#WHAT DO YOU THINK A FORTIFICATION IS FOR | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storydays · 1 month

Text

Hello Rosie! P3

(3rd POV)

*With Charlie*

"Alright, what has you so out of sorts, darlin'?" Rosie asked, letting Charlie into her private room. "You clearly got more on your mind than angels."

"What do you do when someone you love lies to you about who they are?" Charlie sighed, hugging herself. "Romance? My specialty. C'mon, dearie, details, details!" smiled the cannibal.

"My girlfriend is an exorcist angel...and she never told me."

"Oh, shit. Quite a secret. How does that make you feel?"

"Just...angry...because we share everything. Because she always supported me, and my ideas, and now I just don't know whether or not that was more of the lies.." Charlie gasped, eyes wide. "Oh no, that's a horrible thing to think! Do I think that? Yes! N--No? Kinda?" the princess sobbed slightly, feeling overwhelmed in her feelings.

"You said you love this girl?" Rosie asked softly.

"Yes...or, well, I..yes." Charlie nodded more firmly, knowing she still loves Vaggie. "Aw. Have you ever once doubted that she loves you in return?" Rosie sat next to Charlie, patiently waiting for her repsonse.

The blonde shook her head no.

"Well, then what's the problem?"

"She took part in the very thing we've been working so hard to end. She might've even been the one who killed my brother's ex-fiance!" Charlie's eyes widen at the thought.

"Well, isn't that silly hotel of yours all about redemption?"

"Yes?"

"Perhaps this girl was trying to redeem herself too?" Rosie hummed. "She knows better than anyone that I believe in second chances. Why not tell me?" wondered Charlie.

"It can be difficult to admit to things you're not proud of, especially if those things hurt the ones you love. She fucked up, sure, " Rosie smiled brightly, "She's flawed. But hey, who down here isn't? If there's anything I've learned, it's that words are cheap, but actions, they speak the truth."

The demoness' shared a smile. "So, what have her actions said?" Rosie asked, with a knowing smile.

"That she believes in me and what we're doing. Right now, she's off learning how to protect everything we've worked for..and I can't even pitch my hotel right." Charlie smiled, thinking of the ex angel before groaning at her own actions.

"Well, how do you normally explain your hotel?"

"By singing," Charlie smiled giving jazz hands before deflating, "but that never works."

"It will work here, trust me."

With that promise, they walked back out to the crowd, Alastor offering Charlie his microphone staff, he and Rosie sending the princess soft, encouraging smiles.

*Back at the hotel*

Charlie and Vaggie lead their groups back to the hotel approaching each other. "Looks..like you've had a busy day." Vaggie said, looking over Charlie's shoulder, making Charlie do the same. "You too."

"Charlie, I--"

"Hold that thought." Charlie dug in her pocket before holding out a key chain to Vaggie. "Ah! I got you a souvenir from Cannibal Town." The Princess smiled hopefully at Vaggie.

The ex angel smiled, teary eyed before rushing forward into her girlfriend's waiting arms. "Oh, Charlie."

Charlie smiled, before eyeing the wings on Vaggie's back. "The wings are new. They look nice," purred the princess, sending Vaggie bedroom eyes, before wrapping an arm around her waist, "C'mon, let's go home."

Together they walked into the hotel, gasping at all the noise and chatter. "Come along, let's put some efforts into these fortifications." Sir Pentious called, leading his Egg Bois. "Yeah, fortify that." Angel called, before turning to see the demonesses.

"Well, look who decided to show up." Angel smirked, pulling Husk and Pentious into his arms, "We thought we were fightin' ourselves."

"You're..you're still here?" Vaggie asked in awe, Charlie teary eyed next to her.

"What? Do you think we were a bunch of pusssssies?" scoffed the snake.

"I just got used to you guys, I ain't findin' no new drinking buddies." Husk smirked.

"I've named all the stains on the carpet, that one's Fred." giggled Niffty. "Well, looks like we have a lot of work to do." Charlie smiled, holding Vaggie's hand.

"Wait, why are you all covered in bruises? And where's (Y/N)?" Vaggie asked, looking for her future brother in law.

"Uh, well.." Angel started before smiling seeing (Y/N) land behind the demonesses.

"Boo! Bitch asses!" yelled (Y/N), making the two women yell in surprise. The Prince cackled in delight, as the two got a good look at him: He was also covered in bruises, mud and what appeared to be a bloody nose? But he was grinning wildly.

"Oh, did you put them through your training?" Charlie asked, making her brother grin excitedly. "Fuck yes! And now, they are better warriors then they were a few hours ago. But how'd your day go? I see Carmie and Ro-Ro gave you supplies." (Y/N) started talking fast, before Charlie cut him off.

"Wait, Carmie and Ro-Ro? You mean Carmilla and Rosie?"

"No, Char, I said what I said." (Y/N) rolled his eyes before giggling to himself, and talking fast again to Vaggie, who looked so confused. "Yeah, he's been like this since we finished training a few hours ago." Angel chuckled, as he made his way over to his excitable lover, as (Y/N)'s wings and tail moved around excitedly.

"Yeah, it's the adrenaline. Dad says (Y/N)'s always been like that after fighting in general. He'll crash soon, but it'll help if he is given affection. He's like a cat sometimes." Charlie giggled, thinking of all the times she'd messed with her brother when he was like this.

"All right, Prince-y. Let's get you to bed." Angel scooped up the blond demon, who cuddled close to Angel, still talking.

"IoveCharlieandVaggieandandHuskandMomandVelvetteandCarmieandNifftyandAlastorandDadandArcherbutArcherdoesn'tlovemeanymorebuthat'sokaybecauseIhavethemostsexypowerbottomloverAngelDustwhoserealnameisAnthonyandfuckthat'shotasfuck.Angelcanwefuck?IwannamakeyoucumsohardValentinoisjustamemory...."

Everyone looked at each other before laughing what the prince was saying. "Please tell me you're recording this?" Angel asked Charlie as he cackled, holding his (Y/N) closer, as he now played with his own tail, eyes wide in amazement.

"Yep." Charlie grinned, sending it in the group chat.

"Good night, guys." Angel called, chuckling occasionally, walking upstairs. "Oh, my love, what will I do with you?" the spider asked, as (Y/N) looked up at him with wide eyes. "Marry me?" he asked softly.

Angel cooed, "Aw, of course I will, bambino."

*End!*

#storydays #hazbin hotel x reader #x male reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #princemorningstar #hazbin hotel fandom

63 notes · View notes

beansricejc · 8 months

Text

John Wick x F!Reader: Fake It

summary: AU, in a post apocalyptic world, John has assigned himself a daunting task. he buys you off of a group of raiders, and you don’t necessarily have a choice when he has you help with his mission. in fact, it’s either your help, or his wrath. 5382 words.

warnings: unprotected piv, NONcon, fuck or die, breeding k!nk, creampie, cursing, threats of violence, firearms, human trafficking, forced breeding, kidnapping. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat! Minors DNI. not proofread!

author’s note: here’s to my darkest yet, if you like this one, please support me by liking and reblogging, Ty!

The infection spread efficiently and ruthlessly. Originating at a scientific testing facility in Toronto, it didn’t take very long for the world to go to shit. Zombies made life a hell of a lot worse for everyone on the planet.

And 5 years later, the population declined by 70 percent. Everyone surviving now was either in some sort of encampment, a survivor in the wasteland, or, in John’s case, in a repopulation center.

About fifty miles north of Rock Springs, Wyoming, is a fortification built by John and as the group of men that all had the same goal.

Survive.

Soon enough, they made a name for themselves after trading with raiders who would snatch up female survivors. John was picky. They needed to be healthy, with good genetics, and the ability to carry a child. Just because you had a pussy didn’t just mean free access to the compound, there were standards.

So when a truck full of raiders pulled up to the large gates of John’s fortress and dragged you out of it, John’s immediately intrigued. You’re kicking and screaming into the duct tape gag over your lips, definitely not making it easy for the three burly men to hoist you over for John to inspect you.

Your eyes widen at the middle aged man with long hair, it’s slicked back in a ponytail and he’s got a full beard. He honestly reminds you of those vinyl hipsters before the infection, but meaner.

His sharp brown eyes scan your body, he likes what he sees. Of course you don’t know this, no one does, for John is a master at hiding his emotions.

“She’ll do.” John states plainly, standing up straight and facing the raiders. ‘She’ll do’ was the understatement of the year, he was absolutely attracted to you. Of course he can’t let that show, otherwise the raiders will demand more items to trade you for.

“100 rounds of 9 millimeter ammunition, and four medical packs. I’ll even throw in three gallons of gasoline.” John offers, the raiders immediately grunt in agreement, the leader shaking John’s hand to seal the deal.

You’re still kicking and struggling against your restraints, refusing to be auctioned off like a damn cow. Oh if only you knew what you were in for.

In reality, John has never used his own sperm for his repopulation project. It’s only been his own men, which he has plenty of. His fortification’s ratio of women to men is 1:15, which just goes to show how rare females are in the apocalypse. Women are a hot commodity, and no amount of feminist waves are going to stop that. Men will be men, thirsting over the opposite sex, and once they lay their eyes on one? They’ll stop at nothing to get a piece.

Revolting to think about but it’s just the truth. It is the end of the world after all.

“Take her to my quarters. Now.” John orders his group of men, which two of them scoop you up from the dirt road as you squirm and scream into your gag. John sees your futile determination, and it lights a fire within him.

If he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard in front of everyone at the gate.

John cleared his throat and walked ahead, trying to think of quite literally anything else as he attempted to get his mind off of you, and hearing your muffled pleas for mercy don’t help him in the slightest. A tingle trickles down his long spine, and the little hairs on his arm rise as goosebumps begin to form, just from hearing your voice.

“Shit.” He murmured to himself, as he books it to the nearest building, he needs to distract himself quickly.

John’s men heave you into his personal cabin, plopping you down on the comfy vintage looking couch in the corner. You grunt and the men scurry out of the cabin. They know better than to look at John’s new prize.

Little do any of them know, you’re a fighter. Surviving in the wasteland alone is an impressive feat. A feat you have only overcome because you’re tough as hell. You can hunt, scavenge, shoot, stab, whatever it takes to survive, you can do it. The only reason why you’re here in the first place is because 5 grimy raiders jumped you while you were resting in an abandoned building. You felt pathetic, now in the predicament of a lifetime.

There were a few options.

You knew this fancy trick where you could dislocate your own shoulder blades in order to force your arms to be in front of you instead of being bound from behind. Painful but quick, then you could take your gag off and then thrust your arms into your own torso. The fast motion and force would tear the tape from your hands.

But then there were all of the men outside. There was about, what? 30, 40 men from what you could count when the two guards brought you inside. There were women too, not very many though, and for some odd reason, they were all pregnant.

Noticeably so.

You were good at killing, but 40 all at once? You didn’t have a chance in hell.

So, either a suicide mission, or you could wait it out and see what the hell was going on.

You decide on the latter.

Not to mention, those raiders stole all of the equipment and weapons that you had. So that fucking sucks.

Waiting it out sucks too. You may or may not have dozed off on the old comfy couch, your taped face resting against the floral patterned fabric while you rested. Awoken only by the soft sound of the wooden door creaking open, you decided to fake being asleep. Maybe it would give some sort of insight on what the hell was going to happen to you.

John’s boots squeak over the wooden flooring, he groans and immediately goes for the large glass bottle that was sealed underneath the small sink in his cabin.

John’s living space is very nice compared to the other residents in his compound. It’s about 750 square feet of a cabin that looks like it’s straight from the 70s. The small home is of course run on a solar powered generator, providing semi luxury living in the apocalypse.

You noticed this when you were scanning the place for any noticeable weapons to use to your advantage. Unfortunately there wasn’t much.

Nothing out in the open anyway. You continue to fake sleep, laying down on the couch with your pretty eyes closed.

John grunts as he flips through a stack of papers, figuring you would be asleep when he arrived. He knows you’ve been tied up in here for about three hours. The man takes a few steps over towards the couch, looking over it and staring at your lying figure. His heart rate goes up by a few beats.

“Gorgeous, might have to keep you for myself.” John mumbles under his breath, you catch the comment.

John looks at his papers, scribbling a few words down. While he looks at your sleeping face, he debates on whether to wake you up or not. He does. John’s large and calloused hand runs through your hair for a moment, and now you can’t help but open your eyes. This gives you a good time to study your captor’s facial features, he’s towering over you at the moment.

His back bends over and his hand that rubbed your head is now ripping the duct tape off of your mouth as if it were a bandaid. Yelping, you glare at him and clench your jaw.

“Hey shithead, that fucking hurt!” You cough out, gritting your teeth. His stoic expression seemed to lighten for a whole three seconds before he jotted something down on that stack of papers, before sitting in a recliner that was against a wall.

His jeans rub against the leather of the seat, and his brown eyes never leave you, paying even more attention when you manage to wriggle your way up into somewhat of a seated position.

“You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here.” John’s voice is gravelly, and he even seems a bit awkward. “I’m sorry, I typically don’t do anything with intake. Made an exception this time.”

You frown, more confused than anything.

John’s hands fumble with the stack of papers that’s in his hands, as he goes over a few pages before looking up at you again.

“Can I start with your name?”

Blinking a few times, it wasn’t what you were expecting. You could tell him a lie but for some reason your conscious is screaming at you to tell the truth.

So you do, your first name falls from your lips as if you’re talking to a trusted peer. Last names don’t matter anymore in the apocalypse, it’s just one of those things that fell off of the importance scale.

John hums out loud, nodding as he writes your name down, crossing his legs.

“Age?”

You tell him the truth. His bottom lip sticks out a bit and he nodded, jotting that down as well.

“Still have some time left.” John breathes out, so softly that you can’t even hear him.

“Marital status?”

You frown again.

“Why does it matter?” you asked, looking at John with this dumbfounded expression. He sighs.

“Just, whatever it was before the infection.” John elaborates. Still. It was quite irrelevant. At least to you.

“Engaged.” You tell him, honesty is the best policy here. “Died a few years ago.”

John paused before writing anything down.

“Sorry to hear that.” John apologizes, his expression is quite somber, as if he’s recalling bad memories. His canine tooth is digging into his tongue. “Any allergies?”

This strange interrogation went on for about 25 minutes, with answers you provided and small talk in between. You don’t know why but you’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable around him.

“Let me get to the chase.” John sighed, he had told you his name in the middle of your conversation, and it’s been nice having a name to put next to his face. It was so simple and so fitting. John.

“You have two options. Both are similar but one is much nicer than the other.” John tells you, as the hairs on your neck stand up. Your fingers twitch from behind, it’s hard to contain your anxiousness when you’re bound.

“You’re a woman that’s in excellent health, a diamond in the rough, really. Your age is decent for it as well.” John mentions. “You’re also such a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t even seen anyone come in here that was close to looking like you.” He sighs.

Silence fills the room as we stare at each other.

“Our goal at my compound is to do our best to repopulate the country, and to inspire other groups to do as we do.” He explains further. “We have an extensive human breeding program in our compound. It’s a requirement for the females that are brought here to participate.”

During his entire ramble his dark eyes have been ogling your legs and hips.

“So, here are your options.” He starts.

You can’t even fucking believe what you’re hearing right now. The pure shock is causing a ringing in your ears, and you barely pick up what he’s telling you next. John stands from his recliner and takes a few steps towards you.

“I’ll assign you to a random member of our community. You’ll live with him, and he’ll be attempting to conceive with you, my men aren’t known really for being all too kind or gentle.” John says, clasping his hands in front of him.

Your heart is racing and John notices the panic running through your body.

“If they don’t take a liking to you after you reach conception, we’ll just send you to live with the other women on the other side of the fortress.” John shrugs, tapping his boot restlessly on the cabin floor. “Or…” his large hand grabs your chin and lifts it to force you to look up at him.

His rough feeling thumb rolls over your bottom lip, the gears in his head turning while he takes a deep breath. “I can keep you for myself.”

John’s taking in every aspect of your body language and face, he’s noticing the way you are just barely trembling under his touch. He’s really hoping you don’t notice his cock twitch in his pants. He’s gotta get ahold of himself, honestly, he’s a grown man. Why are you making him feel like a horny teenager all over again?

You’re going over the options in your head, while still attempting to find anything to bash John over the head with. But your arms are still bound behind your back. As it stands, you’re completely at the mercy of the long haired man who’s practically drooling over you.

Your pretty eyes blink up at him as your mind races, your heart thumps, it feels like you might even pass out. Was this even real? This had to be a nightmare, right?! Right. There was absolutely no way you were traded for some bullets, gasoline, and a first aid kit and dragged into a human breeding camp, right? All you had to do was wake up.

Wake up. Come on.

Fucking wake up.

Except it was all too real, proven to you by the lingering sting on your mouth from the ripped duct tape. Your lip was even bleeding a bit still from the injury.

Shit.

“I wanna show you how good I am.” John interrupts your rampant train of thought, and snaps you back into your hell hole of a reality. His hand clenches a bit harder against your face, thumb shoving inside of your mouth once you open it to respond to him. This move gives you no time to even create words, instead it gives off a risqué image. An image John is enjoying purely for himself, of his large thumb in between your pretty pink lips. John grunts.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” John asks rhetorically. “God you’re stunning, your parents really blessed you with good genetics.”

You have no idea what the hell you should do, so you do what you think would be best in this scenario.

You suck his thumb. The act in itself is suggestive, but with your pretty eyes batting up at him, your lips around his finger, and a slight bob of your head.

You have John in a frenzy. There’s a bead of sweat that even rolls down the back of his neck, as his breath hitches to the sight of you taking his finger into your lips.

“We could make such good looking children.” John groans at the sight of you. “Please, just, oh god.” His eyes roll to the back of his head. John pulls his thumb from your mouth as he catches his breath.

He’s been anticipating finding the right woman to come along. Delusional as he currently is, he thinks he’s been waiting all of these years just to meet you. It has to be fate, right? You’re just so perfect to him.

“Just, ugh, fuck it.” John growls, his right hand latched onto your throat as he forcibly kissed your dry lips. You gasp in surprise, as his grip on your throat becomes tighter.

“Wa-wait!” you choke out, it doesn’t stop him. He easily grabs your body and brings it to his bed, tossing you onto the mattress. You sit up quickly, but then hear a click, the feeling of cold metal pressing against your head makes you freeze.

Looking up, John’s smiling down at you, his heart fluttering at the mere sight of you. He’s holding a pistol straight to your temple, clicking his tongue at you while your pretty eyes widen at the sudden tension change.

“No waiting, sweetpea.” John grumbles as you notice the handgun safety is off. Shit. “You’re gonna cooperate. I’m not going to let you make that choice, there’s no way in hell I’m letting my men breed you.”

The gun is still being pressed against your skull as he grabs a book from his bedside table, he flips through a few pages and reads the contents over. You’re not able to see what he’s reading since you don’t dare make any sudden movements. His eyes are still on the book while he asks you a question.

“When did you last menstruate?”

You’re still in shock from everything he’s said so far, and this certainly didn’t help.

“Uh, what?” you can’t even comprehend the fact that he asked you such a personal question.

John pressed the gun to your head harder. “Answer me!” he yelled, frustrated at your stalling. John’s deep and frightening voice bellows off of the wooden walls of his cabin, making you wince.

“I think like, 2 and a half weeks ago?” you shakily reply, it feels like you’re about to pass out from the chaotic situation at hand.

He hums affirmatively and grabs a knife, flicking it open.

“No, no please! Please I-“

He goes to cut the tape off from your wrists, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash nearby. John chuckles at your sudden fear as he continues to hold the gun to your head.

“I haven’t made love to anyone since my wife died.” John croaked out, his eyes looking a little empty and off to the distance as he spoke. He shakes the firearm a bit to intimidate you a bit. As if you’re not already. There’s a gentle smile that plays on his lips and a crazed glint in his brown eyes.

“I never partook in the repopulation process, I just could never see myself making love to any of those other women.” He informs you. “But, you? You’re just,” he takes a sharp inhale and bites his lip. “I think I can manage to be passionate with you.” John whispers, rubbing the back of his neck and nodding to himself. “You're going to reciprocate. Like we’ve known each other for years. And you’re going to do a good job, if not,” he taps the barrel of the gun against your head. You’re trembling beneath him.

“Think you can do that for me?” John asks, looking back at his book and flipping through some pages.

You reluctantly nod, battling the urge to scream and fight for your life. He gives you that same deranged but soft smile, sighing in relief as if he was expecting you to say no, as if there wasn’t the threat of death in the air.

“By the way,” he sighs. “My name’s John.”

You nod awkwardly, as he looks over his book for a few more moments.

“The book says that missionary is the position that has the most success in conceiving.” John mentions, as the reality sets in. This is actually happening. You feel like your world is collapsing in on itself. “Really sell it to me; okay? I’d hate to shoot you.”

All you can do is force a nervous smile and nod, before he sets his firearm down on the bedside table. John continued to stare at you before he cleared his throat.

“Well? Take your clothes off for me, sweet pea.”

You’re slightly disgusted that you’re even listening to the orders that John is giving you. As if you actually have known him for years now. As if you loved him. Your stomach feels sick, you attempt to hide your disdain as you quickly peel off your long sleeve shirt, before John places his hand on your arm before you can pull it over your head.

“Put it back on.”

You let out a deep exhale through your nose, eyebrows furrowing, but you obey. Slipping the shirt back over your body.

“I changed my mind. Stand up.” John commands, as he switches positions, sitting where you were on the bed, as you rise. “Do a strip tease for me.”

He had to be fucking with you now. So you frown and grimace at the thought.

“You’re kidding.” you laugh.

John reaches for his gun.

“Okay! Okay, fine.” You grunt, sighing. You didn’t even know how to do such a thing. John smiles wickedly, leaning back a bit on his bed as you turn around from him. Your hands slowly lift your shirt up, and over your head, John’s staring at your bare skin while the shirt drops to the floor. He bites the inside of his cheek while his shaft presses against his jeans.

You undress to only your undergarments, and you quite literally have no idea what to do next. You really don’t want to wing it and anger him, but you have a feeling if he keeps guiding you through it he’ll lose his patience. So you turn around, surprised to see John with his belt and pants undone.

His large hand is giving his own cock a few long strokes. Speaking of long.

You’re terrified of what that thing is going to do to you tonight. The tip is thick in itself, that’s the spot John’s hand seems to give the most attention. He’s even bucking his hips and thrusting upwards into the grip of his own hand, his eyes never leaving your body.

“Sell it to me. Don’t make me question it. If you don’t, I’ll fucking kill you.” John moans, and your heartbeat races. You notice his free hand is gripping his gun that’s sitting on the mattress.

It’s now or never.

You’ve done this a few times before, it’s been years, but you can probably fake it pretty well. Right?

You saunter up to him, mustering up all of the energy in your body to act this out as realistically as you can.

It’s not like John was ugly. He had a handsome face, you can tell he’s in shape, with those brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. And you have a thing for big noses anyway. Not to mention, his cock looks really nice.

Alright. You got this.

You straddle his waist, biting your plump lip and taking John’s shirt for him.

“Can’t just have me take my clothes off without you doing the same. Or it’s not fair.” You tease, giggling while your small hand grazes John’s lower shaft in a playful manner, pulling your hand away just as quick.

You were right. He is in shape. He’s lean with a muscular figure, alright, you’ll admit it, he’s attractive. This will help sell it.

“John, baby…” you mew, batting your eyelashes. His breathing gets heavier when you call him that. Okay, that’s good. He likes that.

“You should touch me instead.” you tell him softly, removing his hand from his cock and moving it to your breasts. John even lets go of his gun to unclasp your bra from behind your back. Your nipples harden from the cool cabin air hitting them, and John’s fingertips run over both of them.

“My pretty girl,” he grunts. John’s hands travel down to your hips and he grabs them with a killer grip. You try your best not to wince, but you know damn well there’s going to be bruises all over your after this.

“Our baby’s going to be beautiful…” he mumbles as his lips attach themselves to your neck, planting kisses on your throat. One of his hands trace down to your underwear, sliding it to the side a bit as his finger gently moves onto your clit. You jerk a bit from the sudden pressure, John chuckles at your reaction and from how wet you are, despite him forcing you to go through this.

“Oh yeah. You’re lucky that I make so much cum. It makes this process so much easier.” John tells you, and for some reason, it makes your stomach jump.

A whimper escapes you as he massages your sensitive nub, your head burying itself in the crook of his neck and collarbone, you’re instinctively grinding yourself against his finger.

You hate to admit it but this feels fantastic. It’s been years since you’ve even touched someone else like this. Shit, it’s the end of the world, the last thing that’s been on your mind was a good fuck.

That’s when you feel the gun against your chest this time. The barrel is ice cold compared to John’s flesh, and you look into John’s eyes as he continues to rub your clit.

“Say it.” John demands, finger on the trigger, with that same deranged twinkle in his brown eyes.

“S-say what?” You blubber out in between needy moans. John frowns.

“You know what I mean. Say it like you mean it.” He orders. He must get off on this. John’s gotta get off on having a helpless woman in his arms, with the threat of her losing her life, while also pleasuring her to the brink of euphoria.

You know what he means. But those three words, they’re important. You can’t just throw those around at every crazed man that insists on it. They’re reserved for people who actually deserve it.

Well, you are pretending after all.

The metal digs harder into your upper breast, and you grunt.

“John, I love you.”

He tossed the gun onto the floor and grabbed you closer, kissing you frantically as he took off the rest of his clothing, switching positions so he’s now on top of you.

You hate yourself for liking the way he smells. For the way you moan whenever he touches you in a pleasurable way. You don’t want a child, let alone want a child with an insane, breeding obsessed man.

John’s breathing is ragged while he lifts your hips up, yanking your thong off and sliding a pillow under the small of your back.

“Gravity, it helps sperm reach the cervix.” John musters out in between sloppy kisses between your neck, jaw, and mouth. “Won’t last long, it’s been years since I’ve done this.” he says, quickly moving his cock towards your mouth as you’re pinned down to his mattress. “Come on.”

You unhappily oblige. Opening your mouth to let his dick travel through your lips and down your throat. Swirling your tongue quickly around the shaft as he groans in pleasure from above, pulling himself out quickly. Strings of your saliva hang from his tip as he spreads around the moisture all around his erection. He lines himself up with your cunt, spreading your legs and even lifting each one onto his shoulders.

Fear sets in as you know he’s going to go deep. John shudders in pure ecstasy as he inserts his tip into you, the natural lube helps but it’s been far too long, your initial reaction is to dig your nails into his muscular back and wince.

It’s weird, John seems to actually care about your pleasure. Which in itself is odd since he’s a complete stranger, with only one goal in mind at the moment. He peers down at you, reading your facial expressions, before his thumb lightly kneads your clit once again.

His other hand goes towards your face, stroking your warm and flushed cheek as he kisses your calf that’s placed on his shoulder. Your cunt is now in a mixture of pain and pleasure, confusing you as grunts and whimpers leave your mouth.

“That better? When I do that?” John questions, his long hair draping over his eyes.

You nod.

John begins to thrust, slow and shallow, actually allowing you to adjust to his size. “Say it again, pretty girl.” he grumbled, pushing deeper into your tight cunt. You yelp from the sheer girth that is his cock, nails still making wounds into his flesh.

“I love you! I love you, John!” you cry out, his fingers moving faster on your clit while his thrusts quicken. You still have to sell it to him, so you reach your small hands up to his face and pull him into your own, slamming your lips onto his. You can help but moan loudly against his lips, since the slight repositioning of his body has given him even deeper access to your pussy.

But even this, you can’t fake. Your moans and pleads for more are all too real. And by the way John is wickedly smiling down at you, he can tell. Your tits bounce in rhythm to his movements, as he goes faster, chasing his own climax.

While he pounds into you, you can feel yourself getting close. Your legs instinctively tighten around John’s shoulders as you wheeze. John puts his large hand over your womb, feeling his bulge move in and out of you as he fucks you. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, drawing blood, going absolutely feral at the thought of his seed working it’s way inside of you.

“You’re gonna be my good little breeding doll, aren’t ya? It’s for the greater good, sweetpea.” John moans out, while sweat drips from his forehead. “For the greater good, greater good,” He’s repeating the phrase to himself as he fucks into you, his balls smacking the cusp of your cunt and ass. You can hardly handle the sheer overstimulation you’re experiencing, barely realizing he’s speaking to you.

“Tell me you love me, sweetheart.” John growls. “Be a good little wife, come on now.”

You feel your orgasm drawing closer the faster he goes. You’ve definitely had good sex but nothing like this. It was wrong. You didn’t want it. You don’t even know this man. Tears brimmed your eyelids as you made unhinged noises underneath him.

“I, I l-love you, J-John,” you manage to sputter out, suddenly, you’re seeing double since your eyes are crossing, your orgasm hitting you like a brick.

Your cunt clenched around John’s cock, sending him over the edge. He holds you closer to his large muscular frame, his arms swimming under your back and squeezing you tight. John grunts and moans as he cums, panting as he fills you with it.

“That’s right, baby doll, take my seed, that’s it.” John moans, keeping himself buried deep into your pussy as it finishes dripping out of him. Setting you back down on the mattress, John notices your body that’s completely limp from your cock drunk state. You can hardly move but that doesn’t stop you from feeling John’s cum shooting inside of you.

He strokes your cheek gently and smiles, sucking the blood from his lip and sighing.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” John asks, planting messy kisses on your bare chest and torso, caressing your stomach as he does so. He pulls out, keeping your thighs and hips elevated on the pillow beneath you.

You can hardly think, hell, you can hardly breathe. The weight of the situation sets in your chest but you can’t deal with the emotional repercussions of it at the moment. All you can think of is that gun that’s on the bedside table.

You hate that he made you cum so easily.

You hate the feeling of his cum dripping further into your cunt.

You hate that you didn’t just let him shoot you in the damn head.

You hate that he has a pretty smile and pretty eyes, no matter how demented they look.

You fucking hate that you’re probably going to miss your next period.

You swear you’re gonna be sick.

John is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over to grab his underwear and pants. Against your better judgement, your arm thrashes towards the firearm on the table, and you graze the barrel against the back of his skull of long dark hair. To your surprise, he doesn’t budge, and when your small finger pulls the trigger…

Click.

Another damn click.

You frown, pressing the magazine release button, only to realize it has been empty the entire time.

Your hands shake with the hunk of metal in them, your jaw clenching.

You swear you’re seeing red, as John lets out a deep throaty laugh from above.

It’s that handsome shit eating grin again.

Pearly whites accompanied by his five o’clock shadow, he’s already tied his long hair back and is even giving you a nod of appreciation.

“Oh, now I know I chose the right woman to carry my child.”

#john wick #john wick x you #jw #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #jw4 #keanu #john wick fanfic #john wick one shot

256 notes · View notes

eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

Text

Baby It's Hot Inside

Pairing: SteveHarringtonXReader

Summary: You're a TA getting ready to head home for the holidays when your boyfriend surprises you.

18+ Only

You had just finished the last tutoring session before break. Now, you just had to finish grading these tests on 'The Grapes of Wrath' and you would finally be free. You enjoyed your T.A. duties usually but your brain had already checked out for the year. You couldn't wait to get on the road with Steve and head home to see your family. Your parents were ecstatic that you were actually bringing Steve home with you this time. They'd been bugging you about meeting him every chance they got.

You had been dating for two years but the last time you'd been home, four months ago, he hadn't been able to take time off from the architectural firm he worked for. Timing had just always been off but now it was finally all coming together and you were going to get to show off your beautiful man to your family.

"Focus," you hissed at yourself, bringing your fingertips to your temples and pressing them in gently. Vacation was coming. You just had to keep it together for the next hour and get this done. Steve was picking you up. You guys had packed up last night so you could start the drive as soon as you finished.

Wandering out of your small office, you went to the staff lounge to pour yourself a cup of coffee. You were going to require some fortification if you were going to do this. Steinbeck might be a classic, but you'd never personally enjoyed that book. It was so depressing, which made sense, since it was about The Great Depression but morose and dismal were not what you wanted during what should be the happiest time of the year.

Taking a long sip of coffee, you shook your head to clear it and took in a deep breath, resolved in your mission to finish this job. Professor Walsh would never let you continue to be his T.A. next semester if you left things undone. You turned, heading back to your office and jumped, almost spilling your coffee when a hand grabbed your arm.

"Shh, it's only me."

You looked up into the face of your boyfriend and groaned, rolling your eyes. You slapped his chest, "You complete asshole. I almost wore my coffee."

Steve smirked, reaching out and taking your coffee from you. He set it on the desk before stepping into you. Oh shit. You knew that expression. What was he thinking? You couldn't do that here, in this office, with your professor right next door.

"So sorry, angel," he whispered. Reaching one arm behind you, he pushed the door closed and then his hands caged the sides of your head, his body pressing into you, pushing you up against the door. Your breath caught, forgetting all about how very wrong this was because Steve always felt so goddamn right. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to surprise you."

"You did," you said, "but what are you doing? You aren't supposed to pick me up for another hour. I have tests to grade."

"Hmm, yeah," he mused, his finger tracing down the side of your face and along your jaw, his thumb running over your lower lip. "But I missed you and I was thinking, we're about to spend a whole week with your family. Don't get me wrong. I am excited to meet everyone but it's going to be next to impossible to get any alone time with you. I don't think I can go that long."

"Steve, you can't seriously be thinking what I think you're thinking. We can't do that here," you hissed, your body betraying your words even as they left your mouth, your hips shifting to meet his, pressing against him.

"I'll be really quiet," he promised, bringing his finger to his lips, those hazel eyes sparkling under the dim lights of your office. His head dropped as he took your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling at it gently. Your mouth dropped open, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve took this as an invitation to continue, his mouth tracing along your jawline. When his tongue ran down to the side of your neck, you shuddered, groaning. You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

"Steve, baby," you whispered, the sound a combination of needy and scolding. Your brain knew this needed to stop but your body was desperate to continue. "We can't. Really. It's only another hour."

"And then it's a week of trying to sneak alone time," he whined, his hand slipping under your shirt. He caressed your breast through your lace bra, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and you bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. "Come on. Isn't it exciting? We've never done it here before. It makes me all hot, thinking about you here, being all sexy teacher."

Steve's lips found yours again, his tongue slipping past your thoughts, the intoxicating taste of him fogging your brain. Your hands tangled in his hair, your lips smashing against his. Your leg lifted, winding around his waist, pulling him into you and he moaned into your mouth. He rolled his hips, grinding his erection against your center. His hand slid under your skirt, gripping the flesh of your thigh. You whimpered, your hands traveling to his back, gripping his shoulder blades, incapable of getting him close enough.

"Have a great Christmas Harold! I am just going to check on how Y/N's doing with those tests and then I am out of here."

"Shit..." you muttered as your heard Professor Walsh heading down the hallway. Your eyes darted around the office, trying to figure out where to send Steve so he wouldn't be seen. He wasn't supposed to be here. You looked at the desk and pointed, "Under there. Hurry."

Steve ran over to the desk, flashing you a wicked smile before he ducked down and slid underneath it. You raced over, sitting in your chair, having to spread your legs to accommodate Steve being under there. Just as you grabbed your pen and poised yourself over the stack of papers, the door opened and Professor Walsh appeared in the doorway.

"Hey Y/N, how's it going?"

"Almost done," you assured him with a smile. "Maybe another hour and they'll all be done."

You felt fingers dancing up your calves and jumped a bit, working hard to arrange your face in a non suspicious manner. That grew harder as those same hands moved along your thighs, pushing your skirt up, exposing you to Steve under the desk. Son of a bitch. What the hell did he think he was doing?

"Oh great," Professor Walsh smiled. "I don't think you ever told me, what are your holiday plans?"

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, Steve's mouth pressed against your pussy, releasing a warm breath over your panties and you gasped, gripping the pen so tightly you feared it would snap.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Uh...yeah," you answered, nodding your head a little too hard. Steve was slipping your panties to the side. His tongue slid along your folds and you shifted slightly, using every ounce of restraint you had. "I'm good." Damn it. That was definitely a squeak. You were squeaking. Professor Walsh was going to know something was up. Steve's tongue flicked over your clit and you slammed your hands on the desk, causing the professor to jump. "So sorry. Just so excited to start my vacation."

"I completely understand. My family is going on a ski holiday and I am really looking forward to two weeks of peace and quiet. My kids and wife ski. I will be sitting inside, by the fire, with a whiskey and a good book."

"Sounds nice," you forced out, nails raking over the wood of the desktop as Steve's tongue circled your clit before flicking quickly up and down, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Shit. You really had to get Professor Walsh out of here.

"And you?"

"Home...with my family..." you whimpered, your hands moving down to grip the armrests of the chair so tightly you were sure you would break them off. Steve's fingers traced up and down your thighs, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently. Then his tongue was circling again and you had to fight your eyes from rolling into your head.

"Wonderful. Well, don't stay too late. If you don't get everything graded, we can always get to it after vacation. Have a Merry Christmas."

"You too," you squeaked, never more relieved in your life than when the door closed. Shoving the chair back, you glared down at Steve. "You absolute asshole. Are you shitting me right now?"

Steve grinned up at you, running his tongue along his lip, chin glistening with your juices. "Are you going to tell me you weren't enjoying yourself?"

"My professor was standing right there," you snapped.

"So...you don't want me to finish? I know you were close, beautiful," he murmured, walking his fingers up your leg, along your inner thigh, back to where the pressure was pleading to be released. He pressed his lips to your thigh, sliding two fingers inside of you and you finally allowed yourself a soft moan of pleasure, your head falling back against the back of the chair. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't you fucking dare," you growled, rocking your hips in time with his thrusting fingers.

"That's my naughty girl," he laughed, his tongue rolling around your clit again. You were so fucking close from his previous torture. You had to admit, it was quite a turn on to have him eating you out with your professor right there. The risk of getting caught was quite hot, but you would never admit that to Steve. He didn't need anymore bright ideas.

"Oh fuck baby," you moaned, his fingers curving inside you to hit all the most delicious places. The knot in your stomach tightened and he sensed it, his tongue picking up the pace, flicking back and forth until you were in an absolute frenzy of rapture. Gripping the back of his head, you held him against you, rocking your hips against his face. Steve moaned against you and that was it. Your eyes rolled up in your head, your muscles going rigid as you clamped your hand over your mouth and muffled the scream.

"Goddamn you..." you huffed, "sometimes you are such a pain in the ass."

"Looked like you were enjoying yourself to me," he laughed, rising to his feet. "Come on. You have to admit, that was pretty damn hot."

"You are pretty damn hot," you replied, standing up and smashing your mouth against his in a frenzy of lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve's hands shot up in surprise and then a low rumble erupted from his chest as his arms crushed you against him. You reached down, undoing his belt buckle and the button on his pants as you caught his bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to get him to whimper. Sliding his pants just past his hips, you pushed him back on the desk and crawled over top of him.

"Damn, I am enjoying this naughty side of you, angel," he purred, his hands sliding your skirt up over your thighs again.

"Consider this your Christmas gift," you teased with a wicked grin as you gripped his cock and lowered yourself onto him. You moaned, enjoying the sensation of him filling every inch of you, stretching you to accommodate his girth.

"This is the only gift I need," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips as you began to move, lifting and lowering yourself over him. "Fuck, you are so damn gorgeous."

You braced your hands on the desk, placing them on either side of his head, rocking your hips backward and forward. He held onto you, raising his hips to meet yours. Your eyes soaked him in, those delectable pouty lips even more full from your teeth, that jaw line that constantly called out to be kissed, that beautiful hair that was now disheveled, those eyes like two pools of whiskey you wanted to drown in. Those eyes were completely focused on you, watching you ride him.

His hands slid under your top, massaging your breasts in his hands. Fuck, you loved the feel of those hands. The pads calloused from years of playing sports but it just made every touch even more delicious. Those rough fingertips were brushing along your nipples and your whimpered, rotating your hips in circles.

"Oh shit!" Steve cried and you slapped your hand over his mouth. You couldn't blame him. You had to be conscious not to do the same thing as this motion was causing that familiar tightening in your stomach again. You placed your hands on his chest, your own chest heaving as you continued to roll your hips. "Oh baby...I'm gonna..."

He grunted, thrusting up into you and your felt his climax as his cock painted your walls with his release. Your nails dug into his flesh as you crested over your own peak, your walls spasming around him, holding him in as you both rode the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck!" Steve groaned and you slapped your hand over his mouth again, giggling.

He gently removed your hand, pressing his lips against your fingertips. You fell forward, collapsing against him, feeling your body rise with each hard breath he took. His arms wrapped around you and he joined in your laughter.

"I'm going to visiting you at school a lot more," he said, kissing your forehead.

"You better not," you laughed. "You're going to get me fired, expelled, or arrested."

"Well, where's the fun without a little risk?" Steve challenged, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Jesus, what am I going to do with you?"

Steve sat up, bringing you with him, "A hell of a lot more of that."

#steve stranger things #steve x you #steve x reader #king steve #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #smut #christmas smut #christmas fanfic #steve harrington christmas

79 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 15 days

Note

Hii!

So I'm trying to write a historical fanfiction, the plot revolving around the royals and servants living in the castle and I have their roles and some main plot elements, but I have trouble figuring out in which age this is set, the technological advancement and style of the world and the situation of the royalties with the political situation. (I've been thinking about the 19th century) Do you have any tips regarding any of these?

Writing a Historical Fan-Fiction Set in Castle

I'm a little confused by the notion of writing fan-fiction but not knowing the canon time period. Unless you mean that you're taking canon characters and moving them to a historical setting?

If you're having trouble figuring out the canon time period, you can Google "what year does ___canon title___ take place?" Or, "what year is ______ set during?" This will give you a year, or at the very least an era. From there, you can do specific research on that year/era in the location where your story will be set. (see: Researching an Historical Topic)

If you're moving canon characters to a new time and setting, and you're having trouble choosing an era, it honestly depends on the needs of your story.

The first thing it might help you to understand is that a palace is the official residence of a chief of state (such as a king and/or queen), and that castles are fortified palaces. Prior to the 1500s, kings and queens needed to live in fortified palaces (castles) so that they could be defended in case of attack. However, changes in weapons and warfare in the 1500s made the heavy fortification of castles less and less necessary. That is when we start to see the building of non-fortified palaces, such as St. James and Lambeth palaces in England, Versailles in France, and the Winter Palace in Russia. Having said that, royal castles tended to stay in royal hands and continued to be used as royal residences, and sometimes the king and/or queen would take up residence in a castle palace for a change of scenery or because they had business in that part of the kingdom.

So, if you're imagining an ancient castle with gloomy, austere interiors, torch lit passages, brazier-lit throne rooms, massive dining halls, and dismal dungeons, you'll probably want to set this story prior to the 1500s and maybe even as far back as the 1100s or 1200s. After the 1400s, castles are going to be secondary residences with a grand palace being the primary residence. You might find it helpful to think of a king and/or queen who fit into the era you're imagining. For example, if you're imagining something like Prince John in Robin Hood or something like Game of Thrones, you're looking at 1100s to maybe 1300s. If you want something more Henry VIII or Elizabeth I, you are looking at early 1500s to early 1600s. Or, if you're imagining something more like Queen Charlotte in Bridgerton or Queen Victoria in Victoria, you're looking at the early to late 1800s.

Once you know the time period/era it will be much easier to target the specific details of technology, politics, and world. Here are some other posts that might help:

“King” Doesn’t Mean “Husband of the Queen” Forms of Address for Royals and Nobility Guide: Writing About Fictional Royals Creating a Fictional Kingdom Setting Your Story in an Unfamiliar Place WQA’s Guide to Internet Research Writing About Difficult to Research Topics

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

46 notes · View notes

immaturityofthomasastruc · 6 months

Note

You know before the reveal of Feast, I actually had a fanfic-ish theory on what destroyed the order, the peacock and what had Fu so Scared

I initially had this theory of the guardians not only protecting the miraculous from the world but the world from the Kwamis, since there’s so many concepts (propulsion,destruction,action,etc) I thought that some concepts would be too dangerous with the Kwamis acting according their Concept (Plagg is a trouble maker, the tiger is loud, the bee is loyal, etc) so I thought of kwamis which acted on their concept way too much (regeneration regenerating too much which caused things like painful deformations, infection basically creating monster zombies, fortification being walking fortress of destruction, manipulation causing wars out of pure pleasure, etc) and I thought the thing that destroyed the order would be like the opposite of Plagg and Tikki, the two are a eternal loop of balance, of entropy and birth, of light and darkness, creation and destruction. So the bad guy would be the End of said valance

Like a villain similar to the Lich of adventure time which wanted nothing but the destruction of everything, the end of the cycle, the end of everything that is, was and will be. A villain that would mark himself has evil and would keep doing it because that’s he’s nature and doesn’t think he should go against it

I think Fu would have accidentally freed this Kwami of the end but the guardians sacrificed themselves and thousands of miraculouses (because we already have enough heroes) to trap it once again and the reason Fu ran away is because some of the leaking power of the End miraculous freed some minions of the kwami which want the miraculous of creation and Destruction so their master can destroy EVERYTHING

In a show about the miraculous (heck they even come before of ladybug’s and cat noir’s name) I think the most fitting villain would be a miraculous

That would explain why Fu was so scared of losing the Miraculous without pulling up the stupidity of the wish in default ending the world, since losing the miraculous could mean Literally the end of everything

Heck I even made a OC (the minion of the kwami chasing down Fu) which was just “hey what if I make a villain rival for ladybug that doesn’t have disgusting implications of being a minor (a rival that is a adult) so when she’s defeated the audience will cheer instead of being disgusted or sad for seeing a (technical) child being dragged into the depths of HELL” also to explain why the peacock was broken since the miraculous of the end (which rivals the power of creation and destruction together) could 100 break the miraculous, it would make the audience know how dangerous this powers are and would make it look important since the damage he caused started the whole show

Also it would rise the stakes better than Gabriel’s personality making a 180 and the wish having the most bullshit consequences, since the wish would be used to end the world

I even wrote a fanfic of the escaped minion being the reason the Timeline changes in cat blanc to make the world end, so the audience knows how corruptive, destructive, unnatural, evil this kwami is with its first plan including manipulating the minds of kids (Rossi slightly and heavily Lila) to start all the events, manipulate Gabriel to hurt he’s son, make cat Blanc fight ladybug and destroy the world. Lila and chloe are just kids, Gabriel is a broken man, but this thing? This thing and he’s minions are what people B.C. saw that inspired the Devil, Hell and demons

Seriously when I discovered a sentimonster (one the order had designed on their book) was the one who destroyed ALL of the guardians, I felt nothing but disappointment, specially when they don’t explain how the peacock was broken by a mere sentimonster

I expected something grand, something that would make Gabriel see the error of he’s ways with how insignificant he is compared to the forces he was trying to control, but instead I just got a sentimonster…

Am I the one in the wrong? Was I expecting too much? Because even till this day I still feel disappointed, specially by how pathetic and uninteresting Feast was. seriously if you changed Feast and that dragon giant from the Shanghai special, I would be pleased since at least I can see a threatening, smart and powerful monster which scales above Hawkmoth in every way (power, evilness, design, lore) being the one at fault of the destruction of this mighty guardians, but instead they died to a frog!

That was a pretty interesting and detailed backstory, anon. Do you have a link to the fanfic you wrote involving the minion?

You're not wrong to expect more from the backstory of one of this show's characters. I don't think anyone really expected the backstory that kicked off the plot to amount to "The monks who trained me were dicks, I got hungry, so I played God and accidentally wiped out the aforementioned monks with a blue frog."

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #master fu #wang fu #jade turtle

66 notes · View notes

limelocked · 1 year

Text

having thoughts about the ancient city on this day

because like troy, this thing has layers

i got done with my observations in the flatworld and went to look at how it actually generates and ive learned this:

1 there is no wool from the original inhabitants (gray) outside of the heavily fortified walls and the hidden redstone room, that means no wool in the sauna, ice box, barracks, tall ruins etc

2 the creature in the statues is different from the warden, it looks like warden concept art but for our purposes thats not the warden, thats something else, if it was the warden then it wouldve been changed

3 the warden doesnt live here. let me rephrase that; in the deep dark dev diary video there was talk about how the sculk was like an organism and i think that tracks what with the catalyst eating the souls of the dead but that also means the following: sculk shriekers, not the ancient city, is what calls the warden, the warden defends the sculk not the city

oh lime, you say, why then be the ancient city covered in this fleshy moss

lemmi lay out the timeline

1 the ancient city people live in unwalled cities, or at least the walls dont look like they do now, the city centers as we see them today have three paths up to the.. dias? but only one is accessible due to the walls, they have some way to access the nether to get soul sand and they are very peculiar about refrigerating their items and keeping themselves clean.

there may have been a guardian mob like the iron golem for these people, one that had rounded ears

2 the sculk comes. how it arrives is unknown but it feeds on the dead and dying, it envelops blocks it likes and covers the rest in veins outside the flesh. the ancient people build walls that are insulated in wool, the walls are imposing and threatening in nature and divides the city into quarters, it cannot contain the spread, people still die. they start tinkering with redstone hoping to find something that stops the advance.

there may have been a construct like the iron golem that had its blocks enveloped by the sculk, its ears changed to antena

Death.

sculk by its nature is a sign that an area is no such place of honour. sculk by its very nature denotes the ancient city not as a historical landmark but as a graveyard covered with the corpses of its people.

eventually the people who lived there either die or relocate the cities are abandoned we mourn

there may have been a guardian of a city that is now a guardian of the flesh, a warden to a self made jail full of people that will die at the will of a hungry being so large and unknowable yet also so quietly peaceful

4 much later, the people who made the mineshafts (probably not following the age old proverb of never digging too deep) discover the ancient city and start exploring it with none of the caution that the late ancient people had. many die. they set up many camps and fortifications, it takes them a while to even learn that wool will save them. many die. soon they abandon whatever ideas they had about the city and either die or leave this cursed place full of death.

#minecraft #mineblr #minecraft lore #ive not been that hype on mc lore other than my crack theory about piglins just like in general but i think this fills the like #anthropology niche in my brain

200 notes · View notes

tanadrin · 1 year

Text

i’m generally pretty sympathetic to pacifist and nonviolent worldviews, but i do think you have to acknowledge that you are asking a superhuman amount of restraint from people if that’s what you’re demanding from them. it’s one thing to ask someone to potentially give up their life or safety for the sake of ending violence; it’s quite another to ask them to give up the lives or safety for people they care about, which they feel like they have a duty to protect.

and you still have to be able to engage with the world rationally, to accurately understand the behavior of people who do not think like you; a world that is only partially committed to nonviolence is potentially a world where people willing to commit violence run roughshod over people who refrain, and where more violence, not less, is the result.

there’s a reason the mohists during the warring states period tried to encourage peace by becoming experts in city fortifications and offering their services to other city-states--if they could make the cost of war too high to be worth prosecuting, they could actually reduce the amount of ambient violence in their world. unfortunately large rammed-earth walls are no longer cutting edge defensive technology--now if you are going to defend states from external invasion you need ATACMS and tanks and other, much more destructive tools. but i still think it is ethically responsible to make aggressive warfare unpalatable, and unfortunately there is no way to do that more effectively than fighting back

#big fan of the mohists btw

173 notes · View notes

ty-bayonet-betteridge · 1 month

Note

for the prompt game thing - Sickfic/caretaking - shiny duo

(from this)

"Gem?" Pearl lingered at the door to Gem's cottage. "We caught up to Skizz and gave him the lowdown. We're ready to attack the survivors again, we just need our leader back."

Gem groaned. "I'm gonna kill Scar."

Pearl laughed. "You aren't alone in that, mate. We'll get'im when this is over, awright?" Her accent was coming through. It did that when she was stressed.

Gem didn't reply.

"Can I come in, Gem?"

"Sure," she said, too tired to care.

Pearl entered, closing the door behind her, and sat down on Gem's bed beside her. Gem shifted, sitting up and tucking her knees to her chest to make room. "You doing alright?"

"No." She laughed bitterly. "But what else is new?"

"Can I ask what's wrong?"

"I don't know what's wrong," Gem said, frustrated. "My mind's all foggy. I can barely recognize your face and your voice, and every time I look at you all I can think about is the ways you hurt me. I tried thinking about the others, and it's the same thing. Even my Scotts. I don't want to hate you all, but for some reason, I do."

Pearl was quiet for a second. "I forgot it's your first season," she said eventually.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gem clutched at the bedsheets angrily, bunching them up in her hands.

"It's your first time going down to your red life. That's... just what it's like. You forget your allies, you want to hurt people."

"I knew that already," Gem said. "I didn't know it'd hurt this much. I hate it. I feel physically ill. I thought the boogey curse was bad, but this is a hundred times worse. I can't even think. How am I supposed to deal with this?"

Pearl silently passed her a piece of mutton and Gem devoured it. She hadn't even realized how hungry she was. Then Pearl stood, and tugged at Gem's arm. "C'mon, let's go get some bloodshed in you. Murder'll make you feel better."

Gem allowed herself to be pulled to her feet and guided onto the camel. She clutched onto Pearl's waist, leaning her head against the other woman's shoulder as they rode towards the cliffside fortification where the survivors had holed up.

"You promise it'll feel better?" she asked as they started down the staircase.

"I promise," Pearl said. Gem was happy to believe her.

#does this fit the prompt? only in the loosest sense but whatever #murderous rage is an illness in my heart. its a lesbian thing you wouldnt understand #our writing #shiny duo #shinyduo #gempearl #asks #trafficshipping #trafficfic

25 notes · View notes

dpr-stay · 3 months

Text

Lovefool | Diluc x Reader

Hehehhehe Diluc Angst (tbh not that I really need to do much) also not edited!!

WC:1k

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where?” You asked curiously, staring into Diluc’s eyes. The young master closed them for a second, thinking, before he opened them to respond.

“I’m not sure.” His voice was a sort of cold you were used to, inner walls remaining strong even though you’d burst your way through most of his outer fortifications. You kept looking at his eyes, half hidden behind his bangs whenever he’d duck his head, the red iris’s shining whenever the light caught on them.

“All I know is that I’d leave if I could.” His words, like usual, were straight to the point. You furrowed your eyebrows at their heavy connotations. He sighed at your expression, sinking further into his seat. His hands came to rest on the table, not fidgeting but slowly intertwining.

You didn’t let yourself become distracted, instead gesturing for him to continue and explain his statement. He paused for a moment, glancing down to seemingly contemplate his words.

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to be able to travel. I want to continue my fathers legacy, but I don’t want to be confined by it.” He said, his fingers flexing where they held each other.

You took a minute to process his words, the, by Diluc’s standards, word vomit needing a few moments to sink into your mind. You inhaled tightly through your nose.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to explore. You could understand that. He had to feel trapped. He’d spent his years stuck in the winery, stuck in the Knights of Favonius, stuck in the grief of losing his father.

You looked up at him, the man he’d become. Turned from the kid you’d first met under the careful eye of your mother who worked as a maid in the winery, to the teenager who decided to pledge himself to the knights, and now the man who felt trapped.

No, he said ‘confined’. You thought back the times you’d spend by his side, wondering if he felt confined back then.

Back when you’d blow dandelions together, when you’d taken work in the Good Hunter to be closer to him during his training, to now when you sat across from him, trying to read his emotions.

You felt a weight settle across your shoulders, dread slowly creeping into you as you surveyed his behaviour. He had been tense when he’d asked you to meet him here, never stuttering but hesitating which was very unusual.

He looked back at you.

“I think…” He started, averting his gaze, before continuing with more fervor.

“I need to leave.” He said, his hands flattening down on the table, his throat bobbing as he talked, his eyes set and resolute.

Need. He said he needed to leave. Like he needed air to breathe, he needed to leave.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Diluc say that he needed something. Maybe once when you were still children, but the young man opposite you hadn’t needed anything in a long time.

He’d never needed parties, or presents, and you realised, with a heavy heart, he’d certainly never needed you.

But he needed to leave.

You swallowed, nodding slowly. He gazed at you, trying to read your face, but you let a reliable shield of passivity role over you. He looked at you as though asking for permission, a questioning lilt in his eyes.

“You need to leave?” You asked, voice not cracking but blocked by your throat. He nodded, an air of finality about his movement.

“Have you already made plans?” You asked, before realising how stupid it was. Of course Diluc had made plans, he was always prepared, he was just here to say goodbye.

Regardless, he nodded. You tried to swallow, sincerely you tried. You refused to let yourself falter. The silence hung in the air for a second before you spoke up.

“Diluc.” you said, the man still gazing at you with eyes you began to fear you could no longer read.

“If there was anything in the world that could make you stay, what would it be?” Sure it may come across pathetic, probably because it was, but you wanted to know. Was there any possible way you could not lose him?

He closed his eyes, his habit that you’d already picked up suddenly seeming more alien, before he shook his head slightly. He didn’t open his eyes to see the way yours faltered and darkened.

Perhaps it was foolish to hope. You’d known that at some point Diluc would snap, or something. You’d known that something would change. But you’d never imagine that he’d run away.

It felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under your feet, any and all cliche that describes feeling betrayed. A kick-in-the-gut, like a knife to your back, trust shattered like broken glass.

You tried to mask your heartbreak, but you knew that if he looked at you he would be able to tell. You didn’t know if you could consider it merciful when he stood up without looking at you, placing a few mora on the table and pushing his chair in.

“Diluc.” You said quietly. He paused in his movements. You mustered your courage. You knew the answer to the question you were about to ask, but you had to make sure. You needed to know, just in the slightest case.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You uttered. You watched his gloved hands tighten on the chair, the moment seeming to stretch for hours. You didn’t look up from his hands, but you saw his jaw clench from your peripheral.

He opened his mouth, looking at the floor, before closing it.

“I’m glad I got to see you before I left.” He turned and walked away. You watched him retreat, feeling as though someone had taken a picaxe and hacked through your back. You immediately looked down at the drink in front of you, trying to pretend the tears in your eyes was the condensation on the glass.

You had your answer.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc oneshot #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr #Genshin impact oneshot

33 notes · View notes

survivalist-anon · 8 days

Text

Log 6: Fort Dorn

Fort Dorn:

06:00 hrs

Intensive Environment Training Room

Floor -6

Four imperial fists have gone currently for 5 hours planking by their arms and feet in a room that has been designed to reach temperatures of 200° Fahrenheit. Grilled for what had occurred last night.

"So.....you four think you can just sneak out..... pretend to be not just civilians.... MORTAL civilians.", the current chaplain, Aldercon, steadily paced in his armor. "So. Did you boys have a nice drink? In which would be at this point.... quite frankly the biggest waste of your Oolitic kidney's FUCKING TIME.", leans down to Bilhard's face.

Bilhard was doing relatively good, sweating liters of his sweat per second, "SORRY SIR!". His voices shouted.

Raises up, takes a step to Urtus. "You are going to be here just as long as Bilhard is. Do you understand me?".

Urtus was neck and neck to Bilhard. By this point he's matching Bilhard on everything including sweating. "SIR YES SIR!"

"I CAN'T HEAR BOY! THE HEAT MELTED MY FUCKING AUDITORY MODULE AID!", the chaplain shouted.

"SIR YES SIR!", Urtus responded, his voice would have reverberated throughout the room if it weren't for the heating system.

The chaplain moved on to Cahrilo. Leaned right into his face. "....what about you lover boy. FUCKING SATISFIED WITH YOUR SEXUAL SHENANIGANS?!?!".

Cahrilo, doing more than sweating his fluids right out, red in the face trying to keep focus on his plank. Unlike the rest of his brothers, he hadn't trained like this for a while. He also didn't want to answer the loaded question, which ever answer he gave, he would lose for sure. "Ugh"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOUVE BORED ME!", by this point the heating room has now gotten on the chaplain's last nerve. He paces to Moors.

".....you're here..... because you stole that United States issued assault tank from that base up in Washington....and decided to modify it.... with spinning rims.", he concluded with a terribly hidden grin.

"Those weakling, yellow bellied welps at that over polished white outhouse didn't deserve 'Edna'.", with absolutely no wasted breath, Moors had just admitted to stealing government property.

This resulted in the other three bursting into uncontrollably laughter but landing in their own boiling sweat puddles.

The chaplain signal's the operator outside of the enhanced two way mirror to shut off the heater. All right that's enough for today, and Moors you're writing a double report for moral misconduct of theft of a military vehicle."

Moors got up, "worth it.", massaging his forearms.

"Hit the showers! You all smell like the nicest part of Nurgle!", Aldercon was done punishing the four marines for the time being. He enters into a small transition chamber where a blue arousal spray coats him. His face scrunches up and he starts spitting. "BLAH! WHY DOES THE DISINFECTANT TASTE LIKE BLACK BARRIES?!? SHA'KAL!", he calls out to the facilities only Salamander apothecary marine.

On the intercom, Sha'kal man's the controls, "It's a new edible formula sir! It's to prevent the others from consuming the original disinfectant.", he has always had everyone's well being in mind. Making sure that everyone, man, marine, animal or vegetable receives the best and safest care.

"WHOS THE NUMBNUTS THATS BEEN LICKING THEMSELVES CLEAN OF DISINFECTANT?!?", he angrily wipes his eyes and mouth. "Also why black barries?! I hate black barries!".

Sha'kal got up from his chair to give Aldercon a towel, "well it was the flavor that won the facility wide voting."

"oh the cruel beauty of democracy.... status report of the morning.", he shakes his head wiping off the fruity liquid.

Taking out a clip board, "well, reserves are well stocked for the month, the parameters of the fort have once again been triple checked and fortifed-"

"Ah good. Just the way I like it. Continue." A smile creeps up Aldercon's face ear to ear, chuffed to hear that so far everything is good.

As he and Aldercon walk through the expansive underground halls containing the day's reports, all forms of activity is occuring. Construction and excavations on the expanding territory of the Imperial Fists continues in full speed. Several Marines keep the place running in full operational standards to a Space Hulk on a much smaller scale.

"-and how is the ugh....what was that project that Ihorn was doing?", Aldercon reluctantly asked.

Sha'kal checked the notes he made in the back of one of the documents, "Oh yes....um the trainable bears. So biological augmentations on the bears have been successful. They've fully adapted to the nutrition supplements and seem to have adopted rather preferable behaviors.", the two of them walk to an enormous elevator shaft fit and strong enough to carry up to several tons worth of equipment.

After a few minutes of more briefing, they finally reach the surface level of the fort. Cleverly disguised as an abandoned farmhouse, the two Astartes march to the tattered barn, where most of the animals the Imperial Fists use for their own purposes.

"Ihorn! How are the bears doing?", he shouts to the shirtless marine.

Ihorn was originally a member of a company of Crimson fists stationed in Cadia for a temporary few decades, than was sent to a death planet. Now is perfectly content with animal training, he's the proud trainer of a team of eight, modified grizzly bears. "Ohoho, good morning Chaplain! Splendidly, look! Petunia is ready to have a litter again!", he proudly shows a gigantic grizzly bear, with a modified power pack permanently attached to the bear's back, tubes running along side her spine, ribs and head.

This was a bear made for the Imperium.

The bear stood up to intimidate the chaplain and Sha'kal. She had a furless bare belly, a side effect of the modifications made to her, slightly larger than normal due to the unnatural pregnancy. She let a low defensive growl.

"now now my sweet girl, you relax and concentrate on the cubs. Come on love.", Ihron takes a small clacker, clicks it a few times, snapping the bear back to its docile self.

Ihorn gives her an apple as a treat, giving her a stead pat in the back, "the girls always need to be spoiled. They perform better and are happier to do so.".

Impressed by the animal mastery Ihron has accomplished, Aldercon now wonders about something else, "The females? Why not the males?".

Giving a pensive thought, "well... I tried the males .....the females would kill and eat them", scratches Petunia behind the ears. "Shame really, I would like to see one fully grown.".

Sha'kal was standing in front of Aldercon in order to protect him from the bear, even if he was wearing an enlarged shirt with combat trousers. "Couldn't have you just, I don't know....not brutality alter this... innocent creature, it is in pain?", he looked at the unsightly handy work of one of the only members of the Adeptus mechanicus the fort had....a skitarii they named "Gibs".

"nonsense, I can tell she's pretty content. I've studied these lovely beasts for decades and she's just as content as a regular bear in captivity. Besides, if ever hear that measley little cord rat hurt any of my animals....I'll squish whatever is left of him.", he checks the power pack to see if it causing any discomfort.

Aldercon looks around at the other animals Ihron keeps in the barn, a few cows, some chickens specifically taken from an industrial farm several miles away and a few emotional support animals like sheep and domestic pigs. "Hmm. I see you're doing a good job. Primarch would be proud of your compassion for these beasts.", he gives him a firm handshake. He can't help but look back at the bear and attempt to intimidate her one last time.

She looked rather bored, until she was able to manipulate the muscles in her snout into a creepy, unnatural grin.

"oH sweet mother of-", he almost grabs his chest.

Ihorn and Sha'kal both laugh, "GOOD GIRL PETUNIA!", he gives her a hug for her little stunt.

Petunia gives a victorious roar, and gives Ihron a lick to the face.

As he continued to giggle, Sha'kal turned to see an unhumored Aldercon. "Oh my bad sir. We were planning that prank for weeks."

With a stern nod of head, "oh brother. Come on, let's continue the briefing".

The both of them leave the and head to the "farm house", as the two squeeze in through the threshold, a covert operation of digital surveillance is under way. As the two marine walk through, members of different chapters contribute to the complex communications system that has been spying the United States and several other countries decades before the FBI or the CIA.

"anything?", Aldercon quietly asked one member of the Ultramarines surveying the movement of the stock exchanges, monetary spending and shockingly enough the cash flow of several other developed nations on a set of 8 monitors. Hyperfocused, the marine just wags his finger 'no'. "Good work", he gives the marine a pat the back.

Walking over to an empty desk, he looks at the neatly kept but rather personalized workspace of the only confirmed Raven Guard in the country.

Letting out a deep disappointed sigh, "where is he?", he turns to see several members stop and look at the desk. Some of them silently nodding or gesturing uncertainty. "Has anyone here seen Wick?".

Giving a clarify cough, "um I believe he went 'to the field ', at least that's how he worded it to me.".

Aldercon is no stranger to rebellious behavior. When he first appeared on Earth around a hundred and twenty years ago, he had at several points been married, has had children and watched them grow up throughout their stages of life. He is certain this is one of those times, however a human teenage son is one thing, a fully grown adult Astartes fresh from his time as a neophyte is a completely different matter of frustration. "I see.....well ....did he keep his tracking system on?"

One of the fist's working on GPS tracking searches for Wick's location. "Ah yes, he is currently in Nevada."

He takes a double take, "WHAT?!"

The fist looks at the data on Wick's location. "Hmm...he's on the move but he is in government airspace."

Cupping his hands to his temples, massaging away the pent up frustrations he had just built up. "Can things get ANY more complicated?"

"3 Boogies at 12 o'clock sir. Heading to the north side of the wall.", one of the other Marines announces.

"oh goodie....the sons of Russ.... just in for a visit.", he isn't much better hearing this.

"wait they have a civilian with them", suddenly he feels the room's tone change from tense to dangerous.

Seething with rage, one rule Aldercon has been strict on enforcing is the restricted access of the Fort to moral humans. ".....Ssssssssteeeennnnnnnnnn......". He leaves fuming.

"oh dear, Aldercon please calm down!", Sha'kal runs after the chaplain in hopes he doesn't kill anyone on the way to the wall.

The room stood quite, with nothing but the beeps and pings of the monitors. All of them had gone right back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the trees past the four us, with the wind on my face and the careful dodging of branches, it felt like I was flying. I couldn't believe this was happening. Not only the cabin, but a pack of mysterious space soldiers? Forget about the inheritance money, this beats that any day!

However, I should be a little more careful with being caught up in this, I barely know these men. For all I know they could be making it up ...the more I think about it, the more I wonder why all this? Was this something I genuinely deserved? What if something else happens?

The trio stop, Sten smells the air, trying to pick up a sent. "this way.", he points his body to the direction of the mountain range nearby. As the pack continues, I have a sudden nagging feeling crawl up my spine.

"wait, you guys said this was a fort right?", I ask loudly as the brushing of leaves slightly drowns my voice out.

Fjord, practically prancing in the brush, "yes lass! It's an Imperial Fist fort! Best in the business and probably filled to the brim with traps! It's gonin to be fun!".

"Ay, are you daft!? The girl is with us, and she doesn't have any armor! Unless she's some covert Battle Sister I say we be careful.", As Toke dodged a branch, he tossed one on to what looked like a safe clearing but was actually a huge automatic trap.

I began to worry, I didn't care if these guys were heavily armored or if I didn't know them, I just didn't want them getting hurt.

"tis all right Lorey, we will keep you safe. I won't let any harm come to you.", I could feel Sten's grip adjusting to secure me. The fact he carried me here was a feat in it's own.

Their pace slowed down and soon we reached a concrete wall. This was bigger than anything current military fencing, it just looked like a thick, eerie wall. I could see graffiti and posters scattered throughout. "What the....who...built this?", I could imagine the workforce that took the time to do it.

"well, it looks we're going up!", Toke had pressed a few buttons on his arms, switching on a set of claws on his gauntlets.

Sten placed me down gently to do the same, "my dear, you will have to climb up onto my back, I have switched off the power pack so the exhaust ports do not burn you.".

I it was only now I noticed the jetpack on his back, it looked like it had little let engines on it, I climbed up and held tight. "Well, ugh...you guys are going to climb the wall, shouldn't you guys have a rope or something?".

Fjord chuckled a little, "no lass, we can handle this little obstacle all on our own.", enabling his own set of claws, the three had made a running start to the Wall's surface. All ready clearing 10 feet up the concrete barrier.

Suddenly, someone shouts from the other side.

"HAULT! PASSWORD!", the voice commanded.

No one knew what to say or do.....I had begun to worry.

"YOUR MOTHER!", unsurprisingly Fjord had the perfect response.

The sound of scuffling metal plating quickly making it's way to the top, loud exacerbated huffing and a yellow helmet peaking furiously from the top.

"PASSWORD REJECTED!", the yellow armored man then pointed a shockingly large gun at Fjord. The second the trigger was fired, that same horrifying blast erupted from the barrel like a high-speed rocket. Nearly hitting Fjord.

Dodging with unnatural grace and speed, Fjord quickly climbed up before and tackled the guard, both falling back behind the wall.

Judging from the time it took to hear a THUD, they may have fell rough 25 feet down.

I was still recovering from the shots fired, I turn to see a crater on the side of the wall where Fjord had dodged what I assumed was a missile. "FJORD! Oh crap is he ok?!".

Toke and Sten quicken their pace up the wall.

"Do not worry about him, the fall will knock some sense in him.", Toke clawed at the concrete.

As soon as the three have reached the top of the wall, we were met with several of them pointing guns at our direction....and one big furious looking guy with greyed hair was staring daggers at us.

"STEN! YOU TAKE ONE MORE STEP WITH THAT MORTAL CIVILIAN HERE AND I WILL PUT YOUR IDIOT BROTHER DOWN!", he points to Fjord pinned down to the ground by two other Marines, trying to bite their hands.

Sten and Toke had locked it up.

"You know just as well as I do that killing another Astartes is not deeply frowned upon, and in our current circumstance....an act of heresy on its own!", Sten stood his ground, but I can tell he was trying to cooperate.

I was starting to feel guilty for being in this mess, "Sten what's going on?".

"Do not fret, Aldercon is just a little more cautious than the rest of us ....", he tried to assure me, however I've been in enough situations to know that stare of his had a history.

End of Log 6

@kit-williams @barn-anon

#space marine husbandry #warhammer 40k #survival log #imperial fists #space marine #space marines #space marine husbandry sentience

22 notes · View notes