#no actual interrogation or torture happens

[liveinfarbe]

Adar and Galadriel reminiscing about their Beleriand days…

These are clips from episode 4 and 7 of season 1. Notice the knife/dagger-parallel.

I've been researching the Silmarillion a little bit, because I think it gives hints about time and place in Adar's flashback account. This got lengthy. I write about the questionable Moriondor assumption by Galadriel and the esteem for flowers, blossoms, willows, glades in the lives of Galadriel and Celeborn, in Beleriand and beyond, and a possible path for hope, forgiveness and growth after trauma, that would lie in a dark Celeborn meets dark Galadriel story: Adar informs Arondir that he's been young in Beleriand once and used to walk down the banks of the Sirion river for miles and miles. He noticed sage blossoms, apparently liked the view, because it left a lasting impression. What I get from this (given the cosmology of that world is actual history and not just mythical) is that it must've happened after the sun and the moon appeared and pulled Middle-Earth out of its darkness, or else there wouldn’t be miles of sage blossoming. It thrives in full sunlight. This puts the account at the end of the First Age, after the Years of the Trees. Interestingly, this is after the "creation" of the Orcs by Morgoth.

Whatever bond and similarity Adar has with the Uruks, he’s apparently not one of those Moriondor that Galadriel talked about to him. I assume the Moriondor concept reflects Tolkien’s idea (he had several) that elves were captured by Morgoth after their awakening in Cuiviénen under the starlight and before Oromë found them and then got corrupted and twisted and thus became the first Uruks. While Adar shares certain physical traits with them, he can’t be one of those first Uruks, because 1.) he lived far in the West, in Beleriand, 2.) the sun had risen, 3.) he’s lived among elves that spoke Sindarin and Quenya, since he speaks it too and not some Avari language, though he could've learned all that in Angband during idle hours, I don't know, he learned black speech too. Anyway, the first mentions of Orcs roaming Beleriand is in Y.T. (Years of the Trees) 1330, but Melkor (at this point in time he's not yet given the name Morgoth by Fëanor) is incarcerated in Valinor. Sauron is in Beleriand though, hiding out in Angband, waiting for Melkor's return, "breeding" Orcs apparently, because their numbers grow and they "roam" Beleriand. This is 200 Valian years before the sun. I'm no loremaster, but I know this is a long time. At this point and later, Adar is still, as he describes himself, young. So Orcs were breathing living creatures before that elf-man became Adar. "Young" I see as meaning before he got captured and tortured and then brainwashed by Sauron as part of the “13 of us” (ep. 2x2).

So something doesn't add up, and Adar implies that in his interaction with Arondir in ep. 1x4. Are the tales of Moriondor a widely spread myth created by Elves, since all accounts about Orcs mostly stem from Elvish chroniclers? Maybe this is what Adar hints at. He says to Arondir

“You have been told many lies. Some run so deep even the rocks and roots believe them. To untangle it all would all but require the creation of a new world.”

He thinks only gods can do that, and he ain’t one…yet. Unlike Morgoth who raised mountains, or other Valar whose wrath sank a whole landmass like Beleriand, and later Númenor. He's just doing what he must, realizing Morgoth's terraforming plan and resettling the Uruks so they can live freely.

The "many lies" that he mentions are reflected in the things that Galadriel - who’s famous as "the scourge of the Orcs", even in Númenor - says to him when she interrogates him in episode 1x6. She’s full of hate and delivers a truly genocidal speech to him that shocks herself in the aftermath. (She acknowledges that somewhat self-critically to Theo in ep. 1x7, and it might be one of the reasons she rejects Sauron's offer later)

The truth about Adar's origin story isn't yet revealed. I think it will be, because the writers put some effort in it, dropped cues and hints in excellent dialogue and made him a multilayered character. Finally, let’s come back to the flowers and blossom mentions in the clips above because they could very nicely tie back to Galadriel and Celeborn in Beleriand and beyond. Adar says he “went down that river once”. Let’s see, if he, for example, came from Doriath and went down the Sirion towards its mouth and saw a lush amount of flowers blossom, he could have come through a region called Nan-Tathren or Tarsarinan that is literally called Valley of the willows. Possibly the home to Galadriel’s “glades of flowers” she danced in.

Why would she dance there and not in Doriath? I don't know, but there's a clear hint that she was in that region and even made meaningful personal connections there. With Ents. And Celeborn, too. Tarsarinan, Valley of the willows, means something to the couple and Treebard, as mentioned in a passage in The Lord of the Rings. The memories of Celeborn, Galadriel and Treebard of that place are intimately entangled.

Then Treebeard said farewell to each of them in turn, and he bowed three times slowly and with great reverence to Celeborn and Galadriel. ‘It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone, A vanimar, vanimálion nostari!’ he said. 'It is sad that we should meet only thus at the ending. For the world is changing: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air. I do not think we shall meet again.' And Celeborn said: 'I do not know, Eldest.' But Galadriel said: 'Not in Middle-earth, nor until the lands that lie under the wave are lifted up again. Then in the willow-meads of Tasarinan we may meet in the Spring. Farewell!

“Many Partings” - The Return Of The King - LOTR - J.R.R. Tolkien

Okay… 1.) Treebard's “It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone” sounds a lot like Adar’s words to Arondir "even the rocks and the roots believe them", 2.) A vanimar, vanimálion nostari! is translated as "Oh, beautiful ones, parents of beautiful children"

That last point reminds of Adar's relationship to the Uruks and the rhetoric surrounding it: Adar whose name translates as "father" calls the Uruks "my children", "my sons and daughters", main difference is that they’re not that beautiful, neither is he — but that lies in the eye of the beholder. Does Adar imply the propaganda about Uruks is so pervading that even the eldest Ents believe them? Possibly his old friend Treebard… ?

I mean he's certainly wreaked havoc in the woods, forced the felling of trees, displaying not much respect for the Ents. On the other hand, Adar is shown planting Alfirin seeds, that grow into flowers. He's still very Elvish, full of respect and longing for "new life, in defiance of death".

Finally… Lothlórien, Galadriel and Celeborn's later safe space, is literally meaning "Lórien of the Blossom". Treebard calls it "Dreamflower".

With all that cherishing of flowers - I think even his chain mail shirt displays flowery ornaments - could Adar be Celeborn in a rather depressing and long-lasting dark phase of his life in ROP? Explaining where he’s been all that time since she last mocked him as a “silver clam”? And if he is not, wouldn’t that be a really good story if he was? Adar doing the work could be an arc about hope and the possibility of healing and changing — it’s what Galadriel needs, too, in the long run.

At this point she’s confused and hurting after the betrayal by Sauron, because she liked him more than anyone in ages, but also because she had to witness herself being unreliable and, frankly, unwise. Yes, she’s vindicated for having always been right about Sauron, but the way she went about it fills her with shame, it’s gnawing at her, not primarily because of wounded pride, I believe, but out of compassion for the victims of her actions. Not unlike Míriel after her return to Númenor. It begs the question to them both if it was all needless, if there really is a greater good in what's unfolding now? At this point in the narrative, the Númenorian intervention that Galadriel pressed for must feel like a Pyrrhic victory with grave consequences and implications for the future of Middle-Earth as well as Númenor. It has caused immense trouble and pain already to many other people that Galadriel gave Sauron a clap on the back and an army. She still has to fully confront herself about that, she's still vulnerable to the darkness inside her, because she's hurting. She has Elrond to help and guard her, but other than that, who's there for her? I mean, in the end she has to accept that it's not her who can slay Sauron, she needs to come to that understanding. It's a battle within herself she hasn't yet had the courage to take up because she still can't face her lingering grief at this point in any other way than turning it into anger.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

same energy

[wanghedi]

Started watching the glory. This is such a depressing dinner time ipad kid moment . God. Maybe i should go back to watching the hag idol produce show

[sarah-yyy]

Jie jie, what is The Double about?

hahahahahaha i was waiting for someone to ask!! mr r has bailed on me at work again and bossman has the man flu so it's just. me at the office today. working my ass off for partners who are trying to Kill Me™.

what: period cdrama // completed // 40 eps, roughly 45 mins each where: youku (standard disclaimer that i don’t watch with subs so i don’t speak to the quality of eng subs) // i think viki is picking this up?

this is xue fangfei. daughter of a small town magistrate. married a poor scholar for love against the wishes of her dad. this turns out to be a bad, bad, bad decision because he ends up burying her alive in the mountains sometime post-marriage. :)

this all happens in like ep 1, we're just getting started.

xff ends up being rescued by jiang li, who is the prime minister's kinda-sorta-exiled daughter. jl has been stuck in a kinda-sorta-nunnery in the mountains for the past 10 years because of her evil stepmother.

i'll skip past all the other bits because there is a bit of a backstory about what happened to jl, but long story short!! jl dies (kinda-sorta-because of xff). xff decides to get justice for both herself and jl. her plan is:

1. become jiang li 2. go back to the capital 3. ?????? 4. profit make everyone pay

this is xiao heng a.k.a. su-guogong (the translation is duke su but it sounds weird to me so i'm going to stick with su-guogong). he chances upon xff while he's trying to catch a criminal.

xff, who is in the process of executing her Escape Plan, decides eh, any way to escape will do and lets s-gg arrest her to take her back to the capital for interrogation.

(yes, this is wang xingyue who played zhang zhe in kunning palace. yes he looks a++++++ in this show. i am obsessed.)

side bar, counsels, for a bit of very important information -

su-guogong recognises xue fangfei!! he knows 100% that she is not jiang li and that she is going to cause some chaos. he is Committed™ to watching this drama play out.

ANYWAY. this is the loose premise of the show. it's been fun to watch, and i'm enjoying this a lot!! why should you watch the show?

wang xingyue looks so good in this!! the fans? the capes?? i am obsessed!! everyone in the costumes department deserves a raise.

the story moves quickly and doesn't really drag on. so far, it's been nothing complicated and interesting to watch - i wouldn't say this is a plot-heavy show, just a v good 宅斗 for now, but i'm only like 10 eps in.

the torture my ex-husband who murdered me by showing up in front of him and saying all the right things to remind him of me and the fact that he killed me is so good - normally when this happens, the person looks nothing like their former self, but!! xff's looks haven't changed!! so she's just out here going - hi i am jiang li now and oh btw do you know how cold it is in the mountains where you killed me :)

look i'm......intrigued by this whole shen yurong (ex-husband) and the zhang-gongzhu storyline. i want to see how this whole thing plays out!!

eta: quick post-watch thoughts (may contain spoilers)

a v enjoyable drama!! this is a 爽剧 for reals, like all the plot points get wrapped up and we get a few cute snippets into their happily ever after!! i'm a bit :/ about the way the last few scenes were done in ep 40 (the side character deaths??? extremely unnecessary 🙄🤬 actually the whole war scene was unnecessary but i'm not complaining too much because it gave us That Scene), tbh the whole thing looked more OE leaning BE than HE to me, so the 番外 was quite important to me!! glad we got that!!

shen yurong and zhang-gongzhu both turned out to be so much more interesting than i thought!! a+++ villains, v well-written, and both actors played them beautifully 👏🏼

still an 8.5/10 rec tbh, started strong and held my interest the entire way through

[vanilladove]

❤︎ ₊ ⊹ get free (2/3)

pic creds luvpngs | gif creds akashi-tetsuki

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: asylum patient!nikolai x asylum attendant!fem!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: smut w/ plot + some dark elements; 18+ only pls!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: smut/nsfw, slight mentions of torture + drugging, manipulation, violence/abuse, unhealthy relationships, infidelity (mutual😋), slightly yandere!delulu!mean! :( nikolai, dubious consent

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ summary: your asylum patient has been taken in for questioning, and you learn a shocking fact. however, after an emergency call, you're left alone with nikolai again. dangerous? yes. but even more, tempting... ˚₊‧꒰ა read pt 1 & pt 3 & bonus (bad ending) ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ word count: 7.1k

His heterochromatic eyes were boring into your soul.

Well, not really. It wasn't like he could see you through the one-way privacy glass of the interrogation room, even though you could still see every expression on your patient's face.

Still clutching his book, you sat next to the security guard on a bench outside the room. You could feel the pit in your stomach get deeper with each minute, anxiously waiting for the boss to arrive.

We were definitely caught. What's going to happen now? To me? To Niko--

"Sorry for the wait. I hope it wasn't too long, dear." You looked up shakily as you heard a familiar sigh from your husband.

You were just about to confess everything then and there until you looked up at his face, which was surprisingly calm and almost...concerned? Your husband reached down to hold your hand, "He didn't hurt you, did he? I can't believe you had to watch over a monster like that. Seriously, who would've known Gogol would put on a whole act. I--" You tuned out his words after that, completely confused. What was he rambling on about? Was Nikolai actually right about the camera blind spot?

Calm down. Just act oblivious.

"Wha-what are you talking about? What's going on?" You questioned, trying not to sound suspicious. Your partner stopped his rant, shooting a quick look at the guard, who raised his eyebrows and got up to leave the leather bench. Your husband took a seat next to you, clasping his hands together and looking down at the floor.

"For five weeks, we've been finding pills randomly in different trash cans throughout the facility. I thought it was an accident at first, but then I remembered that Gogol was admitted five weeks ago, and the pills that were thrown away were the same ones being administered to him."

"So? Was it really necessary to do all this? We've dealt with uncooperative patients before." You glanced back at the glass screen, jumping a bit when you saw Nikolai up against the glass, his hands pressed on the surface and gazing at you intensely. He had an unnerving smile on his face and was waving at you like a child. You shivered lightly, trying not to scream out in shock, causing your husband to look up in your direction.

"Tch. That wasn't all; there was this letter, too." He said, unfolding a piece of paper and handing it to you, roughly turning your head around--away from Nikolai--and hitting the glass with a glare.

You stared at the letter confusedly, looking at the mix of Russian, Ukrainian, and some sort of secret code. "What's this supposed to mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. Translators couldn't decode it at all. All they made out was that it was addressed to a 'Dos' and mentioned the facility, someone named 'Dove', and 'escaping'". Your eyes widened at that. Nikolai wrote a letter to someone? But when? Who were "Dos" and "Dove"? Wait, was that supposed to be...

Your husband standing up interrupted your thoughts. "Anyways, I'm going to get him to fess up. He's clearly plotting something. Can't trust a global terrorist." He gripped your hand tightly, unlocking the door and dragging you into the interrogation room, several guards trailing in behind you.

Nikolai gazed up excitedly at you once you walked in, only to be held back by several guards and restrained by a strap harness. Upon noticing that, your husband stepped in front of you--a measly attempt at covering you from Nikolai's gaze--and spoke sternly. The jester frowned in response.

"Gogol, do you want to explain why you've been throwing away your prescriptions across the facility?" Nikolai only tilted his head cutely to the side, trying to move to see you.

"My meds? Well, it's quite obvious, actually," he smiled tauntingly, "I don't need them. I'm perfectly sane. Ask your wife if you don't believe me." The boss clenched his fists at that and signaled for the guards to point their guns at Nikolai's head, making him laugh mockingly.

"Fucking freak. You're far from it..." Your husband muttered under his breath, reaching for the letter in his lab coat and unrolling it in front of Nikolai, whose eyes lit up upon seeing it. "We found this in the mailing room. Care to translate it? Who're 'Dos' and 'Dove'? Two of your criminal accomplices? And you mentioned 'escaping'? Hah. You don't really think you could leave one of the world's most secured facilities, do you?"

You cringed at that. You could tell he was trying to intimidate Nikolai, but it clearly wasn't working; the jester only yawned boredly in response.

Sighing, Nikolai answered, "Dos is a dear friend of mine--no, maybe my only one--and Dove..." he paused to stare intensely into your fleeting eyes, "Dove is my lover. I want to escape with her." His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his comment, putting together that "Dove" was you. Making you Kolya's...lover? You blushed at that, not hearing your husband's angry scream or seeing him stomp up to Nikolai and grab his shirt roughly, shaking him and demanding to know the content of the letter.

"Hmmmm....what my letter says? Who knows? I guess I must have wrote it in a frenzy, y'know, because I'm crazy and deranged." Nikolai said, the old dark, unreadable look in his eyes. "Say, can I have lunch first? I'm hungry and can't think straight."

Your husband lost it at that, winding up and punching Nikolai across the face, shocking the guards. Now back to the present, you ran to Nikolai, pulling your spouse back and yelling at him.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing? Losing your cool and punching a patient? Just let it g--"

CRASH!

A sharp pain hit your stomach and lower back as you felt a blow to your front, causing you to collide with a chair behind you. You wheezed from the impact, looking up to see your husband breathing raggedly, his hands coiled into fists, and Nikolai with widened eyes full of concern.

"Dove!" Nikolai yelled out, regretting it instantly when your husband glared at him; the pieces clicking in his head. The security guard from the library rushed to your side, helping you up and guiding you out of the room. You tried to resist, but it was hard with your head throbbing from banging against the chair. All you could hear faintly before being dragged out was your husband threatening Nikolai more for answers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You sat with an ice pack on the bench outside, head still spinning. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you peaked into the glass window. However, before you could look in, a bright, blinding light flashed, followed by a maniacal laugh from…Nikolai?

Electroshock treatment. Were they trying to get a confession out of him?

You could only cover your ears as the laughter got louder, mixed in with his occasional tortuous screams and angry shouts from your husband. Pressing yourself further into the bench and wall, the strong scent of artificial peony attacked your senses, forcing you to look up and meet Lacey's eyes. What was she doing here? Did she just come out of the interrogation room?

"Miss, I have some news for you," You peaked your head out of your arm enclosure, uncovering your ears and looking at her, "You're off for tomorrow. Gogol's been declared a dangerous threat, so he's going to be handed off to the boss and security. You'll be seeing your normal patients again, so please take the time in between off. I'm sure today was traumatizing for you." Lacey held your hand, stroking it like she was trying to console you. You could see the forced pity in her eyes; she was just one of your husband's loyal subordinates, after all. Knowing it was fake, you stood up and slapped her hand away, wobbling from your balance being thrown off.

"Thanks, Lacey. I'll try to relax a little." You turned away before pausing, feeling lightheaded, “You wouldn’t mind walking me to my office, would you? I need to grab my stuff first.” Lacey nodded, throwing your arm around her shoulder and helping you walk unsteadily towards your office. Even though the noises of torture and occasional bright flashes in the background made your stomach churn, and you really just wanted to run back and save Nikolai, you could barely stand up straight in your current state. You were going to process your thoughts, get an ice pack and some painkillers, and wait it out away from the scene.

You couldn’t leave yet. You had to see Nikolai one more time before you left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It had been eight hours since the interrogation room incident. Luckily the painkillers had knocked you out, so you'd just woken up from a peaceful nap on your office couch. Fixing up your hair and appearance, you picked up your phone and squinted from the lighting.

11:47 PM.

Everyone except for security had gone home for the night. You checked your notifications but saw nothing from your husband. No sort of apology, check-in, or questioning to ask you why you weren't home yet. What could you really expect, though? This was the man who'd just hit you at work in front of others. Feeling sick from remembering the day's events, you forced your phone back into your dress pocket and walked out of your office. Moving cautiously to not get caught, you headed towards the white ward.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Scanning your key slowly, you walked into Nikolai's room. There weren't any guards present, likely since they assumed he'd been immobilized from the electroshock treatment--there was no doubt the boss had gone overboard with his torture.

After you quietly shut the door behind you, you made your way to the bed carefully, reaching around in the dark room. Your hand finally found the night lamp on the dresser, reaching around to find the switch. Chills ran down your spine as you felt cold fingers brush against your hand and lead you to it. The dim light turned on and illuminated the figure next to you.

"Dove? You came back for me?"

You almost jumped back after hearing Nikolai's hoarse voice. The warm light enveloped him, the shadows reflecting off the curves of his face and intensifying his gaze. He was sitting up properly, almost like he hadn't been tortured a few hours ago and this was some regular midnight visit. Like he'd been expecting you.

"N-Nikolai...Wha--I--I came to check on you." Nikolai's eyes widened at that, and he blushed with a small smile on his face.

"Ahhhh, that so? Well, I still feel like shit." Nikolai winced in pain as he slowly sank back down into the bed, laying down and turning to the side to face you. The light was fully on him now, and you could see some light bruises on his face from where he'd been punched and roughly handled. The sight made you frown. What a shame his pretty face had been wounded, by your coworkers nonetheless. You knew it wasn't your fault, but you felt like you had to apologize.

You pulled up a stool next to the bed and sat down awkwardly. Nikolai cut you off as you were about to open your mouth, reading your intentions. "Don't say sorry, myla. Besides, this was probably divine punishment for my past actions. Sadists get punished by sadists, I guess? Not that I care much about or regret what I've done". His green eye glowed after he said that, but he quickly perked up after seeing your semi-horrified, semi-concerned face. "It was fun though, really. Nothing I haven't gone through before..." He tried to laugh a bit but quickly cringed again from the soreness.

Instinctively, you reached out but quickly pulled your hand away after remembering why you came in the first place. Reaching into your coat pocket, you pulled out The Overcoat, "I brought your book. So you don't get too bored." You smiled sadly to yourself, "I don't know if we can be seen together much anymore. I though this would help."

Nikolai bitterly laughed at that, the situation sinking in. "You came all this way to give me my book...You're silly, ptashka. I can't even read it." One glance at him confirmed his statement: he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Read it to me," he said huskily, reaching one of his hands out and stroking your cheek, "Stay here and read to me until I fall asleep. Unless you'd rather sleep next to me, hehe~" Nikolai teased, outlining your lips with his thumb. The action caused you to blush.

"N-no--I'll read to you..." you stammered, bringing his hand down to your lap and opening the book. He giggled seeing your flustered reaction and with some of the little strength he had left, he laced his fingers with yours and gazed at you lovingly.

You smiled warmly at him, opening the book and starting, "In the department of -- but it is better not to mention the department. There is nothing more irritable than departs, regiments, courts of justice, and, in a world, every branch of public service. Each individual attached to them nowadays thinks all society insulted in his person..."

You'd gotten twenty pages in before Nikolai finally dozed off; you could tell by the way his grip on your hand slacked up. You closed the book and moved his hand back to the bed slowly, careful not to awaken him. The lamp rays cast a warm glow on Nikolai, softening up his tense features. His fluffy bangs fell across his face, almost making you laugh because of how perfect and prince-like he looked--just like the first time you saw him.

You pulled the covers over him, brushing away his bangs. You remembered the library suddenly and how you owed him a kiss. Now wouldn't be a bad time, would it? Leaning into him, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead, moving down to the bruises on his cheeks and lower jaw. He was still resting peacefully by the time you were close to his lips. You blushed suddenly, feeling nervous. All you could muster was a small, quick peck on his lips before pulling away.

"Goodnight, Kolya." You whispered before getting up from the stool, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was almost 2:00 AM by the time you got home. The day had truly worn you out, both physically and mentally. You were surprised that you and your husband's shared car was still in the parking lot by the time you left. To be honest, you were too tired to be concerned with who he'd gotten a ride with or if he'd actually meant to leave; you were also secretly grateful to not spot his shoes or coat anywhere, meaning he wasn't home and you had the bedroom to yourself.

Groggily making your way to the bathroom, you took a warm shower to clean yourself off, changed into a satin pajama set, and tucked yourself into bed. Your head was still spinning and the pain in the lower half of your body had resumed, making you need painkillers again. You recalled your husband telling you that he kept some in the nightstand dressers. Opening the lower drawer and reaching in, you were hit with the familiar nauseating smell of peony perfume and felt something...thin and silky?

In a confused daze, you peaked over and found a neon green G-string along with a small envelope with red hearts drawn all over it. You dropped the underwear in disgust and felt a pit in your stomach. Already having a strong hunch of what was going on, you opened the note, cringing when you saw a lipstick mark on it:

Same time, same place next week? Never took you for the type of man who could be adventurous and cheat;) Can't blame you, though. Your wife is booooringggggg. ~L ♡

Tears fell down your face as you threw the note back into the drawer and slammed it shut, eliminating the scent of Lacey's perfume. Even though you couldn't be surprised about your husband cheating, it felt like the final blow to a series of disastrous events.

Fatigue creeping up on you, all you could do was pass out from the mix of emotions.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had just finished brunch in the morning when you'd received a call from the asylum. Wanting nothing more than to ignore it and try to enjoy your day off, you waited until the last ring to pick up. After all, it could be an---

"Miss? Please, I know it's your day off, but---I don't know what's going on--please, we need you now...this is the worst--" you recognized the security guard's voice on the other line frantically speaking among shuffling and siren noises in the background.

Concerned, you spoke, "Hello? What's going on over there? Explain it me calmly."

The guard on the line sighed deeply, probably as a way to steady himself, "R-Right. It's Gogol," your eyes perked up at that, "He--God--He's out of control. He's been injuring staff left and right." He paused again, "That psycho has taken out half the squad of armed guards and put ten attendants on stretchers in an hour. That blonde girl got it pretty bad...she's knocked out with a black eye and a concussion."

"What? No way" You said in complete disbelief, trying to process everything.

"Yeah. Anyways, we have him temporarily detained until we can get special forces to come in. If you could get here ASAP to calm him down, we'd need that. Of course, we'd pay you extra, and--" The guard was practically yelling at this point, rambling on as you heard the commotion in the back getting louder. Reality hit you again, forcing you to realize the gravity of the situation. Not to mention, what was up with Nikolai? You couldn't believe he'd dwindled down the asylum's forces right after being tortured, or that he'd suddenly gone on a rampage after being relatively well-behaved and compliant. Even though the last place you wanted to be was work, you obliged.

"I'll be in soon, give me fifteen minutes."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Where is he?" You asked, panting since you were out of breath from running alongside the security guard that called you.

"The bath house. Everything was normal until he was in for his scheduled bath and an attendant was helping him. It was the new girl with blonde hair," He looked back at you to make sure you were still behind him, "She tried to help him undress since he was injured, but he reacted badly and started full on beating her up. She already had a black eye and a concussion by the time the guards got to her."

That was definitely Lacey. You weren't sure how to feel about her situation with the new information that's just come to light, but you quickly shook off the smug grin that you could feel forming on your face and kept running behind the guard.

"After that, some other attendants rushed to help her out, but they weren't spared either. When the guards came in to detain him, he went on a total rampage, even stealing a baton and taser off of a guard and clearing the response team."

You were shocked at that. Of course he was a notoriously cruel and sly criminal, but to think he'd made light work of so many people that easily...

"What's the situation now?"

"Well, several ambulances later, we finally got him under control by tranquilizing him and restraining him with handcuffs, so he should be incapacitated for now. What a monster, doing all that like he wasn't electrocuted yesterday." The guard stopped suddenly, making you almost bump into him. He took his access card out and scanned it. "We're here, miss," he started to open the door before facing you, "I'll be in there with you in case anything bad happens, but just try to keep him under control until backup comes in. Apparently, they're experiencing delays, now of all times..."

You nodded and followed the guard in, looking around the bathing room. Rather than the usual communal showers, a special isolated bath house was reserved for high threat patients. The space itself wasn't too extravagant, with white and black tiled floors and a singular bath tub in the middle of the otherwise large, light-filled room. You walked towards the center and spotted Nikolai inside of the tub, his tall figure peaking out from the edge. His hands were cuffed to the faucet, and he appeared disheveled: hair messy, shirt unbuttoned and in boxers, and knuckles discolored, likely from fighting. His previous bruises did look like they'd lightened up a bit, though.

"Nikolai, it's me." You started, sitting down a few feet away from the tub. You heard a faint groan come from him in response, meaning he was still conscious. The guard stood ten feet away from you, trying to gauge the situation in case your ex-patient tried to attack you. You took a deep breath, "I heard about what you did. I can't--I don't understand it or the meaning of this at all. Why can't you just behave for once? Why do you always have to be so unpredictable and difficult?"

Squinting, he looked up at you sadly, nearly making you blurt out an apology. "Dove...can't hear...close--come closer..." Nikolai muttered weakly, resisting slightly against the cuffs to try and reach out to you. You looked at the guard who gave you a reassuring nod and stepped closer to the tub. You took off your lab coat, suddenly feeling conscious of what you were wearing underneath. You didn't have any time to change before rushing in, so you were just wearing a short pair of biker shorts and a matching tank top--the set you were planning to wear to the workout class you were going to attend on your day off. You felt exposed as you hesitantly made your way into the tub, sitting closer to Nikolai. "Bathe me." He teased, his eyes crinkling up a bit when he felt your presence next to him.

You opened your mouth to respond but got cut off by the beeping of the guard's radio followed by frantic noises. His eyes widened and he looked back at you, “Miss, I’m sorry but there’s been a situation,” you shot him a concerned look, “A mass fight has broken out in the cafeteria…Half of the patients are beating each other and staff up, and the other half are throwing their guts up. We think someone might’ve poisoned or drugged the food.” The guard exhaled frustratedly and was anxiously tapping his foot on the ground, “I hate to say it, but I need to go help suppress the whole commotion. Will you be alright?”

You looked down at Nikolai, who still appeared to be weak and under the tranquilizer’s effects. There was also another shot of tranquilizer on the floor next to the tub—in case of an emergency. You nodded affirmatively, and the guard slowly walked out, the pang of the closed door echoing off the walls. The bath house went silent as you two were left all alone.

The next thing you heard was the sound of breaking metal as a strong--too strong for just being tranquilized--pair of arms wrapped around you. You yelped as Nikolai pulled you into his lap, arms encasing your waist--effectively trapping you--and nuzzled into your chest, the handcuffs landing away on the tiled floor. He muttered something about how you smelled like coffee and vanilla.

"Kol!--" You protested, struggling against Nikolai's strong arms to break free. You couldn't though, slightly scaring you and adding to your overall confusion. Where was this sudden strength coming from? Should you even be surprised?

Nikolai only cruelly laughed at your attempts to escape his hold, pressing you harder against his body until you finally went limp and gave in. "What's wrong, dove? Aren't you happy to see me? You're wearing less clothes this time, too~" He cooed playfully, loosening his grip on you enough to get his face out of your breasts; all of his nuzzling had pulled down your tank top to expose your cleavage.

You blushed and put your hands on his shoulders to gain some distance. "That's not--I--" you couldn't speak straight, not sure where to start and how or if you should even explain the events of last night to Nikolai. "My husband--he--"

"Cheated on you? With the blonde bob girl? Yeah, I know. They always do it in the storage closet." The bluntness in Nikolai's voice shocked you. Had everyone literally known about this but you? Did he and Lacey have to be that obvious? Nikolai started playing with the ends of your tank top, "That's why I beat that annoying harlot up. She was faking nice all day and kept touching me all seductively," he ran his hands up and down your waist, using his fingers to slowly pull up your top and drag down your shorts like he was trying to reenact the scenario.

"H-Hey..." You stammered, blushing at his advances. Nikolai only giggled as he brought your hands up to his face and kissed them.

"I hate girls like that, you know? I only have eyes for you, myla." He stared into your eyes for a minute--unbeknownst to you, waiting for a reciprocated response--before letting go of your hands and sighing disappointedly.

"Quiz time!", Nikolai started, lightly slapping your hips and sitting up straight, startling you, "Will Dove entertain me or stay here while I beat up the boss then escape?"

"What?" You looked confusedly at Nikolai, "Entertain you? What are you talking about?" A pit formed in your stomach; you had a bad feeling about this.

A smirk appeared on Nikolai's face, "Well, you are just here to keep me occupied until backup arrives, aren't you?" He waved his hands at you, "I broke free from my handcuffs, so technically I can leave whenever I want. I know you won't stop me."

His taunt made you sneer, but you knew deep down he was right. It wasn't even about strength, you didn't want to stop him either. "I can't let you leave, though. What do you want?"

"You're really bad at quizzes, ptashka. You're supposed to guess, not ask me." Nikolai leaned back into your chest. "Hmmm...bathe me." He suggested, causing your face to heat up.

"But--" You objected, getting cut off by Nikolai looking towards the exit door and starting to get up. "Wait!" You pushed him back down and glared into his mocking eyes, "I'll do it. Just--just stay here...with me." The last part piqued Nikolai's interest as his attention went back to you and his smug look returned.

You shakily reached for the faucet to turn the water on before Nikolai pulled your hand back. "Not yet, dove. We can't bathe with clothes on. Remove them all first." His warned, dark eyes and an unreadable expression back on his face.

You gulped, "R-right..." His white button-up was already open, so sliding it off Nikolai's broad shoulders was easy. You couldn't peel your eyes off of his toned chest. You couldn't believe that loose uniform and his lanky frame were hiding a perfectly chiseled six pack all this time.

Nikolai laughed seeing you admire him, "Like what you see, pryntsesa? Keep going down, it gets better~" He teased, moving your hands down to the waistband of his boxers. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you pulled them down. Vision flashing, you grabbed a soap bar from the ledge of the tub and turned the faucet on, burying your face into Nikolai's neck and closing your eyes, eliciting a subtle whine from him.

"What's wrong, dove? Too embarrassed to look?" Embarrassed was an understatement. You hadn't been intimate in so long, and now you were getting naked with your ex-patient that you'd been in charge of detaining. You were blushing like it was your first time. Nikolai giggled at your reaction; he was annoyed at first that you'd stopped but was pleased by your flustered state. "Cute. Now look up." He brought your face up to his, but you put your hands on his chest to stop him, hesitating to continue.

"Come on, now. Where's the confidence from when you kissed me? Y'know, while I was sleeping." You froze in place from that, allowing Nikolai to move your hands away and bring you close again. You were still stunned, so he continued, "You didn't know I was awake, did you? If I wasn't under all those drugs, I would've--"

"I'll do it, Nikolai. So please, stop talking..." You whispered out, silencing him with a kiss. Nikolai obliged, kissing you back obsessively and pulling you deeper. You flinched a bit when you felt him tugging off your biker shorts, pressing you near his exposed length. He broke away from the kiss, cheeks lightly pink as he feverishly pulled your tank top off and you complied.

Intimate silence between you, you picked up the soap bar and slowly started lathering up his upper body, sensually gliding your hands over his firm abs. He panted lightly from your touch, still taken aback by your sudden forward gesture. You weren't unscathed either, eyes averted to the bubbly translucent water and a rose hue across your face. "Dove," he started needily, "Wash lower". He took a hold of your hand, letting the soap sink, and moved it down under the sudsy bathwater to his hardened member.

You looked away ashamedly as your fingers slid down and rested at the base. He was big. Were you really going to--

"Dove", his voice was slightly threatening as he grabbed your face with one hand, "Look at me and do it properly." He cupped his other hand over yours and starting lightly stroking up and down, making you even more aware of his length.

"I-I'm embarrassed..." You said, trailing off and struggling to look into his hazy eyes as your movements got weaker. Nikolai's smile turned down after that, and his glare burned into you.

"Why, you've never done this with your husband?" He sheepishly grinned as his hands crept down your sides before stopping, "The one who loves you so much and gave you these love marks?" His face went dark again before squeezing the bruises along your waist, hard enough to make you wince in pain. He only smiled happily from your reaction, kneading into your skin more as he continued, "I would never hurt you like that, dove...Not unless you wanted me to." He moved closer to you and whispered in your ear, "You don't want me to hurt you now, do you? That's why you'll listen to me, right?"

Your eyes burned a bit, tears almost forming as you realized how powerless you were in this situation; he could always kill you. "No..." You quickly shook your head as your hand went under the water again to pump his dick. Nikolai heaved upon feeling your fingers wrapped around him again and pulled you in again for a softer kiss, hands now affectionately caressing your body, trying to comfort you for being a bit too cruel.

He groaned into your mouth after you started stroking at a faster pace, bringing your fingers up to play with his tip as you squeezed tighter on the way down. Your kisses became weaker as you could feel his pre-cum making his shaft more slippery. Nikolai broke away from the kiss, breath hitching as you squeezed his sensitive parts tighter. "S-Shit, dove..." He muttered out, momentarily relaxing his head and shutting his eyes, making you could feel his cock get warmer as more of his arousal came out.

He didn't miss the way your nipples hardened from his desperate panting and was quick to trail kisses from your neck down to below your collarbone while undoing your bra. He got harder seeing your perfect, round tits and took one in his mouth, sucking sweetly while palming the other. His quick action drew a sudden moan from you, and you brought a hand up to run your fingers through his layered hair, latching on for support.

"A-Ahhh~" You were still focused on pleasuring Nikolai and kept massaging his dick as he lapped up your breast, digging his nose into your skin, getting drunk off of your vanilla scent. He opened his glossy eyes to see your rosy, lewd expression.

"So pretty, myla," He released your breast with a 'pop' and groaned under your touch, "Mmmm...there...K-keep stroking there, dove. I'll make you feel good, too." His face was flushed now, light pink dusting his cheeks. He didn't expect his pristine dove to be so...forward and lascivious. Certainly not so skilled with your delicate fingers, either. He felt like rewarding you and used his free hand to bring your body down, so your cunt was aligned with his thigh. He grunted feeling your wetness immediately against his skin.

You hissed after feeling the back and forth friction on your slit, insides clenching around nothing. The heat in your core was only getting more intense, making you only want Nikolai and ignoring all morality. You could tell he was feeling it too by the way he started breathing heavily and leaving hickeys on your neck, panting out your name. The kisses trailed down your collarbone to your tits again as Nikolai drew circles around your nipple with his hot tongue.

Needing more, he pushed you down further onto his thigh and suddenly bit your sensitive bud, causing you to jerk up and tug his hair roughly "K-Kolya! Mmmmm...t-too rough!" His name leaving your pretty lips was enough to send him over the edge as he came into your hand and whimpered loudly.

"F-fuck, fuck, fuck..." He hugged you tightly and kissed your skin as he came down from his high, hot breath on your chest. His eyes were shut tightly. You blushed seeing him all vulnerable like this and kissed them softly, gently brushing the hair sticking to his forehead to the side. When he finally opened them again, you were reminded of your own unfinished arousal.

"A-another round, please, Kolya," You begged him with lust-filled eyes, grinding yourself into his thigh more, "Want you to make me--"

Your needy pleas were cut off by Nikolai's amused giggles as he gazed at you mockingly, "Hmmmm...so my dove needs me now, does she?" He tilted his head innocently, his signature twisted smile gracing his face, "I don't know, though, ptashka. I'm a bit tired and injured, so I can't move much."

You hated it--how he was getting off seeing your pathetic expressions. Even if he was telling the truth, it felt like he was degrading you, like he wasn't the one utterly obsessed with and love-sick over you in the first place. You were still just playing his little game, but it didn't matter. All you needed was him now--inside of you.

You exhaled shakily and moved up again, reluctantly holding onto his shoulders and starting to lower yourself, "You're the worst...teasing me like this..."

"Only because you tempt me too much, myla." Nikolai's hands caressed your face and traced over your pouting lips. His eyes remained dark and daunting; he was testing your limits, testing you. You both gasped as you felt him directly on your pussy, brushing past your clit and threatening to slip in between your folds.

Low moans left your mouth as you took him inside of you. His cock was stretching you out, forcing you to close your eyes to avoid looking down. Inch by inch, you went lower--moving at an agonizingly slow pace, whimpering from the uncomfortable feeling of being slowly filled. You stopped after the stretch started to borderline sting. It was too big--He was definitely way too--

His laughs interrupted you again, "Come on, dove. You're only half way down. Try a little harder, won't you?" Only half way? He had to be jokin--

You choked on your moans as Nikolai forcibly grabbed your hips and pulled you down to the base of his cock, submerging your lower half into the milky warm water. He smirked shamelessly upon feeling your perfectly manicured nails dig into his shoulder blades and kissed along your neck to soothe some of the pain.

"A-Ahh...you're tight, love. I'm bigger than your husband, aren't I?" You mumbled something quietly, too focused on trying to adjust. Nikolai kept going, though, "Yeahhhh, I definitely am. I can tell by how--fuck--good you're s-squeezing me~" His facade started disappearing when he felt the sensation of your pussy's contractions mixed with the scratches on his back . He held his breath as you unclasped the gold necklace--now no more than a satirical collar--and let it fall into the bathwater below you.

"S-Stop talking about him. I don't want to think about that cheater anymore. Just focus on me, p-please, Kolya." Your weak yet assertive pleas made his heart melt a bit as you rode him slowly. The unfamiliar stretch each time you rowed your hips back and forth made you bite your lip slightly. Nikolai only threw his head back and placed his hands lightly on your sides--still insistent on not doing any of the work--greedily enjoying the ride and moaning praise out of his mouth. He looked so pretty like this--like he did in the library: flushed face, disheveled hair, and lust-blown eyes.

Both of your moans got louder and you sped up your pace, grinding your pussy down on his cock harder each time and leaving passionate hickeys on his neck and chest. He ran his fingers through your hair and groaned into your ear, the sight of your plush ass and tits bouncing up and down turning him on even more.

"So perfect for me, angel..." Nikolai pulled your neck in and crashed his lips messily onto yours, muffling your moans with his tongue. You were so cute, thighs trembling from trying to take all of him with no help but desperate to chase your own release. He brought his fingers down to your puffy clit and rubbed small circles around it, occasionally pinching and making you buck your hips momentarily. His satisfied groan quickly turned into another whimper as you squeezed harder around him in response to his teasing. Your movements and kisses got sloppier as the two of you got closer to finishing, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap once you felt every vein on his cock throb inside of you.

Your thoughts were becoming clouded as you chased your own pleasure--something you hadn't prioritized in years. You didn't care anymore about your husband, who was just a good-for-nothing adulterer and abuser, your coworkers who'd stayed silent about his cheating, or your parents who only cared about what they could get out of you. All of them kept you in a cage, their cage that separated you from love, truth, and happiness. But Nikolai was different: he lived his life freely and wanted the same for you; he cared for you like no other--actually desiring you and staying loyal, making you laugh, and knowing how to touch you. Even if he hurt you, the pain always went away shortly. After all, even though he'd caused the commotion at the asylum, he'd protected you by keeping you in the bath house with him. He was doing all of this because he cared about you, right?

Nikolai pulled away from the kiss, leaving a string of saliva between you. He was panting hard and out of breath but gazed adoringly into your eyes again. The circles on your clit got faster, drawing broken moans from you as you started to become numb to all the previous pain. Now that you'd adjusted fully and angled yourself better, you could feel Nikolai in the depths of your pussy hitting your sensitive spot. "Mmmmm--Kolya...you feel...'s good--Ahhh~"

"Y-yeah, pryntsesa? You're close, right?" You nodded vaguely, drunk off of the hedonism you'd been denied for so long. "I love you, dove. So much." Your hazy eyes widened after hearing that, tears of ecstasy prickling your vision. "Come for me, please, pretty girl. Let's do it together."

You came undone from that, your orgasm washing over you and putting you in a state of pure bliss. Nikolai groaned as he felt your warm pussy clench around him, following you and releasing his cum inside. You shuddered from the warmth that contrasted the now cold water you were half-submersed in. Feeling tired and cold, you hugged Nikolai's firm body.

"Love you too, Kolya. I wanna be free with you, forever. Let's run away." You looked up into his eyes, almost shocked to see the dark, unreadable expression and a wicked smile on his face.

"Yeah? That's good to hear~" He captured your lips again, a bit more harshly this time, and kissed you hungrily. You gasped into the kiss as you felt him grab and squeeze your ass and thrust up into your overstimulated sore cunt, going at an unrelenting pace you couldn't handle.

You tried to push him away, but you were too weak and fucked-out, only crying out as you felt him balls-deep inside of you. "Sorry, dove, I want to finish one more time. Will you help me?" He was laughing in between as you moaned incoherently, too spent to keep your eyes open or respond properly.

"I love you...I love you, Kolya..." You could only repeat that as you started to feel the sensation building in your core again, feeling Nikolai's rough thrusts more intensely. You felt some shifting and were about to open your eyes when you felt a sharp prick at the left side of your waist.

"Ah--Ow!" Your eyes flew open from the pain, and you gasped in shock as you saw Nikolai's hand closed around your side, holding the rest of your body still as he injected the spare shot of tranquilizer into you.

Nikolai only looked down regrettably at you as he stroked your hair and kissed your face gently. Your head was spinning and your vision slowly faded to black as the effects kicked in, unable to even process what was going on. The last thing you heard was Nikolai's distorted voice.

"Don't worry, dove, we'll be in a better place soon. Somewhere we'll be free..." You made out a warped giggle, "Dos and Sigma are going to be so jealous of me."

₊‧꒰ა read part 3 here ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[mehiwilldoitlater]

You never knew how you ended up in the Fortress of Meropide.The last few memories that you had were that you were on the brink of exasperation; every step was an open wound and more pain. At some point, you thought your body must have given up, finally falling to fatigue and desperation.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a bed—a modest bed covered in a tick blanket. Your wounds were treated, and despite the painful sensation in your head, you were able to understand the situation.

Someone had found you, cured you, and taken you to that strange place. After some glance at the windows, it was easy to see that; maybe you weren't on the surface at all.

The first creatures that you met during that day were the Melusines, a bunch of small creatures that surrounded you at your bed, asking eagerly if you were okay. That wasn't a surprise. After all, they were your main supporters from the first day you entered Fontaine,defending you from all the accusations. Sigewinne, like all of them, never wanted to leave your side. Make sure to cure all of your wounds. It was strange at the beginning, but nice at the same time. You couldn't remember the last time that you were treated like an actual living being.

The only oddity that you couldn't shake off yourself was One question: how did you end up in the fortress?

For sure, you knew that you weren't a prisoner, or at least, you thought, since you were treated with some kind of regard. Yet you couldn't shake off the sensation that whatever was happening there was just so... off.

The answer to your question came on the day that you finally were able to stay awake for more than ten minutes, in the form of the Duke of the Fortress himself. 

He entered without any kind of ceremony, only making some kind of sound from his throat—something similar to a sound of disapproval—after seeing your worried eyes meet his cold ones.

He didn't speak at all. He just dropped on the only available chair in the room, looking at you with some kind of worry,fidgering with his hand, searching for the right words.

He inhaled deeply.

"I'm Wriothesley, the administrator of this place. I suppose you have questions. Now, do you know where you are?"

You nodded, first slowly, then with some more energy.

"Good. And do you know, why are you here?"

You had a small idea of why you were there right now, but his demeanor wasn't that of someone who planned to torture someone. If that was their intention, then why should they take care of you and take time to cure you?You shocked your head, this time in a denial move.

"Well, it seems like you have been falsely accused of impersonating the allmighty—the big one, you know?"

Yeah, you got quite a lot too. He noticed your rigidity; maybe his approach was too professional? You must have felt more like an interrogation than a simple conversation... Was he that intimidating? Not like he didn't like that, but you weren't any kind of prisoner...

"Do you have some kind of damage that prevents you from speaking? I could ask Sigewinne to check you up."

He moved his hands, like asking you to continue his sentence. Of course he knew you weren't mute, and he knew that you could speak freely.

"... Y/n..."

"Ah! Good! So you can speak after all!"

He chuckled a little, maybe to lighten up the atmosphere. Then he cleared his throat again.

"So, as I was saying, you must be wondering why you are in the Fortress of Meropide. Well, do you recall your false accusation? ...Well, it seems like, thanks to our Ludex, the accusation has fallen."

Finally, a new expression on your face Surprise...maybe Hope?

"Wait, hold on! So... This means that I'm-"

"Free to roam? Not quite. The situation is still quite dense, especially with the other nations."

And again, you fell into a long, exhausted sigh. The last thing you needed was to know that, despite all, you were still wanted around this world dead. He looked at you with an inch of condolence.

"It's a temporary state... After Neuvillette and Lady Furina fix this situation, you'll be free to do whatever you want to do."

Again, the room was caught in silence. In other words, you were stuck there until the first notice; you were in fact a prisoner of that place. Great, just great. Well, it was better than being hunted down by every character in that damn game, right? ...like that could have been good news.

You decided just to roll in the blankets that covered you, facing the wall instead of Wriothesley.

"I suppose you're not in the mood for a chat. In this case, I'll let you rest a little more."

He taught the doorknob, holding it with force, but instead of the click of the door, you only heard the sound of his robes.

"I know you're scared, but... I'm not your enemy. I ask you to just...trust me."

But what he received was just silence. After that, the click finally echoed in your room.

//////

He kept trying to focus on the documents, a failure of distraction. He Taked a sip of his tea, taking a large sip.

This was a mistake—a big, huge mistake—but it was a necessary evil, at least from his point of view.Fontaine was the only nation that refused to participate in the hunt against the impostor.

Neuvillette and the Melusines sensed something in you. Something that no one could have noticed—only a creature so connected with this world.

This was a huge misunderstanding, and that was the main reason why Neuvillette had moved all Fontaine forces in order to find you. If he only knew that you were already under the custody of the Duke...He didn't plan this! He knew that he should have informed the two leaders of Fontaine, but something happened.

The Primordial Sea...Its stopped the moment that you stepped there, in the fortress.

He knew how dangerous it was; he was its first and last line of defense, and if you were something capable of calming it, you would void a catastrophe! You were the solution!

He said to himself that this wasn't a permanent decision. He wanted to inform Neuvillette ...sooner or later.

[last-starry-sky]

let it out pt. 2 - 141xreader

part 1 - text post inspo - art inspo

[NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: crying, mentions of torture, light interrogation, vague descriptions of injuries, a baddie gets shot in a flashback, fingering, voyeurism, unprotected piv sex (reader has an iud), cowgirl, light degradation, pet play if you squint, mmmf foursome, cumming inside.]

taglist: @princessisfinethx @t-rextyrannt @my-therapist-hates-me @soleilak @star-buck-barnes @julesneedshelp @itsdark--inside @mishaglass @sushiumex

The four of you froze at the sound of your captain’s voice. Only Soap moved, pulling himself quickly from between your thighs to face Price as he pushed open your door with the toe of his boot. The hinges creaked eerily, breaking the stunned silence, until the door hit the wall. The cheap wood wobbled from the impact then started to close back in on itself. Price caught it with his heel, gently kicking it shut behind him. 

You didn’t start to shiver with fear until you heard the latch catch. Captain Price was locked inside your room with his two sergeants and his lieutenant. All caught in bed with his medic.

He sauntered in slowly, each fall of his boots like death knell as he approached the bed. When he finally stood before you, towering over your raw, tangled forms like a stone sentinel, the very picture of authority, he just stood there. His gaze was downcast, face impartial. From the look on his face you could tell he was thinking.  

“Price-” Soap tried to speak first, but Price silenced him with a wave of his hand. 

Your Captain stood before the four of you, drawing up to full height with his hands on his hips before pointedly looking each man in the eye. You noticed that he avoided your debauched, mostly naked form. 

“Gaz. Soap,” he said nodding at the two of them, “Up. Backs to the wall. Now.”

They knew as well as you did what that cadence of his voice meant. This is an order, not a suggestion. They both stood up, squeaking bed springs and boots on linoleum the only sounds in the room. They each spared you a single, sorry glance as they slid past the captain to stand against the far wall as ordered. 

That left you in Ghost’s arms. Price walked the last half-step up to your bed, head low, eyes on yours. 

Always was so professional, your captain. That’s why you liked him. So different from your previous commanding officers. He was actually respectful of the women around him and didn’t just fake it. And why not? They deserved it. They were strong and resourceful, survivors who could stand their ground and win against any man. And here you were, a hand-selected member of his own team, caught in bed with his other chosen three. 

You would be lucky if a court martial was all you got out of this. Fuck, you’d be happy if you saw the sun tomorrow. 

“Ghost,” he said calmly, crossing his arms over his chest, staring the other man down. “Set ‘er down.”

You felt your back slide slowly down his shirt until your butt met the mattress. His hands remained tensed on your hips. Another agonizing moment passed as the two men continued to stare at each other. You felt a whole, silent conversation was happening that you couldn’t see, that you couldn’t translate even if you could.

“Good,” Price said stepping that half-step back, giving your legs room to dangle off the bed. “Now. Join the others.”

You let out a shaking breath as Ghost took his hands from you. The mattress squeaked, lifting you up as Ghost left. You suddenly felt alone. So very very alone. You kept your eyes on your shaking knees, Price’s black pants just beyond the blur of your vision, as you listened to Ghost’s heavy, intentional steps. There were only a few. It was a small room after all. You listened to his footfalls, his heel squeaked as he turned to stand statue straight, a specter in black against the beige wall. 

“Medic,” Price asked, shocking you out of your daze. 

He was looking down at you in the worst way, the fatherly way. His blue eyes were soft instead of steely, the fine wrinkles bunching around them making him so much more approachable. He looked so different without the shadow of his boonie hat hiding his face. Come to think of it, this night was the first time you’d seen him completely out of uniform. He had the same beard, same body, but he looked just that little bit younger.

He looked like someone you would look twice at in the supermarket and hoped he looked back. A guy who could convince you to trust him to spot you in the gym with that warm, disarming smile. A stranger you wouldn’t mind become an acquaintance, or more, as you shared a table with at a busy café. You wouldn’t protest when he offered to buy you another coffee to show his appreciation, or-

You shook you head, quickly crossing your arms around your chest (as if it mattered) and sat up, awaiting his command.

He turned around slowly and casually from side to side, hands on his hips, looking for something. 

“Where’s your shirt?” he asked, the barest hint of amusement in his voice as he canted his head, trying to look under the bed.

“I don-” you started to say, before Gaz interjected.

“Behind you, cap,” he said with a cough, trying to act casual.

Price nodded his affirmation with a small frown before turning about. He found your shirt where Ghost had tossed it: crumpled in the corner by the door. He picked up and dusted off the wrinkled, olive-drab thing before turning half back to hand it to you at arms length.

“‘ere you go then. Put that on,” he ordered, not turning his face from the wall. 

You didn’t care to dig any farther into that at the moment, so you did as you were told. Taking it and thanking him in your quietest voice, quickly pulling the shirt over your head. At least now you were decent, if only to hide your love-bite covered chest. You rubbed at your sore neck. Those were another problem entirely. 

“Done?” Price asked, eyes still on the wall.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. You kept your eyes on the floor, not daring to look to your left where Soap, Gaz, and Ghost stood. You absolutely didn’t have the nerve to face your Captain, either.

“Right then,” he said in that rough, northern dialect as he faced you, his full, raw presence turned on you like a spot light in an operating theater. He looked down at you impassively, huddled as small as you could make yourself on the bed, and gestured in a swift, upward motion with two fingers. “Up,” he commanded.

You were (still, as far as you knew) a good soldier, so you did as you were told. Pushing yourself to the edge of the bed before carefully standing up before him. Your legs wobbled a little. Nerves, you told yourself. Hopefully. Mostly. The other bit was the looming storm cloud of a fact that you were standing before your Captain in nothing but a thin t-shirt and soaked underwear.

This felt like Basic. Like some sort of hazing ritual meant to toughen you up. To get you ready to face the cruel reality of life in the real military.

Price stepped back again, crossing his arms over his chest, making himself look so much larger and intimidating. He didn’t need to. You were already small and intimidated. He let you stand in front of him squirming as he squinted down at you, before motioning with his hand for you to turn.

“Stay where you are. Back to the wall.”

You followed his command, following him as you turned. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat when you realized how he had positioned everyone. He could see both groups. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost against the wall could see you and Price. You could only see him.

This was torture, something you knew Price had no qualms about. There was always that plausible deniability, because you’d never actually seen him or the team do anything. You’d always been told to wait outside while they “took care of it”, but you weren’t stupid. Price had always answered your questions after with short yes’s and no’s. No medical treatment. Leave ‘em be.

Maybe it was all physiological, which would fit with what you knew of your Captain. He had connections, friends even, in various agencies across the globe. Better to leave a shattered husk of a man that could bring back a harrowing story to his leader of the team hunting him, than a body. A dead body is useless. A problem to deal with. Price approached warfare like a surgeon with a robot guided laser. He was a planner, precise, smart. He made his enemy work for him.

You clenched your fingers into the palms of your hands. Good god, now he was going to question you in front of them. 

“You hear me, doc?” he asked, rough and impatient, finger stroking his bottom lip. It made you tremble, eyes blowing wide as your head snapped up automatically to met his.

“N-no . . .” You stuttered, mouth somehow out of your control. “Sorry. Sir.”

He sighed. Eyes closing as he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Please explain what exactly it is I walked into here,” he said agonizingly slow, emphasizing every other word. When he finished, he stared you down for another long second before asking, “Hear me then?”

“Yes sir,” you answered softly. You could feel your capillaries blooming across your cheeks. How exactly were you going to explain yourself? What did he want to hear?

Price drummed his fingers impatiently against his jacket. “Well?” he asked with a pop of his brows.

You drew in a shuddering breath. No better place to start than the beginning.

“I was . . . relaxing in my room, on my bed-” you started.

“And what were you doing before that?” he asked pointedly, interrupting you. As if he didn’t know. He was there. 

You sighed. “I was having a drink with Soap, Gaz, Ghost-”

“And me?” he interrupted again. You nodded. He tipped his head to the side, condescending non-smile quirking his mustache. You fucking hated it. “Yeah, I remember that, now that you say.” He looked over your head at the men behind you. “Popped out for a smoke with Gaz an’ when we got back, only Ghost was there.” His mouth pressed into a line as he turned back to you. “Is that it then? Is this where you and Soap scurried off t’?”

“No sir,” you said, a hysterical waver in your voice. You would answer for what you did, what actually happened, no matter the consequences. You would not, however, let him frame this from his perspective. “I left by myself! Wanted-”

“Wanted what?” he asked harshly, leaning down to your level. “Wanted to have a little fun behind my back?”

“No!” you shouted, tears filling your eyes.

“Then what?” he shouted back, voice cracking like a thundercloud, ominous and terrible.

“Wanted to be left alone!” you answered, tears spilling treacherously down your cheeks. You turned your head to wipe them away. You didn’t want to be seen as weak, or worse: trying to manipulate him. Not that a man like Price could be swayed by some dumb woman’s tears anymore.

“I swear. I just-” you started, speaking out of turn, as you stared at the shiny smear your tears left on your arm. The weight on your captain’s hand gripping your shoulder robbed you of your ability to speak. 

“Why’d you leave?” he asked as soft as his gravelly voice would allow.

“I was frustrated,” you said, taking in a deep breath.

“About?” he asked.

“About how you all treated me on this mission,” you said softly.

You weren’t exactly happy this was how your complaints were put out in the open. Given the circumstances, it’s not like you had much of a choice. You hadn’t been sure how Soap planned to bring it up, but you’d been more than a little distracted in the moment. Maybe you’d assumed (in the moments before his lips crashed into yours) that your mood would improve and nothing would ever have to be talked over. Guys were like that. Life, work, everything would go on as normal and they would forget. Right? 

Price, for his part, looked thoroughly confused. He gripped your other shoulder as he leaned in, eyes squinting, brows pinching together, all to scrutinize your face further. 

“What?” he asked.

“You . . .” you started, waving your hands in a wide, dramatic gesture, “All of you. You kept me from doing my job. The whole mission. Anytime any of you got injured-”

“Oh fuck off,” You heard Ghost spit out behind you.

You whipped around, tearing out of Price’s grip, fire in your eyes.

“You,” you snarled, marching over to Ghost where he leaned casually in the corner. You squared up toe-to-toe with him, as close to his stupid, masked face as you could. If you could have stood chest to chest with him, you would have. “You of all people. You got fucking shot and pushed me away-”

“M’ plate took it,” he said with an impartial stare and a shrug. “‘m fine. Besides, we were in the middle of a fire fight. No time t’-”

“No time for me to check?” You interrupted him, exasperated. “I know what adrenaline does to your brain and body, lieutenant. Shock, too! I’ve seen soldiers, smart ones, strong ones, think they can power through. They try to convince me that they’re stronger than a bullet in their chest, that they can finish the mission.” 

You threw up your hands as you felt a hand on your shoulder. You assumed it was Price intervening. With your last action before you were pulled back, you took one step forward, pressing your hand to Ghost’s right bottom rib. Right were you'd seen him get hit.

The action was so sudden, he couldn’t react in time to stop you before the pain him. It wasn’t a hard press, just enough to make his eyes squint shut. You could imagine him grimacing beneath the mask. He flinched away, swatting at your hand, but you had been pulled back already. He stared you down, rubbing at his bruised (you assumed) rib until you were turned. 

“Hey hey hey,” Gaz said as he turned you away from Ghost. “You’re right,” he said soothing you with his big, soft eyes as he stroked at your shoulders. “We did do that,” he said sweetly cupping your cheek, “and we’re sorry. Right guys?” 

A murmur of yeah’s and hums scattered out as Kyle smiled down at you. You tried to hide your own smile that his pulled from you. It was terrifying how quickly he could diffuse a tense situation.  

“That’s why we came to your room in the first place, to make you feel better,” he said more to Price than you, hands rubbing at both your shoulders. What an angel. “Could tell you weren’t acting yourself.”

“Does that mean I can look at that burn then?” you asked.

You had been snaking your way through the cramped, wet brick alleyways of some god forsaken slum. You were looking for the building your target was holed up in, or your target. Whichever happened first. He was known for running at the first sign of trouble, annoyingly slipping through your grasp time after time. Once you got reliable information of his newest safe house, Price had made it clear letting him escape again was not an option. 

Price took point, followed by Gaz. You were third. Soap brought up the rear. Ghost was on over watch, voice leading you through the maze of rain-slicked of buildings and tunnels. It was annoying for the four of you on the ground, but the storm was excellent cover. 

Price had just crossed an open courtyard, filled with doors and three other exits. After clearing them one by one, he stood by the last archway, signaling for the rest of you to file in behind as he radioed Ghost for directions. 

That’s when you saw something: a warm, bright light on the roof of the building ahead of you. Fire, your brain told you immediately. You’d recognized it for what it was, a molotov, the second before it hit the wall. The wall right behind Gaz. It exploded in a shimmering rain of glass, accelerant inside invisibly coating everything around it before the vapors ignited. 

You’d been too shocked to do anything but gasp uselessly. The rest of the team, thankfully, had use of their brains. A second later, Price had taken out the thrower with a single silenced shot of his sidearm. Soap had pulled you back, throwing you behind him so he could beat out the flames creeping down Gaz’s chest. 

In the moment, you were angry. You should have been the one to help Gaz, not Soap. Putting out the fire, pulling out the shards of glass, and treating his burns: that what you were trained in. But you hadn’t. You had failed. You’d stewed in your emotions through the rest of the night, angrily popping off shots as you finally stormed the safe house. 

Now, thinking back, you felt awful. Gaz could have died and you were too wrapped up in yourself to care, not even noticing how fucking incompetent you’d been. Soap had even patted your back as you regrouped, telling you it was no worry. That he had your back. You had been too emotionally stunted to even thank him.  

“Sure,” Gaz said looking down at his blue button down shirt then back at you. “Right here?”

“Ah . . .” You looked around him, trying and find where you’d thrown your duffel. You had an emergency kit in there with burn cream and bandages at the ready. 

Soap was standing over it. Guarding it. His eyes were still dark and hungry, like a dog barely holding back. They flicked up to yours, choking out your words before you could form them. One arm was curled around his chest, fingers clenched in his shirt. He was chewing on the pad of his thumb of his other hand, chin pushed into his chest. It was like he needed the pain to keep him grounded, to keep from snapping that invisible chain Price had leashed him with.

“Sit down,” Price said, swaying his hips as he joined you and Gaz. He nodded at the bed behind him. You and Gaz did as you were told. “Give it here then,” you heard him say to Soap.

You didn’t watch how things played out between them. Your attention was on your “patient”. Not that it was much work to watch him as he unbuttoned his shirt, smiling to himself the whole while. You couldn’t help but start imagining what could have happened if Price hadn’t crashed the party. You could have been watching all three of them strip off their clothes by now. These strong, beautiful bodies you’d only seen glimpses of, covered in sweat and grime, or by the weak, blue light of the morning; they could have been yours. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away from the skin Gaz was revealing to you as Price set your bag on the bed. You busied yourself with digging for your emergency kit while Gaz finished with his shirt. You found it, hastily putting on the single set of gloves you’d left yourself, trying to ignore Price looming behind you. 

You put on your best clinical front as you turned back to Gaz. He still had a bandage over the wound, which was good. 

“Any pain?” you asked pressing gingerly at it, eyes on the curling adhesive at his collarbone. You had to fight yourself to keep your eyes from wandering beyond the sterile white perimeter. 

“No,” he answered. 

You leaned down in front of him to pull at the edge of the bandage, testing it. “Have you changed this recently?” you asked. It definitely wasn’t the one you had put on him a week ago, which was good, but it also didn’t look new.

“Yeah,” he answered quickly. “Got it cleaned up this morning.”

He’d gone to the base hospital. He’d let their staff look at him. Not you, but strangers. You tapped your agitated fingers on his skin before ripping the bandage off. Gaz flinched back. You ignored him, going back to dig out your own, better bandage and burn cream from your pack.

“Good,” you said tearing it open and squeezing out the whole of the little packet on his wound. 

It doesn’t look bad, you thought as you spread out the clear ointment over his skin. His epidermis had blistered a bit, pebbling in a long streak from shoulder to collarbone, where the alcohol had sat the longest. The rest of his skin was intact, with only a little redness at the edges. A second degree burn, considering the worst that could have happened that night, was not his worst fate.

“Might scar here,” you said motioning along the line of blisters. “Keep up with the ointment and daily bandage changes and you could get lucky.” 

You were pressing down the new bandage when you realized what you’d said.  

“So you’re saying if I see you tomorrow . . . I’ll get lucky?” he said craning his neck to look at the blush deepening on your cheeks, smile dancing in his eyes.

“Gaz,” you sighed, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He could not be doing this, here and now of all places. 

Price started to chuckle behind you. The second between his laugh ending and him speaking made a bead of sweat run down your neck. 

“Ghost teach you t’ joke like that?” he said sliding up behind you, “Know I didn’t, but I’ll allow it.” 

You jumped as you felt his fingertips skim down your sides, resting on your hips. 

“Besides,” he said low into the shell of your ear, vibration of his voice thrumming straight to your core. “think he deserves a little reward after being so good for you. Right?” 

You didn’t answer, closing your arms around Gaz’s neck as Price’s hands dipped under the band of your underwear at your hips. Gaz let you lean on him, running his hands up your ribs, up and under your shirt, to support you as Price pulled your panties down your thighs. You felt him let go, hands leaving as the plain cotton ghosted your knees, falling the rest of the way to the floor.

“Gaz,” you gasped, eyes clenched shut, face buried in his neck. 

You felt just as shocked, lost, as you had when Ghost had interrupted you and Soap earlier. You didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what Price had planned. Should you give in? Resist? Both were valid options, but, for the life of you, you could not decide.

Gaz hushed you with a soft, “It’s okay, baby” as his large hands gently squeezed your hips. They traveled down to your ass, grabbing a quick handful before one came around to stroke at your inner thigh. His fingers stroking delicately across your already wet pussy made you jump, a sharp gasp escaping you as Gaz shushed you again.

“‘s okay,” he said with a quiet hunger. He stroked you again and again, lost in the competing desires to go slow, relaxing you and making you feel good, and the selfish need to break inside and just feel you. “You’re okay,” he said pressing you toward him with a hand on your ass. That little bit of added pressure drove his fingers inside.

Gaz groaned a low oh, pumping his long fingers slowly in and out of your sodden pussy. You were still embarrassingly wet from earlier. You could hear the soft clicking of him stroking inside you.

“Fuuuuck love,” he moaned into your chest, fingers still pumping in and out. “Fuck do you feel good. Nice ‘n wet.”

Soap let out an injured whine, like a fox caught in a trap.

“Gaz,” you warbled. “Please. I need-”

“Whats this?” Price asked, gruff and low, stepping quickly back behind you. “What do you need?”

You turned your head, not sure who exactly you wanted, or needed, to speak to, blinking away tears. “Want . . . want you . . . inside me.” 

Gaz groaned into your chest, fingers still pumping lazily in and out. 

“And how do you want to do that, exactly?” Price asked, the rough pads of his thumb and forefinger turning your head enough to look you in the eye. 

“Wanna . . .” you hesitated, caught by the serious glint of his blue eyes, until Gaz started to seriously fuck his fingers up your cunt, curling inside on the hunt for your sweet spots. “Wanna ride him, please.”

You felt Price’s fingers twitch. It was so subtle you weren’t positive it actually happened. All too quickly, though, he was coolly pulling away. He crossed his arms back over his chest, giving the sight of you: half naked and clinging to Gaz, and Kyle: eyes squeezed shut, head pressed to your chest, groaning, with one hand pawing at every part of your cunt he could, a final once-over. 

“You heard her, sergeant,” Price said darkly, shuffling backwards.

Not a second later, you heard the metallic clinking of Gaz undoing his belt. He shoved down his underwear and pants, kicking out out of both them and his boots before you could give him room. He scooped you up by your hips, rolling onto the bed, straddling your legs around his hips in one fluid motion.

You hadn’t thought about how different he would look like this. You weren’t too proud to admit you had fantasied about him, all of them, but your fantasies usually involved them on top of you, and behind you, and even once, crawling down between your legs. God, you had cum so embarrassingly hard from that. Couldn’t look any of your teammates in the eye for a good few hours after. But up here, looking down at Gaz’s sweet brown eyes, with that little bit of blush that made the scars on his cheek color pink, you felt sexy, powerful. 

Gaz pressed his thumbs into the divot on either side of your pelvis, his strong hands wrapping around your hips to force you down. He groaned and you let out a soft oh when your pussy met his cock. It was only the veiny underside smashing against your slick folds, but the contact was so delicious. He felt so hot, so thick, real. You moaned as you ground your clit up his shaft. 

His hands slid up to your waist, forcing you to bend down over him. You blushed as you realized he had just put your pussy on display for the men behind you. It didn’t matter. Your normal, functioning brain was gone. All you cared about was watching Kyle, face like a renaissance sculpture, bite his lip as he looked dreamily up at you. 

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good already,” he said softly, eyes half-lidded, smoothing his hands up your ribs. “You ready?”

You nodded, shuffling forward to let his cock spring free. You took him in hand, looking back to guide him to your entrance with a fluid glide of your hips. Soap caught your eye as you did. He looked like he was going to combust. He was covering his face with his hands, but that didn’t hide the sweat at his hairline, or his open-mouth panting.

“God, fuck! Fuckin’-” he whined, screwing his eyes shut once again after catching a glimpse of your cunt swallowing Kyle’s length. 

You were beyond needy. Horny and desperate from the attention they had all been giving you earlier. You were so wet you took his whole cock in one slow, stuttering motion. It was purposeful. You wanted to feel everything as his head shoved it's way deep inside. God damn did it feel good to have a real cock inside you again. 

You must have felt good to him too, because he was stunned silent. Nothing but low moans and grunts escaping him as you seated yourself. 

You leaned forward when your thighs finally met his hips, your hands on his solar plexus to support your weight. The first few pumps of your hips were strong and sensual, working yourself open. You kept your gaze on the man beneath you, watching as he fell into the even pace you set.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for your hips to give out. You were strong, but it had been too long since you’d had any sex, let alone in this position. It wasn’t a favorite among the anonymous hookups you’d had in the past. You tried to push past the pain, but the sweat on your brow and the slow, stuttering motion you devolved into was quickly noticed.

“Help?” Kyle asked, grabbing at your hips to pump up into you without waiting for an answer.

You nodded nervously, noticing Price saunter back up to your side. You tried to ignore him, hoping he was just here to observe. That hope dissolved like paper in the rain when he wrapped his arm around your head, hand on your jaw, forcing you to turn your head up to face him. You were curled into his chest, locked into his steely gaze. It made you clench down on Kyle at the top of his stroke, earning a choked out fuck from the man. 

“Wanted to ride him, right?” Price asked you.

You nodded at him, tears re-rimming your eyes. You tried to get back on your own pace to beat him to the conclusion you assumed he was heading toward.

“‘Good teammate, isn’t he?” he continued, watching where Kyle’s glistening cock pumped into your pussy. He was close enough now to hear the soft squelching and the hit of skin-on-skin. “A good man.”

He looked down at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. The combination of Price and Kyle had driven any thought beyond sex out of your head. All you wanted to do was close your eyes, block out the feeling of three other sets of prying eyes on you, and feel Gaz as he rolled his pelvis into yours, over and over until he came undone. The squeeze of Price’s hand on your hip made you force out a choked yes.

“So good. Tryin’ so hard,” he groaned, fingers biting into your skin before pulling away completely. “Let’s get you some help then,” he said darkly, turning to the two men behind you. 

Soap’s name wasn’t halfway out of Price’s mouth before you felt the mattress dipping violently beneath you. The sudden addition of Soap’s weigh, plus his excitement, sprang the three of you up and down in a wave. The poor bed had been squeaking before, but it whined a metallic scratch now, clearly pushed beyond it’s capacity. 

Soap didn’t care. He saddled up behind you, breathing heavy in your ear as he pulled you in his arms. 

“Gonnae let me finally help y’, ay?” he huffed, breathless with denial and excitement, his hands immediately raking up under your shirt. He squeezed your breasts and rutted into your ass with a groan. “Knew ye needed me. That’s what teammates do, right hen? Help each other. Fuck. So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he said, leaving your shirt rucked up over your tits to grab at your face. He forced you back, groaning as his lips smothered yours. 

“God,” Gaz moaned, breathless. “Don’t fuckin’ tease me like that.”

Soap understood, ripping your shirt off your body for the second time today. Gaz groaned at the sight of your breasts bouncing and jiggling with every thrust. 

You felt like a wild animal had been loosed, the way Soap acted. He kissed you like a man starved. If you felt Soap had been shameless before, now, after being forced to watch you fuck Gaz, he was disgusting. You couldn’t even call what he was doing a kiss anymore, the way he mindlessly flicked between licking inside your mouth, to biting your lips, barely pulling away to whine and groan, leaving long strings of saliva painting your face.

All the while, you were still trying to at least meet half of Kyle’s effort. Not that he was complaining, but you felt bad how you’d abandoned him to fuck you on his own. Soap was no help at all. In fact, he was actively fighting against both you and Gaz by pulling your hips back so he could roll his cock into the plush of your ass.

You heard a squeak behind you. Someone was leaning on the foot board. Your eyes flicked over to Price standing by the headboard, arms crossed with the tiniest bit of a smirk playing on his face, quirking his mustache. That only left one other person it could be.

“Gon’ do as you’re told, Johnny?” he asked roughly. 

Soap didn’t answer, nosing at your jaw until you tipped your head enough for him to add a line of bites, right on top of Ghost’s from before. You clenched around Kyle again, moaning and grabbing at his head, as Soap moved down your neck. He was good with his mouth. He nipped at your skin before kissing and laving over the red mark with his tongue. It made you sad to have lost the opportunity to have him eat you out. 

Soap’s head was jerked back out of your hand. He had just finished a bite into the crook of your neck, too. The bed undulated, dipping the three of you toward the back corner as Ghost pressed his full weight to the bed with his knee.  

“Hear me?” Ghost growled into Soap’s ear, his gloved fingers gripped tight into the short shag of his mohawk. His voice made you flush. Soap whined in return. “Or d’ I have t’ show you? Fuckin’ horny mutt.”

Ghost’s decision came in the form of Soap being roughly shoved off the bed. He at least landed on his feet, not that he cared. He was immediately at Ghost’s shoulder, sighing and whined as Ghost took up his old position behind you.

“C’mooon, Ghost,” Soap said, bouncing his knee as he looked down at you. “Let me help. I’ll do it right. I promise. Please?”

Ghost ignored him, shoving Soap down to kneel on the floor. Soap gave up for the moment, giving into pouting. He leaned on the mattress, his bright eyes pleading up at you once more. 

You fell into Ghost’s guidance. You loved having his massive frame pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around you, mask cutting into the top of your head. His hands on your hips setting a punishing rhythm, fucking Gaz with your body. It made his head nail your cervix with every downward thrust. It was comforting to fall back against his chest and let him do the manual labor while Gaz and you collected the pleasure. It was almost passionless the way he used you, doing nothing for himself. If you couldn’t feel the pace of his heart jump, his breathing echo hollow behind his mask, maybe you could fully believe that.

“Slow . . . fuck, slow down, Ghost,” Kyle moaned. “‘m gonna-” he started, his fucked out eyes catching yours.

“Go ahead,” you said softly, body melting into the warm muscle behind you, one hand pressed to Gaz’s lower stomach. “Cum in me, Gaz.”

The four men around you all groaned. Soap let his head fall against your knee. Ghost did the same to your shoulder. Kyle rolled his head to the side, throwing a free hand over his eyes. Price was the only one able to speak, stepping toward you to do so.

“Sure about that, love?” he asked, clearing his throat. He cocked his head to the side, continuing. “You safe?”

You nodded. “I have an-” 

Ghost chose that moment to pick up your body, until only the head of Kyle’s cock remained inside you, then grind you back down suddenly, sheathing him inside you hard enough to knock your breath from you. Then he did it again and again.

“Ghost,” Kyle whined, eyes screwed shut, beading with sweat as he lay back and took what the man controlling you gave him.

“Have an . . . IUD,” you managed to squeak out. “Safe.”

“Fuck, cap. Please,” Soap plead, kissing up your knee, hand soothing along your thigh. “Lemme kiss her. Just once. I’ll be good. Promise.”

Price nodded, mute, his eyes not leaving yours.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Soap took your captain’s blanket approval for what it was, immediately launching himself up to cradle your head in his hands. Ghost continued his work, pumping you brutally up and down Kyle’s shaft. Gaz’s hands tightened on your hips, letting out a long, low moan as he pumped up into you in a broken stutter.

“Fuck, y’ feel so good. ‘s . . . too good.” 

A bright smile broke across his face as he let go. You felt him stop, cock expanding within you, as he let out a final oh. Ghost slowed to a stop, allowing Kyle to milk himself through his orgasm. Finally, Ghost pulled you up, releasing Kyle’s cock from you far too soon.

Ghost pushed Soap away from your mouth with a gruff, “Enough.” He landed on the bed next to Kyle, still panting and coming down. Soap fixed his hard stare on Ghost, like an animal challenging a rival.

“‘mon Ghost,” he said, trying to sound casual. “‘s my turn.”

Ghost pushed you down to lie on top of Gaz. Gaz quickly wrapped his arms round you, keeping you stable while pressing soft kisses to your temple. Ghost pulled your legs out from under you, moving them from straddling Kyle’s legs to laying inside. It felt a little awkward. You didn’t quite know what to make of this new position until you felt Ghost shuffle up your body until he was flush with your ass. 

A hand on your lower back pushed the two of you down, springs screeching, as Ghost ground into your ass. He unzipped his fly before finally responding to Soap.

“Stay in your place, mutt.”

a/n: aaaaaah sorry if this is trash but i wanted to get it out to yall before my anniversary! I'll be training someone new at work (we are hella busy rn) so the next month is going to be hectic again.

If you requested to be tagged and weren't that means I wasn't able to. You probably just need to change your settings so anyone can @ you. If you want to be added or removed just let me know!

also, apologies for being so mean to soap in this part. he's just too easy to bully. I PROMISE in part three everyone gets to have some pussy fun! 🚂🚂🚂

[lumpywhump]

Tw: mention of past abuse

something at will always hit me like a bat is when the super happy sunshine character has a horrible whumpy past! Whumpee began smiling when they saw their friend. "Hey dude! What's on the agenda for today?"

"We only have one guy to interrogate," A explained as they glanced at their clipboard. "Everyone is already inside."

A led whumpee through the rows of cells. They tried not to look at the people inside. They tended to ignore anything that could dampen their smile. Whumpee's eyes were drawn to the cell their friends surrounded.

"Who's..." whumpee froze as they saw the figure in the cell. It was all too familiar.

Leader didn't notice whumpee stiffen. "Our guy today is Whumper LastName. Accused of multiple accounts of kidnapping, torture, abuse... all kinds of stuff like that. Boss wants us to get locations. They think there could still be more captives." They turned to whumpee, unsettled by their silence. "Whumpee, what's up?"

whumpee realized they had been staring at whumper. "Nothing!" They smiled at leader.

"wait,"

Whumpee jumped at the sound of whumpee's voice.

"Whumpee? As in Whumpee LastName?" They chuckled.

"whumpee? Do you know this guy?" B asked.

"no?" Whumpee laughed, clearly over compensating. "I've never seen this dude before,"

"Are you sure? That would actually be really helpful for this case," Leader offered.

"nope! I've never met someone named whumper,"

"Come on now whumpee," whumper rose from the bed they were sitting on. "You can't forget this face. I certainly can remember your screams well,"

"Whumpee? What are they talking about?"

"nothing! Just them trying to mess with us. Don't listen to them." Whumpee looked around for something to distract everyone with.

"whumpee, you're shaking," B reached out to touch whumpee's should but they flinched and jumped away.

Oh god. Everything they've worked for. They've perfectly crafted this personality, and now whumper is going to destroy their life a second time.

"I used to know whumpee really well. I always wondered what happened to them after they escaped." Whumper smiled, as if thinking of a fond memory. (which wasn't too far from the truth) "I remember how well whumpee took whumper 2's beatings. I particularly liked their screams when I whipped them."

"Shut up!" Whumpee yelled. They hadn't noticed the tears falling down their face.

"Oh! How's whumpee 2?"

"You disgusting bastard! You killed them and you know it. How!? How is someone so sick and twisted as you?!" Whumpee stopped and looked at their friends and regretted it. They stood with shocked and worried faces. Fuck, whumpee really fucked everything up again.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

omg stop a cap mactavish drabble where they're caught 'n he's gotta keep the reader calm would feed my soul

—Listen To My Voice

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

“Jus’ keep your eyes open and listen to my voice, eh?” The heavy Scottish drawl snaps you back into focus, your head pounding awfully and pain ricocheting up and down your limbs. It’s a stiff and unyielding order. “C’mon now, Sergeant.” 

Coughing, you hack up splatters of blood onto your cargos—hands and arms tied down with rough rope that skins you every time you shift. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, blinking rapidly as the footsteps walk away from your holding cell and disappear with the slam of a far-off door. 

The Captain ahead of you grunts, his hard blue eyes sliding down the wreckage of your uniform; the open wounds and torn fingernails. He doesn’t look much better, truth be told. Your captors had taken pleasure in making you watch the other get brutalized—the vile rage in your eyes yet the inability to do anything. 

It was mental torture as well as physical.

“Oversight ought to know we’re gone,” Soap slides out smoothly, tilting his mohawked head to the side to study the room in casual sweeps, as if not bloodied and broken. “—they’ll be sendin’ out recon teams to scout the area in little under a day. Standard protocol.”

His voice trails, seeing your gaze locked onto the door of the cell, pupils nothing but tiny dots in your burst veins of the once white sclera. Blue finds the way your body shakes, and the man’s large fingers twitch along the arm of his chair.

In the back of his throat, he lets off a rumble and resets his stubbed jaw; the scar along his left eye shifting with his expression. 

“Sergeant,” your face twitches, but you don’t look at him. Inside your chest, your rattling lungs can nearly be heard aloud. 

Captain MacTavish’s lips tighten. “Didn’t I tell you to listen? Pipe up! This is important.” 

Your mind dances between hysterics and the numb oblivion of shock. While Soap had years to adhere to the idea of bare torture—even going through it before—you had no such luck. Experienced with weaponry, yes, but One-Four-One had only taken you on with the idea that you could become better than you already were. 

You’d never gone through an actual interrogation beyond training. 

Fast flinching eyes dart to your superior, chest heaving and adrenaline coating your expression. Blood drips to the floor. 

Soap grinds his teeth and sighs through his nose.

She won’t last like this, he tells himself—blunt and honest. He’d told Price it was a bad idea to let you tag along, and without the reassurance from his fellow, he would have straight-out denied you coming. Too inexperienced. 

This was exactly what he had been worried about. 

But, hell, if that fear in your eyes didn’t make his stomach knot; a heavy rage at the image of your broken skin as all he could do was watch. But it was a silent kind of fury. Weighted with the knowledge of revenge. 

While the man hated dogs, he sure acted like a loyal one. 

“One day,” the Captain tells you—hardened; inflexible. His orbs are like hard steel and his stiff body like rock. “You can take one more day. Just need to focus on me…Copy? I don’t want your eyes to leave me. Not through any of it.”

You push through your haze, staring into his eyes with the vile stench of fear in the air. It was human nature to not want to be harmed. To dread pain and suffering in all senses. 

This man seemed apart from that. 

The Captain grunts, harsher now, “Copy?”

“I-I,” you stutter, lashes fluttering. “I copy, Sir.” 

“Relay.” He barks, watching you closely.

“One day.” Answering immediately, you clear your throat and stifle your whimper of agony—a few of your ribs are broken. “I can make it one more day.”

“Good.” Soap’s accent makes the words clipped and true. Taken as law. “Nothin’ll happen that won’t be repaid. Keep that close, it’ll help.” 

“How many times have you been through this?” Talking helped with the nerves, your focus leaving the sounds in the distant hallways and the loud voices wafting in the vents. The room was cold; you shiver and grimace as your body moved. 

“Too many.” Soap huffs, pulling at his restraints with a heavy hand and growling under his breath when nothing happens. “Comes with the territory, you’ll get used to it.”

You lick your bloodied lips and feel the cuts in them. “...Is that a good or a bad thing, Sir?” 

His lips twitch into a low smirk, shooting you a sly narrowing of his lids. “Well, I’d say that’s up to you now, isn’t it?”

In the grimness and the barbarity, you huff what can be described as a dead woman’s laugh. 

The Captain, still trying to find a loose area of the rope, grits his teeth and utters, “There’ll be no deaths here ‘cept the ones outside this cell, eh? Like I said—focus. When I tell you something, I don’t care how hard it is, you’ll be listenin’ to me. Got that?” 

Footsteps sound up again from beyond, and you tense, eyes flinching wider. Soap grunts out an order and you keep your feral gaze locked on his. Blue eyes bore into you, flaying their meaning deep into your body like you’re made of clay. The uptick in your pulse makes you shake wildly. 

“Keep those eyes right on me. Nothing’s goin' on that’ll kill you, aye?” The door turns and the unlocking of the barrier snaps like electricity up your spine. You want to run, but you know you can’t.

And through it all, you stare straight into Captain MacTavish’s frozen eyes—his strong brow pulled in with authority. He nods his approval with a quick jerk of his head. When the door opens, you can’t help but fear he’s lying.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[illubean]

Request 4 you :-D alright I was wondering if you could do a drabble with a reader with a men ability that makes her similar to a banshe pls😣 (chrollo, illumi, kurapikachu, layoreo, and 🌹feitan🌹)

HXH W/ a Banshee!Reader

Characters: Kurapika Kurta, Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!Reader

alright i did some reading on banshees for this and obviously they have their scream right? but they also have clairaudience, precognition and supernatural detection! p cool if you ask me :D

Warnings: none??

Kurapika Kurta

every time you predict the death of a phantom troupe member he's like fuck yeah

if you work with him you mostly end up gathering info

like you can literally fly super fast, see vaguely into the future and have super cray hearing

i couldn't think of anything for this guy im so sorry...

Leorio Paladaknight

the first time he saw you hovering about he damn near shit his pants because he thought you were genuinely some type of ghost

knowing its just your nen doesn't make him any less scared since you can sense supernatural and paranormal activity...

sometimes you tell him you feel ghosts and whatnot around to fuck with him

he cries

he can't even rant about you to anyone because you WILL hear it

every time he mentions you he has to look around and make sure you're nowhere near him even if he knows you're cities away

sometimes you use your clairaudience to snitch on him LOLLL

he will mutter something under his breath and you'd be like "Leorio just said ____"

you probably told him Gon would die (he didn't actually but almost did) and he didn't believe you at first

bro was like do NOT joke about that and you're like I'm not joking and he's like FUCK

maybe you should stop playing pranks on him because now he finds everything you say hard to believe...

Illumi Zoldyck

you help him catch runners on missions LMAO

if he happens to keep you around you know all of the Zoldyck estate gossip because your clairaudience lets you hear everything that goes on in the mansion

every time you hear something new you and Illumi whisk away to some corner and chat quietly

no matter what you tell him he's surprisingly interested, he can and will gossip like a teenage girl

sometimes when he feels like a job is too much of a hassle he lets you handle it with your death scream thingy

he's not a lazy person but everyone has their moments

you are his personal little ghostlike assistant

Chrollo Lucilfer

yeah he's making you one of the supportive members of the troupe

he uses you to gather information with your heightened hearing and ability to predict the death of others

probably asks you if you can contact the dead

if you can then awesome, now you can answer a lot of his questions but if not then oh well

since you can fly pretty fast sometimes he has you snatch up people for questioning

he avoids using you for offensive purposes because your screams reach very far and could possibly accidentally kill him or the other troupe members

so when he does you're usually alone

you were able to sense that Uvo was going to die and also the exact moment he did

knowing his friend would die didn't make it any less painful for Chrollo tho :(

Feitan Portor

he thinks you're a valuable asset to the troupe

most of the time when it comes to catching people for torture and interrogation Chrollo sends you two

you guys are the perfect team for the job honestly, you can catch enemies quickly and also attack them from long distances while Feitan handles all the gross torture stuff

he probably carries ear plugs for this so yk..you don't accidentally kill him when you scream at the enemy

when you predicted Uvo would die after the first run in with the shadow beasts Feitan is like no way

then all of that shit happens yada yada yada then he goes to fight Kurapika and he actually dies

and Feitan was like fuck you were right

now he knows not to doubt your morbid intuition..

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 x Male reader, they know alot of medical like they use their knowledge of the human body against anyone whom threatens them (or people the care about). They aren't a medic are doctor parday but have extensive knowledge of the field that helps the team. Seem cold uncaring and ruthless but if anyone of them is injured its like a total switch of 'mom bear mode' checking them over the gentle hands and worry.

(Kinda of trope of don't mess with the doctor lol)

Summary: TF 141 reacts to Reader who knows a frightening amount of medical knowledge.

Note: I'm going to do this as more of a headcanons type of post ^^ hope this is good enough! ^^ I did 95% of this all in the last 2 hours

Content: Medical speak, Injuries, Slight Torture, Slightly Bad Medical Research, But I Did Research. Roach Talks.

Word Count: 1085

TF 141 x Knowledgeable in Medic Field M! Reader

Ghost

Probably first heard about your knowledge from Soap talking to him about how terrifying it is to see it come into play

Doesn't believe him.

You've always been good at what you do but have never shown any previous knowledge or interest in the medical field so, who can blame him?

There was also no way you could've went to medical school unless you were years above your usual education range

He finally sees it come into play when you two were 'interrogating' someone.

"If you're gonna stab, don't do it right there. Price said he needs to stay alive."

Ghost looks at you, annoyed. "I've stabbed many people and seen many people survive stab wounds of surrounding areas."

"In lower places of the abdomen and with quicker medical care, if you do it there" You point to where he had the knife, pointed at the tied up man's skin. "It could puncture an intestine and we will be fucked. If you want to stab, move the knife below the belly button...about right... right there. Do not remove the knife once it pierces through."

He did as you said, with questions, but still followed your lead.

From then on he watched everything you did, even noticing that you took care of some of the rookies that ended up with minor cuts and damage that wasn't enough to bother the medics with.

Needless to say, he also ended up coming to you for some patch ups, mostly when he wanted to keep his new damage a secret from Price.

He ended up finding it kind of hot during the interrogation thing so he often asked to do things like that with you again.

Soap

Honestly, probably figured out about your medical knowledge after he was being a dumbass with explosives and almost got hurt.

"Go change into some shorts and a tank top." Your voice was in a serious tone as you went to grab a nearby first aid kit.

"Already wanting to see me strip?"

You just glared at him until he actually left and did what was told.

Despite having only a few scratches, you still cleaned them up as best as you could.

You also went on a rant about it too, about how dumb he was

"Do you realize how dumb you are? What if you actually made a big explosion and a piece of shrapnel flew and hit one of the carotid arteries in your neck?

"My What?"

"Do you realize how fast you would've died? Why weren't you wearing any protective gear?"

"I'm pretty bad at forgetting protection."

If looks could kill, he'd be dead.

That was not the last time you had to clean his wounds, he seems to be a magnet for them.

Asks you more about medical stuff, just to get an idea on how much you know.

You know a lot.

Unsure at this point if he hurts himself in new ways just to hear you yell at him for what dumb way he could've gotten himself killed this time.

Gaz

He falls out of helicopters a lot, that's the truth. What's one more time?

This time (and somehow not the last?) he ended up hurting his foot, you were there the whole time when it happened.

When the both of you were both safe in the safety of a van, you got him to put his leg up so you could check it.

"This is stupid" He mutters, "It's nothing more than it has been in the past."

"Shush, let me concentrate" You mutter feeling around his bootless ankle, nodding your head when you hear him hiss at a pointed touch.

"Any pain when you walk on it?"

"Possibly....yes."

"I'm gonna say it's a sprain for now but I think we should take you to the infirmary after we get back to base. Doesn't seem dislocated. Possible fracture though."

It was just a sprain

Was surprised when you spoke fluent...doctor to the doctor.

Honestly felt like a little kid in the doctor's office, watching his parent's converse with the Doctor telling them what was wrong.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Price

Always knew, almost nothing gets by him unnoticed

Was probably one of the reasons he wanted you on the task force.

He knows how soap and gaz the boys are

Has you teaching rookies how to probably put a tourniquet on.

"What the fuck are you doing? That's not how I taught you."

The rookie you were speaking to just looked down at the dummy that they were working on and the tourniquet, "It looks-"

"Terrible! He's still bleeding out! Retry it."

Definitely has to sit in on these sessions, some rookies have complained to him that you take it too far.

You always just use the excuse that if those were real people and not training dummies, they'd be at fault for letting them die.

He agrees with you.

The rookie looks over at Price.

"Get to it. He told you to retry it. The man is bleeding out."

Mostly just sits in because it's less complaints now that he is showing he agrees with you in front of everyone.

Roach

This fucker needs a friend that has medical knowledge

Much like Soap, it seems like he is a wound magnet

Was probably the first of the 141 that you had to go full protective, medical knowledge out and work on him.

Man's like a tank too, no matter what the day brings to him it seems he's just able to walk it off

You don't let him

"You're limping, sit down."

He just waves it off, "'m good."

"Like hell you are." You walk up to him and grab his wrist, dragging him to a nearby chair and pushing him onto it. "Stay or I'll have Ghost lay on you."

Does not stay.

You cannot get Ghost to lay on him.

You just end up pelting pillows at him until he joins into a pillow fight, and you both end up getting exhausted.

"I'll rest right here."

"Good."

Stubborn but still okay with medical help

Often comes to you with oddly specific questions.

"Hypothetically, if a car blew up in the near vicinity of where I was at, what is the possible health issues that could arise?"

"Well, burn marks obviously, depending on the distance it could be any degree. If it was enough to knock you over, then a possible concussion. Depending if you hit the ground and hard enough, possible broken or fractured bones. Not to even mention the possible pieces of metal and glass flying, and just blast trauma in general. Could cause damage to internal organs with enough force."

"Okay, so...hypothetically, if that happened, I should go to the infirmary?"

"Roach, were you next to a car when it blew up?"

"..."

"Gary???"

You immediately dragged him to the infirmary.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The broadcasts follow prison officials into detention centers to document the mistreatment of prisoners, which seems to be something that the officials — and apparently the viewers — find satisfying rather than revolting. The airing of these snuff films is a demonstration of societal sadism.  As Yumna Patel has recently reported, several rights groups have sounded the alarm over the widespread and systemic abuse that Palestinian prisoners face at the hands of the Israeli authorities. These groups’ calls have been unintentionally buttressed by Israeli soldiers’ unapologetic videos of themselves torturing or demeaning Palestinian detainees, which they boastfully post on social media. Now, it seems that the phenomenon has expanded to mainstream Israeli television. The two aforementioned reports on Channel 14 (threads with subtitles can be found here and here) contained footage of actual interrogation sessions during which torture was used. The Channel 13 report did not, but it exposed some of the worst prison conditions to be broadcast to the public. These conditions include forcing prisoners to live in inhumane conditions and subjecting them to torture and harassment.

[...]

“Here, we see the cells in which the Nukhba terrorists are held,” the narrator says. The “Nukhba” refers to elite Hamas-led fighters who carried out the October 7 attack. In the cell, viewers notice metal bunkbeds without mattresses, and instead of a toilet, there is just a hole in the floor. The room is almost completely dark throughout the day, and prisoners have their hands and legs chained together.  We hear attack dogs barking constantly as prisoners are made to kneel while bound and blindfolded, their heads touching the floor.  “This is how it should be,” a guard says. “This is how a Nukhba prisoner should be…what happened on October 7 will never return.”  In another scene, a guard shouts at prisoners as dogs continue to bark incessantly. “Heads down! Heads on the floor!” he yells.  “There are many prisoners here that I personally saw at the [October 7] events,” a prison official says, taking pride in humiliating them. “The difference is that this time, he is afraid, shaking, with his head on the floor…no Allahu Akbar, nothing. You won’t hear a squeak from him.” “They have no mattresses,” says a warden shift commander. “They have nothing…we control them 100% — their food, their shackling, their sleep…[we] show them we are the masters of the house.” Even without knowing the background to that phrase, to hear him say it is chilling.  “Masters of the house” was the election slogan of Itamar Ben-Gvir, the Jewish Power leader and current Minister of National Security. Ben-Gvir declared war on Palestinian prisoners long before October 7, and this has included shutting down bakeries that supply bread to prisoners — described by Ben-Gvir as an “indulgence” — and drastically limiting prisoners’ water use. So now it’s become much worse. 

[sylvaridreams]

Inhales. You know what gets me when I think about Heart of Thorns. The anti-sylvari sentiment in-universe was SO real for a while there. During the period of time where the whole world of Tyria learned the secret that Wynne had died to protect, that sylvari came from the jungle dragon, that they were made to serve it. Everyone turned on them. Friends, lovers, commanding officers, it didn't matter anymore. They COULD turn mordrem at any time, so you had to assume that they would. You couldn't trust something that belonged to a dragon. Even Laranthir (of the Wild) right after the crash, being held captive by his own people, waiting for him to go feral and tear their throats out. The sylvari Commander was granted a little wiggle room, a little space to walk around freely, but it's all very conditional. Prove you're a good one, that you won't fall to the dragon. There's the event in Verdant Brink where they round up all the sylvari in a camp and ask you to interrogate them, to break them down until they confess to being mordrem. And inevitably a few of them are hiding among the camp, but an equal number of sylvari run from you in fear, more afraid of you and the Pact than the certain death of the jungle beyond. The other innocents that stay don't have a choice. It's keep your head down and don't say anything or be killed, one way or another, while the Commander that you've worked under for the past couple of years interrogates a crying novice, asking if they've heard a voice. And who hasn't heard the voice at that point? The Commander admits to hearing it too. Canach likens it to a buzzing fly. Irritating. Nothing more. Strong willed sylvari don't stumble when Mordremoth speaks. But even that's not true; maybe not everyone's played Heart of Thorns on a sylvari Commander, but the closer you get to the dragon, you start to falter, to black out and lose time. In its domain you actually do fall to it. Briefly. Just for a while, you forget who you are and what you're doing there, and mordrem start giving you killing orders. And you snap out of it and never tell anyone, never. They can't know how close you got.

But what GETS ME is that after the dragon is dead, no one talks about it. It all returns to normal. Like the tension was never there in the first place. I'm sure there might be some loaded quips about sylvari in Living World Season 3 right after, but the next time I actually can recall it coming up is in Path of Fire. Right as you get into Desert Highlands; Canach says something about "I always knew this whole human/gods arrangement wouldn't work out" and Kasmeer shoots back "This coming from someone with a DRAGON in their family tree." And that's that. No one actually really discusses it in-game. They all moved on and don't care if you're a dragon minion or not.

Which. Augh. WHAT!!!!! NO ONE CARES? I'm sure it's a better end-user experience than if everyone you encountered as a sylvari player was like "OOOOOH I DON'T TRUST YOUR TYPE... YOU WRETCHED DRAGON PLANT FOLK" but narratively it's a little boring. At least in the sense that it doesn't feel finished. There should still be tons of anti-sylvari sentiment in Tyria and propaganda spread to force them out of parts of society and stupid hoops to jump through to be considered safe. Just as I think that sylvari should still hold anti-asura sentiment--you're telling me their small second generation had a huge group taken away and tortured to death and there's no ingrained fear of it happening again? I want my sylvari commander to have met Gorrik in LWS4 and been like haha. uh. 😥 (do I really have to work with this guy. An inquest...) (and EVENTUALLY come to like and trust him!) instead of the game plowing over it like oh yeah don't worry about it n_n the facility exploded and all so he doesn't work there now don't worry n_n NO I'M WORRIED!-- again I'm sure that the smoothing over of Everything is a better end-user experience. rather than everyone you meet being rude to you or vice versa. However----💥 (I am killed by a sniper from a long distance so that I stop talking before I begin delving into the prejudices that are already baked into the narrative)

[lovelynim]

More than he gambled for

Honkai: Star Rail - Sunday x Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

Collab with @ticklystuff

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I'm so excited to publish this. Thanks friend ( @ticklystuff ) for bearing me for 2 months, most people would've quitted in the first 48h, but you stayed there.

I had a blast writing this with you and enjoyed every one of our talks during breaks.

ahem, this all started with us thinking about aventurine getting obliterated by two handsome men and here we are. i hope you all like it as well

Summary: What happens in Penacony, stays in Penacony.

Word count: 5208 words

Warnings: N$FW, minor bondage

“Agh,” Aventurine gritted his teeth, using some of his strength to sit back up without using his arms - not that he had an option anyway. “Couldn’t you be a little more gentle, doc?” With mischievous eyes, he looked at the man standing in front of him and, then, to the one a couple steps behind. He wasn’t sure what those two agreed behind his back, but Aventurine knew Ratio was up for something.

Arms restrained behind his back, all the doors that led to the Dreammaster Hall locked and not a soul if not theirs in sight. If this wasn’t Penacony’s dreamscape, Aventurine would dare to say this was some sort of murder attempt. He chuckled, making the other men exchange a confused look - who was he trying to kid? This could be a murder attempt, and how oh-so-exciting it would be if it was actually one. “Please, you’re not going to give me the silent treatment, are you?”

Ratio rolled his eyes, sighing as he had anything but patient to waste on that damned gambler. “You-”

“You’re so confident, Mr. Aventurine. I envy this trait of yours,” Sunday spoke gently, taking a step forward and standing by Ratio’s side. With one hand behind his back, he gestured with the other, continuing his speech. “I was just telling Mr. Ratio about how very appealing you were after your arrival in Penacony. I can’t grant that the Great One would approve your methods, but you sure knew what to do.”

Aventurine’s jaw dropped slightly. A pinch of embarrassment mixed with apprehension and doubt. It was hard to believe that Sunday would actually share the word about their private negotiation, especially with someone like Ratio. But above that, what was even more improbable was the fact that the doctor would bother to hear it. Unless… “Doc, you’re not about to say you got jealous, right?” Aventurine teased despite his position, watching the man keep his serious facade.

Humming a chuckle at the short bickering, Sunday gestured with his free hand as he continued his speech. “It happened to me, Mr. Aventurine, that Mr. Ratio would find it hard to believe just how convincing you can be at certain times. So, I imagined it would be a good idea to show him it.”

…What?

Of all things that crossed his mind when he was first dragged into that room, this was not one of them. A interrogation, a torture session, a stealth assassination - anything! But… “a threesome?” Aventurine chuckled, leaning back into the soft cushions. He definitely did not expect things to come to this.

“But who said anything about having sexual intercourse?” Sunday feigned, tilting his head slightly while Ratio cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “But as you said to me a couple system-hours after our meeting in the Reviere, ‘this is Penacony, for the Amber Lord’s sake, land of dreams. Is it a crime to fuck?’, right?”

Did he say that? Well, the line certainly did sound like something that would slip out of his mouth, Aventurine wouldn’t deny. Yet more perplexing was the fact that this specific comment was what stuck with Sunday all this time, imprinting on the Halovian’s mind. Truth be told, there was a bit of purpose to the question. Why not make the most of his stay? Penacony, land of dreams, a place most sought, yet only accessible to the elite. It would be disingenuous to deny that many individuals here possessed an illustrious charm to their person and, if given the chance, Aventurine wouldn’t turn down a bit of fun. And yet, somehow, by the grace of the Amber Lord maybe, he found himself locked in this very room with what were possibly the two most.. delectable men Penacony had to offer. Apprehension turned thrill, Aventurine licked his lips; perhaps lady luck truly favored him after all.

“Speak, gambler.” Ratio’s voice effortlessly resounded off the walls of the hall, filling the dimly lit room with his presence. The authority behind his voice was something Aventurine had grown accustomed to over time, for better or worse, yet there was a noticeable difference that made its mark, sending a tingle of excitement through Aventurine’s body. “Or has the situation before you rendered that tongue of yours impotent for once?”

Aventurine chuckled, a half-attempt of a shrug with his snugly bound wrists. “Oh please, you know me better than that, Doc,” his voice softer than intended, eyes flitting as the imposing figures glowered over him, “but I’m not sure I’m in the position to say anything, to be quite frank.”

“An astute observation,” Ratio nodded with the usual condescending smile, turning to Sunday. “Mr. Sunday, may I suggest we now show the guest of honor why he’s in this position in the first place? I’m aware of your growing impatience.”

“Oh, but of course,” Sunday said, gesturing one hand to Aventurine’s seated figure. “After you, Dr. Ratio.”

Confidence can oftentimes be described as a double-edged sword: effective at fooling not just others, but oneself as well, and as Aventurine watched the two men take their place by his helpless frame that it dawned on him that perhaps there was something more in store, something underneath that smile Sunday wore well. He could only feign his own weakly, the act he put together quite well crumbling ever so slowly with each passing second, observing as Sunday and Ratio seemingly communicated with their eyes. What he wouldn’t give to hear their thoughts.. or on second thought, perhaps the dark was for the best.

“Poor thing, are you nervous?” Sunday cooed, almost in a lullaby-like tone, while he sat himself by Aventurine's right side. Before the gambler had a chance to voice another smart remark, Sunday gently held his chin, turning Aventurine’s face towards his. Barely inches away from each other, it was nearly impossible for the blonde to stop blood from rushing to his cheeks. “Worry not, for you have nothing but good moments awaiting ahead.”

“S-sure…” Aventurine muttered, hoping the small crack on his confident facade would go unnoticed by the other two. As Sunday’s lips hovered above his, Aventurine closed his eyes, letting his face be guided into a short kiss. For someone as “pure, righteous and collected” as Sunday, the head of the Oak Family was surprisingly skilled with his mouth. This was the second time this thought crossed Aventurine’s mind - with the first being during his first private encounter with Sunday - but he couldn’t help but be just as impressed.

It didn’t take long for the gambler to feel a shift in the cushions by his other side. With no doubts that Ratio had joined the scene, Aventurine tried to relax and let the other man work on him as he pleased. Opening the buttons of his coat, Aventurine felt Ratio’s hands trailing up his torso, adjusting his posture so he would lean his back on Sunday while having his legs resting on Ratio’s lap. “Don’t be shy, doc,” the gambler teased, resting his head on Sunday’s shoulder, feeling his wing gently resting against his jawline. “If anything, you should make mr. Sunday impressed.”

If he was about to get fucked, he might as well let himself enjoy the ride, Aventurine thought. Kicking off his shoes, he kept Ratio between his legs by wrapping one of them around the doctor’s waist. The only thing stopping Aventurine from hugging Sunday by his neck being the cuffs that kept his hands together, the gambler let out a pleased sigh, allowing a smirk to take place in his lips. “You already know the drill, doc, come on. ~”

Behind him, Sunday couldn’t help but to look up to the doctor, as if waiting for an answer after such provocations. The scholar, however, scoffed quietly and towered over the gambler, a wicked grin playing in his lips while his hands pushed Aventurine’s clothes out of his way, getting a hold on the blonde’s bare waist. “You should have held your tongue, gambler.”

Finding himself trapped between the two men, Aventurine clenched his hands - that, thankfully, were out of their sight. He looked down, watching Sunday slide one of his hands down his chest and Ratio rest his palms over his hip bones. The texture of their gloves were different, which added a touch of… uniqueness to each of them. While Sunday’s hands were covered in a delicate fabric, smooth and soft as silk, the contrast between Ratio’s bare fingers and covered palms would constantly capture Aventurine’s attention and interest.

But… Aventurine didn’t expect the other two to be touchy. Not this touchy, at least. “H-hngh… hey, c-can you two be a little less… g-gentle?” Aventurine gasped through gritted teeth, sinking his teeth in his lower lip as Ratio rubbed small circles with his thumbs. “T-this kinda- agh, t-tickles, heh…”

“Mmm, interesting,” Sunday chuckled lowly, the wisp of his breath grazing Aventurine’s skin ever so slightly, sending a trickle down his spine. This in tandem with the incessant caress of Sunday’s fingers, from the curve of his waist to the edge of his pecs, made it difficult to focus on the task at hand and Aventurine would open his mouth to fuss about the excessive display of touchiness, but would curl his lips shut soon after, fighting the unique sensation bubbling at the back of his throat. As if to knowingly further coax the feeling, Sunday’s hand slipped underneath the tight shirt still clad around Aventurine’s torso, repeating the same motion from before, threatening to pop the buttons of his top from below. Sunday’s delicate fingers intricately imprinted on his bare skin, a hint that this was a familiar game he played, and with the slight brush of his gloved hand along Aventurine’s nipple released a shiver through the blond’s body, cascading into a ragged arch of his back that accompanied a mewl Aventurine fought to suppress. 

Had it been Sunday alone, perhaps the ordeal would have been manageable, but there was still Ratio and his own set of hands to contend with. Despite the certain familiarity behind those hands, the subtle differences were all too difficult to ignore. It was almost like Ratio had taken a page out of Sunday’s book, mimicking the gentle strokes that Sunday used to mark all over Aventurine’s torso, a stark contrast from the rougher treatment Aventurine had grown accustomed to. His legs quivered with each passing second, anticipating the Ratio he knew so well to pick up the pace, yet even the doctor seemed caught in the moment, kneading his fingers into Aventurine’s hips, forcing a sharp gasp from the blond as he involuntarily jutted his hips.

“S-Stop th— this nonsense,” his voice wobbled in his throat, pushing back the laughter that only grew the more their hands claimed inches of skin. “It tickles— stop, I-I said it tickles..”

“Ah, our dear peacock seems to be quite the… sensitive one.” The tone in Sunday’s voice, the way in which he emphasized that word— it all pointed to one thing and Aventurine didn’t like that. This wasn’t what he expected, their plaything in such a manner, and Aventurine discovered the more he squirmed, the more he attempted to retract his legs, the closer their bodies pressed into him—

And yet, there existed a distinct kind of tension, a faint presence rooted at the pit of his stomach. Under normal circumstances, this would be no more than a passing thought, a mere blip in his system, yet the feeling budded ever so slightly, nourished by the stimuli plaguing his body, to the point that Aventurine could ignore no longer. For all his efforts, the feeling continued to flower, invoked by the heat of his surroundings, unfurling its petals to propagate through his limbs, his system, an unfamiliar sensation knotting throughout him, yearning to be touched.

And yet, he still fought.

“Perhaps we should’ve taken care to restrain his legs as well,” Ratio expressed irritatedly as Aventurine’s legs continued to jerk, contrasting the subtle whines that escaped the blond’s mouth with each touch.

“And here I thought you’d prefer a bit of a challenge,” Sunday tutted, resting his chin atop Aventurine’s shoulder, as if he wasn’t struggling in his grasp, searching for reprieve from those damned hands. “And to think, we haven’t even really started.”

A death sentence wouldn’t have evoked as much fear as those words did. Aventurine’s jaw opened slightly, struck by realization. Just when he was about to turn his head to look over his shoulder and face Sunday, Aventurine was forced to look back forward by a firm grip on his chin. 

“Is there something troubling you, gambler?” Unlike Sunday’s, Ratio’s voice was firm, demanding, almost as if he was scolding Aventurine. The blonde opened his mouth to retort - his body moving faster than his thoughts - but instead of words, something he had been fighting so hard to repress came out: a giggle.

Distracted by Ratio’s sudden approach, Aventurine failed to notice Sunday’s hands slipping further inside his shirt, reaching for the soft skin of his sides and prodding at those spots - on both sides, at the same time. And as he was caught off guard, a short, breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“Oh?” Sunday mused, arching his eyebrows in a pleasant - at least, for him - surprise. “Did you hear that, mr. Ratio?”

No, no, no, no, no!

A million thoughts rushed through Aventurine’s mind, as if he and the other two were all frozen in time at that moment. The gambler looked up to see the doctor’s face and felt his heart sink inside his chest when he noticed those amber eyes he knew oh-so-well weren’t looking at him, but rather past him.

“R-Ratio,” Aventurine wheezed, with a dozen of other words stuck at the back of his throat, “don’t even think about tha-AHAT!” His body jerked violently, arching his spine when Sunday dug his fingers just below his lowest rib again.

“I beg your pardon, mr. Aventurine, but I was talking to mr. Ratio,” Sunday cooed into his ear, making the blonde grit his teeth. Aventurine felt frustrated, humiliated even, but also… thrilled.

“Yes, I did,” Ratio scoffed, roughly yanking his hand down Aventurine’s torso, ripping off all the buttons of his expensive shirt that were in the way. “But I can’t say I’m anywhere near impressed, mr. Sunday. He has always been ticklish. Awfully ticklish, if you ask me. So this reaction is anything but unexpected.”

Aventurine groaned quietly, feeling a faint heat spread across his face after being exposed, both physically and verbally, like that. He slightly scrunched up his shoulders, as if trying to sink into his own body. If he was a little more flexible, he would have pulled his leg back just to land a kick on Ratio’s handsome face. That bastard, how could he be handing such a valuable, classified intel like that?

“I see,” Sunday chirped content, sliding his hands up and towards the middle of Aventurine’s torso, palming at the underside of his chest. “He seems to know you really well, mr. Aventurine. I bet you two get along well,” he teased, humming a chuckle while his fingers tapped at the top of his abs, making the blonde tremble with anticipation.

“N-no such thi- ah! W-wahahit! R-Ratio, ahAHAh, n-nohoh!!”

“I would appreciate it if you could spare me of your monologues, mr. Sunday,” Ratio snapped, planting his hands back at Aventurine’s waist and drawing both men’s attention back to him. Thumbs dug just above where Aventurine’s bones would be while the rest of Ratio’s fingers prodded and vibrated against his lower sides and back. 

“You already have plenty on your hands, no?” The scholar continued, casually ignoring Aventurine’s loud, panicked pleas between his laughter.

Sunday clicked his lips, pondering about what would be a proper response. “By the Great One, doctor, it seems that I struck not just mr. Aventurine’s nerves, but yours too,” he teased, grinning at the sight of Ratio frowning.

Still, he couldn’t really deny that he, indeed, had plenty in his hands already. Sunday clawed at Aventurine’s sides, slowly working his way up the blonde’s ribs and, much to the gambler’s horror, managing to worm his fingers under Aventurine’s arms.

“H-hey, hehey!!” Aventurine whined, throwing his head back into Sunday’s shoulder and kicking one of the nearby cushions as he squirmed. “F-fucking stahahap this shihihit!” Aeons, it tickled. It tickled so bad it made him want to crawl out of his skin. It tickled so bad that he… wanted more? 

“Mr. Sunday,” Ratio tutted, “bear in mind that I do not entertain lowly provocations, especially from beings such as yourself,” his voice chided the other, working his hands over Aventurine’s thighs at the same time, “though, if it humors that pigeon brain of yours, my most recent observations confirm that you perhaps possess an inkling of expertise when handling our gambler here.”

“I presume a compliment from you is but a rare occurrence, which explains mr. Aventurine’s display of lonely behavior the other day,” Sunday commented with a hint of playfulness, but full of second intentions. His voice, however, barely audible over Aventurine’s laughter, just loud enough to make his message clear to the scholar, “but I am no man to refuse such courtesy— I humbly accept the praise, mr. Ratio.”

Throughout all this, Aventurine’s pleas fell on deaf ears, begging to be granted even a shred of mercy from the hands that were seemingly everywhere. And yet, if one could take a bird’s eye view of the situation, one would be able to observe the way Aventurine sunk into Sunday’s hold, his legs clinging tighter to Ratio’s body, head lolling to the side, body twitching to the source of the sensations, seemingly begging for more, unbeknownst to Aventurine himself. Each poke, each prod, each pinch, invoked a string of pleasure, wringing together into a jumbled mess that brought both confusion and.. excitement.

“Waihah- stop! Stahahap, I-I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can. Yes.. you can,” Sunday cooed smoothly, his breath warm against the tip of Aventurine’s ear. His hands traveled the length of Aventurine’s torso freely, no longer restricted by the tight shirt from before, taking liberties in how he tormented the blond. Digs to his ribs, a squeeze to his side, learning Aventurine’s body with his hands. A yelp escaped his lips right when Sunday’s hand reached for his exposed nipple and Sunday’s intrigued ‘ah’ that followed made Aventurine want to curl up if he could. Having caught his interest, Sunday’s fingers continued to roll what seemed like his new favorite spot in between his thumb and index finger and Aventurine shifted and squirmed underneath his touch, almost as if Sunday had complete control of his body with one simple movement, all while still digging into Aventurine’s underarm. 

And Ratio.. his damned hands at his thighs, digging into them ravishingly. He looked upwards to face the doctor, mouth agape with laughter, hoping his eyes could convey that he just needed this to fucking stop, yet the slight grin that crossed Ratio’s face was enough for Aventurine’s stomach to sink. The man clearly found amusement in Aventurine’s reactions, squeezing harder with each shriek, keeping the slim legs apart whenever Aventurine would attempt to protect the sensitive inner regions, all while keeping that delighted gaze locked with Aventurine’s own helpless one.

“R-Ratio, pleHEHEase! Stop! Just— staHAHap!” The fingers at his thighs combined with Sunday’s special attention to his pecs was too much, past the point of overstimulation. His body felt weightless, head fuzzy from the high coursing through his veins. His struggles withered away, slumped back in their hold as the tickling continued on, and on, and on..

Until it didn’t.

“...Oh.”

It took a moment for Aventurine’s brain to register that the hands had come to a gradual halt— first were the ones at his thighs, then Sunday’s hands at his upper-body. He laid there, eyes glazed over, aimlessly following the blurred stars dance across the ceiling. Although the tickling had stopped moments ago, light giggles still flowed from his mouth, thinning out into the occasional heavy intake of breath as Aventurine took in his break.

“You seem perplexed, doctor,” mused Sunday. “Is something the matter?”

Through half-lidded eyes, Aventurine took in Ratio’s inquisitive gaze, almost like he was focusing on Aventurine, yet not. “Mr. Sunday, it appears that our gambler here has something to share with the two of us.”

Spent of energy, all Aventurine could manage in response was a half head-tilt, rolling the back of his head along the lining of Sunday’s chest, head too hazy to follow along, though it soon became clear what Ratio was referring to. Aventurine’s eyes jolted open and a choked gasp filled the air following the feeling of Ratio’s hand grazing his crotch…. or rather, what was there. 

“W-Wait, Ratio, no.. no, don’t, pleas- hAH!” Aventurine’s legs twitched as Ratio’s palm began methodical rubs against the tented pants, gentle pressure to stimulate his already hardened member. Sharp intakes of breath were all that Aventurine could cling to in an attempt to control himself with the rising heat overtaking his body. His eyes once again locked with Ratio’s own, shaking his head in plea, yet the scholar carried on, using his free hand to keep Aventurine’s thighs from clasping together, while the other continued to feel.. touch.

“Ah, I see, I see,” Aventurine could make out a chuckle from behind him, before fingers made their way to the base of his chin, turning his head to face Sunday’s amused smile once more. “What a turn of events— I suppose the course of action is clear.” Breathy whines filled the air as Sunday’s own free hand came into play, palming Aventurine along with Ratio, as if the two men were competing for his attention. “Doctor, if you’d care to do the honors.”

“Gladly.”

It all happened so quickly– first his belt and thigh strap tossed to the side, followed by the graze of fabric shifting against his skin. Despite his earlier demeanor, Ratio was surprisingly gentle throughout the whole process, slowly stripping Aventurine’s legs with care, bending and straightening his limbs with delicacy as he worked away at his pants. While one hand tugged at the fabric, the other would trail along, feeling along the newly bare skin, akin to a merchant threading his fingers through the finest silk, continuing until Aventurine’s feet had slid through his pants, socks discarded in the process. 

All the while, Sunday’s fingers treaded the outline of his boxers, toying with the elastic, before burrowing underneath. A short whimper slipped through Aventurine’s mouth the moment he felt Sunday’s thin fingers wrap around his cock. “Hmmm~” Sunday hummed, contrasting the series of frantic breaths that only grew in beat with each passing second. His body jerked with each complete circle that Sunday teased along the head, as if the other man had complete control over Aventurine’s body through a singular rhythm. Even as Ratio’s own fingers hooked around the hem of Aventurine’s boxers, Sunday’s hand never left ownership, keeping Aventurine his plaything till the last layer discarded.

“...s-stop staring,” Aventurine sobbed quietly, his chin pressing down at the middle of his chest as if it was somehow hiding him from the other two - that only seemed to grow more amused at his reactions. His dick, however, stood up proudly, contrasting its owner. It clearly enjoyed the attention it was getting and, of course, it craved for more. Aventurine felt his body burning under the two piercing gazes that surrounded him and, to the death of the last bits of his pride, he didn’t even need to look at Ratio’s or Sunday’s faces to know where they were looking.

He wanted to close his legs shut, kick the doctor in the face and punch the family’s head as he ran away. He wanted to want to fight back, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. As much as he would rather die than admit he got hard because he was tickled, Aventurine knew that his body - that had already betrayed him - would never miss such a chance.

Before these thoughts could occupy any more room inside his head, the feeling of another hand joining Sunday’s around his cock brought him back to reality. Aventurine bit his lower lip, his pupils quickly moving up to Ratio’s face and down to his own erection. “Is something troubling you, gambler?”

“I assume there must be a lot crossing mr. Aventurine’s mind right now,” Sunday answered, humming a chuckle sweetly as he pressed his cheeks against the blonde’s. “Should we help him release some?”

Aventurine wished he could snap back at that, say something and prove Sunday wrong, but, again, he didn’t. Barely any sound came from his gaping mouth and, taking his silence for an answer, the men continued to toy with him.

Sunday closed his palm around the tip of Aventurine’s dick, carefully rubbing circles over the spot as he massaged it, almost fluttering his digits over the skin of the blonde’s length. Ratio, in the meantime, wrapped his fingers around the hard cock - tight enough to force a whimper out of Aventurine’s mouth - and began to stroke it, up and down and up and down, methodic like the man himself.

A sweet, but restrained moan poured from Aventurine’s lips. A shiver ran up his spine, carrying enough pleasure to make his back arch and his toes curl. 

“It must be heavenly, no?” Sunday cooed, his free hand resting over Aventurine’s stomach while the other worked nonstop to please him. “The attention, the care, the pleasure… I know you’re fond of those, mr. Aventurine,” he continued, making Aventurine feel safe, reassured, validated. Despite all the warnings and recommendations regarding Sunday’s figure before his current mission, here he was, leaning into his touch and giving himself to the fullest.

Still, something was missing. Something of ultimate importance for his pleasure and that, until not long ago, made itself present during his engagement with the other two. With teary, half-opened eyes, Aventurine stared at Ratio, hoping this would be enough to deliver the message. “D-doc, h-hah… ple-ehease…”

The scholar sighed. Should his and Sunday’s places switch, Aventurine’s needy mumbling wouldn’t carry as much meaning as they did. Ratio moved his other, hooking it under one of the blonde’s legs before caressing the smooth, tender skin. “Is this what you want, isn’t it, gambler?”

Not giving Aventurine the chance to even nod at his question, Ratio squeezed the back of his thigh, pinching and digging in a way that made Aventurine’s head spin and his lips curl into a smile. 

“N-nohot so h-hahard, hhngh… doctor, b-be nihihice, ahh…”

Sunday, left out of their conversation, couldn’t help but to allow a slight smile to take place on his lips. “Yes, mr. Ratio,” he added to Aventurine’s pleas, beginning to trace circles and tickle around the blonde's navel while pre-cum slowly soaked the palm of his glove, “mr. Aventurine demands quite the care when dealing with him, isn't that right?”

“H-hehey, don't- ahhgh… S-Suhunday- s-low dohohown! ThaHAHahat's t-too muhuhuch!”

“Peculiar that he still holds himself to a position of authority,” Ratio scoffed, addressing only Sunday, yet his eyes stayed honed on Aventurine, as if scrutinizing the sorry state he found himself reduced to, “though I suppose a modicum of reprieve can be permitted.”

“I believe we are in agreement, then,” Sunday mused, and Aventurine could feel a shift as Sunday leaned in, murmuring against the tip of his ear once more. “You hear that, peacock? We’re almost there…”

“I- hah-hahaaAAH! Pl-please.. m-mm,” Aventurine stuttered, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in a vain attempt of holding the little dignity he had left at that point. He circled his lips, thrusting his dick into Sunday and Ratio’s hands, nearly demanding more.

Protests morphed to pleas, Aventurine’s own voice was foreign to him as he traversed the unfamiliar form of pleasure, steadily losing himself in the ripples. The hands were seemingly everywhere, intricately driving a string of sensations that pooled at the base of his crotch, constantly feeding attention to his shaft that craved for more. Even the slightest of touches were enough to set Aventurine off, evident by the way his body desperately pushed into those hands, seeking relief in what once brought him torment. Helpless whimpers spilled past his lips, unrestrained in nature as the seconds passed. Just.. a little longer…

Tickles and strokes, teases and squeezes. Aventurine's head spun under all that attention, losing track of what made sense and what didn’t. All he could feel was that heat swirling in his lower stomach, underneath the fingers seeing those electric sensations that made him smile and moan like an idiot. 

He could feel it, it was right there.

“A-hAHAh, I-I’m c-cumming! I- hnngh! Ahh!!”

A sharp gasp struck through the air as Aventurine screwed his eyes shut, the dam reaching its collapse. Waves of pleasure began pouring through his body as he arrived at his climax, seeping into his nerves like sweet honey, rendering all other stimuli null. Shots of seed dirtied his chest and the hands that adored him so, finally acquiring what they sought. Aventurine relaxed back into Sunday’s hold, dots of color popping into his vision as his eyes stared listlessly into the ceiling of the hall. His legs trembled ever so slightly, recovering from the aftermath that he was finally free from.

Or so he thought. 

“W-Wait.. stop! Stop it! Please- aH! A-AhahaHAHAHA! NOHOHO!”

A moment of respite and nothing more, the hands were at full vigor even more than before. Contrary to the previous bout of tickling, there seemed to be a silent agreement between Ratio and Sunday, as if both simultaneously came to the conclusion that play time was over.

What used to be light teases and subtle jabs became rougher digs and squeezes into the delicate skin. Each press against the surface created their own butterfly effect, setting a ripple that spread through his nerves, igniting each one so that the next could be set in greater ablaze. Compounded with the post-orgasm sensitivity, Aventurine’s body felt like it was on fire, absorbing every touch from the fingers that seared him, as if the sensations melted past his skin and coursed through his body to send him into sensory overload. Even the cool air of the hall was enough to make his body tingle.

“P-PLEASE!” Aventurine whined, overwhelmed. “N-no mOHOhore! I-it’s too m-much! AHAahah, f-fuck!” He tried to squirm, but each of limbs felt like they weighed ten times more. It tickled too much, it felt too good.

“You should know best between the three of us that there’s always a price to pay,” Ratio answered as he routinely pressed his calloused thumbs into the divet of Aventurine’s bare hips, speaking with a sadistic grin that made things all the worse. “I mean, this is what you wanted, right, gambler?”

“Besides,” Sunday spoke, licking the shell of his ear while his cum-soaked palm continued to rub Aventurine senseless, “mr. Ratio and I were only working for your pleasure. It’s time you do your share for us, right?” He chuckled, making Aventurine’s eyes roll inside his skull.

“Hold still, little peacock. For the night is still too short…”

[antiqua-lugar]

Tumblr refuses to let me reblog a post referencing Wyll saying that as a child his father told him that their dead love ones were always watching over them and Wyll's reaction was to be scared. He thought he was haunted.

The idea of Wyll being genuinely scared of wide-eyed ghosts in response to what probably was his father's attempt to console him over his mother's death is. His loved ones not as a consolation but as a reminder, as an audience - possibly as someone judging him, because ghosts cannot move on until their unfinished business is resolved. Especially because his mother also haunts the narrative, in her own way? She's first defined by her absence, Wyll doesn't talk or think of her much because she died giving birth of him. Except he reveals that he has been thinking of her recently, specifically contrasting her to his father. He's been thinking about how his life could have been different had she been there. Wyll is always very adamant that he doesn't regret anything, he can't, because it means regretting all the good he has done and all the lives he has saved. Is his mother's death one of the things he is not supposed to regret, because had she been alive then none of this would have happened and he would still have been in Baldur's Gate with his family, not a hero but happy and whole...but then dozens of people would have been dead and dozens of devils would still be living? Are his good deeds, like his dead loved ones, haunting him? Especially since he keeps contrasting his father and mother, public vs private, duty vs personal happiness, throught the whole of Act 3, culminating with his romance scene in Act 3, where his mother's memory is directly tied to his proposal. I know some people said the writers just straight up forgot he never met her, but I just assumed he is simply recalling what his father used to say abut her, just like he always repeats his father words, which instead are curiously absent from the whole thing. We are never told why his father never married his mother while Wyll will marry the person he loves no matter who that person is - Bhaalspawn, vampire spawn , Great Liberator of the Githyanki people, former Sharran with a degree in torture and interrogation - and it would have been so easy to bring his fathers' words in his romance, to say anything at all about duty, but no, only his mother's words matter in his romance. I know this probably IS a result of the rewrite, but the complete absence of his father in favour of his mother in his romance arc, which is the ONE arc that is entirely all about Wyll's personal desires? Like The Blade of Frontier is a hero from the legends, Wyll Ravengard is someone who wants to be in a romance. It's perhaps his only indulgence, to have a love story as he wishes. On some level he compares it to his childhood dreams, and he says it's his greatest wish, as if the idea of the person he loves staying at his side forever cannot possibly be something he actually gets to keep. And not only then he does, but his romance scene only triggers after Ansur after he (in his good ending) has just refused his father and the world of politics to remain the Blade The themes in his arc. don't get me started on mizora being a dark mirror version of his mother

[leftistfeminista]

Israel tied a Palestinian coed into a banana position during her menstrual period while denying her underwear or tampons

In a long corridor, Israeli intelligence operatives were standing and clapping sarcastically as jailers were taking handcuffed Mays Abu Ghosh to a military interrogation cell.

“They were mocking me, saying I'd die in the interrogation,” Mays told Anadolu Agency.

Amid her menstrual cycle, Mays was tied to the chair by her hands and ankles and stretched her body into a banana shape for hours, making it impossible to sleep.

“I wasn’t able to walk, the jailers were holding me to the cell,” Mays added.

May's hands were constantly bleeding due to the shackles. She refused to be subjected to another military interrogation session, so the intelligence officer grabbed Mays and slammed her against the wall.

Mays continued: "They didn't provide me with any tampons or undergarments I needed in this delicate period for any woman in the world."

33 days of torture

Gosh, 24, of the Qalandiya refugee camp, is a journalism and media student at Birzeit University who was arrested on Aug. 29, 2019, and then subjected to horrific torture in solitary confinement for 33 days at Al-Maskobya Interrogation Center.

During her confinement at the notorious facility, she lost 12 kilograms (26.5 pounds).

“The officers were constantly trying to convince me that I had gone insane and was trying to kill myself, so they brought social workers, but they were actually other officers,” Mays recounted.

When those officers were in the cell with Mays, she showed them the wounds and bruises she suffered as a result of the abuse she had been subjected to and asked them: "Who wants to kill another person? I'm a student, and you're detaining me."

Mays frequently asked for painkillers to alleviate the pains in her head and muscles, but she was usually denied.

During the interrogation sessions, the officers deliberately forced Mays to hear the screams of detainees subjected to physical torture in military interrogation, while also threatening her that what would happen with her would be even more horrible.

“They threatened me that I'd be out here either dead or paralyzed, and they threatened to rape me too,” she said.

Mays was not allowed to wear a hair scrunchie because the officers were constantly beating, punching, kicking, smacking, and pulling her hair.

“I was tearing the plastic bag they put breakfast food in and using its strips to tie down my hair, but they were taking it from me,” Mays recounted.

Mays was kept in one of the cells for several days with a bug rat that lurked in the sewers and attacked her while she was sleeping, indicating a high risk of infection transmission to Mays.

She was completely isolated for 33 days, unable to communicate with any lawyers or human rights groups. She lived in terrible conditions due to the constant torture she was subjected to, as well as the filthy cell where sewage overflowed, soaking her thin sleeping mattress.

Horrific tales of Palestinian girls in Israeli jails

PALESTINIAN journalism student Mays Abu Ghosh has been tortured in an Israeli jail, her family alleged today as human rights groups warn of systemic abuse of prisoners by authorities.

Her mother said Ms Abu Ghosh’s face was “full of bruises” and barely recognisable after 30 days of interrogation at the notorious Moscovia detention centre in Jerusalem.

“I could not hug her due to the pain hurting all of her body,” she explained.

Ms Abu Ghosh, who is studying at Bir Zeit University, has been held in prison since August 28 when she was detained along with five other young Palestinians.

She has been campaigning against the torture and treatment of Palestinian prisoners held in Israeli jails.

According to Addameer, Ms Abu Ghosh was forced into a number of stress positions during her interrogation, including the so-called “banana.”