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muiitoloko · 4 months

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NSFW Alphabet - Harry Hart

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After the steamy encounter, Harry Hart lavishes you with tender affection. He meticulously tends to your needs, ensuring you're comfortable and satisfied. His skilled hands offer gentle caresses, and his soothing words create a cocoon of warmth, making the post-intimacy experience unforgettable.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry's favorite body part was undoubtedly his hands, a lethal tool in his line of work, yet they found a different kind of purpose with his partner. He reveled in the duality, using them for justice and pleasure. As for his partner, it's those lips—swollen from the kisses Harry adored sharing.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry Hart, being a bold and adventurous soul, delights in a variety of intimate moments. His preferences may vary, as he appreciates the thrill of diversity. Whether it's inside, in the mouth, on the body, or on the breasts, Harry's desires mirror the passionate dance of his own personality. A naughty whisper or a tender embrace, he embraces the full spectrum of pleasure without hesitation.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Harry's dirty secret? Well, darling, our dapper gentleman enjoys a romp in the sheets after dealing with the not-so-nice fellas. There's a certain thrill he finds irresistible when his collar is stained with the blood of his enemies. Partners who don't mind a little mess are in for a wickedly delightful time~!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Harry is a true maestro in the art of pleasure. With all those honeypot missions under his belt, he's practically a virtuoso when it comes to seduction and intimate rendezvous. Trained to perfection, he knows how to dance between desire and satisfaction, leaving his partners in a state of euphoric bliss.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Well, he's quite the sophisticated spy, but in the bedroom, he's partial to a classic and intimate embrace—spooning. It seems our gentleman enjoys the close connection and warmth of a partner in his arms. Such a refined choice for our dashing Harry.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Harry can be a cheeky devil in the bedroom. Despite his suave demeanor, he's not afraid to inject some humor into intimate moments, making the atmosphere playfully naughty. Expect sly smirks, witty banter, and a touch of mischief to keep things delightfully light-hearted.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Harry's hair, my dear, is not limited to the stylish locks atop his head. In the world of Kingsman, keeping downstairs tidy is practically a refined rule. Our dapper gentleman, with his penchant for perfection, ensures that everything below remains immaculately trimmed. A gentleman in all aspects, from head to toe—or should I say, from head to... well, you catch my drift.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Intimacy with Harry? Oh, it's like a slow dance between shadows and candlelight. His touch is both commanding and tender, weaving a symphony of passion. In those moments, the world outside disappears, leaving only the echo of heartbeats and whispered promises. It's a sensual ballet, where every move tells a story of desire and connection.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh, dear, it seems Harry's "Jack off" routine is quite the rarity. His busy life leaves little room for self-indulgence, but when he does, he strives to maintain respect. Yet, the sly thoughts sneak in, and he can't help but imagine his partner joining in the intimate escapade~!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh, Harry's got a penchant for the unexpected. The thrill of danger amps up his desires. Whether it's a bit of role-play or daring encounters in unconventional places, our gentleman spy finds pleasure in the extraordinary.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Harry's favorite place for some intimate escapades? Well, it seems the Kingsman tailor has a penchant for getting down and dirty right in the heart of his luxurious tailor shop. Surrounded by finely crafted suits and hidden gadgets, it adds a touch of class to their clandestine activities.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mmm, for Harry, it's that intoxicating mix of danger and elegance. His heart races at the thrill of the chase, the allure of a skilled partner, and the symphony of chaos and pleasure that follows. The adrenaline of a secret mission and the sizzling chemistry with a like-minded companion—those are the ingredients that fuel his fiery desires.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The gentleman draws the line at anything that could permanently hurt his partner during their intimate escapades. He'd rather face a hail of bullets than engage in something that leaves lasting scars. Our dashing spy prefers the thrill without the lingering pain.

And Harry, the charming rogue, has a firm “no” when it comes to being tied up. He revels in the power dynamic of being the one in control, pulling the strings expertly. However, if you want to tie him down and ask him with a sweet smile and a touch of persuasion, he might satisfy your desires for a day.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh, Harry's oral inclinations? He relishes receiving, but our refined gentleman prioritizes his partner's pleasure. With skillful finesse, he delights in giving, ensuring his partner is thoroughly spoiled before even considering his own desires. Such a gentleman, always putting others first~! 😌

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Harry? Oh, honey, he's a man of exquisite taste. His pace? Picture a slow, seductive dance – every move deliberate, every touch calculated. He revels in the art of anticipation, savoring each moment with a grace that's almost poetic. Slow and sensual, my dear, slow and oh-so-sensational~!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Harry's a man who appreciates the swift and satisfying. With his demanding missions, quickies become a regular rendezvous. The thrill of urgency in the bedroom matches the intensity of his work. Arriving late for briefings? Well, that's a small price to pay for the pleasures he'd rather not miss, even if it means disturbing dear Chester. Priorities, after all.(He secretly loves to upset the arrogant idiot, aka Chester King, with all due respect of course.)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk? Pssh, love, Harry's practically dancing with danger every day. The man embraces risk like an old friend. Having a steamy encounter in a public place? It's a stroll in the park for Mr. Harry Risk Hart. After all, what's the point of living on the edge if you don't indulge in a bit of passion amid the chaos? (A dark alley does the job for Harry, and remember, the Kingsman tailor shop is his favorite spot for sex)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh, sweetie, when it comes to stamina, Harry Hart is like an Energizer bunny on steroids! This man can go for round after round, leaving you breathless and begging for more. He's got the endurance of a secret agent with a mission to satisfy, and trust me, he won't stop until you're completely spent.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry, dear, doesn't dabble much in the world of toys. The idea of a sex shop may not cross his mind, but if his partner fancies such things, he'd graciously entertain the notion. A gentleman's willingness to explore knows no bounds when it comes to pleasing his beloved.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry Hart is an absolute maestro when it comes to teasing. His charming demeanor hides a devilish skill for making anticipation linger, leaving his partner craving more. He takes pleasure in keeping them on the edge, a delightful game of desire and frustration. Oh, the wicked charm of Mr. Hart~!

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Well, you see, Harry Hart, the refined gentleman, holds on to that outdated notion that a gentleman shouldn't make too much noise in bed. Despite his attempts at stifling grunts and moans, his passionate partner has a knack for coaxing out every delicious sound he tries to suppress. The walls of restraint crumble, and Harry finds himself surrendering to the symphony of pleasure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Wild card, you say? Imagine this: Harry Hart has a penchant for indulging in a bit of role-playing, but not just any role-playing—secret agent-themed scenarios where he and his partner engage in covert missions of passion. Sneaky and seductive, with a touch of danger. Oh, my, the possibilities are endless~!

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

X is for X-ray, so let's peek beneath the bespoke suits. Harry's not packing the largest piece in the Kingsman arsenal, but fear not, for he makes up for it with a satisfying thickness that leaves partners quite content. Quality over quantity, my dear~!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Oh, dearie, Harry's yearning is like a roaring fire, burning with intensity. His appetite for passion and desire knows no bounds. He's got a sex drive that could set the world on fire, leaving you breathless and craving for more~!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After the action-packed missions, sleep is a rare luxury for Harry. When the chance arises, he dives into slumber with the ease of a well-trained spy. However, his senses remain sharp, easily awakened by the slightest disturbance. Yet, after the passionate escapades, Harry, ever the gentleman, ensures his partner is okay before drifting off into a contented post-coital rest. Sweet dreams, indeed!

#harry hart #kingsman secret service #harry hart x reader #kingsman fanfiction #colin firth x reader

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artsyhamster · 1 year

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Part 3!

And oh boy, this one definitely needs explanation, so see you down in the ramblings.

I gotta be real, this is my least favorite set so far. I was very unsure about the characters I chose for these and it also shows in the compositions. I might redo them at some point but I want to finish the major arcana as a whole first, before I lose myself in revisions. Maybe I shouldn’t be too harsh on myself anyway, because this is just a fun project but, ah, perfectionism.

Anyway, citations from here, as always.

THE LOVERS - Actually means that the protag feels sexual urge or need for relationship. Harry basically flirts with everyone and is still hung up on his broken relationship, that he doesn’t even remember, so the meaning here is pretty warped. So I just chose some lover figures. But who to choose? Klaasje and Lely? Well their relationship gets known pretty late, and didn’t end very nicely. Also I do not know how Lely looks like as not-a-corpse so-- Klaasje and Ruby? Seemed to me more like a fling, and didn’t interest Harry much except for some lecherous line he dropped. So I chose Sylvie and Garte, because Harry actively gets involved in their business. He can help them get together or ultimately break their relationship before it could ever bloom (Shoutout to the cock carousel) so I chose them because Harry is the most involved here.

THE CHARIOT - I’m just gonna quote for a bit “The Chariot represents the vigorous ego that is the Fool's crowning achievement so far. (...) we see a proud, commanding figure riding victoriously through his world. He is in visible control of himself and all he surveys.” Not many people with horses around there in Martinaise, only people driving cars. None of the lorry drivers fir the description for me though. The chariot is also described as commandeering and rigid, and René fit the description for me the most. He is definitely a proud person, commandeering and strict, and also surveying the world around him from his booth up at the harbour. Otherwise, yeah I got nothing. This one was just hard lol

STRENGTH - “[The fool] is pressed to develop his courage and resolve and find the heart to keep going despite setbacks.” was a line that made me very desperately want to choose Kim here, but I had other plans for him already. Strength is part of the Virtues trio, and spoiler spoiler, Kim will get his place as one of the three Virtues, but this one goes to Cuno, because I feel he is also very influential on Harry. Another quote for the card is “The Fool also discovers the quiet attributes of patience and tolerance.“ which I think fits Cuno quiet well. Because boy do you need a lot of patience and tolerance with him to make him trust and help you. But ultimately he is also there in the end if you need him (and Kim is unfortunately not present) All in all, what could make you want to get your shit together more than escaping the mocking words of a potty-mouthed kid. Horrifying lol

I tried really hard okay. I’m sure there are other interpretations but that’s the best I could come up with.Meanwhile I also bought an art book of a really pretty tarot set I saw at the last convention I was at, and there were so many lovely compositions that almost made me question what I am doing here. But again, I’m doing these for fun [*self prep talk*]. Still, take a look at this magnificient tarot deck (Instagram Link) I’m so sad they were sold out, but at least I got the art book.

Uhhh anyway enjoy. Next set will be better I promise. I like the upcoming one a lot : )

#Disco elysium #disco elysium fanart #tarot #uhhhh i dont feel like tagging them all

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our-blood-is-our-ink · 1 year

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if your still doing the prompt thing how about 17, 23, 25, 29 with power!bottom claire being stressed and intern!reader offering to help but don't have any sexual experience so claire teaches them

Thank you so much for sending this in! I'm so sorry it took so long to complete, life got very hectic, but I have it for you now! I hope I've done this request justice <3

Afterhours

Ship: Claire Debella x Reader

Summary: When you, an intern working at the governor's office, offer to stay with the governor while she works late into the night, you find yourself in a situation you have only ever fantasized of.

Word Count: 5.8k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings: smut, hints at dark!Claire, pet-names, praise kink, degradation kink, fingering, oral, first time, virgin reader, legal age gap, power imbalance, mommy kink, begging, implied subspace

It's an open secret at the office that Governor Debella is paranoid.

If the extreme vetting process to just simply become an intern is anything to go by, the woman could use some relaxation time.

After all, a single intern hardly would have the ability to take down the political powerhouse that Governor Debella is.

Or, that's what you think anyhow.

You knew you had been lucky to land the job, the experience and credentials that will pad up your resume and qualifications that will come from working here, but some days, all you can think about is how stressed the top boss constantly is.

Being a people pleaser, being a people fixer, you started to stay late, wanting to get as much work done as possible.

Sure, you're only a low level entry personnel, but what you do helps free up time for those above you to focus on more important things.

After a few weeks of being the last one in the office, Governor Debella notices.

“Don't you have someone to get home to? A boyfriend, or a pet, or something?”

You nearly topple back in your seat, startled by your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss (seriously there's a chain of command here, and you're merely a bottom feeder) not having heard her approach from behind.

“Governor!” You gasp, trying to recover. “Uh- I don't- I live with a few roommates, but they never care if I'm there or not. We're all very busy.”

Governor Debella frowns, and crosses her arms.

“There's no reason for you to be staying so late. You're an intern. You don't get paid overtime.”

You shrug.

“I don't have much else to do. Call it volunteer hours.”

(And god, doesn't that sound pathetic, especially because it's true.)

Her frown deepens.

“It's illegal for you to stay and work without pay.”

“Are you telling me I need to start going home at quitting time?”

The words spill from your mouth before you can think them through.

There's a moment of silence, and for a second you could swear it's hesitation on Governor Debella’s face.

“No.” She says, after a beat too long.

There's another, much longer silence.

You hate the quiet, and you find yourself breaking it.

“Then, er, what do you want me to do?”

Governor Debella blinks, and it draws your attention to the dark bags underneath her tired silvery-blue eyes, her makeup must having had rubbed off enough for it to begin to show.

You suddenly realize that perhaps it's just as exhausting for her as it is for everyone else to deal with her stress and paranoia.

“Would you like some company while you work?” You offer, a gentleness in your tone that you hadn't made the decision to speak with. “I could clock out and then just… Sit in your office with you if you'd like. I know how empty the building feels when everyone has left.”

This time, you know you haven't imagined her hesitation.

“I'm under contract, anyhow, Governor. If there's an additional paper you need me to sign, for security reasons, well.” You shrug. “What's one more?”

Again, there's silence, and then…

“Call me Claire, if you're really willing to sit and do nothing for hours besides for staring at my office walls.”

You're a bit shocked she's accepted your offer, and you stumble over your response.

“I- oh. Uh… Okay, um. Claire.”

The governor’s lips twitch, as if she's hiding a smile.

“But not tonight. I was just about to head out, which means you definitely should too. Security won't stick around once I leave, and the night shift…” Claire scowls. “I need to remember to get them replaced.”

It's the most you've ever heard her talk without snapping at someone to do something, let alone to you.

“Isn't that what your assistant is for? To remind you or to arrange that on your behalf?”

“That's only if I remember to tell him.” Claire mutters, before shaking her head. “Shut your computer down, you're not staying if I'm not in the building.”

She waits, hovering over your shoulder as you listen, and she walks with you out to the front of the building.

“You didn't park in the lot?” She asks, when you start to head towards home.

You can feel your face flush.

“I uh… I don't exactly get paid enough to own a car.” You refuse to look at the older woman. “Usually I just walk back.”

“It's two in the morning.” Claire sounds incredulous.

“I have pepper spray.”

“No. You're not walking home anymore.”

Claire has her arms crossed again, and an all too familiar glare is being leveled at you.

Before now, you always thought it was an angry expression.

You're beginning to wonder if maybe it's a stubborn one instead.

You sigh.

“Well short of driving me home yoursel-”

“That's exactly what I'm going to do.”

You barely manage to keep your jaw from dropping as Claire turns, clearly expecting you to follow her.

You suppose if you don't, you won't get too far before she can find you walking.

Or if not, possibly fire you over it tomorrow.

You push down your anxiety.

Don't worse case scenario. You scold yourself.

Claire drives a nondescript silver minivan.

“I have custody every other month.” She explains your unanswered question.

Ah, right.

Sometimes you forget that Claire just recently went through divorce, that she has two little ones to care for.

You remember how the media had dug it all up, how they aired her very private life for the public.

For a minivan, it's pretty nice.

When Claire turns on the car, a few loud notes play, before she quickly slams her palm against the knob that turns the car music on and off.

You raise an eyebrow, but don't say anything about it.

Instead you ask, “how are they?”

“My kids?”

She sounds mildly surprised as she reaches for her seatbelt.

“Yeah.”

You click yours in as she replies.

“They're… They're okay, all things considered.”

She puts the car in reverse, and you rattle off your address so she knows where she's headed.

Her nose wrinkles, and you're willing to bet it's because you don't live in a particularly nice area.

“You had to hire shadows- uh, bodyguards for them, right?”

Claire's hands clench the wheel, turning her knuckles white.

“I don't know of any other governor who's had their children's lives threatened.” She practically growls. “It scares them, but they won't say anything.”

“I'm sorry.” You murmur.

Claire glances at your pale face, and she takes a breath, forcing her body to relax.

“It's not your fault.” She shakes her head. “They're my kids. I'm their mother. I'm bound to be a bit overprotective.”

You choke back an unamused laugh.

“You would hope.”

Claire gives you a quick look, before returning her full attention to the road.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh crap, you didn't mean to invite Claire to dig into your life.

“Er… My parents… They weren't the best.” You mumble.

Claire frowns, eyes still looking forward.

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty-three.”

Claire hums.

“And how much are we paying you again?”

You rattle off the salary.

Claire hums again, and then there's silence for the rest of the short drive.

When she pulls up in front of your apartment, you say, “this is it.”

You undo your seatbelt and open the door, moving to leave.

“I'll have the paperwork ready for you on your desk by lunch.” Claire says.

At your confused look she huffs.

“For your extended night hours.”

Oh!

“Right, thank you. And thank you for the lift.”

Claire nods.

“If you don't have those papers past lunch break, hound my assistant. Don't take no for an answer, I might not remember to let Brian know to expect you to be a bother.”

The word bother echoes around your head, and you swallow down sudden anxiety.

“Sure thing. Good night, Governor-er- Claire.”

“Good night.” The other woman says, and you shut the passenger door firmly behind you as you sprint into your building.

—»•«—

You do have to bother her assistant the next day, and the stack of papers Claire presents you with is frankly ridiculous, but you pull out a notepad, read them through, and write bullet points of what you're agreeing to.

You sign, and initial, and date.

And then you binder clip it all together and drop it with a fairly solid thud onto Brian’s desk.

“Governor Debella will want these to be scanned and filed.” You say, even as an intern knowing the procedure for important documentation.

The man frowns at you.

“You're not done.” Brain says, and then seemingly out of nowhere, produces another stack of papers.

You groan, but your impatience quickly disappears as you stare at the sheet of paper, towards the end of the stack, that says how much of a raise you're receiving for signing on to be Claire’s personal intern.

Claire's personal intern.

$47,000

That was $15k more than what you had been making.

What the fuck.

You sign the papers, and don't say a word.

Slowly, as the day progresses, people trickle out, until you're the last one in the main office.

Brain looks at you as he leaves, and nearly walks into a wall trying to maintain his stare.

You head towards Claire's office and knock on her door.

“Come in.”

She sounds frazzled, and you realize you haven't seen her flying around the office today as you normally do.

“Everything alright?” You ask, taking note of Claire's disheveled state.

“No.” Is the simple answer you get, and you don't push as Claire continues to frantically scribble something out.

You glance around, familiarizing yourself with the private office you so rarely see the inside of, and take notice of a little seating area, with two arm chairs and a very comfortable looking couch.

In addition, there's what appears to be a bar cart, but it's filled with bottled water and sports drinks instead of alcohol, as well as a giant TV screen and what looks like a game console hooked up to it.

Somehow, you can't quite picture Claire playing video games while at work, and you have to wonder if perhaps she has ever been forced to watch one or both of her kids while working.

You don't want to become an annoyance, so instead of pacing the space, you choose to settle into one of the armchairs, curling up with one knee to your chest, the other dangling off the side of the chair.

You stare at the ceiling and let your mind wander as you examine the embedded ceiling lights.

“This is fucking bullshit.” Claire suddenly growls, and the sound of a pen clattering against the plastic wood of her desk sounds through the room.

“What is?” You ask.

Claire’s head jerks up, and for a moment, she looks surprised.

“You're so quiet.” She says. “I forgot you were here.”

You shrug, and don't say I’m good at that, I've had a lot of practice growing up.

You do say, “I didn't want to be a distraction.”

Claire hums.

She does that a lot, you realize.

“Well, maybe instead I can bounce this off of you.”

She gestures for you to come around to her side of the desk, and you quickly skim over what appears to be a proposal for a bill.

“Is it even legal for me to be doing this?” You ask.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Claire shrugging.

“You work for the government office this will be coming out from. It's not illegal, just out of the norm.”

You make a noise of understanding, going over the contents of it, frowning.

“What’s the problem with this?” You ask once you're finished giving the proposal a once-over.

Claire viciously stabs a single digit at some handwritten notes laying next to her keyboard.

“This section, this sentence, this paragraph, this fucking word is wrong, but the thesaurus is being useless-”

“Whoa, whoa.” You slow down what was sure to be Claire spiraling into more stress. “What's the most important thing to fix here?”

Claire blinks, pauses, frowns, then flips through her notes.

“Here.” She finally decides. “This entire section needs to be completely rewritten.”

You scroll to the right place on the computer screen and read it over more carefully.

“I'm pretty sure we can bullshit what you want to say here.” You murmur half to yourself. “It shouldn't be too difficult, most of the framework is here, it's just about closing the loopholes and rewording things to be less polarizing.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Claire grumps, leaning back in her chair and frowning as she crosses her arms.

You shrug.

“I bullshitted my fair share of essays, the difficult part to it is having a decent outline, which you already have.”

The other woman grumbles something under her breath before sitting up, shooing you away with a flick of her hand.

“Alright, well if it's that easy.” Her tone is disgruntled, but her fingers are already clacking against the keyboard, and you take that as your signal to return to the armchair you had been lazing about in.

At the end of the night, she drives you home again.

It becomes a routine.

For the next few months, Claire uses you as a sound board during the late hours, and you've taken to bringing either a book to read or an adult coloring book to do while you sit with her.

And then something big must have happened in her private life, because Claire is an absolute menace even to you one Monday, tearing through the office morale like a hot knife to butter.

You don't dare say a thing, even when she snaps at you later that night for being incompetent, and you just sit and take it.

She doesn't mean it personally.

You know that.

But by the time Thursday rolls around, her attitude hasn't changed, and you've found yourself retreating, becoming as small and invisible as possible in an attempt to spare yourself from Claire’s wrath.

You hear shuffling from where you're curled up on the couch, and you look up, and find Claire downing a shot, a bottle of amber liquid sitting on her desk.

“I know I've been an ass.” She says when she catches your eye.

“You've been stressed.” You excuse.

Claire shakes her head.

“There are better ways of releasing steam.”

“Well what do you usually do?”

You think this must be the first conversation all week that Claire is having civilly.

“Get high. Or have sex.”

Your mouth drops open at her blasé answer.

“And I haven't been able to do either.” She complains.

“Well, er. I could- I could help. If you wanted. To- um. To destress, I- I mean.”

You don't know why those words left your mouth, and the moment they do, you can feel your face heat up.

Sure, you've begun to have the occasional fantasy or wet dream about your boss, but that wasn't the same thing as implying you'd have sex with her.

HR is going to have a field day with you.

You're going to be fired.

You bury your face into your hands, and when Claire gently brushes her fingers against your back, you jump.

You hadn't heard her move.

“Look at me.” She softly says, and you shiver at how low her voice is pitched.

“There's a good girl.” She smiles as you listen, and the pulse of heat that shoots down your spine makes you feel dizzy.

Her hand comes up to cup your face, angling it upwards and forcing you to meet her eyes.

“Do you mean it, baby?” She asks, and you shiver at the pet-name, biting your lip as you grow more aroused. “You'll help mommy destress?”

Your eyes widen at the title Claire has bestowed upon herself, and you flush with embarrassment as the whine you've been fighting to keep down slips out through your mouth and escapes.

Your boss chuckles.

“Such a sweet thing. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into, offering to stay so late with me, did you?”

You frown, confused, despite your ever growing arousal.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

Claire smiles, but it's a sharp thing that causes gooseflesh to erupt along your arms.

“Please, doll. I've seen the way you look at me. And we both know how aware you are of how… Lonely, I have been.”

Her hand reaches out, and she brushes her knuckles gently against your cheek.

“Say yes.”

Her voice is pitched low, and it makes you shiver.

“Say yes to mommy, and I promise, you'll never have to worry about a thing again.”

Perhaps it should be your sign to leave right now, the possessiveness that practically drips from the governor's tone, but all it does is empty your head of thought.

“Yes.” You breathlessly say. “Yes, I'll help mommy destress.”

“Good girl.” She purrs, and when your lips part to allow a moan to tumble out, Claire gently presses against your tongue with two fingers.

When you stay still, frozen and unsure of what the older woman wants you to do, she furrows her brow and withdraws her fingers.

“Have you ever had sex before, honey?”

Immediately you can feel heat rise to your cheeks as you shake your head, shame rising in your throat.

“I- I'm a virgin.” You whisper, tripping over your words. “This is my first time…”

You trail off, embarrassed.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Claire coos, her eyes sparking with something that makes you feel a bit like her prey. “Budge over.” She says.

Mindlessly, you obey, scooting all the way down, and Claire settles back against the arm of the couch, and she lazily smiles at you as she slowly, tantalizingly spreads her legs.

You had no idea a suit skirt could stretch so much.

You had no idea how well it could hide the fact that Claire wasn't wearing any underwear either.

“Teach me how to make you feel good.” You're flooded by a sudden need to please this woman spread out before you, a sudden desire to watch her come undone because of you. “Show me how to touch you.” You beg. “Please.”

Claire chuckles deeply.

“You're going to be so perfect for me, baby.” She husks out, and you can feel how your pussy pulses, leaking wetness against the material of your underwear.

Unlike Claire, you're wearing a pair.

A niggling feeling of regret bothers you.

You wish you were easily accessible for your boss.

You want her to ruin you.

“Come here, honey.” Claire beckons you with a single finger, and you're obedient, crawling until you hover over her.

She reaches her hands up, and oh so gently cups your face with her hands, guiding your head downwards until your lips are just millimeters apart.

One of her thumbs softly brushes over your cheek, moving back and forth in a soothing sweeping motion, and her silvery-blue eyes gaze deep into your own.

The moment stretches, and you grow impatient of waiting, and despite your heart hammering against your ribcage, you close the miniscule gap between your lips and hers.

They're so fucking soft.

Claire isn't your first kiss by any means, but you deeply wish it were.

You're moaning into her mouth like you're a slut, and when Claire enters your own with her tongue, it's all you can do to keep yourself from falling atop of her as your limbs go weak.

Languidly, you make out with your boss, and as you do so, one of her knees makes its way between the apex of your thighs.

When you instinctively buck into the touch, Claire pulls away, and breathlessly laughs at you.

“Remember, doll. This is about mommy, not about you.”

Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen.

You whimper, and bite your lip.

Her expression softens, and she reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear.

“Didn't mommy say that as long as you're with me, I'll see to all your needs? Make me feel good, and I promise, you'll get a reward, sweet thing.”

You drop your head against her shoulder, and the whine that escapes you causes Claire to reach up and stroke at your hair.

“Let me show you how to touch mommy, baby. Let me show you how she likes to be pleasured.”

It's not fair, you think. No one woman should have the right to say things like that in such a husky sounding voice.

Your pussy throbs.

You lift your head up, and shift your weight, settling back so that you're straddling Claire.

“Please mommy, teach me.” You beg, and the older woman groans at the plain desperation that drips from your tone. “Teach me how to make you scream for your baby.”

At the word ‘scream’, Claire's eyes light up, something that simultaneously sends a shiver of fear through your body, but also a shiver of anticipation.

“You want to make mommy scream, doll? Get off, and I'll show you how.”

Gracelessly you tumble off of Claire and onto the floor, and she shakes her head as she laughs.

“You’re adorable, sweetheart.”

She stands, and as she walks back to her desk, she strips, carelessly leaving her clothes crumbled on the floor.

As she settles back into her leather seat, she spreads her legs wide in a clear order.

Her gaze feels intense as she watches you wobble over to her, before you collapse, dropping to your knees, your legs unable to continue to support your weight.

Your head spins as the scent of Claire’s arousal overwhelms you, and you look up at your boss with wide, pleading eyes.

She chuckles, and her hand comes down to pet your hair, before they tangle and tug at you.

“M-mommy!” You protest. “I still don't know what to do!”

Claire groans, but she doesn't stop guiding you forward.

“You're smart, doll. I'm sure you can figure it out.”

You whimper, but don't protest further, and then the older woman's cunt is directly in your face, and you're powerless as you stick your tongue out hesitantly.

You give her a taste test.

The wetness that is slowly dripping from Claire is a bit salty, but mostly, it just tastes musky.

It isn't bad.

It's just… New.

You give Claire’s pussy a few more tiny little licks, trying to acclimate to her taste, and she tightens her hold on your hair.

“I thought you wanted to make mommy scream.” She bites out, yanking you flush against her pulsing center. “So do it. Mommy needs to relax, and you're going to help.”

Helplessly, you do as Claire commands, and you start lapping at her earnestly.

When she lets out an unrestrained moan above you, you can't help but moan in return, and Claire gasps.

She yanks your head back, her chest heaving slightly, pupils blown wide.

“I never thought you could make such sweet noises, baby.” She breathlessly says.

You feel heat rushing to your face, and Claire's free hand grips your chin when you try to look away.

“Neither did I.” You whisper, ashamed.

Claire tsks.

“None of that now, honey, mommy wants to hear you again. Moan for me.”

Your mouth drops open, and your mind goes blank as you try to process your boss’s demand.

Her grip tightens.

“I said moan for me, bitch.”

It tumbles involuntarily from your mouth, loud and uncontrolled, and Claire's grip on your chin turns painfully.

“Does that turn you on? For mommy to degrade you like the little fucking slut you are?”

The noise you make in response causes Claire’s eyes to glint as she smirks.

“Who knew beneath all that innocence was a whore.” She coos, before jerking your head forward in a clear demand.

You eat her out for what feels like ages, the taste of Claire filling your senses, and you grow progressively lightheaded.

You find your thoughts slipping away as you become utterly focused on not letting one drop of your boss’s wetness to escape your tongue, and you find your hands keeping her legs spread apart as you become more eager in your ministrations.

You feel drunk as Claire begins to make higher and higher pitched noises until finally, she goes so high, it's a shrill thing that your ears can barely withstand, and there's a wetness soaking your face that isn't from how vigorously you had been pleasuring her.

She hasn't told you to stop, though, and you find yourself not wanting to regardless, so you continue to lap at her until she harshly jerks your head away.

“Enough.” She pants, eyes closed, chest heaving. “Enough.”

Your head spins, and you feel dizzy as you stare, memorized by the woman above you.

You open your mouth, aware there's something you want to ask, but you can't seem to conjure enough words in your mind to even speak them aloud.

Silvery-blue eyes open, and the most self satisfied smirk you have ever seen curls at the edges of Claire’s lips.

“How precious.” She murmurs, before sticking her heeled foot out.

You hadn't noticed that despite shedding her clothes, the older woman had kept her shoewear on.

“Why don't you make yourself feel good, and put on a pretty show for mommy, hm?”

You slowly close your mouth, becoming aware it's been hanging open, and give your boss a confused look.

Claire sighs.

“That's right, you really don't have any experience. Could have fooled me, with how well you've made me cum, doll.”

You flush, uncertain if it's from the praise or from the degradation.

You watch as Claire carefully stands, and you're startled when she hisses, her left leg buckling from how loose and relaxed her muscles have become.

“Strip.” Claire orders, her knuckles white from how hard she's clutching at her desk. “And then lay back on the couch.”

You scramble, tugging your shirt off as you simultaneously attempt to undo the button of your pants, and you wind up tripping, falling to the floor.

Claire's laughter causes your face to heat up.

“Looks like my baby needs my help, hm?” She giggles, toeing off her heels so that she can walk properly.

You whine, and can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with embarrassment.

“Aw, sweetheart.” Claire pouts. “Mommy thinks you're cute for being so eager. No need to be so sad over it.”

You whine again, but slowly force yourself to sit up.

“Mommy.” You whimper. “Jus’ wanted to feel good.”

The older woman’s amused expression visibly softens, and warm hands reach for you.

You stand with Claire's help, and she almost reverently helps you undress, gently kissing each newly revealed piece of skin.

“Look at this beautiful body, honey. Just so perfect for me.”

Unable to bear the compliment, you choose instead to bury your head against the upper part of Claire's chest.

She coos, and runs her fingers through your hair.

“Oh, sweet thing. Is my baby feeling shy?”

You nod against her, noticing the soft smell of vanilla.

You've never noticed it before.

You had thought it was maybe the air refresher in Claire's office, but no.

It's her.

Your head spins.

And you're so wet.

Claire's laugh rumbles against you, and she easily guides you towards the couch.

You only grow steadily redder as she pulls your legs apart, kissing her way up from one ankle, and then kisses her way back down the other, over and over until you're squirming with your need.

“Mommy, please!” You cry.

Claire groans, eyes fluttering shut for a few moments, before she pulls you close, hooking your legs over her shoulders.

When she noses at your clit, your hands find her hair, and she tsks.

“No, doll. I won't reward you if you pull at my hair.”

Reluctantly, you release your grip, and bury your fingers against the cushion of the couch instead.

“Good girl.” Claire praises, and you moan softly in response.

When her tongue presses against you, you shudder at the new sensation.

It's wet and warm and slightly rough, and–

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out. “Fuck, mommy!”

Claire's hands harshly grip at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you whimper, but she continues to lavish her tongue over your clit, and you begin to squirm in earnest.

You've masterbated plenty of times, and have a few toys in your bedside drawer, but that is nothing compared to the older woman’s touch.

Within a few minutes, you're already near orgasm, and you chase the release, fighting the urge to bring your hands back up to tangle into Claire's hair.

And then right when you're about to reach that high, the moment before the waves of pleasure can overwhelm you, she pulls away, and you loudly sob.

“No, please.” You gasp.

Claire smirks, and you whimper at how lustful her gaze is, at how your wetness glistens on the bottom half of her face.

“You want to cum, baby?” She mocks you, pouting. “You want mommy to let you feel good? Then beg for it. I need to hear my cute little doll ask for permission first.”

You whimper.

“Please, mommy.” You can feel tears start to gather with how badly you want this. “Please let your baby cum, I wanna cum for you, I wanna feel good, please, please, please!”

“Hm…” Claire hums.

“Please.” The tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I wanna to cum, mommy. I want you to make me cum, please.”

You let out a sob of desperation when a single digit finds your swollen clit, and lightly begins to circle it.

“Please.” You whisper, your voice getting caught in your throat.

For a moment, you think your boss is going to deny you, and you open your mouth to continue to beg, when instead you gasp, two of Claire’s fingers suddenly stretching you open.

You let out a high pitch noise when she curls the digits, pleasure burning through you, and you buck your hips.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” You chant, unable to form any other thought, let alone words.

“Cum for me, princess.” Claire softly orders, and as if your body was designed to obey her every desire, you convulse, a scream tearing it's way from your throat as she continues to finger fuck you, the gushing wetness weeping from your pussy causing a squelching noise, and you writhe as you ride the high.

“Fuck, baby.” Claire groans. “I want you to come for me again.”

You squirm desperately, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, but Claire is stronger than your now limp body, and she thumbs at your clit, sending electric waves up your spine, causing your back to arch painfully.

“FUCK!” You cry out, unable to control your volume, and you can barely hear Claire's responding moan over the static in your ears as a new wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

You're gasping for air with how it steals your breath away, and when Claire collapses on top of you, you gladly welcome it, despite how it further suffocates your lungs of oxygen.

She smells so good. You think as you start to come back to your senses.

The scent of vanilla is still prominent, but it's now mixed with the smell of Claire’s sweat.

Somehow, it's more appealing.

The smell of sex still hangs heavy in the air, and you throb as your body unfairly grows more aroused again.

“Mommy.” You whisper.

Claire groans, burying her head further against your neck.

“You smell so good, princess.” She says. “And you look so beautiful when I fuck your brains out.”

A whimper catches in the back of your throat.

Claire finally moves, shifting until she's sitting upright, and you don't think she's ever looked as enthralling as does now.

Her cheeks are flushed, and you can clearly see faint freckles that are usually hidden under a layer of makeup that Claire must have sweated off, and her hair has gone from stick straight to gentle waves, a halo of frizz framing her face.

You lose yourself in her eyes, at how she smiles so tenderly as she helps you up and to the private attached bathroom in her office.

“Let's get cleaned up, doll.” She says, and you grin goofily at her.

Your head is still spinning.

She giggles, a light sound that makes you join in once a light snort causes her to double over.

“You're so cute.” She smiles, and you obediently spread your legs when she taps your thigh.

She gently runs the wash cloth in her hand over the sticky residue of your arousal, and you flinch every time she passes over your clit.

“You’re still so sensitive.” She breathes out. “Did mommy not satisfy you, doll? Do you want mommy to keep going until it hurts for me to?”

“I- ah!” You cry out when Claire firmly swipes the cloth over your swollen bud. “I just want to be good.”

Claire peers up at you, and you hold your breath as she weighs your words.

“Next time then, maybe.” She decides, and you aren't sure if your shoulders slump with relief or disappointment.

She finishes cleaning you up, before moving on to herself, telling you to wait as she does so.

You watch as her back muscles move with her motions, and you can't resist the urge to kiss them, to nip at them.

Who knew the governor would have such fairly well defined muscles?

“Baby.” Claire warns.

“Mmm… Mommy.” You reply, before darting the tip of your tongue out against her warm skin.

“Baby, if you want to go home, you'll stop.”

“But you're so pretty. I can't help it.”

Claire turns around, shaking her head.

“You're adorable, honey. Come on, let's get dressed so we can head home.”

Claire has to help you into your shirt and pants, and you don't notice when she pockets your underwear instead of giving it back to you when she spots it under the couch.

Before you leave, your boss insists on watching you drink a glass of water, predicting you'll be too tired to do so once she drops you off at home, expressing how important it is to her that you take care of yourself.

By the time you get to her car, you're stumbling with exhaustion, beginning to crash as the endorphin high wears off.

You can't keep your eyes open once she starts driving, and when you let out a huge yawn, Claire glances at you.

“Go to sleep, baby.” She soothingly says. “I'll wake you up when we get home.”

You're used to listening when she asks you of something, and so you don't think twice as you finally allow your eyes to stay close, and you drift off, Claire's warm hand on your thigh.

#sky's inbox #sky's stolen ask games #sky writes #sky's anons #sky answers #sky replies #sky's fics #c: claire #claire debella #claire debella x reader #again I am so so sorry this took so long!#also I'm lazy af and refuse to reread this before hitting post so please ignore any errors -- I'll probably go back and fix them #once I have the energy to reread this for the billionth time #also also I might've forgotten Claire was supposed to be a power bottom whoops

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

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Like A Movie

“ Hiya! I absolutely adore your lockwood x reader fics. They are so good! I was wondering if you would write some Lockwood x reader fluff where the reader loves the rain and so when they have a quiet moment on day Lockwood takes her outside to dance in the rain and then they share their first kiss. That would be amazing, thank you! ”

a/n: @nessa-stark your wish is my command!! hope I've done it justice <3

warnings: none gn reader

Outside, rain lashes down onto the pavements in thick sheets, drowning out the sound of the kettle boiling in the kitchen, or George's strange shuffling around in his room - probably some sort of yoga, though you dare not go and check. The sky is a deep grey, and it's hard to see anything out of the living room window with all of the raindrops on the window. Instead of people watching, you opt to follow the falling droplets, racing down the clear glass to reach the windowsill.

There's something about rainy days that calms you. Maybe it's the sound, or the comfort of sitting inside, dry and warm, as the weather takes its toll on the world beyond.

The living room door creaks, and you glance over at it. Lockwood walks in, holding two steaming mugs, and grins at you. At the sight, a shiver runs down your spine, and you smile, pulling yourself away from the window to gratefully take one of the mugs from him.

"I remembered the honey this time," he says as he sits on his armchair. "Didn't want a repeat of last time."

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the sofa, propping your feet up beside you. "Don't be dramatic. I still drank it."

"You looked like you wanted to cry," he says.

"Did not. You, Anthony Lockwood, love to exaggerate."

He only laughs, turning his attention to the magazine you set out on the table for him this morning after picking it up on your shopping trip. It's funny how enthralled he becomes by them, totally oblivious to the world around him. You could set the sofa on fire, and he'd still be busy reading about how Rotwell has released a new prototype, or Penelope Fittes hosting another party.

You sit content just admiring him for a minute. His hair falls onto his forehead, still slightly damp from when he'd nipped out to Satchel's earlier to stock up on more salt bombs and such, and his cheeks are rosy from the heat in the living room. In one hand, he holds the handle of his mug, perched on the arm of his chair, while the other holds the magazine. He reads it as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. Rather than his usual shirt and tie, he's dressed more casually today, wearing his rarely-seen hoodie and T-shirt combo. It suits him.

"Let's go outside."

Surprisingly, Lockwood looks up from his magazine. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's go outside."

"It's chucking it down," he says, frowning. "We'd get soaked immediately."

Leaning over the sofa's arm, you pluck your shoes off the ground, haphazardly thrown there after your shopping trip this morning, and tug them on. You scamper into the hall, tossing Lockwood's into the lounge, looking at him expectantly.

For a moment, he just sits and stares at you, one blink away from being bug-eyed, but he eventually relents.

"If I get a cold, I expect you to look after me."

You grin. "Colds aren't caused by rain, actually. Now, come on!"

The kitchen is cold and, when you throw open the back door, you're struck with a blast of freezing air that chills you to the bone. You've left your jacket but, regardless, you step out into the rain.

Immediately, you become drenched. The rain is heavier than it looked through the window, but you don't mind. Each drop feels like heaven.

Lockwood stands in the doorway, clutching his jacket tightly around his body. "You're insane, you know that, right?"

You spin in the rain, laughing. "Absolutely. It's why you hired me. You needed someone to make you feel less crazy."

Your jumper clings to your skin, and your hair is plastered against your face and neck. Water fills your shoes. The long, uncut grass grazes your legs, soaking your jeans even further.

"Get out here," you say with a laugh, running over to Lockwood.

Before he can protest, you grab his warm hands and tug him out of the door. His head ducks slightly when the rain hits him, but, despite it all, he's grinning widely.

Lifting his arm above you, you twirl beneath it, hair whipping out behind you as you do so. The rain drips over your face, lashes against your back, and your skin is covered in goosebumps, but you barely feel the cold. Lockwood's laugh is enough to keep you warm.

As cheesy as it is, he keeps moving to let you twirl, or shuffles along with you in some kind of dance to only the sound of rain and distant cars speeding through puddles. It feels like a movie, a rom-com musical where the love interests dance in the rain, but if people were to look upon this, they'd see nothing more than two teenagers who have lost their minds. Two teenagers that definitely aren't love interests.

Right?

If your story were a movie, it would be the one with unrequited love. The one where the girl pines after the guy, no matter how hard she tries not to. A movie full of secret glances and little gifts, longing looks and eventual heartbreak. Well, that's how you've always seen it, and you've been given little reason to believe otherwise.

Lockwood can charm anything that moves with nothing but a smile and some pretty words. It's in his nature. He charmed you long ago, caught you in a net of emotions that you can never escape. No matter how many magazines you buy him, or how long you sit, admiring him, hoping he'll notice, he doesn't seem to realise. Not that it's his fault. He's the most oblivious guy you've ever met.

You don't mind too much. Having him as your friend is better than not having him at all, and you're content. Every day is spent with him in some regard, and that's more than you could ever ask for. You get to hear his little sarcastic remarks, the sound of his laugh when someone is being an idiot, see his enchanting smile. Nothing in this world would be tempting enough for you to give the privilege of seeing and hearing those things up.

Once more, Lockwood lifts his arm for you to spin, but you stumble, catching your foot on a rock hidden in the long lengths of the grass. Before you can even come close to falling, his arms close around you, holding you close to his chest.

He's impossibly warm, skin practically steaming in the chill of the back garden, and it's a warmth you can already feel yourself melting into.

Your eyes meet, and you're captivated. His eyes are dark, but they shimmer in the bleak outside with emotions - happiness, and something else, something hidden just so. You can feel his breath on your cheek, faces closer than they should be, but neither of you makes a move.

"Falling for me now, huh?" he says, but his voice is quieter than you would've expected.

Swallowing, you say, "That was the cheesiest thing you've ever said. Never do it again."

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips a beat. "If you say so."

Even still, you stand, held close to his body. His apparent reluctance to move has butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"I -" The words get caught in your throat. You're too busy studying his face - the way his eyes flicker over your face, how his lips quirk up in a softer rendition of his infamous grin, how his hair, plastered to his forehead, catches his eyelashes.

"Can I kiss you?"

The words catch you completely off guard and, for a moment, you need to confirm that you're not actually dreaming. But, no, the rain feels real, the chill feels real, his hands, carefully holding one of your arms and your back, are real.

It takes a minute, but you nod, unable to speak.

He smiles, moving a hand from your arm up to your cheek, holding you gently. Raindrops cover his eyelashes, glittering like little crystals.

Ever so slowly, he leans forward, and you meet him halfway, eyes fluttering shut.

Maybe your life is a rom-com. Dancing and then kissing in the rain, something you never thought you'd do, nevertheless with the guy you've been pining after for months. Sparks fly when his lips touch yours, and fireworks explode in your mind as your brain and heart throw a celebration. His lips taste like slightly too bitter tea, and they're chapped from the cold, but it's something you find you quite like. His hoodie, soaked beneath your hands, is soft, and you clutch it tightly, filled to the brim with emotions you can barely contain.

It feels like years before you part, breathing softly and gazing at each other, looking like idiots in the heavy rain. Lockwood is grinning like a madman, and you're probably no better, although you're likely bright red.

"What was that for?" you ask, and your voice comes out as little more than a whisper.

"Something I've wanted to do for a while," he murmurs, glancing down at your lips. "Is that allowed?"

"Kiss me again, and I'll let you know."

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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leakyweep · 8 months

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Caesar Clown x Girlboss!reader - Shut Up

Warnings: Pegging, gendered reader (she/her pronouns), degradation, hair pulling

@c0co2dayyy : Can you do a scenario or Headcanons where Caesar Clown is dating basically a queen/girlboss and he like does something that makes her annoyed and so she manhandles him and pegs him

A/N; I've never written for Caesar, so I hope I did him some justice! Thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy!

Words; 0.7k

MINORS DNI

So, we all know Caesar is a great scientist and a very intelligent man – and while he may not use his talents in the most… moral of ways, he uses them nonetheless. This enticed you to him… and in the end, it was a perfect match.

This was because while he was a scientific mastermind, he was a bit submissive. This isn’t only in a sexual sense. He often looked up to you, his business partner, for guidance on what to pursue next in his plans. Decisions on who to alliance with, who to manufacture for, who to protect… He entrusted all these things to you, his dominant and no-nonsense helper who would do anything to make herself more powerful.

Over time, he started to realize his dependency on you ran deep, and those longing glances towards you and the hopes he’d catch you on the way back to your room from the bathroom, clad only in a white fluffy towel, were not just intrusive thoughts. He genuinely had feelings for you– and this almost made his heart fall out of his ass. For while you were a very loving person, you were also a prevailing presence, one that would reject him harshly if you were to feel disgusted by his display of affections.

Your powerful aura presided as one day, you were sitting at your desk, working on some papers, running the business behind the scenes at maximum velocity to ensure success. However, your work was being interrupted by the sound of your partner’s voice.

You had tried to keep your feelings separate from work – undenying of the scientist’s handsome features and misty hair – but your emotions would always get the best of you in the end. And while you enjoyed his presence at certain times, this was not one of them. Work meant everything to you, obsessed with high achieving projects and goals. This required lots of attention, and focus, and it was hard to focus with the sexual tension in the room so thick you felt you could cut it with a knife. It was hard not to think of those nights you passed his room and heard him moaning out your name, too horny to think as you basically jogged to your chambers and imagined his fingers prodding your cunt, making you feel oh so delightful with those skilled hands.

Despite your insistence that he leave, he continued to buzz about you, asking if you needed anything. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed his collar and brought him to your face, so close you could feel his breath passing his purple-painted lips. You smirked as you heard the raggedness, noticed the pink dusting his pale cheeks.

“I’ve told you, Caesar - I’m working. Do I need to punish you to make you shut up?”

If he didn’t have a boner before, he certainly did now - and it took every ounce of willpower in his pathetic heart not to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. The commanding tone of your words told him that you wanted to see that, to see him tremble beneath you. To his- and your- bewilderment- he only groaned out a small- “p-please?”

Pulling his hair, you guided his ass back and forth on your silicone cock, relishing in the whines and mewls that escaped his throat. The power you held over him held its fingers around your neck, pushing you to pound into him from behind quickly and passionately. Your bed chambers filled with poignant lamentation – Caesar’s voice only drove you to thrust into him deeper, keeping your strap buried to the hilt with slow, soft strokes.

“Yeah, you love when I take care of you, my intelligent scientist?” Your words were laced with tenderness and libido, absolutely loving the way he took you with vigor and fondness. It made you feel as if you were his own deity, his words almost psalms as he took your strap-on hardily, his stamina basically unending throughout the night. He came when you took him from underneath, jacking him off in time with your harsh thrusts. It turns out he most enjoyed cumming when you degraded him, and he basically covered you in his creamy ejaculate.

His back was an arch, a U shape against your abdomen as you inquired, “Another round? I don’t think I’m satisfied.”

His only answer was a whimper, and you almost felt bad for Monet as he cried out your name when you filled his ass once again.

#caesar clown x reader #caesar clown #one piece #caesar clown fanfiction #fanfic #spicy #op

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kore-links · 4 months

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So anyways I’m making my own links meet au

Here are the designs! I’ll go onto more depth about my AU if someone asks but it’s called kore links Teheheh

First: strong headed confident leader (most of the time at least) who’s loyal to a fault with a ‘no funny business’ attitude. Try’s his best to keep the rest of them in check in his own way. Keeps his secrets to himself and himself alone.

Twilight: a kindhearted farmer who despite his looks is an absolute sweetie. He’s the one who actually keeps everyone in check and is like an older brother figure to all of them. Many sleepless nights have been had via nightmares from his adventures and a longing feeling that there’s still a bit of her out there.

Kore/koreidi: a so named high priest/priestess of farore aiding the group on their quest with strange magic and odd abilities. It’s quite odd how she knows everything about everyone else but nobody knows a smidge about them or his past, Half of the time the links don’t even know if they’re traveling with the same person or not. They’re quite rambunctious and eager to see the world but also focused on the task ahead like the sands of time are slipping away from her…odd isn’t it?

Warriors:a level headed captain of the royal army who also just so happens to be second in command to the tallest and the oldest. Cocky at times as a front to others to hide the fact that he HATES how he looks, Not because he’s ugly, but because he’s the reason a war started in the first place. Will never show it but he is one flirt or cat fight away from flying off the handle. All in all he’s a good leader when he needs to be.

Sky: the sleepiest hero by far and surprisingly the one with the most education experience. In by no means should you take him for granted in any way, he may like a nap but his sword skills are unmatched even by the standards of the very first hero! Quite sassy when needed but kind and courageous! The core of what a hero should be!

Wild: a quiet yet resourceful person who tries to not think about his life before the calamity , but it’s always lurking in his mind and there’s always an urge to find links to his past (AHaHAHA). He lost his arm after his last adventure, however purah did find some spare shikah tech that they hadn’t destroyed to make a new arm for him! He’s very close to his zelda and gets insecure talking about his scars. He doesn’t know why, he can hardly remember how he got them. Guess it’s just another reminder of how he failed.

Hyrule: The sassiest hero by far! He’s somehow a hoarder and has nothing on him at the same time. However sassy he may be his resourcefulness is absolutely what makes him such a good fighter! He’s great at puzzles and surprisingly is one of the more strategic links when it comes to dungeons! He’s also quite the magic user- but prefers to keep that hidden! If they ever knew about the fairy thing…yikes!

Wind: a fun loving pirate who loves his family dearly and is better on water than land. As much as a goofball he might seem his big brother attitude and his brave nature makes him a force to be reckoned with! Also surprisingly an astronomer at heart! All in all a brave young hero with the courage of someone 100x his size!

Time: a mischievous little creature who’s main goals are to prank steal and prank more. Despite this however he’s a sweet boy who’s willing to help his friends no matter what. He’s a little confused on his age at the moment but he’s sure he’ll figure it out…eventually! As chaotic as he is he loves giving justice to those who deserve it and will do exactly that!

Ravio: the definition of “I got lost but I’m not complaining”. Ravio is a random researcher kore/koridi found who tagged along in their search for the heroes. He’s a shy man who is a coward of cowardice was a human but when it comes to those he loves a bit of courage seeps through him (though he is practically useless when it comes to fighting). Ravio is, as kore puts it : “a purple deku nut who’s either as brave as a lion or as oblivious as a rock” endearingly of corse

#links meet au #link #kore links #omg I’m so nervous #digital art #so scketchy Ik don’t mind it #I still need to make banner/cover art for this comic lol

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blackjackkent · 1 month

Text

Rakha puts a lot of thinking into the stretch of hallway leading to Inquisitor W'wargaz's inner sanctum.

As always in tense situations, her thoughts boil down into a collection of facts.

The zaith'isk tried to kill them.

The doctor may be a traitor. Or perhaps this was what was going to happen all along.

The artifact, and the guardian connected to it, have protected them - from the zaith'isk and from the Absolute. The guardian has given Rakha brief flashes of peace.

The artifact is of gith make, a weapon, an "Astral Prism." The Inquisitor here wants it back.

There are two possibilities.

If Lae'zel is right, and this was a conspiracy of a few, then the Inquisitor can help them. If the Inquisitor can help them and see that they are properly cleansed, then there is room for discussion. Perhaps even for returning the artifact to the githyanki - though there is a compulsive, wrenching feeling in her chest at the idea of giving up the guardian's protection.

If Lae'zel is wrong and the zaith'isk was always meant to kill them, then the Inquisitor cannot be trusted. None of the gith can be trusted.

And in that case... murmurs the beast urge in her head, ever-hungry, ever-brutal, they will all of them die screaming in the flames...

She sets her jaw tightly, gives a sharp shake of the head, trying to quell back the dark thoughts. Lae'zel taught her to attack with purpose; is there purpose in bleeding this place dry?

Yes... keens the beast. Lae'zel has already proven wrong once. Do not listen. You need nothing. Kill. Kill. Blood. Blood. Blood...

She squeezes her eyes shut, fists clenching at her sides, and strides forward towards the massive doors of the inner sanctum as if she could outrun the darkness in her head.

-----

W'wargaz is waiting expectantly at the center of the sanctum as the doors slide open. His eyes fix at once on Rakha, then slide sideways to examine Lae'zel narrowly.

"My ardents spoke of one of our kin that escaped a crashing ghaik slave-vessel," he says. His voice is smooth, softer than Therezzyn's was; it carries a tighter air of command, more accustomed to instant obedience.

Lae'zel inclines her head stiffly in a gesture of respect. "Ch'r'ai," she says. "Vlaakith's justice in flesh."

W'wargaz smiles tightly. "You have accomplished much, child. I am pleased to finally meet you. I heard there is so much goblin blood on your hands that it soaks their children's nightmares..."

Rakha can see the way the words work on Lae'zel. She remembers the night Lae'zel almost killed her in her near-transformation; she remembers what the worm revealed in the young gith's head - a fear of insignificance, of failure. This acknowledgment from the ch'r'ai is exactly what she wishes to hear. Her back straightens. Her eyes go wider.

Not waiting for a response, W'wargaz turns his attention back to Rakha, who is staring at him unblinkingly. "To business," he says brusquely. "I suspect you plucked something precious from the ghaik ship. Something that belongs to us. The weapon. Give it to me."

"Don't do it..." whispers the guardian within Rakha's mind. "The weapon is how I protect you."

"Do it," Lae'zel snaps, as if in answer. "Do not disobey the Inquisitor."

There it is, then. An inescapable choice now, between listening to Lae'zel and the guardian. The two voices (besides Wyll) that have influenced Rakha the most since she woke up on the nautiloid.

But she did not come here to discuss the weapon - she needs to know if these people mean her harm, first. If the idea of the cleansing is real - if it was ever real. So she slips sideways around the question and demands instead, "How do you know so much about me?"

Because clearly W'wargaz knows a great deal about them - from far before they arrived at the creche.

"Some of your species say knowledge is power," W'wargaz says coolly. "They are wrong. Knowledge is everything. We took an interest in you when you became involved with this 'Absolute' cult. A pestilence of infected slaves - the first symptom of the Grand Design in action." His eyes narrow. "But you are lucky - that weapon you carry is the solution. I have heard it from Queen Vlaakith herself. Hand it over."

This is a lot of words, but no answers. Rakha scowls. "What is the Grand Design?" she asks, still making no move towards the artifact in her pack. She has heard Lae'zel speak the words before, but without context - and W'wargaz is right about one thing. She needs knowledge, more even than the beast needs blood.

"The Grand Design is what all ghaik seek," W'wargaz says. His voice goes cold. "The restoration of the Illithid Empire, which spanned the entirety of the multiverse. For centuries, their Elder Brains sought to bring back their dominion. Every plot they hatched, we stopped. But now they are close to succeeding."

He stalks a slow circle around the center of the room, his eyes never leaving Rakha's face. "Never before could they pause ceremorphosis. Never before could they let the infection spread undetected. You saw the thralls gathered on the ghaik ship. Imagine that everywhere. Wants, needs, choice - all would cease to be. Everything rendered unto the ghaik."

He comes to a halt again, directly in front of Rakha, his gaze boring into her. "So. The weapon." His lips draw back in a tight, skeletal smile, mock-ingratiating. "Please."

(A/N: This is interesting; I feel like W'wargaz's perspective here is better explained than I remember it being for Hector. Not sure if this dialogue got polished in more recent patches or if Rakha is just asking more questions than Hector did. XD )

"Don't give it to him..." insists the guardian, with a distinct note of desperation.

Rakha hesitates. She knows more than she did when she came in, and the Inquisitor makes a compelling point. If this Absolutist plot is a facet of a mind flayer push for domination, then the weapon is valuable indeed. But all the more reason that she cannot turn it over if their safety is not assured. The Inquisitor is offering no more cleansing than the ghustil did.

"I won't let you take it," she says flatly.

"Do not try me!" Lae'zel snaps. "Hand over the artifact, or die by my hand!"

Rakha goes very still. Her eyes do not leave W'wargaz but she is acutely conscious of Lae'zel behind her, of the tension strained between them almost to the breaking point.

Would Lae'zel truly kill her? Even Rakha, with her bone-deep bloodlust, has stayed her hand from her companions; there is something different about the bond they share, the challenges they face together. But Lae'zel is willing to threaten her over the artifact, over disobeying this man's orders.

She is loyal to her people, certainly. Or she is afraid of the ghaik. Or perhaps she is still simply angry at Rakha for her broken heart. The reason doesn't really matter. The threat is real, regardless.

And Rakha is surprised to realize, distantly, that it hurts. She has trusted Lae'zel's judgment, valued her advice, followed her here willingly. And it is all coming apart.

The guardian is right. This place is a trap. It was always a trap.

"Remember the zaith'isk?" Rakha mutters, low, hoarse. "These gith can't be trusted. Follow my lead - I'll choose the right path."

One chance. She will give Lae'zel one chance to back down. She doesn't really expect it, and the beast is already stirring in her head, ready for the battle to come.

But to her surprise... Lae'zel yields.

"The zaith'isk..." Lae'zel's head tips forward and her eyes squeeze shut, remembering the agony of the machine that almost destroyed her. She seems to be fighting with herself inwardly, a terrible battle - everything she was taught, against the experiences of the last day and whatever bond still holds her tightly to Rakha in spite of her heartbreak. "Tsk-- tsk'va! I hate that you speak the truth," she growls, as if the words are razors in her mouth. "Choose...your path is mine to follow..."

Rakha lets out a slow breath she didn't realize she was holding. "We are keeping the artifact," she says curtly.

Lae'zel swallows a hoarse groan, as if someone has stabbed a knife into her gut and twisted. "Our fate is forged..." she whispers. "Mother Gith, guide us..."

Any sense of good humor drains from W'wargaz's face at once. And - as Rakha, deep down, suspected he would right from the beginning - he draws the huge greatsword at his back. "Your illustrious adventure ends here," he growls, swinging the sword in a wide arc towards Rakha's face. "Hta'zith!"

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #whew this got long XD #but much easier writing than thursday thankfully; my brain was just not in it then lol #poor lae'zel :(#i honestly kind of hate the structure of this conversation and it didn't really allow rakha to ask the questions she actually wanted to ask #but it all leads to the same place anyway #time for rakha to shred some faces

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wizardofrozz · 2 years

Text

Kix x mechanic!reader, Captain Rex, Hardcase

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: swearing, mention of injury

A/N: I’ve been waiting to start posting my Life Day fics 😂 Most of them are my first time writing for a lot of these characters so I hope I’ve done them justice ❤️

Kix had been running himself ragged trying to keep up with the 501st and lending a hand to the 212th while their new medic was trained. With General Skywalker’s outrageous plans that had your workstation full of gunships and Kix splitting his time between the two battalions, you could maybe steal a few precious minutes over the last few standard weeks. It took Life Day getting closer for your schedule to die down but that didn’t seem to be the case for your favorite medic.

You finally managed to scrub the last spots of grease off your hands, a rule Kix wouldn’t budge on if you wanted to visit him, and made your way out of the hangar. The walk to the medbay was uneventful since most of the troopers were lounging around in their company barracks, meaning you got there faster than usual. The door slid open, revealing a mostly empty medbay aside from Hardcase sleeping nearby, making it easy to find Kix sitting on a stool sorting through supplies.

“Hello, my love,” you greeted, wrapping your arms around his unarmored shoulders. Kix jumped so hard he kicked a box of bacta patches across the room before slumping back against you as his brain registered your voice.

“Maker above, cyare, are you trying to kill me?” Kix sputtered, scrubbing at his face.

“Sorry,” you giggled, kissing his temple. “Been busy today?”

Kix grunted, glancing over at the only occupied bed. “Busy with idiots.”

“What did he do this time?” you wondered, noticing the cast on Hardcase’s arm.

“Commander Tano initiated a game of hide and seek…again,” Kix grumbled, slowly rubbing your arms as he stared off, eyes a little glassy with a memory. “Apparently Jesse and Hardcase had the bright idea to hide on top of the same gunship so Jesse pushed him off.”

“That’s what all that noise was,” you mumbled, resting your chin on his head. Short hairs tickled your chin, a foreign feeling when it came to Kix. “Hm, you need a haircut, dear.”

“Yeah, add it to the list,” Kix huffed, using his foot to drag a nearby cart closer.

“You also need a break,” you urged, gently tightening your arms around his neck.

“No, what I need is to finish taking inventory so I can submit my order forms,” Kix argued gently, half of his attention already shifting back to his work.

“Kix,” you murmured, untangling yourself from around his shoulders to squat between his knees. Dull, tired eyes dropped down, your heart aching at the dark bags under his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this.” Kix sighed, his composure faltering and letting on just how exhausted he was.

“Then who will?” he countered. You knew his determination came from a place of love for his brothers and it only made you love him more. Although, it was slightly irritating at the moment.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, massaging the bridge of your nose. “I just…I hate seeing you like this.” You gestured vaguely at his slumped posture before continuing. “And I - I miss you.” Kix’s eyes softened, a longing you understood well clouding his whiskey-colored eyes.

“I -” he started, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ll come by when I finish up here. I promise, cyare.” The sincerity in his voice lifted some of the sadness off your shoulders and you managed a small smile.

“I’m holding you to that,” you teased, getting to your feet and running a hand over his short hair. Kix’s lashes fluttered as he leaned into your touch before he caught himself.

“Stop that,” he huffed, gently grabbing your wrist and dragging your hand out of his hair and down his face. You brought your other hand up to cup his face, forcing his eyes up. Of course, he shared a face with thousands of his brothers that you saw every day but as similar as they all were, they were each unique as well. You took a moment to just admire him, noting the warmth rising in his cheeks at your attention.

“Prettiest trooper in the GAR,” you mused, swiping your thumb across his cheek. A smirk slowly lifted the corner of his mouth, and a flicker of pride lit up his eyes, making your stomach swoop.

“Damn right,” he drawled, craning his neck to beckon you closer. You giggled but didn’t resist, aiming for a kiss until Kix stopped you by holding a single finger up. “Hold that thought,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his voice. “If I open my eyes and that bed is empty I’m going to glue your ass to it, Hardcase.” The strangled laugh that fell from your lips was extremely unflattering but it did make Kix smile faintly before his eyelids fluttered open.

“How’d you even know?” Hardcase whined, drawing both of your attention. Hardcase was sitting upright in his bed, arms crossed despite his cast, and undeniably pouting.

“Medic superpowers,” Kix deadpanned.

“I believe it,” you teased, letting your hands drop down to the sides of his neck. “Now, give me a kiss so you can get back to work. The sooner you’re done the sooner I can kidnap you.” Kix snorted, rolling his eyes playfully but closed the space without further prompting.

It took every ounce of self-control you had to keep the kiss chaste and of course, Kix’s quiet groan wasn’t making it any easier. You scraped together the willpower to pull away, resting your forehead against his for a moment.

“You should go before Hardcase gets a show,” Kix rumbled, lightly trailing his hand down the outside of your thigh.

“Don’t stop because of me,” Hardcase called, a smile obvious in his voice. You laughed, pulling away from Kix completely, allowing him to turn a deadly glare on his brother.

“I’ll break the other arm if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” Kix warned and Hardcase just smiled wider. With an eye roll, you pressed a quick kiss to your boyfriend’s head before stepping out from between his legs.

“Be good,” you teased, tapping Kix’s nose as you passed. The sound of the brothers bickering drifted into the background as your mind started to put together ideas for how to spend the one night you had with Kix.

Kix was ready to bolt when his assistant, Dart, finally came to relieve him. He was dead on his feet, barely acknowledging the greetings thrown his way as he trudged through the Resolute. Kix was halfway to your quarters when a familiar blonde clone cut him off.

“Kix, hey,” Rex said with a tight smile.

“Captain,” Kix sighed, rubbing at one of his eyes. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Hm?” Rex hummed, his brows pinching together. “I - nothing. You almost walked into me.” Kix blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked at his brother while his sluggish mind tried to process the last few minutes.

“Sorry, sir,” he settled on, opening his eyes wider than usual. Rex grunted, glancing over his shoulder at the other end of the hallway before moving to walk at Kix’s side.

“Where ya headin’?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Kix yawned, picking up his previous slow pace. Rex chuckled, ducking his head.

“Figured as much. I’ll walk with you,” Rex stated, switching his helmet to his other side. They walked in silence for a few minutes but Kix could almost feel Rex’s question threatening to burst out of him.

“What is it?”

“How are you?” Rex asked without missing a beat.

“Fine,” Kix grunted, glancing up to figure out where they were. “I just want to get to - I just want to go to bed.” Rex hummed, more questions obviously on the tip of his tongue but thankfully, your door came into view. Rex came to a slow stop outside your door, staring down at his boots as Kix waited for whatever he was mulling over. Then his brother’s expression changed, putting Kix on edge.

“I hope you like it,” Rex said with a half-smile. And then he was turning away, heading back the way they came from, leaving Kix to stare dumbly at the now empty spot.

“Finally.” Kix nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time that day, wide eyes zeroing in on your smiling face in the doorway.

“I’m gonna put a bell on you,” Kix grumbled, letting your drag him into your tiny quarters. He instantly noticed the wall of warmth he walked into, chasing away the chill of hyperspace that he hadn’t realized had settled in his bones. It took a few seconds for Kix’s brain to register what he was seeing.

All the pillows and blankets in your quarters and some you had to have stolen from storage were piled up in the middle of your bunk like a nest. A portable heater was on low power against the opposite wall, giving off a faint glow in the dim room and Kix smelled something sweet lingering in the air. The room felt…cozy.

“Come on, get your kit off,” you urged, pulling his helmet out of his hand. Kix blinked at you, working through his foggy thoughts as he mindlessly unclipped his armor like he’d done thousands of times. You held out a pair of pajama pants you had bought him last Life Day and he didn’t hesitate to peel off his blacks. Kix stood at the edge of your bunk when he was finished, raising a brow at the mug you were holding out to him.

“What is it?” he wondered, leaning forward to look at the dark, steaming liquid.

“Hot cocoa,” you answered, nodding at the mug. He carefully cradled the warm cup, letting the scent wash over him.

“Why?”

“Well, drinking hot cocoa and curling up in front of a fireplace was one of my favorite things to do around Life Day on my home world,” you replied, patting the spot at your side. Kix watched you for a beat but relented, climbing onto the bunk. He hadn’t even realized Life Day was approaching but to be fair, he wasn’t even sure what day it currently was.

“That’s not a fireplace,” Kix noted needlessly.

“Thanks, smartass,” you snorted, taking a sip of your hot cocoa. “Can’t really have a fire on a Star Destroyer so I had to settle for the next best thing. Luckily, Rex managed to borrow General Skywalker’s heater.”

“That explains it,” Kix hummed, taking a hesitant sip of his own drink. It had been a while since he’d had hot cocoa; it was probably last Life Day. He looked over at you, a soft smile lifting the corner of his lips as the warmth settled in his stomach, dragging him closer to sleep. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear,” you sighed happily, resting your head on his shoulder. Kix couldn’t really remember drinking the sweet beverage, let alone finishing it, the warmth of the heater and the familiarity of your presence lulling him into a trance. He blinked sluggishly up at you when you took his empty mug and his eyes followed you around the room. You climbed back into the nest of blankets, carefully directing him to lay on his back so you could curl up on his chest.

“Love you,” Kix slurred, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You propped your chin up on his sternum, your smile making his stomach flutter.

“Love you too,” you giggled, stretching up to reach his lips. Kix tried to reciprocate but the second his eyes closed, he already started to drift off. He managed to comprehend your suggestion to get some sleep before he was pulled under with the memory of your lips on his.

25 days of Life Day Masterlist

Taglist: @sleepingsun501

#clone medic kix #clone medic kix x reader #kix x reader #25 days of life day #the clone wars #star wars #tcw #kix

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 year

Text

tuesday again 3/21/2023

i didn't want to sit down and write this bc i was having too much fun playing viddy gaem

listening

IT'S QUICKER AND EASIER TO EAT YOUR YOUNG!!!

"i'm starving...darling,,," is very sexy but the way the lyrics slowly slide into something more and more horrifying until the chorus hits??? mwah. lovely.

my one critique is that this song is...breathy, for lack of a better word? does not showcase the man's magnificent pipes. oh well! there are other songs.

youtube

how'd i find this: im gay, also he is one of the most popular indie artists in the World. his first album went platinum six fucking times.

reading

i read all of frank miller's sin city bc im on a noir kick and i didn't have a good time. the closest i got to fun was (deadly little, always described as "deadly little") Miho, a mute japanese??? generic asian??? assassin who is tits out not in these panels but in almost all others, rollerblading around mowing down guys with her katana. that was a painful sentence to write.

i read a lot of genre fiction. i read a lot of older genre fiction. they are not written with me, a bisexual "woman", in mind. and that’s ok bc not everything has to be written with me in mind. rarely have i read something that is more For The Boys Only!!! than frank miller’s sin city. felt kind of gross and a little put off the whole time i read these and they made me a little bit upset and afraid of men in a way i have not felt since high school. now it does feel odd to go “i didn’t think this noir was very pleasant >:(“ but miller’s work feels unpleasant and distinct from, say, chandler or hammett in a way i am still having trouble articulating. it is possible that the misogyny in chandler is a flavor i already know and barely register the taste of anymore. it may be that i got tired of looking at miller's women with twelve-inch waists and nipples as full and perky as their mouths.

mostly i think the labor market in sin city is super fucked up. women in sin city exist to have their value extracted from them in a way that is different and worse than normal capitalism. like, i can see how someone would read these comics and go full SWERF. women are literal trophies, both arm candy and in a very upsetting trophy hunting way. especially in the final volume, women are machines of potential profit. aside from one landlady and one cop and one child who grows up to be a prostitute, all the women in this whole city seem to be prostitutes or prostitutes who have married up and out. like there aren’t really even any women on the street just walking or in diners. it’s all dudes.

this is probably a comics vs novels thing, but miller is often sadistic in a way that chandler is not. a guy dies on a page to make cool art. they fuckin mow through dozens of goons a volume. if a guy dies in chandler it’s usually bc chandler's philip marlowe has stumbled across a dead body accident and it becomes a tremendous pain in order to tip off the cops that a body needs retrieving without getting framed for the kill. marlowe (and by extension chandler) is a people person-- he is a detective bc he likes figuring out what makes people tick. he is alert and it's hard to get one over on him but his resting state is congenial. despite his job, he still does believe in the concept of justice.

sin city (more of a comment than a question) says "if people piss you off you should kill them." this is not to make light of the very real Situations that protagonists in sin city find themselves, but there are very few problem solving skills on display other than "apply dick" or "apply gun". VERY RARELY, "apply pussy". that last one almost never works out tho.

aside from All That, it does contain some of the best straight up art (not just comics art) ive ever seen. the command of light and shadow is incredible. the command of negative space is incredible. panels aren’t busy unless they’re showing the chaos of a scene. he doesn't draw every single brick bc that's not important to the scene. it’s really quite stunning.

also the MOVEMENT in this fringe is incredible. do u see what i mean about the nipples tho

watching

i gotta lotta fuckin bones to pick with the manda/lorian but they're all spoilery. this shit fucking sucks man. it's twenty fucking twenty three we have had well over a century to master storytelling through the art of the moving image.

all three eps so far have felt very weirdly edited-- like a lot of changes happened after filming and there wasn't enough time for pickups?? this is a gajillion dollar show just reshoot some shit on your little fake stage i am Begging you. at least bo-katan looked hot. god she's awful i love her

again again i say to ye, what if star wars was good? i am slightly terrified that andor may have ruined me for any s/tar wars that follows but by any metric these first three s3 mando eps are simply not good television.

playing

ty @pasta-pardner for gifting me Weird West some weeks ago bc it is the new thing i am obsessed with. this first trailer gives a better sense of the Vibes than the launch trailers imo

youtube

i find it is scratching a lot of the rpg itches that new vegas does: you wander around beautiful western settings running into weird shit, followed around by a hot butch you've recruited to your cause. unlike new vegas, it is a little less forgiving and you have to really scrap and loot everything that isn't nailed down.

this is a top-down action rpg with a weird little aiming system that is sort of a 3D twinstick? it takes some getting used to, and shooting is not the part of any game i am particularly good at. here's xbox wire's screenshot, which gives a good idea of how isometric it is and what enemy detection looks like. i do wish i could expand the minimap, bc some of the locations like mines or bigger towns can really sprawl.

i have one big annoyance bc it is a thing that made me take a break and sulk for a bit: as you're traveling across the map (not open world, location-based), you can run into Travel Encounters. you can decline to engage with some of them. you cannot save within or between the encounters unless you stop and make camp. if you're on a long journey to a different corner of the map, you might run into three Travel Encounters. if you die on the third, you are catapulted back to your starting point. this is tremendously annoying in the early game, so either take short trips or get good at about-facing and exiting areas quickly.

a writer i admire likes games that let him tell stories about what happened in the game to other people-- this is a game that very much facilitates that. i was ambushed during a Travel Encounter by the some outlaws, bc i accidentally let one escape while i was trying to collect a bounty on his boss, and that specific named grunt came back with a Vendetta. but! i met a dying outlaw from the band who kidnapped my character's husband in a different second encounter, swapped some bandages for a treasure map, and he is now a Friend for Life. so he showed back up to help me during that ambush AGAINST FELLOW OUTLAWS WHO SEEM TO HAVE SOME SORT OF MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING??? mWAH. DELICIOUS. LOVE SYSTEMS INTEROPERATING.

ive put like six hours into this, and it has five chapters with five different characters. i have not progressed past the first chapter bc i am having so much fun poking around. i am so so so grateful that the first character is a wife seeking revenge and not the other way around. ppl are throwing big baby tantrums in the steam forums about this but you know what? some husbands should be macguffins sometimes. widens their perspective.

i am fascinated by the drips and drabs of lore this game is feeding me. there's an order of witches with huge underground temples that (crucially!) they did not build, but have adopted for their own uses without really understanding who built them and why. i want to know so much more about their whole shit. there are werewolves but idk what their deal is bc i haven't met any yet.

i am a simple woman! i only demand perfect cowboy western-flavored rpgs and so far this is holding up. i will have more thoughts as i go along but goddamn is it fun to play. we truly do love a competent little rpg with interesting lore and good stealth mechanics that lets you loot everything in sight.

making

mostly fallow week, wrists hurty

made this tuna-chickpea salad for lunch. it is quite rich for a lunch. there are a lot of components that may be challenging to digest all together for a milennial with tummy troubles.

this would have definitely been improved by solid instead of cheap chunk tuna (or salmon. this would be great with canned salmon) and if i actually chopped the baby spinach instead of going "it's fine" and flinging it all in. or maybe wilting the spinach, but that's a lot of extra work and this would be a very warm, wet salad :/ the point is the chickpeas really want to sink to the bottom. i like that there is no cooking involved, only assembling, but realistically i have only half of these ingredients in my house at any given time. screengrabs from the site bc i paid a dollar but there's no reason you have to

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #this is 1600 words i am so sorry nyx

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threewaysdivided · 2 years

Text

Young Justice: Deathly Weapons

Crossover: Danny Phantom x Young Justice Season 1 Gen | Slowburn Mystery + Episodic Missions | Ongoing

A business agreement. A small-town hero, on the run and struggling. A danger few people even believe is real. When an unexpected face intervenes on a mission gone wrong, the Boy Wonder begins to realise that there's more to the story. And what started out as a hunt for answers draws the Team into a more complex web than any of them could have seen coming.

This long-fic is fully planned out and structured in “episode” blocks. Arc/Mission summaries under the cut:

Prologue For Humanity as a Whole

On the surface the meeting would seem to be quite above board.

Act I Part 1 Chance Encounters ∙ Shadow of Doubt ∙ Scars ∙ Phenomenon ∙ Ghost Stories ∙ Brave Faces ∙ Expectations ∙ Questions ∙ Interference

When the not-yet Team encounter a mysterious figure in the bowels of Project Cadmus, Robin files it away as a curiosity. When the same figure intervenes months later to save him, Aqualad and Artemis on a mission gone wrong, the Boy Wonder knows he has to investigate. Meanwhile, far from where it all began, a travel-hardened half-ghost is struggling to keep his head above water.

Act I Part 2 Social Commentary ∙ Trade Secrets ∙ Answers ∙ Propositions

So many questions, so few answers. The Dynamic Duo hoped that playing by his terms might coax cooperation from the stubborn fugitive they found. Now, with time ticking on and danger drawing near, the Boy Wonder considers a more direct approach. The question is: can Robin risk putting all his cards on the table?

Act II Part 1 Constants ∙ Roads to Safe Places

Dick adjusts to having a new face around the Manor. Meanwhile, Danny wrestles with the idea of putting down roots so far from home.

Act II Part 2 Second Impressions ∙ Assessment

The Team is getting a new member, and it’s one some of them have already met. Being able to walk through walls, disappear and fly are handy powers for a stealth-squad to have, but not everyone is eager to welcome a ghost to the group.

Act II Mission 1 Black Gold

High seas and high stakes! Learning to work with a new Teammate always comes with challenges, but when eco-terrorists commandeer a deep-water oil rig, the pressure has never been greater. With lives on the line and fingers twitching on triggers, will Phantom’s powers let them swim… or sink?

[Under construction ↓]

Act II Mission 2 Flashpoints ∙ Combustion ∙ Reagents ∙ Equilibrium

Phantom has proved his worth in combat but some of the Team remain unconvinced. A simple investigation into a potential Venom competitor could be a chance to clear the air, but with resentment simmering, Aqualad can’t help feeling like they’re burning more bridges than crossing them. Can Robin and Phantom get through to Kid Flash before things fall apart?

Act II Mission 3 Something Wicked ∙ This Way Comes

Batman and Commissioner Gordon make a breakthrough on Phantom’s case. Meanwhile a security detail on some mystic artefacts brings the Team face to face with a foe from the ghost’s past.

Act II Mission 4 Rituals ∙ Ill-lit Ships ∙ Withered Red Rose

An unusual energy spike on the Watchtower’s sensors sends the Team to investigate the mountains of Rhelasia, where the young heroes must intervene to stop a familiar cult from completing a mysterious ceremony. Afterward, a passing comment from Phantom gives Kaldur a lot to think about.

Act II Mission 5 In the Mists

Superboy worries about an upcoming meeting, while a radio call draws the Team back to the developing Gorilla settlement in Bwunda. Out in the jungle, the young heroes will need to have all their wits about them: something dangerous stalks the forest and night comes swift between the trees.

Act II Interlude China and Emeralds

It’s an important anniversary for Danny, and Dick is determined that he won’t spend it alone. Meanwhile, the Team looks back on the journey so far, and Conner gets a visitor.

Act II Mission 6 Enemy Lines ∙ Humans

Sightings of new weapons in enemy hands have Batman and the Team concerned that another smuggling ring has started under General Eiling’s nose. After a distressingly close shave, M’gann tries to learn more about her newest Teammate.

Act II Mission 7 Bitter Reunions ∙ Half-truths

Clues are falling into place and the Dark Knight does not like it. The young heroes face a tense mission as Robin and Phantom take the lead on investigating a potential link between two powerful enemies. What they find could be the key - not only to Phantom’s troubled past but to everything the Team has seen over the last few months. It’s time for secrets to come into the light.

Act II Mission 8 Into the Breach ∙ Séance

Armed with new information, the Team is eager to act. A recon sweep over the Bermuda Triangle feels like a diversion, but in a region infamous for strange sightings, not everything is as it seems. Danger awaits on a secret island, and grim news from old friends reveals the full scope of the enemy’s plan.

Act III Mission 9 The Other Side ∙ Alliance ∙ Mirrors ∙ Coordinates

Our heroes now understand what the Light aim to do, and they aren’t going to wait for a theme song. There are preparations to make, allies to find and a dire warning that needs to be delivered. Phantom has learned to work in the Team’s world. Now they must enter his.

Act III Mission 10 Rifts

Chaos erupts as the Light make their move. Will the Team and League’s preparations be enough to weather the storm… or will they be overwhelmed by sheer force?

Act III Mission 11/ Conclusion Checkmate ∙ Stalemate ∙ Pawns ∙ Covenants ∙ Family Matters ∙ All Good Things

The threat has been contained, but the heroes know they must take down the snake’s head before it can strike again. Supported by his Team, Phantom returns to Wisconsin with a plan to catch Plasmius for good. But Vlad is keeping even more secrets than he seems, and a last reveal leaves Danny facing one final, terrible choice.

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palfriendpatine66 · 8 months

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Hello again! Hope you're having a good day)

Writing/characterization anon reporting for duty again.

Maybe you could elaborate on how you see Anakin, as well. It would be a great honor and a big help to hear your take.

I mean, I've read metas that spoke about the more human aspects of his character, the trauma and vulnerability, the search for justice and the fear of loss that drives his turn to the dark side.

Also, some interesting points can be made about his connection to the Force and role as the Chosen One from the perspective of how touching divinity and yet being mortal messes with human beings on a fundamental level.

But then there's also the whole business of him being a capable commander and General?

Basically, I'm scared of writing Ani as too cringefail, or veering too much into "no flaws all hero" territory.

Also, the Obi-Wan and Anakin comic confuses me greatly. I mean, the kid chooses to stay. He clearly sees something in being part of the Order at that point. I wonder what moment made him change his mind...

Thank you so so much for taking time to read this and for answering my other ask!

Good luck and have a good one, pal.

I have been thinking about this all day, and I’m not sure I’m going to come up with a great answer. I’m definitely not the expert on all things Anakin and writing him is still something I’m figuring out. But I’m willing to let you know my thoughts, for what they’re worth! (Keep in mind I also have spent a long series writing Anakin as a good dad, and granted I did my best with how that *could* have come to be in entirely different circumstances, we all know Anakin Skywalker was not good parenting material.)

I think I can get away with a lot writing Anakin in modern aus, when it’s able/necessary to disregard his sheer overwhelming power, and Palpatine’s literal evil influence. When we take those away, it’s a less complex, overwhelming character to work with. Then I can focus on conveying his main personality trait: intense.

I recently wrote this from the perspective of (slightly manipulative) serial killer Obi-Wan in a letter to not yet murder Anakin that I feel like sums it up:

You love as you do all things: fully, completely, and without reservation. Your pain cuts deep because your passion burned intensely. You deserve a lover that will delight in every part of you, Ani. You need someone who will love you just as intensely and as fully as you give yourself to them.

Whatever Anakin does is intense. His anger is rage, his love is passionate and possessive. He cares too much, his worries are all consuming.

In modern aus I generally pick one side of that to play out or else it’s *too* intense for most settings. Usually anxiety. But also impulsiveness/moved by passion. Possessive. Eager to please.

In universe though? The sky is the limit, especially as it plays out with his connection in the Force. I also think it’s really interesting to play around with what parts of Anakin are revealed to whom (who sees uncomfortable hints of darkness, who sees the need for control, who sees that a lot of his arrogant or reckless actions are because he has the sense of responsibility that he *has* to be the one to solve the problem or win the battles or else people die)

I don’t know if this helps at all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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confusedbyinterface · 1 year

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Is Pentiment a fair mystery?

I will not totally go into whether you could solve it (if you did, let me know!) but

(Pentiment spoilers follow, like this would blow the whole case open)

Knox's Commandments

"The criminal must be someone mentioned in the early part of the story, but must not be anyone whose thoughts the reader has been allowed to follow." For sure

"All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course." Now here's a tricky one. Definitely while witchcraft comes up in both murders it's pointing to motive, not as a means. The real issue comes with Knox's "Father Brown" complaint: the supernatural shouldn't be used as a red herring because we know it's impossible. And, yes, a player in that mindset (or a rationalist Andreas) would think that of Amelie's visions: they prove she's got a direct connection to the crimes. Maybe I'm a fool but I didn't jump right to it.

"Not more than one secret room or passage is allowable" While technically two (at least), the first I'd say is more part of the evidence for the second. There's a perfectly good reason for the secret passages: the Romans built them and everyone just forgot

"No hitherto undiscovered poisons may be used, nor any appliance which will need a long scientific explanation at the end." I think we all understand how pulleys work

"No Chinaman must figure in the story." In terms of "don't just make the Sinister Foreigner the killer/red herring", for sure. Vaclav, Sebhat, and the Sommerfelds never come under suspicion

"No accident must ever help the detective, nor must he ever have an unaccountable intuition which proves to be right." Aside from Amelie happening to call out (is that even an accident? Let's say it is) or the standard "wow a murder happens every time you show up", no.

"The detective must not himself commit the crime." No he's not guilty he just has depression

"The detective must not light on any clues which are not instantly produced for the inspection of the reader." Nope.

"Watson" Magdalene, possibly?

"Twins" Apollo and Artemis may be mischievous but they aren't killers

Pretty good! The exceptions let both Knox and Pentiment come off well

Now for Van Dine who I expect will fare much worse

"The reader must have equal opportunity with the detective for solving the mystery. All clues must be plainly stated and described." Ok

"No willful tricks or deceptions may be played on the reader other than those played legitimately by the criminal on the detective himself." Yep. The only trick is the culprit directly lying to Andreas to throw him off the scent

"There must be no love interest. The business in hand is to bring a criminal to the bar of justice, not to bring a lovelorn couple to the hymeneal altar." Love is the only reason to do anything in this world, fuck you.

"The detective himself, or one of the official investigators, should never turn out to be the culprit. This is bald trickery, on a par with offering someone a bright penny for a five-dollar gold piece. It is false pretenses." Certainly

"The culprit must be determined by logical deductions—not by accident or coincidence or unmotivated confession. To solve a criminal problem in this latter fashion is like sending the reader on a deliberate wild-goose chase, and then telling him, after he has failed, that you had the object of his search up your sleeve all the time. Such an author is no better than a practical joker." Well, each murder has evidence but never 100% conclusive. As for the ending, they did logically conclude where the thread-puller is

"The detective novel must have a detective in it; and a detective is not a detective unless he detects. His function is to gather clues that will eventually lead to the person who did the dirty work in the first chapter; and if the detective does not reach his conclusions through an analysis of those clues, he has no more solved his problem than the schoolboy who gets his answer out of the back of the arithmetic." 100%, and process of elimination is logical

"There simply must be a corpse in a detective novel, and the deader the corpse the better. No lesser crime than murder will suffice. Three hundred pages is far too much bother for a crime other than murder. After all, the reader’s trouble and expenditure of energy must be rewarded." Oh, far more than one

"The problem of the crime must he solved by strictly naturalistic means. Such methods for learning the truth as slate-writing, Ouija-boards, mind-reading, spiritualistic séances, crystal-gazing, and the like, are taboo. A reader has a chance when matching his wits with a rationalistic detective, but if he must compete with the world of spirits and go chasing about the fourth dimension of metaphysics, he is defeated ab initio." As above, the supernatural is, seen rationally, the central clue to everything

"There must be but one detective—that is, but one protagonist of deduction—one deus ex machina. To bring the minds of three or four, or sometimes a gang of detectives to bear on a problem, is not only to disperse the interest and break the direct thread of logic, but to take an unfair advantage of the reader. If there is more than one detective the reader does not know who his coeducator is. It is like making the reader run a race with a relay team." It all depends on whether you see Magdalene as "the detective", frankly this rule is splitting hairs, if the brains trust is collaborating you get the same benefit as any one of them.

"The culprit must turn out to be a person who has played a more or less prominent part in the story—that is, a person with whom the reader is familiar and in whom he takes an interest." Not only that but you're present at the moment they decide to commit the crime

"A servant must not be chosen by the author as the culprit. This is begging a noble question. It is a too easy solution. The culprit must be a decidedly worth-while person—one that wouldn’t ordinarily come under suspicion." Passes but also fuck you

"There must be but one culprit, no matter how many murders are committed. The culprit may, of course, have a minor helper or co-plotter; but the entire onus must rest on one pair of shoulders: the entire indignation of the reader must be permitted to concentrate on a single black nature." This is a complicated one, I'd say it doesn't pass this rule but it works

"Secret societies, camorras, mafias, et al., have no place in a detective story. A fascinating and truly beautiful murder is irremediably spoiled by any such wholesale culpability. To be sure, the murderer in a detective novel should be given a sporting chance; but it is going too far to grant him a secret society to fall back on. No high-class, self-respecting murderer would want such odds." Definitely passes. The thread-puller has help but isn't some secret society leader

"The method of murder, and the means of detecting it, must be rational and scientific. That is to say, pseudo-science and purely imaginative and speculative devices are not to be tolerated in the roman policier. Once an author soars into the realm of fantasy, in the Jules Verne manner, he is outside the bounds of detective fiction, cavorting in the uncharted reaches of adventure." Again see above.

"The truth of the problem must at all times be apparent—provided the reader is shrewd enough to see it. By this I mean that if the reader, after learning the explanation for the crime, should reread the book, he would see that the solution had, in a sense, been staring him in the face—that all the clues really pointed to the culprit—and that, if he had been as clever as the detective, he could have solved the mystery himself without going on to the final chapter. That the clever reader does often thus solve the problem goes without saying." Oh, absolutely. The visions? The ongoing refusal to do foundation repair? The huge hole? Obvious clues when you know

"A detective novel should contain no long descriptive passages, no literary dallying with side-issues, no subtly worked-out character analyses, no “atmospheric” preoccupations. Such matters have no vital place in a record of crime and deduction. They hold up the action and introduce issues irrelevant to the main purpose, which is to state a problem, analyze it, and bring it to a successful conclusion. To be sure, there must be a sufficient descriptiveness and character delineation to give the novel verisimilitude." Fuck you.

"A professional criminal must never be shouldered with the guilt of a crime in a detective story. Crimes by housebreakers and bandits are the province of the police departments — not of authors and brilliant amateur detectives. A really fascinating crime is one committed by a pillar of a church, or a spinster noted for her charities." Mostly the case though you can easily blame Martin for everything

"A crime in a detective story must never turn out to be an accident or a suicide. To end an odyssey of sleuthing with such an anti-climax is to hoodwink the trusting and kind-hearted reader." They're all definitely killings

"The motives for all crimes in detective stories should be personal. International plotting and war politics belong in a different category of fiction — in secret-service tales, for instance. But a murder story must be kept gemütlich, so to speak. It must reflect the reader’s everyday experiences, and give him a certain outlet for his own repressed desires and emotions." I'd say so. It's a big motive touching on huge forces in the world, but this isn't about imperial or church politics, it's about a small village and how it sees itself.

etcetera. Well, the Martin bit edges against the "no doubles" but that's motive not means. And the letters aren't code, they're a bit cryptic but straightforward.

Surprisingly there was something interesting to say about Van Dine after all. I still don't like him though.

#pentiment #Van Dine #Ronald A Knox #long post

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 10 months

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Nevvie, if you don't mind, I just need a moment to wail about Athos being even more of a gentleman and a sweetheart in Twenty Years After.

I'm following along by audiobook, and I'm just past the chapter with the business of the ferry on the Oise, but in the chapter prior to that, the musketeers are in the middle of a falling out of sorts because Athos and Aramis are on the opposing side to d'Artagnan and Porthos, and I just -- d'Artagnan's so disappointed in the pair of them, and saying the most hurtful things in the heat of anger, and Aramis is shaking with rage (the fact that both d'Art and Aramis supposed that they could be walking into a trap and were ready to fight!). And Athos's gentle reproach of d'Artagnan, and it's all so sad, and then --

And then Athos breaks his sword over his knee, and commands Aramis to do likewise. And d'Artagnan not wanting the argument to end with all of them splitting up and Athos telling d'Art and Aramis that they are brothers and always have been, like a dad trying to reconcile his battling sons.

And gosh, Porthos isn't the only one who felt a bit choked up by all of them reconciling, I have to admit. xDDD

I am continually surprised by how lovely Athos is! How kind and warm he is! I've mentioned before, but the screen adaptations never do justice to these qualities in Athos. I really wish they would.

I don‘t mind in the least and I thank you so so dearly for this beautiful message. 💕 Athos really is incredibly soft, with all of them really. He‘s the rock, the one to balance all. The friendship wouldn‘t work without him. He always seems to know what must be done and he‘s always so strong for them all. Which is also the case bc he needs THEM. Maybe even more so than they need him. The moment he loses them, he locks himself in the wine cellar (which was hilarious but still tells you a lot about him really). Thank you for summarizing that heart-wrenching scene from Vingt Ans Après! 💕 And for sharing the Athos feels.

#athos #the three musketeers #les trois mousquetaires #alexandre dumas #vingt ans après

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windriverdelta · 2 months

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On the Night Lamp theory and alternatives

This is a summary post on my thinking about all theories that have Stannis Baratheon fail in winning Winterfell in The Winds of Winter. The Night Lamp theory does a fine job at explaining all the various little hints in the ADWD and released TWOW chapters, especially if we add "Bran/the Karstarks will betray Winterfell to Stannis" and "Ramsay will be eaten by his own dogs" to them, and opens the door for the Stark reunion while advancing Stannis' and Theon's arcs. The alternative theories meanwhile leave all these things hanging while dragging everything out.

I find their premises unsound as well. ASOS has alread signposted why Stannis might burn Shireen: "If I must burn one child to save a million..." and the Others. We don't need additional military/political failures as explanations. The idea that a Stark must liberate Winterfell is definitely not grounded in ASOIAF's normal depiction of justice. It is at best indirect, like Jaqen murdering villains in Harrenhal. At worst you have Theon's torture by Ramsay and Cersei's walk of shame. Stannis liberating Winterfell with a half-Stark army, at the insistence of Stark banner(wo)men and as part of a plan hatched by a Stark fits the pattern much better.

These theories tend to be highly contrived, too. Stannis somehow losing battle and sword and yet somehow surviving is more than a little farfetched. And yes, Martin has said that Stannis is alive in ADWD and will burn Shireen, so we know he'll survive that long. There is no evidence that either Hosteen Frey or Ramsay Snow have the skills to see through the incoming traps - and no, "What battles has the bastard of Bolton ever won that I should fear him?" doesn't count; we know from the Whispering Wood that battleplans that rely on the enemy's supposed faults are not automatically doomed to fail*. Stannis' army surviving a defeat is definitely impossible as it's repeatedly stated in Asha's chapters that it is almost out of food.

*And it's not guaranteed that Ramsay will actually ride out - we don't see it happening, Theon is heavily conditioned and he sees Ramsay everywhere even when not plausible, the Pink Letter suggests that he'll be busy murdering dad and spearwifes. Actually the Green Fork scenario - where Tywin made assumptions about Robb, still won the battle, but Robb wasn't there - is possible, with the distinction that instead of a Whispering Wood we get Jon's assassination, since Robb was actually a good commander while Ramsay shows no evidence.

#twow speculation #asoiaf #stannis baratheon #ramsay snow #winterfell #night lamp #the winds of winter #theon greyjoy #house stark

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queengiuliettafirstlady · 2 years

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Royal affair

Fandom Ikemen Prince

Pair Gilbert Von Obsidian x Ilhana

Part of Ikemen Prince Gift exchange @ikemen-prince-gift-exchange

Thank you so much @aquagirl1978 for hosting such a nice event I was so happy to join 🤗😊

This is my gift for the darling @ikemen-writer I really do hope you will like this work, not to mention my desire to have made your OC justice and to have portrayed Gilbert faithfully enough to the picture you wished for. 🤗😊

Tag list @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @atelieredux @klutzyroses @scorchieart @randonauticrap @thewitchofbooks @princess-pray-a @itsjudesfault

It was a sunny day in Obsidian, even though she was used to the warmer weather she soon grew accustomed to the windier and cloudy weather of what she called her new home, having meet its Commander almost by chance during a town visit proved to be its luckiest day and soon she found herself drawn to that peculiar man each day more, she could not say but there was something quite alluring in his red eye, cruel with his enemy as soft with her moody to a point even nobles dared not to bother him when around her, giving them some quality time to take advantage of before royal duties called them out to keep them apart and busy until late at night.

Immersed in her job she did not noticed a dark shadow approaching her, until his warm breath tickled her earlobe startling her a bit her focus shifting from the papers clutched in her hand to the tempting words whispered seductively in her ear

“ It is such a nice day to be spent like this. You do not agree mein hase ?”

His voice was enough to draw a smile on his lips making her obsidian eyes crinkled with affection as a pair of strong arms circe her from behind snatching the papers away from her hands

“I was working on them, you know ?” she said faking exasperation as Gilbert smirked leaving soft kisses over her neck, he can be so clingy and stubborn when he wanted too but she knew deep down that he behaved this way only to show her the depth of his love, making her take much needed break she would have otherwise skipped too engrossed in he work to think of anything else striving to make Obsidian a powerful and developed country with nothing to envy from any other, especially from the Zirus Empire she was the heir of.

“I know but you must not forget to relax.” he said nibbling lowly at her neck letting his hands caress sensually her hips before slowly pulling away, smirking at the sight of a glimpse of dissatisfaction glimmering in her dark eyes as a light frown was drawn on her lover luscious lips.

“That is why I am here, there is a place I want to show you.”

A promised murmured amidst the sun bathed garden all the animals stopped to listen as a fresh breeze rustled lightly through the trees and the bushes, casting a spell on every listener like he always did on the audience of nobles and military he attended, seducing them with his soft yet dark words, manipulating them in order to be obeyed without them even noticing forcing them to agree to his plans, calculated with rationality to the littlest of details leaving nothing to chance.

“Come with me.”

Slowly measured movements he approached her taking her hand in his, waking her up from his spell to hear her gentle voice agree with his words, eager to follow him anywhere he would have lead the way to

“Show me.”

He smirked walking along the garden hand in hand with the only woman interesting enough to caught both his eyes and heart from the first moment he met her by chance, she could not help but felt attracted to the charm emanating from that man cloaked in the allure of the night dangerous and seductive at the same time, drawn to like a moth to a flame even if this would have caused her downfall she was ready to for she knew he would have been there waiting for her with open arms accepting her for who she was, making her stay by his side where she deserved to be, next to him with the world theirs to conquer for a strong man needed a strong woman and he knew he had found one when a political embassy end up in meeting now officially the town’s girl, whose name he discovered to be Ilhana the heir to the Zirus empire’s throne, who by chance happen to be also an ally to Rhodolite, it should have been forbidden yet they could not help the growing attraction that pushed them to a long trail of dates, one more exciting than the others, soon flowed into love she decided to follow against her better judgement moving in with him, officially to improve the rocky relationship between their countries but deep down she did only to stay with him.

Suddenly he stopped, his voice soft yet commanding as he spoke

“Now be patient and keep your eyes closed.”

She couldn't help but smile at his habit, twirling people around his finger as he liked but she knew that in her case he was not manipulating her even more so because he promised her he would have done such a thing to his liebe.

She nodded obeying promptly, feeling him walk away for a while until his low voice resonated in the air.

“You can open your eyes, my kaninchen.”

she did as told and what a sight it was, her eyes widened like her smile seeing a giant rabbit plush placed in the centre of the gazebo.

“Do you like it ?” he asked murmuring seductively caressing her hand leading her into the gazebo

she went to it hugging it to her chest letting a cheerful smile appear on her lips, before he knew it he was enveloped in her hug feeling her soft lips brushing on his, slowly she pulled away feeling his grip on her hips tighten as his fingers tilted her chin upward to stare into her dark alluring eyes, his crimson eyes glimmering seductively under the sun as he whispered

I love you my hase, now and forever.” she smiled at his honesty confessing her feelings

“I love you Gilbert.” softly he brushed his finger on her cheeks while she continued “Thank you for your gift I loved it.”

“I am glad to know you are happy. I want nothing less than the very best for mein kleiner kaninchen.”

softly he lead her to her seat smiling softly at her caressing her hand, bathing in the surprise painted on her pretty features lightened by the sun rays shining through the gazebo and onto table full of all her favourite dessert, she smiled brightly at him but he shook his head dismissing her gratitude like it was no effort importing all the needed ingredient from the lands obsidian conquered in the numerous wars scattering all through its history.

They spent a wholesome afternoon, duty forgotten as they chit chatted freely like two normal lovers feasting on the banquet prepared only for her from the finest chef he hired in his palace to make every meal enough satisfying to make her not regret leaving her native country for such an insipid and arid land like Obsidian, continuing their relaxing day off until late at night showing of their love to one another in a more private way locked away from the prying eyes and curious ears of the palace staff, immersed in his room whose only light was their feeling for one another, conversing amidst low whispers well into the morning light where he decided to work along with her to let her make up for lost time but without getting too far away to miss her again, working steady until night in each other pleasant company they could do nothing but thank their love for showing a whole new side of the world they cloud call their own to enjoy, detached from duty and roles free to be themselves only with one another thank to the deep love linking them together.

#seasons of love gift exchange #my writing #ikemen prince #ikepri gilbert #ikemen prince gilbert #ikepri

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