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gazstations · 19 days ago

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Hi Ivy!

I wanted to poke your brain to see if you’d write a Soap x Soap’s darling Reader that is desperately and deeply insecure.

From first impressions, Soap is kinda a happy go lucky dude. Cavalier and smart and… hot. Even if he’s not someone’s particular taste, they can’t help but admit he’s an attractive fellow. He’s charming and loud and funny and flirty. Reader, like everyone else, falls head over heels in love with him. Unlike everyone else, Reader falls head over heels in love with him.

Idk if you want to make this a the two get together in the end, or that they’re together in the beginning but Reader has to overcome her insecurities or anxieties, but the crux of it is Soap loves on Reader, Reader is shy but tries to love on him too, but Reader can’t help but feel like the other shoe will drop. She’s so scared. Look at him making friends with another group of strangers at a bar. Look at all the conventionally beautiful, slim, feisty or cooing women giving him heart eyes. Look at her - she feels downright dour; her hair is frayed from her nerves being frayed, her clothes don’t sit right ever, she barely put on makeup, she’s naturally funny but when she tries to tell a joke it has no punchline, she’s various degrees of anxious and depressed, and... Soap can have anyone. He can have everyone. Even if she’s with him, she feels so deeply ungrounded. It’s not even just sex. Soap has had purely sexual relationships but also long fruitful relationships from beautiful feisty women to sweet innocent women, and isn’t it natural to just see someone modelesque hanging off his arm? Soap wasn’t shallow; they all had personalities. This is Reader’s cross to bear, but gdi if it wasn’t embarrassing.

Reader doesn’t know what he sees in her, but Reader knows that one day he’ll snap out of it and leave her, and she’ll be utterly broken forever, so there’s a part of her she can’t give him, can’t open up to him. And he knows. Because Soap is perceptive and empathetic and intuitive. Soap can’t quite crack her, thinks it might be insecurity or inexperience but didn’t know it ran that deeply, didn’t know she needed reassurance like oxygen.

Soap finds out, is devastated Reader was going through all this alone, and they get a happy ending once the conflict is resolved. I’m sorry I must demand a happy ending to this. 😉

Maybe Soap crashes and burns - Reader, why do you think so highly of everyone but yourself? I love your personality. I love your body. If you don’t, we can help you change it. You are so beautiful. Guys - and girls if you hadn’t notice - literally do a double take when they see you. I want you to be happy. Healthy and happy. Baby, my Bonnie girl, let’s help you feel better about yourself. 🥹🥺🥺

Cry with me! Fluff with me! Angst with me! ✨💗✨

You gave me so much detail I am in love. Also, this hits so close to home with a situation I am in rn. Loverboy gets everyone, has money, and apparently he likes me so????? Yes, I can absolutely write this because good lord I have a lot of content, lol.

I love that you demanded a happy ending because my brain would’ve wanted to watch the world burn. Hehe. You guys gotta reel me in sometimes. Or else people are gonna go awol and die or something.

All my asks are always about Soap. I love the Soap nation for just making me a Soap fanfic writer at this point, lol.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap cod #call of duty x female reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap call of duty #cod soap #ivy asks soap

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jtl07 · 5 months ago

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Genre: Historical romance

Location: Ocean

Object: a 2024 Volkswagen Golf GTI

i WILL break shenanigans

GDI NO YOU WON'T !!!!! we're all very mature and not at all stubborn here lol <3 i know nothing of historical fiction so forgive me for the meandering opening, but also thank you for helping me stretch and try new things and i will stop rambling now okbye

Beautiful, is what Beatrice thinks as she watches the sun set over the water, the ocean welcoming the gold into its arms. It's not the first time she's thought it, here; but it was the first time she'd thought it- here, at this shore, watching a sunset like this one, listening to the world quiet and soften into evening.

But unlike that time, the person who'd taught her to see it, who'd challenged so much of what she'd been taught, what she thought she knew - about life, about living, about love - isn't here.

Beatrice isn't surprised - she's not even disappointed. Resigned, yes. To a fate that she's known since she was young: a duty to her family, to her title, to a legacy larger than she. She knows all the reasons why she must leave. And yet. She finds herself lingering. Lingering until the sun's last gasp of light disappears from the horizon. Until gold gives way to darkness.

Beatrice gets to her feet, brushes the sand from her suit, the same one she'd worn when Ava had laughed and pulled her into the waves of this very same beach, a night that seems like years ago instead of days; Ava had laughed that laugh that always leaves Beatrice entranced, had danced and pulled her in close, had cupped her face and looked at Beatrice's lips when she'd called her handsome.

Beatrice sighs, coaxes the memory of that night into the back of her mind as gently as she can. Locks it away. It won't do to remember, now. Not when the morning after that night she'd been greeted by the news of her father's death and her family's summons back home.

She straightens. Nods to herself. She's wasted too much time. This - the silence, the dark, the loneliness creeping back into her heart - is her sign. She's waited (hoped, dreamed) long enough.

Beatrice turns from the ocean. In the morning, she'll wake before dawn and board the ship that will take her home, and she'll leave this Beatrice behind. The Beatrice that knew Ava; the Beatrice that loved Ava, here.

A sound too sharp to be the crashing of waves grabs Beatrice's attention. She's reminded suddenly that is alone and unarmed.

The sound grows. She sets her stance.

A flash of eerie blue light appears, splitting the space in front of her, a hole ripped through the air. Through it appears a contraption Beatrice has never seen before, a carriage of metal, roaring like some mechanical wild animal, and Beatrice has to jump back to avoid getting run over as it leaps through through the air and lands, sliding wildly on the sand.

Just as abruptly as it appeared, the light disappears. Leaving Beatrice and the machine, stuttering, grumbling, shaking. Finally, it too stills.

Then -

"Beatrice!"

Her arms are full before she even registers fully who it is. Not that Beatrice had to guess - there's only one person in the world who would throw themselves into Beatrice's arms this way, who burrows into her neck this way, who trusts her this way.

"Ava," she breathes (a miracle, a sign). Holds her closer.

"Oh my god, Bea, you're alive, Bea," Ava chokes out as she pulls back just enough to hold Beatrice's face in her hands. "You're still alive, thank god."

"Of course I'm alive," Beatrice says slowly. Feels her confusion grow as she takes in Ava fully: the terror and relief carved deep onto her face; the cut of her hair, shorter than it was just a day ago; clothes Beatrice has never seen on her before, of a style she's never seen ever. "Ava, what's happened? What is all this -" she runs her palms along the stiff fabric of her jacket; gestures to the machine over Ava's shoulder "- what is that?"

"It's a time travel machine," Ava answers without ever looking away from Beatrice. "I had to help Dr. Salvius make it. We tried to get a DeLorean but apparently something about the 2024 Volkswagen Golf GTI - not the 2023, that one almost blew us up - makes it work just as well -"

"Ava, I don't think I understood half the words that just came out of your mouth."

"Right." Ava shakes herself. Starts again. "The thing that matters is that Dr. Salvius was able to make it work, see? I'm here, now." Ava smiles, victorious. But just as quickly, her expression turns serious and her hands move from Beatrice's face to her shoulders. "Bea. You can't get on that ship."

Beatrice sighs. She doesn't want to spend their last night together rehashing the same argument they've had for nearly a week now. "Ava, please -"

"No, I mean it, Bea."

"- let's not do this now -"

"- there's going to be a terrible storm -"

"- storms happen all the time at sea -"

"- this one will be different, Bea!" The tremor in Ava's voice makes Beatrice pause; it's the horror in Ava's eyes that makes Beatrice uncertain. "The whole ship will go down," Ava says, eyes distant, voice quiet and uninflected. "No one will survive."

Beatrice swallows. Tries for logic. "You can't possibly know that -"

"I do! I saw it!" Ava's hands tighten to a painful degree but Beatrice lets her holds on, knows Ava needs it by the way her whole body shakes. "I saw you dead. We had a funeral and it was beautiful and you were dead. Beatrice -" Ava slumps forward and Beatrice shifts instantly to catch her, leads them both gently to kneel on the sand. Feels Ava's hands clutch at her as she sobs into Beatrice's chest. "Please, Beatrice. Don't make me go through that. Not again."

Beatrice hums at her softly, holds her close. She's unable to truly comprehend all of what Ava's said in the last few minutes, but Beatrice understands this: the desperation that's taken hold of Ava, the lies she's promised to never tell.

She fits the words together, plays them back as facts. Thinks of the ship, thinks of the life she's never really wanted.

So when Ava's sniffles start to settle, Beatrice pitches her voice low and asks, "What would you have me do?"

Beatrice feels Ava lift her head, finds herself looking into eyes shining from tears grieving a woman still alive; from the wonder of being believed. Ava glances over their shoulders to the machine - the time travel machine - behind them. She shifts onto her knees, takes Beatrice's hand between her own. Takes in a deep breath and says: "Come with me.

"We could go anywhere, any place, at any time - any year. We could go to the Alps and actually talk to those novelists you're always saying you'd like a word with. We could go to the future and dance and drink - anything you'd like. Anywhere.

"Would you?" Ava asks, faltering slightly.

Beatrice looks over at the machine, almost glowing in the darkness that's settled around them. Hears the waves crashing steady onto the shore. Hears the breath Ava takes in and holds; recognizes the sound of hope.

Beatrice sifts through the information Ava has laid at her feet. "You said the ship was destroyed in the storm?"

Ava nods. "Yes. There were no survivors." A helpless look passes over her face, travels down to her shoulders as a shrug. "Yours was one of the few bodies they were able to recover."

"And all of those who were never found were assumed dead." A multitude of scenarios play out simultaneously in Beatrice's mind, a web of ifs and thens, of futures suddenly possible. "So even if they didn't find my body -" feels Ava's hands tighten around hers and knows Ava's following the thread.

Beatrice takes in a breath and holds it just as Ava did, the way Ava has taught her. She looks into Ava's eyes, shining with the same hope she knows is in her own. "Ask me again."

A smile is already growing on Ava's face. "Beatrice," she says, breathless at first, then strengthening with every word. "If I left, would you come with me?"

The words are barely out of Ava's mouth before Beatrice has hers there in answer. "Yes," Beatrice says into the kiss, smiling into Ava's lips, "Yes, I would." Kisses her again and holds her close. "I will."

#writing shenanigans with jt #i will admit this just about broke my brain dude #fun as heck though to puzzle through it #avatrice #idek what to tag this as lol #time travel au #i guess??

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theharmonious13 · 5 months ago

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I was so excited and hyped after watching the official channel's walkthrough of Chapter 1 daily life I went to Tumblr immediately to purposefully spoil myself of the trial and who the killer was. I haven't actually watched the investigation/trial yet.

Before I checked though, I thought the killer would be Wenona. Big surprise though (sarcastic), it was not her. With her talent and personality, I thought the blackmail/secrets motive would be devastating for her chances of survival (as for not attending the gaming tournament). And yes, despite what every official and non-official Danganronpa source has taught me, I chose to ignore how convenient the gaming event alibi was for all of the attendees involved. Also who knew that predicting based off of vibes would lessen the chances of a correct guess.

WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE EVA???

She was one of my favourites, and I thought she would get a redemption arc gdi

I thought she and Wolfgang would make it to Chapter 5 easily as they're both prominent characters, the fact they BOTH die chapter 1 is devastating. Well done to the creator's for defying expectations. Although now that they're both gone Chapter 2 onwards is going to feel like Damon and the B cast 😂. (I do love the other characters, but I hope you get what I mean).

Eva's SO pretty, the most beautiful character of the whole cast and I will fight people on that. I love how tragic her backstory is, and her convoluted yet justifiable reasons for why she acts the way she does. I am already automatically drawn to stoic and mysterious characters, but became even more fascinated with her when I learnt Eva feels the role of Ultimate Liar fits her, and that she felt she had to create an intimidating title to survive the killing game.

At first I was disappointed that Eva's talent ended up being something as lame sounding as the Ultimate Mathlete instead of the badass title of Ultimate Liar, but in a way that generic reaction helped strengthen her character her me. That's what she was afraid of, judgement, and the majority of the cast/audience immediately thought less of her the moment that crucial piece of information was revealed. I correctly predicted in that pharmacy scene that Eva was trying to get the other student's not to look at her profile, and was amused when proven right.

I can't wait to finish watching the rest of Chapter 1 to get all of the plot and character interactions.

#Project Eden's Garden #p:eg #Project Eden's Garden Spoilers #p:eg spoilers

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nein-pirate-lords · 3 months ago

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the four times they didn't, and the one time they did

i learned that it was oc kiss week and i refused to miss it gdi, have these hopeless d&d lesBIans

this takes place in a "canon" world, but both characters are OC's - one is an OC interpretation of a canonical figure. it's also long. so brace yourselves. xD

google docs version

one. first

The first time Ariadne Brenacia saw Lady Marilei Julianne Vessar de Rolo, she’d wondered what it might be like to kiss her.

It’s a horrible errant thought for a young acolyte cleric to have, only nineteen years old, standing in the crowds of her very first Highsummer Festival in Whitestone. The thrumming energy of the city is like a hum in her veins, as her dark eyes take in the splendor of the Sun Tree and the decorations that hang from it. A cup of summer-ripened wine is clasped half-full in her hand, her stomach full of vegetable skewers and freshly baked bread, and Ariadne finds that smiling is easy on such a day.

Maybe it’s the wine, or simply the drunken feeling of warm sunlight dancing across her skin, flashing from her newly received holy symbol, but when the noble family of Whitestone makes their appearance amidst a group of guards that sweep them through the main square-

Ariadne catches little more than a glimpse, but she sees an elegant young woman stride by with fair skin and a head of dark hair streaked to one side with white. She walks in sync with her family’s blue and gold, an ornamental golden band around her neck, and there is no mistaking her as the scion of the city’s leading family. It’s funny how much Ariadne can notice even in the briefest of seconds, from the heiress’ high cheekbones to her sharp blue eyes brimming with something that Ariadne recognizes.

The thought flashes by, and Ariadne’s stomach clenches in horror.

She should have known that joining one of the other acolytes who’d grown up here at a brothel had been a bad idea.

Ariadne hadn’t solicited any services, of course- She’d had one mug of ale (she’d been too flabbergasted to order anything else and it had tasted terrible) and had escaped by awkwardly slipping out into the night the second that one of the courtesans had started paying attention to her.

But there’d been a couple, a pair of women, and whether or not one of them was a customer Ariadne had not known- but the way their bodies had been pressed together, arms-

That is not to say that Leonie and Ezil’tah had never kissed in front of her; in fact, they’d done it all the time, and found little ways to express their partnership that Ariadne had recognized as their being very much in love. Perhaps it had just been one of those instances where Ariadne had never really thought about it being her, about being on the receiving end of a kiss, of someone’s affection-

Why she has that thought now of all times, she isn’t entirely sure. In fact, she can’t help but feel slightly ill at her own precociousness. It’s the wine. It’s definitely the wine. She doesn’t drink any more of it.

Long ago, she had learned that she wasn’t worthy of anything as good and glowing as that, the night she had been left on a cobblestone street without a home that would allow her back within its doors. She needed to remember her place.

This visceral reaction, all from a look. All from a simple, wayward whisper of a daydream about kissing a beautiful young woman.

two. forbidden

It’s a stolen moment, staring up at the stars.

Eighteen years later, Ariadne Brenacia and Marilei de Rolo stand along the cliff-sides in Zephrah, their breath barely misting in the air as they look up at the night sky and talk about fathers and possibility. Their bellies are warm with food and drink, the faint light the doorway to her mothers’ house just barely warming their backs.

There is much still ahead of them, and if Ghost is well enough to travel tomorrow…

Marilei murmurs from beside her, “It’s getting cold. We should probably head back in.”

The question is on the tip of her tongue, a request to stay, before Ariadne relents to her own misgivings. “I think I’ll stay out here a little longer. Enjoy the quiet for a bit.”

She shouldn’t think it’s beautiful when Marilei offers her a small smile.

There’s a brief pause. What for, Ariadne doesn’t know. Until-

Ariadne very nearly jumps out of her skin when Marilei’s hand, gentle as a butterfly, falls to her shoulder. It rests there for only a moment, before the heiress squeezes. A small gesture. But one that makes a flood of warmth surge through Ariadne in a way she wishes she could deny.

“Good night, Ariadne.”

When Ariadne looks to her, she can’t help but suck in the smallest of breaths. Words are lost on her, if only for a moment, before all she can do is nod, and offer a small smile back.

Unbidden, her eyes flicker towards Marilei’s lips just before the other woman smiles and releases her shoulder, and heads back towards the house to retire for the evening.

What in the name of the Dawnfather had she even been thinking? It was pointless, ridiculous, to even be entertaining those kinds of thoughts at all. Had it not only been a day since they’d re-established that Marilei, first and foremost, had been their employer? Still was, technically, by most definitions of the word? And not only that, she was a Lady of Whitestone, where Ariadne could barely call herself a simple member of staff at a temple.

She is in Marilei’s employ. Maybe a friend. That was all she ever could be.

It ought to be, is, forbidden to think otherwise.

three. caught.

Ariadne had caught one too many glimpses.

In the aftermath of the drink, she wonders if she doesn’t wish she could have its blissful warmth if only for a moment more, just to bask in the glow of holding Marilei’s hand in hers.

Her hand still burns where she’d grasped it, but not in an unpleasant way. Ariadne can’t help but flex her fingers as she looks down to it, now alone in her fancy dormitory room that the Pansophical had given them. The stress, and the horror, of what they had gone through in the past twenty-four hours all but melts away in the presence of Marilei in her thoughts, so Ariadne clings to it with more strength than she should.

“Are you going to be alright in the morning?”

Marilei’s question had inspired a scrambling silence in Ariadne, as she’d struggled to find the right words to say.

In horror, Ariadne realizes that she had almost blurted out a request, blurted out a blatant flirt, in almost inviting Marilei to find out for herself. Or maybe even just an ask for a goodnight kiss, something, anything-

Instead, she’d only chuckled.

“I’ll be here in the morning, one way or the other.”

“I know you will be.”

So steadfast. And that smile-

Ariadne knows better.

Had she been caught in her affections, or had she caught Marilei in hers? She dwells on that question, stews in it, and comes to a conclusion that she isn’t sure she likes.

Because she’s fairly certain it’s both.

And that… makes things so much more complicated.

four. desperate. No. No.

Her vision had clouded over in red, the moment that Marilei had fallen. A hot, feral rage had washed over her, one that hadn’t even struck her when she’d found her own mother’s body- no. This wrong had an immediate target, an immediate source of vengeance, and Ariadne had not even thought twice about it. Claws had dug into that devil’s throat, as she slammed her to the ground and hissed in her ear as necrotic magic seeped from her fingertips and dissolving into Marilei’s killer’s skin.

Thank the gods that the diamonds worked.

Ariadne’s hands had shaken as she pressed the gems into Marilei’s unmoving, bloodied chest. How many opportunities had she wasted, how many moments had she squandered? She could not, would not, accept Marilei’s eyes remaining blank, her body staying cold. No. She needed to see her smile again, needed to hear her laugh again-

“You’re okay,” she whimpers to the air, to the diamond, as she frantically grasps for the same holy magics that had just obliterated their enemies. She needed it now to heal, to bring her back, please, Dawnfather, bring her back- “You’re okay, you’re okay.” The magic hums beneath her skin as there’s a brief glow beneath her hands. Ariadne tries not to get sick at how her own hands are smeared red with Marilei’s blood.

When Marilei sucks in a breath as her soul is plucked from oblivion, Ariadne almost cries right then and there.

Her hands rapidly smooth Marilei’s hair back as she helps her up, pulls her to a sitting position and eventually to her feet. There’s still a battle to be won, but right now, in this moment, there is only one thing that matters.

It takes more self-restraint than it should to keep herself from pressing her lips to the Lady of Whitestone’s.

Later, in the quiet of battle’s aftermath, as she helps clean Marilei off and see to the cursed wounds that whip had left-

Her hands tremble for a couple of different reasons, as she gently applies the balm to Marilei’s throat.

The distant look in Marilei’s eyes, the soft tremble to her words, is not something that is going to go away easily. First and foremost, Ariadne is a healer, and she can see that as easily as she can see the sunlight beginning to seep in through the flaps of their tent.

Now is not the time. Marilei needs to heal.

But there is a fear in Ariadne now that she can’t push away. A worry that, not even two nights later, has her knocking on the Lady’s door if only to sleep in the same room, sleep where she can hear Marilei breathing and where she can be of help if the Lady needs some kind of protection in the night.

Ariadne does not know how many more opportunities she can allow to pass her by.

FIRST.

“Come with me.”

Ariadne looks up from where she sits dejected on the floor, knees curled defensively in front of her, to see that Marilei had pushed herself to her feet, and an elegant hand is extended towards her in an offer to help her up too.

Instinctively, she wants to take that hand, wants to slide her palm against the Lady of Whitestone’s- but both of her hands stay firmly clasped to her shins. Something about it feels too forward, too presumptive, and she-

She can’t. Her eyes fall to a small scuff mark in the inn room’s wooden floor.

“Ariadne. Please?”

Fuck. Ariadne breathes through her nose before blinking and looking back up at Marilei. She can’t deny her anything.

“Where are we going?” she asks, the question hardly more than a hoarse croak against all the tears she’d just shed. It should be shameful, that part of her still wonders whether or not Marilei has grown sick and tired of the increasing displays of emotion. Perhaps the Lady doesn’t want to go anywhere at all, and simply wants to bring her to a mirror to see the shame in her tears. Ariadne would deserve it, maybe, if she did.

But she knows that isn’t what this is.

She’s already moving to put her hand in Marilei’s before the Lady has even answered her.

“Just to get some fresh air.” Marilei’s smile is intoxicating, kind, gentle. Understanding. Ariadne thinks not for the first time that she’s too kind. Her grip is warm and steady as she easily pulls the winged cleric to her feet. “The gods know I’ve had to make my fair share of escapes from feeling like the world is too heavy on my shoulders. I know a place or two.”

It’s impossible not to trust her.

Marilei allows her a couple of sweeps of Prestidigitation, (“You look fine, Ariadne-“), albeit with a slightly bemused smile, before gently drawing her towards the door and leading her downstairs through the tavern proper before heading out into the early evening air. Ghost and Rigby are still gone, and Ariadne can only hope that they haven’t gotten into any trouble-

But it’s also easy to lose worries when she can’t help but swim in the blue eyes that watch her every movement. Ariadne is also acutely aware that their hands are still interlocked as Marilei begins to lead her down the city streets.

A gentle breeze sweeps across them, cool against Ariadne’s skin and refreshing as it ruffles through the feathers of her wings (when had she gotten used to them?) - the air here is not as crisp or cool as it would be in Zephrah, or Whitestone, but it’s refreshing to breathe in all the same.

There is a significant part of her still… processing. Reeling. She hadn’t meant for the confrontation with Renalda to get so out of control, to venture so far into- Her throat closes as everything that was said begins to circulate again, as she remembers-

“Marilei?”

The taller woman pauses, and looks back to her. The streets here are quiet, and they’re in a half-alleyway, the shadows of the evening enveloping them in a semblance of privacy.

Ariadne has trouble getting words out around the lump in her throat.

“Promise me that I won’t ruin your life.”

Marilei immediately tilts her head as a concern washes over her expression - she blinks. “Ariadne-“

“I’m-“ No. No. She’s doing this now? “I know that there’s- that we’re- whatever happens between us, if we can actually stop Ciaphas and save everything, I just-“ Ariadne opens and closes her mouth several times before she can keep going. Marilei waits. “I don’t want to just be something that you regret.”

The admission comes out in a whisper.

Marilei breathes in.

The heiress turns to her more fully, and hesitantly reaches for her other hand with her free one. Ariadne shakily gives it. In return,

Marilei gives both of her hands a gentle squeeze.

“You could never be that,” she murmurs. There is something between a smile and a saddened grimace on her face, before it melts into something more thoughtful. “I’ve known for a while that you could never be that. I don’t…” She releases one of Ariadne’s hands and slowly reaches up to brush back a strand of wayward dark hair away from Ariadne’s face. The cleric swallows and holds her breath. “I don’t know what she said to you, or what happened, but- I hope you can see yourself the way I do, someday.”

“Marilei, I-“

“May I?”

When had she gotten so close? She’s- her lips are right there, and Marilei is- she’s getting closer-

“I think I’m in love with you.” The words escape Ariadne’s mouth before she can stop them- for Pelor’s sake-

Marilei doesn’t move away. Instead, she smiles. “I know. And I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

When their lips finally meet, tentative at first and then decidedly not, it is almost as if Syngorn ceases to exist around them. Or maybe it’s easy to forget where they are the moment Ariadne’s wings (whether she’d bid them to or not) begin to encircle them both, keeping them close and protected and warm as hands begin to explore new, exciting, affectionate frontiers.

And if anyone notices the young de Rolo entangled with a half-elven siren in the alleyway, they know damn well to mind their own business.

#ockiss25 #d&d #prompts: first & desperate & caught & forbidden

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wunderschon-lieblich · 2 years ago

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Fuck It I’m Not Done

Biker headcanons for the AC Women that torment my brain

@kassandras-one-braincell you’ve broken me with this tbh I'm in shambles (affectionate) OG post here also NSFW warning this is a no minors post (or at the very least stop at the warning gdi)

Soma is sophisticated and expensive. Not gonna say too much here since I went into more detail previously but~ Imagine vintage restored bikes that are shiny and perfect all lined up in a pristine garage space with polished tool boxes that are filled with all her necessities to work on them and keep them gleaming. Professionally photographed, framed posters of you posed with her bikes adorn the walls of the space. She even picked lingerie to match each bike!

She only really rides one or two of her collection regularly, the majority are mostly for show. I imagine she’d have a cruiser with a good passenger seat on the back so she can take you on long scenic rides to beautiful locations, and you can bet your ass she’d have it shipped overseas on your vacations so she can take you all over the world on it. Soma is all class and polish, so her riding gear would definitely reflect that. High quality leather and helmets with coms will keep the two of you safe, comfortable and connected on your rides. She would probably have matching riding suits custom made for the two of you. I could just see her doing that.

Kassandra as the cocky performance rider. She’d have pick up lines for days, all the innuendo about taking you for a ride and how she knows how to handle curves. She’d chat you up good, and land a date for that same weekend.

She’d show up with an extra helmet and jacket for you, and she’d make sure it was all properly adjusted. In the og post about this concept, it says that you kiss her right when the helmets come off. I agree, and I’d say that you want to kiss her the moment she slides the helmet onto you and starts doing up the chin straps. For anyone who’s never worn a motorcycle helmet, they don’t have a clip like one for a bicycle would, it’s a strap that gets looped through two d-rings, and it’s kinda tricky at first. So, imagine: gazing up at her while she’s looking all intently at you with those gorgeous dark eyes, her fingertips working the thin strap quickly and efficiently on muscle memory. When she’s done she puts her hands on either side of it to check that it’s snug on your head and looks into your eyes for a moment longer than necessary. It’s electric.

When you arrive and she takes hers off, you’re still kind of fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp. She notices and hooks a finger through the loop, giving it a quick tug to undo it and free you of the helmet, whole time she's got that sexy little smile on her face. She takes it off of you and sets it on the seat behind you, arms reaching around your body to do so. At that moment you’re looking up at her and she’s so close. You can’t stop yourself from leaning in and up on your toes to steal a kiss. She’s a little surprised but doesn’t falter about kissing you back. Her hands rest so naturally on your waist. It’s short and sweet and leaves you both giddy with butterflies.

Your first date with her would be something sweet and romantic like taking you to a fancy park or perhaps a botanical garden. You’d walk around holding hands for hours and she’d be all chuffed that you gave her a kiss upon arrival to the date location. It would make her feel so confident and bold, wrapping her arms around you and allowing the affection to flow naturally. I think she would feel nervous about it being too much too soon but you just lean into it and look at her with stars in your eyes and it shuts that doubt right up. Very much a uhaul lesbian relationship in this case you would just fall so completely for each other and be comfortable together immediately. First date lasting three days kind of love story.

Eivor does motocross competitively and is a big name in the game. She also does trail riding but it’s more for fun so not her focus. She’s definitely the most reckless rider of the bunch but takes protective precautions seriously, bc she knows that she loves to go fast, push limits and pull stunts. However, if anyone else is on the bike with her she’s much more cautious and safe with her driving. She'd def pop some wheelies with you on the back if you were ok with it.

In this au I think she’d have a modest but comfortable house pretty far out of town on a decent chunk of land. She’d have a practice track built in her backyard with a trail looping around the edge and through the woods of her property. She’d do laps every day to stay at the top of her game, and just to enjoy the ride.

Her garage would be well organized but not shiny and fancy like Soma’s. Hers is functional and well used, in a separate building from the main house. Very Dad's Garage vibes in there I think. She’d love working on her own bikes, but I think she’d leave her competition bike’s maintenance to her trusted pro mechanic Gunnar.

Now I mentioned in my last reblog how I imagine they’d all have pics of you on their motorcycles, and that they’d have very different vibes.

Soma and Kassandra would display them like a trophy. Not publicly, but up on the walls of their own spaces. Eivor? She’s possessive. She wouldn’t want to have a photographer ruining the intimacy of your photos no matter who it was.

(here's where it gets nsfw)

Eivor would ride the two of you out to a nice secluded part of her property. A wooded area where she has a picnic table set up. You’d be all wrapped up in her riding jacket and pants, underneath them would be a pretty little number she picked for you, something simple and sexy like a matching bra and panty set with some lace. (I think Eivor is a bit too simple minded to prefer elaborate lingerie. Just show her something hot that she knows how to remove without finding a thousand clasps please and thank you)

She’d prop the bike up on its stand and use a Polaroid camera to take the pictures. The first ones you’re in the matching set with her jacket and your boots still on, straddling the bike with your hands on the bars as if you’re driving. She gets multiple angles, from the side so she can appreciate your legs, from the front so she can admire your breasts peeking out from the opening of her jacket.

The whole time she’d praise you saying “that’s a good girl, posing so pretty for me, now lean back let me see you- ah just like that, gods you’re perfect” she’s such a sexy photographer. By the time she’s done you’re about ready to hump the seat til you cum and she’s so horny she’s breathing manually. She knew that would happen, of course, and wore a strap under her jeans for the occasion.

After your photo shoot, she takes the dildo out of her harness and slides it back inside you, then helps you put her clothes back on over your underwear. She has you ride back with her to the house while you’re stuffed full like that. Every bump and jolt makes you whimper and dig your fingers into her. It’s not a long ride but you’re ready to rip every shred of her clothes off by the time you’re back

The pictures are kept in a cabinet by her work bench, there’s a few on the inside of the door held up with magnets, mostly the first few from the session, where you’re still partially clothed and gazing at the camera with your pretty, sultry eyes. The rest are tucked away in a small black photo album for her eyes only, the last few depict you laid back on the seat, bra gone, one of her strong hands cupping your breast. You’re holding your panties to the side, wet cunt stuffed full of her strap, your kissed bruised lips are parted in a moan. She keeps that one very secret, and takes it with her whenever she has to travel without you.

anyway now that you know I'm a total whore for this concept

This is my first time posting a full on hc set like this lemme know what you think and read the og post if you haven't yet! It sent me spiraling into madness <3

#eivor x reader #kassandra of sparta x reader #soma x reader #ac headcannons #biker au #I don't write much be nice pls #this is meant to be written in a very casual tone and style #im trying really hard to not be a horrendous perfectionist

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