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uhohdad · 1 year ago

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EXPERIMENTAL - Konig Fic Part 2

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

Part one: X

AO3 Link: X

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, abduction, bondage, blood and injury.

Word Count: 7.2k

Reader gender/sex is incomprehensible cause I do it for the girls, the gays, and the theys

NSFW under the cut

It probably didn’t mean anything, right?

How common is your name, really? He probably was just thinking about his girlfriend or wife at home who just happens to share the same name as you, the same wife he didn’t happen to mention during your introductions - even if it would have been a really good icebreaker.

Yeah, that’s it.

It couldn’t have been about you.

Could it?

Your thoughts are spiraling now, not giving yourself the room to dissect one detail before your brain throws another at you. You still haven’t moved, wide eyes watching warm light reflect on his skin as he basks in post-orgasm bliss.

He’s still for a while, and you’re wondering if the finish had tired him out enough to lull him into a nap.

After a few minutes of watching the rise and fall of his chest, you decide the show was over and closed out of the software. There was some part of you, some part you’d hoped wouldn’t ever come to light, that decided to keep his feed connected.

You’ve crossed so many lines already. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

You feel like you’ve ruined whatever chance you’ve had with him, violating his privacy like this. This was a man that wasn’t even comfortable showing his face, how did you think he was going to feel knowing a stranger has not only seen him fully naked but watched him jerk his cock to completion?

He doesn’t have to know. No one has to know. It’ll be our little secret and we’ll just pretend it never happened.

Yeah, you acted real casual today when you hadn’t done a horrible, awful, perverted thing. I’m sure you’ll act real casual the next time you have to look him in the eyes.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

You rest your head on your keyboard not-so-gently, accidentally booting up an ancient mail software that was sure to kick your laptop’s fans into overdrive. An audible groan leaves your mouth.

Who knew non-consensual voyeurism would leave such a horrific feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach?

That and the arousal that sits right underneath. Your underwear now had a wet stain from watching the show, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you had.

There was no way you were going to be able to focus on work now. You had been planning on staying late, but there’s no way you can analyze today’s data. Review his feed. Replay your conversations. Hear his breathing…

No, you just can’t do it right now. It’s too much.

You do a quick round of the lab, performing a sloppy iteration of your closing procedures, pack up your things, and head out for the day.

Before you do, you decide you might as well round out the horrific deed by doing one last terrible thing.

You pair your personal cell phone to the software and send yourself the erotic recording of Konig.

You’ll start fresh tomorrow, you decide.

————————————————————-

You most certainly did not start fresh tomorrow.

The next few days are a vicious cycle.

Go to work. Review Konig’s simulation footage. Fantasize. Feel guilty. Review raw data. Think about Konig touching himself. Feel aroused. Feel guilty. Rewrite codes. Go home. Watch erotic recording. Feel aroused. Get off.

Feel guilty.

You can’t help it. You’re out of control, an addict desperate to get their fix, ashamed of their actions but lacking the willpower to quit.

How are you supposed to stop thinking about him when all day at work you’re watching him fight his way through the shoot house, strong hands gripping his gun, and hearing to that laugh?

How can you go home and ignore the recording of him finishing while moaning your name?

You must have replayed it a thousand times. He moaned it like he was begging you, pleading with you. Such a powerful man choking on your name. Even after a full week had passed, it still had the power to excite you in ways you haven’t felt in ages.

Your next meeting with Konig was scheduled for today and if you had to judge solely by the feeling in your gut, you would’ve guessed you had eaten rocks for breakfast. Your brain tells you to flee and fast but your body is promised to these four walls. Your leg bounces as you pick at the fingers that beg for something to do besides type code.

You wanted to call it off. Tell Konig you weren’t feeling well and you’d try again next week. Or maybe hit the bricks entirely. Just walk out of the building and never look back. Forget about everything.

You’re reconsidering your career choices as a steady knock on the lab’s swinging door rips you from your thoughts.

Your wince before you look up, quickly plastering what you hope is a convincing smile on your face.

He catches your eyes through the glass and you notice them crinkle, unable to place an emotion to it. You’d been dreading this moment all week. Even going so far as to avoid looking at his live feed after the incident, just in case you weren’t able to feign the natural responses of hearing his recounts for the ‘first’ time. That in addition to the intrapersonal understanding that you couldn’t handle carrying anymore guilt-rocks in your stomach.

Looking him in the eyes was as hard as you imagined it to be. He pushes open the door and steps in, standing hesitantly near the entrance like he did last week. You notice he has a notepad in one hand, and it looks so comically small compared to his size. Like a giant holding a sticky note. In the other he holds your earpiece in an open palm, as if hesitant to wrap his fingers around it.

It doesn’t help that the first word that left his mouth as he entered the lab was your name. Flashbacks to his sweaty body, shuddering in pleasure as he came all over his rippling muscles grab your attention.

He had followed it up with something, but you had been too distracted to catch it. You close your eyes, touching your hand to your forehead.

You were not doing a very good job hiding your fluster.

“I’m so sorry- what’d you say?” You give a small laugh, partly to ease the tension in your chest and partly at the situation itself. It’s not funny, you know that. It’s terrible. So terribly ridiculous that you can’t help but laugh at yourself for getting yourself into this mess. Your hand follows through the rest of your hair in an effort to soothe yourself before falling back down at your side.

“Good to see you.” He repeats, tilting his head, taking just a few careful steps closer to you. His eyes dart to the side briefly before returning to you, “Is everything okay?”

You give another weak laugh, “Yeah, sorry. Just still in the zone.” You gesture vaguely at scattered papers and devices on the table. You don’t give him a chance to pry further, “How was it?”

He takes a moment to eye you carefully, and you are sure he’s about to call your bluff before he responds, “Remarkable.”

You swallow, breaking eye contact with him again. It’s always been hard for you to accept a compliment. You're hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your cheeks, but you know you have absolutely no right to such a request after what you’ve done.

He clears his throat before he continues, “I promised you I would have feedback. It wasn’t easy.” He holds his notepad up briefly as he steps up to the table to carefully set it down along with your earpiece. You can see from across the table he’s got a few scribbled sentences spaced out on the notepad. You take note of his sloppy handwriting from across the table, before realizing he didn’t write in English.

He looks down at his notes and you’re thankful you have something to stare at that’s not Konig’s eyes or intimidating frame. You’re trying hard not to think about the body filling out his gear. You’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him naked that it’s almost strange to see him with his uniform on.

You can tell he takes a deep breath before continuing and you wonder briefly if he’s nervous about sharing his feedback, worried he will hurt your feelings. “You mentioned before that it scans objects?” The end of his sentence lifts, almost like he’s asking you a question, “I think it would be good to make sure that the user is always made aware of landmines. I’m positive it will save lives.”

“Yes, absolutely. That’s a great idea.” You nod as you jot his ideas down on your laptop, a reminder to update your code.

You’re happy to be talking shop. Even happier to be talking about defensive designs instead of offensive ones.

The way he rubs his bicep with his opposing hand triggers a realization. You finally look at his eyes, his still staring down at his notes, and watch him for a moment.

The idea didn’t come from thin air.

You wonder what he saw, what traumatic memories are being replayed behind the downcast eyes to inspire such an idea.

You feel an ache in your chest for him, the desire to alienate his discomfort but unequipped to do so. Instead you look at him, your eyes swollen with sympathy and the corner of your mouth pinched in a frown.

He takes a moment before looking back up at you. He notices your warped expression but misinterprets it, “Am I overstepping?”

Your voice is low and you press a hand to your heart, “No, Konig, not at all. This is very helpful.” You’re not sure what else to say to him. What do you say to a man haunted by the violence he’s witnessed?

The only thing you can do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.

You’re not working for the government anymore, you decided. You’re going to work for Konig. To tailor your device with the purpose to save and protect him.

So you stick to the topic at hand. “Any other ideas?” You ask, voice still soft with empathy as you glance down at the notes written in German.

“Uh,” He clears his throat again and touches the back of his neck over his hood, the fabric pulling a bit on the front, “Sometimes when we’re in the heat of things, I can’t always get to my remote.” He gestured to the band on his wrist. “Do you think it would be possible to have voice command?”

Your brain’s mulling over the possibility. You’re surprised you haven’t thought of it yet. You could eliminate the remote entirely, you’re sure your supervisor will be elated with the big savings on material costs. The earpiece already has a microphone for the comm, it wouldn’t be hard for you to configure it to an additional feature.

“Absolutely, voice control. That’s clever.” Your brain is already running with alternatives to the wrist remote as you type his ideas, “Do you go on a lot of missions that require stealth?” It’s easier to make eye contact with him when you’re discussing work. He nods, and you continue, “In addition to voice command, I could also add hand controls, able to identify and respond to the signal you give it - totally silent.” You tap your fingers on the table twice, “The only draw I can think of is having to memorize control signals.”

He thinks it over for a moment and shifts in his spot, “That’s even better.”

“I think it’ll be best to have both.” Your keyboard clicks under your fingers as you enter the ideas coming to you faster than you can get them down.

This is great. I’m not even thinking about-

Stop it.

“These are great, Konig, really. Anything else?”

Your encouragement makes him look away. You follow his stare as it darts to the side and then down to his notes. He places one hand on the table next to the notepad as he leans his weight onto it.

You briefly picture yourself between him and the table, his arm pinning you in as he towers over you, hunched to watch you like you’re his prey, chests so close they’re almost touching.

You quickly push the thought to the side, moving your attention back to your laptop. The only way to survive this meeting is to repress.

Repress your memories of what he looks like with his cock in his hand, arching his hips into the thrusts. Repress the sound of his moans and your name echoing clearly in your brain. Repress the guilt from the breach of privacy to the highest degree.

Please, just until we get through this.

You close your eyes and take a breath to collect yourself while he’s not looking.

He’s got other things written on the notepad, you’re sure. Unless the two ideas he’d already pitched managed to take up the whole page. “No.”

Your brows furrow, the question leaving your mouth without thought, “You’re sure?”

He pauses. You can tell he’s sitting on a thought, but you don’t know what.

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s just a prototype. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

He straightens his posture before he speaks, “No. That was all I could think of.” He swallows, “If you feel I didn’t make good on my promise, I can fix it.”

“No, no!” You say with urgency, a hand shaking in his direction, “Those ideas you gave me were perfect. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t holding back on me.” A weak laugh escapes you. “I can’t stress how helpful this has been. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Konig looks at you, those intimidating eyes staring at you from across the table. You wish you could see his face, hoping it would give some insight on what was going through his head. Even if you could you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact.

He knows.

No, he doesn’t, shut up.

“I’ll keep thinking.” He says definitively, like he’s trying to right a wrong.

“You’ve only had it for a week,” you reassure, “Besides, you’ve given me plenty to work with.” You force a smile at him, not even caring how it’s coming off because you’re just hoping not to choke on the tension suffocating the room. You wonder if he feels it too, or if it’s all in your head.

He nods, and you look to your laptop in a futile attempt to thwart the dread suddenly pooling in your stomach. You’re reminded of what you’ve done when he crosses his arms, and your eyes are drawn to the same bicep on the arm that he used to pleasure himself. You’re picturing how it looks under his uniform, comparing it to your filthy reference. Your heart quickens and you can’t help but take in his build, even from across the long lab table. You feel extra small sitting on your stool while he stands, arms still crossed, staring.

The air between you two is definitely weird. Him getting off to probably-not-you and you watching but him not knowing that you know will certainly fill the room with a tension unlike any other.

These drawn-out silences are smothering you, not knowing what goes on being his hood.

He looks disappointed in you.

He knows.

“How can I help you in the meantime?”

You can’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. You were planning on taking him back out to shoot house, running a few more simulations, and having him give feedback on a few more overlays.

You scrap that plan, looking forward to expanding on his ideas while your synapses are still firing.

“Well, here’s my thoughts so far. Landmine identification, the coding for that will be easy. The device already has the scanning capability for obscured objects. All I have to do is enable the specific object for full-time recognition. The hard part will be testing. I’ll have to meet with weapons development to develop prop landmines for simulation.”

You glance at the notes on your laptop, “Voice control - easy. Mic’s already installed and all I would have to do is add speech-to-text recognition, repurpose the wrist control coding, and then…testing.” Your hand finds the side of your face as you think it over, “Well, I may need to sample voice lines from you and a couple of your friends…” You loosely gesture with the same hand as you continue, “But there may be workarounds to that. Put a pin in that.” You’re on a roll now, “Now the hand controls - that might be more complicated. I’m thinking I’ll have to start fresh with the hardware.” You look up, “Then again… it already has the scanning capacity. I could probably just teach the current model with software alone. But the coding will take some time to figure out.”

Your eyes find him again. He’s staring and as per usual you can’t decipher it.

“Y’know,” you continue with a smile, “You could help me come up with hand signals?”

He nods.

He doesn’t give you much to work with, does he?

“I’ll need references of your hands. To teach the AI, is that okay?”

He looks down in a way that makes you feel so, so ashamed. If he is hesitant about recordings of just his gloved hands, how would he feel if he found out about what you did? About the video living on your phone?

After a moment he looks back up at you, “I’ll do it.” His voice is stern as usual, always treating everything with importance, with determination.

You give him another shaky smile, “Might be awhile. Wanna sit?”

He pulls up a stool to his end of the table and you instruct him to put his earpiece on as you return to your software on the laptop, trying not to trigger the memory of the last time you watched his feed. You pretend to resync your devices, glad he can’t see your screen. A wave of shame washes over you.

You’re both collaborating for some time, you offering a prompt and him stiffly coming up with a corresponding hand command. You supervise his feed, having him tilt his hands so the AI has references from multiple angles.

The rest of the meeting is professional and you manage to steady your obsessive thoughts as best you can. It’s hard to observe his hands and not think about the video, about what you watched those same hands do.

About how those hands would feel mapping all of the curves of your body.

How they would feel gripping onto your hips as you rode him.

How they would feel sneaking up your thighs, teasing you.

Somehow, you make it.

Once you decide you’ve covered enough references, Konig heads out, and you hope to continue staving off your thoughts by wasting no time on incorporating his ideas into your design. You’re hoping to have a least one rough draft done before next week’s meeting, so you plan on hunkering down and forfeit your Friday night to work overtime.

—————————————————————-

It’s late in the evening, you can tell by how your eyes are burning, strained from staring at your bright screen. You don’t bother to check the actual time. It would just bum you out. Spending your Friday night working. Not that you would have been doing anything partially exciting if you hadn’t. You probably would have just spent your evening analyzing footage anyway, just of a more perverted genre.

When you finally call it quits, the base is barren. Everyone’s gone home or retired to their quarters by now. It’s quiet after the base door shuts behind you, automatic locks clicking into place.

You’re feeling better after today’s meeting with Konig. Somewhere in the previous week you’d convinced yourself that he knew, that at any moment he was going to report you, and at any moment security would bust in the lab to escort you out.

Seeing him again, even though you couldn’t always figure out what he was thinking, reassured you that he hadn’t somehow telepathically figured out your terrible deed. You don’t think he would have bothered to keep helping you, or even be able to look at you without disgust if he did know.

The meeting also re-sparked your feelings of arousal and excitement. The knot in your lower abdomen made its presence known again. So much more desirable than the spiraling guilt. You’ve come to lean into the highs, enjoying it while you can, knowing soon you’ll be feeling nauseous at the thought of yourself.

You don’t know how much longer you can take the rollercoaster. This week has been exhausting. You can’t believe you’ve allowed this man to root himself into your life, seeping into every facet.

Career, personal, sexual, and - well, you’re still in denial about the romantic feelings - but it’s incredibly impressive how this man was capable of fucking your entire life up for the small price of a couple of hours and a few exchanged words.

When you finally get to the privacy of your home, you let out an audible groan. Loud enough to carry but quiet enough to not disturb the neighbors. You just needed to let something out, it was getting frustrating.

You didn’t want to think anymore, you didn’t want to think!

“Long day at work?”

You freeze, and the sound of heavy footsteps fill your ears. Two armed soldiers with fully equipped gear stride from the depth of your home, meeting you at the entrance.

The sight of them alone is enough to intimidate you. You instinctively back against the locked door, your trunk obscuring a hand moving towards the doorknob.

“Tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”The taller of the two soldiers wears a black balaclava with a skull stitched in, his unimpressed stare drilling into you. You hear a click, and your wide eyes lock on to the gun in his hands, pointing right at your core.

You slowly release the doorknob, raising your shaking hands so they could see your palms.

“That’s good babe,” The other soldier speaks, but you’re too busy staring down the barrel of the gun to worry about it.

“I have to admit I’m a little upset with you,” Skull-face, as you appropriately nicknamed him, speaks as his eyes bore into you, “You kept us waiting a long time.”

He’s got some sort of thick accent laced into his grave voice, they both do, actually, but you’re too busy trying not to piss your pants to be able to place the region of origin.

A lump forms in your throat and you don’t think you‘ve taken a breath since you heard the unfamiliar voice in your home.

It’s violating. Them being here. Where you go after a long day of work to relax. Where you eat, sleep, shower, and just be.

How dare they defile and taint your safe place, where you hide away and pretend the exhausting world around you doesn’t exist?

You’re stuck, unsure of your next move and paralyzed with fear.

“We think you have something we want.”

You’re not sure what they mean, but you nod in compliance anyway. Not much you can say no to against two heavily armed men. You finally break your gaze away from the gun and take turns making frightful eye contact with them. You speak after a failed attempt of swallowing your fear, voice soft and broken, “Take it.”

They exchange a knowing glance with each other, the man with his face exposed bears an irritatingly smug grin.

Skull-face approaches you threateningly, sending fear down your spine and making your skin crawl as you push yourself further into the door. He leaves no room for pleas as he flips his gun around, the stock coming down on your forehead with enough force to knock you out cold.

————————————————————-

Your splitting headache was the first thing you registered when you came to. You can’t seem to concentrate, the fog in your brain so extreme your thoughts are incoherent. You let out a meek whimper as you attempt to open your eyes, the lights in the room stunning you and intensifying the throbbing pain in your skull. You wince, closing your eyes again to block it out.

A few moments pass - and the next thing you notice is the dryness in your mouth, unable to manage a swallow from the dehydration.

Water.

The only intelligible thought you’ve had after registering your discomfort, the instinctual desire stronger than the dizzy haze clouding your brain.

You lift your head, trying to move but your weakened muscles fail you.

Your muscles are weak, yes, but what’s really keeping you in place are the restraints.

You wince again, eyes scrunched to block out the brutal light as you tug to confirm you’re secured. Your wrists were bound behind you, your shoulders overextending around the back of the chair you were planted on. Your ankles bound to either leg of the chair. There’s another restraint wrapping under your arms and around the back of the chair, keeping your upper half upright. There’s a rashy burn underneath the coarse ropes that dug into your skin as your unconscious body leaned into it.

You let out another whimper from the back of your coarse throat. While you weren’t alert, every instinct within you notified you of the danger you were in.

Gotta move.

You try to squint one eye, but it still doesn’t save you from the flash intensity of your headache. Your eyes are stinging on top of it and you realize you’re partially blinded, vision blurred and doubled, stained red with your own blood.

You grit your teach, determined to figure out where you are. You try to concentrate your vision but to no avail.

Even so, you can tell you’re not at home, and you’re not on base.

Once you make your discovery, one that expended what little willpower you had, your eyes clench back shut, desperate to alleviate the migraine.

A secondary location, you thought to yourself through the pain, I’m fucked.

You can’t hear anything, the ringing in your ears deafening you.

You let out one more defeated whine before resting your chin on your chest, pinching your eyes closed.

You have no idea how long you drift in and out of consciousness for. During the brief moments you come to, you’re so disoriented you can’t make sense of your thoughts, and that coupled with the debilitating pain in your head is unnerving enough to make you cry tears of pure confusion.

It’s your neck snapping back to follow the hair yanking on your scalp that jolts you awake, and try to open your eyes to find the threat but they’re still not working as they should. Underneath the debilitating ringing, you can hear the sound of muffled male voices, unable to make out what they’re saying.

You gave up.

You were wounded & trapped, and in nature that meant a death sentence. You were in no shape to properly defend yourself. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

You were as done as the toast made from your own designs.

After wincing, your eyes screwed shut, you go limp and give in to the man physically controlling you like a sadistic puppeteer.

The muffled voices are louder, you still can’t make out their words but you can tell they’re having some sort of argument. They’re yelling at each other, and your scalp becomes collateral as the one tightens his grip on your hair to match his escalated volume

He’s right in your ear now and it’s not helping with the headache.

Just hurry it up, You manage through the haze, just hurry it up and put me out of my misery.

He throws your head forward to the position it was in before, slumped over as much as the ropes would allow with your chin pointed to the ground. The force rattles your skull in a way that makes you see a searing white behind your eyelids. What little water you had left in you was escaping through your swollen eyes lids and down tear-stained cheeks.

Just kill me, please.

——————————————————-

When you come to again, you’re no longer sitting. You’re flat on your back. Your neck secured so your head is in line with your spine. Your headache takes the front stage but the pain has noticeably subsided. You try to open your eyes again, but the lights above you are still excruciating.

You let out a low moan and shut your eyes again.

Your ears still ring, but a good portion of your hearing has returned to you. You hear your name, followed by, “are you awake?”

You grunt in response, unable to form sentences.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

You wince, trying to shake your head but unable. Instead, you grunt again before parting your lips. You tried to say, “Lights,” but your voice is so hoarse it comes out broken and cracked.

“What is it?”

You try and clear your throat, putting all your power into your strained voice, “Lights.”

They understand, and while you still can’t hear the flick of the switch, you can tell from behind your eyelids they’ve been shut off.

You try to mutter a “Thank you,” but give up a quarter of the way through.

You slowly open your eyes, still burning but blood wiped away from them. Your vision is still blurry, but no longer doubled.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You try to shake your head, but can’t. So you force a weak, “No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Do you know what today’s date is?”

You just grunt, closing your eyes again. You didn’t know the answer but you were too fed up with the questions to respond.

“Can you see?”

You grunt again.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? Can you wiggle your fingers for me?”

You try to lift your arm in the direction of the voice but your action is cut short, your arm jerked still by a restraint on your wrist. You open and close your fingers slowly at the maximum range the restraint will allow.

“How ‘bout your toes?”

Your toes move slightly, your calves aching at even such a mild movement.

“Good, thank you. How’s the hearing?”

Kill me or leave me alone, you think.

You eventually freeze the owner of voice out, finally leaving you alone to rest.

The next few days are a miserable, confusing blur. Somewhere along the way you’re informed you’re in medical, being treated for your extreme concussion. No skull fracture, thankfully, but they suspect the bruising is severe if it was enough to knock you unconscious.

The concussion had scrambled you good, and you were not nearly as sharp as you usually are.

It took you a whole five days, not that you could keep track of the passing time, before you realized that you were not at medical on your base.

You were in medical, restrained to a hospital bed-

in enemy care.

————————————————————

There was nothing you could do. Restrained to your bed, sedated with painkillers when they thought you were becoming too active.

“To help you rest.” They told you, but you couldn't trust a word that came out of their mouths.

Medics are supposed to be neutral, bound to an ethical code to heal the injured, enemy or not. That didn’t stop some medics from harboring grudges after years of patching up their own soldier’s brutal wounds of war.

The next time the medicine wears off for a long amount of time, with no medics in sight, you conveniently get visitors, the soldiers that had visited you in your home.

The events had been beaten out of you, but the traumatic event had seeped somewhere deeper into your psyche, and you knew deep down you were in trouble at the mere sight of them.

Skull-face especially, you don’t know how or why, but your intuition tells you he’s responsible for this. “Ready to answer some questions? Or do you need me to put you back to sleep?”

You can tell by the sharp edge in his voice he doesn’t mean the painkillers.

“Maybe I’d be able to answer your questions if you hadn’t given me brain damage.” Your patience is running thin, and an ember ignites a flame inside you, “Who knows what information you knocked out of me.” You stare directly into his eyes, brows furrowed, the tone of your voice inviting trouble in.

He already took everything away from you. At this point you don’t care if he puts you under. You’re begging him too. Every time you wake up you just want to go back to sleep. You don’t want to deal with it, any of it.

Skull-face makes a move to advance but the maskless soldier stops him by putting an arm out, laying it firmly across his to hold him back.

You don’t flinch, eyes now staring down the soldier with a stubbled jaw and a mohawk that ended in a widow's peak. It’s a haircut you find highly unusual for a soldier.

Your face doesn’t crack, but you squint at the pair, “What do you even want to know? I don’t even work on the field, I have no information.”

Skull-face looks down at you, “Oh, we know.” That stupid accent and that stupid mask. If you weren’t restrained you think you would have launched at him, risking it all to get a few good scratches in with your fingernails. He reaches into his pocket and your eyes widen and your brows retract at what he pulls out.

Not a weapon, no.

It’s your design, the AI-powered earpiece, and your wrist remote.

Skull-face notices the realization that sets across your face, “Awh, looks like your memory is working fine after all.”

The flame inside you laps at your skin, your features flushing with anger. A lot at Skull-face, for being such a cocky prick, but mostly at yourself.

You did this yourself. You figured your day of reckoning would come eventually. That karma would bite you in the ass, and those who are affected by your designs will stand by and laugh at your demise.

You should have just stuck with redesigning kitchen appliances.

“Why don’t you show us what you’ve been cooking up, huh? We know you’ve been busy.”

The pair share another knowing glance, Mohawk snickering at your expense.

“How did you get that?” You ask through gritted teeth, knowing there’s no way they could have gotten into the highly secured base.

“What is it?” Skull-face asks.

“It’s an intercom.” You grit, the ache in your head pulsing. You miss the painkillers.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Mohawk steps in, “It’s okay, we all get embarrassed about our porn.”

You furrow your brows at him.

What the hell was he talking about?

Skull-face elbows him in the side, but it doesn’t keep his partner from smiling, “What is it?” He asks again.

“It’s an intercom.”

He’s getting sick of this game and he goes to step to you again but Mohawk cuts him short. “Ghost!” He says firmly.

Ghost, that was Skull-faces name. Or call sign, at least. You hated him, but you’d wished the other soldier would just let him at you. You didn’t care anymore.

Mohawk looks at you, “Look, there’s only so much I can do,” gesturing to Ghost, “Can’t we all just get along for a little bit, yeah?”

“How about you get along with deez nuts.” You laugh at your dumb joke, a laugh influenced by the daze of concussion and painkillers. You’re in hysteria, the laugh spills out and doesn’t let up. A release of built-up stress and frustration and anger that seeped out uncontrollably. Cackling at yourself for ending up in this situation. Only you would be capable of such hijinks. The laugh leaves you out of breath and with eyes full of tears. You don’t even care how it exacerbates the headache, or how you’re coming off as insane. It feels too good to let out the pent-up emotions, one way or another.

Your elation is cut short with a squeak as a gloved hand cuts harshly into your trachea. Ghost squeezes, roughly lifting you by the neck before shoving you back down on the hospital bed, his grip tighter than before. His voice is low and filled with caution, “I am getting sick of you.”

If you could breathe enough to talk, you’d tell him the feeling’s mutual. Instead you gag and sputter, which he takes as a sign that you are still getting air, and forces more of his weight onto your neck.

Your hands fail to defend yourself, the restraints holding you from fighting back. You’re getting close to blacking out, your laugh having already knock most of the wind out of you, but Mohawk pulls Ghost off of you, his hands firm on Ghost’s shoulders, “Stop! Stop.”

You involuntarily gasp, desperate for air, trying not to choke on your own spit. For a moment all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, flowing desperately to replace what Ghost restricted.

“Come on, last try.” He warns, and you can tell in your voice he means it.

You eye him carefully, still heaving for air. When you collect yourself, you speak, “I’ll show you.” You say, voice weak and breathy. You try to hold out your hand, but get stopped by the restraints.

Mohawk glances at Ghost, but Ghost keeps his stern eyes trained on you. He stays still for a moment, studying you with his arms crossed.

You roll your eyes, your chest still huffing as you reclaim your air, “Don’t trust me? Fine. I’ll walk you through it. Put the fucking bracelet on.”

He stares for another moment before taking the device from Mohawk. Must of handed it off so he could strangle you better.

He puts it on his wrist.

“Now tap the top.”

He follows your instructions, the wrist remote’s projection displaying above his wrist.

“Go ahead and open your settings.” You guide him through it, activating a few select overlays. “You got it. Now put the earpiece on.”

Ghost hesitates, looking over to his companion before he slowly reaches up underneath his balaclava, attaching the earpiece.

“Yep, and while you’re in there, go ahead and hit the button on the base.”

You watch as your design activates, displaying the transparent overlay over his eyes. He’s taken aback, unnerved by the unidentified design being so close to his vulnerable eyes.

“Ta-da!” You say sarcastically, showing off the full range of the restraints as you offer weak jazz hands. “So I’ve given you some information. Maybe you can give me a little information, yeah?”

He doesn’t say anything as he removes his hand from his mask.

“Where am I?” You ask.

“You know where you are.”

“How’d you find me?”

“We tracked your cell phone.”

You squint, “Why were you tracking my phone?” It doesn’t make any sense, there’s no way they would have been able to pin your cell phone information back to base. You don’t use it for work and there’s no way you had connected to the private Wi-Fi. It’s apples and oranges, you think.

Mohawk steps in front of Ghost and holds out his phone in your direction. It takes a moment for the image to come into view, your vision still impaired. When your eyes adjust, the screen shows you something that makes your blood turn cold.

It’s the video of Konig jerking off.

“Okay! Okay.” You wave your hands, “Just put that away, I get it.”

When you connected your phone to your software to transfer the recording of Konig, it briefly connected to your laptop.

Base internet has state-of-the-art firewalls and encryptions to prevent surveillance, hack-in, key logs.

Cell phones do not.

So they’ve been tracking you all week, and who knows what kind of information they were able to pull from your software? From your laptop, containing dozens of government secrets?

No, you think, they wouldn’t be going through the trouble of keeping me alive if they had the information on my laptop.

“What’s the matter? Embarrassed that gettin’ your rocks off caused a security breach in confidential information regarding warfare development?” Mohawk mocks.

Well, yes you were, now that he mentions it. You’re actually very worried your perverted little stunt will somehow end up forever immortalized in history books.

In the moment, though, your main concern was making sure that Konig wouldn’t find out, as you had started transmitting the device’s feed to him as soon as Ghost turned the earpiece on.

Part Three

#könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #call of duty #fic #smut #konig fic #modern warefare ii #konig #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #experimental #x reader #uhohwriting

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lil-bitty-lubdubs · 5 months ago

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The Basement Series-Septima Pt.1

Part 1

She awoke slowly, the world coming into her consciousness at snail speeds. Her brain felt heavy as if cotton was stuffed into its membranes. Her vision foggy though every light about her shimmered too bright for her to directly look at. Her strength was sapped, too weak to even raise her head up off the floor…

Table. It’s a table… or bed, she told herself. She was too far up for it to be the floor. Where is this? It was a dark room. Windowless. High celling. A basement. She tried to remember. Glove. A black glove covering her mouth. She remembered as fractured pieces of her past her coming into her consciousness. Rag. The glove was holding a soaked cloth. The stench- awful. Then darkness took her.

oh shit! She tried to panic but her heart was slow. Abnormally slow though steady. She turned her head to look around. There was bright earth blinding lights above her but the rest of the room was in shadow. It was a dark, dank place with no windows, no soul. It was the kind of place Bundonians would go to pay homage.

“Oh God…” she crooned softly to herself, but someone heard.

“Ah! You’re awake darling.” A man’s voice startled her though her heart only elevated slightly.

It was as if her heart was carrying a wide load behind it reacting too little too late, but the longer she was awake the more the weight was lifting. “Good. I’m glad to see those eyes.” His shadow appeared approaching from the left. That’s when she noticed it. The heart monitor just next to her bedside. She peered at the lines moving and shifting on its screen. She was confused a moment. Then she saw the wires attached to it. She traced them with her eyes from the machine straight to their source. Her chest. She realized she was unclothed save a thin white sheet covering her nudity. Her awakening heart picked up its beat, fear setting in. “What the hell…?”

“I see you’re beginning to understand the fun we’re going to have together.” The man’s voice was cheerful, calm, and slick as a snake’s skin. He was out of the shadows now. He was not very tall though a bit heavyset, but muscular probably around 35. Brunet. He wore a white lab coat like a doctor would on a bad TV show. He took her wrist gently, pressing in to feel her pulse.

“What?” She asked. “What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about? “Who are you?” she spoke each phrase louder than the next until she was yelling. “You’re crazy. You’re insane! Let me go!” she whimpered trying to get her other hand out from under the sheet.

“Oh but you will see …uh…”he looked at a plastic ID card…”Septima is it darling? I’m Cal. Dr. Cal if you will. We’re about to embark on a journey, you and I, and have so much fun along the way. He reached down under the sheet and slid a hand between her legs as she wiggled. “Mmm. Wet.” His eyes glistened lust.

“Nooo!” she let out a scream. “Don’t you touch me!!” she yelled as loud as she could. He remained unphased. Taking his hand out as he yanked off the sheet uncovering her completely.

“No!” She screamed again, feeling exposed and vulnerable. This is not going to end well.

“Now, now, its alright.” He murmured and patted her hand locking his whole palm over her wrist while pulling her arm well above her head, holding it down.

“Let me go!” She railed. “Stop. Let me GO!” she thrashed weakly.

The doctor used his free hand to turn a nozzle and a sizzle was birthed into the air. An oxygen mask descended towards her face.

Septima willed her heart into overdrive and flailed one handed even harder. She tried bringing her legs up to kick him but found they were already strapped to the table. She held her breath as he fixed the mask over her head and attached it with the elastic straps holding it in place with his hand as she tried to claw at it. In the pool she had a 4 minute breath hold. She could probably hold out for 2-3 now with all the energy she was exerting.

Clearly the doctor was surprised how long she could hold it and began to feel impatient. Perhaps even angry. Good.

“No. No. No darling Breathe. You need to breathe in Septima.” he urged. She refused.

He turned and grabbed a toilet plunger looking thing with his free hand as he locked her other arm together with the one above her head. He settled the contraption right in the middle of her abdomen, just underneath the ribs. “Breathe in. Breathe in. BREATHE!” He willed her, but she stubbornly held out.

By now her heart was thudding in her chest right up against her sternum. She could feel the urge to breathe rise up, but it didn’t overwhelm her. Yet. He held out a moment longer giving her a chance to comply before thrusting his weight behind the plunger. It riveted a shock wave of air from deep within her chest all the way up her esophagus. It resulted in what sounded like a grunt as air left her lungs. A significant amount of air, but she refused to take a breath. He thrust again. More air leaked out of her. “Come now darling.” he said through gritted teeth. Yep. He’s angry. That strengthened her resolve. Maybe he’d run out of gas soon. He thrust 3 more times in quick succession though these weren’t as forceful as the first 2. But now, her lungs were empty. The burning in her chest grew every second. Spots danced before her eyes.

She needed to breathe. She had to. AIR. It was all that mattered. She gave up the fight and inhaled. A pure deep, clean lungful of cold oxygen tainted with sweet tasting gas. Relief flooded her chest, her eyes rolled back. She took another shallow breath. Her head already spinning. But she was still intent on resisting further. Clearly he knew what she was thinking because he leaned into the plunger contraption again. The breath left her inflated lungs. Too soon! she screamed inside. She breathed in deeply again mouth open, desperate for air, her resolve failing.

One more time he thrust. By now she was barely conscious though still aware, lungs automatically filling in half bursts. Her body just stopped responding. Her precious heart slowed its rate again. Abnormally slow. It was calm and steady no matter how much she wanted it to kick into gear.

What the hell did he give me? she wondered. “Wrraanmrg…” was all that escaped her mouth.

“Yes. That’s it darling. That’s it. Give In to it! That a girl. Gooood. That’s right. Take a deep breathe. Just give in. Good girl! Yes darling, that’s it! Breathe! Just breathe in.” he crooned into her ear, one hand sliding right between her breasts to feel the surge of her chest rise and fall. She was no longer in control and she was losing consciousness. She yielded herself to him, no longer caring as his two fingers nestled in to feel her carotid pulse.

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ohtobeleah · 2 months ago

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Day 12 [Blood Runs Thicker Than Water]

Summary: Charles and Logan, already in a Days of Future Past quests, take a detour when Charles feels another mutant in the Pentagon.

Warnings: Mutant abilities. Charles Xavier x F!reader. Neglect. Sensory Deprivation. Body manipulation, mentions of blood.

Word Count: 3.0k

Whumptober Prompt Day Twelve: Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It's a tragedy really, when a mature mind and a romantic heart are trapped within the same body. You can understand that happiness is not an ideal of reason, but one of imagination. Being exposed to such hostile, tortious environments makes the heart grow with envy. Longing for understanding. Compassion.

It makes the mind question intention. Isolation. Deprivation. Two things that do wild things to a mind once full of empathy. It alters your brain chemistry. Changes your perception of reality. When people are fueled with the terror of becoming prey, you see how quickly they become a predator.

Built-in 1943, the Pentagon is one of the world's largest office buildings, housing more than twenty-five thousand military employees on any given day of the week. Those employees are stretched over six million square feet. Six million square feet built to house the world’s most dangerous, most violent offenders. No prison, no detention centre, no off-shore bunker was good enough to keep society safe from you.

“There's someone else down there,” Charles frowned as he slid his back slowly down the wall until he landed on the floor. His mind was racing, neurons were firing on all cylinders– something that had been suppressed for years. He could feel an agony beyond comprehension. A pain so overwhelming that it broke through the suppression and forced his mind into overdrive. Charles Xavier could feel again. “There’s another person here, we need to find them!”

“I don’t think we have time for that,” Logan frowned as he looked around, keeping an eye on the halls as they made their way deeper into the facility. Deeper below the surface of the Pentagon, one of the world's most heavily guarded buildings. It was already a shock that the two of them had managed to get this far in. “Have you got a lock on them?”

“I can feel them, but I can’t see them,” Charles explained as he picked himself up off the ground. Your emotional turmoil had knocked the wind right out of him. “But they’re here, I know it, they need us.”

The room they held you in was something designed right out of a horror movie. A padded room, completely isolated from everyone and anything the world had to offer. Blindfolded, chained, muzzled. You were completely stripped of all your senses. They’d taken your very identity, only referring to you as prisoner 0002. Whoever came before you, prisoner 0001, must have been held here too.

But how could you blame society for turning their backs on you? How could you blame them for the things you’d been subjected to? How could you not understand how this was where you needed to be, that this was the only way to keep humanity safe from your power?

Pretty easily actually. You had never once used your power for anything. You had the ability, the ease of manipulation. You had the gift, the talent, the strength. But you’d never once used your power on another human being.

That didn’t matter though, not to your fiance at least. When he’d found out what you had the ability to do, he turned you into the government without a single moment of hesitation. He’d betrayed you on a nearly incomprehensible scale. He’d left you to rot in a prison cell you didn’t deserve to be in.

You should have used your power on him, on everyone the second you caught onto what was happening. But the sedative they gave you had already taken effect before you could react. Before you could take control.

You were the only known blood-bender in existence. A force of nature so powerful that the only way to make sure you didn’t cause unimaginable loss, was to lock you away, deep underground, in a maximum security building and throw away the key.

“She,” Charles gasped as he and Logan made their way deeper underground. “She’s here somewhere,” It was the grief of a former life that Charles could feel. He had a headache so chronic that he thought for a moment his brain may expand to a size his skull couldn’t handle. “Let me try something,” He asked as the two stopped in their tracks. Logan wasn’t too happy about the detour as it was. He was on borrowed time already. A side quest wasn’t really on the cards when so much was already at risk.

But as it happened, the Days of Future Past would have to wait for a moment. Charles was in deep. Erik would have to wait. His mind was blurred with pain so overwhelming that he couldn’t reach your mind. He could only feel your overpowering emotional turmoil with every fibre of his being.

“Can you feel me? I’m right here,” Charles asked the void in his mind, but much to his dismay there was no answer. “I can’t connect to her, we have to keep moving.”

“Just my luck,” Logan sighed as he followed behind a younger version of the man who had given him so much. “Come on then, put your skates on old man.”

“Who the hell are you calling old?” Charles chuckled as they ran down the corridors, moving deeper and deeper underground to where a row of cells were. “She must be in one of these?”

“Have you stopped to ask yourself if there’s a good reason she’s in here?” Logan wasn’t often the voice of reason in these types of situations, but as the two men stopped dead in their tracks right outside a prison door, he had to ask the question. “What if–”

“No reason would be justifiable for the amount of pain I feel,” Charles explained as he opened the door. The room was in complete darkness. You couldn’t see a single thing behind your blindfold. Charles physically felt his heart sink into his stomach as he hit the lights to reveal you, suspended in chains in the middle of the room. “Good lord.”

“Holy-” Logan’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “This is fucked.” He had a history of mutant experimentation, but to see this? To see you trapped inside your own body like this without any senses, was a devastating sight to bear witness to. Perhaps Charles was right? Who deserved this kind of treatment?

“I've got no strings. To hold me down. To make me fret. Or make me frown. I had strings. But now I'm free. There are no strings on me.” You sung inside your mind. The voices were loud and prevalent. So loud they often took total control of your limited imagination. “I've got no strings. So I have fun. I'm not tied up to anyone. They've got strings. But you can see. There are no strings on me.” Behind the muzzle that kept you quiet, you smiled wickedly with profound thoughts of total domination. One day the world would burn for what they had done to you.

“Hello?” Charles tried to gain your attention, but it was to no avail. The way your senses had been stripped made it impossible to get your attention. “Okay Logan, help me get her down from there.”

With reluctance oozing from his very being, Logan sliced through the metal chains that kept you suspended in the air.

“Ahh!” Your startled screams echoed off the walls from behind your muzzle as you fell. Charles was there, however, just waiting to break your fall. “What's going on!? What's happening!!” You mumbled from behind your muzzle. “This is your chance,” The voice inside your mind told you with excitement. “Take it, release your power.”

“It's alright!” Charles tried to calm your obvious fears. “We’re here to help you, you’re safe now.”

“Let me go!” The pain in your muffled voice. The strain in your pleas. The way you thrashed and kicked and screamed in Charles’s arms just trying to free yourself from whoever was in your cell made Logan question what true atrocities you’d been subjected to. But he still had his wits about him to not trust you entirely.

Normal people don’t just end up in facilities like this for no good reason. Although you were a mutant, there still had to be some reason for your imprisonment that Charles wasn’t taking into consideration.

“I’ve got you, can you feel me?” Charles asked as he took the earplugs from your ears. “I’m right here, I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” The sounds that flooded your ears were so loud it felt like they were going to force your head to explode. Like a flood bursting through a damn wall, your ears popped with the pressure change. “We’re here now.”

“Charles, I wouldn’t if I were you,” Logan growled as he stood by with his claws ready to go. The room was eerie enough on its own. With its entirely white setting, floor, walls, and roof. But with you looking like the thing that crawled out of the well in the ring, Logan was beginning to fear the worst. He’d seen that movie in the future…

“Do you really believe this crap?” The voices were loud, overwhelmingly fierce. “Who do they think they are?” They controlled your every thought, altering your perception of reality as the only friends you knew for years were inside your own head. Coaxing you towards insanity. Holding you hostage inside your own head.

“She’s in pain Logan, for god’s sake!” Charles snapped as he peeled your eyemask off. The overwhelming brightness from the fluorescent lights made your eyes roll into the back of your head. Retreating from the overexposure to a sense you had been deprived of for weeks. The touch you felt made your skin crawl. It burned like a ferocious fire igniting against your cells. Melting you away after years of no physical contact.

“Here, let me.” It was your muzzle next, the very thing that kept you from being able to entertain yourself. Soon enough everything that once kept you isolated and trapped within yourself had been released from your body.

You had been set free.

Finally.

“Kill them both,” The voice told you. “I can’t!” You replied as your voice cracked, it had been days since you were last able to vocalise a word. “But if you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you!” Your inner monologue, the leading lady, had a valid point. “They’re the people, they put you in here, they turned their back on you, and now they’ll pay the ultimate price.”

“Are you alright?” Charles questioned as he watched you somewhat convulse in his arms. His eyes cautiously scanned over your body. “I’m Charles, this is Logan, we’re–” Before Charles had a chance to finish his sentence, you were in his body. “What, what are you doing?” Charles could feel you in his skin. Moving. Controlling his limbs with your mind. The blood inside his body was no longer his. It was under your full control. “Stop, you don’t have to do this.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I TOLD you!” Logan hissed as he took a few strides towards you. Without looking, you had him in a chokehold. Completely unable to move against your complete control. You were bending his blood, the very life force inside us all. “What are you doing?”

“Humanity turned its back on me a long time ago.” You snarled, rising to your feet for the first time in weeks. The feeling of freedom. The feeling of power. Nothing compared to this. “You should have left me here to rot.” You swiped your hand to the left and watched as Logan slammed into the padded wall. The sound he made as he hit the ground made your nerve endings ignite with such delight that you swore it was more powerful than any man-made drug. “Let’s see how scared they become when I give them a reason to be.”

“Stop–” Charles tried to get inside your mind as you threatened to keep him down on his knees at your feet. “You don’t want to do this, we can help you!”

“I don’t want your help,” You chuckled as you controlled the man at your feet by the very blood that ran through his veins. “Years, YEARS I’ve been locked away and left to rot because I was different. Because I was powerful!” You explained as tears welled in your eyes. “Because they were scared of what I had the ability to do!”

“You’re a blood bender–” Logan asked as he stood, dusting himself off from his rollercoaster ride. “I thought you were all wiped out?” That sentence in and of itself said more than you could ever explain. Humanity was terrified of the things you had the ability to do. As far as you were aware, you were the last of your kind. A force to be reckoned with. Logan had watched what humanity had done to bloodbenders in a former life.

“I had a friend once, a blood bender, he was good people,” Logan tried to de-escalate the situation unfolding before him. But you had Charles under your total control. Logan had met Mark in the early nineties…But your kind, blood-benders, fell victim to a genetic disease that targeted your specific genetic makeup. Wiping blood-benders from the face of the earth without a cure. Logan hadn’t thought going back in time would have time standing face to face with someone who was technically extinct.

“Your friend,” You asked as you kept your control over Charles, his body was tense and shaking under the immense pressure you were putting on his body. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before. His mind was wide awake, in full control of his thoughts and emotions. But you had him completely under your control physically. It was a terrifying experience to not only witness but to feel. “Where is he now?”

“Not here,” Logan’s inability to answer truthfully told you everything you needed to know. He was dead. “But I can promise you, if you come with us, we can help you live a normal–” Logan had to pause. Nothing about what his life was like was ‘normal’. He was currently propelling his mind into the past to save his future self. What about that was normal? “Ish, a normal-ish life,” He corrected himself with a slight head tilt.

“Im going to kill your friend here,” You chuckled wickedly. “And you’re going to have to watch on knowing there was nothing you could have done to stop me.” It was a threat you truly meant with everything you had to give.

“If you do this? If you go down this road, a road that they already assumed you’d go down?” You were listening as he continued, but your control on Charles was unwavering. “Then they fucking win, they win because they knew you’d do exactly what you’re about to fucking do and personally?” Logan sighed as he took a single step towards you. “I don’t feel like chasing you down because I’ve already got a lot on my goddamn plate at the moment.”

“Get a bigger plate, asshole,” You replied, deciding to use the man at your feet as a weapon. “Catch.” You hissed, and with all your strength you threw Charles at Logan. The very sound of the two men colliding with one another could have given you an orgasm right then and there. But instead of sticking around to savour your handwork, you took off on foot.

“Don’t say a goddamn word,” Charles groaned as he regained control of his own body. Logan was quick to shove the man he wished he could beat the crap out of off of him. But he couldn’t do that right this minute. “She’s afraid,”

“She’s a goddamn liability, Charles!” Logan’s teeth would have shattered under the pressure at which he was gritting them together if he were a normal human being. But thankfully, he wasn’t. “You can’t save them all, she’s too far gone!”

“I bet people said that about you too?” Charles replied as he got off the floor, groaning as his body throbbed from being used as a personal plaything. “Tell me, Wolverine, who gave you a second, third, or fourth chance after people turned their backs on you?” “Because you know damn well you’re looking at him,” Charles reminded the time travelling mutant of all the forgiveness he’d experienced in his over-extended life. “She needs a second chance, and if I can’t give her that, who‘s bloody going to!”

“I hate that you’re somehow always fucking right, you prick,” Logan sighed as he tapped Charles on the shoulder. “C’mon then, let’s go fucking find her before she does something she can’t come back from.”

“Thank you, friend.” Was all Charles said as he walked alongside Logan. “A blood bender, that’s a new one.” It was the smile that crept itself across Charles’s face that made Logan question if it was really just about giving you a redemption arch, or if Charles had other, deeper investments in you.

“You felt her pain, you know what she’s been through, don’t you?” Logan asked as the two men made their way back to the elevator. Taking notice of the trail of dead bodies with blood coming out of their eyes, ears and noses.

“There no more damage that neither I, nor you can do in the hopes of saving her from herself, that would ever come close to what she’s been through,” Charles sighed as he looked at the destruction around him.

“She needs our help, even if it kills her.”

***********************

#ailesswhumptober2024 #ailesswhumptober #charles xavier #70s Charles Xavier #x men fanfic #charles xavier whump #Charles Xavier fanfiction #logan wolverine #logan howlett

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jenctrl · 2 months ago

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The thinkerers

Chiba Y/n or Chiba Akari, 20, doesn't know a thing or two about socialising, spends most of her time reading and avoiding everyone. "Raskolnikov-esque" aka has a God complex (is enlightened above all), but also feels like the worst person in the world, and those are the reasons why she's alone (is a student too). Loser #1

Sato Harumi or Umi, 23, Y/n and her might seem intelligent, but they share one brain cell which is usually in overdrive. Has known Y/n for three years and despite being in a different country she does her best to be there for her best friend after Y/n moved to South Korea to study. Loser #2

Choi Yeonjun, 22, is the only person who tried talking with Y/n more than once, and it actually worked as she considers him a mutual. He always invites her even though he knows she will decline. Has the confidence of a God, and no one is convinced he's real (anxiety is scared of him). Pro socialiser.

Pham Hanni, 18, part of a whole different building where the film/theatre courses are held, but hangs out at the writer's department. Claims to hate most people in her department building (still friends with everyone). Has forced herself into Y/n's life after they talked once at a party Y/n actually attended. (Lowkey Loser #3)

masterlist

face claims; y/n (aespa, winter), harumi (insta: pepczn)

Taglist - @yxlis @yncoreee @sixflame438 @sunshinez4 @starstruckgoateepuppy @winieter @luvvhaerin @neptunedayss @saysirhc @idkwhatim-doinghere101

#yunjin x reader #idol x reader #le sserafim #yunjin #le sserafim x reader #kpop gg #huh yunjin

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago

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The Sun, Sky and Beyond (Moon Knight x reader): Valentine’s Day Special

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MY BABIES <3 There’s nothing in this world greater than love and so may love find you in every aspect of your lives! Here’s a little day with the moon boys xxx

Word Count: 2.4k of fluff

You squint at the light that hit your eyes as you woke up to the sound of birds twittering outside your flat. You could smell the sunlight as it warmed the sheets, creating a comforting little bubble around you. You stretched your arm out only to find the space beside you empty. You hum and turn over onto the boys’ side, twisting your neck so that you could inhale their sweet familiar scent, grinning to yourself. The corner of the bed dipped slightly and your smile deepened, as their presence wrapped you in their embrace without them even laying a finger on you.

“Pst, baby, wake up.” Steven’s British drawl met your ears and greeted your brain with a shot of dopamine.

You stretched your arm towards him and beckoned him to join you. You feel the mattress move around you as he crawls over you and gently lays on top of you, the heaviness of his full body weight cracking and popping your sleepy joints. You groaned and laughed as Steven traced your neck with his nose, peppering tiny kisses in its wake.

“Let’s stay here forever, please?” you mumble as you run your hands through his unruly hair that was feathery soft and fluffy with sleep.

“I’d love that … but we have plans, love.” Steven whispered between kisses.

“We can still carry out ‘plans’ in bed, angel” you grinned as Steven slowly lifted his head from your neck.

“Now listen to me you little devil, don’t you dare tempt me with your tricks!” He feigned shock. “I’m left with no choice, I’ll have to banish the devil with my own hands.”

You gasped as one of Steven’s hands collected yours at the wrist and pinned it above your head before digging his fingers into your side. Steven knew all of your sweet spots and his skilled fingers tickled away, making you yelp and scream like a hyena. One of his legs pinned yours down, immobilizing you and you had to admit defeat before you peed yourself.

“OKAY, I’LL LISTEN!” you squealed when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Steven let go and brought his hands up to your face, brushing your hair away from your eyes with a smile.

“That’s my good girl. When we get back, we’ll most definitely listen to your plans, okay?” Steven smirked cheekily before giving you one last kiss and pulling you up with him.

“I do have a question for you though.” He says as he pulls you to the edge of the bed and kneels down on both knees in front of you.You raise your eyebrows to prompt him to continue. He reaches out and you think he's going to tuck your hair behind your ear but he pulls out three roses leaving you bewildered.

“Will you, my love, be our valentine?” Steven says, wiggling his eyebrows.

There was a pregnant pause as you stared at Steven. In that few seconds, you had a quaint realization that you were the luckiest human on the planet. Not many people are blessed with a loving partner, but you? You were blessed, not with one, but with three. Your heart ran itself on overdrive as it tried to pump blood cells into your brain for you to answer Steven’s question.

“Of course,” you breathed. “Of course I’ll be your valentine, all three of you.”

You were blushing and you swear Steven could feel your cheeks burning from where he knelt when he gave you a big toothy grin. You hid your face in your hands and felt like a schoolgirl for a second.

“Oh no, darling, what’s wrong?” Steven says, gently prying your hands from your face.

It’s not like you forgot it was Valentine’s Day, it’s just that today was the first time anyone had asked you to be their Valentine. After a whirlwind few months of dating your best friend, happiness you felt had infatuated you to the point that the idea of Valentine’s Day had totally slipped from your mind.

“It’s my first Valentine’s Day.” you whisper with a small smile.

“Oh!” Steven exclaimed.

“You scared me a little, but I think you may have forgotten that it’s our first Valentine’s Day too, if it makes you feel any better.” He said soothingly, as he caressed your cheek with his fingers.

You nod and watch as he stood up and scooped you up into his arms, making you giggle.

“We promise to make it count.” he said firmly as he carried you to the bathroom.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You come out of the bathroom a few minutes later to find a long, billowing sleeved lilac maxi dress that had a long slit up the front lying on the bed. You gaped at it for a while before you noticed the shade and smirked. Scanning the room for any sign of your boys, you sneaked into your secret compartment in the closet and pulled out a lacy lilac lingerie set that you had been saving, saying your goodbyes to it before putting it on. You quickly run through your hair and make up while Steven hopped in the shower.

Once you applied your kohl, Marc stepped out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his hips. Your eyes widen slightly to take his physique from the reflection of the mirror as he walks towards you.

“Stop checking me out, you perv!” He tutted before giving you a downward smile as you rolled your eyes.

He slung his arms around you and before you realized, he brought his hands to the back of your neck and with a click, left a beautiful white gold chain with a stone pendant.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. A little gift to add to your otherworldly appearance.” He smiled before kissing the top of your head and smoothing out your curls.

You stared open mouthed at the chain, your fingers grazing the flat oval stone. The stone was a peculiar color and you didn’t recognise it. On one side your initials were carved with a tiny intricate sun beside it.

“Marc, baby, this is lovely- why are you smiling like that?” You looked at Marc who had a mischievous smile on his face.

Otherworldly appearance.

“Marc, you did not!” you gasped, grabbing the pendant for a closer look.

“I, in fact, did not do anything stupid.” Marc said chuckling, “Asked the boss for some help.”

“It’s bloody beautiful.” you cradled the moon rock pendant in your hands standing up to press a kiss onto Marc’s lips.

“Glad you liked it, honey,” he said, glancing at the clock. “Alright, give me a few minutes, then Jake will show you your next surprise.

There’s more ?!

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You hold tightly onto Jake's hands as he leads you through a grass field, a soft satin blindfold obscuring your vision. The fresh smells of earth and grass hit you first, making you take a deep breath. You could feel the breeze flow through your hair. You feel yourself gently being pulled down. Instead of sitting on grass, your skin was presented with the feeling of soft wool. You could feel Jake slipping your sandals off and a rustle of something.

“You can open your eyes now. I hope you like it.” Jake’s lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to see. Your eyes were delighted by the rolling meadow before you, continuous hills of green that never seemed to have an ending. The bright sun and the singing birds made you think that you had stepped right into paradise, the seclusion of the place convincing you of that fact even more. You looked down and gapped at the enormous crochet blanket that had two large picnic baskets and pillows that surrounded you and Jake. A bouquet of orchids that matched the color of your dresses was perched on your lap and you lifted your hand to graze the flowers.

“Oh boys! This is beautiful.” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around Jake’s neck and hugging him close.

A Valentine’s Day picnic was definitely up there on your list of cute things that you’d never thought you would experience. You watch as Jake opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass for the both of you before handing you one. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, the floral aroma of the wine tickling your nose and the citrusy flavors bursting on your tongue. You found out that they had filled the picnic baskets to the brim with your favorite snacks and fruits.

The boys had a system of taking turns and after your first glass of wine had been drained, you found Steven staring at you with a dopey look on his face.

“Come on, I have something for you.” He said, patting his lap.

“What here? In the open?” your eyes widened slightly.

“Gods, not that genius, lay your head here.” Steven laughed, rolling his eyes.

He pulled out his notebook as you settled your head on his lap, staring up at him.

“I wrote something for you.” Steven started shyly.

You nodded, encouraging him to go on, excited for what was in store for you.

“I’ve heard stories of angels but never thought they were true, but in seeing you I have become a believer. I only wake up with the dream to see you, to hear the air that is filled with your honeyed voice and to feel the sand that blossoms like flowers at your feet. In your beauty, I perceive life and with you beside me, I recognise myself and sought to follow your shadows. Looking beyond your divine appearance and seeing your soul, I see the true colors of your heart. The moon and white clouds beautifully blend with each other, so who else is there to understand the desires of my heart? My heart is not like yours as it has gone through changes and my reality is confusing, but you’ve managed to create a painting that involves my troubled soul crossing with yours.”

When he finished, you thought that your heart had stopped for a second. The words sunk deep into your skin and stitched your heart from all its sorrows, drowning you in a sea of Steven’s undying love. You were quite frankly speechless from the passage he had read from you, wondering how someone could see you the way that he did.

“Steven, shit, that was beautiful.” Your eyes began to well up with tears as you sat up to capture his lips in a blazing kiss. “You really think of me like this?”

“All the time, my love.” he breathed.

You spent the next few hours just talking to your boys about everything and anything under the sun. Your short attention span and the buzz from the alcohol caused you to jump from one topic to the next like a live wire but the boys just chuckled and jumped along with you.

“It’ll be so cute to raise children in a place like this, quiet and sweet, away from the bustle of the city, just being ourselves.” you say, popping a grape into your mouth.

“Oh yeah for sure. By the way, remember the tiny police station we passed by? When the children grow up we’ll definitely find them there on a daily basis because the little delinquents will be your children.” Marc said, grinning from ear to ear.

You hurled a grape at him which bounced off his aviators.

“Fine! Our children, happy?”

“That’s right, our.” you huff, settling back into the pillows.

While you were snacking, Marc pulled his guitar out and started to sing for you. It was your favorite thing in the world, watching Marc’s fingers dance lightly as he strummed the strings, humming to the tune.

“Howlin’ green, green rocky road,

You promenade in green,

Tell me who you love,

Tell me who you love?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“I love you!” you giggle.

His sweet voice envelopes you like a warm blanket.

“When I go by Baltimore,

Ain't no carpet on my floor,

You come along, and follow me.”

“I’ll follow you wherever, my love.” You smile as he finishes with a flourish.

He continued to serenade you until it was Jake’s turn and he shooed you away to explore while he set up everything. You walked around until you spotted a bed of wild daisies, plucking them and making two crowns, one for you and one for Jake. When you got back, Jake had set up paint, brushes and two small sized canvases.

“Jake! I have a surprise for you, close your eyes please!” You say as you hide the flower crowns behind your back.

As soon as he closed his eyes, you lightly balanced the flowers atop his head of curls, holding a compact mirror in front of him before asking him to open his eyes.

He squinted at the mirror and smiled radiantly when he noticed the crown on his head.

“Where's yours?” he asked.

You presented your crown to him and he gently took it from you, placing it on your head and smoothing down your hair, kissing your forehead and nose.

“Mi reina.” Jake declared as he bowed, making his crown go slightly lopsided, extending his hand for you to take.

You blushed and took his hand, letting him help you sit down. The both of you then got onto painting. Almost immediately, Jake ditched the brushes and started painting with his fingers, scooping globs of paint and slathering it onto the canvas. You followed suit soon and found it much more fun, layering the paint with your fingers. You stop after a while, watching as Jake’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his lips cutely pursed together. You silently lean over, until you booped Jake’s nose with a tiny bit of blue paint.

Jake looked at you with wide eyes before crossing his eyes to look at his nose. He blinked twice and you jumped into action leaning over and kissing him dramatically with a big muah. He finally snaps out of his daze and wipes his fingers, pushing the art supplies aside before tackling you. He locks you in his embrace and pins you down with a smirk on his face. He then lowers his lips to yours and returns your kiss with a bigger one that sent you and him into a fit of giggles.

“I love you so much, all three of you.” you smile up at your boyfriends’ face, your heart feeling totally at ease.

“We love you too, angel. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Tagging: @campingwiththecharmings @in-between-the-cafes @mintpurplemnm @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @pakhiya @romanarose @swiggy-needs-mental-help @softieekayy @luc-k-y @lia275 @brekkers-desigirl @kybitchcrystal

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anonymous-dentist · 9 months ago

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Espera entonces es como si el virus usara de marioneta los cuerpos de los muertos? o.o

solo quiero confirmar si entendí

More or less!

Think of it like this:

Tom dies, but the virus makes his immune system go into overdrive. Some parts of his body regains its facilities, but, his brain is dead. He isn’t there anymore.

But the virus is alive, and its entire purpose is to live, so it’s going to make Tom’s body do what it needs to do for survival. But viruses aren’t really alive, biologically speaking, so this one doesn’t really know what the body needs to survive and keep the virus “alive”

Humans just so happen to be the virus’ primary target because of the way it was created. Remember, its only purpose was to bring the dead back to life, and the virus knows it needs to spread to do that. So the virus goes for the nearest human to infect them and spread and save them from dying, and the easiest way to get to the nervous system is through white blood cells, and the easiest way to get to them is through blood. Hence the biting. And, from there, the body’s muscle memory kicks in and it gets what food it can get from the human being bitten

So it’s kind of a mix! The virus takes care of a lot of it, but the body itself does some things on its own. The human being inside is dead, because the parts of the brain in charge of consciousness have been destroyed by an overactive immune system heating the body up to a dangerous degree, but the rest of the brain survives just enough to try and keep the body alive

If that makes sense. I’m not a biologist, but I think diseases are super fun, and I think viruses are fascinating. They aren’t actually biologically alive! They’re just kinda! There! And I feel like they could possibly be used by the same types of guys who make vaccines for some crazy experiments to avoiding death, some kind of hubris-fueled bullshit to try and avoid the inevitable

#asks!#anon!#zomberbit au

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adracat · 6 months ago

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yes, hello. I’d like to attack you with unrelenting happiness for the next few minutes of your time. it’s a feedback loop originating from and re-projecting back to you.

first of all, seeing your deconstructions after stumbling upon your ao3 makes me regret missing out on the live updates from you and the community here (aniwave comments are dogshit)

thank you for your posts. they let me think critically about and appreciate g-witch that much more from novel analysis perspectives. reading back a bit, especially to your take on scenes such as ep10’s communication clear up, and seeing these pieces given the gravity and respect they deserve, is taking the bite off of the series’ conclusion.

speaking of treating the sulemio shaped hole in the networks from now on, a red tempest is the kind of fic one wishes they could distill and take intravenously at maximum drip.

it won’t be for everyone, and you think law of causality is your best (haven’t read it yet), but it feels like you’re writing professional grade work just for me with how it seemingly doesn’t miss or waste a line. you present a tight ship regardless of whether that’s how you run it. the story feels compact and layer woven yet flows along seamlessly and with that wonderful sense of OC unlimited potential, dropping shadows here and there but keeping me fully on my toes. still in the rising action, but hopefully multiple full arcs…? (worth!)

the spots of canon that you spun into a universe feel weighted, alive with the way your voice gives an inherent gravitas even to small supporting details, and nothing is more alive than your characters.

you do them so well, it’s impossible to stress enough. regardless of where they’re going in the future, where you’ve had them come from and be is so genuine and, in most cases, compliant/paying close homage in their personalities. your dialogue is a breath of life. eri and chuchu particularly, and prospera especially.

there are small things that are subtle like suletta being a bit less anxious at the start, and there are larger things that are less subtle like all of prospera— yours of whom I love— but everything’s working believably and in sync as you craft this beautiful story. my only complaint is that I think the next release is gonna be a sulemio heavy chapter during the job’s sudden distress, and it isn’t this weekend’s release date yet.

there’s a lot else, like the many juxtapositions, the slow burn, and other emotional/literary devices, but while I’ve already spent too long trying to put just this much of a review/praise bomb together, I’ve gotta jaw on a bit more about your fantastic perspective work with clear voices for each heroine. it’s so exciting getting into the younger couple’s heads when it comes to each other. you’re probably going to slaughter me with elnora and notrette, but ch11’s suletta and mio are already doing it with their pining.

thank you. it’s a joy and a pleasure. I hope to read you for a long time to come. I’d ask to share some of your brain chemicals, but reading the product makes mine just as happy. I hope that means we share a brain cell; then I could rise and meet the caliber. o7

That’s so sweet of you! And absolutely; sending you spiritual braincells 🤗 I put a wealth of thought into all my works but something about Sulemio and Prospera✨ sends my brain into overdrive. Law of Causality and A Red Tempest are passion driven works that I’m happy to share with likeminded people. If you ever do decide to give AASB and its sister works a try you may find interesting connections. ART is a bit of a spiritual sequel in a way. Though admittedly ART Prospera may be a rascally devil but is intentionally more likable than LoC ‘Prospera’. I decided to make her pathetic in ART for funsies 👏

Thanks so much for the kind words ❤️Encouragement gives me wings to confidently move forward—just like our merry cast!

#g witch #adracatwrites #A Red Tempest

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optiwashere · 1 year ago

Text

Written for Smutmas 2023.

You just know that I had to start out the month this way, right? Here's some post-epilogue fluffy smut that takes advantage of some of the dialogue Shadowheart says in the Selûnite ending. Telling Asheera she wants to be "whisked away someplace quiet" sent every single brain cell I have into overdrive.

You can check out the schedule for the month here!

Rating: E for Emotions & Oral, my Beloveds

Category: F/F

Ship: Shadowheart/Trans Fem Tav

Tags and AO3 Summary under the break.

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Porn with Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Post-Epilogue, Trans Female Character, Half-Orc Tav, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Emotional Sex, Girl Penis

Summary:

Now that everyone is departing the long-awaited reunion, Shadowheart is buzzed on wine and needy for a little more than just a chaste peck on the lips. Takes place just after the epilogue.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #shadowheart x oc #oc: asheera #asheera x shadowheart #my fic #anotheropti smutmas 2023 #<- there's your tag

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fantasiawandering · 11 months ago

Text

Could use some good vibes

LC health stuff under the cut

So I'm in month 18 of Long COVID. It has ups and down, but I've been very, very down the last almost 2 weeks. We're a bit closer to answers -- basically (and I share this because all the clinics in my province closed, so we really only have each other to rely on for potential answers), COVID and LC are known to mess with the immune system. Sometimes it can interfere with T-cell production, and sometimes your immune system gets thrown into overdrive and causes system-wide inflammatory reactions. They think the latter is what has been happening to me. I've had an undiagnosed infection for I'm not sure how long because I'm not reacting in a typical way to infection. But it's caused inflammatory reactions in my guts, eyes, and heart. The latter has been the scariest. Once we figured out what was going on, I'm now on antibiotics for the infection, anti-inflammatory drops for my eyes, and ibuprofen for everything else. The heart palpitations have calmed down considerably, as have the chest pains. But I've been terrified for almost two weeks, to the point where I sigh in relief when I wake up because hey, you made it through the night, and it's at the point where a minor twinge in my ribs kicks off an adrenaline rush of fear. I'm on my own, and I really feel it late at night, and I could use some good vibes my way if you have any to spare.

I should make it very clear, all of my doctors think this is the kind of thing that's scary to live through but not actually dangerous, and my logical brain understands that. But logic isn't in the driver's seat of my brain at the moment, and my brain is VERY good at spinning out into worst-case scenarios, and sometimes I get very sad and scared, and I talk to my little sister every night, but I can't let her know quite how scared I am, and I just need to get it out of me, you know? Thanks for listening. <3

#health stuff

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imagineanime2022 · 2 years ago

Text

S/O With Dark Humour

Lucifer X Reader, Mammon X Reader, Leviathan X Reader, Satan X Reader, Asmodeus X Reader, Beelzebub X Reader, Belphagor X Reader

Requested: Anon

Request: If you feel comfortable doing it can I request headcanons for the obey me boys reaction to a reader that uses dark humor as a coping mechanism? I love your blog btw!

Warning: Dark humour

Lucifer

📚 Lucifer honestly wasn’t expecting it, he’s never really been faced with someone who uses dark humour the way that you did. 📚 He’s never used that type of humour in general so it took a little while for him to even realise that you were joking. 📚 Actually had to consult his brothers because he was worried for you but the more that you said things like that, the more he accepted your sense of humour. 📚 As soon as he realised that you used it as a coping mechanism he’d always find out whatever was bothering you and find a way to fix it.

You were sitting in Lucifer’s office, he was busy doing paper work until you mumbled something to yourself. “Hm?” He hummed as he looked up at you leaning over your homework “Is there a spell out there that can turn the vacant space between my ears into something useful?” You asked as you looked at him, if this had been a few months ago, he would have worried about what you said, instead he walked over to you and sat next to you. “What happened?” He asked as he looked over what you were trying to understand. “Magical potions class is just like chemistry and I was never good at that.” You answered. “There’s nothing going on up here on a normal day but my one brain cell is going into overdrive at this now.” “You know, you could just say that you don’t understand, you don’t have to put yourself down like that.” He sighed as he picked up the paper that you were looking at. “What are you talking about?” You asked leaning back in your chair and he rolled his eyes before pulling you closer and sitting you on his lap for him to explain everything that you didn’t understand.

Mammon

💳 Mammon understands exactly what you're doing the moment that you do it because he does the opposite, with the way that he talks about himself. 💳 He was careful about what he says about you, he knew that everything he said about you, you took to heart. 💳 In response to everything you said he would say something to compliment you and then blush profusely when you acknowledged it. 💳 Mammon likely doesn’t realise that it’s a coping mechanism and unknowingly fixes whatever problem that you come across.

You had actually bumped into each other, he was on his way to find you and you were on your way to your next lesson, you ended up literally crashing into each other and you laughed it off making a comment about people stepping all over you because you were a doormat. Mammon didn’t have enough time to set that straight before you rushed off to your next class but he didn’t forget what you had said.

That evening when you were sitting in your room working through work from the classes you attended that day, when Mammon came in and flung himself over your lap “Hello” You greeted him softly as he wrapped his arms around your middle “what are you doing there?” “Nothin’” He answered. “Is something wrong?” You asked. “No, I’m just catchin’ up on somethin’” He answered. “What are you talking about?” You asked pushing away your work to play with his hair. “You're more than a doormat.” Came his muffled reply as he buried his face in your stomach and even if you knew what you said was a joke you appreciated this affirmation so instead of saying anything you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his head as he tightened his hold on you.

Leviathan

🐈 He does it himself so he knew exactly what you were doing but he was shocked that you did it and that you were somehow worse than he was. 🐈 You were both constantly scolding the other for making self-deprecating jokes and even ended up having an argument once. 🐈 You were sitting in his room, you were sitting with your legs over his lap, and you were scrolling through your devilgram. 🐈 Levi flung his hands down when he lost yet again and you jumped he apologised but you waved off saying something about finding a new talent as a punching bag.

“What did you just say?” Levi asked, putting down the controller and looking at you. “I said that I learned a new talent punching bag.” You muttered as you continued scrolling and honestly didn’t even realise what you had said. Levi reached out grabbing your phone and throwing it down next to you, he was now leaning over you. “I thought I told you not to say things like that!” He almost whined and you looked at them and rolled your eyes. “Have you stopped calling yourself a stinky otaku?” You asked, he dropped his head hiding his face and you smirked. “That’s different.” He mumbled as his tail wrapped around your waist to stop you from moving to sit up properly “How is that different?” You asked. “You implied that anyone could hit you and it’s be fine.” Levi frowned. “No one is allowed to hit you.” “Will you, my big strong avatar of Envy, save me?” You asked. “I protect you from everything, even yourself.” He mumbled. “Thank you.” You said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Satan

As smart as he is he didn’t realise what you were doing until one of the other brothers pointed out to him. Once he realised what you were doing he literally stopped talking to you, angry that you’d think that way about yourself. He reads about your humour and how it’s commonly developed, he realised you were using it as a coping mechanism. Then he just tried to eliminate anything that would push you to that type of humour but of course he couldn’t protect you from everything.

Satan was studying while you were lying across his bed holding your phone up as you scrolled things on your phone, he glanced over at you for a second as you let your phone fall. “What happened?” He asked. “Hm?” You asked. “You just threw your phone down… What happened?” You asked. “Oh nothing.” You answered, he walked over picking up your phone. You don’t know how easily he opened the DDD and found the page where you had posted your most recent picture. There were a couple of succubi that were commenting some pretty distasteful things. “You know these demons?” He asked. “No, I think they’re in some classes with us.” You answered “doesn’t matter it’s not like their wrong-” “Stop.” He ordered. “I was only joking.” You smiled and he leaned down. “You know I don’t find it funny.” He mumbled putting your phone in his back pocket as he leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips. “Ignore them.” “I am.” You smirked and he narrowed his eyes. “No more jokes at your own expense.” He corrected himself and you roll your eyes. “I’ll do my best.” You mumbled.

Asmodeus

💅 Asmo knows what you're doing and hates what you're doing, he knew from the start and devised a plan to stop you. 💅 He knew that you were doing it to cope with the situation that you had been put in so sometimes he’d do normal things with you just to distract you. 💅 He hated when people laughed at the jokes that you told but he never said anything, just denied everything you said and complimented you instead. 💅 There was a time that he was having a really bad day and you made a joke about yourself that actually made him cry and you had to console him, you were at least careful after that.

You were sitting in front of his mirror as he carried out some skincare routine, you smiled at him as he booped your nose before turning you to the mirror, it was almost like he read your face and before you could say anything he pressed his lips to yours in a playful kiss. “Think before you talk.” He reminded you and you looked at him and smirked. “Are you asking me not to say-” He cut you off again with another kiss. “Or maybe you mean-” He kissed you again “are you going to let me speak?” “Are you going to say something nice?” He asked, the silence that followed made him lean forward and press another kiss to your lips “that’s what we’ll be working on.” “Huh?” You grunted as he easily lifted you, despite the way he looked he was able to carry you over to the bed easily. “Shopping, makeovers, self-care until you stop making those jokes.” He decided. “Well you know I’m not against that.” You sighed snuggling into him and he smiled down at you. “Good so you’ll be here every night right?” He asked. “If that’s what you want.” You mumbled. “That’s what I want.” He confirmed before allowing you to fall asleep.

Beelzebub

🍔 Beel was the only one, who heard it and understood it the first time that you ever did it. 🍔 He’s also figured out how to use it to find out what mood and how much something bothered you based on your tone of voice and body language. 🍔 He always tried to offer you food to distract you if things were really bad but more often than not he’d just listen to you. 🍔 He never liked the humour that you used but he would probably be the only one that doesn’t necessarily try to stop just enforcing how important you are to him.

Beel looked at you, he was worried, he knew that something was bothering you but not a single dark natured joke had passed your lips. He looked around trying to figure out what was going on himself but instead he just picked you up. “Beel what are you doing?” You asked. “You're not making jokes.” He mumbled “something is really bothering you.” “Is that so?” You asked. “I know you… You’ve been here long enough.” He answered. “So where are we going?” You asked. “Somewhere that you can talk.” He answered as you relaxed yourself, not even trying to figure out where you were going.

Beel took you back to the attic, he could see Belphie was asleep up there but that didn’t bother either of you. “Talk.” Beel ordered as he opened a snack, he offered you some which you took as you started going through everything that was bothering you, the more that you talked the more that the jokes seemed to flow through and before he knew it you were back to normal. “Thank you Beel.” You smiled. “Mmm, you're important to me, I have to make sure that you're okay.” Beel said softly. “Yeah, maybe I don’t need to be cerberus’ new chew toy.” You sighed and Beel just rolled his eyes.

Belphegor

💤 Belphie was shocked away from his drowsy state because of the comment that you made about yourself. 💤 For the most part he’d just smirk or roll his eyes while dragging you in to rest with him, once he was sure you were sleeping he’d sort out whatever the problem was. 💤 If someone else made a joke about you, he was quick to shut that down even if you were sure that he was asleep. 💤 Belphie would often keep you close because you were likely to agree with anything that anyone said about you so he’d be there to make sure you knew otherwise.

You lumbered your way into the attic groaning “what’s wrong with you?” Belphie asked, popping an eye open to make sure that you weren’t actually hurt. “I should have stayed dead when you killed me.” You mumbled. “Excuse me?” He asked sitting up and “Nothing it’s fine I just need a nap I’ll be fine.” You answered falling face flat on to the bed, Belphie just managed to move his feet out of the way so you didn’t hurt yourself. “Okay are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He asked moving your body with some difficulty considering you were doing nothing to help him. “Just some assignment that is going to take me forever and a retake for a test that I failed and I’m starting to wonder if life would be easier if I stayed dead.” You mumbled as he finally positioned your body over his as you buried your face in his neck. “It wouldn’t be life.” Belphie answered as he wrapped an arm around you “and I really like having you around.” “You like having me around?” You asked. “Are you sure?” “Positive.”

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offsidekineticist · 1 year ago

Text

And now we take a breath, because Giliys needs to figure out how to get Theo home, and even he needs a break from angsting every now and then. Here's part 4 of the (Completely Platonic!) Breakup arc.

Interlude

The Temple of Aroden in Rego Cader is a fucking wreck, but in comparison to the rest of the district it's prime real estate. The place has been abandoned for decades–maybe even since the death of Aroden–so there's a thick layer of grime on everything. The altar is gone, probably stolen, and the pews are rotting. The glass has been taken from the stained glass windows, and the gaping holes that remain in their place have been boarded up with wooden planks that are also half-rotted. The sacking of the temple is so complete that you can only tell whose temple it was because Aroden's holy symbol was chiseled into the floor–it was probably leafed with gold once upon a time. The gold is long gone, of course, along with the tiles that probably used to cover the rest of the floor, but they couldn't steal chisel marks. Not yet, anyhow.

"Where have you been? What part of 'emergency' was unclear?!" Qweck hisses at you when you finally arrive, and you scowl at her.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to travel with this fuckin Reclamation bullshit going on?" you demand. "Fuckin altar boys have the ports locked up, and every city in the plains is locked down. I had to detour to fuckin Absalom to find smugglers who would take me anywhere near here, and that meant stopping in every Garundi port between here and Absalom, and then I had to figure out a way to get into this horror show of a district–"

"Alright, yes, you are very brave and strong, Giliys, thank you for enduring this odyssey for us," she interrupts. "Now please come over here and look at our plans."

"Plans for what?" you ask as you follow her through the sanctuary. "And who's 'us?' You still haven't told me what the fuck I'm doing here."

"Theoven Derenge," she says, "the children's librarian at the Brastlewark Public Library, has been arrested by the Order of the Rack. They're holding him in Citadel Rivad."

Your brain seems to freeze for a moment. And then it goes into overdrive. They got Thay. You don't understand how–you were the only connection he had with any resistance cells. He did what he could to support your work with the Bellflower Network, but that was as direct as he was willing to get. "I've had a hand in raising so many of Brastlewark's children that I shudder to think what would happen if the powers that be ever felt they had to purge my influence from the city," he explained once. Not even Qweck had known he was involved in resisting Thrune in any capacity–hell, she didn't even know you and Theo had met. You were the only one who knew, and you certainly didn't tell anyone, so–

Does he know that?

You feel the blood drain from your face and your stomach turn over. You were the only one who knew. You know you didn't betray him–but does he? Is he sitting in Rivad, cursing your name because he thinks you're the one who sold him out? He must be–what else could he think? In his eyes you're devil-worshiping scum. He wouldn't be surprised to find out paladins can smite you. Betrayal isn't much of a stretch from there–you did it to every one of your victims after all, why not him?

"Giliys? Giliys!" Qweck's voice startles you out of your thoughts. She's glaring at you, her arms crossed and hip canted. "Could you at least pretend to care that the fate of an innocent man is at stake?"

"Well, excuse me for being confused about why the fuck the Rack would drag a children's librarian halfway across the country for interrogation."

"He had banned books."

In other words, his paranoid insistence of keeping his very illegal collection on his person at all times finally bit him in the ass. Shit, this means the Rack is probably keeping his mom's bag, too, doesn't it? He'll be heartbroken over that if you can't get it back for him.

"Hold up–doesn't your king have a deal with dear old Abby that keeps the Rack out?" You ask, the thought occurring to you suddenly. She shrugs, just as lost as you are.

"It didn't apply here I guess? They were looking for someone specific. I assume Thornfiddle let them in as a show of good will and just didn't expect that they'd arrest someone quite so beloved."

Looking for someone specific, and left when they grabbed Thay. It certainly sounds like someone tipped them off about his books. Yeah, Thay probably thinks you sold him out. Hell, you'd think you'd sold him out if it wasn't for you…uh…being you.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"So you can probably guess where this is going," Qweck continues, oblivious to your thoughts. "There are three of us already willing to do something about this, but none of us have ever done anything like this before, and…we…need your help."

It almost sounds like it was physically painful for her to say that. You put a hand to your ear. "Sorry, I didn't catch that–I'm middle aged, now, you know–could you say that again?"

She closes her eyes and sighs, and you can tell she's praying or reciting mantras or whatever shit she does when she's worried she might crap out the stick up her ass. "I need your help," she repeats, and your eyes widen on their own. She really is desperate.

Of course she's fucking desperate! Someone she loves is in Citadel Rivad, you fucking asshole.

You drop your hand from your ear. "Well, I guess if you really need me, I can lend a hand." You cross your arms. "You said there were three of you?"

Five minutes later you're struggling not to gape at this crew made of, apparently, three of Thay's favorite students, because, gods, Thay likes the weird ones. The first, obviously, is Qweck–the gnomish devotee of a god obsessed with self-control and discipline even though she was literally born bleaching. But you already knew about Qweck. You did not know about Kob or Vrakka.

Vrakka is a half-orc–her mother is an orc, her father is a human, and both parents still live in Brastlewark. You get the feeling that growing up in Brastlewark was a pretty shitty experience for her, partly because she's more than six feet tall and feels even bigger, partly because when she came of age she wandered into the woods and never came back. Apparently she did it on Thay's advice, which feels weirdly irresponsible of him.

"Mr. Theo knew what I was capable of," she says with a laugh at the sight of your face when she tells you this. "It was he who took me for my first walks through the wilderness around Brastlewark. He used to say the bleaching took the color of the First World from him so that he could be more sensitive to the color of this world. Not that he's done anything to hone that skill, mind you."

"So you came back cuz you heard he was arrested?" You clarify.

"Yes. The birds brought Tidings of his ordeal."

You're not sure if she's a druid or crazy. She might be both. You should clarify that point before you set out to infiltrate one of the most secure facilities in Cheliax.

Kob, on the other hand, is definitely crazy. "BEHOLD, LESSER CREATURE: THE MIGHT AND POWER OF A TRUE DRAGON!" he says in the most self-aggrandizing manner you've ever seen.

He is not a dragon. He is a gnome. He is covered in black scales, with black wings on his back (which, during his introduction, he flared out to great dramatic effect) and long claws, but he is a gnome covered in black scales, with black wings and long claws.

"Uh…huh…" you say, eying Qweck and Vrakka. Play along, Qweck mouths to you while Vrakka rolls her eyes and shrugs. "And, uh, why would a creature so Great and Powerful as you want to help us 'lesser creatures?'"

Kob scowls. "I OWE A GREAT DEBT TO THE ONE CALLED 'MISTER THEO.' FOR, LOATHE AS I AM TO ADMIT IT, I WAS NOT BORN A MEMBER OF MY NOBLE RACE, BUT AS A LOWLY GNOME. THE ONE CALLED 'MISTER THEO' GUIDED ME IN MY QUEST FOR KNOWLEDGE, AND IT WAS UNDER HIS TUTELAGE THAT I FIRST HEARD THE NAME OF THE ANCIENT DRAGON WHO WOULD SEE MY POTENTIAL AND TRAIN ME TO ASCEND TO THE HIGHEST HEIGHTS OF DRAGONKIND: LATHIMAS."

From what you can gather, Kob's lifelong hyperfixation (most gnomes have at least one) was that he wanted to be a dragon. You vaguely recall Thay telling story about his first couple of years as a librarian involving a little boy the town had nicknamed Kobold because he wanted to be a dragon when he grew up, and how the kid tracked gold glitter all over the library after he seemingly bathed in the stuff trying to turn himself into a gold dragon.

Apparently little Kobold grew up to study dragons and magic and travel the world in search of a way to chase his dream. Eventually he met the ancient black dragon Lathimas and submitted to his tutelage, and in time he became worthy of ascending to dragonhood. Because he is definitely a dragon now, and certainly not a gnome whose mind has shattered under the weight of a careless infusion of draconic magic. (You decide that if this Lathimas guy exists, he's a dick)

That said, Kob can fly, he's stupidly strong, and apparently Vrakka did see him turn into an actual dragon for a couple of minutes once (though he refers to it as "BEARING THE ASPECT OF DAHAK," which isn't concerning in the slightest). And that, combined with Vrakka's reassurance that she is, in fact, a druid, piques something in your mind. Something that begins to spin itself into a plan.

"Ok," you finally say. "I have an idea."

#Oc: giliys #Oc: Qweck #Oc: vrakka #Oc: kob #pwotr pals #pathfinder wotr #The (Completely Platonic!) Breakup Arc #Part 4

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