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whispereons · 1 year ago

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Oracle!Reader Part 20

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 19, Part 21

1K special

Warning! This is yandere, sagau imposter au so expect lots of gore in the series. This chapter is tame in comparison to the others.

The moon glimmers in the starlit sky as a hand brushes against your newly scarred skin. Eyelashes fluttering, your vision begins to focus on the plain ceiling above you.

A coarse groan leaves your cracked lips as you flinch from the sudden pressure on your stomach. The hand quickly retreats as a pale green blob comes into view.

"...are…eeling?" The voice is barely picked up as your ears ring. Squinting your eyes, you swallow the dried saliva tasting faintly of blood.

"W-Who?" The word is coughed out as your throat struggles to form the words. Before you can ask for water, a cup is brought to your lips. The cold water brings sweet relief to your parched body.

Your senses begin to sharpen and clarity is brought back to your vision. Baizhu stands next to your bed helping you drink from the cup, though Changsheng isn't wrapped around his neck like she normally would be.

The water runs out and he draws the cup away. "How are you feeling? Your body is technically healed of its major injuries but it's still trying to adjust. The pain will continue to persist for a long while."

"I feel better than before." The reply is automatic as your hand twitches in an effort to move your muscles. The recollection of what had even brought you to Baizhu's care is a slow trickle as you process his words.

Shenhe, Yelan, the treasure hoarders, the fall and Qiqi are slotted into your memory like perfect puzzle pieces. The small pitter-patter of footsteps coming closer to you and the sound of metal being set down goes unheard by you as you focus on sitting up.

Soreness and exhaustion are impossibly heavy weights as you struggle to lift your body a few inches away from the mattress. Gentle hands support your body, along with much smaller ones on your other side.

"Thank you…" Your words are choked out between your bitten lips as a dull ache plagues your body. Clenching the blanket in your fists, you sigh in relief as a cold compress is applied to your bare back.

Wait, your bare back?

The strangeness is not lost on you as you look down at yourself. A thin hospital-like gown is all that you seem to be wearing with the blanket pooled around your waist. It takes a second for you to properly process what this means for you before you’re frantically reaching up to your face.

“No need to fret, your mask was left untouched during the treatment.”

It seems to be the truth, as your fingertips are met with cool porcelain and flaking blood. Not to mention the casual way Baizhu is speaking to you and the lack of Millelith guards swarming you.

Licking your chapped lips, you eventually arrive at the question: where do you go now? Ningguang would surely kill you if she finds out you’re still alive. Zhongli is still expecting an answer, god knows what Yelan would do and Shenhe is a wild card-

The thoughts racing in your mind are abruptly cut off as a metal tray is plopped onto your lap. A warm bowl of soup and yogurt with a soft pastel color greeted you. The refilled cup of water placed on your bedside is ignored as your mouth waters at the sight of the meal.

“Clear chicken carrot soup and fruit-flavored yogurt.” A child-like, monotonous voice comments with a deeper melodic voice following up. “I would have had food suited to your taste, but you hadn’t awoken until now. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nope.” You replied by popping the ‘p’ before pulling the tray closer and picking up the utensils. Allergies didn’t concern your ravenous mind, as your dormant stomach awakened painfully at the smell of food. Who knows, maybe your creator buff will also prevent any allergic reactions.

An upside to being the creator was something you desperately needed after the saga of pure bullshit you’ve been through.

Baizhu gently directs Qiqi out of the room after instructing her a message you couldn’t bother to hear as you gulp down the food. When he returns, he sits next to you as the moonlight shines down from the window.

“Let me explain your previous and current state while you eat. Qiqi brought you in with multiple minor injuries, a few stab wounds, head trauma, elemental damage, with fractured and broken bones. That’s not even mentioning the severe blood loss and infections beginning to manifest on your poorly healed past injuries.” Each description is like a stab to the heart, with the visualization of your passed out body arriving to Baizhu on death's doorstep crystal clear.

“Thankfully your body reacted well with my elemental healing so the life-threatening wounds were healed, without infections, and your critical condition was toned down. That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.”

The soup and yogurt is picked clean, leading you to gulp down the water next. Looking at him, you open your mouth to ask for more food when he cuts you off firmly. “Don’t bother asking for food, the arrows didn’t hit your lungs or heart, but your abdominal organs weren’t spared. You’ll be stuck with light meals until I’m positive it’s safe.”

Resisting a scoff, you ask him. “So what’s my current condition? Will I have to stay here overnight? Hold on, can I even afford that? How much did this treatment even cost?!”

“Please calm down, Y/N.”

“How did you-”

“Your name was etched onto the bag that Qiqi brought along. As for payment, there’s no need to worry. You had a rather generous benefactor that has given us more then enough mora to cover your total cost in every possible scenario.”

That was suspicious beyond belief, but you didn’t have a reason not to believe Baizhu either. Baizhu would have healed you even without payment, but not being in debt was ideal.

This benefactor either wants something from you, wants to kill you themselves, or knows you personally.

A few people come to mind that could fit your suspicions but with so little knowledge you couldn’t confirm anything. Instead, you asked. “Isn’t doctor-patient confidentiality a thing? Did they leave any message for me?”

If Baizhu was surprised, then he hid it well. “She knew your name and appearance, though I never confirmed that you were here. She simply left the money and a verbal message asking you to have dinner with her tomorrow at 1800 in Xinyue Kiosk. But please be aware that I’m not forcing this, whether you would like me to refund the money so you can avoid interacting with her or not is completely up to you.”

Shaking your head, you declined it. “I’ll go. Since everything is paid for by her, does that also include any medicine I have to take for whatever current injuries I still have?”

“That’s right. I’m mostly prescribing supplements for the blood loss and fluid imbalance. Some are for the bones that broke, even repaired they might cause problems, so calcium intake is also important. A simple drug for your immune system, as your body's defenses are relatively low from the wounds. As well as per needed fever and pain medications.”

… You didn’t want to imagine the cost of those medications, let alone the treatment. A dinner in the most expensive restaurant in Liyue within the city with an unknown woman isn't that bad.��

You've met people in worst locations and survived this long.

Pushing back the lingering worry, you focused on Baizhu’s explanation over what condition your body is in, what time to take the medicine and any other problems that could arise. It was boring, but you weren’t looking to get sick from your own stupidity.

The conversation had gone as you expected for a while until he brought up a strange topic. Flipping through a few papers, Baizhu steered the topic onto your- “Scars. Many of what you suffered from will leave new scars on your body. It’s the old scars that were peculiar.”

Knowing your luck, your scars must also be known to them. But you weren’t going to bring it up if he didn’t.

“They are imbued and cultivated with a power that is strikingly familiar, yet foreign. It actually perfectly correlates with my researched point of interest. I wanted to ask your permission on getting a sample of it before your discharge.”

That was a risky request. Your face stayed neutral as you thought to yourself. The consequences could be minor, but what if it became another situation of an accidental connection to the Creator again?

Looking back at the smiling snaked eye man, you opened your mouth to respond when he suddenly gave the fakest gasp.

“I almost forgot to mention that your old scar formations are the exact locations of the Creator’s real scars! This along with everything else I’ve seen is almost enough for me to report this to the Mille-”

“For fuck's sake just take it.” You could be excused for not playing mind games this time, being nearly dead should be enough reason for a day off.

“I want some form of compensation, though!” Being stupidly tired is a different matter then being just plain stupid.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll most likely take the sample sometime tomorrow before your discharge. So please, tell me what you have in mind by noon tomorrow so I can fetch it in time.”

In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Baizhu would ask this of you. Your body has clearly undergone some changes as you lived in Teyvat and Baizhu is dead set on finding a way to be immortal.

There was a time you had wondered if you might be immortal due to being the creator, so maybe Baizhu can figure it out with your sample.

“The last thing I want to address before you rest is-” Baizhu is cut off by a knock on the door. He glances at you, asking permission to open the door with his eyes before you nod firmly. Qiqi walked in earlier without knocking, so maybe it’s a visitor? But considering how late it is, maybe you were wrong…

“Come in Qiqi and bring the visitor in too.”

The door opens slowly as you watch Qiqi walk in stiffly with a yawning girl following her in at a similar height. Long light brown hair is loose as the girl rubs her eyes tiredly.

“Hello Dr. Baizhu, I came back to check one last time if the oracle- Oh!” Caramel colored eyes widen at the sight of you sitting on the bed, and the girl hurriedly gives a polite bow. A yellow plush bunny is smooshed in her arms in the process.

“Hello, pardon my rudeness. My name is Yaoyao and I was sent by my master to check on you! It’s my honor to make your acquaintance, Y/N, or would you rather me call you by the oracle title?”

The ‘little adult’ looks different without the decorative bells she usually wears in her tied up hair, but the bunny was a dead give away. You smile at the nervous girl while wondering just who told her about you being an oracle.

Baizhu was giving you a look that basically screamed suspicion.

“You can just call me Y/N. By master, you mean Madame Ping, right?” Yaoyao beams at that as she steps closer.

“That’s correct, we learned about you from the other Adepti and Xiangling.” You should have known. “When we heard that you were here, I was sent on my Master's orders and Ganyu’s concern. Visitors weren’t allowed earlier, but I wanted to check one last time.”

Ganyu too? That basically guarantees Ningguang, Keqing, Zhongli and even more knowing that you’re here. But more importantly was the fact that Baizhu investigated anything connected to the Adepti for his immortality quest.

You could only hope that Baizhu would be happy with a basic explanation and the sample of your scar tissue as promised.

“Visitors was the last topic I wanted to address.” Baizhu smoothly joins as he gets up from his seat and heads toward a desk on the far side of the room. A small pile of letters and a pile of gifts sit on the table next to your bag. How didn’t you notice it before?

“After a patient here noticed you before she was discharged, she and her guardian left you a letter with a present. I believe she may have been the one to spread it, but I ask you to kindly not hold anger against her. She’s rather young.”

So the little leaker was a child? It could be one of the kids you saved, but none of them could really afford to go to Baizhu. Not that he would have denied them but most children in that situation don’t go unless on the verge of death or pushed by an adult.

“It’s okay, I’ll look through the stuff in the morning.” As if on cue, Yaoyao fails to hide a yawn as she walks to stand next to your bed.

“Auntie Cloud Retainer and the rest of the Adepti told Master what happened on Mt. Aocang. Master really wants to meet you, so if you have any time to spare, please pay her a visit here at the Yujing Terrace near the Yiyan temple.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you make a mental note of that before asking Yaoyao a question in return.

“Just how many people in general know that I’m here? I know quite a few people and Qiqi being here must have been quite a spectacle… But surely it must not have been too much considering that it was the middle of the night.”

The nervous expression on Yaoyao face dashes away any hopes you had.

“Sorry Y/N but a lot of the city was speaking about you. Even nature and the animals kept mentioning you! Though they were a little more vague. If it helps, most people know you as a masked person rather than your name.”

Sighing, you don’t even bother hiding the distaste on your face. Changing masks wouldn’t do much and you sure as hell can’t remove it either, leaving you with the sole option of leaving.

Leaving before anyone else can attack you in this fast-pace city filled with greed and ambition. If you stayed here any longer, you’ll surely be pulled into whatever new situation happens and only get more attention.

The dinner you had first worried about is almost miniscule compared to the threat of Yelan and Shenhe knowing your location. More so, Yelan as she has an obligation to get rid of you due to her job rather than Shenhe’s emotional motive.

Your mind replays the last bit of your fight where you had touched the waypoint and- Oh fuck. Groaning, you dumped your face into your hands as Yaoyao watched you worriedly. Her worried calls rolled off you like waves as you remember how the teleport waypoint glowed in front of everyone.

That’s a complete group of people, treasure hoarders nonetheless, that saw you activate it. Yelan could use that information and the witnesses in whatever stupidly clever way she wants!

Yaoyao looks back at Baizhu confused as he shakes his head silently. Qiqi picks up a glass of coconut milk and begins to walk towards you with it before Baizhu blocks her way.

Fingers digging into your scalp, you resist the urge to pull your hair as you bite your still slightly bruised lips. The realization of what kind of ammo you gave Yelan was killing you.

Baizhu takes the glass from Qiqi and puts it back down before handing her a glass of water. Qiqi stares blankly at Baizhu before switching the glasses again. As the two continuously switch cups, Yaoyao rummages in her bag.

A sting of pain begins to grow as you get dangerously closer to the recently healed head wound. The smell of something sweet yet earthy snaps you out of your stress-fueled self depreciation as small hands pry your rough ones away.

“Please be careful Y/N, Dr. Baizhu is a great doctor but you shouldn’t hurt yourself like this. Have a candied date, it's golden honey flavored and works great to get rid of the bitter medicinal taste that he prescribes.”

It didn’t smell too bad, so you hesitantly took it from her hands and glanced back at Baizhu in case he tries to confiscate it. With his back safely turned, you pop the candied date into your mouth.

It’s a nice taste and it does work well as a distraction from your worries. “Thank you Yaoyao.” Your hand reaches out instinctively and pats her head. “The Creator views you fondly and one day your fate will intersect with the creator’s just like it did with the Adepti.”

The lie flows smoothly from your mouth as she smiles brightly up at you. Her eyes move down to the blanket as she responds. “I still don’t quite know what that means, but I’m sure I’ll be able to properly appreciate it once I’m older.”

Qiqi joins you both and hands you a glass of water that you take from her gratefully. Your hand leaves Yaoyao’s head to rest on the bed, making Qiqi look away with a pout. Before you can question the unexpected reaction, Baizhu redirects the conversation.

“I understand that you hold some valid concerns over your safety, Y/N. This situation isn’t one we deal with frequently, but we do have measures in place.”

The look you send him speaks a thousand words as he sighs and adds. “Free of charge, of course, as it counts as patient confidentiality.”

“Bubu’s Pharmacy has tight security measures and Millelith frequent the area due to it being near the Yiyan Temple and the Welkin Temple.” You were 100% sure that the second temple did not exist before you came here. “Me and Qiqi both reside here and as experienced vision holders, you’ll be in safe hands.”

Nodding in understanding, you can’t deny that it felt safer knowing you weren’t going to be left alone. Your body was still exhausted and in the midst of healing so you didn’t have much energy to defend yourself with if Ningguang were to send another person after you.

“Qiqi doesn’t sleep much, so she’ll keep an eye out for anything amiss.” And you were right back to feeling anxious. Baizhu was relaxed as he tidied up the room, while Yaoyao spoke softly to Qiqi.

Glancing at the zombie child, you repeated the mantra to yourself that anyone could be a DPS in Genshin. You just needed to check her equipment before bed.

Yaoyao turns back to you with a sleepy smile. “I’ll be taking my leave now. I wish you a swift recovery, and I look forward to seeing you again with my Master.” With a casual wave, you let that be your only farewell as you drink the glass of water Qiqi handed you earlier.

Baizhu pats his clothing down as he calls out to Yaoyao right as she opens the door.

“Oh Yaoyao, since you’ll be relaying the message to Madam Ping and Ganyu, please have Ganyu tell Ningguang about Y/N’s acceptance to dinner for me as well.”

The water you were drinking goes down the wrong way at those words.

Coughing, you yank the glass away as you look back up to the surprised Baizhu. “Did you say Ningguang? Was she the one who paid for everything and asked for the dinner?”

Baizhu smiles pleasantly with little regard for your shaky tone as he nods. There goes every flicker of hope you had that Ningguang wasn’t your benefactor.

Every drop of blood your body synthesized to restore you back to normal is drained as you pale at the confirmation. Just how the hell did you manage to meet Zhongli, Yelan, and Ningguang!?

They are all people you wanted to avoid, and you definitely shouldn’t have met, considering the fact that people pay to even get an hour with Ningguang, let along a whole ass dinner invite!

Was there some stupid rule that goes along with being the creator making you meet nearly every acolyte that exists?

So busy cursing yourself and the entirety of Teyvat out, you don’t notice how Baizhu corrals Yaoyao out of the room before heading to you, as Qiqi watches from the sidelines.

“My, my you’ve gone pale at the news Y/N.” Baizhu’s glasses glint a little from the flickering lantern illuminating the room. He smiles down at you with half-lidded eyes that stare at you strangely.

“I didn’t realize that I forgot to tell you who it was. If you decide to, we can always cancel it and send a priority letter before discussing a payment plan.”

Squinting your eyes, you shake your head ‘no’ as you try to read the simultaneously shady yet reckless doctor. It didn’t seem like he had any malicious intentions, as he very much did mean to hide it. But you can’t be sure that he had any good intentions either.

“That’s a shame, I was looking forward to discussing alternate ways of paying that don’t require mora.” …Yeah, no matter what way you put it or how clean Baizhu keeps his reputation. One can not simply not be seen as shady while going around saying stuff like that.

So not only is Baizhu showing signs of that strange attachment in a matter of hours, but Ningguang decided to suddenly switch her tactics. From ‘investigate and kill if deemed a threat’ to ‘generous wealthy person that totally isn’t covering up a crime’.

Could you possibly get Yanfei to sue Ningguang if you aren’t poisoned at the dinner?

Maybe, but that’s all riding on the chance that you aren’t killed in some coincidental accident before then. Waving away the pessimistic and slightly comical thoughts, you look up at Baizhu as he dims the lantern.

“The pharmacy opens at 0900 in the morning. Are you willing to take visitors from that point on till your discharge at 1300?” Briefly looking at the letters and gifts, you nod silently.

Baizhu’s smile doesn’t waver as he responds casually. “Many people will be happy to hear that Y/N, you seem quite popular.”

He opens the door before kneeling to Qiqi’s height. “The last order I have for you tonight is to keep watch over Y/N and protect them if need be. Understand?”

Qiqi tilts her head at that and blandly states. “Order received. Order cannot be processed. Original intended function still active and in place.”

Baizhu frowns at that as you look at Qiqi curiously. His expression quickly smooths back to a calm smile as he stands up. “As long as the ending is the same, then I don’t mind.”

He glances at you one last time as the door creaks open to show the dark hallway. Slitted eyes meet yours, full of curiosity and intrigue. They almost glow as he steps into the hallway with Qiqi in tow before the door closes softly.

Sighing in relief, you flop back onto the bed and roll in the covers for a position that won’t put pressure on your aching muscles. Baizhu’s increasingly strange behavior slithers back into your mind as you close your eyes.

Just why didn’t he ask you about being an oracle yet? Is he planning on getting the Millelith? No, he would have done so much earlier. Maybe he’s trying to gather some blackmail on you?

The possibilities torment your exhausted mind as you finally settle on just explaining yourself tomorrow when you get the scar sample from you. When you open your eyes, the flame has already burned away, leaving your only light as the moon.

Staring at it, you think back to the waypoints. Are they finally fixed? Can you use them again? You couldn’t test it out now, but you could do so when you leave after the dinner with Ningguang.

Which region should you travel to next? There was no may you could stay or go back to Inazuma, so it’s either Mondstadt or Sumeru as they are the closest.

Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what traveling through the terrain would be like to arrive in the city. Frowning, you continue by imagining what it would be like traveling in that region for the weekly commissions.

It’s a simple decision really as Sumeru had a wide range of animals and poisonous plants to fight past. While Mondstadt had that sweet peaceful greenery from being the starter city with the lowest amount of treasure hoarders thanks to a certain Cryo user.

Deciding that you’ve picked your brain enough on the topic, you shut your eyes for some actual rest.

A moment passes, and then another, as the wind rustles the leaves on the tree outside the window. The faint sound of a sweet croon reaches your ears as you stubbornly keep your eyes closed.

As your mind is slowly consumed by the heavy exhaustion and the dimness of the room, two thoughts come to mind.

One, you forgot to check Qiqi’s equipment. Two, just what made you be locked out from the teleport waypoints if it counts as a game mechanic from Genshin Impact itself?

—---------------

“The moon is quite beautiful at this time of night.” A kind and knowing voice says as wrinkled hands pick out the bits of leaves from long white hair. The moonlight illuminates the silvery strands as it gradually is picked clean to its former glory.

“Child, just what has happened that you come to me out of all the Adepti for assistance?” A red rope is cut into perfect portions and tied to form the perfect braid. A Cryo vision sits innocently as the centerpiece, while a monochrome ornament adorns the top.

“I cannot advise you on the matter that troubles you if you do not speak, Shenhe.” Iridescent eyes finally move up from the ground to meet the elderly woman’s warm ones. Shenhe struggles to speak as her head dips forward.

“I… I hurt someone badly. But they hurt me too.” Shenhe holds her hands together in a prayer like motion as her eyes flutter close. “But at the end, they showed me something I couldn’t believe. No. That I refused to believe and even helped me.”

With a hunched back and patience learned over thousands of years, the old woman stays quiet. Giving the oh-so apathetic disciple time to put her thoughts into words.

“I don’t know what to do, and master isn’t the most adept when it comes to humans. But you, Streetward Rambler are, in more than one way. You constitute as a human more than me.”

Shenhe closes her eyes as she thinks back to her encounter with you. The truth you didn’t hesitate to spit in her face, the raw anger you expressed at her delusions and denial.

“I just want to understand these emotions. Are they a witch’s, an Adepti’s or a human’s emotions? Not even these ropes are stopping them!” Shenhe tugs at the newly bound rope in frustration but stops at the touch of light fingertips.

Madam Ping smiles warmly down at Shenhe. “None of those answers are correct child. They are simply your emotions. And I believe deep down, you already know what you feel. You just don’t know what to do with them.”

Shenhe looks at the ground with a mixture of guilt and self-loathing swarming inside her. It was true, wasn’t it? That day you spoke her feelings in the bluntest way possible, but here she was, still trying to deny it.

“Then what do I do? Is it really okay to love someone that hurt you? I don’t want a repeat of my childhood… I just want to treasure and use this new chance at connecting with my entire self that the Creator has graced me with.”

The hand that pats her head is familiar and warm. Childhood memories of her shedding those human emotions she once thought weak come to mind before Madam Ping’s voice brings her back.

“Trusting in the Creator and following the path they opened for you, no matter how scary or concerning, is always the right path. Follow me Shenhe.”

Madam Ping is quick to walk away toward the two temples, as Shenhe follows her swiftly. The Yiyan Temple for the Geo Archon is laughably small in comparison to the huge Welkin Temple behind it.

They climb the stairs past the Yiyan Temple and enter the luxurious archway leading into the Welkin Temple. Decorations laced with jewels, paintings of the highest caliber, and statues of the rarest minerals are a common sight in it.

As Liyue Harbors sole temple, the city and its citizens spared no expanse in making sure it was top-notch. That included the deceased Geo Archon who left it in the care of the Liyue Qixing before his passing.

The pair walked through the halls as many people prayed and worshiped within the dead of the night without care for the passing onlookers.

Everyone gathered here at this time of night is here to do the same thing after all.

A couple of people amble past the determined Adeptus and disciple into the barren clinic as physicians begin to care for them. The blood, bone, and missing parts of skin are applauded before quickly being catered to.

Madam Ping enters the hallway where many citizens wait outside the rooms for their turn. Yet instead of stopping like Shenhe expected, the old woman brings her to a hidden staircase around the corner.

The two climb up and up, till they reach the rooftop where an alter sits. Shenhe is well aware what she must do for the answers she desires. Kneeling before it, Shenhe gratefully takes the ceremonial spear handed to her by Madame Ping.

“You have matured enough to earn the privilege of giving a piece of yourself to the Holy One. I can only excitedly wait for the day my own disciples can have this honor.” With a calm yet cheery chuckle, Madame Ping moves away from the grave faced Shenhe.

“Oh Holy Creator, God of all that has lived, lives, and lives on. Listen to this acolytes prayer and grant me but a crumb of your wisdom. Though I am foolish and mortal, your mercy shines down on in the form of that person.”

The spear is raised into the air as Shenhe stays kneeling and points the spear down.

“Please, Divine One, show this wretched girl just how I’m supposed to make it up to Y/N.”

The spear drives down and the crimson droplets stain the altar like a dazzling flourish of rose petals.

Well this took a long while. This time it wasn't school but just personal stuff. Between house hunting, family feud, car problems, and just trying to keep up with school. I haven't got much of a break. But things have finally calmed down somewhat so I used it to get this done. What also helped was making the outline for the 1k special. I think I should have it done for the next update instead of the regular chapter. But I did notice that a good chunk wanted regular chapters instead so I got a compromise. The special features Mondstadt (as most sagau start in Mond so I thought it would be fun) and it'll be a teaser to what Mondstadt has in store for you all. I'm not sure how many of you have noticed but each region has a certain theme when it comes to worship. Inazuma with sacrificing, Liyue with self mutilation, and Mondstadt will be hinted at in the special. My editor, @serpent-benediction, did this super late last night so props for once. But if there are claims to being anything more than an editor then don't listen. I keep basically everybody in the dark. Kinda feel like death so if you have any questions or comments I will answer them as soon as I can read again. Taglist: is open for anyone so just comment if you want to join <3

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe

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therandomartmaker · 1 year ago

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[Image ID: An artwork featuring Danny Phantom, full green excluding his hair and white accents, transparent, sitting on a pile of rubble head tilted slightly upwards with his eyes closed. His hair is wispy, he’s got pointed ears and he’s much more identifiable as a ghost. The rubble includes the F of the Fenton Works sign, a satellite dish of some kind, pipes and concrete. The rubble, and Danny, is surrounded by yellow-black striped caution tape. Above Danny’s head is a conversation, in white, “It’s been ten years,” has been written, and in green, “It’s only been 10 years,” is written. /End ID]

Day 31: “It had been a decade since anyone last lived at Fenton Works. Or so people thought.”

tbh this took like. Less than half an hour to make haha. I may have forgotten to do this yesterday lmaooo. To make up for it, here’s a continuation of this prompt by @cryinginthevoid that i filled, wherein Danny has been stuck haunting the rubble of a ruined Fenton Works after his permanent death, only to later be approached by a very much alive Damian, who is the first person to See Danny in over 10 years. So yep, bonus challenge post 2 under the read more :D

Damian had visited. He’d promised and he’d followed through on it, Danny sitting still and watching as Damian approached, day after day, even after Danny had no more words to say, no more information to give. To quote, he was “a tolerable friend despite your intolerance for proper respect.” Danny had no idea if that was a good or bad thing, if he were to be honest.

But still! It’d been 10 years since he’d to spoken to someone, something other than the air. Damian said his brothers wouldn’t follow him, despite saying he’d bring them to meet Danny during one their tentative hangouts, and Danny supposed that was a good thing. He didn’t want Damian to sound crazy or look crazy for talking to thin air, especially not by his family.

Though, what was interesting was the weird amount of black-haired blue-eyed outsiders hanging around town. The FentonWorks rubble had a pretty good view of most of town, despite it’s slow erosion into dust, so Danny was able to see the several strangers in town whenever he went looking.

Damian said his family was looking into ectoplasm due to it’s relation with the dead, and trying to find if anyone around town knew how to access their information databases. They needed to know if there was a way to relieve “Jason’s” burden of the “Lazarus Rage,” and prepare in the case someone else in the family acquires it. And that ‘Lazarus Pits’ are classified information, but who did Danny have to share it to, no one could talk to him except Damian, anyway.

And truthfully, those Lazarus Pits Damian mentioned sounded like pools of ectoplasm that Maddie and Jack would’ve killed for. Danny could only suggest looking into ‘ecto-acne’ treatments, as from one of the stories of Vlad Masters Danny’d heard, it sounded like the short-term effects of ectoplasm exposure.

—

Damian didn’t know why he was sharing so much confidential with Daniel, but he didn’t seem to mind, and didn’t seem to talk to anyone else. He figured it’d be fine. Daniel needed to know as much context as possible in order to help Damian.

Daniel was strange, he spoke in large amounts, but quieted as though he doesn’t expect someone would respond to him. He rarely moved, and there was something unnatural about him. Perhaps the lack of a rise and fall of his chest, or the way his eyes shined.

Damian couldn’t help but make comparisons to the dead he’d seen. Lightless glossy eyes, pale skin, sallow flesh. Daniel was built like a dying or dead person.

Damian… worried. He’d grown close to the other boy, Daniel’s snark to Damian’s sharp tongue and his acceptance of Damian’s veganism, multiple other factors about Damian never drove Daniel away from him. It was nice, being accepted by someone outside of his family. Daniel’s health was concerning, malnutritioned and Daniel’s reaction time was slow. Multiple things were off-kilter about him, and Damian wanted to know why. So he could help.

Because Danny was his friend.

—

Dick observed Damian. He’d taken to pacing the length of the hotel room, and he seemed worried about his new friend (!!! Dami has a friend!!!! And he’s worried about him!!!), muttering about bringing food to the next time he visited. Dick kinda felt bad about what he was about to tell Dami.

“Richard, why are you looking at me?” Dami asked, stopping his pacing to look up at Dick, a soft half-hearted glare on his face.

“Uh well, Tim…” (fuck! He wasn’t supposed to mention Tim!)

“What did Drake do?”

“Tim told me to tell you that we’d gotten enough information and that we were leaving in two days, just in case something new crops up!” Dick rushed, knowing that Dami would loathe the information, but despise Dick more for not telling him.

Dami needed to say goodbye to his new friend, after all, but from what Dick could tell, they couldn’t even have long-distance communication, because “Daniel Who Liked Being Called Danny” didn’t even have a phone!

Dami’s click of his tongue was expected, and his expression had worsened too. Dick had messed up, but he didn’t think there was anyway to break it gently that Damian would have to leave his newfound friend.

The boy stormed off, leaving the room with a door slam. Dick felt bad, man. Well… Dick did have a spare phone he was free to gibe to someone… Perhaps Danny would like it?

#randomartmaker writing #randomartmaker art #digital art #dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #short story #small story #dick grayson #richard grayson #damian wayne #damian al ghul #ectober 2023 #ectoberweek2023

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kirkwhore · 5 months ago

Text

Type O Negative: VIP Treatment

You've been following Type O Negative on tour, and tonight you get luckier than you ever dreamed.

CW: unprotected piv (wrap it before u tap it, friends!), fem!reader, exhibitionism, degradation, overstimulation, dubcon (everyone is drunk), fingering, use of y/n

word count: 1.8k

18+ ONLY (MINORS SCRAM)

You went to the concert knowing in your gut that something about tonight would be different. You’d been following Type O Negative on their tour for the past four months, and you could swear that Peter Steele was singing right to you at every show. You had locked eyes with him several times during “Love You to Death”, and he had actually winked at you during “Be My Druidess.” At least, you thought so.

You were beginning to feel delusional… until he beckoned you toward the stage during their last number. It was like walking through a dream – you felt like you were floating through the crowd, never taking your eyes off of him. Peter met you in the crowd and gently lifted your face with a finger under your chin. He recited the poem in “Haunted” to you alone. You could feel other women glaring daggers at your back, but you didn’t care. Nothing existed outside of him. You felt yourself leaning into him, completely dazed.

He kissed you in front of everyone. There was a hunger behind the kiss that promised more.

Before returning to the stage, he leaned down and spoke softly into your ear.

“Meet me backstage.” Just those three words, but they were enough to send you running through the sea of witnesses to the best night of your life.

You were playing with a strand of your hair nervously when you heard the screams. The show was over. Peter was headed your way at last.

He grabbed your hand without a word and led you back to the green room with the rest of the band.

They all relaxed back on the plush couches while you stood in the doorway, frozen in awe.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he purred.

“Y/n,” you replied, voice trembling. This had to be a fucking dream; there was no way this was actually happening. Right?

“Y/n. What a beautiful name.” The way it rolled off his tongue like velvet made your thighs clench involuntarily. He gestured for you to come closer.

“Come. Sit.” He was pointing at his lap. Your face felt hot and you were embarrassed by the smirks of the other guys, but you complied anyway. Your short skirt didn’t cover your ass when you sat down and you could feel his stiff cock pulsing against the thin fabric of your panties. The wetness pooling between your thighs threatened to stain his pants. With every deep, rumbling laugh, you felt your pussy clenching around nothing, leaving you with a desparate need to be filled up. It was agony to have to sit still for so long, making polite conversation. Peter knew exactly what he was doing to you, and he made every excuse to fidget and press himself into your ass even harder. The more wine you drank, the more confident you felt. You wanted to tease him back, rocking your hips ever so slightly against his length. You felt strong fingers dig into your hips; a hiss of pleasure escaped his lips.

Peter lifted you to your feet.

“Take them off,” he commanded. “Your panties, give them to Kenny.” You could feel the blush creeping up your neck as both humiliation and pleasure fought for dominance in your body.

“I –”

“Is there a problem?” he said, cocking his head to one side.

“N-no,” you stuttered, your heart pounding. You slowly rolled the waistband of your panties down, exposing yourself to Peter as you bent to free them from your legs. He swiped one deft finger between your folds before you could straighten up. A moan bubbled from your throat before you could stop it. The men laughed as you tentatively handed over your underwear.

When you turned back around, you were shocked to find him naked already, beckoning you back over.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me when your back is to them, and do what you’re told. Think you can do that?” It was a simple question but your reply was trapped in your throat.

“You can always back out, you know,” Peter said more softly. “Don’t let me make you feel trapped.” As much stage fright as you were feeling, you realized that you actually wanted them to watch you be used like a useless fucktoy.

“No, I can do this,” you replied, voice trembling again.

“Good girl.” His smile was all the encouragement you needed. “Now, get on your knees. Wanna see how pretty you look gagging on my cock.” He started slow, easing his way between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the head, lapping up the salty pre-cum leaking from his tip. Peter growled and pushed himself deeper, rougher this time. You really did gag then, and tears stung your eyes. That seemed to turn him on more, and he tangled your hair in his fingers, guiding you back and forth as he fucked your face. You could hear skin slapping in the background. The rest of the bandmates were jacking off. Their moans made your pussy clench even harder.

Once he was done making your mascara run in rivers down your cheeks, Peter dragged you to your feet by your hair and spun you to look at the others. He pushed your skirt up and ripped your shirt open, exposing you to them.

“Isn’t she so pretty?” Peter tugged at your nipples hard, pinching them between his fingers, sending a ripple of pleasure and pain through your body. “And so wet for us, too. Such a fucking slut.” He pulled you down onto his lap once more, spreading your legs wide to give the guys a front row seat to your dripping cunt as he fingered you. The sounds that ripped out of you were animalistic and filthy. You would’ve been humiliated if you weren’t so fucking turned on.

Just when you were on the precipice of falling apart, Peter’s relentless assault on your clit stopped abruptly. You whined, wanting to cry at the sudden lack of stimulation. He laughed, watching you thrust your hips against the air pathetically. He forced you to gag on his thick fingers covered in your slick while you watched one of the others masturbate into your panties. Someone had already finished in them. You could see the pearly cum sliding down the gusset.

You were once again lifted to your feet and whirled around to face Peter before he pushed you backwards onto the couch. He climbed on top of you, caging your face in with his bulging forearms.

“I’m gonna make you cum over and over until you can no longer speak, y/n. But only if you keep those beautiful eyes on me, remember?” His pupils were dilated with lust. He looked like a supernatural creature in that moment, more vampire than man. You could only nod. Your heart was in your throat as he leaned down to press passionate kisses into your neck. Your legs were hiked up over his shoulders, and he slowly, slowly pressed his cock into your heat. You had seen that issue of Playgirl, so you knew he was big… but a picture didn’t do it justice. Feeling him stretch you out was a euphoria like no other. It was certainly worth the pain that came with it. Your moans became screams as he hit that spot deep inside that made you see stars. You wanted so badly to close your eyes, but he held your face in one hand and you knew there would be consequences to looking away. He was panting openmouthed over you, and his friends were moaning your name. The sound of Peter’s balls slapping into you and the unholy noise your cunt was making filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m gonna -” you tried to warn him, but your senses were leaving you. “fuckfuckFUCK I’m gonna cum,” you spat just before the tightly wound coil deep inside snapped, releasing a flood. That was a first – you’d never squirted before. You squeezed tightly around him, and he grunted out your name before you felt him paint your insides with his cum. You were both a sticky mess but he didn’t stop.

“Want me to make you feel good again, baby?” Peter whispered sweetly like he wasn’t using you for his friends’ amusement. You tried to nod but he held your head in place. “No. Use your words.”

“Yes, yes please,” you whined, bearing down on him in desperation. He turned to his friends and laughed.

“Y/n wants to keep going. You wanna see her tits bounce?” The subsequent wolf whistles gave him his answer. You were a puppet in his arms – pliant, obedient. You let him flip you onto your hands and knees.

“Everyone got a good view?” Peter asked. The enthusiastic cheering was all he needed. He plunged back into you and grabbed your hips for leverage, using you like a fleshlight. Your tits hurt from the force of his thrusts, slapping your chest with every bounce. It wasn’t long before you had your second orgasm. Your body went slack. You were tired, thirsty, and overstimulated. Peter chased his release and came inside again. You tried to remember if you had taken your birth control this morning, but your head was so fuzzy from the wine and the pleasure that you couldn’t even remember your own name.

He moaned again before addressing his audience. “Fuck, she’s so tight. And all mine, too.” All his? Your brain slammed back into reality. Suddenly you felt sober. It was only all you had dreamed of since you were an obsessed teen. You turned to look back at him.

He reached out to stroke your mascara-stained cheek. “You like that? Well, if you keep following us on tour, you can be. But just me and you next time – if you’d prefer.” Before you could reply, he slipped out of you. You eyed the soaked panties that had made their way onto the coffee table. The guys were finished with them. You moved to pull your clothes back on, but Peter’s nimble fingers stopped you.

“You have a good time?”

You answered enthusiastically, wanting to please him enough for him to keep you around.

“We’re not done yet, then. That’s not what I promised – until you can’t speak, remember?” He pulled you back down as the others filed out of the room. Peter laughed as you gave in; it sent a shiver down your spine. On his command, you knelt in front of him.

It was nearly sunrise when the cab pulled up to take you home. You ached all over, but you had never felt more alive – or more giddy – in your life. You had earned that VIP pass, and you intended to use it over and over and over again

#type o negative #peter steele #peter steele x reader #type o negative x reader #fanfiction #fem!reader #goth fanfic #fanfic

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muzansfangs · 1 year ago

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I just read your "Accidentally sees you naked" fic

AJD EJDNEMRRJBRBRHEBE

IM FROTHING LITERALLY--- 😭❤️❤️

I WAS BLUSHING SO HARD WHILE READING URAHARA, AIZEN AND JUGRAM'S JDBEUBEJE! 🙈🙈

There are hardly any fics about Haschwalth anywhere 😭

If you get time van you write something similar with Haschwalth but both of them receiving the "nice treatment" ya'know (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

Forbidden attraction.

Starring: Haschwalth Jugram x f!reader; Giselle and Candice;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, slight alteration of canon events, dom!Haschwalth, sub!reader, oral sex (f!reader receiving), oral sex (Haschwalth receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, language, kidnapping, biting, mention of murderous intents, verbal abuse, threats;

Plot: while you were a mere human without any valuable ability, you were Ichigo Kurosaki’s adoptive sister. That alone was enough for Yhwach to kidnap you and confine you into a cell in his luxurious palace. Everyone loathed you and that was the main reason why you rarely left your room. That and the fact that you would have rather been alone than spending your time with the people who were trying to kill your friends and family. However, one of the them, the one no one dared to cross, had always protected you from the sharp tongues of his colleagues. He was cold, distant, impeccable, deadly, not bothered by human emotions. But you, you literally drove him nuts.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

One month. You started to wonder if your friends had forgotten about you in the chaos of the war. You were almost getting used to the white walls of your new bedroom. Everything radiated a creepy purity that made your stomach clench in disgust. You loathed the grey and white walls, just like you wanted to rip to shreds the snow-white blankets of the king sized bed you slept in every single night, since they had thrown you in that majestic chamber. They did not call it a prison and, actually, it really was not a cell. But your heart felt like you were trapped into one.

The inhabitants of that dull fortress despised you. You could see the way they looked at you, when you were forced to leave your room. You knew they would have loved to tear you apart, scattering your limbs around for your friends to collect. You were a useless human being, after all. They did not get why Yhwach had ordered them to kidnap you. He could have just asked them to kill you right on the spot, leaving you to die an agonizing death and drown in a pool of your own blood.

Yet, there you were. You had a comfortable bedroom, a private space and you were even granted the chance to have all the drinks and food you craved, along with fresh clothes and blankets.

You were sitting on the windowsill, a book in your hand, as you tried to keep your mind focused on something else than the army of psychopaths roaming down the corridors outside your room. However, your door banging opened all of a sudden made you shriek on your seat, your grip on the novel slipping, as the volume landed on the marble floor with a thud.

Eyes widening even so slightly, you flicked your gaze up at the intruders of the hour and your blood instantly ran cold. Giggles and light footsteps echoed in the room as the two wicked Sternritters walked in, closing the door behind them hastily to taunt you out of prying eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

“Ah, there you are! I’m so glad you are still alive…” Candice piped out, her leaf green eyes locking with yours as she folded her arms against her chest to stare you down in disdain.

“Isn’t she pretty, Candice? I mean, I could make her even prettier, if I turned her into a zombie! What do you say? Should I do it? Ah, she looks delicious!” the shorter one, Giselle, chimed in as she strolled towards you with a malicious glint in her doe eyes. Maybe, Giselle was the worst of them all. Those blue orbs of hers had been transfixed on you since the first day you had stepped into that pit of vipers. Her intent was clear.

More than once, even when you were minding your business, the Sternritter Z had tried to approach you and whisper in your ear all the wicked things she wished she could do to you.

Chills ran down your spine, as you gritted your teeth and glared at them “Get out of my room. You don’t seem that smart, otherwise you would think twice before laying a finger on me. If you hurt me, you would probably end up dead too” you stated, clenching your fists down your sides, as you tried to stand your ground.

They laughed at your face, their grins making it painly clear that you were nothing more than a joker to mock and abuse for their entertainment.

“Oh, would you look at that, Giselle? The tramp is finally showing her teeth! Maybe I should just electrocute her” Candice blurted out, her spiritual pressure increasing as she showed you her fist and the familiar sparks of green and blue electricity engulfing it.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of what would have probably determined your death and your heartbeat increased notably. You were hopeless this time. Your lower lip wobbled, your arms raising up in a defensive stance, as you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the pain to strike you.

For the first time ever, you wished he was there to save you. You never appreciated his assistance, his cold and detached help, but this time your life was in danger. His deep voice, his scent and the sound of his cape fluttering around his slender figure were things you were grown almost fond of. He was the worst of the worst, the man you should have feared the most among those blood-thirsted monsters. Yet, he was the only one who treated you with respect and kindness.

Sometimes, you wondered if he really cared about you. Once you had even dared to ask him why he protected you from his subordinates, although you never received an answer. His stolid façade never cracked.

Maybe, he did not genuinely care about you and, if he had bumped into you on the battlefield, he would have probably sliced you up like a tenderloin, but there was something else in his icy blue eyes, when he helped you clean your wounds, or left new novels on your nightstand for you to find when you woke up in the morning.

He was just executing Yhwach’s orders, right?

“Don’t mess up her face, Candy! I want my new toy to look pretty!” Giselle’s voice abruptly interrupted your stream of consciousness, reminding you of how miserable your end was going to be.

How ironic was it that you were thinking of Haschwalth Jugram in the last moments of your life?

Candice hummed and sprinted towards you, a sadistic smirk gracing her lips as she consumed the distance between you two. You flinched in anticipation, waiting for her fist to make contact with your cheek, but a gust of wind whipping your face and the sound of a sword being unsheathed made you instantly relax.

You could have not been so lucky, right? But his deep voice echoing through your room and the gasps of fear from your aggressors made you lift your lids up to witness to the scene unraveling before your eyes.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, but apparently you two understand only violence. — Haschwalth said, his tone of voice flat but firm — Leave this room and do not even dare to glance at her anymore” he deadpanned, watching as the two Sternritters reluctantly nodded their heads and darted their eyes on you one last time, quick to leave you two alone.

The door closing behind them with a slam made you release a breath you did not know you were holding. He had saved once again. Your fingers were still trembling as you hopped down from the windowsill, your feet finally hitting the polished floor. You were still breathing quite heavily, your mouth dry, making it almost impossible for you to even mutter a simple ‘thank you’.

His back was still facing you, his broad shoulders and his height imposing over you and causing a turmoil of contrasting emotions in your stomach.

“Thank you, Haschwalth” you breathed out then, darting your eyes on the white wall not to be forced to lock eyes with him, when he turned around to look at your shaking frame.

Blonde and long hair, light-blue eyes and that white uniform he wore had always reminded you of how similiar to the popular portrait of a Prince Charming he was, despite his cruel intentions and villainous antics. His exterior jarred with his physical appearence.

“You were lucky I was around” he stated flatly, his eyes intently studying your features.

What was that insufferable feeling consuming him from the insides, whenever you were around him? It was not only connected to the way your beauty whetted his appetites, it was not a lustful and carnal desire. There was more. You were most likely the only person he did not enterily despise.

“Yeah, probably” you replied shortly, fumbling with the hem of your shirt in nervousness. He could sense you were avoiding his gaze, fear and anxiety were flinging around you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, not moving an inch from where he was standing.

“I’m fine”.

Haschwalth did not trust you. He took a single step towards you, his hand reaching down to raise your face and his thumb and forefinger grasped your chin. Your eyes met for a split second, your heart skipping a beat at the unexpected gentle touch, but you were still way too shaken from the previous events to even bear a confrontation with him. Therefore, you swatted his hand away and took a step back, only to end up against the wall behind you. Your back flattened against it, your eyes half-lidded as you shot a pleading glance up at him.

Haschwalth was not surprised by your reaction but, instead of pushing your buttons further, he dropped his arm back down his side and arched a blonde eyebrow up. You had never really shoved him off of you, when he tended your wounds or checked on you. Something had changed. Was it only fear? The fear of being touched by one of the same people that had tried to harm you was undoubtedly coursing through your veins, glowing into your wary eyes, but there was something more. It was another kind of fear.

“What is it now? Am I not allowed to touch you anymore? You did not seem to be that scared of me before” he pointed out, resting his left hand on the hilt of his sword out of habit.

Cold sweat ran down your back at the accusation. Why had you escaped his gentle touch? It was not the fear of being hurt. You were liking your proximity, his concern, even though it was surely fake, was comforting. You liked his touch and that fact terrorized you to the point that your stomach clenched and twisted at the thought of how you craved some warmth, especially his warmth.

“It’s not—” you started, but a knock on the door cut you off, as Haschwalth immediately walked up to grasp the silver handle and opening it.

A petite woman, holding a refined silver tray in her gloved hands, came in. Her eyes were downcast as she silently settled it on your table, before bowing her head at the both of you and scurring out of your room. She did not fear you. She would have probably been capable of causing you enough damage to kill you, if you two were to engage a fight. It was him the one she was scared of.

“I was just about to wish you a good rest. Enjoy your dinner” he then spoke out, glancing briefly at you before disappearing behind the door too.

Once again, you were alone with your thoughts and contrasting feelings. You were not that hungry anymore, after what had happened, but you needed to eat to keep yourself healthy. As you sat down at your desk and poured yourself a glass of water, you realized that the event causing your lack of appetite was not what had happened with the Sternitters T and Z. It was the Sternitter B’s fault.

A restless night followed your meal. You thought you could find some peace among the silky bedsheets of your bed, but everything about that bedroom reminded you of him. Your eyes darted on the clock beside your bed, sighing as, much to your dismay, you realized it was two in the morning. For three hours you had tried to shift positions, read some more pages of the historical novel Haschwalth had left for you to read, but nothing worked. Your body craved some sleep, but your mind was unstoppable.

In a utter distress, you scoffed and sat up on the bed, bringing your knees to your chest and curling yourself up in a ball. Your forehead rested on the top of your knees, eyes closed, as you listened to the steady sound of the clock ticking. You were tired of being stuck in that place, you were tired of restraining yourself to feel forbidden emotions.

But just when you thought things could not get worst, you heard the door creaking open again. You lifted your head up, alredy alarmed by the fact that someone was entering your chamber in the the dead of the night, when you were supposed to be vulnerable and asleep.

However, as you jumped out of the bed and switched the lights on, you gasped at the sight of Haschwalth holding some books in his hands. He furrowed his brows, clearly not expecting to find you wide awake and ready to throw hands, if it was necessary.

“I thought you were asleep. I apologize, it was not my intention to startle you” Haschwalth declared, settling the three books over the desk.

You shrugged and looked at your feet, realizing how poorly covered you were before him. Your nightgown barely reached the middle of your thighs, granting him the chance to look at the entire length of your legs.

“I can’t sleep. Thank you for the books, anyway” you said, gesturing at the novels he had just brought to you as a form of entertainment from the living hell you were experiencing. It was a small attention he reserved to you, one of the things that made you believe he actually had an ounce of uncontaminated respect towards you.

“It’s nothing. You told me you liked to read, when you arrived here. You mentioned it being the closest form of freedom and escapism a prisoner could get to experience” the tall Sternitter said, his eyes somehow softer as he gazed at you.

Was it an attempt to make a small and civil conversation with you? Whatever it was, you were glad he had given some importance to your words. While the accomodation was something he had provided you under the strict command of his King, this was a small gesture of sympathy and mercy coming right from his core. In that very moment, it was hard believing he was the same cold-blooded man that had massacred legions of shinigamis before your eyes.

You bitterly smiled, making an effort in dealing with reality as you bit the insides of your cheeks. You oughed him some sort of an answer and, judging by his curious gaze, he was expecting you to reply something.

“You were not obliged to lend me your novels. I thought you were supposed to simply keep me alive and hold me captive… — you reasoned, your voice calm as you switched your attention from the blue cover of the book to his pale visage — These small gestures are not your Master’s orders, am I right?” you inquired, hoping this time he would properly retort something instead of walking away and avoiding your questions.

“Why do you care? It’s not the first time you’re questioning my actions” the blonde man noted, elgantly gliding his hand over the smooth surface of the desk.

You hated the way your eyes followed his movements attentively, or the way your mind played tricks on you.

‘How would those huge, calloused hands feel on my skin?’ you asked yourself, before turning around and sitting on the edge of the bed. The tension was palpable and you were more than sure that, despite the umpertubable expression freezing his face over, he could sense it too. After all, if your eyes had acted on their own accord and lingered on him for way too long, his ones were doing the same.

“Because I can’t figure you out” you admitted softly, sinking your foreteeth onto your bottom lip right after it.

You did not expect him to bother keeping this conversation up, but you were surprised as he took a step towards you and looked down at you. His jaw was clenched, eyes boring into yours in what resembled frustration, a battle clearly waging into his logical mind, as he stunned you in silence with his own confession.

“Honestly, I cannot figure you out too and it is driving me nuts” he stated bitterly, causing you to swallow down forcefully.

You tried to speak again, but the only sound leaving your lips was a small gasp of surprise as he wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you up on your feet. You craned your neck to look him in the eye and all you saw was a primordial desire, the same flame enveloping your heart and leaving ashes in your chest.

Before you had time to realize what was happening, his hands glided down your spine, until he hooked them behind your thighs and lifted you up easily. Your eyes were wide opened, as your legs were now tightly wrapped around his waist. What followed was a sinful action you did not fully know back then, if you would have ever been able to forgive yourself from having done.

His lips hingrily captured yours, as he made your back flatten against the wall. Your fingers found his hair, as your lips followed the lead of the man used to command and give orders. His tongue dominated yours without any resistance coming from you. It was too much to handle, too pleasurable to stop now.

A small moan left your lips, as he bit down onto your lower lip before he attacked your neck with equal hunger for your flesh, for you. You felt your cheeks boiling, his touch consuming you to the bone as if he was coating you in lava. Each bite onto your neck, or down to your cleavage, was a sign of how much he was conflicted by what he was feeling around you. You made him lose himself, it was unacceptable.

As his hand slithered down in the middle of you thighs, you felt ashamed of yourself for how much you wanted him to touch you. Haschwalth groaned as the pads of his fingers met the damp fabric of your panties, gliding them up and down through the thin item only to increase your arousal.

“Dripping for your enemy, tsk” he rasped, tugging them harshly to the side before drawing irregular patterns over your bundle of nerves.

Electricity coursed through your veins, your toes curling at the dirty remark he had made. The worst part of it was that he was right, there was no way you could deny it, or hide it from you. Not when his fingers easily delved into your warm core. Whimpers of pleasure fell from your lips as you lolled your head back against the wall, chest raising and falling erratically as you tried your best not to make too much noise.

However, despite his long fingers thrusting into you made it hard to think straight, you somehow still found the guts to fire something back.

“I may be dripping but you’re rock hard” you panted, mewling as Haschwalth remove his index from your aching heat and settled you back down on your feet.

His hands meticulously slipped underneath your nightgown, grasping the straps of your underwear and dragging the item down your legs, until they rested on your ankles. He was feral, almost tearing the panties apart as he hastily tossed them somewhere behind him. Haschwalth knelt down in front of you and grasped your right leg, draping it over his shoulder as he shot a lustful glare.

“I liked you better when you simply moaned” he remarked, before running his tongue flatly down your slit. You whined, eyes squeezing shut as your fingers threaded his hair in pleasure. No one had ever gone down on you like that, as if the juices streaming down your inner thighs were some divine nectar.

His lips sucked deliciously on your throbbing clit, making your legs shaking violently as you tried to keep yourself straight against the wall. You could not get enough, your mouth hanging open as you did not even care about who heard you anymore. Who would have complained about what was happening in your bedroom anyway? There was a perverse sting of satisfaction and pride in watching the Sternitter Grand Master delve his tongue into you. He was on his knees for you, serving a prisoner as if she was some queen whose approval counted.

As you whimpered one last time, hips bucking up against his face, Haschwalth growl and squeezed your rear in primordial desire. You came onto his tongue, almost slumping down onto the floor as he pulled away from you and wiped his chin and mouth with a tissue in his double-breast jacket.

More. He wanted more, he was ready for more. He could not fight the attraction he felt for you, therefore he had no qualms about dragging you to the bed and quickly unbuckle the belt of his trousers. Your eyes were glued on him as you watched the way he slowly stripped out of his candid uniform. His abs, his chest, his thighs seemed the precious work of a greek sculptor. Never in your life you had seen someone as perfect as he was.

You thought that removing your nighthgown was the least you could do for him. You did not fail to notice how his eyes gazed at your perky breasts, just like you almost flinched at the sight of his shaft spriging out of his tight boxers.

“Come here” he said, his tone unnaturally soothing as he climbed onto the bed and stood up on his knees. You did not hesitate to follow his command, your mouth watering as you crawled up to him and gently wrapped your hand around his cock. There was no more shame in your eyes, your body almost moving under the influence of a forbidden desire eating you up from the inside.

You heard him suck in a breath, his eyes closing, as you started to swirl your tongue around the pinkish tip to tease him. His hand grabbed the back of your neck and prompted you to give him more, to part your lips and let him experience the warmth of your welcoming mouth. You did not put on a fight, eager to hear him grunt just as much as he had enjoyed breaking you earlier. Each inch you took in made him tightened the grip on your hair, your mouth and tongue working to let him accomodate into your cavity.

“Damn it…” Haschwalth huskily said, a guttural moan falling from his lips, while you bobbed your head up and down to elicit more moans from him. Yet, he stopped you. Gripping on your hair tightly enough to make you pull your mouth away from him, he sighed and pushed you down onto your back.

For a second, you thought you were not doing a good job but, when he hovered over you and spread your legs for him to settle in between, his thumb brushed over your lower lip and he whispered something in your ear that made you whimper in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, it’s just that I intend to empty myself into you” he uttered, hooking one of your leg around his hip before shoving himself into you slowly, gradually.

A strained moan left your lips, as he grunted and bit onto the crook of your neck with each inch he conquered into you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your skull, the intrusion both pleasurable and painful as you adjusted yourself at his impressive size.

As Haschwalth carefully began to thrust into you, your hands cupped his smooth cheeks. Your lips found each others in sloppy and messy kisses, so unlike him, out of his style, out of the world. You could not believe you had allowed him into your bed, the sound of skin against skin filling the room and fueling something inside the composed Sternitter.

His hand found its way around your neck, the other flying up to the bedhead to balance himself as his hips smacked against yours in a feral pace. You did not protest to the blatant act of dominance, the grip on your neck only increasing your pleasure as you could focusing on your sensation.

“H-Hascwalth, I—” you whimpered, eyes watering as you gripped the bedsheets beside you so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“I know… Me too” he rasped, before releasing your neck and kissing you passionately. Your legs shook, your moan muffled by his lips pressing against your as you both came. His forehead was resting against yours, as he panted and gently stroked your cheek.

Sleeping was not hard, after that. You fell asleep over his chest, one of his arm draped over your waist in a firm grip, in which you woke up in the morning. Once again, when he slept, it was hard to believe Haschwalth Jugram was a monster. Haschwalth Jugram was just an angel who had lost his wings down his way to Hell.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am not going to apologize for that long and lewd one-shot. Actually, looking back at all of my works, this is probably the filthiest thing I have ever written in my life, lol! Well, what can I say? Some characters bring out the worst in me… Let me know what you guys think about this! Likes, comments and re-posts are always appreciated!

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @stygianoir @byakuyandaizenwifey @shattereddreamssara and my queen @sashi-ya because, if I’m not mistaken, you kind of like our deadly Prince Charming✨

#jugram haschwalth x reader #jugram x reader #haschwalth jugram #bleach smut #bleach x reader #jugram haschwalth #haschwalth jugram x reader #bleach jugram #bleach tybw #haschwalth x reader

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 7 months ago

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The Lookalike (Part 3)

☒ Summary: “Surely you’re not embarrassed,” he said, running his tongue thoughtfully over his teeth. You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you have fallen into his clutches.

☒ Warnings: Alastor X Reader, implied Vox X reader, hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit sexual content, injury and treatment, reader is in Hell for a reason, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Parts: Part 1! Part 2! Part 4! Part 5! Part 6! Part 6 BONUS SCENE! Part 7 ! Part 8! Part 9 Epilogue!

Through half-lidded eyes, you helped Alastor undress you; peeling away your bloodied tailcoat and unbuttoning your shirt, slow and unhurried. You winced as he pulled your shirt off over your injured arm, and he paused, letting you shear the fabric with your talons to leave the section that was stuck to your injury in place.

When he came to your trousers he eyed the mess you had made with interest, one curious finger scooping up some of the cum that pooled at your adonis belt. Alastor held the sample to the light, sniffed it, and with a brief glance down at you, sucked it from his fingertip. The sight sent heat to your face, a twinge in your spent cock, and it must have showed in your expression because Alastor’s grin widened.

“Surely you’re not embarrassed,” he said, running his tongue thoughtfully over his teeth.

“A little.” You returned his gaze, the post-orgasmic peace you felt leaving you a little bolder than you might have otherwise been. It would be quite the sight, you thought, to see him lick your mons clean with his long red tongue. “Am I to your tastes?”

Alastor balled your ruined shirt in his hand and used it to wipe the remnants of your cum from your skin, the motion considered and almost tender. “The wrong question, little pretender. I think you are already well aware of where my predilections lie.” His gaze ran the path from your navel to your face, and his eyes locked with yours once more. “In this delectable little world of ours, you see, our forms are determined by our natures.” Lifting the balled up shirt from your skin, he gripped it tight in his fist, and green flame sprung from it, consuming the fabric. In the green light, his face was cast in eerie shadow, his eyes glowing red. “You would not resemble me like this if we were not very much alike.”

Naked, you sat cross-legged on the bed as Alastor fetched a polished wooden case full of surgeon’s tools. His gaze had none of the unconstrained lust for you that Vox’s had, which was hardly surprising since the forms you held were so similar, though the way Alastor had paused when stripping your underwear from you told you that you probably weren’t identical in all regards.

Alastor sat before you, picking scissors, needle and thread and disinfectant from his kit before he gestured for you to give him your arm. Your first instinct was to refuse, but you knew from experience that stitching up an injury one-handed was fiddly, so you held out your hand for him, palm down, and let him move you by the wrist.

The cuts from his talons were deep, and dried blood stuck the remaining piece of shirt fabric to the injury. Taking one end of the fabric between his fingers, Alastor began to tug it from the injury, and a hiss of pain escaped your lips as it welled fresh blood.

“Did you make a deal with the television demon?” he asked, casually, as if he weren’t in the middle of re-opening the gashes he had made on your forearm.

You controlled your voice, wincing as he tugged a little more of the strip away. “No, not with anyone.”

Alastor’s grin betrayed no surprise. “And he has no other leverage on you? No family, friends?”

“He doesn’t,” you said. “But how do you know I’m not lying about that?”

“Lying to me? With my own face? Now, that I’d like to see!” Alastor laughed to himself. “I believe we each have something the other wants, little pretender. If you’d hear me out.”

You swiveled your ears towards him for effect. “I’m listening.”

Alastor’s own ears gave a twitch of amusement as he soaked a wad of cotton in disinfectant. “First, I want a promise of silence from you. You speak of nothing that I offer you next, and nothing that I ask of you next, regardless of the terms we settle on.”

A Hellish nondisclosure agreement? Interesting. You held still, a small squeak escaping your lips as Alastor applied the antiseptic. It stung, worse than the original wound had. Swallowing your pain, you tried not to sound like you had felt it. “Sure, I'll shake on that.”

Alastor took your hand in his, his palm pressed to your fingers as he looked you in the eye. “A deal,” he said, quietly, and there was green light around you, the smell of brimstone. The sensation of the deal itself was a strange one, almost like vertigo, and you noted it for later.

“So, what is it that you want from me?” You held your arm steady as Alastor pushed the needle through your skin for the first of the stitches your injuries needed. It hurt, but not as badly as the disinfectant from a moment ago, the thread that followed a queasy pull on your skin through the hole, and you pulled a face. “I hope you're not wanting to lock me in your bedroom too.”

Alastor laughed. “And let your talents go to waste? I think not.” He finished another stitch, pulling it closed without making your skin buckle where the sides of the wound met, so that the injury would heal with minimal scarring. A surge of appreciation for the care welled in your chest as he continued. “It just so happens that I can think of a great many things that I could do with a body double.”

You gave him a frown. “I'm not going to agree to a great many things.”

“I think you'll be favorably disposed.” Alastor pushed the needle in once more, a sting with the puncture and a pull with the thread. “Let me spell out my conditions.”

“I'm a captive audience.”

“Hm. Quite.” Alastor paused his stitching, holding up the needle between thumb and forefinger. “The first condition, you will harm no-one within this hotel.”

“Physical harm?” you asked, watching Alastor’s face. It was hard to read him behind the smile, but your gut told you that he was amused rather than irritated by the challenge.

“No physical or metaphysical harm,” he clarified brightly. “Emotional harm is fine.”

“If I'm being attacked?”

“Then you'll call me for help.”

“And if you don't come to save me?”

Alastor sighed, threading the needle through the skin on your forearm once more as he resumed the stitches. “Then you have yourself a loophole.” He tied off the stitch, cutting the ends of the knot close to the skin, the whisper of cold metal from the scissor blades making you shiver. “The second condition- you bring no trouble to the hotel.”

“Trouble? Is Vox trouble?” The television demon was likely to come after you, and you couldn’t agree to a deal you had no hope of fulfilling.

Alastor gave you a laconic look. “Vox was coming for me long before you arrived, my dear.”

“Done, then. I like a quiet life.”

Alastor looked at you with something close to approval before moving to the second parallel gash on your arm, pulling the injury together with his talons as he lined up the needle for the first stitch. “The third condition-” He began, hesitating. “The Radio Demon must be feared. My reputation must be maintained. My detractors must be dealt with.”

“You seem capable of that yourself.”

“I have certain obligations.” Alastor’s smile did not falter, but it was easy to see that this was why he had asked for your consent to nondisclosure. “I am limited. You, however…” He paused to make a stitch, the drag of the thread through your skin almost familiar by now.

“You want me to hunt for you,” you finished for him.

“If that's what you want to call it.”

You frowned, lowering your ears. “I don't like the idea of someone else picking quarry for me.”

“Would you rather not hunt at all?” asked Alastor, tying the knot on another stitch.

You thought about it. You remembered the times when you had stopped. When you had been forced to stop. It had been an itch. You breathed out through your nose. “Give me veto rights. I don’t have to kill anyone I don’t want to.”

Alastor’s smile was tight. “That's hardly a fair deal. You're practically doing what you want, at that point.”

“Isn't that true of your end of the bargain too? I get the feeling that you don't want the television demon fucking someone with your face.”

Alastor’s lips pulled back from his teeth. “Are you sure you want to provoke someone who is currently stitching your arm closed?”

“I'm negotiating.” You watched Alastor carefully. Naked and injured, in his territory, you ought to have been the one at a disadvantage, but your mention of Vox had set him practically snarling. Part of you wanted to poke him more, just to see how he reacted, but the pragmatic part of you told you to play it gently. “And I'm not opposed to the deal. I just need a little free rein, that's all.”

“I could use an extra pair of hands around the hotel,” conceded Alastor, after a pause. “Janitorial work, front desk. Agree to that, and you can have your veto.”

“Regular hours?”

Alastor’s ear twitched, and he looked up from the stitching, the work nearly complete. “I’m not a slavedriver, if that’s what you’re trying to imply. You can have your nine to five, little pretender, two days off a week.”

You smiled at him, your expression matching his. “I think I can live with that.”

“We have a deal, then,” said Alastor, his eyes creasing at the corners as he tied the final knot.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #vox x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor hazbin hotel

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solarstqrs · 7 months ago

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᯾HEARTBEAT᯾

yelan,nilou,furina x fem!reader(seperate)

minors nsfw dni!

cw:rope bunny(yelan) bondage(yelan) degrading and praise (duhh) cuniligus(nilou) hair pulling(nilou) strap on use (furina)finger sucking(furina&yelan)slight cock worship(furina) petnames

a/n: i relented and i wrote it…

Yelan

oo you knew better than to be bratty while she gambled with other paterons at her teahouse. rooms filled with top notch luxury and 8 pool tables the green table scratching your back.

Perky tits in the air aswell as your ass yelan cant help but tug at the string thats strangling your thighs and pretty tits in her eyes she chuckled softly at your expression her cold blue eyes boring into yours.

“Cute, you look pathetic bunny.”

she smirked wanting to gobble up your adorable form aswell as rip your tits nerve by nerve to make you feel all good. her hand landed on your mouths tapping your plump lips one by one

“is my pretty whore desperate?”

her eyes peered at your desperate filled ones possibily feeling some pity for you being all tied up just for her, You couldnt answer her question in time maybe it was from the embarssment you were facing by her cold stare

she sighed before shoving her fingers in your mouth

“Answer the question puppy, Are you desperate?”

you nodded the ropes tugging at your skin tightly, They were wet but goddamn they hurt like a bitch. Feeling yelans fingers twist and turn in your mouth is enough to finally beg her to fuck you

“im sofrwy” your mouth stuffed full of her digits

“thats not properly baby”

“pwlearse” is all you can muster up before feeling a kiss land on your forehead

“if my baby can say it properly ill loosen the rope and fuck you.”

it was enough to get you stimulated enough but this? it was gonna be a long n wet night indeed

nilou

“baby m’sorry go faster..” her breaths shuddered gripping your hair so tightly

she was so tired from overworking herself at the stage and dance everyone just can get on her nerves sometimes despite this she sucks it up know you’re gonna lick and suck her up behind those curtains whenever she asks

“n-mh..baby..” her voice is breaking all because of the way you’re tongue works on her slit licking up every drop of her sweet release as your forehead feels her shakey abdomen rise and fall each second and the heat radiating from it.

her blue shawl massacred under your preadatory gaze and hunger. You always needed a drop of nilou on your tongue shes so addictive so tasty you couldnt leave that behind despite every treatment gaven to her

shes is yours afterall.

“m-mH! love thats it!” her voice reaches its peak as your head full of hair is pulled with every ounce of strength nilou had left

“you did so good..c’mon just..one more please love?”

furina

“oh hoho!~ look whos crying over my cock now afterall?”

she smugly grinned at the shaking of your abdomen as the strap on was placed atop of it, It felt cold yet warm n fuzzy about what was gonna happen next

“please furina need your cock..” you whined furina was generally so sweet in bed fucking you just the way you want and listening to what you need but you messed with her on set and looks like your back to the drawing board

“say it.” her words were sharper than the blade she carried; justice and disguise

you looked at her and had a dust of pink dance on your cheek

“i need..need…i need your giant cock inside me lady furina..” you mumbled not wanting to say it aloud

“hm? oh whats that? i could’nt hear you love, Louder.” she responds more harsher than her last response

“i need your..i need your giant cock inside please furina I can’t” you finally whine out but still she had that stare

“L-lady furina..” you stumbled over your words this time it was impossible not to afterall she had this effect on you. She smirked and finally sighed opening your pretty thighs immdieatly.

“Maybe ill shut your pathetic mouth while im at it hm?”

she smiles at you all you can do is just take before she shoves her gloved hand your mouth.

“so filithy. Dont get my white gloves stainned with your words kay love?”

she smiles clutching your thigh expecting a response. As you nod desperatly she knows shes won so she sighs and smiles before aliging her with a piercing slam was so shocking you didnt even have time to register it.

“love..your gonna be good for me right? try not to shake to much hm? I dont want a replay of your bratty behaviour one bit.”

she smirked all you could do was nod knowing how bad you fucked up to piss the director off.

#genshin smut #genshin women smut #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #furina x you #furina smut #furina #yelan x you #yelan smut #yelan x reader #yelan genshin impact #nilou smut #nilou x you #nilou x reader #nilou #genshin nilou

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months ago

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Now, this house may look like your average 1968 ranch style home in Camarillo, CA, but it's actually either a sexy place or some sort of business. I don't know if the equipment conveys, but take a look anyway. 3bds, 2ba, $899,999.

It's move-in ready. Note the security keypad, can't be too careful w/your toys and set-ups, nowadays. Note the jingle bells hanging, so you can ring when you enter.

Don't bother to look for a living room. The current occupants don't have a need for one. Maybe it's a place of business, I'm confused. Could that be a 2-way mirror where they sit at the table, have a snack, and watch the show?

Now, here's bd. #1 w/a sturdy looking bed that features a mirrored canopy and ropes or pulley's, I don't know. It looks like it may jack up and down. Again, I don't know.

Bath #1 is a small shower room.

In this room, that wall hides a large Murphy bed.

See?

Is this a teen's room?

Bedroom #3 also has a rope/system with another one attached to the ceiling.

It'a a little tight in here.

And, then, here's bath #2. The toilet and tub can be closed off by a curtain.

Maybe this is a treatment room of some sort? Unless it's a play Dr. room. I'm so confused. Note the chain on the ceiling and on the wall. According to the floor plan, it's a treatment room (wink, wink).

Then, there's the pole dancing room. No matter what this house is, it's so cold and unwelcoming.

The laundry room.

And, in here there's a nice pool room.

That looks like a canvas house. Why do they need a tent house? I'm afraid to ask.

In the yard, they have a pergola, seating, a BBQ grill and a hot tub (I wonder if the base it's on rotates).

Plus, there's another covered place to sit and a putting green.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2249-Lonsdale-St-Camarillo-CA-93010/16366937_zpid/?

#WTF house #houses #house tours #home tour

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lazypanartist · 2 months ago

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Ivo Robotnik isn't used to closeness. Whether that be from his upbringing, his personality, or the nature of his job, he tends not to form lasting connections.

All of this to say, he's not entirely sure what to do when he wakes up one morning, still at his desk, a blanket now draped across his shoulders like some overbearing mother - in his eyes - had decided his conditions were too harsh for his "frail body".

None of his underlings mentioned it. Nobody acted suspicious, and nothing was ever said of the incident.

The first incident, of many.

Several lower-level assistants, come and gone. Some higher lever, as well. Very few consistent figures in his ever-changing staff with clearance high enough to enter his personal office, with a blanket, and enough time or tact to keep the door and their mouth both shut.

He takes it on like any other mission of his, with a small caveat - he refuses to check the security footage or logins to his office. He wants a challenge, not merely a victory.

Every night he passes out at his desk, every morning he wakes up with a small gesture of kindness from one of his underlings, and every morning he goes through any other inconsistencies in his office. Moved papers, books, fingerprints.

All leads come up empty. His perpetrator is smart enough to use gloves, and the only change besides the blanket seems to be his goggles resting next to his face instead of smushed into his forehead.

He chooses not to confide in Stone - his personal assistant, one of many over the years. Nobody received special treatment, nobody was exempt from scrutiny in his personal little investigation.

From job to job he went, waking up with his small token of kindness around his shoulders, a smaller and smaller pool of suspects until he has the overlapping employees narrowed down to two.

His realization only comes with the introduction of Green Hills. Of course, he has a small team, and only one of his two suspects is accompanying him.

And when he wakes up the night after tracking down Wade, blanket over his shoulders and Stone already at work in the lab, he knows he made the right choice in hiring the man, the sycophant - the only human he feels any sort of connection to.

#agent stone #stobotnik #doctor robotnik #dr robotnik #dr ivo robotnik #robotnik #aban stone #sonic #sonic movie #sonic movie 2020 #sth #sth fandom #stobotnik fic

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 11 months ago

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Had a hankerin' to see Ed get pampered and fussed over by the crew, so wrote this little scene. Bon appétit, get loved nerd

It happened, Ed thought, because he still wasn’t used to going without the gloves.

He’d been helping the crew run the rigging, and he’d assumed he’d be fine, estimating based on having some sort of cover on his hands, and he’d fucked up and wound up with a rope burn down his palm.

He grit his teeth and put up with it, only allowing himself to gingerly shake his hand and examine the injury once the job was done. “Shitfuck,” he mumbled to himself as he looked at the blood pooling in his palm.

“What’s that? Rope burn?” Frenchie looked at Ed’s hand over his shoulder, and then waved his hand to get Roach’s attention. “Oy! We’ve got a rope burn!”

Ed jumped a mile at a hand on his arm, and turned to see Archie pointing him to go sit down on the railing.

“No, no, that’s not-” Ed cleared his throat, instinctually stuffing his injured hand in his pocket. “It’s just a rope burn.”

“Yeah, and Jim got a rope burn last week, and they let us take care of them,” Archie said. “You think you’re tougher than them? You wanna say that to their face?”

“Guess not.” Ed allowed himself to be steered towards the railing, and his face burned when the crew gathered around to gawk at his injured hand. Olu winced sympathetically, and Pete tried to pretend he’d seen worse even as he turned a bit green.

“Might need to amputate it,” Pete said.

“Fuck no!” Ed hid his hand behind his back. “It’s barely bleeding, man.”

“Your loss,” Pete shrugged. “I could make you a really cool wooden hand. Probably cooler than Spanish Jackie’s, even.”

“I swear to God, babe,” Lucius hissed, “you’ve got to stop telling people we need to cut their limbs off.”

“Who’s got the rope burn?” That was Roach, pushing through the crowd with a bowl of water in hand and a roll of bandages tucked beneath his elbow. Ed’s face went all hot but Roach didn’t even say a fucking thing, didn’t even question that Ed deserved to be sitting there getting fussed over. “Yowch, that’s a good one. Might need to amputate.”

Ed barely had enough time to gawk open-mouthed at him, considering making a run for it, before Roach laughed playfully.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he chuckled as he held out a hand, waiting for Ed to offer his injured hand up for examination.

Ed gritted his teeth as Roach cleaned the burn with a wet cloth, accompanied by the crew hissing sympathetically.

“Why,” Ed started, before he got a little overwhelmed by everyone continuing to fuss over him like he was a sick kitten and went back to staring sheepishly at the ground.

“Because no one deserves to just sit around and be in pain when we could help,” Olu said, as if that made the most sense in the world. “Why wouldn’t we help? There’s no need for you to just go off and bleed alone somewhere.”

“I mean…” Ed watched as Roach wrapped his hand in a neat bandage. “That’s just life though, isn’t it?”

Archie grinned at him. “Not our life.”

“We’d do the same for any of us,” Frenchie told him reasonably. “Besides, we don’t want you to die, man. Who’d tell the best ghost stories then?”

“And who’d let us know when there’s a storm coming?” Olu added.

Fang smiled at him. “And who would help me fish?”

When Stede stepped out on deck to see what the commotion was about, it was to everyone still standing around Ed, reminding him how he should be sure not to get the dressing on his hand wet, or pick up anything too heavy with that hand, and to be careful to keep it clean. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh, hey, Cap,” Roach said. “Ed got a rope burn.”

Ed kind of lamely held out his injured hand, which still seemed comically disproportionate to the big deal everyone was making out of it. “It’s just a rope burn.”

“Ah.” Stede smiled at Ed’s befuddled expression. “And he’s getting the same treatment Jim got when they got a rope burn last week, I take it?”

Ed ran a finger over the bandages on his hand, only half-listening as they started in with embellishing the story (by the time they finished, Ed had apparently pushed through despite the burn for twenty full minutes, and if you looked, half the rigging was blood-stained). It actually felt a little nice to be fussed over, he thought. He could get used to it.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics #long post #get loved nerd. get absolutely cherished loser

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themorriganwitch · 1 year ago

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The Bronco Sex Diaries Pt1

Summary: A couple of drinks at the hard deck make your boyfriend absolutely insatiable for you. Bradley just wished that Hangman would not have witnessed the two of you

Paring: Bradley Bradshaw x girlfriend!reader

Words: 1,2k

Warning: just porn, no plot, 18+ MDNI!!, oral sex (m!recieving), car sex, dirty talk, a splash of daddy kink , praise kink/ degradation kink

A/N: English is not my first language, please be aware that there will be mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated

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You and Bradley spend your Saturday evening with the dagger squad at the hard deck playing pool and drinking beer while chatting about their upcoming mission, which will take Bradley at least 2 months away from you.

You were not entirely sure if it was because of all the shots Phoenix made your drink, the upcoming deployment or the fact that Bradley wore his brown-green Hawaiian shirt, which matched fantastically with the color of his eyes – all you knew was that the man besides you looked like a fallen god who needs to get his dick sucked as soon as you could make it work.

„Would you say that you are a focused driver?”, you say smiling sheepishly at your boyfriend.

Bradley, who is currently sitting behind the wheel of his bronco, eyes narrowed on the street and one hand resting on your thigh, shots you a confused look.

“Yeah, I think so”.

“Great”, you state enthusiastically, before you loosen your seatbelt and bend over to open your boyfriends’ pants.

“Whoa, Baby Girl. What are you doing?”, Bradley asks wide eyed, still trying to focus on the street.

“I guess that’s quite obvious, Honey. Could you please lift your hips for me?” you ask eagerly while trying to peel him out of his blue jeans.

Always the obeying lieutenant Bradley lifts his hips to give you your desired access. “Baby”, he starts but at that exact moment you slip your hand insides his briefs and instead of the words he wanted to say, he lets out a deep groan.

You slowly pump his half hard dick while you stare amazed at your boyfriend, who tries his hardest to not let fully go into your touch and close his eyes in enjoyment.

“Baby”, he murmured. “Shhhhh”, you make while pulling him out of his shorts.

“Please let me do this for you, Daddy”, you plead. “Need to feel you in my mouth so bad. Could not think about anything else while we were out with our friends. You looked so good when you played pool with Jake. Had to think about sucking you off the whole time”.

“Fucking hell”, Bradley groans. “Take what you need, Baby. I’m all yours”.

He leans back in his seat to give you better access while you sank your head down and wrap your lips around his already leaking tip.

You slowly start to get into a steady rhythm, trying to get him deeper down your throat with every bob. His right hand founds it way into your messed up hair, guiding you down his cock.

“God, Baby. You’re so good for me. Taking me so well. My perfect little slut. Could not think about anything else, huh? Always so needy for your daddy?”, he asks with a smirk.

You nod eagerly, trying to ignore the growing wet patch in your panties. The one hand which you had previously wrapped around the base of his cock, wanders lower to teasingly squeeze his balls, just like you know he loves it.

“Fuck”, he moans, happy that the car was now parked in front of a red light, giving him the chance to close his eyes for a moment and enjoy the treatment he was given.

At least until the very moment he watched a familiar looking white jeep pull up next to his window. “Fuck!”, he repeats his earlier words now completely horrified since you absolutely show no ambition to stop your motions.

No, instead you were now able to take him deep enough that the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat.

“Fuck”, he repeats again, trying desperately not to buck his hips up while no one else but Jake Seresin rolls the window of Coyotes passenger seat down and grins at him.

Bradley, who has no choice but to roll his own window down, shots you a warning glare, which you retort by winking at him, while you let your tongue follow the thick veins of the bottom of his cock.

“Bradshaw”, Hangman grins. “Long time no see”.

“Hangman, Coyote”, Bradley greets his work colleagues who he just left about 15 minutes ago.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”, Coyote asks from his driver seat, brows furrowed in concern.

“Oh”, Rooster starts, but then you gently suck his tip while squeezing his balls accordingly. It took all his willpower to not moan into Hangman’s face.

Bradley clears his throat, opening his mouth trying desperately to find an excuse he could tell his friends while you were sucking the dear life out of him.

Just before he could say something dumb, Jake stumbles as he leans his head out the window.

“Yeah Bradshaw”, Jake starts, a shit eating grin slowly starting to form on his lips. “Where is your girlfriend?”.

With a loud and satisfying plop you let go of your boyfriend’s dick and come eye to eye with your friends, while your hand wanders from his balls back to his dick, pumping him in a steady rhythm.

You smile at the two aviators. Coyote looking at you with his mouth wide open while the gleam in Jakes eyes was clearly to identify as respect. And jealousy.

“If you could excuse us, gentlemen, we need to get home cause I desperately need my boyfriend to fuck me senseless. I wish you a wonderful night”, you say kindly, still pumping Bradley who had his eyes focus on the traffic lights, lips pressed together.

You press a loving kiss to his cheek, nodding towards the lights that now switches to green.

Bradley takes the hint, pressing the foot on the gas not bothering to say his goodbyes.

“Holy Shit”, Bradley says in absolute disbelief. You smile at him cheekily. “Yeah. That was something to remember”. He rolls his eyes. “Do you at least want to finish what you started, Baby?”

“Sure thing, Daddy”, you grin, head already back on its way down his throbbing cock.

You hollow your cheeks to fit him better into your mouth, your rhythm is fast.

“Fuck”, he moans.

“Gonna reward you so good when we’re home, Baby Girl. Gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop. Gonna pull orgasm after orgasm from you. Until your thighs are soaked with the mess you made, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, and you beg me to stop. Does that sound good to you, Baby?”

You nod eagerly, knowing he was close now because you feel his cock twitching in your

mouth.

“Yeah? You wanna be my good little fuck toy, don’t you? First you want to make daddy happy with a blow job and then you want him to use your pussy. To own you? Want him to punish you for embarrassing him in front of his friends? Fuck”, he moans as he pulled the Bronco into the driveway of your shared home.

As soon as the car stand still his hips thrust up into your face, tears now streaming down your cheek as he came with a deep groan shooting his warm cum into your mouth. You swallow eagerly, lifting your head up.

“Hi, Baby”, Bradley smiles at you.

“Hi, Sailor”, you smile back. “Want to go inside and do all the stuff you promised?”

#tgm #tgm smut #top gun #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw smut #Jake Seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin #javy coyote machado #Javy Machado #bradley bradshaw imagine #natasha trace #Rooster x Reader #Rooster smut

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isnotwhatyourethinking · 4 months ago

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The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 2

Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: thank you so so much for your support, never thought I'd finish chapter 2 so fast but this fic is consuming my body and soul and yea I got a little carried away, hehe

Warnings: all aboard the angst train, no stops. a dash of sexual tension, little language warning

The early morning sun was just beginning to cast its golden rays over Velaris as I approached The Sanctuary. The previous day’s whirlwind of activity still echoed in my mind. I hadn’t slept, consumed not only by Isarn’s deceit but also by thoughts of my mother. She was still captive, her safety hinging on my compliance with Isarn’s cruel bargain.

The agreement was to gather information about the Night Court for him, trading secrets for her well-being. The toll of this pact pressed upon me. Was she safe now? Was she suffering? Isarn's silence was an intentional torment, leaving me to imagine the worst, both about my mother's fate and the guilt of his lies about Rhysand’s court.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped into the cool, tranquil interior. The Sanctuary was already alive with the hum of magic and the soft murmur of healers tending to their patients. Scents of ginger and calendula filled my nose. I inhaled deeply, drawing strength from the soothing atmosphere.

On top of the storm of emotions within me, I had spent the night in restless turmoil, my thoughts entangled with Cassian's emotions. Waves of his distress about the impending war and bursts of frustration echoed through the bond we shared, a constant undercurrent that I couldn’t shut out, and each surge of his concern was like a shout of desperation in the silence of my mind, keeping me on edge until the first light of dawn. My heart ached with the need to comfort him, to lose myself in those warm hazel pools. My mate. The words threatened to escape from my mouth.

C’mon now, Y/N. Get your shit together.

"Someone had a rough night," a voice greeted me warmly, with a hint of worry. I turned to see the Night Court’s most trusted healer, standing a few paces away. Her short, piercing green eyes seemed to miss nothing, and her no-nonsense attitude was evident in her sharp, perceptive gaze. Her bulky frame and tan skin exuded strength and resilience, yet there was a comforting motherly presence about her that put me at ease.

“Good morning, Madja” I replied ignoring her comment, ice mask in place while offering a reserved smile. I couldn’t afford showing any weakness. “I’m ready to get started.” Madja nodded, her mossy eyes still studying me.

“Right. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. Follow me.”

We walked through the bustling hallways, passing rooms filled with patients in various states of recovery. The first floor was dedicated to triage, with an entrance hall where healers registered new arrivals and assessed their conditions, and the triage area was divided into sections for different levels of care, each with multiple cots and egg shell-colored linen screens for privacy.

Emergency treatment rooms were equipped with essential supplies, while a nearby waiting area provided comfort for those awaiting care. Supplies were stored near the loading dock, where deliveries were processed. I steered clear of that area, the mere thought of it sending a chill down my spine. How could the Cauldron be so cruel? The gravity of my secret hit my throat, my eyes burning with panic. I forced the frost in my veins to shake the feeling, and kept walking behind Madja.

The second floor focused on healing and rehabilitation, with patient rooms, healers' stations, physical therapy rooms, and a common room for social interaction and visits. Herbal storage and preparation areas ensured that potions and remedies were readily available. The third floor reminded me a bit of the offices at my own healing center, it housed healers' quarters, administrative offices, training rooms, a meeting room, and a library for study. I was impressed. The Night Court had truly spared no effort in providing every possible resource to aid their people.

I also noticed that despite the severity of the trauma, there was an underlying sense of hope and determination that seemed to permeate every corner of The Sanctuary. As Madja led me into a room where the most seriously injured were being treated, many of them elderly, unable to walk or leave their beds, their faces etched with pain and weariness, my heart ached for them.

“We’ll start with these patients,” Madja said, her voice steady and reassuring. “They need our help the most.” I nodded, steeling myself for the work ahead.

I approached the first patient, an elderly fae female with a deep gash across her abdomen, and I concentrated, letting my magic flow through me: I focused my thoughts and emotions towards my hands with a gentle touch I knew could knit wounds with the chill of winter, mending flesh and bone with a breath of frosty air. Tendrils of crystalline ice seeped from my fingertips, curling around the laceration like delicate vines, and icy filaments dissolved into her flesh, numbing the pain and sealing the tissue with a cold that felt like the first snowfall of the season.

The female sighed in relief, her pain easing as the cut finally closed. I moved on to the next patient, and the next, my powers flowing with a rhythm that was both instinctive and sedative. I could draw out poisons and infections, encasing them in frost before shattering them into harmless shards. With a mere thought, I had reduced their fever to nothingness, the heat of illness vanquished by my frozen gift.

Madja watched me closely as we kept working, her sharp eyes noting every single detail.

“You have a remarkable gift,” she said, her tone impressed. “The way you control your powers… it’s extraordinary.”

"Thank you," I replied, feeling a warmth in my chest at her comment. Somehow, her praise reminded me that the ice of my powers was more soothing than burning, because I knew I was using them to do the right thing, or at least that's what I had told myself in an attempt to release some of the guilt I had been carrying around with me these past few days.

We continued to work side by side, tending to the most serious injuries. There was a quiet camaraderie between us, a mutual respect that made the long hours seem less daunting. By the time the sun was high in the sky, we had treated most of the patients in the room. I was exhausted but satisfied, my powers drained but my heart somewhat lighter. For the first time since arriving in the Night Court, I felt a glimmer of peace.

“Take a break, Y/N.” Madja said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’ve done more than enough for now.”

I nodded, grateful for the respite. As I stepped outside into the courtyard, I let the warmth of the sun wash over me. I took a deep breath, allowing the sun's rays to seep into my bones, slowly melting away the residual frost that always seemed to linger.

The courtyard was quiet, a rare moment of peace in the bustling Sanctuary. I found a secluded bench and sat down, unwrapped the biscuits the House of Wind had so kindly given me for lunch, and closed my eyes, letting the scent of lemon verbena and the sounds of the city wash over me.

The week passed in a blur of activity. Each day was filled with healing sessions, consultations, and endless rounds of the Sanctuary’s various floors. I was always on the move, my powers in constant use as I tended to the wounded and sick. Thank the Mother above, the work kept me busy, too busy to dwell on the gnawing anxiety that lurked beneath the surface.

In the evenings, I would return to my quarters at the House, exhausted but fulfilled. I kept my distance from Cassian, avoiding him as much as possible. The bond was a constant presence, a gilt thread that tugged relentlessly and reminded me of the connection I yearned for, although could not afford to acknowledge. I focused on my duties, on finding a way to secure my mother’s release.

By the end of the week, as I made my way to the office floor of the Sanctuary, I noticed Rhysand and Feyre standing near a window, deep in conversation. They didn’t seem to notice me as I approached, their voices low and serious. I hesitated, then moved closer, keeping my mental shields firmly in place. This was an opportunity to gather information for Isarn, and I couldn't risk passing it up.

“…Amren’s illusions were crucial,” Rhysand was saying. “She wove them into the minds of Hybern’s soldiers, making them believe they were drowning in the Sidra River.”

Feyre nodded, her expression grave. “It was terrifying to watch. Some of the soldiers were convinced they were reliving their worst nightmares. The illusions were so powerful they couldn’t distinguish them from reality.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I listened, my ragged breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Amren. The Ancient One, as she was called in the Winter Court. I had heard tales of her powers, whispered in hushed tones among those who dared to speak of her. Stories of her origins were shrouded in mystery, but the fear and respect she commanded were undeniable. I had never had the opportunity to meet her; she was always locked away in her apartment, immersed in some secret task given to her by the High Lord. Feyre had mentioned it to me once over breakfast, her tone casual but laced with apprehension.

The thought of Amren’s powers, of her ability to manipulate the mind and body so completely, sent a shiver of fear down my spine. What kind of creature could wield such abilities? And what could she possibly be working on, under Rhysand’s orders? This was my chance, I had to relay this information to Isarn. Perhaps it could be used as leverage in my negotiations for my mother’s release. If he knew the extent of Amren's powers and how the Night Court was planning to use them, he might find a way to exploit them, turning them to his advantage. Not that this thought made me happy, but it might release me from my bargain, so I needed to find a way to communicate with Isarn without raising suspicion.

Rhysand continued, his voice grim. “We need to be prepared for anything. Hybern’s forces are unpredictable, and we can’t afford any missteps. I’ll check with her tomorrow to see if we have any updates on the book.”

If the task given to The Ancient One was to work with this book, it had to be relevant to the war, more so to Hybern. Carefully, I retreated down the hallway, my chest pressed with the weight of the new information.

My thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and determination as I made my way back to the healing wards, until I saw the towering, bulky Illyrian walking in from the loading dock. I had to remind myself to breathe, to ignore the thread painfully tightening like a thick rope around my heart. Gods above, what is he doing here?

Cassian spotted me before I could turn away, his hazel eyes lighting up with recognition. “Y/N!” he called out, his voice a mix of surprise and warmth. “How have you been? Settling in okay?”

Fuck, why is he always so nice?

I forced the ice mask onto my face, hiding the turmoil inside.

“General. Can I help you?” I replied swiftly, my tone freezing cold, as I intended.

He frowned slightly at my sharpness but didn’t back down. “Just checking on the supplies,” he said, his voice still friendly. “All good?”

“Fine.” words coming out of my mouth like shards of ice. I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m busy.”

He assessed me with those beautiful eyes, a mesmerizing blend of molten gold and earthy brown, like the first rays of dawn kissing the rugged terrain of a mountain, like a dance of light and shadows, a promise of passion, of unyielding lov—“talk later, General.”

I had kept our interactions short and concise, barely acknowledging each other, despite his friendly attempt to reach out. I couldn’t blame him when his expression hardened, his usual warmth replaced by a flicker of irritation.

“You know,” he said, his tone sharp, “you don’t have to be so damn difficult all the time. I’m just trying to help.”

I kept my gaze steady, refusing to let his words pierce the icy facade. “I don’t need your help,” I replied coolly. “I can handle things on my own.”

His jaw clenched, and he took a step closer. I visibly winced when the shadow of his ominous wings covered the sunlight on my face, his presence looming and intense. His eyes studied mine with predatory intent, slowly lowering to my lips, forcing a smoldering rage to simmer in my inner thighs.

Mother help me.

He must've perceived my inner struggle, his lips slightly curving upwards.

“Fine. But just so you know, pushing everyone away won’t make you any stronger. It just makes you alone.”

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit, that same rage raised to my cheeks but I did not falter. Not now. Not in front of him.

“And why, by the Cauldron, do you care?,” I said, my voice laced with annoyance but barely above a whisper.

Cassian’s eyes softened for a moment, but then he straightened, wings barely shuddering, his demeanor shifting back to that of the disciplined warrior.

“Whatever, sweetheart. Suit yourself.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, closing my eyes to the intoxicating scent of cedarwood that clung to the air. I drew in a long breath, trying to steady my racing heart, but the effort was in vain. His presence lingered, a ghost of warmth in the cold, a reminder of what I was pushing away.

The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders, a burden of truth I didn’t want to acknowledge yet. I watched him disappear from sight, my heart aching with every step he took, while the need for his touch burned under my skin, an itch I couldn’t scratch, a longing I couldn’t deny. Mindlessly, I reached for the silver drop resting on my chest, seeking its familiar weight as a way to anchor myself. The cool metal against my skin offered a semblance of comfort.

I couldn't permit myself to let him in and no matter how much it hurt, I had to stay focused, strong.

Words of a fool, I thought.

When I finally returned to my quarters that evening, I was too exhausted to think. I collapsed onto my bed, my mind spinning with worry and fear, as I looked out the tall window, admiring the sight of Velaris from my room.

And what a view that was: the streets were alive with what felt like distant laughter, and the soft glow of faelights were casting a warm, inviting aura over the city, making me sigh with heaviness in my heart, wishing I could walk those streets without a care, to feel the freedom and joy that Velaris offered its residents. Yes, the Winter Court was my home, but somehow the thought of strolling through the city of Starlight unburdened by the weight of my mission, my mother’s arm interlaced with mine, her laughter mixing with the sounds of locals, felt like a dream. A fantasy. The vision brought a bittersweet comfort, a reminder of what I was fighting for.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I felt myself slowly blinking, each blink longer than the last.

I gathered the last bit of strength in me and I wished, I wished to the stars for a way out of the bargain with Isarn, for a way to help both the Winter Court and the Night Court in the looming war, despite Isarn’s selfish motives.

Tomorrow, I would go back to the Winter Court using the excuse of fulfilling my unattended duties there. The thought of facing the cruel fae responsible for my cursed fate filled me with dread, nevertheless I knew it was necessary. I had intel to relay, to see if it could be used as leverage for my mother's release. The risks were high, but the stakes were higher.

My vision blurred as I struggled to keep my eyes open, the comforting darkness of sleep beckoning me. As I drifted off, I prayed one last time to the Mother for the strength to continue, for the courage to see this mission through, and for the wisdom to find a way to protect those I loved.

Chapter 3

taglist:

@bravo-delta-eccho @yamisuke @randomperson1234sblog @anxious-cactus @lilah-asteria

dividers by @estrelinha-s

#cassian x reader #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fan fic #heal me #acomaf #acofas #acowar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #bat boys #cassian x you #winter court #winter court acotar

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