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ladamedusoif · 4 months

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Long Distance - Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2000

Warnings: SMUT; Established relationship; Reader lives in Europe; No physical description of Reader; Older!Marcus; Marcus with a PhD; FaceTime sex; masturbation (F and M); oral sex (F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; dirty talk; come (cum) play

Summary: Happily settled with you on the other side of the Atlantic and now working primarily in consultancy, Dr Marcus Pike sometimes finds himself travelling back to the US for work. But there’s always video calling, right?

A/N: I got...carried away. Ahem. I'm not really using taglists any more so follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications. Thank you @agentjackdaniels for previewing this smutty little story.

You never really sleep easy when he’s not here. Strange, after all those years on your own, comfortably splayed out across your large mattress. A year of sharing a bed with Marcus, though, and you feel unsettled without him.

The display on your sunrise alarm clock reads 1.30am when your phone lights up with a message.

You still awake? x

Your fingertips tap out a swift response.

Very much so. x

You settle yourself and your phone as the call comes through. A moment of connection, and there he is: Marcus. Your Marcus, looking so very distinguished with his wavy, silver-streaked hair, warm eyes, and mischievous, boyish smile. He breaks into a wide grin as you appear on the screen.

“There you are, baby.”

"Here I am, love. How are you doing?” You cast a glimpse over the schlubby old FBI t-shirt he sometimes wears lounging around the house. “Are you in bed already?”

Marcus groans and rolls his eyes. “Yup, pretty much. I’m so tired, the clients all want to start at the crack of dawn. Why are they all so obsessed with breakfast meetings here?”

You chuckle. “Sweet man, you’ve become Europeanised.”

"I mean, you do have the better coffee.” He props himself up, resting his chin on his hand. “I miss you so fucking much. It’s only been three days and I’m going crazy.”

"I miss you, too. But what is it - tonight, and then two more nights? And then you’re all mine again.”

Marcus’s chocolate-brown eyes soften as he smiles softly, taking you in. “God, I can’t wait. Fuck, you look so good. Is that the, uh… that nightdress?”

You preen a little for the camera, innocently moving your body ever so slightly. You’re confident that he’s now got an even clearer picture of your tits, nestled in the burgundy lace of your - and his - favourite strappy chemise.

“This old thing?”

He shakes his head and bites his lower lip, grinning. “You are a tease. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

"And what am I doing, Dr Pike? Use all that agent training, tell me. Decipher me.”

He licks his lips. “You’re showing off your beautiful tits, knowing perfectly well I can’t stand not being able to touch them right now.”

You keep eye contact but trail a finger along the soft line of your cleavage, slipping it under the lace to flick gently over your nipple. All the way across the Atlantic, Marcus groans on his DC hotel room bed.

"Oh, I see. You liked that, hmmm?”

He nods. “You know I liked it, baby. Fuck, you are gorgeous, you know? Just…perfect.”

You notice his right arm moving a little, working at something off-screen.

“Are you hard, darling? Are you touching your cock?”

"Mmmm. Yeah, just - just through my shorts.” His gaze flits from your tits to your eyes and back, his breath a little laboured. “You turn me on so much, feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Will you jerk off for me, Marcus? Let me see how hard I make you. Please.” With a flutter of your eyelids you slip down the spaghetti straps of your chemise to reveal your breasts, nipples hard and soft flesh spilling over the lace cups.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. Yes. Hold on -“ He reaches for his phone and angles it just so, so you can see him tugging down the dark grey sweat shorts and his hard, thick cock springing free against his tummy. He wraps his right hand around it, gently pulling back the foreskin to reveal the head already weeping with pre-come.

Now it’s your turn to whine as your pussy clenches around nothing, reacting to the sight of his cock ready and waiting and so far away. Marcus grins as he continues to stroke himself.

"Think you need to play with your pussy, too.”

You nod and slip a hand between your legs, gathering some of your growing wetness and displaying it to him on your fingers. “See how much I miss you, love?”

He speeds up a little, fucking into his fist and never taking his eyes off you. “Fuck, I wish my mouth was on that pretty little cunt of yours. Wish I was eating you out right now, baby.”

"And I wish I had your gorgeous, hard cock in my mouth, darling.” You start to rub harder, insistent circles over your swollen clit and moan as you listen to the sound of your boyfriend jerking off.

He moans and closes his eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me, what would you do?”

“I’d use my tongue - lick the shaft, first, the way you like it.” The sound of your wetness is lewd and arousing. “Then - oh, fuck - take you into my mouth, suck the head, stroke you with my hand…”

Marcus pauses to spit into his hand, a poor substitute for the lubrication offered by your slick. “Keep going. Keep fucking going, love.”

“Fuck, I wish I had that gorgeous cock inside me.” You slip a finger inside your pussy and whine at the sensation as you press on the sensitive spot he knows exactly how to work. “M’finger is nothing, need you.”

Marcus pants as he continues to stroke his cock, and pulls up his t-shirt to expose his belly. He’s getting close. “Wish I was fucking you, too. Feeling - oh, fuck - all of you on my cock, pulling out and…” He screws up his face and groans and your cunt aches for him. “Fuck, I want to come on your tits.”

Your free hand finds your breast as you continue to rut against your hand, fingers pinching the nipple and massaging the flesh. It’s your Marcus. He deserves a show, and you’re only too happy to deliver. He grunts and groans, never taking his eyes off you.

“I’m really close, Marcus.” Your hips buck upward as you near your peak. “I’m gonna come for you - fuck, gonna -“

He strokes himself furiously, desperately, as he watches you reach orgasm - and talks you through it.

"Jesus, look at you. Coming on your own hand - oh, fuck - getting yourself off for me. Good girl. Good - fuck, gonna come - fucking good girl.”

He comes hard, angling his cock so that the white, viscous come hits his bare tummy. Your cunt still aches for him.

“I wish I was there to clean you up, Marcus.”

He chuckles and lies back on the pillows, curls damp with sweat and a huge smile on his face. He grabs his phone so you can see him. “Right back at you. Bet you’re so wet now, huh?”

“Soaked.”

“Fuck. Hope you’re ready for when I come home, baby.”

In the early morning, your sleeping form rests peacefully in your large bed, an arm cuddling a pillow to your torso for comfort. When you’d set your alarm the night before, you reminded yourself that you just had two more nights before he was home again.

Two more nights. Two more sleeps. And then: him. Him. Only him.

A shifting weight on the mattress stirs you, still halfway between waking and slumber. In the hazy half-light, you turn your head and find a beautiful, familiar sight.

“Hi, baby.”

“M-Marcus? What are you - did I get my dates wrong? I thought you were back tomorrow…”

“I was supposed to be,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “and I took an earlier flight because I just missed you so much. Hey - is that my shirt?”

You nod, turning your body wholly towards him and nuzzling against him. “It is. Your Georgetown T-shirt, I just - it feels like you.” He pulls you close and kisses the top of your head. “Marcus - what about the work?”

He hums happily. “The clients were happy, and there isn’t much more to do that I can’t do from here.”

He moves his lips to your neck, softly nipping and licking the delicate skin as his big hands work their way under the T-shirt and up to your breasts.

“I have been thinking about this the whole way home.”

You giggle. “Oh really? And you were able to keep yourself under control?”

Marcus kisses you on the mouth as he nods, fingers kneading your tits. “My self-discipline was tested, I admit, but oh, fuck, baby…”

Your hands are on his crotch, feeling the growing hardness under the grey sweatpants he likes to wear on long-distance flights. You lean into his ear as you tug down the sweats and his boxers, taking his cock in your hand.

“Why don’t you see if I’m still wet from the other night?”

With a groan, Marcus slips his hand between your legs and finds the wetness already pooling at your core. “Pretty fucking wet, baby.” He sucks his fingers clean of your slick before shucking off his sweatshirt and tee.

“Good.” You sit up and quickly straddle him, his thighs between yours as you peel off the old T-shirt so you’re completely bare for him. “I’m going to make you feel so good, darling man.”

You gather some of your own slick across your palm and fingers before taking his cock in your hand, stroking the velvet skin of the shaft and gently bringing your palm over the head in a fluid motion that you know drives him wild. Marcus watches your hands as you pleasure him, little animalistic noises issuing forth from his beautiful mouth as he grows ever harder under your practiced touch.

“Do you want me?”

He nods furiously and you lift yourself up to shift forward, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Tell me, Marcus.”

"Need you so fucking bad, baby. Please.”

You take him inside you in one stroke, your wetness easing his thick cock into the tightness of your pussy. Marcus cries out as you begin to ride him, hands pressed into his broad chest.

“Better than the phone sex, huh?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you hiss, hips rolling in a well-established rhythm as you fuck him. “Liked watching you jerk off to me, though.”

"Me too, baby.” Marcus grips your hips and grins as he admires you: your body, your curves, the way you’re letting yourself go as you ride his cock. You bite your lip and roll back your head, lost in the sensation of how your man stretches and fills you so perfectly.

When you slip a finger against your clit, he practically growls, meeting your rhythm as he starts to fuck up into you.

“‘M not gonna last, baby,” he pants, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips and ass.

“You want to come on my tits, like you said?”

His desperate nod is your cue to lift yourself off his cock, glistening with your slick and his pre-come, and shuffle down the bed a little. You press your breasts together as Marcus wraps his broad hand around his cock and pumps it quickly.

“Fuck, your tits are pretty. So fucking soft and perfect and -“

He stutters and cries out as he comes, his release hitting your breasts and gathering on the hard peaks of your nipples.

You gather some of it up on your finger and suck it clean.

“Jesus, baby. That’s so fucking hot.”

You release your finger with a pop. “Thank you, love. Can you get me a cloth?”

He wanders off and returns with a washcloth, gently cleaning your body and his cock before returning it to the bathroom. By the time he gets back, you’re tucked under the covers again. He grins as he joins you, pulling your naked body to his.

“Missed you.” You wind an errant, silver-streaked curl around your finger. “It feels like there’s something missing when you’re not here.”

Marcus kisses your forehead and you nuzzle up against his chest. “Don’t I know it? I felt exactly the same in DC, wondering where you were. Missed going to sleep beside you, waking up with you.”

You chuckle against the warm, sweat-damp skin of his chest, pressing your lips to the freckles dusted across his golden body. “And fucking me.”

He laughs, and the sound makes your heart soar. “That, too. But trust me - I’ll make it up to you.”

"Oh you will, huh?”

His coffee-brown eyes are as sincere and honest as ever. “Always and forever. Even with jet lag.”

dividers by @cafekitsune

#long distance fic #ladameecrit #la dame writes #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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thetimetraveler24 · 4 months

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So what kinds of songs do we think they’re singing at campfires? Like do we think Austin is giving some jazzy tunes with his saxophone? Is Will arguing country Taylor Swift vs Kayla arguing for pop Taylor? Is someone trying to get them to do some opera songs? Is someone suggesting Beyoncé? Does someone want AC/DC? Or Queen? Or Michael Jackson? Or Prince? What’s Camp Half-Blood’s definition of campfire music?

Like we see the This Land is Minos Land and stuff but what real world songs are they playing?

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xianoii · 2 years

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‧ ˏˋ SCARAMOUCHE ﹐ ◜ VENOM ! ◞ ̣ ͘ ─┈ I KNOW you’re right for me; ecstasy. I keep coming back for more.

ׄ     ׅ  ★̶̲ WARNINGS 、fem!reader ╱ brat taming ╱ dom/sub dynamics ╱ sensory deprivation ╱ bondage ╱ teasing ╱ mating press ╱ heavy degradation ╱ orgasm control ╱ orgasm denial ╱ cunnilingus ╱ multiple orgasms ╱ impact play ╱ rough sex ╱ breath play ╱ throatfucking ╱ name calling ╱ modern!au ╱ bdsm themes ╱ mild sir kink ╱ spit ╱ fuck buddies → lovers ╱ creampie ╱ gets sappy @ the end ╱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

ׄ     ׅ  ★̶̲ NOTE 、GUESS WHO TF WHOOO! i missed xianoii sm y’all don’t even know . . submitted *most of my assignments & finals N SUMMER BREAK IS HEREEE WOOO!!! comeback era in order: so yk i had to write for my boo thang . . wouldn’t be a xianoii post if scara wasnt slutting us (me) out ^_^ pretty pls don’t let this flop n let me know u still love me 🥹🤲🏽 kk more info abt xianoii comeback era posted l8er! ts is kinda messy but nonetheless enjoyy my loves mwah! *reposting with working tags!

ׄ     ׅ  ★̶̲ WORD COUNT 、6.1k ( complete accident )

YOU SEARCH FOR something more in your relationship with Scaramouche. You can’t figure out why. He intrigues you to the extent of adoration, which blooms into branching feelings of varying scale. Obsession, greed, and attraction; are just a small piece of what he brings out of you. You feel a myriad of emotions when he’s added to the picture, and you can’t help but lose all composure and act on impulse. Perhaps that's why you did something as dumb as this: Stripping yourself of clothing until only the thin and laced fabric of your panties and hardly opaque fabric of your dainty tanktop covered your body, your shirt ridden up your abdomen to just beneath where your breasts fall, your clear skin blemished by the words etched above your waistline; “Miss You”. The words are sloppily written above a crooked arrow pointed downward, right where you needed him. You knew he was never willingly generous or kind with you, and with you teasing him like this, you were anticipating what was waiting for you.

You weren’t anything more than fuck-buddies— if you could even call it that. Scaramouche used you when he wanted you. It was never a dire need, a complete opposition as to how your approach to your relationship was. A part of you was aware of that, yet, it didn’t drive you away. Maybe you were just a masochist, liking every and any way he broke you down. Or, maybe, you saw something in him that was a key ingredient to the recipe of your situation. Whatever the case, anticipation ate you alive, your fingers clicking back to your messages every few seconds to see if he’d seen what you sent him. Your teeth subconsciously sunk into your bottom lip, and it wasn’t long until your mouth upturned in a smile, the “Delivered” shifting into a “Read” after what felt like an eternity. It was only a matter of his response, and the time between him getting on the road to your house.

Scaramouche isn’t as enthusiastic as you with this photo. You knew better than to tease him, and the fact that you’d even thought up something like this, let alone execute it. On one hand, he’s somewhat flattered that you miss him enough to drive yourself into desperation. It’s pitiful how far you’re willing to embarrass yourself just for his attention— he can’t help but feel pity for you. Your message gains no response from him, and with a swift look at his watch, he sighs, grabbing his things before heading out of the office door.

Now is the time to reflect on what you’ve done. You knew teasing him would come with repercussions, but you’ve never faced anything like this before. Your arms find themselves rubbing against soft fabric, bound behind your back and unable to touch anything but themselves and the softness of your bedsheets. Your eyes are blinded by the blindfold wrapped around your face, your body completely restricted from the right you have, only to be replaced with what Scaramouche is serving you; an antagonizing wait.

You can’t feel him. You don’t hear him, and God, a small part of you has your heart pounding in fear, your mind running a mile a minute in cycling thoughts of what’s in store for you. You’d pissed him off before, and you’re well aware he’s not the generous type, especially with teasing, but your desperation got the better of you, and all you can do now is wait. Clench your thighs in hopes he won’t keep you waiting any longer, your teeth gnawing on the insides of your cheek softly, your hands and arms subconsciously wriggling behind your back. And while you fight for your freedom, Scaramouche watches you in annoyance. What is your problem with him? Do you like being treated the way he treats you? What is it about him that has you grappling at straws for his attention..has you willingly waiting for him to stomp into your home angrily to bind you on your mattress with his tie? Do you think you’re something to him because you’re surely mistaken if you do. You’re nothing but one of many who’ll take the chance out of any day to please him. You don’t intrigue him in the way he does you. He doesn’t long for you in the same way. He doesn’t care for you outside of the use you provide in serving and pleasing him. And maybe he’s made a mistake in pursuing you too often, but you’re his favorite plaything.

He can’t lie and say he doesn’t like and long for you on occasion—because he does; but only when you can serve him. At this moment, he’s contemplating how you can do so. Your desires aren’t greater than his, in his opinion, but somehow, he can only sit and watch your neediness expand with the thought of giving you want weighing heavy in the back of his mind. With a very heavy sigh, Scaramouche creeps over to the bed. You missed him? You needed him? You’re getting him.

He’s back. You feel the mattress beneath you sink under his weight, “S-Scara? I…” he hushes you, a finger pressing against your lips, a light but stern ‘Shh’ following. “You’ve said enough. I don’t want to hear another word come from you.” You feel him pull further from your body the movements on the mattress indicating he’s further down. A nod from you is in response, and you swear you hear him smile, a light chuckle emitting from the man. You go a few seconds with no speaking before you feel his soft fingers brush against your calves, running up and down your lower leg. It’s not long before teasing lines are drawn up your right leg by his fingertip, his hands inching closer and closer to your inner thigh. Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers run over your clothed cunt, the soiled fabric eliciting a sigh from the man. “When I saw your picture, heh, all I could think about…”

“...about how fuckin’ pathetic you are.” as the words fall from his lips, his hand cups your cunt, middle and index fingertips pressing against your lips. The heel of his hand presses against your clit, a small gasp escaping your gaped lips, which are immediately zipped shut, feeling that intimidating gaze lays upon your face. You feel him rise higher, his head level with yours. “A pathetic bitch. Is this what you wanted? What you missed?” you feel his fingers press harder against your cunt, fighting against the fabric to feel the pulse beating. “You missed this? You had so much confidence, so tell me now.”

You’re excited despite the nervous gulps and silence that consume you. What's been a little less than two weeks feels like a lifetime of not having him, and with him here, on top of you, audibly angry, giving you just what you needed is like heaven. You're in bliss, even though you're aware that in the next few moments, you’ll be completely and utterly destroyed. You nod, hearing a scoff from the man. He's not pleased. Whether you're trying to purposefully piss him off or not, you're succeeding. “Answer me when I'm talking to you. I've taught you better than that.” you feel his fingers pinching at the fabric, adding pressure that has your hips bucking on their own. “..Yes…yes, sir.”

He chuckles and you swear that’s the first time this whole night he’s shown you a bit of softness. He doesn't praise you; instead, he keeps his mum, those fingers that teased you pushing your panties to the side, exposing your soaked cunt to the warm puffs of air that blow from his steady exhales. Your scent fills his nose, that familiarity and softness bringing him back to times before. He never went down on you for you– but him, and here, this is all for your torment.

His tongue licks over his lips, his neck craning further downward, the faintest meeting of his lips to yours leaving you jolting. “You missed me here..?” he whispers faintly. The words are spoken against your labia, your body reacting to every syllable spoken. His tongue licks a stingy stripe from your entrance to your clit, wedging between your folds to collect a sample tasting of your slick. A low moan vibrates gutturally from him, the sheer sound leaving your thighs to instinctively close around his head. “Yes, I did…I do, sir. I need you so bad right now,” your voice tries to latch on to stability, but with the way his tongue lightly treads around your clit and tenderly toys with the bud, teasing you as he gradually builds up pressure– you're stuck masking whines with your words.

He hums in response to your words, his lips wrapping around your throbbing clit, applying heavy pressure while beating his tongue softly against it, matching the pace of the beat that sings your neediness. He finds amusement in the way you're squirming, attempting so hard to keep your sounds low and your body opens and available to him. Everything you do in response is to ensure his happiness regarding you. You don't and won't get anything if you've ticked him off, and he's glad you know that, because he can do things like this to you: abusing your clit slowly but surely, sucking and quietly slurping at your folds and skillfully bringing you to your peak without laying a finger on you. Your moans are getting harder to contain, your voice breaking as you fight it off.

That knot begins binding in your tummy, and it's now that you begin fighting against your constraints, your hips lifting off the bed and further into his face. You're so close you can taste the euphoria on your tongue, and your eyes are beginning to roll beneath your blindfold. You're almost there. So close, so close– and it's gone. As fast as it came, it went, Scaramouche pulling off from you- not before sinking his teeth into your thigh, peering up at you from below. You swallow down all the things you want to say to him, knowing better than speaking to him when you knew it was too good to be true. “You're not going to cum that easily. You didn't earn it.” and you knew that. But you hoped he’d adopted some leniency toward you, but your dream was swiftly shut down by his body completely moving up, his legs over yours. “I don't think you've gotten it through your skull,”

He pauses, his left hand smacking on the side of your head before yanking the blindfold upward, letting your eyes fall upon his flat features. His right hand reaches out to your face, his index finger sliding under your chin, craning your head up to meet his intense gaze. “I'm not pleased with you at all. You reek of desperation, and your incessant pawing at my attention is irksome. Do you think that warrants an orgasm?”

Your eyes readjust to the light, your slow blinks focusing your gaze upon him. He's speaking softly to you, but you know in the layers of those words is thick malice. You've done the one thing he told you to never do. Bother him outside of your agreement. Your conversations begin and end with him. No matter how needy you are or how much you miss him, you do not contact him. You are his and not vice-versa. Your “relationship” does not step out of the boundaries of his word and your submission, and the fact you purposely and idiotically defied that…he's not letting up anytime soon. “Answer me when I'm fucking talking to you.”

“No. I’m sorry, I am! It's just..it’s been a while since we last saw each other and I–” he stops you immediately, his thumb slipping between your lips. “Do you think I care?”

He adjusts his hand to grip your chin, his fingertips pressing and smushing your cheeks. With a sigh, he roughly lets go of your face. “Let's put it in a language you can understand.”

Before you can even think, his hands have shot directly for his belt, efficiently undoing the buckle and pulling down the zipper, the waistband peeling out and teasing his solid black boxers. It's then that it registers what he wants. He slips his hand into his boxers, his other hand slightly pulling down his bottoms to allow him to easily pull out his cock; semi-hard and the tip gradually flushing red, pre-cum beginning to pool in the slit. He doesn't say a word when he places his fingers beneath your lips, and you already know. You let a glob of spit drop out of your mouth, falling onto his fingers. It's torturous as he lets his fingers run over his dick, slicking it up with your saliva with slow and deep breaths, his eyes fixated on the way your face easily tells on you. His cock is only centimeters away from your face, and from the way he's slowly and sensually stroking himself, you're fighting the urge to beg for him to end the teasing.

“Make yourself useful. Open up.” he’s repositioning his body, shoving you flush against the headboard, angling his hips to meet your tongue, sliding the tip onto your tongue, and slowly easing in. He pushes all the way in until his tip knocks at the back of your throat, your tongue slathering the underside in saliva. He sighs contently as you envelop him in the warmth of your mouth, your lips suctioning immediately to the tip. Scaramouche grabs the back of your head, angling you perfectly as he pulls his hips out, teasing you with the tip left between your lips. “Wider.” is all he says before thrusting his cock to the hilt in your mouth, crowding it with his girth. He hears your gags - hurried and frantic, attempting to adjust and accommodate for him.

It doesn't take long before Scaramouche is steadily building a pace in his thrusts, gradually going faster and deeper with each drive of his hips. His eyes bore into yours, watching as they gloss over like freshly lacquered floors, tears brimming your waterline and barely holding up - threatening to spill. The sounds of you choking on his dick is like music to his ears, and with a sigh, he's slowing down, alternating in speed for his amusement. “Bob your head. Give it a nice suck.” and you comply.

You tighten the suction of your lips around his shaft, swirling your tongue around - top to bottom, slicking him up with running globs of saliva. You quietly moan as you do so, fluttering your eyes back and forth between eye contact with him and the protruding veins peering back at you. You can tell it's been some time since his last release, the look in his eyes carnal. It's hard to not feel intimidated under his gaze, and you feel yourself cowering beneath him, slacking on your duty. Scaramouche is aware of the effect he has on you, – you wouldn't be in this situation had he not – and he sees the way you falter. In his mind, it seems as though you're dead set on pissing him off. The one thing you're good at, and you can't even finish the job?

It's in the blink of an eye that his palm is cracking against the skin of your cheek, his hand immediately slipping between your locks and gripping tightly, yanking you back. You wince— you're fucked.

“I was going easy on you…but you must like being treated like a whore.” he grits through his teeth. A mixture of annoyance, sexual frustration, and anger burns an inferno in his eyes, the grip on your hair tight and the sting of your cheek strong. “Gave you a simple fuckin’ task. Pathetic bitch can't even do that right.” you want to argue back– but you know anything you say won't change his mind. He's been plenty lenient, and whether you agree or not, he's done extending fair play. The ball’s been in his court, but now, it's stuck.

“I'm gonna fuck you up.” he grips your hair impossibly tighter, pulling your head back until it knocks against the headboard. “Gonna pull your hair like this..” he then removes his grip, his hand instead slapping against your face in small smacks. “..Bruise up this pretty face…” his eyes meet yours briefly. The two of you are on opposing sides of this predicament— you, who just missed him and was incredibly horny, and him, who just wants someone to control. His threats would've scared anyone away. Sent them scurrying with their tail between their legs. But you, you're something different. A masochistic attention whore, for starters— but you're also loving. Though he's berating you and treating you like scum beneath his shoe, you still peer up at him with those eyes, full of adoration. And so when your eyes meet, only briefly, Scaramouche withers with pity, because only you would let him treat you like this, but still look at him like that. Perhaps the feeling is mutual, but he’ll never admit it.

His thumbs slither between your lips as the rest of his fingers tangle in your hair, the digits granting him a grip on your head. His thumbs stretch your lips as wide as they could. “...and fuck your face. Stick your tongue out and take it.” you comply. He lowers your head to his hard-on, slamming you onto it. The entire shaft disappears in your mouth, and the tip kisses the back of your throat. It's not long before he’s thrusting into your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin and your tongue struggling to keep up with the rough thrusting into your mouth.

He drinks up your chokes, groaning and cursing every time your gags vibrate against the sensitive head of his cock. Your eyes water again, peering up at him with sweetness, as if to silently ask for less, but to no avail, you're ignored. Drool runs down your face and his cock, spit dribbling down to his balls and painting him messily. You wish you could move your arms, your fingers wiggling and hands moving wildly for something to grab and clutch. He's amused at your attempts. Your movement is only helping him anyway.

You're sure your throats got to be bruised, at this point. The air is hard to inhale through your nose, and you're stuck trying to breathe around the girth of his dick, wheezing, tightening your throat around him. Though it's not intentional, it sends shivers up his spine and he's much more vocal, trying to mask moans beneath tough grunts. He's slowing down, burying you at the hilt of his cock until your nose upturns on his pelvis, your lips wrapped around the base, and your tongue dancing over as much as you could. “A-ah, fuck…just like that. Fuck…”

He’s long since peeled his thumbs from the corner of your mouth, hands residing behind your head until now; his left hand running down to your neck, wrapping his grip around the shaft and squeezing, tightening you on his cock. You feel like the air is being stripped from you and you keep telling yourself ‘Breathe, just breathe’ but to no avail, the lack of air throws you into a panic. Your protests and thrashing only have him cursing in longer, drawn-out strings. In seconds he’s pulling out, his hands leaving you and rushing to his cock. He pumps himself fiercely, all of your spit and his precum driving him directly to his high. “Fuckfuck— open..your mouth-! Swallow m—” he’s cut off with his own guttural groan erupting, his cum shooting thick onto your lower face until you open your mouth, catching as much as you can. Your jaw hurts and you're sure that it’ll take a while for you to recover, but you're quick to be good for him, leaning forward and licking the sensitive tip, cleaning him up.

Scaramouche comes down from his high, his low eyes softly laying his gaze upon you. He sinks into your mattress, catching his breath and wiping away the sweat that beads at his hairline. His hand reaches to your face, thumb swiping up a rope of cum that missed your face, pressing the digit between your lips. You, eager to please and even more eager for him to let up on you, suck and swirl around the digit, your eyes never leaving him. With a sigh, “...how do you want me first?”

You've finally got him. Pounding into your cunt mercilessly, his grip on your waist and right leg. Your leg stands tall in the air, occasionally draping over his shoulder with your toes curling. Your leg pulls him into you more, his hips slapping against yours with euphoric fervor, driving you straight to the edge with no warning.

You're at your third orgasm at this point, your cunt decked down with your arousal and cum. Your clit throbs in neglect, your entire body burning and begging for attention from him– but all he seems to care about is dumping another load onto your body. His teeth are gritted and his eyebrows are furrowed. His grip is so tight on your skin that you're sure bruises have begun to form under the relentless slapping and groping of his calloused palms. Scaramouche can't get enough. The contraction of your pussy around him and the squelch it elicits every time he plunges his cock in, the way you moan his name endlessly and effortlessly, the way you attempt to grip and claw at anything even though he’s still got your arms bound behind your back– simply, the way you allow him to use you, but you still want him. Long for him. You cry his name because he makes you feel good even though you know the favor won't be returned. You let him bruise you up and slap you around like a ragdoll, and it's fine because he likes it. Everything you do is a response to and for him, and it's only now he realizes the feeling is mutual.

He wouldn't be fucking you hard like this had he not enjoyed your body. It's because you're what he's always wanted that he comes back; no matter how much you irk him and spoil his mood. And yeah, he may treat you like shit sometimes, but you never feel resentment toward him. Now, at this moment, Scaramouche knows you're right for him.

“‘M cumming!-- Oh my G—” your voice resurfaces in his mind and pulls him back, his thoughts pushed aside to tend to your approaching high. His pace slows and his thrusts go deeper, knocking at your sweet spot repeatedly until your voice dissipates and you squeal in place of words. Your body tenses and jerks before you let that knot unravel, a large and satisfying groan escaping your mouth as you orgasm. He's pulling out from you and letting you collapse for a moment. He watches and slightly admires you as you pant heavily.

Without a word, he's grabbing you by the tie around your wrists, flipping you to your back. While he's over you, his fingers fiddle with the knot, promptly untying you and tossing the tie to the pile with the rest of your clothes and his pants. “Are you leaving?” you almost sound disappointed. You are though, as you are every time your time together gets severed. He shakes his head, “Do you want me to stay?”

There's a softness in his tone that you're not familiar with. Complete with the way he's looking at you: gazing down upon your fucked out state with something akin to admiration, rather than the look of pure disgust you're used to…you're lost. Do you want him to stay? You've never been given this option. “Can you?” you don't know what's going on, or what's going to happen now that he's here for longer than expected. It's been a bit over an hour since he tied you up to have his way with you, and after then, he's usually gone to never be heard from or seen again until he needs you.

The silence is deafening. “Can I ask you a question?” he waits for your answer. You nod slowly, chewing haphazardly on the inside of your lip. “What do you think of me? …Outside of..this?” you pause. Why’s he asking you this?

“Well, I already told you I missed you, and I think you're well aware of how you make me feel,” you're nervous. You pause and giggle, readjusting your position to lay comfortably on your side, playing with your fingers. “I guess…there isn't much to express. What I really think about is the you I don't know. You when we aren't together, what goes on in your mind when we are— I just want to know you, I guess.” he expected that the least. He knew you were infatuated with him, that much was clear, but…you wanted to know him? He hadn't had anybody take a true interest in him the way you do. “I dunno. I don't want this to be weird so take what I said lightly.”

It's too late for that. “Good…I-uh–” he stops himself. It sounds like he has something to say, and you've never seen him so choked up before. “I don't know what it is, but I think I feel the same? And if I do, then what?” he doesn't know what he's saying. Why is he saying this to you? He hopes and prays you aren't making fun of him. He portrays himself to you as a boss. He takes control of you and demolishes any sense of strength you have because he's dominant. He never had to open up, and he's never felt this way about somebody to even assess how he feels. All he knows is that when you're around, the ache is subdued and he can fulfill you both in the best way he knows.

Your eyes blink back at him, you must be dreaming? There is…it can't be. You're confused too, but someone has to take the lead, and you do. You prop yourself up on your knees, level with him, and bore your eyes into his. You tear a page from his book, “Let me put it in a language you can understand.” and before he can even respond, you're latching to him, pressing your puckered lips to his in a deep kiss. This is something you’ve never shared before– ever. He doesn't kiss you, he usually doesn't pay you any mind aside from you servicing him, but he doesn't stop you. Evidently, he's shocked but not stopping, allowing the kiss to deepen. His hands find yours, his traveling down to your wrists. He lifts your arms in the air, holding them until pushing you back on the bed, pinning your arms above you. You moan into the kiss as he bites down on your bottom lip, your back arching before your entire body grinds upward to him.

It gets incredibly heated almost instantly, and it's not long before your bodies are grinding against each other, re-igniting the flame that roared between you not too long before. “S-Scara..?” you manage to whimper out, his lips leaving yours and trailing down your body, a steady road of kisses drawn to the valley of your breasts, where his tongue takes action and licks around, teasing when he gets to your areola only to proceed with kissing around. It's only when his lips wrap around the hardened bud of your right breast does he hum in response, his indigo eyes that are usually filled with malice shining in lust. You choke out a moan, shivering as the new feel of his lips around your nipple engulfs you. “One more…I need you–!”

Your whispers of ‘please, please, one more, please’ don't fall on deaf ears, a smirk etching over his face as he buries himself in your tits, suckling on and toying with your nipples. He plans on giving you what you want– because trust, he wants it just as much as you do –but he wants to take his time with you. He wants to ravage you in a way he hasn't done before: slowly. With precision and the perfect amount of carnage that it drives you up the wall and wanting more. He wants to give you what he knew deep down all along that you deserved. Not someone to fulfill a fantasy of being useful, but for someone to take care of you. He meant what he said when he told you you were pathetic. But he is too. He wouldn't be basically nursing on your tits had he not been in the same boat as you.

He lets go of your arms, allowing his hands to run up and down the side of your body as he continues to trail his kisses down your body. You shudder when he reaches your thighs, and though he’s been down there too many times to count, you’re feeling brand new. You're not used to it in this scenario, and it's got your thighs pressing together in embarrassment. Peering back up at you, Scaramouche peels your thighs apart, “Nuh-uh. Keep ‘em nice and open. Just like this.”

You nod and keep your legs wide for him, watching intently as he sucks on the supple skin, marking you in deep shades of purple and red, prettily contrasting against your skin. And though they lay beside the marks his hands left on you earlier, he ignores them. View this as him making up for what he's done or him genuinely cherishing you– you don't mind, because you have him. “Scara..” God, call him that again. He looks up at you, laying his head on the plush of his thigh. Had you not known how fierce and ruthless he was, you'd gush and swear up and down he was innocent. “Please, now? I'm so ready for you…” your voice trails as you reach to his head, your left hand playing with the hairs that fall down over his eyes. Usually, begging like the way you are now doesn't get you anything— but this is no longer Scaramouche you're dealing with. This is the him you’ve been longing to know.

With no further conversation, he picks himself up and pushes your legs up to plant your feet on the mattress. He’s climbing on top of you, legs between yours as he pumps his cock, eyes on you as fuel for his libido, spit dripping from his lips to his incoming hard-on. Eyes locked on you, the male positions himself and lines up with your entrance, steadily pushing himself in. You're still dripping from your time earlier, your cunt inviting as he slides in, immediately bottoming out. And perhaps it's the change in attitude, but it feels so different. Your voices are unstoppable, slipping past in airy moans, your eyes fluttering before fixating on each other. He lets himself sit inside you for a moment, relishing the feel of you around him. And it's not like he hasn't been balls deep in you before, but it's only now that he's truly feeling you. Truly being in you. You're heavenly, and that's an indisputable fact.

He looks at you for the okay, to which you nod in response. He takes a different approach in the way he takes you, his right hand pressing on your stomach while the left hikes up your left leg on his shoulder, pulling out only to slam back in. This begins at a slow but deep pace, his hips colliding with yours with wet slaps of skin as a witness. Your moans are beautiful, and he swears they're more real–more authentic, somehow– in the way you sing them out. They sound more sensual, and possibly it’s the way he's fucking you. Taking his time with each thrust, angling his hips to hit the spot he knows gets your toes curling and eyes rolling. With your palms rubbing over your tits, your fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive nipples, you're in euphoria.

And though Scaramouche is taking a new approach with you— this isn't enough. In seconds, he's hiking up both of your legs, pushing them as far as they could go back, your ankles just hardly draping over his shoulders in this new position. He's wasting no time in using your legs as leverage, starting his thrusts again; this time with more fervor. His speed matches the pit of fire blazing in his stomach, his hips going back to what he knows best: fast, rough, and deep. He wants to take care of you, to ravish you sweetly and slowly, and he knows it’d be a preference of yours too, but he sees no protest in this, either. This entire time your eyes have not left each other once, drinking in the sight of one another like it's the first time you’ve seen each other.

Your hands are all over the place, flipping from gripping the sheets to groping your breasts, to reaching out for him, to toying with your clit. You're so used to him having you bound or holding you down that you're completely lost on what to do with yourself. The fact that your moans are even intelligible is crazy to you– you're always gagged, muffled, or told to shut the hell up. You feel so foreign but it doesn't bother you completely, because you've won. It might not have started out this way, and it may have taken 3 orgasms and a brutal facefuck, but you've gotten him to soften up and be real with you. You honestly don't know how, but you're overjoyed because it's not one-sided. You both feel something, and perhaps this can blossom into something more. You’ll just have to see.

You're both floating beyond cloud nine, your minds whirling in a repeated cycle of pleasure and each other. “Scara–! Fuck, I'm close!” your voice is shrill, hardly spoken in a coherent tone. He nods, pressing your legs into you harder before using his body as an anchor to hold them down. His hands wrap around your throat instead, gripping the shaft and applying pressure - the way he knows you like it. Your eyes widen and your mouth gapes open, the tightness of your abdomen feeling as though it's heightening your pleasure. He builds a glob of spit before shooting it in your mouth, watching as it mixes on your tongue before you swallow thickly. “Come on, pretty. Give it to me.”

Your hands scratch at his forearms, attempting to grab on and stabilize your jolting body. Your body doesn't agree, your hips bucking uncontrollably, your mind and body on separate wavelengths. Your mind is clouded, focused on the way Scaramouche is so attentive to your tells; flicking your clit every now and then, spitting down on your cunt, and applying extra pressure to your throat. You're so focused on the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration, his mouth switching between lowly spoken words and lip bites - ones so deep they could've drawn blood. You have a one-track mind, and your body is on several different tracks, mushing the asphyxiation and pressure on your neck with the surging pleasure that pulses from your pussy.

“Right there! Right there, harder, Scara– ahn- fuck!” you're on the tip of falling into your high. Scaramouche is quick to comply, slamming into your pussy hard. His grunts are guttural and more frequent, in sync with your moans as he hits you just right and you squeeze around him tight. “Yes! Pleaseplease – shit!” you're coming undone in no time. A wave of cum spills from your cunt, slipping past as Scaramouche approaches his high not too far after. “Cum in me…please. I wan- I want it ah– it all..!” having hardly come down from your high, you're crumbling apart from pleasure, but you're not too far gone to vocalize your pleasure.

“I got you— gonna give it all to you, princess.” that was it. You both find yourselves shaking, silently moaning as your highs creep up on you for the nth time, streams of cum meeting in the middle and mixing.

He slumps on top of you, your bodies giving out and falling limp. A few minutes of silence go by, and Scaramouche remembers what brought this on in the first place. You two had a lot to assess and a lot to talk about– but you needed a start. “Kunikuzushi.” he says it blankly and lowly. You look down at him, blinking in confusion. “Huh?”

“...Kunikuzushi. That's my name— er- it was my name.” he says, his fingers drawing inconsistent shapes on your skin. “Thought I should tell you…you can call me that if you want.”

With a giggle, you brush your fingers through his thin locks, a smile prominent on your sweaty face. “Yes, sir.”

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x you smut #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #scaramouche x you smut #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x y/n #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #〈 o͟n͟ ͟your ✿̶̲ ͟ queueˏ ⠀ .ᐟ 〉

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 1 year

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blessed new release is blessed. got a hybrid from my single cb pair + the jungle eggs are so easy to grab

#the nemesis speaks #swift plays dc #now if this person bites for eviled egg's baby and i can pocket another hybrid and some bonuses...#i wont be too upset if they go with another offer tho lol. ive already got goodies for today #edit: ohyeah and i got a 3g from trades to incubate. so i got one of each sprite

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reidsaurora · 7 months

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"With You, I'd Dance" ~ L. Alvez

Summary: When the last rainstorm of the year comes upon Washington DC, there's only one person you'd want to spend it with.

Pairing: Luke Alvez x GN!Reader

Word Count: 579

Content Warning: mild swearing, other than that it's just super fluffy <3

Extra Notes: when in doubt, name it after a Taylor Swift lyric

Originally Written: 10/19/2023 through 10/30/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

As soon as the slightest pitter-patter of raindrops started to fall on your balcony, you were jumping up from your couch and running to grab your coat.

Luke's soft chuckle floated through the room, filling your ears with a sound that you would play on repeat if it were possible. "Where are you going?"

"To play in the rain," you answered, shoving on your rain boots.

He jumped up from his spot on the sofa defensively. "Woah, babe, are you crazy? It's freezing out there. You'll catch a cold in seconds."

You simply shook your head, zipping up your coat and heading for the balcony. "It's the last true rainfall before snow starts. I'm not wasting it."

"Baby-"

You were already sliding open the glass door. "Luke, you can either bundle up and come catch a cold with me, or you can stay in here and watch your silly little sports team get their asses kicked."

He met you with narrowed eyes, his hands settling on his hips in exasperation. "They're just having a bad season," he grumbled, grabbing his coat from the rack.

A triumphant smile flashed across your face as Luke followed you outside, frowning as raindrops hit his face. Contrastingly, you were grinning as the water dripped down your own face, spinning around and taking it all in.

"How is this enjoyable?" he questioned, though a smile had plastered itself to his lips.

"See, this is why they say opposites attract," you rebutted. "One man's rain is another person's sunshine."

Luke chuckled, hands meeting your hips and pulling you in close. "And that's why you're always catching colds this time of year."

"I don't mind. No better feeling when you get to enjoy the beauty of a rainstorm," you replied, a content sigh following the words. "Dance with me?"

One of his hands moved from your waist to your hand, your fingers linking like puzzle pieces. His chin rested on the top of your head, his touch enveloping you like the warmest blanket. The rain cascaded around the two of you like a bubble, drowning out the rest of the world until it was just you and him.

"Sing for me?" you asked quietly, as if speaking too loud would shatter the protective dome you'd built for yourselves.

Luke huffed in fake annoyance, but still did as told, beginning to hum out a familiar tune he was constantly singing to you, despite his endless reminders that he couldn't sing. "When my time comes around," the familiar Hozier lyrics rumbled out of him softly, "lay me gently in the cold dark earth."

You met his gaze as your bodies swayed back and forth, cheeks heating as he reached your favorite lyric of the chorus. "No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her."

Your heart swelled with adoration and joy as he spun you around, lyrics being whispered into your ear like secrets, Luke's warmth breath fanning across your skin. The rain slowly came to a halt, but you continued being held in his embrace, perfectly content to stay in the light of the cloudy sky forever if you were allowed.

His lips met your forehead as he pulled you in closer, muscular arms wrapping around you in a cozy hug. "In case you needed a reminder, you're the only person I'll gladly stand in a rainstorm with."

"In case you needed a reminder, you're the only person I'd want out here with me."

So sorry this is just now getting posted! My week has been far busier than I anticipated when I first planned this event but I am working hard to get everything written so it will be posted in time for Halloween! Thank you all for being patient with me as I navigate through all this! ❤️

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @danielle143 @esposadomd @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @cwritesforfun @cynbx @lukeclvez

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artbyblastweave · 1 year

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I prompt you to elaborate on the idea of deliberately making something in a story boring, for I an always interested in your analysis.

In The Boys (Comic version, which I have complicated but more-positive-than-most feelings about) Garth Ennis very deliberately wrote most of the superhuman combat scenes as short, brutal affairs in which whoever was more powerful or better-equipped would just slaughter the other side in a matter of seconds; if the sides were more evenly matched it was then a matter of who swung first. To my memory, there were only a handful of fights blocked like fights instead of like curbstomps. This was in service to Ennis's artistic vision; violence as a swift, brutal thing, only glamourous in the sense of black-comedy dismemberments or the grim satisfaction of being alive when the other guy isn't, and with the majority of all conflicts playing out through via prep-work and intelligence-gathering done in advance of the first punch being thrown.

It was an aggressive refutation of how superhero fights go in more straightforward superhero fiction, with clever tricks, drawn-out dramatic brawls, violence as a palatable form of spectacle, something marketable after-the-fact. A lot of the fights the titular team got involved in consisted basically of jumping distracted supes; one of Homelander's jobs was to just unceremoniously decapitate any earnest upstart supervillain and then have the marketing team at Vought write a comic portraying the fight as something with genre-typical stakes. To this day, I feel like there was a level of honesty about violence in this portrayal. In real life, it's not fun!

But! It did introduce some problems. Namely, a series in which almost every single fight is something Nasty, Brutish and Short created, for me, a form of doublethink about how seriously we should even take the Vought capes as threats. A series in which every fight is deliberately uninteresting (if you aren't entertained by curbstomps) is a series in which every fight is deliberately uninteresting, and from there your enjoyment of the series rides or dies on how interesting you find the non-fight political intrigue, character dynamics, and so forth. The version of Garth Ennis who isn't writing capes is, in my opinion, pretty damn good at that other stuff, so I inched through.

The show patched the majority of my difficulties. It retained the broad thesis that cape fights would largely be curbstomps, and the other broad thesis that capes would largely be useless or counterproductive at their supposed role, but combined this with a number of actual fight scenes. It made Butchers team significantly less powerful, with a significantly greater focus on the sneaky bastardry necessary to flip assets and find weaknesses. It made killing any given supe much, much more of an endeavor, something genuinely very difficult and impressive, and it made every given supe death much more of a plot point or a character beat than it would have been in the comic. The supes being less interesting than typical for their genre, that was preserved- but the situations involving supes that we, the audience, are privy to? All very interesting still!

Now on the other side of the spectrum, you've got Worm, and you've got Jack Slash-as-an-examination-of-Joker. "Your philosophy is ill-considered and fake deep, and you aren't funny" is actually a fairly common clapback against The Joker within officially published DC comics properties, but it butts up against the fact that he's taken pretty seriously as a threat regardless of that fact! Jack Slash is an attempt to reconcile that, to figure out how someone as LOlrandom as Joker could last longer than three minutes as a serious contender, and the answer is "subtle secondary powers that puff up his win rate, in a way that his self-absorption prevents him from recognizing as anything but his own innate talent." He's blatantly shallow. Everyone talking to him is palpably rolling their eyes within the text, but he's got the brute-force necessary to undercut anyone trying to one-up him (Theo's interlude, Tattletale in the parking garage.) It's called out multiple times that's it's mysterious that he's doing so well when he's so mediocre. The candidate he picks for the 9 is a dud. He can't come up with anything more interesting for Cherish than having her do all the other tests over a second time. His big comeback is just Slaughterhouse 9! But More of them! Fuck Yeah!

But! Despite the text being aware of how shallow he is and how thin his ideas are, all of his ideas keep working. It doesn't matter that it's edgelord bullshit- it's edgelord bullshit that everyone else is forced to take seriously and respond to, which is where the actually-great character work in the S9 arc happens. And at this point I think there are basically two camps within the audience. Camp one consists of people who, despite Jacks clear shallowness, nonetheless are entertained and engrossed by the batshit combat scenarios he masterminds, even if he shouldn't be able to mastermind them. I am a counselor at Camp One. Camp Two consists of people who call bullshit on the ability for such a shallow guy to mastermind all that crap and bend everyone to his will, who don't really find anything redemptive in the eventual reveal that it was powers-enabled because they still had to sit through the implausible bullshit. This is a position I have no choice but to respect because it's the position of my cousin, who I adore and want to remain on good terms with at family gatherings. The things we do in service of family, amiright

#parahumans #worm #wildbow #the boys #garth ennis #asks #ask #meta #thoughts #the boys amazon prime #worm web serial #worm web novel #jack slash #media analysis #the boys comic #worm analysis #worm spoilers #the boys spoilers

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capybaracorn · 20 days

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US lawmakers slam ICC prosecutor’s Israel arrest warrant requests

Republican legislators threaten ‘consequences’ against International Criminal Court officials, including travel bans.

'I insist that all attempts to impede, to intimidate or to improperly influence the officials of this court cease immediately,' International Criminal Court Prosecutor Karim Khan says in announcing he is seeking arrest warrants against Israeli and Hamas leaders [File: Piroschka van de Wouw/Reuters]

(20th of May 2024)

Lawmakers in the United States have slammed the International Criminal Court’s (ICC’s) decision to seek arrest warrants for senior Israeli officials accused of war crimes in Gaza with some Republicans threatening to impose “consequences” against the international tribunal.

Joe Biden was less confrontational in his opposition to Monday’s announcement from ICC Prosecutor Karim Khan, but the US president still labelled the move “outrageous”.

Khan is seeking arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Defence Minister Yoav Gallant as well as three senior Hamas officials.

Khan accused the Israeli leaders of bearing “criminal responsibility” for war crimes and crimes against humanity in the Gaza Strip, including intentional attacks against civilians, willful killings and starvation of civilians as a weapon of war.

The response in Washington, DC – where Israel enjoys staunch support among lawmakers from both the Democratic and Republican parties – was swift.

Republican Senator Tom Cotton said Monday’s announcement shows that the ICC — which is tasked with investigating war crimes, crimes against humanity and other atrocities — is “a farce”.

“My colleagues and I look forward to make sure neither Khan, his associates nor their families will ever set foot again in the United States,” Cotton wrote on X.

Republican Congressman Anthony D’Esposito said the ICC was “playing with fire”, writing on social media that “there will be serious consequences if they proceed.”

Brian Mast, another Republican in the House of Representatives, said: “America doesn’t recognize the International Criminal Court, but the court sure as hell will recognize what happens when you target our allies.”

Neither the US nor Israel are parties to the Rome Statute, under which the ICC was established, and neither recognise the jurisdiction of the court.

Palestine, a nonmember observer state at the United Nations, formally accepted the ICC’s jurisdiction in 2015, extending the court’s authority to investigate atrocities committed in the occupied Palestinian territory.

Several Republican legislators had warned Khan in late April against seeking arrest warrants against Netanyahu or other Israeli officials after reports began to circulate that such a request was imminent.

“Such actions are illegitimate and lack legal basis, and if carried out will result in severe sanctions against you and your institution,” they wrote in a letter that was made public this month.

The letter was signed by a dozen top Republican senators, including Cotton, Mitch McConnell, Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio and Tim Scott.

“Target Israel and we will target you. If you move forward … we will move to end all American support for the ICC, sanction your employees and associates, and bar you and your families from the United States. You have been warned,” it concluded.

[See embedded video in article]

Intimidation must ‘cease immediately’, Khan says

For months, rights groups and Palestinian advocates had urged Khan and the ICC to seek arrest warrants for Israeli leaders involved in the country’s war and siege on the Gaza Strip.

Israeli attacks on the coastal enclave have killed more than 35,000 Palestinians since the war began in early October, prompting accusations that Israel was committing genocide.

Severe Israeli restrictions on water, food, medical supplies, fuel and other critical aid from entering Gaza have also created a humanitarian crisis.

During his announcement on Monday, Khan said: “Israel, like all states, has a right to defend its population,” but that does not “absolve Israel of its obligations to comply with international humanitarian law”.

He also said, “It is critical in this moment that my office and all parts of the court continue to conduct our work with full independence and impartiality.

“And I insist that all attempts to impede, to intimidate or to improperly influence the officials of this court cease immediately. My office will not hesitate to act, pursuant to provisions of Article 70 of the Rome Statute, if such conduct continues and persists.”

Article 70 makes “impeding, intimidating or corruptly influencing an official of the Court for the purpose of forcing or persuading the official not to perform, or to perform improperly, his or her duties” an offence that the court has jurisdiction over.

[See embedded video in article]

Biden administration’s position

Biden rejected what he portrayed as an attempt to compare the actions of Israel and Hamas.

“The ICC prosecutor’s application for arrest warrants against Israeli leaders is outrageous,” Biden said in a statement. “And let me be clear: whatever this prosecutor might imply, there is no equivalence – none – between Israel and Hamas. We will always stand with Israel against threats to its security.”

While Biden came into office in 2021 pledging to re-engage with international institutions after his predecessor Donald Trump’s isolationist stance, the US continues to have a fraught relationship with the ICC.

Last week, a spokesperson for the US Department of State said Washington does not believe the ICC has jurisdiction over the situation in Gaza.

“We have made clear that we do not believe the ICC has jurisdiction in this case and oppose their investigation,” Matthew Miller told reporters.

The Biden administration has provided largely unwavering diplomatic and military support to Israel during its war on Gaza, prompting widespread protests and criticism.

Some members of Biden’s own Democratic Party have joined calls for the US president to cut off aid to Israel. Others also have expressed support for the arrest warrants against Netanyahu and other Israeli leaders, stressing that international law must be applied evenly.

Nancy Okail, president of the Center for International Policy, a US-based think tank, urged the US government “to fully cooperate with – and in no way impede – the ICC process currently underway on this matter”.

“One need not agree with the prosecutor’s allegations to respect and defend the legitimacy of the court, its processes and the law which it is tasked to enforce. Any attempt to penalize or intimidate the court or its officers must be categorically condemned,” she said in a statement on Monday.

“The United States should also fulfill its own obligations and immediately cease military support enabling the violations of human rights and international law enumerated in the requested ICC warrants.”

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