely,” she affirms, catching your bottom lip between her teeth. “Love you, angel.”

“Are you gonna use your charger?” you call from your spot in Abby’s bed, wrapped in a new duvet and wearing one of her sweatshirts.

“Yeah, but I have another cord and charging block somewhere,” she responds from the adjoining bathroom, finishing her routine before she settles in.

You only hum in response, crawling over to her side of the bed to throw open the drawer to her side table. Your fingers blindly grasp at foreign objects in search for the telltale square of the charging block and the wrapped chord, but instead, it smoothes over something like velvet.

“Huh?” Your eyebrows twitch when you grab the object, unwedging it from where it’d been tucked into the very back of the drawer.

And you hadn’t known what to expect, but your eyes are as wide as saucers when you find a small little velveteen box. You don’t want to be presumptuous, don’t want to get your hopes up, but when you flip the lid and find the most beautiful green gem set in a thin gold band, you’re choking on the sudden wave of emotions.

“Did you find i—”

When your gaze swings to the doorway, Abby’s figure blurred by the tears pooling your eyes, she’s cussing.

“Wait, fuck.”

“Is this what I think it is?” you ask shakily.

And Abby’s usually so good at reading you, but she can’t tell what kind of tears are spilling and she’s absolutely frozen with fear because she’d been waiting for the right time to ask. But it seems like the universe has other plans as you hesitantly stand to your feet, the hem of her ‘I Love Seattle’ sweatshirt falling midthigh.

“Abby,” you grill.

“Depends on what your answer is,” she says weakly.

The silence that blankets the two of you is suffocating, has Abby feeling like her heart’s in her ass. But then you’re closing the distance, ring box still tight in your hold as you’re pushing up on your toes to throw your arms around her neck.

“Yes, Abby, what the fuck?” you hiccup.

And the relief that floods her system has her brushing the tears from under your eyes and winding tight around your frame.

“Way to ruin my surprise, asshole.”

You throw your head back with a watery laugh before pressing further into her chest.

neng ©️ 2023

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fic #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou

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qwimblenorrisstan · 6 months ago

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Just This Once | Cassian x Witch!Reader

Summary: After a witch has been discovered in Windhaven, Cassian has been sent to bring the creature back, and ‘domesticate’ her, according to Rhys. It proves a difficult task, but he soon discovers that you aren’t as ‘strong and independent’ as you seem.

Word Count: ~4.6k

Warnings: Mentions of death, blades, fighting, basically kidnapping, past trauma, light angst, but happy endings with snuggles.

A/N: got carried away with this bc it was originally just the fighting scene and I decided to flesh it out some…lmk if you want a part two, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

When Cassian had heard the news of disappearances in the Illyrian Steppes, he expected the usual, the ancient beasts that lurked in the woods getting a bit too bold or hungry. It didn’t happen often, but when powerful Illyrian males were gone without a trace, taken during the night with only the barest signs of a struggle…what the hell else could it be?

Or at least, that’s what he’d thought until he’d been summoned to Windhaven by Devlon, who seemed a bit too eager for him to arrive. That was the first sign that something was wrong. He and Devlon shared a very mutual hatred for each other, mixed with only a teaspoon of respect.

Everything began making more sense as he strode into the camp, or more accurately his entire theory on the beasts shattered to pieces as soon as he entered the center of the camp and saw you in the center.

“Your blood will pay for this,”

You hissed, iron nails on full display as you were held down by multiple males, most of which had deep claw marks on their skin, only clotting because of their immortal blood. As soon as his gaze locked with yours, he heard the snapping clang sound as your metal teeth slammed down, and bared at him.

He’d heard rumors, sure, old folktales and rumors of creatures like you, but in all his centuries of blood, gore, and horror, he had never actually come into contact with a witch, let alone one from the Ironteeth Clans. As much as he would love to believe he hadn’t seen a thing, that you were just some other random creature he could kill and be done with it, those nails, dripping with Illyrian blood, and your teeth, caked with it….

Mother above, he needed to tell Rhys about this. A witch, let alone an Ironteeth witch, in Illyria, killing men and devouring them under the cover of night. But for now, he needed to deal with this, a temporary solution…

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

You were pissed, but not surprised.

The males in this village were quite stupid, but even the dumbest of creatures would eventually notice that they were being picked off one by one. The worst part? They had played you like a fool, setting up one lonesome male as bait, and luring you in before trapping her.

You thrashed and hissed, clawing at the males who were stupid enough to loosen their grip on your wrists, and as soon as their skin was punctured they shoved you to the ground again. One of them finally had the wisdom to push you onto your stomach, their knee pushing down on your back to keep you down.

From your limited sight, you could see one particularly large male talking to who looked like the overseer of this camp, Devlon, the other males here had called him. They seemed to be in heated debate, before with a huff, the overseer reluctantly seemed to agree with something. He barked out orders to some of them, and the next thing you knew, they had restrained and grabbed you, dragging your writhing body somewhere, and then you were thrown into a pitch-black room, a door slamming behind you and twisting with what sounded like a locking mechanism.

You were immediately on your feet, feeling around for any sign of an escape route, your eyes easily adjusting to the darkness. It was a small cell of sorts, made of stone and sturdy, no matter how you pounded and banged against the walls, they showed no sign of relenting.

And so you were trapped, at the mercy of your prey.

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

“You’re telling me that there’s a witch in Windhaven that’s been eating the males?”

Rhys’ doubtful and exasperated tone didn’t surprise him. He knew his brother only had the best intentions, and being High Lord wasn’t exactly an easy job.

“Yes, I’m telling you, I saw her nails and - gods, she had iron teeth, Rhys! They put her in a cell to hold her for now, but what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Cassian said, his voice frenzied and just as confused as Devlon had seemed. What were they even supposed to do to a witch? The Illyrians would want it killed as a retribution for the males they lost, but then they could have an entire coven of angry, pissed-off witches looking for blood. Gods, this was a mess.

“Bring her here.”

Rhys then said, his tone cautiously neutral. He had his scheming face on, a plan already forming in that clever head of his.

“What?”

“Bring her here. We can put her on a watch, and keep her under our control. Then we’d have a bargaining chip if any other witches show up.”

“This is a bloodthirsty witch, Rhys, not a pawn in your political games. She might hurt someone, or-“

“Then domesticate her. I’ve no doubt you’re the person for it.”

He said with an infuriatingly dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes going back to the paperwork on his desk. Sometimes he wondered if Rhys was genius or stupid, and this was a very large gamble. With a huff, Cassian relented.

“Fine. Where are we going to keep her?”

He asked, an annoyed frown already forming on his face.

“The House.”

“You’re putting a witch in the House of Wind?”

“Yes. Get going, you have a witch to transport.”

He stared in disbelief for a moment as Rhys, shaking his head and muttering under his breath stormed out of the office, shutting the door behind him, bordering on slamming it. Outside, he was met with Azriel leaning against the wall by the door, clearly waiting his turn to go inside, and also eavesdropping.

“Seriously, Az, can you believe this? Give me some backup here-“

Azriel shook his head simply, going to walk into the office. He looked over Cassian once, then spoke.

“Good luck.”

He said, not even a hint of pity in his voice. The bastard. It was Cassian against the world today, apparently.

His mind already running to thoughts of how this witch would probably gut him in his sleep, if not while he was awake just to enjoy making him suffer, he walked outside and took off for Windhaven.

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

The world went from dark stone floors to dusty dirt ground before you could even realize it. They were dragging you again. At least they had the sense to tie you up, even if you could easily shred through them with your iron nails though you kept them retracted.

This time, you were dragged towards the male who’d been talking with Devlon. The males seemed to hate him, it was obvious in their scents, but they held a certain begrudging respect and even a hint of fear of him.

His eyes were a warm hazel, and he had a rugged handsome look about him, just enough stubble to not be too much, his hair shoulder length and dark, tied back. He had quite the muscular build as well, a few scars, and he reeked of annoyance as you were nearly thrown at him.

He grabbed you by the ties around your wrists, inspecting them and knowing that it wouldn’t stop a creature like you, born of darkness and inhuman strength.

“You are coming with me, and you are going to behave.”

His rough voice thundered out. The other males watched, some eager to see a fight break out between you and him. You laughed, a raspy, amused laugh.

“I will behave how I see fit.”

You replied your voice nearly a hiss. You were parched, your throat dry as a desert. Witches didn’t bow to the likes of anyone or anything, and she would not bow to this male. A Blackbeak bowed to no one, a statement carved into her very soul.

“Unless you want me to rip those pretty iron parts out, I’d suggest behaving well.”

He said, looking wholly unamused and unthreatened by you. A threat to a witch’s iron teeth and nails was something that couldn’t go unpunished. But now wasn’t the time, and she knew that despite the snarl that ripped through her throat.

The male forced her to walk beside him, and without warning, his wings flapped powerfully and he took off, cutting through the sky while adjusting her to be loosely held in his arms. An intimidation tactic, most likely, his loose grip a threat that he would drop her if she put up any fight.

It worked.

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

Cassian wasn’t sure what he’d expected from the witch once in the air, but she was putting up less fight than he’d expected.

The wind howled past his ears, creating that tunnel-like feel he was all too used to. His wings pounded against the wind, carrying the both of you to Night Court, where he was supposed to willingly let a witch live with him and Azriel. He still hated that, and he probably would forever.

You seemed oddly mesmerized by the wind, as if it also sang to your blood, urging you to go higher and higher like it always did with him, carrying him away in a flurry of instincts.

Well, at least you hadn’t tried to attack him. Yet.

Only minutes later, he was landing at the front of the House of Wind. He could see the surprise in your golden eyes, sharp and cunning, at the sheer height of the House. It wasn’t shocking, as it was up a 10,000-step staircase.

He jutted his chin in the direction of the House, walking inside.

“The House is sentient, it’ll give you everything you need, and nothing more.”

You seemed amused by that, huffing out a humorless laugh.

“A self-serving house, perfect for your soft-hearted race.”

Your voice said, raspy and mocking, an irritating smirk on your face, despite him having the upper hand. He growled at the insult, his wings flaring in irritation.

“Watch it, or I’ll show you just how soft-hearted we can be.”

He snapped, immediately regretting it as your smirk widened. You wanted a reaction, you were feeding off of them and he was supplying you with them.

“I’d love to see what an overgrown bat can do on the battlefield. Flap aggressively at the enemy? Terrifying, truly.”

You retorted, at which he turned to you and snarled again.

“You and I are going to have some problems, I can already tell. If you’re so eager to get your ass handed to you, then you can wake up bright and early, and we can work this out the traditional way.”

He snarled, and you looked utterly ecstatic at the possibility of fighting him that he regretted that offer too. He wasn’t too good with being threatening, especially when you seemed to love the concept of fighting, which was standard for a witch, he decided.

“Gladly. See you in the morning, bastard.”

You drawled, one handful of iron nails suddenly sliding out and scraping lightly over his leathers as you walked past him. The comment made him stiffen. How had you known he was a bastard? You could’ve overheard it in the camps, but still…

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

The House thrummed with an ancient power, a sentient one according to the big Illyrian brute.

Witches operated by many beliefs and rules, but one of the biggest beliefs was that males were useful for two things only, rutting and food. Which was why you didn’t care much for him, and certainly didn’t respect him whatsoever no matter who he was or why.

The House led her down one of the many hallways. You could smell someone else here, someone who reeked of shadows and darkness, but stayed hidden, only watching quietly. The shadows seemed to move unnaturally here. You snarled at them, feeling idiotic for growling at nothing, but your iron teeth came clamping down over the normal ones in an instant.

The feeling of being watched remained, despite that, so you only left those hallways and hurried to the room that the House provided her.

It was spacious and comfortable, with a bathroom attached. The floor was a recognizable wood pattern, the bed having the same silky sheets and burgundy blanket as the one you’d laid in so many years ago before everything had fallen apart and fractured into pieces. The room held pieces of your past that the House shouldn’t even be able to know about.

It creeped you out to no end, and as you’d expected, the bathroom was the same. Recognizable. Spot on to the home you’d once shared with that male so many years ago, that had been the beginning of the end for your happy life.

You searched the room for any weapons, only finding one old knife under her pillow, the knife you had been forced to leave behind.

And so you curled up in the bed, and closing your eyes, willing your body and mind to relax despite the suspicions and questions that haunted you, you fell asleep.

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

Cassian was starting to regret challenging you the other day.

You had shown up for breakfast, looking pissy about having to wear the Illyrian leathers, the only clothes in the room’s closet, instead of normal witch attire. The material squeezed you just right in all the best places, especially your thighs….it was distracting him more than he liked to admit, his self-control was waning and you weren’t even one day into training with him.

“What is this shit?”

You asked in a harsh tone at the breakfast he’d asked the House to provide you. It was a healthy, balanced meal, he ate the same dish, but larger to accommodate for his size.

“Breakfast.”

He replied simply, still chewing a mouthful of his food. She scoffed, and after a minute of pure silence from her, another plate popped onto the table, as well as a glass. A plate of meats and a glass of finely aged blood. He shot you a glare, before sighing and taking another bite of his food as you began digging into yours.

You were insufferable, he knew that for sure.

At least you are your breakfast quickly, that was a mercy, letting him drag you out onto the training fields quicker.

“Follow my le-“

He said before you cut him off.

“No. I don’t want your flimsy training.”

You practically hissed at him. He was getting fed up with you, both annoyed and attracted at the same time until he couldn’t tell which was which.

And so, he took his shirt off and began his stretches, slowly working his muscles up and back to life in a rhythmic manner. You seemed to do the same, however you had your routine of stretches that seemed like second nature to you, until your body was worked up and sweating, just like his.

When you were both finished, he turned to face you, sword in hand as the light gleamed off of his muscular body. He gave a lazy smirk, confident and sure of himself and his abilities.

“Ready, princess?”

He asked, knowing full well how angry the nickname would make you.

Your iron nails shot out, sharpened to a lethal point, as your iron teeth clamped down. You gave a wild, wolffish grin to him, the kind that made his knees go weak, before charging straight at him.

He knew from the moment the combat started that he’d underestimated you. You were a force of nature, iron gleaming, a glittering whirlwind of death as you immediately advanced, already circling him, going to strike.

He was on his feet, prepared for anything as his blade remained steady in his hands, his body automatically taking a defensive stance. He blocked, iron meeting iron with a metallic clang as you moved again, faster than you should’ve been able to move, your blow harder than it should’ve been able to be.

This dance of death continued, speeding up and gaining traction until you were both blurs of skin and iron meeting against each other. A third person remained, one that both of you were too engrossed in the sparring to notice.

The shadowsinger.

He watched as you got frighteningly close to Cassian’s jugular, only to be met with a blow to the ribs, bloodthirsty as you were, it barely seemed to affect you as you were on your feet and attacking again. You were overloading Cassian almost, your speed unmatched, and only his pure skill in combat kept him equal with you.

It was a beautifully frightening thing to watch, but after what was nearly forty-five minutes, you somehow managed to find a lapse in Cassian’s defense and struck him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he was then shoved and pinned against the ground, sharp iron held steadily against his skin.

“I win.”

You said with a nearly feral grin, clearly very happy that you’d won, and only stroking your ego further because of it. Cassian grumbled something, pushing you off of him and getting up, dusting himself off. You both would have bruises in the morning if not a few healing cuts.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

He demanded an answer. In all his centuries, he’d never seen a fighting style like that. Free and wild but kept just enough under strict control that it was devastating to anyone unlucky enough to face it.

“My coven taught me, Blackbeaks all learn to fight, but that was before..”

You said, the first part glimmering with pride, but trailing off, before you shook your head and dismissed it. He noticed but was quickly distracted by another of your comments.

“See? I am better than you.”

She said with a cocky iron grin, finally letting her metallic nails and teeth slide back up and out of sight as she let her ponytail down. The blatant insult made his wings twitch, but before he could snap and say something, Azriel entered the ring.

“I wasn’t aware witches had their own fighting style.”

His quiet but firm and steady voice spoke out. It seemed like he’d just stumbled upon them, ready for his morning training, despite him having been watching for nearly an hour. You gave a sharp grin and a nod, though a bit of curiosity lingered behind your gaze. He was the one she’d noticed watching her last night.

“Would you mind sparring with me?”

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

You’d gotten your ass beat by Azriel.

Cassian had been shouting and encouraging him from leaning against some of the railings, watching as Azriel managed to somehow both outmaneuver and outspeed you, a witch.

It was humiliating, but he never once made fun of you (though Cassian seemed the opposite). A Blackbeak wasn’t supposed to lose, losing wasn’t an option for a witch. But maybe…maybe it was fine, just this once, just to learn from this mysterious figure who’d been watching her.

Cassian and Azriel then took a turn at each other, and Azriel (unsurprisingly) won, at which he went back inside and off to his office to get paperwork and whatnot done, or whatever poor excuse he’d had to leave you and Cassian alone after seeing the tension between you two.

“Az really handed your ass to you, huh?”

He asked with a smirk, walking inside the House as it provided another meal for the both of you. You rolled your eyes and spoke.

“What even is he? He doesn’t smell normal, or look it for that matter.”

You then asked, drawing attention away from your embarrassing ass beating as you dug in.

“A shadowsinger, he controls the shadows ‘n shit, uses them as his little spies. He’s quiet, but we love ‘im.”

He said with a shrug, before catching onto her changing the subject and grinning with his mouth full.

“No, no, I still want to talk about how bad you were beat out there. You’re a witch, isn’t your job to…y’know, kill males and eat them or whatever?”

That struck a nerve, he realized a bit too late, as you snarled at him.

“Shut it. The only thing you males are good for is rutting and feeding, anyway.”

His eyebrows rose in both amusement and surprise. Was that what witches believed?

“Easy, princess, what’s got you so mad? Other than the obvious.”

You angrily chewed and swallowed a bite of meat, sighing before replying in a snappy tone.

“Blackbeaks aren’t supposed to lose. You win or you die, that’s how it’s always been, and I just…”

“You can’t win everything, you know?”

“But I should. I have to. That’s what I’ve always done, and I don’t see why I’m not doing it anymore now.”

“Who says?”

“The Matrons, the Covens…every single other witch to exist..?”

He sighed, putting his fork down with a clatter and looking you dead in your golden eyes.

“Are you sure they’re right? Because it sounds to me like you’ve just been blindly following without thinking at all.”

Your nostrils flared. He knew it had been a risky thing to say. You stood up, fist slamming into the table.

“How dare you question the Matrons? You have no right-“

“Do I, or is that just what you’ve been told to believe?”

That made you shut up for a moment.

It made you shut up, and most importantly, it made you think for the first time in a good while. You had always been told that you were a witch, a Blackbeak, heartless, soulless, and hated by everyone and thing in this wretched world. Things had always been so clear, and you’d been happy to obey, because who wouldn’t?

Things were easy when you just had to follow. When you didn’t have to make your own decisions or pick and choose, when you were told everything from the start, and that was that. It was easy when you were already shaped into what they had wanted from the beginning, so you didn’t have to go through the ache of growing into your own person.

Being told what to do, how to do it, when to do it, and everything except why was so dangerously easy.

And you’d been a fool, blindly following this entire time.

Cassian watched you just silently stand there, looking conflicted, before you slowly sat back down, studying him with a scrutinizing gaze.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice to at least just say something, to ask one of the millions of questions in your mind.

“You..weren’t told what to believe? How to think and act and feel?”

You asked, the hint of vulnerability in your demeanor making his heart ache. His expression almost softened.

“No, not like you were. I do things because I want to do them, or need to, not because that’s what I think I’m supposed to do.”

He explained, his brusque voice now calmer than ever when speaking to you. Explaining self-autonomy to you, a powerful being who could easily control their body in battle, but not their mind, always told what to do and how and when was strange, to say the least.

“How?”

You then asked, your voice cracking slightly, confusion tainting its usually stern tone. How could someone just do things for the sake of doing them, or because they wanted to? Did they not have rules here for these Fae? Was control and respect for those more powerful, not a thing here?

“Just…try doing the first thing that comes to your mind. What do you want to do right now?”

He asked, at which you swallowed, wracking your brain. What did you want to do? Cry. Sit here and cry like a baby until you can’t cry anymore, spill out every one of your secrets and feelings and thoughts to this male who had bothered to look past your exterior. And so you did.

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

Cassian was very surprised when you just started bawling at the dinner table out of nowhere, but a smaller, wiser, and more instinctual part of him had known.

He immediately abandoned his seat, moving to your side before hesitating and wondering what he was doing. This was a witch. A dangerous, bloodthirsty female could be faking this just to get him close or lower his guard.

But most importantly, this was a female who was upset, vulnerable, crying, and needing any form of comfort, and if he wasn’t that comfort then who would be?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He asked, gently lifting you into his arms, carrying you over to the couch where he sat down, you in his lap, and began shushing and reassuring you, one hand running soothingly against your back, his head on top of yours. You started babbling a story so quickly that he could barely catch the majority of it.

“My coven, they left me there, because I had a human lover, and he’d killed a witch before. They found him and they..they,”

You hiccuped and sobbed, crying against his chest, almost weeping. He felt more than just a pang of anger that your coven would abandon you in the Illyrian Steppes alone, all because you’d taken a human lover who had a history with witches. He could only imagine what they’d done to the poor man. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought of you with another man.

“It’s alright, let it out.”

He murmured in a soothing tone, hoping it was helping. At this point, he was so far gone that he would do anything to make you stop crying, and stop hurting. And maybe his advice of doing whatever first came to your twisted mind hadn’t been the greatest, because as soon as you stopped crying, sniffling, and trembling in his arms, you gently cupped his cheek, and as if the world was moving in slow motion, kissed him.

Fireworks went off through his entire body, all his nerves responding immediately, and he understood now why he’d been so worried and comforting for you, why he’d cared for you.

Mate.

The bond between them chanted, and based on the way your eyes widened and you began crying anew, he assumed you felt it too. He couldn’t pull away from the kiss, not now, and not anytime in the foreseeable future.

His body seemed to move on autopilot as he carried your trembling form down the halls to his bedroom, still relatively empty despite the many years of living in it.

His head told him this was too early, that you didn’t know what you were doing and only were reacting to the first male you had an attraction to, or any other reason it could spew. And he knew it was right. You needed time to sort this out, to figure yourself out, but he could be there to help piece you back together until you were whole and yourself, no one else’s to indoctrinate or enslave or command any longer.

He didn’t try to push his luck, not as he closed his door behind him, laid you down onto his bed, and stripped down to his boxers before laying down with you, holding you.

His wings wrapped around your body as he whispered sweet nothings, reassurances, and comforting words. His arms came to hold you in their strong embrace, the blanket warm and covering the both of you, the darkness of the room enveloping you. Behind that fierce, free witch with the sharpest of iron teeth and claws, was a traumatized female afraid to lose anyone else, too afraid to decide what path she wanted for herself without her past haunting her.

His forehead pressed against yours, his body almost like a furnace it was so warm, keeping your shaking one almost too warm. A reminder of the male you'd once held dear, but you wouldn't lose Cassian. Not like you'd already lost so many before. Your mate.

Just this once, you would savor this.

Or maybe, just maybe, just this eternity with your mate.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #writers on tumblr #cassian comfort #cassian fluff #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian acotar #angst #light angst #angst with a happy ending #comfort #fluff #witch!reader

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akashis-waifu · 3 months ago

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Excerpt from Beyond God and Evil (Aizen Sōsuke/Female Reader)

Continuation of An Eternity of Mind Games with You

Canon-divergence set months after TBYW. Reader is the new Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough. Your name is "Hana" for plot-purposes.

Tags: Romantic comedy, fluff and angst, enemies to old married couple, banter as love language, mutual pining, immortality, so good luck with the slow burn, Aizen is a menace but your menace <3

THAT NIGHT, in the Greater Soul King Palace, Aizen can be seen looking for you as you were not in your shared office nor in your personal quarters. He eventually finds you in the tearoom, reading a scroll while leisurely sitting on the tatami mat, near the window.

He stops himself from speaking, simply staring at you from a short distance away. You are already dressed in your usual nightwear — a white yukata so plain that it does not seem to befit a woman of your status. Nonetheless, with the gentle moonlight shining down upon your form and accentuating your regal yet serene features, the soothing breeze swaying your long, ivory strands in languid waves, the sight is incontestably ethereal — the image akin to a goddess in a painting.

Except that you are actually one. In every sense of the word.

After minutes of engrossed reading, you rise to return to the table when you finally notice Aizen standing in the doorway. He saunters towards you and stops in front of the low table, his eyes — that were previously appreciative — instantly narrowing in disdain upon sighting the poorly-written characters on the scattered papers.

“Can you, for the hundredth time, get off my case?” you groan while taking a seat.

He makes no retort and merely picks up your calligraphy brush and a blank paper, demonstrating how to write characters properly before handing the brush back to you.

“Like this. Do it again,” he commands, sounding like a stern teacher dealing with a wayward student. You repeat his strokes but the result is nowhere near satisfactory. You glance at him gingerly.

Although the displeased frown is ever-present on his face, he surprisingly does not insult you and simply sits beside you.

“Again.”

This time, he carefully guides your hand, pressing against your knuckles and fingers as he adjusts your grip. It is arguably an intimate gesture yet both of you pay it no mind, your entire focus on your calligraphy.

Strange enough, when he moves your hand along with his, you are able to write beautiful characters. But when left alone, your penmanship is almost comparable to that of a toddler. Hence, it is probably no exaggeration to claim that your innate inability to write legibly remains to be one of the greatest mysteries in the Three Realms.

Aizen observes your crestfallen expression. A mischievous idea suddenly crosses his mind, causing a smirk to spread across his face.

“Shall we make this more interesting? Every time you fail to write correctly, you will have to do one thing I want.”

You regard him with an look that screams you find his suggestion idiotic. “You must be out of your mind if you think I will ever agree to that.”

He leans closer to you, his grin widening in taunt. “Why? Do you have zero confidence in your own writing skills?”

“Your obvious provocation won't work on me.”

Aizen simply stares at you for a moment before leaning back with feigned nonchalance. “Shame. And here I was thinking of treating you to your favorite restaurant for the next decade should you win.”

Your ears instantly perk up at his offer. “Really?”

He barely stops himself from laughing derisively at your piqued interest. The way you fell for such an obvious bait, like a child who has been promised a treat, was downright pitiful.

“Do you accept the challe—?”

“Wait a minute,” you interject with a hand raised. “But your money technically comes from the Soul King Palace.”

“Which is my palace,” he argues with arms crossed over his chest. “Your point is?”

“It actually belongs to me but since I’m feeling particularly generous right now, I will share it with you,” you start rambling to buy yourself more time to consider his offer. “Anyway, your money is my money. Even if you say that you’ll treat me—”

“Hana. Do you want the unagi or not?”

Your mouth instantly shuts at his question and the way he called your name, sternly but also in a familiar manner. After a long moment of silent contemplation, you surrender with a sigh.

“Fine, but make it a millennium.”

He raises an eyebrow at your bold haggling. “Five decades.”

“Millennium.”

“A century.”

“A millennium, Aizen,” you declare with finality. “I refuse to play your game unless you agree.”

“Alright,” he relents. “I’ll treat you for the next one thousand years if you win.”

However, unbeknownst to you, the game is but a scheme, as per usual, to make you spend more time with him in the next decade — which you unknowingly extended to a millennium. Aizen smiles to himself, beyond pleased to witness you digging your own grave.

“Then, let the challenge begin.”

After handing you the brush and paper, he gives you the first character to write. You have never been so focused in your life as you are determined to win at all costs. However—

“Huh?” you mutter in disbelief as you stare at your own disastrous handwriting.

Aizen smirks, having seen your failure coming from a mile away. He already has an order in mind but feigns uncertainty to prolong your agony. His index finger drums the table, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm, shame. What should I make you do now?”

You watch him with narrowed eyes, already well-acquainted with his antics. “Stop beating around the bush and say it already.”

“How about this?” he deliberately pauses for dramatic effect. “I want you to say ‘All hail Lord Aizen, the new Soul King of the Three Realms’ ten times.”

A deafening silence falls upon the room as you meet his taunting gaze with a bemused expression. When he shows no indication of changing his command, you unwillingly surrender but not without a catch.

“All hail Lord Aizen, the self-proclaimed new Soul King of the Three Realms,” you deadpan.

Obviously, Aizen is far from impressed. “If you refuse to adhere to the terms, you will not get that unagi even if you win.”

With your beloved meal held hostage, you grit your teeth in annoyance and reluctantly heed his order. The grimace on your face worsens as you watch his shit-eating grin widen with every repetition you make, his head nodding with purposeful slowness to further grate your nerves.

Once you’re finished, he praises you with a sarcastic applause. “Well done, Hana. I never knew you appreciated me that much.”

You hiss under your breath and impatiently pick up the brush, glaring down at the empty paper, determined to win the next challenge. However—

As Aizen has predicted, you still fail at your second attempt. And miserably at that.

Slamming your hands down onto the table, you stare at the paper with profound disbelief, eyeing the barely decipherable scribbles as if wanting to wipe them from existence. How is it even possible to be that bad at something that was supposedly easy to do?

At the realization that you lost to him again, you look down, refusing to meet his gaze due to humiliation.

Aizen only sighs before shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I’m starting to think that you’re losing on purpose so I can get to order you around.”

“Please shut your mouth and just get on with it,” you beseech almost pathetically.

Thus, without further ado, he declares:

“You have to sit in my lap for the rest of your calligraphy practice.”

#shameless plug hehe #pls read more in Ao3 #bleach #aizen sousuke #sosuke aizen #aizen sousuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen x reader #it's bleach #it's high time that we produce more romcom for aizen #cuz with that sharp tongue bro can be the funniest menace #but no romcom for him pre-muken #he was so bad my high school self HATED his ass

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captainjamster · 10 months ago

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Observation Duty

Pairing(s): Price x fem!Reader Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, monitoring and surveillance, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual mutual masturbation, non-consensual recording and photos Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: John isn't quite the captain everyone thinks he is, but he knows just how to act like it. No one would ever believe the things he does behind closed doors. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ MORE! This is the first part of what should be two chapters, because I can't stop starting things without finishing them <3

If I miss any tags you think should be there, please let me know!

Full fic under the cut <3

John’s line of work has taught him that people are so, so easy to play with. Know the right person, the right place. Know what to say, who to say it to.

Keeping you safe, under his ever-observant eye, is easy in the barracks and on the field. You don’t make a single move he doesn’t see or hasn’t approved. But when you go home, away from him and his control, he just can’t help but worry. Are you safe, alone in that big, empty house? What do you get up to? Are you eating and drinking? Taking care of yourself? Who do you see? Do you invite anyone around? The idea of another man in your home makes him shudder, and in your bedroom isn’t something he even entertains. John needs to do something about it.

He’s been thinking for a while. Some way to watch you, every waking moment. A permanent eye on the wall. He knows your address; it’s right there in your files. There isn’t a single legal document or piece of information about you that he can’t obtain if he wants to. Every place you’ve lived, your parents, extended family, even your friendship circles. Your school results, community hobbies, bank purchases, every doctors trip – especially your birth control and fertility, he paid very close attention to those details. He knows how to play you; he listens to your grumbling, observes what makes you happy. Notices the moments where you’re less resistant, records what makes you flare up in defensiveness or fury. John is a well-educated man, one who could’ve been a scholar in another life, and he’s decided his favourite topic to study is you.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

“Remember to fill out your forms, lads. New policies coverin’ house insurance and maintenance, let me know if y’need any fixin’ at home.” He hands out the papers, carefully keeping yours separate without being too obvious. Soap’s head bobs up, glancing at you and taking the bait John has set out perfectly. “Oi bonnie, weren’t ye chattin’ ‘bout fixin’ a light o’ somethin’?”

Your face lights up at the mention, a bashful smile gracing your lips, and John would be mad that it’s not in his direction if he wasn’t so satisfied with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that, yeah! I was going to wait until I got home.”

Gaz hums, hunched over his own form as he signs it. “Maybe Ghost can buy a piece of furniture this year.” His sentence is rewarded with a pen smacking into the side of his head, bouncing off him and onto the table as Ghost snorts in amusement, answering gruffly. “Fuck off, Garrick.”

It never goes wrong, but he still feels smug at how effortless it is to orchestrate an entire conversation before it starts. Getting your signature is as easy as an extra sheet, you can’t even tell the difference. No one reads terms and conditions, and he’s made extra sure you don’t - a couple of edited test forms a few months ago - to rule out the chance.

With the paperwork completed, he contacts the company and gives them a boring, digestible cover story. “Yeah, her husband. Installing cameras, yeah. Keepin’ it safe while we’re both on deployment. Just a light out the back to fix, cameras to install in and outside.”

They’re so quick to listen to the man playing the big, strong head of the house, not a single question about why everything but the payment would be in his ‘wife’s’ name instead. Lying, John finds, is easiest when others do the work for you; give vague details that seem right, and let them come to their own little conclusions. Let them assume you’re some kind of military wife who doddles along behind him, just an obedient little civilian pet while he organises the household. If only they knew what you were and what you did, he thinks. Though still, an obedient little pet is how he would like you. It just takes time to get there.

They come over and install the cameras in less than a week. John’s antsy the day he gets the call that they finished, waiting for it to be over so he can experiment with his new toy. He ignores the questioning looks from his inferiors as he dismisses his last evening meeting early, pushing out the door into the stream of soldiers heading for dinner, only departing from the pack when he reaches his office door.

John prepared a room for this in advance – the moment he set the plan in motion. A room at home, his central control that he could run unmanned and long-distance, circumnavigating his occupancy at the base. It’s almost undetectable; no pesky windows to peek in from the outside, entry hidden behind a locked door in his office. The numerous screens flicker to life, illuminating the room in a blue glow. The cameras are perfect; detailed quality, blur-less zoom. Every angle. It quickly becomes his favourite room to be in, despite only being in it once when he headed home to initially set everything up.

At the base, all he needs is an electronic device and an app to access the command. His favourite to use is his phone, flicking through each screen to take in the rooms, committing each detail and decoration to heart. Though to keep up all professional appearances, he often settles for his laptop, flicking between reports and gazing at the screens with every spare second. John takes the weeks leading up to break to memorise your house, seeing each room flickering on the back of his eyelids as lies in bed, tracing each path you’d take morning and night until he falls asleep.

He protects it. Types your address into his maps app, virtually scouting the neighbourhood to make sense of all your outside cameras, memorising every surrounding street. Plans escape routes, recording positions of defence and any weak spots he could reinforce, windows or vents that are just too easy to wrench open by perverse men like him. Within a month, he knows your house plan like his own; enough to contemplate how he would reorganise it if you wanted him to move in, how many little ones it could hold, tiny feet pattering up and down its hallways.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

When the last week before leave finally comes around, he’s beyond ecstatic. John is a carefully controlled slate around anyone else, but his boys know each twitch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lip. They clue you in to his unusually excited behaviour with teasing jokes and remarks that have him rolling his eyes, gruffly ordering them back to work. Soap is betting on a secret missus, making a point to sneak up behind Price when Soap catches him texting away on his phone.

When he finally arrives home, he’s delighted to see your house is still empty. It gives him time to unpack, running loads of laundry and showering. He keeps an eye on his phone, monitoring the screens until he finishes, bringing a cup of coffee and dinner to his little surveillance room.

The screens fill the wall, a 3x3 set-up that basks the room in a pale glow, yet still isn’t enough to display every camera hidden around your house. Everything is silent, the occasional rumble of a car getting his hopes up, but nothing happens until a few sips of his coffee and an article later. Movement from one of the screen catches his attention, his head straightening to watch your front door swing open.

A bag is the first thing that comes through the door, flung down the hallway with a dull thud. Your figure follows it in, heaving another heavy bag behind you. John frowns at the sight, mindlessly tutting as he crosses his arms. He could be there to do that for you. None of this silly straining yourself.

Leaning back and settling in, he watches how you unravel from your long absence. It pleases him that you’re practical in your return, taking the time to wash your laundry, circulate and dispel all the stagnant air (although Price dislikes seeing your windows open, so unattended), and give the place a general tidy up. There’s a ping from your phone a few times that puts John on edge. Who’s texting you already, when you’ve been back for less than a day? His prominent guess is family and close friends, excited to have their beloved child home and safe, but he can’t help from worrying that he’s wrong. Maybe you’re so pent up that you just can’t help it, using those silly dating apps you talk about with Gaz, eager for someone to unravel all that need within you. Maybe it’s an old friends-with-benefits situation you already have that’s eager to climb back in your bed. Maybe – maybe he should bug your devices.

His deliberations are disrupted as you reward your productivity with what Price thinks to be a party in your bathroom. The small haven of what should be privacy isn’t free from his omniscient gaze, either. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting; there are no boundaries to him. There isn’t a single side of you he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.

The music comes through his speakers, some songs he recognises from the long travels spent in transport together. Melodies echo through your room as steam slowly gathers, whisps streaming in and out of his lens view as water slowly fills the bath. You trail from the room, meandering down the hall and grabbing some snacks from the kitchen, filling a glass with a carbonated drink you grab from the fridge. Snug in the corner above the entryway, paired neatly with the fire alarm, his camera catches the way you bend yourself over the counter, distracted by scrolling through some app.

He feels himself throb at the sight, fumbling to take a screenshot of the image. You tease him, staying bent like that as you wait for the bath, your ass swaying occasionally when a trendy song hums from your phone. Disappointment washes through him when you stand up, though he basks in the sight of your stomach peaking from under your shirt as you stretch, but his excitement is quickly renewed when you gather your snacks and head back to the bathroom.

The room has filled with a thick fog that blooms out into the hallway as you open the door. It clouds his vision, leaving him cursing for not considering the possibility. Your darkened figure is hardly visible as you move throughout the room, but from the soft, metallic clicks and flickering of light, he assumes you’re lighting something. Two lights blossom in front of you, remaining behind you as you crouch at the bath and start flicking the lighter again. The cloud has dispersed enough to let John see the fuzzy details of your face, watching as you bring a third candle to your face, inhaling with a hum of delight before you light the flame and return it to the bath’s edge. You strew the candles about the room, leaving a large one to glow on your vanity and putting the other one on your closed toilet lid.

You fiddle with the taps – running cold water, he guesses – and sit on the floor, sorting your snacks onto a long tray as the last of the mist spills from the room. He’s been lucky this time; had you not been treating yourself, taking the time to create a small sanctuary, the fog would’ve concealed any chance of John seeing you at such a vulnerable time. A flaw within his system that requires refinement. Perhaps a flaw he can turn into an excuse to visit you.

His thoughts fall flat when you stand up, slotting the tray into its position over the bath and silencing the taps with a few sharp turns. Finally. The point he’s been anticipating.

The captain waits with bated breath, eager to salivate over his uninvited striptease. It’s far from the first time he’s seen you undress, though it’s the first time you’ve been so beautifully unaware. Close proximity (and the resulting lack of privacy) is just another test of comradery – he’s showered next to you in just underwear and ripped your shirt or pants off to treat a stab wound more times than he can count.

But this time you undress, you don’t stop at your underwear.

There’s no to palaver or parade to your performance – there’s no real performance, just a one-sided show, and that alone has John’s cock aching. Capturing you without filter, pretences or social expectations, no song and dance of captain and soldier. You’re clumsy pulling off your underwear, catching the elastic on your toes and throwing it haphazardly onto the floor with the rest of your clothes through curses and grumbles. Inspecting yourself in the mirror, catching up on each new scar and burn, bending over and peering around to see the state of your backside and between your thighs. This is a side of you he can never glimpse on base, despite all his attempts.

The buzz of your phone distracts you, straightening up with a right, okay! and grabbing the small device, unlocking it to peer at the content as you gingerly slide a foot into the hot, soapy water. Bit by bit, you emerge yourself within the sudsy liquid, minding the tray as you let out an audible groan. John watches you melt into the bubbles, arms resting along the tub as your head falls back.

For a while, the two of you remain like that; John sat comfortably in his chair, ignoring the heat flickering in his lower stomach as he works through some papers, keeping an eye on your relaxed form as you decompress within the hot, sudsy water, picking at the tray of food and drink. His attention slips as the minutes go by, becoming more focused on his work – pushing the aching need between his legs further to the side - as he checks the screen every ten minutes.

The swishing of water becomes a tranquil ambience as you scrub at yourself, low voices from your phone that John doesn’t currently care to make out keeping you entertained through the process. You luxuriate in the tub for much longer than the barrack would ever allow, taking your time to scrub the build-up of product and dead skin that you give little concern during deployment.

A paper absorbs his attention, keeping his eyes occupied as he grumbles through writing. His concentration is only torn away as he finishes scribbling his signature, a sharp, unexpected moan filling his ears that has him looking up so fast his neck cricks. Scanning the screen, he quickly determines that it’s not coming from you – rather, your phone, and is now accompanied by a deep, masculine groan.

Your expression is clear on his screen, a flush to your cheeks as you gaze at your device, hand running along your chest teasingly to tug at a nipple. Whether it’s from the pornographic material playing on your phone or the heat of the water, John can’t tell.

The tent of his pants is already insufferably tight, and he swears there’ll be a zipper print against the red of his aching cock when he pulls it out. He wants to relish this, commit each moment of this first time to memory without the taint of his lust, but he can’t help the growing need between his legs. Ignoring it to finish paperwork, merely bask in the company of your unwinding routine, has been a challenge even for his steeled resolve.

As he watches your hand trail down the soft pudge of your torso, dipping into the bubbly water to follow the rise and dip of your stomach, he breaks. His cock springs out of his briefs like it’s gasping for air, bouncing angrily against his stomach with each haphazard tug at the elastic around his hips. He can only imagine how your fingers work between your legs at that sensitive skin, how you orchestrate your undoing.

The tray holds your phone conveniently, allowing both hands to roam your body, and John thanks his luck for at least the opportunity to watch you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. You tug at the sensitive buds with whimpered moans, water sloshing as your hips buck against your hand, teasing John with actions that he can’t see.

He’s damp to the touch as he grips his shaft, fingers immediately sticky with precum that’s been smeared throughout his briefs. Pearlescent beads drool from his tip in a lazy stream, lubricating his motions as he tugs lightly at his foreskin, already teetering the edge of climax. The slightest stimulation has his stomach tightening, listening to your gasps and whines grow in urgency.

You chase your orgasm eagerly, working with a pent up need that comes from the absence of full privacy within the miliary. Convulsions rack through you in synchronisation, moans combining in a harmony he wishes wasn’t separated by the screen. He wants to time it perfectly; fuck up into his fist and release as you reach your own peak, as if a flawless synchronisation is key to unlocking some phantom sensation of being buried between your thighs, clenched down around him.

It doesn’t take much more teasing before you catch up, your tiles wet as water breaches the rim with each careless thrust. The video in front of you has ended, long forgotten as your head lulls back, lost in the sensations that envelope your consciousness that prove to be too much. They push you over the edge with a ragged cry, your knees peaking from the water as your thighs clench around your hand, and John loses himself too.

All it takes it a few weak thrusts into his hand before his balls are tightening, seed spilling in enthusiastic spurts, striping his shirt and pants before it dies down to a dribble that John coaxes out with a groan. He sits there, watching your breathing even out as you wipe away at your mess, spent and catching his breath as the cum dries on his clothes. You’re quick in cleaning up the mess, pulling yourself up on unsteady limbs as you pull the plug, bending down to rinse your hands one last time for John to relish.

He's almost heartbroken when you step out the tub, droplets cascading down to drip from your form, only to reach for a towel to wrap around yourself. The fabric is a slim cover, leaving glimpses of your behind and chest as you dry yourself, humming a tune with a note of content John wishes he brought instead. John tucks himself back into the soiled briefs, shucking off his shirt and pants to wash momentarily, but not before he glimpses you one last time getting changed.

Before you can reach for the underwear placed in advance on the sink and discard your towel, the camera barely picks up the vibration of your phone, catching both his and your attention. Leaning over to the tray, your process is halted by a text on your screen that makes you smile, and whether it’s the drunken, post-orgasmic haze that clouds his mind, or the way it makes him more vulnerable to the surge of jealousy that flares up at your giggle, John finds himself fumbling through the lockscreen and pulling up your contact before he can stop himself.

If you’re not going to think about him during your masturbation, he’s sure as hell going to make sure you think of him after.

Dividers by cafekitsune

#READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE BABIES!!!!#price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #jams writings #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon

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eddiediazismyhusband · 5 months ago

Text

just a caual reminder that eddie does not need to kiss, date, or sleep with anyone other than buck to make his queerness any more valid

queer characters don’t need to hookup a bunch of times and date around before settling down because queer people irl don’t have to do that either

there are other ways a character can “let loose” and blow off steam than just throwing them into a hookup plotline, and doing so with eddie would just rehash the buck 1.0 plotline and would be lazy writing

not to mention it being yet another roadblock for buddie canon

like ik it can be frustrating to see the writers refusing to give eddie any care within the story and giving him some sort of happy arc, but that doesn’t mean that the only way he can be happy is by simply dating a man… just like how bt isnt narratively satisfying, eddie dating a random man isn’t going to be narratively satisfying either… i want queer eddie as much as the next person and honestly, if it had been a few seasons ago maybe i wouldn’t be as apprehensive to this kind of arc, but this show isn’t going to last forever… i don’t want them to keep dragging buddie out convoluting the plot by bringing in more li’s for both of them just because the fans are “okay with stepping stone relationships”

we’re entering season 8. we’re entering the 7th year of buddie being a ship. we don’t have time nor need for stepping stone relationships anymore. i know that jealousy and mutual pining arcs are enjoyable, but atp anything prolonging them getting together is just risking us never getting buddie… i don’t want a repeat of s6 where they wind up with shit engame li’s bc they wasted too much damn time dragging their feet and giving them these rando love interests

we also run the risk of fans jumping ship again if eddie were to get a male li that isn’t buck because there are so many people out there who (like w bt) just wanna see eddie kiss a man and once they get that, they’ll ditch the buddie ship, and we’ll once again find ourselves struggling to stay afloat

yes ik this show is a drama, ik slowburns thrive off drama, but this slowburn has been building since s3 (arguably s2 for some of us) it has been beyond enough time for them to keep it a slowburn; they need to actually go through with it now rather than continuing to bait us bc Ryan and Oliver both deserve better storylines to play than that.

i am obviously trying to remain cautious and will not trust the writers to handle things well until they do, but it doesn’t help our cause to be suggesting storylines this late in the game that will only serve to convolute the plot even more than it already is at this point. these tropes are amazing in fics that have no set end date, but 9-1-1 as a show is not going to run forever— we don’t even know if we are even going to get a 9th season yet. This could very well be our last opportunity to get buddie canon, and cheering on plotlines that would push buddie canon even further back on the roster is only going to dilute our chances even more.

i say this with love, not with spite, but i have seen a lot of people wishing for/posting about how they hope to see these storylines play out and i’m here to say we are not in a position for any of these anymore, and that’s just the unfortunate reality of a show entering its 8th season in a television environment where shows are lucky to get past 2 or 3 seasons.

#911 abc #911 on abc #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie 911 #buck and eddie #911 buddie #buddie canon #buddie endgame #buddie season 8

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garcargofarfar · 10 months ago

Note

HIHHIHIIH I SAW YOUR REQUEST ARE OPEN

May I pretty please request some fluffy headcanons for Laurance x Garrorth x reader?

Also, may I pretty please be ⭐ anon?

Omg my first request on this blog! Thank you Anon <3 (I honestly thought the Aphmau community was dead) AND YES OMG I LOVE GARRANCE. I wasn't sure if you wanted this as in separately fighting for your love type or a threesome type. ALSO I wasn't sure if you wanted this set in PDH or MyStreet(or mcd but I haven't watched mcd) so..

Here have them all⭐️

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

Laurance x Garroth x Reader HEADCANONS

Laurance x Reader, Garroth x Reader, Garrance

Era of Pdh and MyStreet

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

LAURANCE X READER/GARROTH X READER (separate)

PDH

Garroth and Laurance, like with Canon Aph, will both end up falling for you

The two of them would fight for your attention, remaining a friendly competition, but never letting that get in the way of their friendship

Garroth would be the more responsible and caring one

Laurance would be the more popular and carefree one

The two would secretly come to a mutual agreement to share you until you decide who to get with

Meanwhile, they'd both go behind each other's backs and try to spend the most time with you

You have separate classes with them both, respectively, yet also, occasionally have a class with both of them together

Garroth isn't the type for too over-the-top pet names, he'd go for something simple like love, sweetheart, babe, etc.

Laurance doesn't care as much and does whatever he feels like

Both boys will screw over one another and give them false information, thinking you had no clue

Meanwhile, you were aware of everything listed above but just never admit it

MYSTREET

Remember what I said earlier about Garroth being the responsible one? Yeah, not anymore.

Garroth will eventually turn out to be the outgoing and goofy bundle of joy, but he knows when to be serious and when not to

Laurance is.. well, Laurance. He hasn't changed much since high school, but a tad bit more serious than he used to be to balance out Garroth's crazy mind

Both the boys would come over to find you occasionally at your house and refuse to leave, always finding excuses to be by your side

Eventually, they'll give in and work together, trying to get your attention together

Seeing as they live together, they hold meetings to plot out the perfect moments

L : "Oh, what a coincidence! Zane says he'd be home late."

G : "Would you mind if we stayed longer? To watch another movie?"

You : "We just watched all eight of the Harry Potter movies! Eight!"

GARRANCE X READER(threesome)

PDH

The two starts off surprised, learning that you're up to try a threesome

At first, it's hard to share you

Eventually, the two boys will learn to be gay asses and they'd purposely show each other more affection than to you to piss you off

You get pissed off

It takes them forever to get your attention and forgiveness, but knowing them, they'd pull this off again in less than two weeks time

MYSTREET

The boys are mature, they'll finally learn to share.

Until, of course, they start getting jealous of each other. Again.

Garroth is usually on your left and Laurance on your right

It doesn't mean anything, but it's become habit

Actually, a lot of things have become habit

Like watching movies with the two on the weekends, having one boy's head on your lap as your head lays on the others shoulders, arms wrapped around you

And then, comes Sprinkles.

Laurance uses Sprinkles as bait and gaslighting

You use Sprinkles as emotional support while the two fight over Garroth's love for Sprinkles

L : "GARROTH! SPRINKLES WILL BE VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU!"

G : "STOP BRINGING HER INTO THIS!"

You : *petting Sprinkles in your room* "Why are they like this."

Sprinkles : meow.

You : "I don't know what I see in those two idiots either."

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

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necronatural · 11 months ago

Text

Limbus Company theory

Okay, I have absolutely no idea if anyone's noted this yet. Did anyone pick up that the Sinners are held down by a Sin, represented in their EGO, and their Canto are about their struggles against another sin entirely. The branch creates a space for 'penance'. When Rodya entered the field of effect of the branch, Baba Yaga went crazy, freezing the entire mine. There's clearly some paralleling at work here.

So let's go through.

Gregor, Canto 1: Sloth V Gluttony (survival); note that this expedition failed, and we later explore Sloth with Yi Sang

Rodion, Canto 2: Pride V Gloom; note that Rodya refused to actualize

Sinclair, Canto 3: Gluttony (Greed) V Lust

Yi Sang, Canto 4: Sloth V Gluttony (greed); Dante's resonance begins

Ishmael, Canto 5: Gloom V Envy; Dante's resonance progresses

When we look at the dominant sins of the remainder...

Heathcliff, Canto 6: Envy...

Don Quixote, Canto 7: Lust…

Hong Lu, Canto 8: Gloom…

Ryoshu, Canto 9: Wrath…

Meursault, Canto 10: Pride…

Outis, Canto 11: Pride…

Faust, Canto 12: Pride…

Dante, Canto ?: ????

Sins not confronted yet: Sloth, Pride, Wrath

Sinner sins left to explore: Envy, Wrath, Lust (If we're talking strictly what progressed Dante's clock, Gluttony & Pride)

Assuming Dante's doomsday clock setting is moving in 5 minute intervals, Dante currently has 2 positions left on their clock; 5 minutes to midnight and midnight itself. It's made almost explicit that their resonance with sinners is the tool with which they resonate with the branches. By obtaining each sin, they're building to some sort of complete whole.

Predictions based on this theory; Pride being so back-heavy probably means we're going to scramble for branches with Hermann. It gives the impression that for whatever reason Pride is necessary, which is interesting.

My own theory: Rodya says she'll settle in the cold [Gloom] for a little longer, and Sonya says she doesn't have the mark. I'd say this might mean Rodya hasn't sufficiently resonated. Sonya may have tried to bait her in hopes of getting better results in this regard.

This may mean ...

The last few Cantos will be a losing streak (LOL)

Someone who hasn't cleansed themselves of their opposing sin/formed the mark of cain will get the branch; I'd imagine this person shares sins with Dante, Vergilius, or Charon, who I believe are probably Envy, Wrath, and Lust respectively (OOP @ WHO WE'RE MISSING ⬆️)

In that respect Vergilius V Sloth, Charon V Pride, Dante V Wrath. I even think the wrath Dante is opposed to could be Vergilius

Very notable there's only 3 sins missing; it could be possible we already have Dante's branch; they were very obviously part of the group of Cain Marked, and again, their clock started at 25-to-midnight and just kind of sat there for a little while. It's also possible it didn't move until Yi Sang because their sin was Gluttony (ambiguous manifestation)? If Hermann also represents Lust ..... Think about it

Rodya's refusal of the call of Cain might become plot-relevant, just as our failure to observe what happened to Gregor on the myth arc timeline of 3 years ago and relationship with the Big Bad makes it obvious he's going to be a core character in the future. We can tell based on those who have the mark of Cain that he just doesn't have the chops, so mayhaps their mutual exclusion will be a surprise tool that will help us later.

And of course, my theories for the sins that weigh down our remaining Sinners: Heathcliff V Sloth, Don Quixote V Wrath, and Ryoshu V Pride. I predict all the Prides share Rodya's opposing force, which is Gloom; we see this in the books these characters are based on, with Meursault's despair of being sentenced to death being overcome by his Pride, Outis putting herself through grueling trials for the sake of returning to her family, and Faust beginning with suicidal depression leading to her pride creating(summoning) Mephistopheles.

I think it would be pretty funny if Dante was Gretchen's evil baby. Or that Gretchen might have been their previous self, manipulated into giving birth to Dante (extremely vulnerable and exploitable state), which they will be disgusted by and put to death. How many representations of the Divine Feminine in classic literature can Dante represent any% speedrun

#limbus company #theorycrafting #meta

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merbear25 · 2 months ago

Note

Heyyy, it's me again ~ Here to ask again for the Kintober... What about a nice Caesar Clown with the day 16 - Mutual masturbation with a female x reader ~ Have a good day ~ <3

I tried something a little different with this, so I hope you like it. 💜🧡

You’d been working alongside Caesar for a little while now, catching glimpses of what made him tick. The mingling of an unspoken yearning to explore what lied below the surface hung in the air. To take a peek behind the curtain could be to shatter the image you’d built up in your head, although the heat rose within you, itching to let out.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, pining, mutual masturbation, thigh riding, undefined relationship, cumshot

A helping hand (Caesar)

Sneaking peeks at each other, while you worked side-by-side had become a daily occurrence. The tension was palpable, torturous at times. Practically undressing you with his eyes, the subtle hints you gave him that you were interested allowed his imagination to run wild in his loneliest hours.

Self-indulging in the sanctuary of his private quarters started off as a guilty pleasure; images of you being the one wrapped around him, guiding him through his waves of frenzied passion flooded his mind. With time, his fix couldn’t be met. He needed more—you.

One day as the setting sun painted the sky in streaks of oranges and purples, the dying rays peeked through the windows in the lab. They casted themselves on your face for a brief moment, capturing a picture that wouldn’t easily be forgotten.

A flickering gaze landed on him, catching him red-handed. Even with your eyes holding on his, that prickling, tingling sensation spreading over his skin couldn’t bait him into breaking the connection sparking between you two.

With an amorous air filling the space between you, that glint of mischief as you walked out of the room further whetted the appetite that had been plaguing his nights. His steps echoed around you as you journeyed through the hall, closing in by the second until he was right on top of you.

“Yes?” The cool tone fanned the flames of desire raging in him. That calm, yet sultry pull on your expression had his chest heaving from the unbridled zeal harbored towards you.

His lips curled, while he peered down at you. “Are you really going to keep this act up?”

“Hmm? An act?” You feigned innocence.

He chuckled softly. Clouds of white gas swirled around you as his hands were gently placed on your shoulders and his lips grazed your ear. “Come now, it’s written all over your face. You want me just as much as I want you, isn’t that right?” His breath was hot against the side of your face.

Those golden orbs flickered across your face for any indication of what was running through that mind of yours. Swirls of the gas brushed against your exposed skin, making you shudder from the sensation of him getting a taste of what kind of performer you’d be.

The subtle pout you made to suppress a whimper was all the reassurance he needed. His long fingers ghosted your arm, relishing the goosebumps left in their wake. Finding their way to your hand, the gentle squeeze of it gave him a hint of the satisfaction that would soon consume both of you.

Luring you to the sectional sofa, he kept his attention on you the entire time: each twitch of your lips, shift in your emotions served well as an appetizer. Laying back, he spread his legs to sit you down in between them.

“That’s right,” he cooed at you in a low voice. His hands gripped your hips, scooching you closer to him.

There was a brief moment when your eyes met his, but that was quickly replaced with a searing kiss. His thumb pulled down on your chin, giving him entry to explore your mouth. With your kiss deepening, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the gale force winds of passion. Your fingertips rested on his wrists when his hands cupped your delicate face. Such a tender display and it was testing his restraints more than anything had in a long time.

His tongue dragged up your neck and his moan was muffled against your skin as you quaked under him. You rested your hands on his inner thighs to stabilize yourself, while he nipped and lapped at your neck. Their caress left him yearning for more. As his hips instinctively thrusted against nothing, desperate for some kind of attention, his hands roamed further down your body.

Each dip and curve was hungrily ravaged by him. In a swift moment, he tugged your dress off. The faint sound of it falling to the floor left you impatient to see more of him, as well. Your hands moved inward and then up his chest, pulling at his clothes.

The sight of your intoxicating allure just inches away from his naked body was nearly too much to bear. His cock twitched from the overpowering carnal urges building inside him.

Your dainty fingers wrapped around the base of him. As you stroked him up and down, the gentleness carried out in your touch was too timid for what he wanted that night. He placed his hand around yours, the sheer size of it engulfing you. His grip tightened to show you exactly how he wanted you to please him. The guided tugs were making him shake.

Your eyes soaked up the delightful expression on his face, leaving you wanting nothing more than to get lost in the heat of the moment. His eyes rolled back and fluttered shut as your longing gaze held onto him.

“Just like that,” he murmured.

As your soft skin caressed his full length, the slightly tighter squeeze you added to the tip coaxed a long exhale from him. His golden orbs fell on you, bottomless pools of lust wishing to drag you to their depths.

You’d been sitting pretty between his legs, lavishing him with all the personal attention he could ask for. That hunger returned to his demeanor soon enough, eating away at his self-control. While you squirmed, your growing need to satiate the appetite gnawed at you. Your hips acted on their own accord, tingling from whatever friction you managed to get. The rubbing of your cotton panties against the fabric of the sofa sent jolts of euphoria throughout your core.

Watching the desperation eat away at you lured a low growl from him. He patted his thigh and grinned down at you. You took your seat on his bare thigh, letting your slick lips nestled behind the fabric press against him.

He flexed it to offer more friction to your needy cunt. A satisfied hum grazed your ears, when you greedily chased your own high. He led your hand to his recently ignored lust for you, not letting you get away with taking all the fun for yourself.

Each shudder of yours that wept onto him fueled that fire raging within. His arm snaked around you, and his hand gripped at the fat on your hip. The way his stare fixated on you sent a thrill pulsating through your core. Your sensitive bundle of nerves dragged over him. The natural lubricant pooling between your legs only added to the tantalizing bliss.

“You’re so beautiful, so mine.” His other hand tangled in your hair as he stole another kiss. Your murmurs of bliss were swallowed by him.

“Love this so much.”

Your admission trailed into his ears, allowing him to absorb all of the adoration you were offering. With each rut of your hips, your grip tightened. He nipped at your bottom lip as his fingers dug into you, and his thrusts became more urgent.

“Give into me, give yourself to me entirely,” he groaned against your tender lips.

The thrill of it all had you teetering on the edge, just about ready to take the plunge. Those crashing waves of euphoria below were all too tempting to hold out much longer.

With choked gasps, you unraveled on his thigh. The pool of arousal between your legs seeped into his skin, branding him with your lust meant only for him. He wrapped his hand around yours to send himself tumbling after you.

The rush of your skin being painted with streams of his pent-up desire caused his body to tremble. Splashes of his seed coated your leg and part of your hip, wrapping around each feminine curve you’d served to him.

The sight of your juices slathered across him and his own white hot passion coiled around you was something he could get used to. Through heavy pants and tired looks, he pulled you on top of him.

Your spent state melted into him, and when he wrapped his arms around you, the feeling that you’d been claimed by him sunk in. The waves of your shared climax settled the longer you held each other. Such passion amongst co-workers was a taboo that you’d originally sworn against, and yet that dark charm of his possessed you to throw caution to the wind. Introducing a dash of spice to the workplace could be fun and there was no one better to indulge in it with than him.

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #caesar clown #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op #one piece x you #one piece smut #op x reader #op x you #caesar clown x reader #one piece caesar clown

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moeitsu · 9 months ago

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A fisher of men and A strange encounter.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 2 - The Snow Is On The Grass Again

The chill of May lingered as Kate set up camp near the riverbank, where patches of snow still clung to the ground. With the water icy cold, bathing was out of the question, but she found comfort in the soothing melody of the flowing stream. Nearby, Lorena grazed peacefully as Kate hummed a tune and cast her line, hoping for a catch to satisfy her hunger.

It had been two weeks since her stagecoach heist with Arthur and Hosea. Since then, Seamus hasn’t given her any more dubious tasks, and she hasn’t seen the two men either. She went back to being a ranch hand for a bit until she told Seamus it was time she moved on again. She followed the river south until she found a suitable spot to set up camp for the night.

It was a beautiful sunny day, but still chilly enough for a jacket. "It's cold, but at least the fish don't seem to mind," Kate remarked to herself as she felt a strong tug on her fishing line. With a flick of her wrist, she hooked the fish and began reeling it in, “Cmon now don’t fight too hard,” she mused to herself.

Lorena whinnied for attention "easy, girl," Kate murmured, as she made a noise behind her again. "Let me pull this in first." Suddenly, the quiet scene shattered as Lorena squealed in fear, her hooves pounding the ground. Kate's heart raced as she spun around, spotting a small copperhead slithering toward her mare.

"Sh-shhh, it's alright, it's just a snake," Kate reassured, her voice trembling slightly. But Lorena, in a state of panic, bolted downstream. With a grunt, Kate abandoned her fishing pole and chased after her horse. "Lorena! It's okay, girl, you're alright!" she called out, her voice echoing over the rushing water.

Though reluctant to admit it, Kate knew this wasn't the first time Lorena had been spooked. Usually, the mare's restlessness signaled impending danger, but snakes remained her Achilles' heel. It was a fear Kate couldn't rid her beloved horse of, even if she tried. Not that she ever would.

As they rounded the bend of the river, Kate lost sight of Lorena, but the mare's hoofprints remained etched in the sand. With a silent prayer, she pressed on, hoping her companion hadn't ventured too far.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

"Think this spot looks good, Uncle Arthur," chirped the little boy from his saddle as they neared the riverbank's edge.

"I think you’re right Jack. Let's give it a shot and see if we can reel in some fish," Arthur replied, guiding Belle to the sandy shore and helping Jack dismount.

Taking the smaller fishing pole from Arthur, Jack asked, "Where should we stand?"

"Right by the shoreline, just follow me," Arthur directed, leading Jack to the water's edge. "See those ripples? That's where you'll want to cast your line. Just aim for that, and you'll snag 'em."

“I wanna try!” He exclaimed impatiently while Arthur baited their lines with cheese.

"Okay kiddo, watch me. Hold the line over your shoulder like this," Arthur demonstrated, guiding Jack's movements. "Now, swing it forward smoothly, using your wrist, not your elbow."

Jack mimicked his uncle's actions eagerly. "Like this?"

"Exactly! Well done, Jack. Now, all we do is wait for a fish to take the bait," Arthur said proudly, as Jack beamed up at him, standing closer by his side.

As Arthur watched Jack with a mixture of pride and guilt, he realized how long it had been since they'd spent quality time together. Since their escape from Blackwater, life had been a whirlwind of tasks assigned by Dutch and taking care of the camp, leaving little room for personal time. He was about to leave camp again when Abigail asked if Arthur would watch Jack for her. Dutch would most likely make a comment about it later, but at the moment he couldn't care.

After a minute of peaceful silence, Jack looked up at him again with a curious expression. "Uncle Arthur, can the fish see us?"

Arthur chuckled at the unexpected question. "Well, not exactly like how you see me. It's a bit blurry for them, I reckon," he replied, scratching his head at the complexity of explaining fish vision to a four-year-old.

"Oh, okay. Can they hear us then?" Jack fired another question.

"Pretty much the same, I suppose," Arthur replied with a grin. "They can hear us, but not as clear as you and I can hear each other. Why all the questions, Jack?"

"Do fish talk?" Jack pressed on, undeterred by his uncle's attempt to change the subject.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "Well, Jack, do other animals talk?" he countered, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Jack paused for a moment, pondering the question. "Hmm, nope. Can't think of any," he admitted.

"Exactly. So, no, fish don't talk," Arthur affirmed, looking down at Jack, who seemed lost in thought, gazing at the grasses behind them.

"Uncle Arthur, I'm bored," Jack suddenly declared, breaking the silence.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh, realizing his attempt at fishing with his young nephew hadn't been the most thrilling activity. "Yeah, I figured as much," he muttered to himself. Louder, he addressed Jack, "You know what? Why don't you go explore? Just stay close to me, alright?" But before Arthur could finish his sentence, Jack darted off toward a nearby pool of rocks.

As Arthur continued fishing, lost in his own thoughts, he heard the loud approach of hoofbeats. Instinctively, he jumped to intercept the approaching stranger before they could draw too close to him and Jack. To his surprise, the horse charging toward him was unmistakably Kate's, riderless and wild.

"Ain’t that Kate's horse?" Arthur muttered to himself in disbelief, raising his hands in a futile attempt to calm the agitated mare. "Easy, girl, it's alright," he murmured soothingly.

Jack, drawn by the commotion, hurried to join Arthur, his eyes wide with excitement. "Whoa! Where'd that horse come from?" he exclaimed.

"Stay behind me, Jack. She's spooked, and I don't want her to accidentally harm you," Arthur cautioned. As he tried to assess the situation he recognized it was indeed Kate's horse but was unable to recall its name. Peering down the riverbank where the horse had emerged, he found no sign of its owner.

With gentle words and a steady hand, Arthur coaxed the horse into submission, finally gaining control of the reins. "What kinda trouble you in, girl?" he wondered aloud, stroking her snout.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Kate followed the hoof prints of her mare, she rounded another bend in the river and finally spotted her beloved horse. "Oh thank god," she murmured, letting out a relieved sigh. Right before realizing there were two figures accompanying Lorena—a burly man and a small boy, both appearing to have been fishing.

About to call out her gratitude, Kate stopped as the man turned, revealing himself to be Arthur, the same man from the stagecoach incident. Surprised yet somewhat pleased to see him, memories of their previous encounter flooded back, particularly their pleasant conversation during the ride back from Carmody Dell. They had talked about their horses and she knew Lorena was in good hands with him.

"Mr. Morgan! I can't thank you enough. I hope she didn't cause you any trouble," Kate called out, jogging to meet them. Arthur looked up at the sound of his name, visibly relieved at her arrival, replied, "Miss McCanon! I was a little worried when I saw your horse come through here without you."

"She got spooked by a snake, that's all," Kate explained, petting Lorena affectionately. "She's a bit dramatic, though," she added with a hint of amusement.

As a small face peeked around Arthur's frame, Kate smiled warmly, realizing it must be his son. "Your horse is very pretty, miss," the boy remarked shyly.

“Thank you, would you like to pet her?” She asked with a smile, the boy nodded, “she’s a little shy so just go slow, let her come to you.” The child looked up at Arthur and only approached once he nodded a go ahead.

"Getting tired of Seamus' dubious stagecoach business, I take it?" Arthur teased, prompting laughter from Kate. Their banter flowed effortlessly, she found Arthur refreshingly different from most men she encountered. He had a playful and protective aura, with a bit of something else that made her incredibly intrigued. Or maybe it was just because he was handsome.

Kate smiled and shook her head with a laugh, “not quite. Just about time I move on I guess. I was only passin’ through. I see you’re still here enjoying the countryside though, haven’t given up on robbing stagecoaches yet?” She teased back.

Before Arthur could respond, the boy blurted out, "Uncle Arthur and my daddy robbed a—" Arthur swiftly intervened, diverting attention away from the boy's revelation.

"Kids have wild imaginations," Arthur chuckled nervously, steering the conversation back. "So, um, where are you heading? Camping around here?" he inquired.

So Jack is his nephew, Kate smiled to herself, these two were adorably entertaining, her heart panged slightly at the memory of what her life could have looked like. Her grief still makes itself present in the cracks of her being even after all these years. "Just going west, no place in particular. My camp is just downstream," she replied, gesturing in the direction she came from.

Jack tugged on Arthur’s sleeve and motioned for him to bend down, with a slight roll of his eyes he kneeled down to his level, “can we invite her back to camp?” The boy whispered not so quietly.

“Jack you can’t go inviting every stranger you meet back to camp,” he spoke sternly, “you know we’re on the run, we gotta be safe around here.” He added quietly, the boy looked up sadly but nodded in understanding. Arthur entertained the thought of inviting Kate back to the camp, he knew she was taking on odd jobs and constantly on the move. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she stayed for a few days. He would never admit it, but he was a little disappointed they didn't cross paths again in the two weeks since the heist.

“Ah, hell, why not” he breathed, turning back to Kate, “It’ll get pretty cold tonight, winters still not through in these parts. My camp is up on Horseshoe overlook,” he took his hat off bashfully, “If you’d like a warm fire, and some good company, you're welcome to join us.”

As Kate was about to respond to Arthur's invitation, the rhythmic thud of hooves interrupted them. Two men in detective uniforms descended toward the water, casting a shadow over their gathering. "What a touching and complex circumstance we have here," one of the men remarked as he dismounted, while the other leveled his rifle at Arthur. Sensing danger, Kate instinctively stayed close to her horse.

Protectively, Arthur positioned himself in front of Jack as the man approached. "Arthur, is it? Arthur Morgan?" he inquired, his tone heavy with accusation.

"Who are you?" Arthur countered, his voice tight with tension.

"Yes, Arthur Morgan," the man echoed, “Van Der Linde’s most trusted associate, orphaned street kid seduced by that maniac's silver tongue. And matures into a degenerate murderer.” He finished.

Arthur's tension escalated, leaving Kate astounded. She harbored suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye, but the revelation of being wanted for murder caught her completely off guard. Despite the shock, she found herself even more intrigued by the supposed outlaw.

“I’m agent Milton, and this is agent Ross,” he gestured to the other gentleman holding the rifle. “We’re with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. It's nice to finally meet you,” he looked over at Kate and added, “and you as well miss. Who might you be?”

"Madeleine McCanon," Kate responded, opting for a false name to distance herself from whatever was about to unfold. Agent Milton pressed further, questioning her connection to Arthur.

“Do you know this man?” He inquired, but before she could answer he continued, “because we sure know him.” His tone, that of a detective accustomed to authority, carried a hint of arrogance, as if he relished the prospect of confrontation.

“Oh do you?” Arthur said coldly.

“He’s a wanted man, Miss McCanon,” he said, turning to face her, “There's five thousand dollars for his head alone.” Kate glanced a look at Arthur but made no sign of her surprise.

Arthur chuckled, "Five thousand dollars? For me?" He glanced around casually. "Can I turn myself in?" he quipped.

Agent Milton's expression remained stern. "We want Van der Linde. A man matching his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall a few weeks back."

Kate's memory jolted as she recalled reading about the robbery in the paper. It was carrying money to fund a new oil rig off the Wapiti reservation. Thousands of dollars were stolen, but none of the passengers on the train were injured.

“Ain't that a little old fashioned nowadays?” Arthur attempted, trying to sound innocent.

“Apparently not,” Milton deadpanned, “this is my offer Mr. Morgan: You bring us Van der Linde. And you have my word you won't swing.”

“Oh, I ain't gonna swing anyways agent Milton. You see, I haven't done anything wrong, aside from not playing the game by your rules.” He argued condescendingly.

Milton's tone grew sterner. "I appreciate this society."

“You enjoy being a rich man's toy!” Arthur snapped back.

“You people venerate savagery, and you will die savagely,” Milton emphasized.

Arthur's voice dripped with defiance. "All of us are gonna die someday, agent, some sooner than others."

With that, Milton turned on his heel and walked toward his horse. "Good day to you, Mr. Morgan," he said as he departed. "And if you know what's good for you, Miss McCanon, stay far away from this man. Unless you want to end up dead like his friend Mac Callander."

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Arthur cursed under his breath, " fuck ." He turned to face Kate, Jack looking between them, unsure of what to do next.

Feeling like a complete fool for inviting Kate back to camp, Arthur realized he had just given away Dutch's whereabouts and Milton exposed their crimes to her. He had hoped she would be safe for a night or two at camp without knowing their true identities, but now, with everything at stake, he wrestled with the decision. The lives of his gang were paramount, but involving an innocent woman in their mess weighed heavily on his conscience. He would never force her, but with everything at stake now he hoped she would still come back with him. Or else she might go inform the authorities of their whereabouts.

“So, railway workers from the North huh?” Kate questioned, breaking him from his thoughts.

“If you’ll let me explain miss-” he started, unsure what was about to come out of his mouth.

With the revelation of Arthur's true identity and the dangers it presented, Kate found herself torn between fear and curiosity. While her instincts screamed at her to flee from these outlaws, there was an inexplicable pull towards Arthur. Despite the fear gnawing at her, she couldn't shake the connection she felt with him. There was something in his eyes, a vulnerability masked by his tough exterior, that resonated with her own struggles.

"I'll come with you," she said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling within her. "I've never been one to shy away from a little danger, and besides," she added with a wry smile, "I've always had a knack for finding trouble."

Arthur looked at her, a mixture of surprise and gratitude flickering in his eyes. He knew the risks she was taking by choosing to stand by him, but he also couldn't deny the feeling of relief that washed over him.

His gaze softened and he bent down to lift Jack up onto his saddle, “well, it’s getting late. Want to head back with us?”he asked, settling himself in behind the boy.

Kate nodded and answered, “I’d be happy to. Let me grab my things from camp and I’ll meet you back here,” she replied, gracefully mounting Lorena.

With those words, she cantered off downstream, disappearing into the fading light.

“Why did those men ask where Uncle Dutch is?” Jack questioned, his voice tinged with innocence.

“Because… well, those are disagreeable men. And they want to hurt Dutch.”Arthur explained, his tone grave.

“Like they hurt Mac?” Jack's voice was small, filled with concern.

Arthur hesitated, then replied, “Ahh don't worry about Mac, I’m sure he’s alright wherever he is. They were just trying to scare us is all,” he patted Jack's shoulder reassuringly., “the world is full of disagreeable men. That’s why you got all of us, to protect you from folk like them.”

“Is that why you invited Miss McCanon back to camp, to protect her from the bad guys too?” he asked innocently.

Arthur chuckled, masking his uncertainty. "Uh, yeah, something like that," he replied, the corners of his lips twitching. He wasn't sure why exactly he invited Kate to stay with him, sure, he didn't like the idea of her being alone in the cold. But why did he care? Something about the woman intrigued him, and it wasn't just her pretty horse.

Unexpectedly, Jack's voice piped up again. "Uncle Arthur, what does 'fuck' mean?"

Arthur's laughter bubbled up, realizing the boy listens more than he cares to let on. "It means your mother will slap me if she hears you say that word," he joked, relieved for the distraction.

At that moment, the steady beat of hooves announced Kate's return.

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #jack marston #rdr2 fanfic #fluff #angst #x reader #oc x canon

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internetgiraffekid1673 · 8 months ago

Text

I Had Miraculous Ladybug Thoughts, Specifically the Chloe Lila Alliance Situation, and I'm Making It Your Problem! I am So Sorry!

Just. Read the title of this post. I am the most biased person you could have on this topic. You've been warned.

Okay, so. Chloe. If you are in the ML fandom, first off, my condolences, we shall suffer together. Second off, you know that Chloe is incredibly divisive. On the one hand, she's an absolute a**hole to everyone around her at any point in the series that is not season 2 and parts of season 3. On the other hand, it is clear that she has no adults teaching her how to not be an a**hole or regulating her behavior because the only people who have the necessary authority should not have ever been parents.

And then you have that whole thing in season 2 where they started to explain her awfulness and gave her the bee miraculous and she started getting better and developing a support structure, and then she stopped being allowed to have the bee miraculous and dove headfirst off the deep end. This frustrates pretty much the entire fandom. On the Chloe hate side, you wonder why they were wasting time with this. On the Chloe love side, you just got baited, and you're annoyed as heck, and you also are wondering why they wasted your time with this.

But fine, okay, it's dumb, but whatever, the fanfiction can work with this. What the fanfiction has a MUCH harder time working with is Chloe and Lila forming an unholy alliance over their mutual hatred of Marinette and Ladybug. Because the problem here is, it's redundant, it doesn't make sense, and makes Lila even more of a Mary Sue.

Tangent warning: YEAH I SAID IT! I think Lila is a Mary Sue. You don't have to think that. My definition of a Mary Sue is "a character that warps the fabric of the story around them without it making any sense because the author likes/hates/pities/has other strong emotion about this character/ too much to care about a coherent narrative." Not everybody defines a Mary Sue this way, but by this definition, Lila is a Mary Sue. Everyone immediately loses their brain cells around her despite being compassionate and sometimes intelligent individuals who will kill for Marinette in most other scenarios. Nonsensical story warping just because the author said so. Tangent aside:

What this alliance does is it gives you two manipulative lying b*tches who willingly get akumatized to further their petty schemes and are out to destroy Marinette and Ladybug and are weirdly possessive of but don't actually seem to care for Adrien. There's really no point in having two. They occupy the same narrative niche and it is awkward and stupid and I DO NOT LIKE IT. Neither does most of the fandom it seems, because this alliance rarely appears in fanfiction.

There are a couple default solutions in fanfiction:

1. Redeem Chloe. I like this solution. I like Chloe, I think she's entertaining, and I think her interactions with other characters as a good guy are especially entertaining, I think she brings a lot of valuable skills and perspective to the cast as a good guy, I think she has a lot of reasons for being an a**hole that should be properly addressed, and I think the reasons her redemptipn arc got aborted were stupid. Most fanfiction goes the route of having redeemed Chloe viscerally hate Lila too, because Chloe goes after enemies with passion and her whole heart. This is a clean solution, but not great if you don't like Chloe all that much or are trying to make it canon compliant (best of luck to you, canon is all over the place).

2. Only focus on one as a villain and yeet the other out of the story. If Chloe is the villain, set the story during the time that Lila was off being Cerise or wandering around Paris or whatever, or before she showed up. If Lila is the villain, give Chloe an unrelated reason to decide she's not dealing with that today, thank you very much. Usually used in salt fics to dunk on whichever character grinds your gears more without unwanted interruptions. I like salt fics, and this is also a good clean solution. Having both of them is redundant, so just remove one. For Lila, it makes sense because she's a Mary Sue and writing her is annoying, so pretending she never existed is a great fix to that. For Chloe, it makes sense because "lying manipulative ladybug hating b*tch" only really starts being her archetype after the writers screwed up her character with a million inconsistincies. Before that, she was more of a "comically loud, bossy, really obssessive fangirl b*tch," so Lila just works better for certain plots. Downside is that you can't focus on Chloe-Lila interactions, and you sometimes have to do a bit of finagling to figure out how to remove them from a situation they would ordinarily be VERY invested in.

3. Make them hate each other. This is one of my favorite solutions because I have a weakness for villain rivalries that are equal parts comedic and dramatic, but bias aside, this absolutely works. They both want Adrien's sole, undivided attention, and, prior to aforementioned screwing over of Chloe's character, Chloe is the world's biggest Ladybug stan, and Lila is her number 1 hater. They also both have a weird power over the adults in the story that two 14 year old girls really shouldn't have. All these factors make it very easy to guess they would clash. Watch as they try to destroy each other! This plays into the "they both suck, but it's different flavors of suck," and makes those flavors mix BADLY together. The one downside is that it is hard to not make this the central focus of the story, because both of them are so over the top that they're absolutely going to drown out most other going ons, and this is technically supposed to be about Marinette and Adrien. It also erases some of the storylines you can get from an actually thought out alliance.

4. Redeem Lila. I have only seen this in one place, but it is a prominent place and that's more places than my suggestion on this whole ordeal. The prominent place being the Scarlet Lady AU by the very talented and lovely ZoeOneesame. Her take on it was basically:

"Chloe in this AU has the ladybug miraculous, and Chloe sucks at her job, so Lila's ladybug hatred is justified. Marinette is in love with Chat and isn't involved in the ladybug drama, so Lila has no reason to hate her. Adrien is both much smarter and much more active in this AU, so he wouldn't deal with Lila in the same hands-off way. Everybody else is also smarter in this AU and would probably know Lila was lying and also not care because they are forgiving and compassionate. So Lila's lies would most likely get called out, she would have the freedom and desire to figure out who she is beneath the lies, and she would have a justified hatred of Scarlet Lady matched by other characters in the AU, and would probably band together with them."

And thus, no filter, vindictive good guy Lila was born! Again, I have only seen this in Scarlet Lady, but it is amazing over there, so I had to talk about it. Redeeming Lila is an unconventional choice for sure, but I think if you arrange for circumstances where Lila would rather ally with the heroes than the villains, then you can get a lot of mileage out of her people-reading/manipulation skills helping out the heroes while possibly scaring the crap out of them at the same time. This has basically all the same downsides as the Chloe redemption though. It's not fun to do if you're here for Lila salt, and it's ABSOLUTELY not canon compliant.

Now. You may have noticed that nobody who writes fanfiction for this show does the canon Chloe-Lila alliance. This is for a myriad of aforementioned reasons: it's redundant, it continues the confusion of Chloe's character arc, and Lila is a Mary Sue, so anything that involves her tends to be frustrating. But, I think there is a way to make it work, so I'm writing about it.

First of all, don't do what canon did where 6 just have Lila teach Chloe how to lie. Take full advantage of the fact that they are two very different types of a**hole. They can ally for the same reasons: they both are super possesive of Adrien and are raging about him getting together with Marinette. And while I don't like the arc of Marinette being a trash and controlling guardian who shows inordinate favoritism to Alya and Zoe and literally nobody else because she's gay for them, you can still do that and have them both hate Ladybug too. I don't like that plot beat, mostly because it's never really addressed that Marinette is in fact a bad guardian outside of some light sulking from Chat, but it can work. She's a 14 year old girl in way over her head with no adults left to help (except the kwamis, but they don't really count because they are very unhelpful). It makes sense that she wouldn't do a good job at first. But whatever their reasons for teaming up, lean into the fact that Lila is a two-faced secretively awful person while Chloe is an in-your-face publicly awful person. From there, it depends on the tone you're going for.

Chloe is a great villain for humor because she's so loud and dramatic. She can get away with saying and doing really insane and rude stuff on the grounds that she's insane and rude (and also rich and powerful). People don't have any expectations for Chloe to be nice or rational, so she can do stuff like try and write a Queen Banana character into the class film and be met with annoyance and frustration rather than outrage and shock. So if you're going a lighthearted route, let Chloe be the one who does all the public legwork for their schemes, and let her be absolutely over the top about it.

On the other hand, Chloe can also be threatening in a far more tangible way than Lila. Lila can make people think you're a bit of a jerk, but it takes a lot of work for her to come close to getting Marinette expelled, even with all her Mary Sueness to help. Chloe can just look at the principal and say "My dad will fire you and remove all school funding if you don't expel her." Chloe won't make people dislike Marinette because nobody likes her, but she can physically hurt Marinette in ways that Lila can't. So if you're going for drama, you can lean into that. Chloe is in a completely different social class than everyone else and has actual power.

Either way, let Chloe be a complete drama queen who is publicly out to get Marinette, because there isn't anything anyone can do about it.

Meanwhile, let Lila work in the background. Lila has never been a comedic villain, only getting introduced after the show had taken a turn for the more dramatic, so don't bother. Leave that to Chloe's antics. Let Lila be the actual threat who is driving their plans. A lot of the reason Chloe was manageable while Lila never was is because Chloe's rage tends to be directionless and impulsive. She has a short temper that can easily be triggered, but also easily soothed, and she doesn't have any thought out plans or long form schemes. She just does whatever she thinks will make her happy in the moment. Have Lila be the one who convinces her to think in the long-term, and who comes up with an overarching plot to get rid of Marinette, adding a sense of real tension to the situation. Sure, before Chloe could have you expelled on a whim, but she also would have stopped bothering the second Adrien paid attention to her. Lila will help Chloe drop that boundary.

Lila also has the advantage of people actually liking her and being willing to do things for her without threatening or bribing them. Lila can do things like make it so Marinette doesn't have any of her friends around to help in an emergency. She can make it so people believe Chloe might actually be justified in her crusade against Marinette this time. She can plant seeds of doubt and distrust and she can socially isolate Marinette in ways Chloe can't. Make people love and believe in her instead, slowly destroy Marinette's support system, and so on. It not only is really dramatic and upsetting, it basically leaves Mari with just Adrien and Chat to rely on, which is FANTASTIC ship fuel if that's your jam. This can also let you have some other prominent characters come to the fore. Have some Kagami focus. Have some Luka focus. Bring in Socqueline and Felix and see how that changes things.

Point is, between these two, you could have a genuine, non-redundant threat that you can get emotional mileage out of. Lila is on one side turning all of Mari's friends against her and scheming to destroy her in the long term. Chloe is on the other side threatening Marinette's lifestyle---her bakery, her school, her fashion career, her public image, her existence in Paris---anything that can be damaged by the Mayor and the Style Queen is under attack. And then you have Hawkmoth on the other end, throwing akumas in her face and forcing her to make impossible choices. I would imagine Lila also gets akumatized on purpose whenever she needs a little extra help, while Chloe just gets egged on and pushed off the deep end by Lila whenever Lila thinks it'd be advantageous. So that trifecta is super genuinely threatening. But you can also have Chloe being a really stupid drama queen whose fits of rage can still be silly and poorly thought out, even with Lila helping her. And you can have some really heartwarming stuff as the people left in Marinette's support system band together and become even closer to get rid of these two once and for all. I just think this plot beat has a lot of untapped potential if the writers didn't make then fulfill the same narrative role, and I haven't really seen it explored yet.

Feel free to use this idea in fanfic, tell me that it sucks and would be bad, or ignore me, I mostly just needed to write this down!

If the mood strikes me or multiple people express interest (yeah right), I will make a (probably much shorter) post explaining how you can redeem both of them effectively and also why I think that would be bad in most circumstances.

Congratulations if you read this whole rant, now please go to sleep. Please. So much please.

#This got really long #the opposite of no regrets #all the regrets for making you read my unhinged ML thoughts #i think about this show too much for it to be healthy #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug rant #miraculous ladybug fanfic ideas #miraculous ladybug rewrite ideas #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption arc #chloe bourgeois villain arc #lila rossi #lila rossi as a better villain #lila rossi is a mary sue #fight me #seriously #I want to hear other people's thoughts and why you would think she isn't a mary sue #lila rossi redemption arc #how to make marinette dupain cheng's life hell #a beginner's guide #chloe lila alliance #chloe lila team up #oh gosh I didn't even talk about Sabrina #that's a whole other thing #idk how to tag stuff #ignore me and go to sleep #the fans write miraculous better every single time #giraffe's ramblings

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akashis-waifu · 9 days ago

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Excerpt from "Switch"

Chapter 3 of Beyond God and Evil (Aizen Sōsuke/Female Reader)

Canon-divergence set months after TBYW. Reader is the new Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough.

Tags: Romantic comedy, fluff and angst, enemies to old married couple, banter as love language, mutual pining, immortality, slow burn, political intrigue

“SO, why did you want to meet us?”

You ask with thinly veiled annoyance, facing forward and refusing to look at the man you’re addressing.

You are currently inside an underground establishment: a sacred hall that cannot be located in any map. In ancient times, it was where the leaders of the Five Great Noble Clans gathered to discuss matters of importance to Soul Society.

Seated on the head of the pentagonal table is Tsunayashiro Tokinada, and across him are Kuchiki Byakuya and Shihouin Yoruichi, occupying the chairs farthest from him. With you arriving last — mainly due to your reluctance to see the distasteful visage of your enemy — you are left with no other choice but to take the seat adjacent to the host.

Reveling in your murderous aura, Tokinada nonchalantly waves a hand and answers with a pompous grin. “Ah, just simple courtesies. As someone who was recently promoted, I thought it would only be proper of me to introduce myself as the new leader of the Four Great Noble Families.”

“But, before we cut to the chase,” he suddenly adds and turns to you. “May I ask where you have been for the past six months, Lady Hirasaka?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Unperturbed by your cold response, Tokinada continues. “You see, as the overseeing personnel of the Visual Department, it bothered me when I learned that the head of the Hirasaka could not be found in Seireitei. Thus, out of concern, I had some of my retainers search for you in Rukongai, the Living World, and even in Hueco Mundo. But you were nowhere to be found.”

“Concern,” you repeat while holding back a scoff. “I'm surprised that you are capable of such emotion, Lord Tsunayashiro.”

“Oh, believe me when I say I do! You are, after all, the favorite underclassman of my late wife.”

At the mention of Kakyo, you feel your blood boil, and the urge to evaporate the man on the spot almost overwhelms you. Aware that further engaging in conversations with him will lead you to committing murder, you will yourself to remain silent.

Meanwhile, Tokinada is impressed that you did not take the bait. Still, he perseveres in his mission of destroying your composure.

“Since you were nowhere to be found, I could only assume one place where you could have gone to. Somewhere not easily accessible — a place that is out of jurisdiction even for the Great Noble Families.”

You raise an eyebrow at his cryptic words.

“You were in Muken! Yes, that could only explain it!”

Tokinada claps in exaggerated eureka. “I mean, you were Aizen's personal bedwarmer, right? You must have been dying to shag him.”

Your vision must have blackened from unadulterated anger because the next thing you know, you already have your Inherited Zanpakuto released, the large scythe now hanging above his head.

“Do you want to die, Tsunayashiro Tokinada?”

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen x reader #tokinada tsunayashiro #it's bleach #AEOMG #haven't finished the chapter yet so here's a snippet #i love tokinada he is such a MENACE

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blushedfemmes · 3 months ago

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Can't message you rn cuz I'm shadow banned but just know you've got mutuals out here who desperately wanna be your prey

noooo omg this is tragic <////3

tumblr let my preymutuals message me…. i’ve set out bait specifically for them !!!!!

#clarke answers #grrrr #pinning you under my claws anon 😘

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mantisgodsdomain · 3 months ago

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It's not Dan's worldbuilding it's mine.

Hello, random person in our inbox. We are fairly certain that this is bait, as we cannot think of any other reason that you would be... in our inbox, writing extremely accusatory asks about our fiance stealing worldbuilding, of all things?

You are

1: Someone we don't know, appearing in our inbox without previous context or provocation in order to give us a message that one of the people that we know has Done Something That Is Bad.

2: Carrying highly emotionally charged, extremely unspecified accusations towards said someone - with wording that treats it as though you, personally, have been wronged, and it's this guy who did it.

3: Thus, by extension, setting us in a position where we either have to rebuke you - thus making it so that we will appear as someone further attacking the victim, and making it easier for you to build a case for yourself being directly attacked even if there was no initial wrongdoing, as receiving backlash for randomly accusing someone's friend of (theft???) can still read as a direct attack on you framed correctly, especially if removed from context.

Ignoring the core narrative of stolen worldbuilding(???) (which we can be extremely confident is untrue, as the... main thing that we do together, 50% of the time, is brainstorming and refining writing and worldbuilding), the fact that you are running to someone else's inbox to ferrt an accusation, thus making it so that even if there is additional context it is likely that at least some people on our dash will only see the initial ask (not to mention negativity bias making it so that any accusation, even disproved, is likely to permanently tar an image), makes this some extremely obvious rage bait - if not for us, then for our followers, to make it so that us answering this ask will ferry the accusation to people.

The accusatory angle, we will note, tends to be somewhat uncommon on this site - most of the time, these sorts of asks are sent through anon, generally as someone positioning themself as a "concerned follower" who has "heard of" X mutual doing some manner of unspecified wrongdoing, thus making it so that the deliberately unverifiable vague accusation.

If this is intentional bait, it has most likely been sent to multiple of our other mutuals in order to make this unspecified accusation stick - as the more people hear an accusation, the more likely they are to believe it, as it now appears to be coming from multiple sources, even if only sent from one asker. It is also somewhat incompetent, as it opens the door to us asking what the wrong was, as you would most likely have information on it, if it was real. You are also sending this off anon - which, granted, might have been a mistake on your part, but opens you up to questioning and poking at your story even more, and also people a name and face to block if you make an ass of yourself.

The utter incompetence of this angle, we will note, is the one point that puts doubt on this being bait - why would you send us an accusation that we can look to you, or ask Dan about, or even just ask someone else about - but with this sort of ask, sometimes just one ask is enough, as the nature of context collapse on the internet means that this ask can be used to spur emotions in a potentially very large number of people, even without supporting evidence.

As with any misinformation, an accusation of any sort can stick at the back of one's mind even without supporting evidence, creating a little bit of doubt - sure, that one ask was nonsense, but you just feel like they were in some sort of drama, you know? Something wrong, something problematic about them. This can also subtly socially isolate the target, as with the primary purpose of callout posts - no one wants to associate with a... thief? plagarizer? (we can't tell what you're going for here) and as such the target will struggle more to find friends in the future, as well as reach anywhere with any of their own artistic endeavors.

This lack of clarity, accusatory tone, and direct finger pointing is what leads us to call it bait, albeit some remarkably weak bait. It could, of course, be intended for us, in order to try and make us make an ass of ourself by acting defensive - but there are a lot of statements that you could make that would work better for this if this were anything but a boilerplate message sent out to people interacting with Dan. We give is a 17/100 on the scale of bait.

If this isn't bait: man, what are you doing here, we don't know what you're talking about and you haven't told us anything to point us towards what you're mad about. if we don't turn up anything from asking around the mutuals we're blocking you for being a dick.

EDIT: Mutuals have gotten back to us. Although our initial impressions of your extremely inflammatory messages to our partner initially lead us to believe you were mad because our partner reblogged your worldbuilding, period, it appears that you are mad because we reblogged a joke post with some of your worldbuilding in it and you took our "dan is this u" tag as some sort of admission that our partner was directly plagarizing your stuff. Also, you've been a huge dick to him for no reason. This is likely not to be intentional bait, but we will still be blocking you, because we think you and your weirdly accusatory asks suck.

#asks #we speak #negative chatter #you realize we've been spending the past two years trying to tell people they can take our shit without issue if they want right #we actively encourage taking our characters and concepts. we would be absolutely fucking thrilled if someone used a map of ours #the fact that you will yell at people for having tags that “read like coyly admitting to stealing your world” is just asshole behavior #get out of our house

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raayllum · 2 years ago

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like i’m used to having unpopular fandom opinions (which, in most fandoms, has boiled down to either 1. actually liking the canon content or 2. seeing the fault lines years ahead of time and then being disappointed but not surprised when shit goes off the rails), it does not bother me.

but it does baffle me how butt hurt i’ve seen people get over CHET. calling me and others who enjoy the theory dumb, or that it’s a theory for “gimmicky hacks” and would ruin the show if it happened (end quote), or that it’s completely misconstruing canon or built entirely off theme (as though tdp isn’t deeply thematic, anyway) or that my track record of predictions is terrible (it isn’t; i’d say it’s surprisingly good overall but like with any amount of theorizing, there’s definitely plenty of misses too and just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks).

and i’m not going to counter any of that by saying it’s 100% - or even 20% likely - to be canon because as i’ve also said many, many times, it might not be. maybe the key isn’t even something aaravos wants. maybe callum still does something under possessive coercion. maybe none of it comes back in s5 and it’s saved for book 6: stars, instead. maybe the key is only on rayla’s shoulder in 4x02 to emphasize stella’s connection to the star primal. maybe rayla and aaravos’ foil relationship doesn’t go further than setting them up as callum’s two, mutually exclusive paths. maybe CHET does happen but it’s not about freeing aaravos, thus knocking it down a peg thematically with the “freeing” motif.

and it’s not as though CHET doesn’t let callum figure out and even use the cube. he’ll have to put the pieces together (literally), it could have more than one purpose, and there could be an arc of reclaiming it (making it actually his key, as opposed to aaravos’, which would really fit with themes of ownership and well, reclamation and progress). maybe callum’s curiosity / paranoid pursuit of magic is what leads to rayla being in aaravos’ clutches in the first place, if you really want to reaffirm those 1x04 parallels; maybe both his best friend and his brother are in harm’s way.

but it’s like. even if the pieces don’t fall this way, CHET is 1) still the only theory i’ve seen, 2.5+ years in, that actually answers the questions of what the key is, how it may be used, and how it may operate in Callum’s arc other than giving him some kind of magical power up, 2) accurately tailored itself to the game motif that s4 made more overt, and more than that, a game that Callum is destined to lose, 3) accurately tailored itself ahead of time to the light and dark motif in Callum and Rayla’s arcs, and 4) all the set up like

“I smashed your primal stone.” “Accidents happen.” “On purpose.” “I’m sure you had a good reason.” “I did, I really did!” (2x02) / “But Rayla, the whole world is like a giant primal stone.” (2x09) / “Guess it wouldn’t be the first time I accidentally on purpose destroyed a rare magical artefact.” (4x02)

This is the game room. Cube should be in there. / You wait here for a minute, couple minutes. However long it takes, I’ll go find a key. / [Insert Rayla being shown as a toy] / It’s a toy, probably a piece from a children’s game. I hope it was worth it to you, putting everyone else’s lives in danger. (1x04) / It’s a glow toy (1x05) / [Becomes a literal glow in 4x04] / “He said it was a key, but a key to what?” “You practicing magic, or are you losing to Bait at a game of rolly-cubes?” (2x07) / [Callum with the cube as a literal game piece] / Already tainted by darkness, and destined to play right into my hands. (4x04) / They aren’t games. They’re tests. (TDP shorts) / But violence tests us. In a twisted way, it converts us to its cause. (4x03) / Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. (2x09)

The way the 1x04 inversion (Rayla gets taken, boys rescue her, she finds the cube / Rayla gets taken, boys rescue her, Callum gives up the cube) is even more on track with Kim’Dael being in S5 and presumably the reason elves are seen as bloodthirsty in the first place.

Callum’s bio in Tales of Xadia, a text that also mentions Leola, the Great Bookery of Lux Aurea (both now featured in S5) and the Flowers of Elarion (one of the only mentions of Elarion in the entire material, including “a fair exchange of beloved for beloved”) literally stating that he “value[s] those close to him more than anyone or anything” and that he’s “beholden to his inner circle, not some silly kingdom”

Callum facing a “his loved ones or the world” conflict being one of the most common dilemmas that heroes face like, ever (Luke Skywalker, Aang, the Matrix, just to name a few), even disregarding the fact that TDP loves a good trolley problem ( “We kill one monster to save a hundred thousand people” “You keep calling it a monster” / “You let him live and you killed us all” / “You have two choices: you all die or just the evil, wretched human dies” / “I had to. I couldn’t let him hurt you”).

The fact that exchange is intrinsic to the series, down to the transactional root of dark magic and the kids working to bring Zym home to his mother, hopefully, in exchange for peace, and is also the conceptual catalyst for Arc 2 with Claudia working to free Aaravos in exchange for him permanently reviving Viren.

That it is increasingly unlikely that Callum will be able to avoid playing into Aaravos’ hands eventually and the key (and the game) being directly linked to that, and absolutely none of this is even touching on Callum’s parallels to Viren or that it’s been heavily hinted in interviews that Aaravos, an elven mage, was in love with a human and his main incentive for being evil is that he Lost them

Like I don’t know if Callum is going to run away to try and avoid hurting the people he loves in S5; he might try, and if he does I think it would be a one episode plot line because then he and Rayla would be having the same behavioural issues and the same corresponding arc, which could really be work or be too cluttered for what the reason wants to do. I don’t know if Callum will be forced to join team bad guy under possession or some other coercion by the end of S5.

I lean towards no for both of those things, simply because for the first I feel like Callum will have enough of his own differentiated plot line going on, and for the second, while that would provide Callum potential (if not under possession) conversations with Aaravos, I feel like Callum’s major focus in S6-S7 will have to be connecting to other arcanum and possibly helping other people do the same. Those would be trickier to maintain if he’s separated from the main group (who then has to devote time to getting him back) as well as I feel like him and Aaravos’ thematic face off is stronger if Aaravos does underestimate Callum, and doesn’t think he’s legitimately special, and is then proven wrong because, well... “Your arrogance is so predictable.”

But again, I’m not saying that they couldn’t happen. Not saying there’s no base for it now or that one couldn’t be introduced by any means; TDP is very good at balancing reliable set up and pay off and also providing plenty of surprise curveballs along the way. Unless it is something that the show has made exceedingly obvious, like its portrayal of dark magic (which you can disagree with how its portrayed by all means, but you still gotta be cognizant of how the show has always presented it even if you disagree with the why) I think it’s perhaps not arrogant, but mean spirited to decide that you definitively know what is or what’s not going to happen and what theories are valid or even ‘okay’ for fans to enjoy.

And if my theory is so Obviously wrong, why always take time to discredit it? Why talk about it at all? Because you personally dislike me, or because other people talk about it and you resent that it’s popular? Trust me, I get having fanon theories that drive you up a wall, especially when they’re prevalent, but those are ones that 1) have multiple canon scenes and whole-ass plot lines literally contradicting the popular fanon headcanon (hi the “nobody helps Katara with chores except Zuko” HC that was disproven 2 seasons before he joined the gaang) or 2) are the equivalent to me positing that Callum should die and that Ellis will obviously come back and be our primary mage character, for Some Reason.

And if it’s not that, I think you can cool your jets, just a bit. Cause I would be amazed and delighted to be wrong because that just means the show is going in a fun, expected direction, but I know there are people whose tiny little heads would explode with anger or embarrassment if I’m right, and ‘shockingly enough’ I don’t actually root for other people to be mad or upset over what happens in fanon or canon. There’s enough bullshit out there without that, thank you very much

#y'know cause i'm an adult. with a job. doing this in my free time to have fun #fandom nonsense #cube hostage exchange theory #no idk why i gained capitalization halfway through either #long post

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