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missaengg · 2 months ago

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An Illicit Masquerade Encounter

Day 1 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation 2024 hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, nsfw, smut, anonymous sex, vaginal sex, creampie, pwp, light aftercare

Prompts: Anonymous Sex | “We can go, or we can stay here and fuck.”

ao3 link here.

You noticed him the moment you walked in. It was hard not to, he was tall, muscular, and while his face was hidden, you could tell underneath the mask he was wearing that he had striking features. He commanded attention, evident by every gaze, both male and female, following him as he moved throughout the room.

You took a sip of your drink, a tonic water with lime, from a corner of the lavishly decorated ballroom observing the crowd of party attendees all wearing masks of their own. The Hunter’s Association had received a tip earlier that week that the leader of Onychinus would be in attendance at a masquerade ball, and you had been tasked with running reconnaissance in order to identify the potential leader. Other than the lead, the leader would be in attendance, The Hunter’s Association knew nothing about the crime boss of the N109 Zone, not their gender, their age, nor their appearance. You knew absolutely nothing.

Your eyes flickered from person to person, scrutinizing their mannerisms and associates for any clues as to their identity, but you found your eyes glancing back at the tall silver-haired stranger every so often only to forcibly tear them away to focus on your mission before they drifted back again. It was just so damn hard to keep your eyes off of him. He looked absolutely delicious in his black suit with red lightning bolt accents, his eyes flashing with an irresistible charisma that drew you in wanting to know more.

He moved through the room gracefully, stopping to converse with various groups of party goers as if he’d know them for years, though it was hard to tell if he did truly know them or not. While the masks didn’t completely cover one’s face, they covered a good portion making it difficult to identify the person in question though the mouth was left visible to make it convenient for attendees to eat and drink in merriment.

You prowled the perimeter of the room, preferring to observe the crowd in solitude without any — or mostly any — distractions. A breeze ran through your legs causing you to involuntarily press your thighs together. A long slit ran up the side of your dress practically exposing you to your panty line. Another couple inches higher, and the world would be able to see the black, lacy thong you were wearing as part of your undercover attire.

You snuck another glance, but frowned when you realized the man in question was nowhere to be seen where he had just been a moment ago. You swept your eyes left and right searching for a sign of this mysterious man without any success. The man in question stood at over six feet tall with broad shoulders, there was no possible way you would miss him in a crowd of any size.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped at the deep, silky drawl in your ear, their breath tickling your neck. You spun around only to find yourself face to face with the very same man you were looking for.

He chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement, his face uncomfortably close to yours. “Sorry, sweetie, did I startle you?”

“N-no.” Your voice cracked, entranced by his hypnotizing crimson eyes. “Not at all.”

He arched an eyebrow, indicating he didn’t believe you, but he pulled back. You exhaled in relief. Somewhere in between his captivating gaze and his face being so close to yours you could practically kiss him, you had forgotten to breathe. Your face felt hot, though that wasn’t the only place where you felt the heat. A sweet flush spread throughout your core, the building of your arousal causing you to involuntarily clamp your thighs together for the second time that evening.

The man hummed. His eyes bore into yours with such a knowing gleam you wondered if he knew just how turned on you were by his mere presence. You took a sip of your drink to wet your parched mouth, the cool liquid running down your throat doing nothing to quench the lust burning inside you.

“So, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to this evening?”

“Alice.” You offered your alias for the evening, a small arms dealer new to the N109 Zone. “You?”

“Sylus.”

Something about his name stirred a faint memory, but you couldn’t recall what it might be with how muddled your head had become. You couldn’t even recall why you were originally here in this plush ballroom wearing a sleek dress and a mask that covered most of your face.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you breathed out.

Sylus leaned in again, his cologne bathing you in a cloud of some sort of spice you couldn’t identify, the scent of which mixing with his own natural scent was sending you into a state of dizzy heat. He brought his mouth right by your ear, so close his lips brushed against you in an electrifying jolt, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips.

“Am I wrong to assume that you’re incredibly taken by my presence?” He all but purred into your ear. He placed his hand onto the small of your back pulling you in closer. “Because if I’m being honest, I must admit I’m quite taken with you.”

You gulped. Audibly. You suddenly wished you weren’t wearing a thong at how wet you felt yourself growing in response to the pheromones permeating off of this man.

“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” you stammered, doing a poor job of hiding how turned on you were.

“Kitten, I think we both know what I mean.” Sylus ran his hand up your thigh slipping under the skirt and lightly brushing along the soaked crotch of your underwear.

You quivered at his touch, all pretense of composure thrown out the window, a tiny mewl escaping you. Your mind clouded over in a lustful haze. All you could think about was how hungry you were for this man, how desperate you were for his lips to be on yours, his hands to tease you relentlessly, and for him to fill you to your absolute core, your mission be damned.

“I— Nngh!” Your body jerked when Sylus pressed his finger firmly against your clit.

“Kitten, we can go, or we can stay here and fuck. Which would you prefer?” His finger firmly stroked you over your thong.

You licked your lips, now bone dry, knowing that you were only growing slicker from his caress. “Stay here and fuck,” you whispered, your body involuntarily bucking against him.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck— Fuck me, please,” you pleaded, tears beginning to form in your eyes at how much you wanted him to take you. “Please.”

“As you wish,” Sylus murmured.

He whisked you away to a bathroom in a quiet hallway just as lavish as the venue, dimly lit with plush, red velvet seats and gold accents. As soon as the door locked behind you, he brought his lips to yours in a searing, bruising kiss, hungry and demanding. The intensity of his kiss caused your knees to buckle, but Sylus caught you before you dropped to the ground, picking you up easily and seating you on the cold marble of the vanity. He spread your legs open at your knees with his broad hands until they straddled his waist, the slit of your dress exposing your lacy, black thong for him to view.

“Hm?” Sylus quirked an eyebrow at the sight. “Didn’t see you as the lacy thong type.” His hands slid up your thighs, his firm grip giving away just how affected he was by the fabric barely containing your desire. He took in how your sweet nectar leaked out the sides glistening on your upper thighs, his eyes darkening at the sight.

“I’m full of surprises,” you breathed out, shivering at the primal need overtaking him.

His lips crashed onto yours again, in a series of mind-numbing, toe-curling kisses, each kiss pushing you further into a disoriented haze of pleasure. You softly moaned into his mouth feeling him tense with each erotic moan you let out.

“Fuck, I want to taste you.”

Sylus roughly yanked you off the vanity, spinning you around until you were bent over at the waist with both palms flat on the marble surface. He roughly pushed the crotch of your thong to the side with one hand running his finger in your arousal while his other hand undid his belt and pulled his slacks down just enough to free himself. Sylus trailed kisses along your neck while he slid his length along your sex coating himself in your sweet honey. The tip brushed against your throbbing clit, each brush releasing a guttural groan from deep within your belly.

You could feel Sylus’s breath quicken on your skin, his fingernails digging into the sides of your hips to the point of leaving crescent shaped bruises. He slipped in the tip, the sudden stretching of your opening snapping your head back against his chest along with a sharp exhale, walls clenching around him.

“Hah.. you’re taking me so well,” Sylus growled, sinking in further, stretching you with his dick.

You closed your eyes, arching your back into him. Sylus buried his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping a firm arm around your chest to hold you flush against him, fully burying himself in your warmth. His mask felt cold on your skin, the chill in contrast to the fever overtaking you adding to the pleasure you felt.

“God, you feel so good,” he grunted, rubbing his nose into your neck, thrusting into you with an animalistic fervor.

He pushed into you deeply, hitting your cervix with each thrust, each deep thrust sending a wave of pleasure throughout your core, moans tumbling from you so quickly he could barely keep up.

“Harder,” you panted, bucking your hips back to take him in deeper. “Take me harder.”

“Heh…” Sylus smirked, snapping his hips into you so sharply, you saw stars when he drove into your cervix.

“Oh, fuck.” You clenched around him, eliciting a hiss from Sylus behind you.

“Kitten, if you— clench like that— I can’t— I can’t hold on.”

You felt your consciousness slipping from his deep assault, the ecstasy building deep within your core ready to explode, but you still felt a spark of glee at knowing that this mysterious man you knew nothing about was also barely holding on to his sanity. The glee lasted only for a minute because you finally exploded, a strangled, mewling cry erupting from you in a passionate release. “Sylus!” On impulse you added, begging, “Cum— cum inside— Nngh, inside me.”

Sylus responded with deep, guttural grunts in sync with his feverish rutting, pounding your hips into his. “God, kitten, you feel— you feel amazing.” He allowed himself to let go, slamming himself into you down to the hilt, erupting in spurts, which you could feel shooting inside you and dribbling down the inside of your thighs.

He didn’t pull out immediately, keeping you plugged while he softened from the expenditure, panting into your hair. You allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, his arms wrapped around you in a cozy cuddle, your eyes closed, basking in his arms. You felt him press his lips to your temple.

“Well, that was lovely,” you heard him murmur.

You laughed, a twinkle of a smile. “Yes, it was.” You suddenly felt self-conscious of your current state, with your skirt bunched around your waist, a thin layer of sweat on your brow, eyeliner and mascara smudged into panda eyes, and this man’s seed and your juices running down your thighs. “I look like a mess.” You lowered your head, not wanting him to see you clearly in this state.

Sylus stirred behind you, his hand raising your head to the side so that you could see him from the corner of your eye. “No, kitten. You look beautiful,” he rumbled. “Now let’s get you cleaned up so you can rejoin the party, hm?”

He extricated himself from you, all of you, and you felt the loss of his body heat, shivering from the sudden loneliness enveloping you. Sylus gently turned you around, using the hand towels — actual towels because this venue was fancy — to wipe the big mess he made, so big the flimsy scrap of fabric you called underwear was unable to contain it all. He straightened your skirt, ensuring his hands grazed your skin as he did so, and then with a new dampened towel, tenderly wiped away where your makeup had smudged around your eyes and lips.

“There, like nothing happened.” Sylus placed his hand against your cheek, using his thumb to stroke you. “You still look lovely.”

“Thank you?” You replied in a quiet voice, not quite sure how to respond to fucking an absolute stranger — a gorgeous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless — whose face you hadn’t properly seen in the bathroom of a ballroom venue, especially one who was not only sexy, but also tenderly sweet.

Sylus kissed you, chaste enough that it was clearly a good-bye, but just racy enough that you felt another stir deep within your belly. “It was a pleasure…” he paused, an amused smirk gracing his lips, “Alice. Do tell The Hunter’s Association I say hello.” Sylus winked at you and strolled out of the bathroom.

Your eyes widened in surprise . How was it that he knew about your association with The Hunter’s Association? Or that your name wasn’t Alice?

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks crashing onto you from a great height above. The man you had just fucked… the man who oozed charisma and sex appeal… the man who turned you into a gooey mess of ecstasy… Sylus was the leader of Onychinus.

You buried your face into your hands, groaning miserably into the empty room.

You had just fucked the leader of Onychinus.

And you wanted nothing more than for the infamous crime boss of the N109 Zone to fuck you again.

#missaengg writes #visions of temptation 2024 #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads fanfic

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fairuzfan · 8 months ago

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Geneva - In new testimonies documented by Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor, female Palestinian detainees from the Gaza Strip report being subjected to sexual violence, torture, inhuman treatment, strip searches, sexual harassment, and rape threats while being arrested and held by Israeli army forces.

According to the testimonies of female detainees who were recently released following various periods of detention, they endured severe treatment that amounts to torture, including beatings, threats of rape if they disobeyed orders, forced nudity, strip searches in front of male soldiers, and verbal harassment. Members of the Israeli army not only robbed them of any money and belongings they had at the time of their arrest, but tied the detainees up, blindfolded them for extended periods of time, held them in cages amid freezing weather, and denied them access to food, medicine, essential medical care, and menstrual products. Israeli forces also continuously threatened them with losing the ability to see their children.

The Euro-Med Monitor team personally interviewed dozens of women who reported having experienced verbal and sexual harassment. The rights organisation believes that a greater number of female detainees likely experienced similar violations, however, but are uncomfortable disclosing information about the crimes due to social norms, trauma, or safety concerns, including persecution or death at the hands of the Israeli army. According to Euro-Med Monitor, it will take more time to determine the precise amount or scope of these violations against Palestinian women and girls.

A 45-year-old resident of Gaza City’s Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, “N.H.”—who requested anonymity due to safety concerns—told the Euro-Med Monitor team that she was arrested by Israeli forces on 28 December 2023. She was taken from a UN-run school housing displaced people in the Bureij refugee camp, in the central Gaza Strip, and held for 43 days.

According to N.H., the Israeli army stormed the school at dawn, summoned the male residents, forced them to take off their clothes, and detained them. After requesting to see their personal identification cards, the women were ordered to go into a room for a “medical check-up”. After entering the room, said N.H., “[W]e were searched while we were completely naked, inside a closed-off area, and the female soldiers beat us severely and continuously.”

She explained that she experienced multiple strip searches in public, with male soldiers present, and a female soldier insulted her, spat on her, and made remarks about her body while she was undressing. N.H. was detained for 11 days inside what she said resembled a cage for animals, and was shackled the entire time in bitter cold, with access to only a single shared restroom and no food or water. She also described being questioned about her family members while cuffed to a chair.

After being held in a cage for four days, the recently released-woman affirmed that she was questioned once more and threatened with not being able to see her kids again if she did not cooperate with the Israeli investigators. She also noted that she was verbally harassed by both male and female soldiers, who photographed her with their mobile phones to record her torture, in total disregard for her physical and psychological well-being.

For her part, 39-year-old “N.M.”, who also requested anonymity due to safety concerns, said that three of her brothers were killed in two separate incidents by an Israeli reconnaissance plane prior to her arrest. After storming the school she was sheltering in, Israeli soldiers forced the males there to strip naked before taking them and the women to a nearby mosque, confiscating their ID cards, and interrogating them all individually.

N.M. told Euro-Med Monitor that the Israeli soldiers threatened to rape her and to prevent her from seeing her kids if she disobeyed their orders to film videos attacking the Hamas movement. She said that she was moved to Israel’s Damon Prison, where she was subjected to incredibly restricted living conditions and interrogations on military matters while being unable to leave a small room.

Along the same line, a 20-year-old resident of the Jabalia refugee camp in the northern Gaza Strip named “S.D.”, who also asked that her full name be withheld for her safety, told the Euro-Med Monitor team that she was held for 50 days inside a state-run school sheltering displaced people in Gaza City. She described how Israeli forces arrested her, tied her hands behind her back, blindfolded her, and searched her while she was only wearing her underwear. She was taken to Israel’s Zikim base in a military jeep with other female detainees, where they were left for about two hours on a sidewalk at one point while the soldiers mocked them in Hebrew, a language they do not understand.

“The conditions of detention were extremely harsh; I strained a muscle in my handcuffed hand and an Israeli female soldier struck me hard on my back when I attempted to move,” S.D. told Euro-Med Monitor. “After that, we were transported by truck to a detention facility called Anatot in a mountainous area close to Jerusalem. There, the temperature was very low and we suffered from the freezing weather.”

She elaborated on being verbally harassed by Israeli soldiers: “We were left on a sidewalk for approximately an hour before being given gray prison clothes. We were then made to walk in a line while being teased and humiliated. Afterward, we were taken to a location that resembled a hellish cage, where we were deprived of basic necessities like food and toilets.”

During those days, she told Euro-Med Monitor, no food was served except milk, which detainees shared between themselves. “We were subjected to nasty verbal abuse and foul language, and we were only allowed to use sanitary pads in extremely small amounts—not enough for even a single day—and bathe infrequently,” she stated.

“The soldiers were harassing us, keeping us outside in the rain, and preventing us from praying,” she continued. She further reported that after eight days, she was moved to Damon Prison—after being attacked multiple times by female soldiers. “One of the female soldiers took the blindfold off my eyes and asked me to kiss the Israeli flag during the transfer process,” she added. “When I refused, my face was severely beaten. The female soldier continued to provoke and assault me in retaliation.” S.D. said that she endured a series of torturous interrogation sessions in Damon Prison until she was eventually released, and that she was also subjected to medical negligence there.

A 31-year-old resident of northern Gaza City, “R.R.”, who also requested anonymity due to safety fears, said that she was detained on 3 December 2023 while attempting to cross the Netzarim military checkpoint on foot to head to the southern section of the Strip. She told Euro-Med Monitor that all of her belongings—gold, cash, a phone, and personal items—were seized upon her arrest. She also stated that Israel forces made her undress before tying her hands together, blindfolding her, and transporting her to a detention facility at the Zikim site, where she endured excruciating interrogation sessions that included verbal abuse, beatings, and torture.

R.R. explained that she was repeatedly blackmailed, asked to work for Israeli intelligence, and that Israeli forces threatened to torture or even kill her if she refused. She also stated that her most basic needs during her menstrual period were not met. R.R. told Euro-Med Monitor that she was subsequently bussed to Damon Prison, where an Israeli soldier severely beat her. The interrogations continued; she spoke of being physically assaulted while undressed and detained outdoors in the bone-chilling cold up until her release on 19 January.

Euro-Med Human Rights Monitor confirmed that all of the aforementioned violations come as part of a larger campaign to dehumanise all Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, especially children and women, and thus justify and normalise all crimes committed against them. These crimes also come as a result of Israeli officials’ public incitement against all residents of the Gaza Strip, while their perpetrators enjoy absolute immunity, with no action being taken to hold them accountable at any level or from any party.

The Geneva-based rights group noted that a statement issued by United Nations experts week expressed concern over verified reports of flagrant human rights violations of Palestinian women and girls in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank, including sexual violence, rape and threats of rape, torture, and denial of food and medical care.

Euro-Med Monitor emphasised that, in accordance with the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Israel’s practice of torturing Palestinian female detainees by detaining them in inhumane conditions and committing sexual violence against them including rape, threats of rape, indecent assault, and forced nudity, are all acts which intentionally violate their dignity and cause great pain and suffering, and are considered war crimes and crimes against humanity. Additionally, said the rights organisation, these violations are a part of Israel’s genocide against Palestinians in the Gaza Strip, ongoing since 7 October 2023.

In view of the growing number of cases of arbitrary detention, enforced disappearances, administrative detention, and Israel’s application of its “illegal combatants” law—which violates international law—to prisoners and detainees in the Gaza Strip, as well as the documentation of testimonies regarding the systematic Israeli torture of Palestinian detainees, Euro-Med Monitor reiterated its call for the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) to take up its responsibilities and investigate the conditions of Palestinian detainees in Israeli prisons, particularly those involving women and girls.

The rights group urged the ICRC to take public stances and release statements each time Israel blocks it from carrying out its mandated duties, the most notable of which is paying visits to Palestinian detainees and prisoners.

Euro-Med Monitor also called on Alice Jill Edwards, the Special Rapporteur of the United Nations on the subject of torture and other cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment or punishment, to look into the serious crimes and grave violations that Palestinian female detainees have suffered, and to submit reports on these violations in order to help international courts and investigative committees with their work in examining and trying cases involving crimes committed by the Israeli army against the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip.

In addition, Euro-Med Monitor renewed calls for the formation of an independent international investigation committee specialising in Israel’s ongoing genocidal war on the Gaza Strip, and to enable the independent international investigation committee concerned with the Occupied Palestinian Territory that was formed back in 2021 to carry out its work. This would include ensuring the committee’s access to the Gaza Strip and opening the necessary investigations into all crimes and violations committed against Palestinians there, including the crimes of torture and inhuman treatment to which Palestinian women are exposed, as well as all forms of sexual violence.

#palestine #gaza

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ceoofyearning · 6 months ago

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I only pray, don’t fall away from me

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The world feels like it’s falling apart around you, but Azriel finally comes home and helps you hold all the pieces together.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt and Comfort, depressive themes & thoughts, anxiety, nightmares, mentions of a minor character death (not the mc/reader) || please mind the tags.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this week was though so here’s a bit of a hurt & comfort fic; hope your days are kind to you guys xoxo

Links: Fic Masterlist | My Art

You’re so damn tired.

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. The healing house has been filled to the brim with the wounded and sick. Altercations with Beron’s soldiers by the border have been increasing at an alarming rate, while countless spies from the continent have been winnowed in after being caught by Koschei’s contingent forces. You can’t even begin to imagine the state of the civilians that might’ve been caught in the crossfire.

There is tension in the air with the threat of the inevitable war looming on the horizon. It doesn’t help that the winter chill, in all of its foreboding fury, has come to ravage the lands and its people. You love your work as a healer, you really do. Some days, the thought of the good you do, the people you help, is enough to keep you going. But too often, it feels like a thankless job that leaves you drained to the core.

In your free time, you’ve been parsing through ancient texts in search of information on Death Gods and anything that could be used against Koschei. His looming threat is a cloud of dread that hangs over everyone, especially Rhys. The least you could do is to help carry the burden. It’s not like you could sleep, anyway. These days it is as though your mind adamantly refuses to let you rest. At the very least, the task keeps you distracted when you’re stuck alone in your apartment.

Ever since Azriel had been sent to the continent for a reconnaissance mission nearly a month ago, the apartment you share has started to feel a little too big, too desolate. Before you knew it, the white walls had been transmuted from your home into what felt like the bars of a cage.

The two of you haven't been apart for so long since the mating bond snapped. You didn’t think you'd feel his absence as acutely as you did, but it felt like the loss of a limb where the wound refused to heal and you were already bleeding out. His part of the bond is blacked out completely, a devouring void where Azriel’s comforting presence should have been. It’s for your own safety, he said. But you can’t help it. You’re plagued with worry, with imagined hurts and tragedies, amplifying the brewing conflict in your mind.

It is easier to catch yourself when Azriel is near. When the thoughts begin to swirl like a hurricane around you - winds whipping, oceans rising - it feels like Azriel’s arms are the only safe harbor you can rely on. But Azriel isn’t here now.

What frustrates you most is that you’ve been better recently. You’ve been good. You ate your meals, slept reasonably, even had a goddamned routine set up. You guzzled down your tonics in hopes of smoothing out the edges of your frayed mind, that perhaps it could lend you some semblance of normalcy. But no. Weeks of being haunted by nightmares, of overextending yourself, of loss and suffering seeping under your skin day by day have taken its toll.

You are just too damn tired.

A child died, barely over thirteen years old. She was bastard-born, which meant she had nothing to her name other than the rags on her back and her birthright to suffer generational oppression and cruelty. This is the worst winter the Night Court has had in centuries, and she didn’t even have a decent roof over her head. Needless to say, she hadn’t been in the best health. But despite that, the moment her cycle had come, the men forced her to go through the clipping. In her struggle, the imbeciles accidentally nicked a vital artery. Normally, her Illyrian healing would’ve granted her a strong chance for survival, but she had been so sick, her body weakened by hours spent in the frigid cold.

By the time you had been summoned to heal her, she no longer had the strength to recover. Numbness washed over you at the image of her unseeing eyes, the same shade as Azriel’s in the right light, trained toward the vast empty sky. You have a feeling it isn’t a sight you’d forget any time soon.

You don’t know how long it’s been. The room is shrouded with a thick blanket of darkness, the only respite coming from the dwindling candlelight by your bedside. Only silence exists within these four walls, interrupted by the occasional patter of water leaking from the kitchen sink. You burrow deeper into the sheets, inhaling the trace of Azriel’s scent that still lingered like it would somehow quell this ache inside you.

Despite spending most of the day bedbound, you’ve barely had any sleep. There is no respite to be found in the dreaming, only nightmares lying in wait. It seems your mind has a knack of bringing your worst fears. Azriel bruised, bloodied and utterly alone, lost, somewhere in the vastness of the continent, hazel eyes - his, then hers, then his again - glazing over, crimson seeping into the arid ground below.

For the last few weeks, you’ve gathered your grief and worry like rocks to wear around your neck. Your body is heavy, the phantom weight sinking and settling within the marrow of your bones, refusing to leave. It feels like you could stay in this bed forever until you dissipate into nothing but sand, smoke and thought.

You managed to send out a request for the texts Rhys needed translated, but not much else. You’re thankful he directly portalled them on your worktable because you don’t think you could brave the journey to the library today. You don’t think you could do much of anything today, in all honesty.

So there you lay, bundled up in a collection of blankets, at least three inches of cotton and down that never seem enough to warm you. A book rests in your hands, yet your eyes remain unfocused, not truly seeing the words.

You run your thumb over the crisp paper, knowledge older than you, older than this city and yet you couldn't even bring yourself to focus long enough to dissect their true meaning. Your will is liquid in your hands, slipping through the cracks in between your fingers. Accidentally, you tug too hard on a page and it tears easily beneath your touch. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve been horrified by what you’ve just done. But as you are now, it is difficult to care.

That’s what you feel like at this moment, you realize. These past few weeks have left you feeling spent, worn out, paper thin. Absently, you stretch out your hand towards the candlelight, close enough to feel the warmth lick against your cool skin. The flame casts a brilliant silhouette around your shadowed hand. It’s a wonder why golden light doesn’t seep right through.

That’s how Azriel finds you.

The front door of your apartment creeks open, letting in a flood of muted morning light. Your first instinct is to retreat beneath the covers to shield yourself. Azriel calls your name in the silence, worry permeating each syllable. No doubt, he is cataloging the mess your shared space had become in your unintentional neglect.

You say nothing, wondering if you could just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, anything to escape his scrutiny. A breath of relief escapes him when he finds you in bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you.

The urge to curl tighter around yourself is strong. But he repeats your name and, as though he had cast a spell, you unspool before him, your muscles unwinding, one fiber at a time.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, voice painfully soft.

“Okay,” you croak out from beneath the blankets.

Azriel gradually draws the sheets away from your body, giving you ample time to protest if you’d like. Then, he rests his hand on your shoulder. Unbidden, a shiver runs down your spine, followed by a stuttered breath. You don’t realize how much you missed his touch until his textured hand begins its soothing path up and down your back, his heat sinking into your skin.

Shame washes over you despite the bone-deep comfort you find upon his gentle ministrations. You don’t want him to see you this way. Azriel deserves better, the voices in your head insist. He deserves a mate whose mind does not devour itself at every given opportunity, a mate who does not quake beneath the weight of the world and the idea of their own immortal existence.

As though detecting your train of thought, his shadows leave their preferred perch on his shoulders to pool around you instead. Tendrils of darkness brush away the tears on your face, while some thread through your hair like a gentle breeze.

On the other hand, Azriel urges you to rest your head on his lap. He begins to run his hand through your hair, uncaring of how greasy and tangled it has become. Eventually, his voice pierces the silence, injecting warmth into the distance between you. He hums a tune you do not recognize, but you can't help but cling to each winding note like a lifeline. Azriel has always had a beautiful voice - depthless, silken and soothing. It feels like a privilege to hear the song that he normally reserves for his shadows.

You must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold, and yet Azriel never looks at you like you are. He always treats you like something to cherish, something to love, like you’re someone he’s spent lifetimes desperately waiting for and you’ve been entirely worth the wait. A traitorous part of you feels like you’ll never deserve it, this love.

Azriel must sense the hurricane of emotions waging a one-sided war in your head, despite the mental shields you adamantly keep up. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t brush off your worry with empty words and false promises. Instead, he simply says, “I love you.”

He speaks it as though it is a fact like one would say that the sky is blue, and the grass is green, and the world would keep on turning in peteruity, orbiting the sun the same way you’ll continue to orbit around each other. His chapped lips ghost over your temple, murmuring your name like a plea, a prayer.

“More than anything in this world,” he adds as he pulls you into his embrace.

Your body is pliant for him, arms winding around his neck like that is where they’re meant to be. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you impossibly closer. Webbed wings stretch to curl around the two of you, creating a cocoon of darkness that keeps the rest of the world at bay. With your head resting on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding in chorus with yours.

“I love you too,” you reply after a long stretch of silence. “But sometimes I wish you could’ve had a better mate.”

“There is no one better,” Azriel insists. “There is only you, my love; through light, through darkness, through whichever end. Only you.” And you feel the truth of his words as surely as the twinned beating of your hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to convince your traitorous mind that you could have this, that someone could love you so deeply despite having seen you at your worst. Azriel presses another kiss against your cheek, and despite yourself, you begin to believe his words.

You don’t know how long Azriel holds you like that, but it finally feels like a stretch of eternity you could bear.

“What can I do to help, love?” Azriel prompts, cupping your face in the cradle of his scarred palms - their texture, a familiar comfort.

You turn over his question in your head for a few moments, savoring his scent, the sensation of his skin against your own. A part of you is tempted to ask him to lay beside you for the rest of the day, for a week, for an entire lifetime. You know Azriel would if you asked it of him. But beyond this room, the world continues its elliptical path around the sun and time still ticks on regardless of how disconnected you feel from your own reality.

“A bath,” is all you manage to say.

Azriel nods, before reluctantly peeling himself from you. “Have you eaten?”

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble as you sink back into the sheets, sighing as the comforter swallows you up. In truth, you can’t remember when your last meal had been. Hunger didn’t seem so pressing in the last few days.

“That’s not what I asked.” Azriel’s tone leaves no room for argument or negotiation.

“No,” you finally answer, although with much trepidation. “Not yet.”

He hums, clearly displeased, but says nothing else. You can already imagine the frown that must be stretching across his face. But it seems Azriel’s presence alone is enough to quieten your mind, at least for now. You must’ve been dead tired because it doesn’t take long for the rhythmic sound of Azriel's familiar footfalls to lull you into dreamless sleep.

"Love," Azriel whispers, his hand hovering over your shoulder, rousing you from your shallow slumber. You blink languidly until molten eyes come into focus. The candlelight flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Azriel’s normally sharp features are softened by the tenderness in his expression. You’ll never tire of waking to the sight of him.

With a groan, you half-roll half-stumble out of bed. Azriel stays an arm’s length away in case you need him, but he’s careful not to crowd you. His shadows have no such reservations, however. The dark tendrils fretfully twine around your arms, making you smile. You thank them quietly, and for a moment, they seem to dance with delight. Regardless of your initial unsteadiness, you manage to pad all the way to the bathroom.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sweet scent of jasmine immediately overtakes your senses. The tub has already been filled up, steam rising from the sun-covered surface. You begin to unbutton your tunic, clumsy fingers tumbling through your first few attempts. Azriel steadies your hands with his firm grip, his shadows gently circling your wrists.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your tunic, and you nod, not wanting to think anymore. His movements are precise, almost clinical, while he undoes the first five buttons, before bunching the garment in his hands and pulling it over your head entirely. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh once exposed to the cold air. Azriel is careful to keep his gaze on your face, even as you step out of your undergarments.

Azriel only betrays his composure when he traces your cheekbone, like he can’t quite help himself. From this distance, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. The bond glows bright between you, the golden thread gleaming as though it hadn't spent the last few weeks completely stretched thin.

But then, Azriel withdraws, tilting his head to the steaming tub. Obediently, you step into the water’s warm embrace, the heat nearly stinging your skin. Logically, however, you know it’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to stay in the cold for too long.

A relieved sigh escapes you as you sink further into the tub. One of his shadows rushes to pillow your heavy head as it rests on the tub’s rim. You thank the sweet little thing, and swirls of black sway back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. Meanwhile, Azriel takes his place by the head of the tub, sitting back on his heels.

“I’d like to wash your hair,” he says and you're touched by the earnest quality his voice takes.

“Okay,” you breathe. You’ve never been good at denying Azriel anything, nor did you want to. The more the ice beneath your skin thaws, the more you find that you want him near.

Azriel begins by running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he pours warm water over your head. With a pop of a bottle, the floral scent of shampoo fills the air. He lathers the substance on your head, his touch tender even as his fingers work through the knots in the strands, untangling them with care.

After a while, he rinses off the suds and coats his hands with oil. He begins combing his fingers through your hair, starting from the ends and working his way up. The rhythmic motion of his fingers is calming as he draws circles against your scalp. You find yourself melting into the moment, feeling utterly content for the first time in what feels like a very long time.

Once done, Azriel grabs a small towel and asks, “Do you want help washing?”

You shake your head, wanting to do this for yourself, at least. Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he spares you a soft smile. With that, Azriel leaves the towel by the tub and politely excuses himself from the room. With the door left slightly ajar, you could still hear him move around the apartment followed by the lyrical clinking of silverware against ceramic.

It takes you a few minutes to gather the energy to lather yourself with soap, and a few more to finally rise from the bath. But once the grime is off your skin, you feel a bit of the weight wash off with it too. You feel a bit more like yourself.

After drying off, you tug on the silk robe Azriel has left for you, securing it loosely around your waist. Upon exiting, you spy him by the dining table, scooping a generous serving of soup into a bowl. The mouthwatering aroma of rich broth wafts through the room, and you realize just how hungry you are when your stomach growls in protest. You approach him from behind, making sure that each step is audible.

Azriel continues to set up the table, but you can tell he’s aware of your presence from the way his shoulders seem to relax. The sudden urge to have him close is palpable, an instinct so deeply ingrained into your being. So, gradually, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his back. You take a deep inhale, breathing him in - a lungful of moontime mist and cedarwood smoke.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmur against Azriel’s back, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispers. His hands abandon their task in favor of twining his fingers with your own.

Azriel turns to face you and holds your face in his hands. Beneath the swathes of sunlight, his eyes are alight with golden flame, flecks of green scattered over his irises like an afterthought. There is nothing but love in his gaze, nothing but acceptance.

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head so the words could kiss his lips, not quite touching but close. “For being here, for loving me, for choosing me, everyday.”

“I will always choose you,” he vows, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Today,” another peck on the tip of your nose; “Tomorrow,” one more on your cheek; “And all the days after,” he finishes with a chaste caress on your lips.

Then, he rests his forehead on yours, your bodies slotted against each other like a lock and its predestined key. In Azriel’s presence, you find it easier to breathe, easier to simply be. For the first time in a long time, your mind is clear and your heart beats in a calm, languid pace that matches his own.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you request, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel’s gaze is searching, scouring for any hint of anything short of absolute certainty. Perhaps you should tell him that in this world of constant change and chaos, he’s the only one you’re certain of.

Azriel must be satisfied with what he finds written across your features because he replies, “So kiss me then,” the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips.

You’re surprised to find that it’s easy to return the playful expression. Your rise to the tips of your toes while your fingers thread through his raven black hair. When your lips touch, it is as though the world breathes a sigh of relief. Reality realigns and everything outside the two of you and your shared breaths turns inconsequential. He moves against you with practiced ease, like the natural ebb and flow of the tide.

An eternity of this, you think, doesn’t seem so daunting after all.

AN: i’m not sure if that was too much but thank you for reading 💙 As always, i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk thru dm! 💙

Also, I just wanted to yap about the Az fics im in the process of writing:

1. Vampire!Azriel x Reader (Working tittle: Ashes in my wake)

I just love the idea of cannibalism (or yk, blood drinking) as a metaphor for love in literature so here we are. ( @/annikin-im-panicin this is ur influence) This one is a bit of a dark fic (nothing too crazy tho, I think), so i’m not sure how it’ll be received. But the idea has been haunting me for yonks so I just had to write it.

2. Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Lucien’s Best Friend!Reader (Working tittle: Drink dry the river Lethe)

This one is a multichapter fic (maybe 4-7 chapters, we’ll see) so it might take me a while before I start posting, but i’ve mostly finished writing the first (very smutty) and second (very angsty) chapter. I ‘m not entirely sure what direction to bring this yet but maybe you guys can help me decide?

Unrelated to Az, but i’ve been brainworming a poly dark-ish innocent!reader x Feysand fic, and a slightly less dark and more sappy(?) poly warrior!reader x royal!nessian fic. I’m so excited to start these but my pile of wips is giving me the stink eye 😂

#my fic #azriel #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #queued because posting gives me sm anxiety #acotar fic #azriel fluff #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #acotar azriel #acotar fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #azriel angst #mind the warnings my loves

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on-leatheredwings · 9 months ago

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Co-Conspirator

Yandere! Bruce Wayne x Yandere! (Fem!) Reader

> romantic > summary: Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend. > word count: 1285 > [ a/n: just something short, something cute, something for the Girls. i think mutually yandere relationships are a fun dynamic not very explored!!! Still, its pretty mild yandereism here. Trying to warm up to writing bitches who are Actual Freaks . uhhh lmk what you think. hope i communicated the reader's backstory well. the fact she's only a little crazy is amazing, all things considered. i'd love to make a whole fic of this but alas, i am Not Very Good At Plot]

You are dating Bruce Wayne. You bite your lip at the thought, hoping it disguises your shit-eating grin. You have been told you look like a total cheeseball when you daydream.

It’s a month-long relationship that’s still currently under the radar because you don’t have the luxury of a dual superhero-civilian persona. First, getting trapped in a pocket dimension for 10 years because something-something-Speedforce; next, being booted back into your home dimension and falling out the sky; then, wreaking havoc in Gotham City with your new, uncontrollable powers unmasked and in clear view of Gotham City choppers and news cameras… These things secretive identities do not make. No matter.

Hence why you tend to stay holed up in the Justice League’s Watchtower or your apartment, and rarely go out otherwise. But a month ago, you were bored. Neurotic. You decided to help your good buddy Batman. Fly to Gotham with your power and surprise him on patrol. And, well, you ended up saving Bruce Wayne (and hundreds of other socialites) after a three ton bowling ball careened into a gala at Wayne Tower, courtesy of the Riddler. Your telekinesis kept the whole building from collapsing. You guess that must’ve really turned Bruce Wayne on, because he was shortly afterwards chatting you up and won your phone number.

On your first date with Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor, you blurt out, flustering, that you don’t want to overshadow his charity and all the good work he’s doing. Bruce Wayne dating anyone makes headlines – let alone a superhero. Yes, yes. You simply didn’t want to cramp Bruce Wayne’s philanthropic style. It wasn’t that you were utterly unprepared to have that level of media scrutiny on you and were insecure about dating a man completely out of your league.

Bruce thanked you for your concern and then kissed you deeply, expertly, for your trouble.

You replay that night’s events in your head, and– goddamnit– cheeseball. You clear your throat and clear your mind.

“I think I’ll want a copy of his birth certificate from Gotham General.”

You glance at Batman, who is seated beside you, and see the corner of his lips quirk.

“Because you’re going to pull up his birth chart.” Batman knows astrology is an enduring interest of yours. You pout, pulling up Gotham General’s files and sifting through the database.

“... Maybe.”

You pause from your search on one of the Justice League’s supercomputers, sneaking a sheepish glance at your co-conspirator. Ever since you asked him to help with your… reconnaissance, he’s been nothing but a great help. And judgment-free. Batman is as paranoid and insane as you are, and that is why he is quite possibly your best friend.

You flush. “You know– I– Thanks, Bats. Really. I’m glad you aren’t acting all weird about this.”

Batman doesn’t say anything, but you know that he’s giving you his full attention.

“Like, I’m not a freak or anything. I just have to make sure I know what I’m getting into.” You puff your cheeks. “Know he’s… you know. Good.”

What a lie. You’re just scared and don’t want to get caught with your pants down. Despite being an actual living, breathing, metahuman and superhero… Bruce is the one with the power in this relationship. He’s… everything. Encapsulating. Towering. Anyone would want him. You think of the lingering looks very, very beautiful women give him. Everyone does want him.

You feel a pang of violent loathing and nausea that is tided over when Batman speaks.

“... I know plenty about Bruce Wayne. He’s… good.”

Your brows rise. You’ve only known the man for a few months but even you know that’s a glowing compliment coming from Batman. His highest praise on most people is usually neutral at best. “Hmm… okay.” You turn back to your work, laughing. “Well. I also just think he’s kind of interesting to learn about. What other celebrity has this much lore? The prodigal son… Prince of Gotham… Collector of orphans… Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor...”

You worry your lip, gnashing your teeth. Bachelor. That’s what everyone thinks he is, right? You blink and curiously turn to Batman, whose hands are flying across a keyboard, hard at work. You hope you’re not bothering him. W-well, he’d say if I were, right? you think.

“Is it weird if I put cameras in Wayne Manor?”

Batman stills and your throat dries. Damn.

“... Um… Too weird…?”

After a tentative silence, Batman responds.

“... No. You’re just covering your bases.”

Your cheeks fill with color as being vindicated – a view you don’t know makes his heart race marginally quicker.

“Yeah!” You cough, composing yourself. “I mean, yeah. You can learn a lot about someone from what they get up to when they think they’re alone.” You can also make sure they’re not bringing anyone home, but you keep that part to yourself.

“I could plant them, if you need. I have plenty made for this kind of surveillance.”

You’re smiling widely, wheeling your chair over to Batman’s side before you know it.

“... God. Batman, you magnificent mind, you. This is why we’re buddies.” You lean over and poke his chest cheekily, right on the bat emblem.

Bruce has to restrain himself from catching your hand on its retreat. Your poke burns a hole in his chest for minutes afterward, and he welcomes every second of it. He turns back to his computer screen, vainly attempting to not think about how much he wants to kiss you right now.

Perhaps Bruce should’ve simply asked you out as Batman. You spend much more time when he’s under the cowl than not. But frankly, you would’ve been too distracted during missions. Hell, he would’ve been too distracted. He already thinks of you all the time.

Your investigation into Bruce Wayne has tripped several of his alarms, even before you told him of it. Anyone making inquiries with this level of depth draws his attention. Nothing you’re looking is anything he’s averse to you knowing, so he’s allowed you to investigate him freely and without redirection. But of course, you don’t know that. The effort you’re making is… cute. The fact you don’t know that Batman is Bruce is cute. You think you have the upper hand. And that’s… cute.

Bruce doesn’t think too deeply about your stalking, even though he probably should. It’s probably evidence of an unstable individual. He’s sure ten years alone with no stimuli in a pocket dimension does things to a person. But who was he to judge? He’s violated the privacy and boundaries of everyone who affects his life in any important way. Nor does he claim to be a shining example of ideal mental health.

And at the end of the day, this situation is all under his control.

There is a small part of him that feels guilty for keeping his identity under wraps, but there’s a bigger part that’s amused. You don’t know that he’s had your birth certificate since the day after you met. You don’t know that there’s about twenty cameras working 24/7 in and out of your apartment. Or that he’s your new landlord. These are things he’ll tease you about once he confesses that he’s Batman. You’ve made him someone who likes to tease.

Still, Bruce remains hesitant about telling you. How would you react? Would you feel betrayed? Hurt? Dread floods his bloodstream, an effect only the most depraved individuals in his rogues gallery tend to have on him.

Would you leave him? Hate him?

His eyes skirt towards where you sit. You worry your lip, eyes glued to a plan of Wayne Manor, no doubt debating where you want him to place the cameras he’s offered. Tension leaves his shoulders, almost imperceptible.

Luckily, the chances of that seem slim.

#yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #yandere reader #bruce wayne #yandere batman #batman x reader #i have got to make everyone crazier #mine

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esmeblaise · 11 months ago

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When will you learn that your actions have consequences

A few days after escaping from Sabos father Ace went to the Grey Terminal alone on a reconnaissance mission since the others were far more recognizable. Luffy, still freshly scared of losing one of his brothers followed him and Sabo, who was on Luffy duty, went after him. Unfortunately this was the day the Grey Terminal was set to be burned. While searching for his brothers Sabo overheard the Bluejam pirates talking about how the nobles hired them to do this and was distracted enough to get injured. Ace found his brothers in the fire and was able to hold off the pirates long enough to escape.

After this incident however they realized they had to be far more discreet if they wanted to survive and spent almost all their time on the mountain, never going into the city. Their strategy worked and led the people after them to believe they had died. Ironically the governments efforts to cover up the Nika fruit worked too well as the few who had seen Nika didn't realize it was important enough to describe in detail and Garp was able to squash any information that did get leaked.

masterpost

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #portgas d ace #sabo #sun child au #sun god nika #esmeblaise art

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 10 months ago

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(Genshin Impact) Jean, Eula, Rosaria, Ei, Shenhe, Yelan, Navia, Lumine rescuing their S/O

No one requested this, Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For A Hero" came on and demanded I write. ...Same thing happened for the AK-15 fic actually. I NEED A HERO, I'M HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO-

The moment Jean learns that her S/O had been kidnapped for ransom, her senses become so hyper focused and immediately sets off to alert the Knights of an abduction.

She wastes absolutely no time in tracking S/O, and does so easily with her and the others searching.

Her adrenaline kicks into overdrive, and she does not rest until S/O is safe inside Mondstadt walls, ignoring any injury sustained and insisting that she can keep going.

For only a brief moment, Jean loses control and doesn't even warn warn the kidnappers or attempt an arrest, immediately using her Vision to blow them back.

The sight of her S/O is enough to get her to snap back to her senses, and promptly make the offenders pay for their crimes by sending them to the jails.

With a sigh of relief, Jean feels the exhaustion on her body start to take its toll, but she smiles as she unties them.

(Jean) "Thank goodness you're alright. Let's get you home."

She gives her S/O the tightest hug of their life, and has one arm locked around them the entire journey back.

Eula absolutely loses it the moment she learned that someone of the Lawrence clan has kidnapped her S/O.

This was the exact reason she did not want them associated with her-

No. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Now was the time for vengeance.

Being the Captain of the Reconnaissance company, she doesn't have any difficulty in locating their whereabouts.

As much as Eula would like to make sure the Lawrence in question never take another step, she knows it'd be far worse for them to be alive and imprisoned by the Knights of Favonius.

With a swing of her claymore, she instantly puts down the attacker in an ambush and cuffs them. Her gaze turns to her lover before releasing them, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

(Eula) "Hmph, how careless of you to be captured by another Lawrence. Next time, you will not be so lucky."

By the way her hand was shaking and how close she remained at their side, they could easily see past her words and how worried she was about them.

VIOLENCE

Unlike most people in Mondstadt, her idea of justice is if the person never takes another breath again.

The person kidnapping S/O more than likely had no idea that she was even associated with them. That was their first mistake.

Their last mistake was assuming they would get away with it alive.

Rosaria stalks the kidnapper to where her S/O is being kept.

For the moment, they were unconscious.

Which worked for her.

Dropping down from the shadows, she quietly but violently dispatches of the kidnapper, taking extra care to not make a mess on S/O.

She unties them before carrying them in her arms out of harm's way, not making a comment until they woke up.

(Rosaria) "Good, you're awake. I'm glad you're okay, but be more careful next time."

Rosaria's grip tightens on them before gently setting them back down if they could walk.

What do you think happens when you kidnap God's girlfriend/boyfriend?

If you answered death, congratulations! You're right!

Ei on the inside is scared for their safety, but she knows that panicking will not make things better.

Instead, she goes out to rescue them personally while alerting the soldiers at her command to ensure no one escapes.

And to add extra insurance, she sends out the Shogun to find S/O as well, and to exterminate any offender with extreme prejudice.

The skies darkened and lightning split apart the clouds, striking at the entrance of the abandoned base.

The last thing S/O's kidnappers saw was a woman in purple, staring down at them with a katana held in her hand.

I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROOOAAAAACHING

There was literally nothing left of the kidnappers to arrest or bury, so Ei casually walked up to S/O before untying their restraints.

(Ei) "I am glad to see you unharmed. Do you require any medical assistance?"

For the next month, Ei and the Shogun personally accompany S/O to wherever they needed to go.

Ensuring that if anyone was stupid enough to try it again, they got to see what they would be up against.

EXTREME VIOLENCE

The red ropes on Shenhe is barely enough to contain the rage that swells within her at this very moment.

Someone dared to kidnap someone as loving and sweet as her S/O?

Thanks to them and the Traveler, she tries not to use violence as the answer to all her problems.

For this particular situation, Shenhe decides that violence will solve the problem that is the kidnapper's continued existence.

The very second she found out their location, she begins ripping and tearing through anything and anyone in the vicinity that she deemed was responsible.

The treasure hoarders that kidnapped them? Turned to ribbons.

The wooden doors trying to conceal them? In splinters.

That one Hilichurl sitting near the cliff minding its own business and not even realizing what was happening? It's now at the bottom of that cliff. (And if Shenhe didn't do it, you would've, you monster.)

Shenhe is absolutely stained red the moment she frees her S/O, her rage slowly subsiding at the sight of her lover.

(Shenhe) "I am here to rescue you, S/O."

Shenhe is almost super glued to their side from then on, never wanting to let them get hurt ever again.

And Archons help anyone who tried to again.

Yelan figured something like this would happen. Her enemies would try to kidnap her S/O as a form of revenge or luring her out.

Unfortunately for them, Yelan had a contingency plan if something like this ever happened.

Informants are able to pinpoint the exact location S/O was being held with relative ease.

She infiltrates the building and without warning, her strings immediately sweep the kidnappers off their feet and left them dangling in the air.

(Yelan) "Not so fun when you're tied up, is it?"

Ignoring their shouting, she walks over to S/O and gives them a smile.

(Yelan) "Sorry for the wait. Dinner on me?"

She seems casual about the situation, but when they're out of earshot of everyone, she gives them a firm but gentle hug.

Yelan was no stranger to losing people she cared about, but she was glad she did not have to re-experience the feeling today.

(Navia) *LOADS UMBRELLA WITH MALICIOUS INTENT*

Oh, perfect! Looks like S/O's kidnappers just volunteered themselves to be target practice!

Navia charges headfirst to wherever S/O is being held, not really worrying about the collateral damage other than S/O themselves.

Her bodyguards were able to find them quickly, and joined her in their rescue.

Navia lets all guns fly, making sure these punks would be taught a lesson they'd never forget.

NO ONE touches her darling, except for her!

When Navia finally gets S/O out, she has them in a near bone crushing hug, kissing them repeatedly on the face, being a bit too playful considering the situation.

But in private, she nearly breaks down crying as her hug on S/O tightens.

She was so afraid that they'd get hurt, or worse.

But she's thanking the gods above that they were unharmed.

The aftermath of the situation, Navia and her guards are almost stalking S/O. For their safety, of course.

Even though sometimes that safety has to be all three of them hiding behind a bush very conspicuously, even after S/O's insistence that they were fine.

Sadly, this was not Lumine's first experience with a close person to her being kidnapped. Probably wasn't going to be the last either.

While she is worried for their safety, she has no doubt that they're going to get them out fine.

Lumine blitzes into the domain they're being held in and clears out everyone in her way with nearly blinding speed.

No one has a chance to even react as she effortlessly takes out every single attacker, making her way to them.

Finally after knocking out their kidnapper, she has the guards who she informed the kidnapping about make their arrests as she personally attends to S/O.

(Lumine) "You're not hurt are you?" sigh "Good. Come on, let's go home."

Lumine holds S/O's arm the entire time as they get enough distance from town, remaining silent.

She couldn't find her brother, and she didn't want to lose S/O as well.

Brightening up the mood a bit, Paimon appeared behind them.

(Paimon) "Why don't we have S/O stay with us at the Teapot for a while?"

Lumine makes it mandatory for S/O to sleep in the bedroom with her, and has Tubby or Paimon usually keeping an eye on them so she has some peace of mind.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #jean gunnhildr x reader #eula x reader #rosaria x reader #ei x reader #shenhe x reader #yelan x reader #navia x reader #lumine x reader #jean gunnhildr #eula lawrence #rosaria genshin impact #ei raiden #shenhe genshin impact #yelan genshin impact #navia genshin impact #lumine genshin impact

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usafphantom2 · 4 months ago

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16 October 1947. First flight of the de Havilland Canada DHC-2 Beaver (CF-FHB-X). Single-engine, high-wing, propeller-driven, STOL aircraft. Flown by Russ Bannock and powered by a single 450 hp Pratt & Whitney R-985 Wasp Junior engine.

@ron_eisele. Via X

#dhc-2 beaver #aircraft #aviation #reconnaissance #search and rescue #cold war aircraft

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after-witch · 1 year ago

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Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Title: Best Regards [Hisoka x Reader]

Synopsis: You're tasked with looking for Hisoka on the Black Whale. You get more than you bargained for.

Word count: 3800ish

notes: violent noncon, sexual assault, violence against reader, descriptions of blood and injuries, victim blaming against reader

It was not in your nature to question Chrollo Lucilfer, and you weren’t about to do it now. Even when there was a small, hard, resilient pit in your stomach that wondered if this was the right move. Or if perhaps you should have said something earlier, before everyone separated. It’s not as if Chrollo was ever unreasonable, but everything was for the good of the Spider and if that meant acquiescing to his decision in this case, when he seemed so intent.

He had asked you to allow him to keep your nen until Hisoka was found and dealt with, and you handed it over without a complaint. Of course you did. It was the first time he’d ever asked for your nen, and if you were willing to self-reflect a little deeper, you might admit that it was at least a little flattering.

You weren’t, you knew, the strongest (or even close to it) of the Spiders. You couldn’t mow down a group with a sweep of your arm or lift up an oncoming car and throw it into traffic. When it came to delegating who was leading the charge in a mission that required anything like that, you were certainly not at the front.

You weren’t helpless. You could hold your own in certain types of combat, of course. Nobody in the Troupe was weak against the typical combatants you personally came across. Over-eager mafia guards with faith in their guns; greedy non-combatants eager to buy priceless forbidden trinkets… all could be dealt with using the knife in your pocket or a hard, horrible kick to their neck, cracking the bones like an egg.

But if push came to shove with a nen user, well… there was a reason you were not typically sent out alone. Your own nen was useful to the Troupe, but for reconnaissance only. Once you encountered a person, you could immediately identify them through their body heat signature through any surface.

All you had to do was activate your nen and begin to search, and spot the particular pulsating colors assigned to your target. From there, the rest of the Troupe could do what they needed. Which, admittedly, often involved the gruesome demise of said target--then or later, tied to a chair after all the information had been cut out of them.

Maybe you weren’t the strongest fighter. But you were loyal to the death, and Chrollo knew that. It was an attribute that one must have, in order to be a proper spider. That’s what brought the lot of you to this godforsaken ship, after all, isn’t it?

But now you were left without your nen, without that distinct advantage that gave you the upper hand when it came to finding your target. Chrollo would put it to good use. And he needed it more than you, because you certainly weren’t going to kill Hisoka, even if you managed to find him.

If you did find him… well. You were stealthy. You would slink away and find one of the others and set a beautiful chain reaction in motion, one that ended up with Hisoka exactly where he belonged.

But first… to find him.

To call the Black Whale a “ship” was an understatement. It was not a ship. No, It was an entire country, teeming with life; with people, fights, loves, friends and so many dirty little secrets.

Hisoka was one of those dirty little secrets. He was somewhere on this ship, and come hell or high water, he would be found. By Chrollo. By the others. By you, perhaps. And he would be dealt with, as others had been in the past.

The only problem was--how in the hell were you going to find him?

WIthout your nen, you were left to rely on your natural senses. They were heightened of course, but that didn’t necessarily make it an easy task. There were thousands of people on this tier alone… crowds and crowds, weaving in and out of public areas, arguing over this and that, laughing, yelling, calling to so-and-so over the noise.

In theory, Hisoka should be easy to spot. He was tall. He was outrageous. He never failed to make a splash, appearance-wise. If he was walking in a crowd, it wouldn’t be impossible to spot him, if you were looking for him. Yet no matter what room you searched, how many faces you scanned, he wasn’t there.

You’d wondered, though, if he might have altered his looks before getting on the ship. Maybe he toned them down to avoid being too obvious.

He had to know that the Troupe would follow him. He wasn’t stupid. He was many things, yes, but never stupid.

You pass yet another common area--this one even dingier than the last, which seems to be the trend--that proves to be fruitless, filled with only groups of people in varying states. Some look tired or hungry or sick. Some are arguing. Some holding hands. Some yelling after one another to come-back-so-we-can-do-this-and-that.

But no Hisoka. The same as the other rooms, the other corridors. Countless people, blurry faces that you wouldn’t remember in a few seconds, none of them the person that you were desperate to find. If only you could see his damn body signature.

And really… but oh, the thought shouldn’t come to you, because Chrollo would not have brought any of you here (surely) were it not true. Yet here it comes anyway, slow and practical: Is Hisoka even on the ship?

You glance around you, taking in the mundane faces once more. He could be here. He could be in hiding. He could be in disguise.

Or he could be somewhere else entirely, and all of this was a trap meant to lure the Troupe onto the Black Whale. Or maybe he was--

“Found you~!”

There’s no time to react to the deceptively jovial nature of Hisoka’s voice before your body whips backward and your stomach lurches hard, yanked by the power of nen-induced gravitational forces that pull you completely against his chest and refuse to let you move forward.

But you’re not helpless, are you? No. Your hands move quickly, pulling out the knife in your pocket and preparing to jab straight into an artery. Chrollo might not be happy if Hisoka bled out here and now, but it’s better than letting him get away--alone or with you.

Hisoka is faster, and your knife is thrust out of your hand with a sticky sound. You can tell Hisoka is gripping the handle tightly when the point of the knife is pressed against your back. Not in subtle warning, but truly pressed, the point digging into your flesh with a flash of pain. You can feel blood trickling down, wetting against your shirt, where it will surely stick and stain.

“You never were the strongest, hm?” His voice is right in your ear, his breath a mixture of some sweet concoctions. Gum and candy and mints. “Why did dear Chrollo send you out alone…”

You feel your lips curl up in a sneer, for all the good it does you, but whatever insult your mind was going to conjure is lost when Hisoka lets off a soft little hum and begins to drag you--though the word is perhaps not quite correct, as you’re stuck to him with his damn Bungee Gum--away. All the while, the knife stays in the flesh of your back, burning every time he gives it a little twist.

No one in this part of the ship pays you any attention after they see who’s dragging you. Eyes glance over you and quickly look away. Someone skitters off--maybe to find whatever passes for law enforcement, though they had precious little presence in this part of the Black Whale--but you don’t place faith in them. You never placed faith in anyone but Chrollo and to a different extent, the other members of the Troupe.

Present company excluded, of course.

Before Hisoka dips into one of the winding corridors past the common room, you jerk your hand behind your back. Hisoka easily bats it away, keeping you from grabbing the knife--or so he thinks. You let the blood you’ve gathered from your wounded back drip down your fingers onto the floor. You leave another smear on a wall just before Hisoka turns.

Blood, deep and red--your version of Hansel’s pitiful breadcrumbs.

With any luck, someone from the Troupe will find it.

The maze of the Black Whale has never been as irritating as it is now. Soon enough, Hisoka has taken you away from even the outskirts of the level, into what must be some little-used crew spaces. The room he seems to decide upon is sparse and dark, with metal walls and a few gas lamps giving the room a soft glow. There are no beds or furniture, only the lamps and a barred clock. Maybe it was meant to be a crew quarter before it was abandoned.

Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that once Hisoka has locked the door (where did he get a key? The question is tucked away for later, for Chrollo, for the others) he releases you from his hold and you stumble forward. Your back aches and the damn knife is still in his hand, twirled easily with his fingers.

He doesn’t quite look like himself. Gone are the ostentatious clothing and styled hair. Instead, he’s wearing something simple, a dark shirt and trousers, and his hair hangs loose. He’s still Hisoka, there’s no doubt about that. The smile alone is enough to give him away, now that you’re up close. But it’s enough to make him blend in with the masses, when you aren’t sure who you are looking for.

“Well?” He asks, splaying his arms out, holding the knife carelessly--like a toy. “Do you want to play? Or shall we wait for the others?” The light of the gas lamps makes his visage even more irritating to you. You want to shine a spotlight on him, show him for what he is.

You take a fighting stance, and he only quirks his head at you before his smile grows wider. More indulgent. But there’s no judgment on your end for that, no need for a bruised ego or snapping words. You’re not a combative fighter, and you never were. You could hold your own sometimes but… against Hisoka? The thought isn’t even worth entertaining.

But what else were you supposed to do?

With your back bleeding and your nen (such as it was) gone, you launched yourself at Hisoka with just the faintest hope of lasting long enough for backup to arrive.

How quickly it ends would be laughable, if you could find any of this funny. The knife he pilfered from you flies through the air, aimed at your chest--my heart, you think--and you manage to dodge just enough for the knife to slice your shoulder, cutting your shirt and taking off a layer of skin. It was thrown so hard that the blade slides right into the metal wall.

You could whirl around and try to grab it. But it’s smarter to keep an eye on Hisoka, so you do.

And… so does he. His eyes roam up and down, and it makes your stomach begin to harden, your thoughts turning to things they normally didn’t in a situation like this.

“Ohh,” Hisoka says, voice slow and sticky as his telltale trick. “Well, that’s a sight.”

You don’t know what he means at first. But when the sting of your missing skin catches up with you, you glance down at your injured shoulder. The knife cut through the fabric of your shirt as well as your bra strap, both of which now hang limply down, exposing one bared breast.

There’s only so fast your thoughts can go, trapped in a metal room with Hisoka, no clear way out, and a knife firmly embedded into the wall. Your eyes dart here and there, desperate for options. If you could get the knife out, you might be able to keep him occupied long enough for someone else to spot your blood, and if they did--

Hisoka sighs, interrupting your thoughts, and it’s almost like a croon which makes the hairs on your arm stand on end. Sensing danger was a skill you developed as a child, and it was no less fine-tuned as an adult. Something was going to happen. Something awful.

“Well, well--why not?” He asks himself. There’s a smile on his face and his voice and it sets your nerves on edge. “We’ll be here for a while. Don’t want to get bored, do we?”

You only have time to get out a gruff “What are you tal--” before Hisoka swoops in, extending his leg for a kick, and breaks your leg with his foot. It’s as simple as breaking a twig for him, and for you there is a bright flash in your vision just before you go down. The sound of the crunch is almost worse than the pain, but only for a moment, when you land hard and awkward and the pain bursting in your ribs sends stars into your eyes.

But you don’t cry out. You’re better than that, at least, it’s the one thing you hold onto in the moment as adrenaline and pain compete for attention in your racing mind.

Something else elbows in, as well, almost literally--Hisoka, pouncing down on you, tall and looming. His wrists grab your arms and pin them down to the ground. The carpetless floor is cold but you can feel sweat--or perhaps it’s the blood from your back--underneath.

“Should I break these too?” Hisoka muses, not quite addressing you. He’s smiling softly, almost serenely. It makes you hate him more. “I do so want to hear all your pretty noises.”

Hot breath pushes in and out through your nose and you grit your teeth.

“Fuck you,” you say, before spitting right in his satisfied, smiling, smug face.

But the bastard doesn’t change his expression at all. The thin dab of spit sits on his cheek and he just beams down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Well, it was your idea.”

You see his hand curl in a fist just before he punches his wrist out, short and swift, and breaks your nose. The sound of the crunch is registered first, before a heavy, sharp pain--the pain of splitting bone fragments--spreads across your face. Unbidden tears stream down your eyes, and you feel and taste the blood that pours from your nose rather than smell it.

“You know,” Hisoka says, leaning close, his breath hot on your bleeding face, “on some women, this might make them look less pretty. But on you?” He sticks out his tongue and laps at the spot underneath your nose, teasing your upper lips. “It’s darling. Really.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, a hint of bubble in your tone from the blood that makes its way into your mouth. You spit, managing to dribble some of it out. It oozes down your chin with your drool and tears.

Hisoka reaches out and tucks a sweaty piece of hair behind your ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?”

Somehow, it didn’t register before, what Hisoka meant. What Hisoka was planning.

You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen him act vulgar before; seen him groan and wet his lips in battle, flirting, cooing, sometimes even sporting an erection visible through his pants.

Speaking of--you glance down and see that “sometimes” has occurred now. And it’s then that things seem to click into place in your frazzled mind, pushing through the pain in your back and your leg and your face.

He’s going to…

The word doesn’t come, because Hisoka busies himself by tearing off the rest of your shirt, the bra flying to the wall with it. You have the presence of mind to strike out when his fingers dance along the waistband of your pants, but it does you no good. He grips your fingers firmly--they might be fractured, but there’s a rush of humiliating adrenaline that keeps you from focusing on it--and peels off your pants and underwear in a surprisingly swift motion. At least, you think dimly, he didn’t rip them.

There’s a slow thought process that begins to weave its way into your brain. What should you do, now? It wasn’t something that happened, wasn’t something even on the radar, of previous assignments and missions and heists. People who hated the Troupe wanted all of you dead. No one had--to your knowledge--tried to do something like this before. No one had been strong or smart enough to even get this close to you, much less the members who were physically stronger.

But this was Hisoka, and a completely different scenario. One that you found yourself unprepared for, physically and otherwise. Do you fight? You won’t win. Do you seethe and tell him exactly what you think of him? He might get annoyed and kill you, and then you’d be useless to everyone.

At least if you live, they’ll know Hisoka is on the ship. You can still help. You can still--

There’s a condescending gentle pat to your cheek--then another, and another. It doesn’t hurt directly but it jostles your face, causing fresh, sharp pain to shoot up your nose.

“Are you still there? Don’t pass out on me now… you should be able to take a few broken bones.”

You feel your gaze harden and it only makes him laugh. He traces a shape--a heart, the fucker--on your cheek with his finger before taking both of your wrists and pinning them next to your head on the floor.

When you glance down again, you realize he’s pulled down his trousers, which must be discarded somewhere in the room. You can see his naked, erect cock and there’s a strange realization that comes over you.

He’s going to fuck you. Here, in this isolated room, underneath the ocean. He might kill you after. Or during, who knows. It’s a fact that this will happen and that these are possibilities. The logical part of your brain holds onto this fact, as if it might make it easier.

“Ready?” He smiles down at you.

You’re not ready, and he knows this, and that’s what makes it fun for him.

He pushes inside with a single hard thrust, and you feel a burning sear on your insides as he presses his cock fully inside you with no attempt to ease himself (or you) into things.

“Mmm,” he groans, pulling out just enough to thrust back in again. “Tighter than I thought. The boss hasn’t had you?”

There’s a blossoming pain in your chest. Broken ribs or humiliation or some terrible mixture of both.

You grit your teeth and you don’t say exactly what you want to say, because it might make him angry enough to kill you, but you can’t let things slide entirely.

“Don’t--” Your breath hitches when he thrusts inside you harder than before, you’re sure you must be bleeding between your legs now. But you force yourself to continue.

“Don’t talk about him… you… you traitor.” You wish the word had some weight, but you can tell it means nothing to Hisoka.

At least nothing bad. Because you can feel his cock twitch inside you and it makes bile rise in your throat, hot and stinging.

Hisoka runs his fingers through your hair. There’s something sticky on his fingers--your blood?--that makes you wince. The deceptive gentleness only lasts a moment before he backhands you, catching your broken nose on his fingers. Tears fall from your eyes against your will, and you feel fresh blood trickle out of your nose.

“So mouthy! I love it!”

His cock twitches again and you feel him sigh at the sensations it must give him, to be forcing himself on you, thrusting himself in and out of your abused sex.

You don’t know how long it goes on. Long enough for the searing pain to turn into burning ache, for the pain between your legs to blur together with the pain everywhere else.

But eventually he must be reaching his limit, because he begins to speed up his thrusts, pressing the fingers on your wrist down enough to hurt.

“Tell Chrollo,” he says, a hint of an uncontrolled, breathy pant in his name finally creeping in at the direct use of Chrollo’s name, “that this is his fault.”

HIsoka’s fingers tighten on one of your wrists as he increases his force and his speed, and you feel and hear the crunch, the sharp pain joining the ache of your battered body.

“He sent you alone,” he continues, thrusting harder with every word. “He took your nen, semi-useless as it is.”

There’s no grand finale to his orgasm, only the feel of his muscles tensing above you, a single final push as he emptied himself inside you. And then Hisoka himself, leaning in to whisper in your ear, voice dripping with deceitful honey.

“He should have known better than to send a weak thing like you to look for me. He could have at least let you keep your nen… then you might have seen me coming, no?”

A chaste kiss is pressed to your cheek. You feel the stickiness of clear lip gloss left behind. Ah, you think, a dull, slow, stupid thought. Then he didn’t give up his vanity entirely on the ship.

You don’t move from your spot on the ground. You’re not sure you want to try, just yet. You hear Hisoka’s footsteps receding, hear the whining of the metal door opening and the clang of it shutting behind him.

For a while, you hear nothing at all. Nothing except your ragged breath.

And then your grunts and irritatingly soft whimpers as you slowly, agonizingly sit up. You don’t want to be found like this. Weak and bleeding and…

Your fingers fish around on the floor until you find your torn shirt, your underwear, your pants. It takes you a long time to get redressed. Your shirt doesn’t even cover you fully, and you fumble with your aching fingers and likely broken wrist to tie it off, giving you an ounce of modesty.

Every part of you aches. Some parts of you are broken. There’s a horrible soreness between your legs, and you know without checking that it’s not just Hisoka’s seed that’s leaking out of you but blood.

But you manage it. Carefully. Painfully.

Sometime later, the door opens again, a metallic whine.

But it’s not Hisoka, come to brag or finish you off. It’s Chrollo, standing alone, the lights of the hallway obscuring everything but his silhouette, which wavers despite the fact that he’s standing in place. Your vision is spotty, dizzying--from the blood loss or the pain or the stress or all of it at once.

His footsteps to you are slow, careful. You dimly register him kneeling in front of you and saying your name. You feel his eyes looking you over, and it’s a different feeling than Hisoka staring at your exposed, broken, bleeding body. But it’s just as open, and you only just resist the urge to curl up on yourself and hide what little that you can.

It would just aggravate your wounds, anyway.

You don’t see Chrollo’s expression when everything clicks into place, but oh, damn it all. You hear his breath hitch and somehow that hurts more than your broken ribs.

“Look at me,” he says finally, his voice soft but commanding.

And you do. Chrollo’s expression is neutral, calm. It’s what you need, maybe. What he thinks you need? You’re not sure if there’s a difference.

“Hisoka.” He doesn’t elaborate further, and he doesn’t need to.

You nod.

“I’ll have you taken care of,” he tells you. His words are slow and deliberate, and there’s an inkling of shame in your chest at them. You shouldn’t be in this position, not in front of Chrollo or at all. You’re meant to be above this weakness. Aren’t you?

There’s a few moments, and you’ve been around Chrollo to know what he’s going to ask next. It doesn’t make the way it turns your stomach sour any less unpleasant.

“Did he say anything important to you?”

You think. You wet your lips, tasting blood and mucus.

And then you shake your head. No. You won’t tell Chrollo what Hisoka said, because despite the way his words twisted something in you, deep down--it’s not true. You’re an adult. You joined the Troupe, fought for your place in it. You joined the mission. You agreed to go alone, agreed to hand over your nen.

Chrollo sighs. He inspects you, again, looking for tell-tale signs of what you won’t say to him.

And then he tells you, simply--

“You don’t have to lie. Not to me.”

It’s not an order. It’s not even a request, not really. It’s an admission of the fact that he trusts you and you trust him and you don’t have to keep things from him.

In the end, you don’t know what’s more bitter. Your failure, the mucus-tinged blood on your tongue, or the stilted admission that comes next.

"He said it was your fault. He said you shouldn't have sent me alone without at least my nen so I could at least see him coming.”

Your words sound robotic, even to your ears. How does Chrollo hear them? Hopefully for the mechanical repetition that they are. You don’t want the words to carry any weight, because you don’t believe them.

Chrollo closes his eyes. Then he looks at you, and it might just make you cry. Because his expression, just for the moment that he allows you to take it in, is absolutely dreadful.

It passes, and you’re glad, and maybe it’s the blood loss but you swear there’s a euphoric relief when Chrollo’s expression returns to neutral and he merely wraps his arm around you and assists you up.

You let him, biting your cheek to keep quiet with all of the pain in your broken, used body as he assists you to your feet--or rather, your one unbroken foot--before lifting you into his arms to carry you out.

You don’t want to wince. Or whimper. Or do anything but let your mouth fill up with fresh blood from the blisters from your teeth, the consequence of keeping quiet now.

Because above all, you don’t want to see that look in Chrollo’s eyes ever again.

In fact, you realize, grim--you’d rather die than see that look once more.

#hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #darkfic #afterwitch writes

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biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer · 5 months ago

Note

what about all of the tkatb characters reacting to reader having a kid or smt like maybe reader adopted a kid from someone they knew or smt "bad" happened to reader and reader had said kid, how would they react? Srry if your not taking reqs rn or smt like that, but I luv your blog!

Stalwart (All x MC/Reader - Having a Kid HCs)

So...it has been a long fucking time since you've requested this Anon, and oh-my-God am I sorry it took this long. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, but @deathcvltcivilofficial? Thank you for entrusting me with this.

Also, if anyone who reads this has been abused or assaulted, you've still got worth. You still matter, even if your culture or religion dictates otherwise. <3

TW: A lot of mentions of RAPE and SEXUAL ASSAULT!

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Stalwart: loyal, reliable, and hard-working.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Sol came to your home (because of the art project), you had warned him a child would be present, but he assumed you were babysitting.

Until you dropped the bombshell on him; that the adorable midget copy of you happens to be your child.

He would be livid deep inside. You have a child, a biological child?

He’ll immediately want to know who the mother/father of it is; and you bet he’s gonna find out.

If you have a child, it means someone got their disgusting hands on you, used you and was trying to trap you! He can’t have that, no no no.

Will be doing a lot more stalk- I mean *coughs* reconnaissance, y’know, to find out who this filthy pestilence was.

Emphasis on ‘was’. That person is going to poof from existence before the next morn.

Will be incredibly enthusiastic if you offer to have him meet your spawnling. He’d treat them like they’re a glass vase, he literally loves that child.

Would be intrigued as to how it was conceived, and, well, depending on your response, will make the murder way more deranged.

If you’re both dating (you will be), he will be incredibly cautious on how to push the subject forth, because he has all intent on marrying you (and painting your holes with his seed).

If said conceiving occurred on accident, say you both were drunk, he’d be annoyed. Less info on this other person, the worse.

If the sex was entirely consensual, he would be silently fuming. You had been with another. Someone who wasn’t him. And they dared to have sex with someone as hallowed as you? My guy will be itching to punch something.

If you end up having a more angry or avoidant response, or snapping at him about it; he’ll suspect something is wrong, probably won’t pry much further for now, he believes through time and trusts you’ll tell him…he hopes.

He’ll do digging afterwards, maybe even get closer to your child, and if your child spills the beans on how you never talk about their mother/father, and even get furious or upset for asking, he’ll become a lot more concerned. His mind will be thoroughly searching for a reason.

Until the day you start to crack…when you start to hint more and more towards the most horrific thing Sol could’ve ever thought of, something he would rather kill himself than even dare to think of.

If your child had been conceived under…well, if you’d been abused. Assaulted. Raped.

Sol didn’t want to believe it. Some sick, disgusting worm had…no. He knows if he thinks about it he’ll descend into a wrath-filled hysteria., and he can’t have that around you, or God forbid, the child.

All he can think of is how desperately he wants to find the (wo)man who did this and torture them in the most despicable, horrific ways imaginable.

If anything, his respect for you, for being able to cope with university and a child would be a massive toll mentally.

He doesn’t view you in a different light, or your child for that matter. It only means he’ll do the absolute best to aid you in any way possible.

Is willing to overcome his distaste of kids for your child (everything has exceptions). Would be trying to be seen as a father figure to it (although he’d much prefer if you called him daddy-).

Won’t push you into anything sexual, or anything extremely physical unless he’s:

A got explicit consent, and

B. the knowledge that you’re not opposed to it in the first place.

He’s 110% gonna try to have a good relationship with your child, partially for…familial reasons (especially if he's gonna be their step-father and your step-ladder) and also so that your child will be okay with his existence, after all, him being with you also depends on whether your child actually likes him or not.

Man is trying his absolute best for you, no matter what occurred with you and your miniature clone. <33

Hyugo would’ve probably heard from the Student Council that a couple students had children, so of course one day he’d find himself getting curious.

Will be pretty shocked when he sees you’re one of them, especially if he already knew you for a while.

Won’t really be opposed to it, he only detests extremely loud, spoiled kids. (You raise your kids well guys good job *insert vigorous HAND clapping*).

Will be curious when he realises you’re a single parent, won’t pry though, it’s not his business. Maybe you simply fucked around and found out. *shrug*

Depending on how closed off you are about the topic of your child, he will eventually start finding out details, either from you or just piecing information together from off hand comments.

Either way, somehow he gets into your home and there, in the corner of the living room, is a spitting image of you. Just…smaller.

Said child side-eyes him harder than Geo could dream of. To be fair, this child does kinda remind him of a young Geo, especially in personality.

After being acquainted with you both for a while, will offer the Small One candy (with permission from you obviously and no, not in a white van).

Small One is very on the fence about him, is judging his fashion sense very harshly the whole time.

The child called him a walking aquarium when he first showed up btw.

If he finds out (either from you or said child) that you were sexually assaulted or raped? He’ll be angry, but also proud that you were able to:

A. Keep the child and raise it.

B. Actually somewhat live your life.

Doesn’t lose respect for you at all, just tries to make it clear that he’ll support you in any way possible.

If you know the person who assaulted you, they’ll be subjected to Hyugo Sugimoto’s vigilantism. You, on the other hand, will be subject to Hyugo committing crime to try and aid you and the child in any way possible.

Geo resents children with a vehemence, he sees them as stupid and overly sensitive; mans just avoids them like the plague.

He’s known you well enough to establish that you’re not an annoying dumpster fire, and has come to the conclusion that you’re a somewhat tolerable person to be around.

Will hear (either from Brittney or Hyugo) that there are rumours about how you have a child, and he won’t believe them at all.

Until you confirm them, that is. Then he will simply be discombobulated.

Will feel a weird sense of disgust around you. (probably from his own daddy issues lmfao, my guy will think you’re like his parents subconsciously).

Anyway, after he ‘happens’ upon you and your kid one day, and sees how oddly kind you are as a parent; he’ll start to see you in a different light.

It might be a long while (it takes about 32 decades), but eventually he’ll become more curious about your descendant.

If you’re comfortable enough with telling him, you just state how you either had a fling or just broke up with a previous partner; he will be unsurprised, but a tad irked. (he thinks he’s way better smh how dare you MC)

If your child was conceived via…unpleasant means, he will be apathetic for a few mins, until it hits him one day that some sick person willingly, consciously violated you. It ends up making his blood fucking boil.

He will be the type to drop random spouts of blunt affirmations like; “You are competent, good job.”

Will end up being very awkward with the child, has no clue how to interact with one so he just offers them money and tells them to go play in an arcade or some shit while he watches and deathstares random people.

Will teach said child Japanese insults, if your child gets bullied for being a product of nonconsensual sex, he will teach the child how to punch people.

He tries his best, because your child is the only one he will tolerate; and also he needs them to like him so he can rizz you up by forgetting you exist lmfao.

Deryl is often seen as an uncle or big brother by a lot of kids, his warm exterior tends to make a lot of them really like him, and to be fair, he doesn’t mind kids that much either.

He’s known you for a while, and in all the time he’s known you, he’d have *never* guessed that you were a parent.

Let alone a single parent. Your grades are so high, you work your ass off and you’re a parent? Simultaneously?!

He’ll be genuinely awed, impressed as well.

Will definitely be curious about this child of yours, but won’t pry except its something you initiate.

If he ever meets this child of yours, he will end up being adored by them. This guy is actually extremely good with kids.

Will end up becoming closer with you as well due to this, and if he finds out this child of yours was a product of abuse or assault, he’ll just be…solemn.

And seeing Deryl solemn is like seeing a cat bark, shit’s fucking weird.

He will be angry that someone did such a vile thing to you, but if you’ve moved on, he’ll try to as well. Although, if you know who it was that did this…expect them to end up hospitalised.

Him and the child will bond over candy. You and him bond over knowing one another.

Also teaches the child how to play sports. Yippee. Also gives life advice and counselling. <3

And you eventually trust him enough to accept him fully into your life (and maybe heart who knows).

Crowe is quite fond of kids, he’s not someone who avoids them.

He’s also quite fond of you, although his interest in you is more…well, romantic.

He’s genuinely interested in you, so he wants to know more about you; and fortunately for him, he's known you for a while. You opening up to him (and vice versa) isn’t that new, although when it happens he embraces it wholeheartedly.

When you tell him you have a kid, he’s shooketh, but not upset in any way.

Would be a smidge jealous that someone had you before him, but oh well.

Would be very intrigued by this enigma that is the child, and when he eventually meets them, he tries to be nice (not over the top, just polite).

If he wants to be with you he has to get the child to like him, so he just acts naturally, which is him being a saint, and just overall serving as a source of aid for both of you, whether it be financial, educational or general. He’ll try his best.

He’s willing to help you in any way humanly possible, and I mean it. He goes all out. He also tutors the child if they need help with exams or homework.

If your child was conceived under force or against your will, he’d simply make himself an emotional backbone for you. He doesn’t pity you, but he does try to treat you a bit softer, for the sake of trying to make you feel more comfortable around him; he understands such an event is traumatic and quite detrimental psychologically.

If you’ve moved on and gotten therapy or aid, he will remain a source of support, my guy will just ensure to avoid sexual things around you, he doesn’t want to push any of your boundaries or upset you in any way, shape, or form.

He’s trying guys. <3

Brittney is actually really good with kids, which shocks a few people.

Not as shocked as when she hears you of all people are a parent, although, now that she knows, she can kinda see it.

Won’t really think much differently of you, although if she meets this kid she does become their rich single aunt eventually.

My girl will teach our spawnling about:

- Fashion, along with judging other people’s clothing styles;

- Skincare routines, depending on the age she’ll either recommend the bare minimum or just give a couple of things she uses;

- Makeup, won’t care whether it's a son or daughter, they’ll learn cosmetics;

- Boxing, girlypop can definitely fight, so she’ll teach your kid self defense and emotionally damaging insults to scare off bullies.

Will be willing to babysit for you, your child ends up becoming very fond of her and the two just tend to go to Zara or Myer and discuss what clothes are good (more based on fashion the older your kid is).

She’ll do your child’s hair (and yours as well dwdw you both have your own beauty sessions).

Also serves as a gossip generator, along with a pretty strongly morally-coded source of comfort for both of you. Tries her best when possible to be there.

If she finds out the child is a product of rape, she’ll only look at you as someone much stronger and resilient than she could’ve guessed. You stuck through something like that, and she can’t say much other than: “You’re safe now, you’re among friends.”

Will often use distractions as a way to try and ease your mind.

Is genuinely a great person to be around, and when she has the time and energy, she’s lovely to both you and the child (it’ll be her stepchild soon muahahhahahaah).

Jess honestly would gawk at the thought of anyone in her friend group being a parent. You’re all so young and just experiencing life for yourselves!

When she finds out you have a kid, she’ill be astonished, will blink a couple of times and then repeatedly confirm that you’re actually a parent and not kidding.

You looked too fresh and epic, especially for a single parent. Her ones always looked drained and half-dead, yet you were hopeful, lively, regal.

May or may not be terrified that your kid is a menace and will stab her-.

It’s okay she gets over it, she believes that if you’re as excellent as you are, your kid will be similar.

And she’s partially right, your kid is based af; although, like most kids, they are a menace.

They don’t trust her much at first, but overtime they both form a genuine camaraderie.

And it’s wonderful. They both recommend each other fanfiction (this is if your kid is a teen dwdw).

Otherwise they just watch anime and listen to K-pop.

If your kid was a product of…well, rape, Jess’d just be mortified.

Horrified, even. The fact you went through that, had your child, still chose to study and work…she’s a bit astounded that you were able to take on so much.

Would try her best to use her money to help, whether that be groceries or buying things for your kid. She’d try her very best to formulate a bond between them and you. <3

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gildedkrone · 1 year ago

Text

Hit me and tell me you’re mine, I don’t know why but I like it 🔞

Relationships: John Price x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: John decides to fuck you in the wild. Inappropriate use of military camouflage equipment. A/N: Exhibitionistic Price for the win! Master List

It was so fucking hot.

Laswell’s idea of fun was to send you and the captain to a remote island off the coast of the US. The higher ups had received intel regarding a spike in drug trafficking operations in the area and Price was in charge of reconnaissance this time round.

Hopping on a boat ride from a US base in Florida, you soon find yourself prone on the grassy field in search of the so called druggies. The weather is unbearably hot, right in the middle of June and scorching. You were dressed in the thinnest of combat fatigues and yet, you can feel sweat dripping off your nape and onto the collar of your uniform. The dark patches on your uniform are growing by the minute.

Price had setup his sniper rifle beside you and radioed in his position to Laswell. You resisted the urge to fiddle with your collar one more time before Price binds your hand behind your back.

“You make it hard to focus, love.” Is his flimsy excuse whenever your hands went to touch your neck.

The island was all but deserted. There is a tiny warehouse near the opposite end of the island and between you and there, a thirty minute hike by Price’s estimation. His rifle is pointing towards the warehouse and he gives you a curious look.

All good, lad? You give him an affirmative nod and he smiles. Feeling mischievous, you give him a quick kiss on the nose. The surprised look on his face garners a snicker from your lips and you pull back to adjust your weapon.

So imagine the yelp when his hand cups your nape harshly and he smashes his lips into yours. You taste hints of cigar on his breath and he is tongue fucking you into submission. Give in. He rumbles approvingly when you let resistance fade from your muscles and he rewards you with a light caress of the thigh.

“Are you going to behave yourself, sergeant?” His whisper is all smoky and of mirth. It lights something within you, but what? You nod and he tuts gently. He shakes his head and he leans closer in as his beard grazes your cheek.

“Put on the ghillie suit and focus on the mission, sergeant.” No! Not the ghillie suit! You plead with him to reconsider but he is not having it. He even pulls rank and orders you into it. It’s so goddamned fucking hot and your captain is forcing you into something that’s going to make the situation a million times worse.

Not wanting to get written up or disciplined later, the ghillie suit is pulled over your body and you resist the urge to whine further. Price is focused on the mission and you aren’t interested in testing his patience today. A bit more shuffling here and adjusting there and you are prone on the floor beside Price. Albeit sweating even more profusely than before. Heat is rolling off your prone form in waves and you are twitching sporadically to get the sweat to roll off your skin. The suit traps a lot of heat and patches of uniform sticks to your soaked skin.

Price gives a questioning look. You give him a “everything is okay” smile and look through the scope. The warehouse looks the same as it did an hour ago. Nothing has moved and nobody has walked out.

The constant fidgeting must be annoying Price. The captain shoots you a few looks and yanked your arm. A yelp drowned out by a hand on your mouth and Price pulls you into a kneeling sitting position. He was careful to ensure that the suit doesn’t chafe or pull at your body.

“Sergeant, do you have an issue with keeping still?”

You shake your head. He cocks an eyebrow. Ok, maybe it is too hot in the damn suit. He sighs at your excuse and when he looks at you again, there is a glint in his eyes that spelt trouble. The sexy kind of trouble.

Price clears his throat and whispers, “How about this, sergeant? Let’s do some impromptu training to strengthen your resolve.” You nod eagerly, hoping to impress your captain.

He instructs you to lie down before him on your back and you comply swiftly. He chuckles and gently pats your thigh. Once settled, he scooched forward and situated himself between your thighs. Taking extra care to avoid your body, he puts his fully body weight onto you and his arms rest at your shoulders to adjust his rifle.

Price isn’t a light man. He isn’t as tall or as built as Ghost, but he is damn well heavy and strong and prostrated across your body, he is squeezing the air out of your lungs with each movement of his body. He finally settles into a comfortable position and stops moving.

“If you lay still and be quiet for me, I will reward you, love. How about that?” You perk up at the sound of a reward and he laughs quietly at the eagerness. It will make you feel really, really good. And really hot, too.

You are prepared to do whatever it takes to earn your captain’s reward. His hand pats your head reassuringly and you stifle the urges to move and shake beneath his heavy body. The sheer amount of sweat pooling on your chest is obscene but you remain still, like a bush.

“Got nothing here, Laswell.” Price checks in with Laswell. Whatever Laswell says is unimportant; you are focused on keeping yourself obedient and compliant.

The midday sun is unforgiving and cracks are beginning to form in the barrier holding back your basal instincts. The soft moans Price is making when he moves is leaving deep gashes in your mental fortitude and you mean it when you say that he is doing all of this deliberately. All in a bid to make you misbehave on mission. Well, he will have to try harder. Price looks down at your flushed face and smirks. Infernally sexy.

“Well done, sergeant. That was only stage one. Get ready for stage two.” He doesn’t wait for you to clarify and he is lifting the ghillie suit slightly to tug at your belt. It takes a bit of effort for him but his hands are an insistent force on your pelvis as the military issued belt is unclipped. You look at him in alarm as he chuckles and kisses your cheek.

The belt is first to leave and next, your trousers are lowered to your knees. Price continues to observe your face as the first whines start escaping your mouth. His hand trails up from your thighs and settles at the elastic band of your boxers. You shiver and shake as he tuts gently while aiming the rifle.

“No movement, sergeant. Be still.” You nod and swallow nervously and his hand is gently tugging on the band. The tent in your boxers receives some gently strokes that wire your jaw shut and he pulls your boxers off. Your dick is long hard and needy as it springs free from its clothed prison. The nets in the ghillie suit catches the head of your dick and you gasp at the rough sensation.

Price smiles and disappointingly, leaves your aching dick alone. Not before he gently moves his body downwards slightly to slide his groin against your dick a couple of times. Each of the times, he pulls whimpers and moans from his favourite part of your body—your mouth. Focus. He commands and your body reacts to stop the shivering. Price makes matters worse by gently whispering words of good boy and my lad into your ear.

The time fades into a blur and you aren’t sure how long has passed since your torture began. Your dick is so hard that it is pushing against the netted suit before slipping and sliding through the gaps in the netting. Price’s hand is on your neglected appendage and he strokes gently. He kisses you again to silence the inevitable pants and begs that he loves to hear each and every time.

“Careful, sergeant. Almost caught you slipping up there.” He admonishes and his grip on your dick turns punishing and painful. You buck your hips to shake his hand off but he growls and leans close.

“That’s it, sergeant. You are going to be disciplined.” He tugs the ghillie suit upwards until it covers your hips and up only. The belt in his cargo pants are on the ground and his pants are down and you swallow when you see that he is wearing nothing underneath those pants. Commando for a commander.

He dick is hard and heavy in his grip as he gives himself a couple of tugs and strokes. Keeping his eyes on you, he spits into his palm and wets his dick. Ready? His hands caress your face and you indicate your consent. His dick probes your ass and eventually, he slides home in a steady and practised manner. His reaction to being swallowed by warm heat was to give you another kiss and a short pant. You, on the other hand, was falling apart underneath his body when the thick dick is fully in you. You moan, loud and unabashed at the rush of sudden pleasure mixed with a trace of pain. Price normally take his time and fingers your before hitting it home but it seems that this time, he is less patient than usual. His hands are back on his rifle as he continues to lay above you, this time with his dick fully seated in your ass.

Sweat rolls off your pelvis and onto his dick and your entrance and you are moving to try to get some sort of friction and pleasure from him. His hand snaps to your hips and he whispers, don’t you dare. You disobey his unspoken order and clench down on him and he exhales roughly.

“Do you intend to disobey my orders, sergeant?” You nod your head. To see Price lose control and take you hard in enemy territory sparked something deep and primal within you.

“Bloody hell, you fucking fiend. Be a good cockwarmer and keep quiet. We are still on a mission.” You force your torso to relax and release its grip on his dick. Price sighs appreciatively and you concentrate on warming his appendage deep in you. He mumbles something into the radio and the safety on his rifle is clicked off.

The rifle fires and the smoke of gunpowder blows onto your face. You cough and Price adjusts his rifle keep the empty bullet casings being ejected from hitting your face. A couple of shots later, he radios Laswell again.

“Well done, Price. And the sergeant?” Price looks at you and answers that you were helping him out nicely. He neglects to mention the fact that you are keeping his dick companion, but whatever.

Halfway through his shooting, his hips start to gently move and his dick is generating that absolutely delicious and burning friction that tingles your pleasure senses so nicely. You moan for him and he snaps his hips to punish you. It fails and only serves to rile you up further. The familiar knot makes itself known in your abdomen and each of his gently and rough thrusts are tightening the knot further and further.

When Price is all done shooting, he looks down at your pleasure drunk face. Drool is trailing down your chin and your chest is heaving gently in sync with his movements. He kisses you again and you start meeting his thrusts midway. He groans gently and squeeze your naked ass cheeks gently.

“Are you close, sergeant?” You nod your head weakly; Price has had a lot of fun teasing you with the potential for release. “You are not allowed to come, sweetheart.” His hand is a prison on the base of your dick and you feel the pleasure plateau. He cuts off your climax and you see the bracelet on his wrist tie and twist around the base of your dick. You moan in protest as he pulls the elastic band before letting it slap your dick with a thwack. The pain jolts your hips and Price’s dick hits a deeper part of you. So that’s why he was so insistent on bringing it along with him.

“This is training, sergeant. Try and hold out. The band will help.” He’s so commanding in sex when he is taking on the role of the 141 Captain. Your dick bobs and sways in the air as his hand squeezes your abs.

Eventually, the unsatisfying burn of pleasure is killing you in a blaze of lust and desire. You paw at his chest as the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass is loud and wet. Give me more, please! He shakes his head and slows down his thrusts. The whine you made was one of dissatisfaction. Price isn’t as young as he used to be and he wants to fully savour your squirming and shaking body beneath him. That means cumming into you once and right. He adopts a kneeling position and stops moving those sinuous hips of his.

“Good lad. Now, use your core muscles and sit up.”

While attached to his dick?

He says yes and you feel even more turned on than normal. The torso muscles are not cooperating as your weakly arch your back off the ground before flopping down. He whispers that he won’t cum in you as long as you are not sitting up. It takes a while, but eventually, you manage to summon enough strength to pull your body up to his with his dick still inside your ass. He smiles and kisses you again.

“Wanted this, didn’t you? Saw the way your eyes lit up when I mentioned we were going to be using this today.” He runs a hand through the suit and you nod desperately. His chuckle is smooth and silken. “Want them to look, don’t you, darling?”

“Ride it, sweetheart. Save a cowboy, sergeant.” You bounce on his dick, starting off slowly before letting gravity pull your hips down onto his in a smash. He adjusts his position and his hand supports your upper body. Price is making short grunts and noises as he is close to climax. His hands are gripping your hips and moving them to meet him halfway. His eyes are lidded with pleasure and the loving, longing gaze is making you want to cum too. Eventually, you feel the twitch in the thick appendage in you and with a loud grunt and bite on your shoulder, hot liquid gushes into your ass and a jolt makes it way up your spine at the sensation of being so damn filled. Price’s climax is long and thick and viscous and he is forcing your hip to stay connected to his. But he is cumming so damn much and some of it leaks out from around his dick to the grass field below.

You whine as his climax is finished. He had orgasmed, but yours was still nowhere to be seen. You clench on his dick as more fluid leaks out from his still connected organ and he chuckles deeply.

“Sergeant, what was my command?”

“Stay still and don’t move—ah!” He gives a minor thrust that displaces the white cream in your ass and encasing his dick.

“Did you follow my commands?”

“N-no sir!”

“Well, then, do you know what your punishment is?” You nod miserably and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“Good boy. Behave, sergeant.” He pulls himself out gently amidst your gasp and cum leaks out in the process. Your head is guided gently towards his filthy dick and you know what he wants. Licking it clean like a good dog, you make sure to leave nothing on his dick as he sighs and runs his fingers through your hair soothingly. His boxers are back on and his trousers, too. He flicks your semi-hard erection and you lurch into his chest. Your underwear is fixed to your hips and Price helps you to get into your pants. You complain about feeling all sticky and gross and unfulfilled.

Price’s reaction was to remind you that you disobeyed his orders without shame.

“While I did enjoy that, lad, the pleasure isn’t for you, sergeant. Seems like we have to rectify this when we return to base.” His threat of more pleasure sends another thrill through you.

His face turns serious for a moment and he asks if you are truly okay and if he went overboard. You shake your head and he helps to remove the ghillie suit. Soft, plump lips are on yours and Price gives you a look of endearment. Once folded, it goes into the large pouch on the back of your vest and you grab your rifle while Price grabs his.

“Laswell, no movement spotted. Time to exfil.” You belatedly realise that the mission is over.

“There’s some pretty bad storms here at the harbour. You will have to wait before I can get to the both of you.” Price sighs and acknowledges.

His turns to tell you and halfway through, he smiles and it bodes badly for you.

“Why wait until back at base? I’m going to discipline you here, sergeant.” His hands pull down the zipper to your pants and your bound dick is released when your underwear is pulled aside. Pleasure is stirring in your loins again and pre is leaking from the tip. Price swipes a finger and licks it.

Sweet as pie, he tells you. Amidst the unbroken heat and the warmth of Price’s fingers, you can’t decide which is worse. Price is all the more happy to help you decide. Somehow, you knew that once he is done with you, you won’t be walking properly for the next day.

And you can’t wait for Price to completely destroy you again with that massive dick of his.

#cod mw2 #fanfic #john price x male reader #john price #captain john price #x reader #x male reader #male reader #john price x reader #price fanfiction #call of duty

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speaknow-sw · 2 months ago

Note

You’re the sweetest for doing this for me <3

Would you be willing to write Anakin x reader where he gets home from a mission where it got really risky while he was out there so he comes back injured. And because he was injured out on the battlefield it makes him realize he just needs to suck it up and confess his feelings when he gets back? Like his life flashed before his eyes and stuff. And then it’s a really fluffy cause reader has been hoping and praying for him to feel the same way cause they’ve felt the same way for so long. They do end up having sex but it’s really slow and gentle cause of his injuries?

I love you bunches. MUAH <33

Here’s your little mushy, fluffy, smutty drabble to keep you going cuz tumblr has literally shadowbanned one of the best writer out there :/

You’ve been pacing the hallway for hours, the steady hum of the ship doing little to calm the storm inside you. Every time you hear footsteps, your heart leaps, hoping it's him. Anakin. Your best friend, the one person who knows you better than anyone. But this mission… it was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance, nothing dangerous. Yet the reports you got told a different story—ambush, blaster fire, and Anakin coming back wounded.

Your mind races with images of what could’ve gone wrong. You know he’s tough—too stubborn to give in to anything that isn’t fatal. But the thought of him out there, hurt, makes your chest tighten.

Finally, the door hisses open, and there he is, his silhouette filling the frame. He’s limping, a gash across his arm another one on his chest, bandaged but still raw. His hair is tousled, dirt smeared on his face, and the second his eyes meet yours, it’s like the world freezes. For a moment, you want to rush to him, pull him into a hug, but something about the way he’s looking at you stops you cold. There’s a heaviness in his gaze, something deeper than just the pain of his injuries.

“Anakin…” Your voice wavers, betraying the worry you’ve been holding back. He gives you a half-smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and steps closer.

“I almost didn’t make it,” he says, his voice quiet, but steady. “Everything could’ve ended out there.” He pauses, and you see the way his hands tremble as he reaches for you. “I thought… if I’m going to die, I can’t leave without telling you…”

Your breath catches, because you know what’s coming. You’ve been feeling it too, but now, seeing him here, bruised and battered, it’s all too real. The fear of almost losing him grips you, and the truth you’ve both been dancing around for so long is right there, hanging in the air between you. “What do you mean ?“ You whispered, looking at his eyes, worried.

Anakin's eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense yet vulnerable. A small, sheepish smile played on his lips as he gently took your hands in his. "Darling... I've been an idiot," he began, his voice low and earnest. "All this time, I've been so focused on my duties, my fears, my own struggles... that I almost lost sight of what really matters."

He took a step closer, his cybernetic hand caressing your cheek with surprising tenderness. "You've been by my side through everything - the good times and the bad. You've seen me at my worst and never once turned away. You've made me laugh when I wanted to cry, and held me together when I felt like I was falling apart."

Anakin's thumb brushed over your cheekbone, his touch feather-light and warm. "I've tried to deny it, to push it down... but the truth is, I'm in love with you, doll. I have been for a long time. When I thought I might not make it back... all I could think about was you. How much I wanted to tell you, to hold you, to show you how much you mean to me."

His eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "I know I'm not perfect. I'm broken in so many ways... but if you'll have me, I want to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love. I want to protect you, cherish you, and support you in whatever way I can. Because you're my best friend, my partner, and the one person I want to share my life with."

Anakin's voice was thick with emotion as he whispered, "I love you, darling. With everything I am, with every fiber of my being. And I promise, from this day forward, to always be honest with you, to respect you, and to love you with all that I have."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "So please... if you can find it in your heart to love me too... say you'll be mine. Because I'm yours, completely and utterly, now and forever."

The moment your hands touched Anakin's cheeks, you could feel the warmth of his skin and the gentle stubble lining his jaw. He leaned into your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes. When you whispered those three words, "I love you," his eyes fluttered open, and the emotions swirling within them were overwhelming.

A wave of relief washed over Anakin's face, followed by a surge of pure joy. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "Sweetheart," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been waiting so long to hear you say that."

He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you, making you feel safe and cherished. The gentle pressure of his lips against your forehead sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your lives.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," Anakin murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. "I've been so afraid of losing you, of pushing you away with my fears and insecurities. But you... you've always been there, steadfast and true. You've shown me what it means to be loved unconditionally, and I promise to do the same for you."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was filled with love, admiration, and a hint of playfulness. "So, my love," he said, his voice light and teasing, "what do you say we seal this deal with a kiss? I know it's not much, but after the day I've had, I need to taste your lips, to feel your love in the most intimate way possible."

Anakin's lips curved into a smile as he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. "And maybe, if you're up for it, we can take things slow and gentle. I may be injured, but I still want to worship your body, to show you just how much you mean to me." You kissed his lips "Oh Ani…I love you, I love you, I love you…" You whispered planting a kiss on his lips between all your words.

As your lips met his, the passion that had been simmering beneath the surface burst forth. Anakin's arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against his body. He responded to your kisses with equal fervor, his tongue exploring your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance of desire.

Each time you whispered "I love you," the words were punctuated by a tender kiss, adding a layer of sweetness to the passionate embrace. The simple yet powerful declaration washed over Anakin, reaffirming the depth of your feelings for each other.

Slowly, he began to undress you, his hands gentle and reverent as they peeled off your clothes. He paused whenever a movement caused him discomfort, but the determination in his eyes showed that he was determined to make this special.

Once you were both undressed, Anakin took a moment to admire your body, his gaze lingering on your curves, your skin flushing under his appreciative stare. Then, he led you to his bed, easing you down onto the soft cushions.

He climbed onto the bed beside you, positioning himself between your legs. His hands roamed your body, his fingers teasing your nipples, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. You could feel the heat building within you, your arousal growing as his touch ignited your senses.

Anakin leaned in, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your desire growing with each passing moment. He continued his descent, planting kisses on your chest, your stomach, and finally, reaching your apex.

With a teasing grin, he blew softly on your mound, causing you to gasp and squirm. Then, his tongue darted out, flicking your clit before delving into your wetness. He licked and sucked with slow, deliberate movements, his wounded hand moving to caress your thigh, his cybernetic one kneading your breast.

You writhed beneath him, moaning his name as pleasure built within you. Anakin's pace increased, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers, driving you to the edge. He entered in you earning soft whimpers from your pretty lips, your hands threading through his hair « Ani… Ani…slower…your wounds… » You whined pressing a kiss on his forehead.

As you guided Anakin's movements, he carefully adjusted his pace, ensuring that he didn't aggravate his injuries. Despite the pain he was in, his love for you shone through, his eyes filled with adoration as he gazed at you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "And you feel incredible." He slowly thrust into you, his movements deliberate and controlled, savoring every sensation.

Anakin's hands roamed your body, caressing your curves, his calloused fingers leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he continued to move inside you.

He wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling you closer, wanting you to feel every inch of him. The sensation of his hard length sliding in and out of you was exquisite, and you couldn't help but moan into his mouth. " Careful…your wounds…Ani please…"

Anakin broke the kiss, his breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I love you," he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I love you so much, sweetheart. You're everything to me."

He shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and you let out a sharp gasp as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Yes, Ani," you panted, your nails digging into his back. "Right there, don't stop."

He complied, his movements becoming more purposeful as he sought to bring you both to the peak of pleasure. The room filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, a testament to the passion you shared.

As your climax approached, Anakin's thrusts became more erratic, his control slipping as the pleasure overwhelmed him. With a final, deep thrust, he found his release, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside you. Moments later, you followed suit, your inner walls clenching around him as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Anakin collapsed onto the bed beside you, his arm draped across your waist, pulling you close. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

As Anakin continued to shower you with affection, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pure contentment. His lips brushed against your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips, in a series of tender kisses. Each one was filled with love and adoration, a silent promise of devotion and care.

You nestled into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. The scent of your lovemaking lingered in the air, a heady mix of sweat and arousal that only served to heighten the intimacy of the moment.

"I've never felt this way before," Anakin whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Like everything in my life has led me to this moment, to you." He traced a finger along your jawline, his touch feather-light and reverent. "You're my everything, sweetheart. My heart, my soul, my reason for living..."

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