#things are easier to deal with a step removed

[mischiefmaker615]

Use Me (Loki Love Story) Ch.4

Summary: Loki shows up at your brothel with an offer. What could go wrong?

Requested song inspiration: Use Me by Johnny Blue Skies & Dove Cameron & Diplo

Your stubbornness remained and you came out with a towel wrapped around you. He had left you to finish up your routine- yet with the anxiety of him popping in at any moment. He never did, so you felt like you rushed for nothing.

You weren’t sure why you were making all of this difficult. Men have done things to you before- mostly for their own gain. Perhaps its more personal because it was Loki- and the fact that you’d see him the next day unlike the other clients. It was easier to do things with the assurance they were gone.. but now you belonged to your client; the very client that sat in his lounge chair with a book in his hand and a towel around his waist.

‘’..will I be provided with a nightgown?” you asked quietly, feeling the tips of your hair dripping still with left over water while you tried not to shiver.

‘’I told you your clothes have been removed, what do you think?” he asked, not even bothering to look up from his book while he spoke with his casual tone.

You weren’t sure why you even tried, frankly you should have seen that coming. Looking around, you were unsure of what to do at this point and you were pretty sure Loki was ignoring you to drag on your uncomfortableness. Nevertheless, he ended up snapping his book shut, making you jump a bit where he then set it aside to lean on his forearms against his knees, looking at you hungrily as if it were the first time- and that he hadn’t just seen you naked moments ago.

‘’you’ll catch a cold if you remain in a wet towel, and I do not wish to have my sheets soaked.. not that way, anyway.’’

Your cheeks heated while you clutched the towel closer to yourself, daring to glance at the bed and you could have sworn it wasn’t that small a second ago. ‘’..I’ll be sharing your bed?-‘’

‘’were you under the impression you’ll be taking the study couch?” he chuckled and you honestly debated on it. If you were in his bed with you, you knew what that meant.. but that was the deal wasn’t it..

‘’wherever you’ll have me serve you my prince..’’ you said carefully. The faster and frequent stuff like this was done, the sooner you could leave.

This seemed to please Loki, earning a smirk on his lips while he stood up- the towel hanging on his hips with a prayer while he slowly made his way over to you. His height made itself perfectly known with the way your eyes had to rise while he neared, and you didn’t dare step away while you concentrated on breathing. Once he stood before you, his hands clasped behind his back and looked you over, your eyes so wanting to look over his toned chest and stomach while they kept on his gaze.

‘’you will need to figure out a solution for yourself darling. I am quite forgiving but angered quite fast. Follow the rules, and we will get along just fine.’’ He smirked and placed a hand below your chin, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip while you shivered. ‘’I expect a result when I return.’’ He then moved past you, his side brushing up against yours harshly that made you catch your footing while the towel almost fell off around you.

You caught yourself before you could glare in his direction, watching him disappear into the bathroom while you wrapped the towel firmly around you. Little shit.. you hated thinking that of your prince- you’ve never thought ill will against him.. but you never imagined him to be.. this kind of cruel.

You supposed it could be worse.. mind torture may be better than getting beaten.. maybe not? You just didn’t understand why he just didn’t fuck you, pay and repeat. That routine sounded a far lot simple than.. whatever he was doing here. Was teasing you some sort of foreplay?

To your utmost surprise, you found yourself wet regardless and hated yourself. His eyes.. the way they seemed to study your every movement. His skin was so smooth and flawless, how you wished you could run your hands everywhere.. his voice- gods how you wished he could talk behind you.. his cock- that’s the one thing that had you shivering and your heart racing at the same time. It will be by far your largest, but.. you were sure you could take it.. somehow..

Right now you needed to figure out a solution to not break the rules by wearing any sort of clothing, or get his bed wet. The towel was already semi soaked from when you dried most of yourself- your hair will for sure cover the last inches of the dry parts of the towel.

The fireplace.. that should speed things along-

You quickly moved over to where it cracked and knelt down, rubbing your hands in its warmth first before you glanced over your shoulder. Loki was finishing his bath he didn’t finish.. you almost felt guilty.. almost.. he may be awhile, so you quickly drew a bath and unwrapped yourself. The thick carpet was warm and soft from where you sat, adding extra comfort with the fire. You continued drying your hair with the towel until you knew for certain it would do you no more good and set it aside.

Semi dry.. but still noticeable.. would Loki touch you to make sure? Run his fingers through your hair? Notice if a single drop of water was left on you? This was petty.. this was impossible.. what would he do? You didn’t know if you shivered from the thought or that you were still trying to keep warm but for some reason, the room began to grow colder.

You glanced towards the balcony but didn’t find the doors open, nor any windows. Damn.. you were freezing! Even this close to the fire, it should be doing something! You rubbed your arms and felt your chest getting affected by the frigid temperature. You quickly pulled your knees up to your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how naked you were but there was no way in Hel you were going to wrap yourself back up in the wet cold towel.

You had no solutions and you realized it.. he wanted you naked.. defeated, losing whatever game he was playing.. you stayed knelt on the ground while a arm wrapped to cover your chest while your other rested down with your hand covering your intimate area. This was humiliating and you shivered. Cold and scared. What would be the punishment?

Loki came back out with a towel around his hips again and a spare he was using to dry some of his hair. He stopped just two steps out of the bathroom and rested your eyes on you. His expression, you weren’t sure. You stared at the floor shivering, red faced and tried controlling your breathing.

‘’I’m sorry my prince.. I’m still a little wet and could not find a proper solution..’’ your words came out in a cold chatter, quiet and careful.

The silence made you dare begin to look up, to see if he was angry but as soon as you saw movement, you closed your eyes. Would you hear the whoosh of a belt? Perhaps him drawing a sharp breath before he would curse at you? Maybe nothing at all before you feel the impact of something.. and still, nothing.

Nothing until you felt a slender, smooth finger pad rest below your chin and raise your head, making you slowly open your eyes before they caught sight of Loki’s kneeling form, looking at you with a soft yet still, unreadable expression.

‘’how wet darling?”

His whisper came out clear and yet you still questioned if you heard him correctly. this god was a man of mystery and wondered if he was insinuating an innuendo or the literal state you were in.

‘’..m-my prince?”

His thumb rested with his finger, pinching your chin by having to repeat himself with sharp eyes and yet his voice still remained so soft. ‘’just how wet are you darling?”

You weren’t sure why your cheeks were red, tightening your arms around yourself while you tried to convince yourself you were meaning literal while you drew a breath. ‘’a little..’’

‘’soaked?” he asked, almost to quickly with the thrill in his voice that seemed to startle you.

‘’d-dripping my prince..’’ you whispered, feeling his hand leave your chin to run gently against your cheek before his fingers found themselves in your hair.

Granted you weren’t to bad, the temperature having somehow returned to normal and yet still you shivered. Especially when his eyes began to travel down to your covered form, making you shiver even more while he tilted your head back to expose your neck.

‘’cold darling? you cannot hide it from me..’’ he smirked, whispering against your skin while his lips rested against your cheek before ghosting the tip of his nose down to caress your neck.

‘’it’s f-freezing in here..’’ you tried not to whine, feeling your thighs press together while your mind fought between the growing pleasure and reality.

‘’I know, I made it that way..’’ he smirked and your eyes blinked at him while you bit your bottom lip.

‘’h-how- why..’’ you began but the tightening in your hair made you squeak, not to painful but enough for wanting strangely.. more.

‘’so I could have you just this way for me.. deliciously perky if I may add’’ he smirked and his eyes flicked to yours. You couldn’t even move your head but tightened your arm across your chest just encase by his comment. ‘’I knew you wouldn’t be able to find a solution and couldn’t pass up the chance to have you present yourself kneeling and naked.’’ He then chuckled. ‘’I so much prefer seeing you like this whenever I enter, perhaps I’ll have you do just that.’’ He smirked before releasing your hair and getting up.

Your hand left your intimate area to land in front of you so you couldn’t face plant the floor, now on your knees and palm while you quickly sat back in position and covered yourself while you watched him walk away. He was cruel.. he wanted you humiliated, red cheeked and submitting to him.. bastard.. gorgeous.. gorgeous bastard..

‘’come here darling,’’ he said and tossed the towels aside- looking dry to the bone before your very eyes and they widened at the sight of his backside while he pulled the covers back for him to get in. ‘’your punishment is over.’’

‘’..my punishment?” you blinked and felt yourself shiver while he slide into bed, sat up and arms crossed while he looked at you.

‘’I can’t have you chattering all night. Come here.’’ He said more firmly and your cheeks reddened while you bit your bottom lip.

Was freezing your punishment? Or the more humiliation that came out of it.. either way, you wanted to end both. Right now, you were guessing he wanted you on the other side of the bed, sliding in and quite frankly, the warmth of the heavy blankets was enough argument to have you trying to pull up enough courage to stand up.

‘’do not be bashful darling, it is nothing I haven’t seen before.’’

‘’m-most of me was under water..’’ you reminded him and stood yourself up, awkwardly covering yourself while you made your way quickly to the bed and got under the covers, knowing he had to have seen everything in that swift motion but the heat under the blankets made you forget the embarrassment for a moment.

‘’is that so?”

His hinting made you look over at him and question your own sanity. ..he wasn’t present when you got in the tub right? He only saw your chest.. unless he was referring to another moment- none you could recall before you began to get stalker vibes all over again. His slender hand took hold of your wrist, making you flinch at the sudden movement before you felt yourself sliding towards him until both his arms wrapped around you.

‘’you think too much.’’ He reminded while your eyes widened and felt yourself being turned around until his chest was being pressed up against your back and something hard pressing against your ass.

You weren’t stupid and felt your heart rate up but his arms just held you against him while his nose buried itself in your hair. Oh gods.. was this it? Was he going to-

‘’relax..’’ he whispered and still didn’t move.

His slow breathing became steadier and you half debated on if he was asleep or not. You didn’t dare move, but nor did you feel him move other than a few twitches here and there from his.. ya know..

No sex? Just some cruel cold torment and that was enough for him to fall asleep like a baby? You couldn’t go to sleep immediately, laying there in wait for the trick to appear, the surprise, the gotchu moment, but it never came. Eventually your waiting lengthened to the point where your eyes indeed began getting heavy, and felt yourself falling asleep soon after he was felt nuzzling impossibly closer.

TAG LIST IS OPEN JUST LET ME KNOW

Tag List: @comehomecomehometous @trash-panda-kitty @kuroturo @lovinglimerence @kathren1sky-blog @soulpiercing @ildflue-17 @navs-bhat @ririsasaki @allbymyself17 @howl-and-midna-smeltser

[softness-and-shattering]

Seeing a post thats making me angry: ahh how do I disagree in a way that isnt confrontational and might help them see my point is there any point ahhhhh ummmm noticing that the post is from following a tag, not a mutual: oh fuck that, they can be wrong. 

[tiddygame]

ok look, my meds are making me feel Funky again but…

after soap is released from the hospital, he moves back in with his parents, everything already having been taken care of.

ghost moves in as well, but it’s a much slower and much more gradual affair.

sure, simon spent every second he could at johnnys side, but he still didn’t live there or anything. and he didn’t intend to leave his stuff behind, but he was called in for an emergency and didn’t have time to brush his teeth, much less gather his things.

and he was going to take his stuff back to his flat, but mrs. mactavish insisted that it wasn’t a problem and that it might be easier for him to just leave some stuff there for when it happens again.

and since johnny is… well… unwell, it might be a good idea to change his emergency contact too. and of course mrs and mr mactavish are more than happy to take care of it!

simon doesn’t even stop by his flat any more when he’s on leave, heading straight to the mactavish house as soon as he’s cut loose

johnny is getting better, slowly but surely. there are a lot of steps back and some days are a lot worse than others, but simon breaking several laws just to call him when he’s on a mission is a nice reminder that no, simon didn’t leave him, and is actively fighting to get discharged so they can be together.

johnny mentioned that sometimes listening to simon’s voice is the only thing that helps him sleep, so simon leaves voicemail after voicemail so that even when he can’t properly call him, he can still talk to johnny

.

mrs mactavish had been doing the laundry when they knock on the front door. she knew what it meant when the officers apologize as they remove their hats with a sorrowful look.

she was borderline hysterical, refusing to believe it. mr. mactavish tried to console her, but he wasn’t doing too great either.

they don’t know what to tell johnny. they can’t tell him. how could they? he was finally getting better and now they’re expected to tell him that those voicemails from simon are the only thing he has left?

they consider waiting until the funeral arrangements are being discussed, but they knew it wouldn’t end well. they figure brutal honesty was better than the betrayal he’d feel if they tried to keep it from him.

when they m tell him, he just laughs and says he’ll believe it when they recover the body.

his parents sigh, and nod. they figure it’s best to leave him be, at least until the funeral.

but lo and behold, barely a week later, simon appears on their porch late one night with his arm in a sling.

he was grumbling that being caught in a building collapse and missing exfil shouldnt be enough for him to be assumed dead, but is cut off when mrs mactavish hugs him.

he was surprised, just apologizing for making them deal with the whole dead/undead thing, but she was still crying and refusing to let him go.

he didn’t know what to do and just awkwardly returned the hug with one arm, patting her back as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening

it wasn’t until mr. mactavish pulled him into a hug as well, muttering something about how he’s glad simon is safe, calling him son, that he breaks.

he hadn’t had a family in so long and he doesn’t know what to do. but mrs mactavish does, saying that he must be hungry and getting him something to eat.

johnny just laughs, both at his parents for assuming he was wrong about the body recovery thing, and at simon for taking that long to realize that he’d been abducted adopted by the mactavish family, telling simon that his fate had been sealed the first time johnny brought him home

[nicverse]

gates

just two fools loving each other. jason todd x fem!reader warnings: mention of blood, wounds and bullets.

ノㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤׅㅤㅤ✩ㅤㅤ˚ ♡

ㅤㅤׅ ㅤㅤㅤ𝅄ㅤㅤ꒪ㅤㅤ꒱ㅤ

Yes, sometimes he was a bit of a pain in the ass but you could never say you didn’t love him. He was trouble from the moment he stepped in your life, but the heart wants what it wants, and you opened your door for him every night so willingly. 

The more you denied your feelings, the harder it was to breathe without him. With Jason, you felt like your heart finally belonged to someone who appreciated it, he entered your soul and life without noticing, took you in his hands and guarded you as if you were his most precious treasure. 

The sins he committed every night were forgotten when he gave you his smile, a simple trace of happiness in his eyes wherever you were around him. Gotham was a cruel city but just the thought of living there without him made your heart race with desperation.

You would follow him anywhere. Jason never said it, but he would follow you too. He would take a hundred bullets for you if it meant keeping you safe —keeping you with him. He never thought he would need someone so much, but now every war he fought was for you, and every punch he threw was to keep the evil of the world away from you. 

You were complaining about another one of your coworkers while you cooked dinner. Jason loved listening to you, but he couldn’t help but admire the way you looked. It felt so oddly domestic. His arms resting in the kitchen aisle as you were too focused on your own thing, just talking about your day in your comfy clothes— a sight he wished he could wake up to every morning.�� 

“I know I shouldn't be thinking about murdering someone but this asshole makes me reconsider it,” you said, your eyes pinned on the food “I told you I could take care of him” Jason suggested, you shook your head quickly, turning to point him with your finger.

“No Jason, you can’t blackmail my coworker. I’ll deal with it myself” he chuckled with a roll of his eyes. You always insisted on taking care of things by yourself, too stubborn to let him make your life easier in his own ways. “What's the fun in that, princess?” you rolled your eyes, too used to his nicknames now. 

You secretly loved them. It made things special between you too, an unspoken agreement of intimacy. 

“Let me remind you, the last time I let you deal with something for me, you ended up with a bullet in your arm” you turned to face him, arms crossed in front of your chest. Jason smiled, nodding his head before speaking again. Your mind went back to your bloody bathroom, hands desperately trying to remove the bullet without killing him but he was smiling the whole time. 

Jason knew he would be fine with you. He decided to open his gates to his favorite angel: you. He let your hands run across his scarred chest and heal his wounds so tenderly, longing for the warmth of your fingers across his skin as you scolded him for being so selfless and impulsive... And Jason? He couldn't care less about your complains because he would repeat it over and over just to feel your hands in his body.

“I know, I would do it again just for you.”

—another one from my jason x journalist!reader. i'm writing the first chapter now but until i decide publish it i'll be updating you guys with these small interactions.

—i'm accepting requests now! i'd love to make yours <3

[frudoo]

Mmmm unethical ER Doctor!Gaz…

Warnings: Fingering, edging, medical malpractice, inappropriate doctor/patient relations. Fem!Reader.

Your toes curl as you swing your legs off the side of the exam table, fingers tapping against your thighs nervously. It took forever for you to get called back, and it seems even longer, now, that you’ve had to wait on the actual doctor to show up. The bright fluorescent lights have started to make your head pound. Biting your lip, you debate on just leaving to try and deal with this… issue on your own again. The very issue that made you seek out help to begin with.

The paper sheet beneath you crinkles as you hop down, cursing yourself for wasting your own precious time. You grab your purse and open the privacy curtain to leave, effectively running into the doctor who had finally showed up. You’re not usually one to bitch and moan to people who are only here to help you, but you’ve been waiting for over an hour and you are in agony, damn it. For the first time in your life, you prepare to chew out a person you don’t even know, sucking in a deep breath.

“About time you… showed… up…” Your mouth drops open when you actually glance up to get a good look at the doctor’s face, immediately feeling your heart drop down to your stomach.

Towering over you with a cocked eyebrow and a cheeky smile is the most gorgeous person you have ever seen in your life. Flawlessly smooth skin and deep brown eyes, maddeningly straight teeth and a perfectly kissable nose. You find it impossible to tear your eyes from his luscious lips, entranced and frozen in place.

“Righ’. Sorry ‘bout tha’ wait. Would ya mind havin’ a seat up there f’me?” He hums, and fuck, even his voice is delicious.

“I- um- I’m so sorry,” you mumble, scrambling back to sit on the exam table once again.

“No’ to worry. I’ve dealt with far worse attitudes than yours,” he teases, and you curl your fingers into the hem of your skirt. “I’m Dr. Garrick, yeah? Says here your problem is… oh. Oh, my.”

You’re mentally cursing yourself. You could literally die right here and the only thing they’d put on your gravestone is ‘idiot.’ A very horny, very broke idiot.

“Yeah,” you tuck your lips into a tight line, humiliation evident in the way your entire body is trembling.

“Alrigh’. I can have a female come in t’do this if you’re more comfortable-”

“No! P-please, I just want it out,” you plead, nearly in tears at the thought of having to wait any longer.

“Hey, hey, tha’s fine,” he soothes. “Go ‘head and remove your bottoms f’me, I’m gonna step outside t’give ya some privacy.”

Dr. Garrick does as he said he would, closing the curtain behind him. With a shaky sigh, you remove your skirt and panties and set them aside, laying back on the table with your feet flat on the surface, knees bent and pressed together. After a few moments, the curtain slides open and the doctor steps back inside, clearing his throat softly.

“I’m jus’ gonna place your feet in some stirrups, alrigh’? It’ll be easier f’me, and hopefully more comfortable f’ya,” he explains, plopping onto his chair and rolling towards the table.

In the cubbies below you, there’s a contraption that pulls out to act as stirrups, and Dr. Garrick helps you guide your ankles onto them carefully. He then drapes a paper slip over your bottom half, giving you a false sense of security given what he’s about to do. You take a deep breath when you hear him go to wash his hands, wishing you were just about anywhere else but here. The seat puffs again and you flinch when you hear him snap on a pair of sterile gloves. Fucking hell. This is getting too real.

“Gonna have a look, now,” he says softly, placing two gloved fingers at your entrance.

Cautiously, he pulls your outer labia open in an attempt to find the object lodged inside of you. Shaking his head, he sighs.

“Can’t see it from out here. Gonna have to push inside,” he explains, gently pressing his middle finger inside of your pussy and feeling around. “Y’know, there are safer options than a hairbrush. I would recommend investin’ in a genuine sex toy, preferably with some kinda base at the bottom.”

“Noted,” you grit your teeth, biting back a moan when he inserts another gloved digit.

You’re already sensitive from having the broken hairbrush handle stuck inside you for over two hours now, and the way his fingers are stretching you out and rubbing against your walls is nothing short of overstimulating. With your eyes squeezed tightly shut, you don’t notice the way your doctor smirks, but you sure as hell feel the way his digits brush against your g-spot.

“Ah, I feel it, now,” he murmurs, curling his fingers to hit that bundle of nerves again.

You don’t expect him to shove his fingers in further, nor the way he speeds up, rapidly massaging your sweet spot. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your throat, your back arching uncomfortably, ankles slipping in the stirrups.

“Sorry, I know it’s sensitive,” he says, but there is no sympathy in his tone.

Dr. Garrick rests the pad of his thumb on your clit and circles it tightly, muttering something about needing stability to help him pull the object out. You bite your lip, thighs already trembling as you curse yourself for getting off from this. You simply can’t help it—a pretty man knuckles deep in your pussy, hitting all the right places flawlessly. You’re right on the edge when he pulls his fingers out, popping the hairbrush handle out with them.

“Got it,” he smiles proudly, and if tears weren’t blurring your vision, you might have seen the smug glint in his eye because he knows he ruined your orgasm.

You hear a clank and then the snap of his gloves being pulled off. A weary sob escapes your throat at the newfound emptiness, your cunt clenching around nothing and your swollen clit still throbbing. Dr. Garrick helps your feet back down from the stirrups, watching the way you just lay there limp. He sniffs, hovering over your body and leaning in close to your face.

“Y’know, if ya don’t want a toy, ya can always give me a call. I won’t keep ya waitin’ next time.”

[dogwithrabies]

【★】 gn reader but described as afab, slight? sadomasochism themes, scara and reader match each other's freak somehow, not proofread I'll correct mistakes later (maybe)

【☆】 part 2 of this I will never settle on just one interpretation of scara i'm gonna keep flip flopping abt him…..

word count 3.7k

You made it out of the office.

It’s been a few weeks since the last encounter with the Balladeer, since he so kindly let you go with an invitation for next time. The walk back to your private headquarters wasn’t as humiliating as one would think, but the way your step had a little happy hop to it made a few heads turn.

Even the guards at the door's entrance shared a glance, it truly is unusual to make it out alive.

After your visit to his office, everything seemed easier, the amount of physical work you had to do greatly diminished, but all this newfound free time is somehow, always spent in the workplace. The moment you finished your tasks for the day you’d get called in his private headquarters. And most of the time you’d be doing nothing for the whole duration of your stay.

There was a couch next to his desk that you’d sit on and watch him work. Sometimes he’d even grace you with the opportunity to sit near him (he was surprised when you immediately decided to sit on the floor between his legs, but he doesn’t mind as long as you don’t hinder his work). Sometimes, people would walk in, completely clueless of your presence, which spooked you at first, but then quickly made way for other fantasies. You could suck him off in front of your fellow soldiers and they’d have no idea, and you wouldn’t mind even if they managed to catch you. But you’ve still got to figure out some things first.

As much as you’d love to throw yourself at him, the line between what he deems acceptable and not is still thin and almost invisible to you, it’s like walking around eggshells, constantly pushing your luck whenever you make a move or try something new. You’ve been scouting his boundaries and limits, and so far you’ve learned that:

He doesn’t mind physical touch when he initiates it (or when he feels like you’re revering him enough). Sitting at his feet and squishing his legs on the sides of your face also allowed you to feel his structure and constitution. His legs were as soft as you remember, but the skin around his kneecaps had a little dent, almost like the bones under it were disconnected, segmented. They also felt robust, like he could cave your face in with a single kick. And yet they were so dainty and looked so fragile, and thinking about it makes you go a bit crazy.

And lastly, he never takes off the bands around his wrists, even when he removes the armor there’s another layer of cloth covering them.

This isn’t much information, but he’s not keen on entertaining your questions when working (and you think he wouldn’t like the idea of having his whole being analyzed so clinically).

So you stick to keeping yourself entertained, whether it be catching up on lost hours of sleep on the couch or thirsting over his legs like an old perverted man.

You quickly start to realize that your stay in his office is a double edged sword, you got to overhear a lot of sensitive information you shouldn’t have access to. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it, he knows you know the consequences of any of this getting leaked. It’s almost like he’s pushing you even deeper in the dealings of the fatui, you had no plans to leave, but now, knowing what you know, it was completely impossible. The less logical part of your brain is almost tempted to try and escape, just to get him to punish you. But it probably wouldn’t stop at that, he’d have to ensure that what you heard in this room, stays in this room, and he’d probably have to put you out of commission, permanently. You imagine him choking you, he’d look so pretty above you, but it also would be too much work (not that you’d put up any resistance), he’d probably just shock you to death. It’s significantly less personal but you’d still take it.

You’re completely caged, and it’s all his doing. 

You huff against the skin of his leg. It sure is a bore, to be so close to what you want but unable to get it. Your hands slide under both his knees to squeeze his legs at the sides of your face.

Above, you can hear the sound of papers being moved around. So he’s still not done, you think to yourself as you wiggle out of the tight space under his desk and move to the couch. 

Why does he insist on keeping you around if he’s just going to ignore you?

You lay on your side and kick your shoes off (he scolded you last time you kept them on) and turn around to look at him.

He doesn’t even look at you, the loss of your presence is irrelevant and goes unnoticed.

He can feel your eyes boring holes through him, he knows you’re bored by how restless you’re acting. He has half a mind to reprimand you, you should be honored he’s allowing you to spend time in his presence, and yet you have the gall to act bored.

Can’t you see all the favors he’s doing you? Reliving you of your work, taking away most of your responsibilities so you can spend more time with him, you ought to be on your knees thanking him. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that he is also stripping you of your agency, he knows of humans’ fixation with being independent, they can be hard workers, he’ll give them that. This intrinsic feeling isn’t as different from his own need to be useful. The need to be needed. But it’s different, to him, he’s long abandoned his flimsy childish desire to become a human, he knows he is destined for things far greater than any human could ever stride for.

But alas, humans are simple minded creatures, truly inferior to him in any category, they could never hope to grasp the grandiosity of his divine being. 

So he shall give you a pass, and a treat to keep you entertained and docile.

So he puts away the stack of papers on his desk, the action catching your attention, eyeing him as he makes his way to you, as he sits next to you.

“My lord,” you address him as you push yourself up and make more room for him.

“Come here,” he motions with his hand, “Don’t waste my time,” he adds when he sees you hesitating.

You shuffle closer to him, it’s stupid to be this careful now when you’ve spent the last few days squishing yourself in his personal space. Maybe it’s the fact that this is new, he never prioritizes you over his work, only indulging you after he’s done.

 So you feel like a fish out of water.

But if one could read minds- you could have sensed the shift in his energy, or perhaps at least brace yourself for the moment his hand roughly grabs at your hair, bringing you closer to him and exposing your pristine neck.

He lets out an amused huff, and it’s all the warning you get before he pulls you even closer, forcing you to awkwardly hoist yourself up over his lower body. His mouth is warm on your skin, but it’s not those soft lips that you so much adore that make contact, instead, it’s a wet, nasty bite like he’s trying to rip you apart, make you bleed, and some more. 

But he doesn’t linger on just one spot, letting his mouth wander, leaving a trail of what will surely darken and bloom into ugly sore marks. Every time his teeth sink in a yelp threatens to leave your lips- and he thinks it’s funny, the way your eyes squeeze and lips purse trying to silence yourself. 

But no matter how strong willed you are, he will find a way to break you, too.

And he gives you a moment of reprise, as he admires his work. Nothing that your uniform wouldn’t cover, but it’s his ego talking when he riles himself up with the thought that only he can mark you, not the other way around. 

You’re convinced he would’ve just straight up eaten you up had he spent just a few more minutes gnawing at your neck. A rational part of your brain is urging your muscles to move, do something, to get out of this situation, but it’s so quickly drowned by another flow of thoughts. You wouldn't mind if he chose to consume you, in any way he prefers.

He latches once again on your skin, the front of your neck this time, biting and sucking until the skin swells around the hard grip of his teeth. And this time, you don’t have it in you to stop yourself from whining, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. And he finally seems satisfied by your reaction, pulling you closer to his face, admiring your distressed expression. 

The way your eyebrows furrow together, tears blocking your view as you try to squint them away, desperately trying to get a look at him. You’ve never been this close to him, face to face. He exhales and his breath fans over your face, and it just feels empty. Like an ordinary gust of wind, prive of any trace of the usual warmth any other human would possess.

But you’re not given any moment to dwell on the thought, his other hand grips your face and brings it closer to his, for a moment you expect the sting of another bite, but you’re met with a sensation that leaves your head swooning. The warmth of your tears is replaced by a soothing kiss, and another, and another, and soon the wet sensation is replaced by another equally wet feeling, the pressure of his tongue licking up the trails the tears left.

He doesn’t miss the very apparent blush creeping up your face, chuckling to himself before picking you up with an inhumane amount of strength and repositioning himself. Now he’s above you, again so so close, with wide eyes observing every inch of your face, drinking in your ruined expression.

The glutton that he is, looking is never enough and he can’t keep his hands to himself, off of pretty things. 

So he lunges forward, and your mind blanks the moment his lips cage yours. It’s everything but kind and soft, his teeth immediately nib at your lower lip, tongue forcing itself inside, licking at your mouth.

It takes you a second to register the new feeling, your body melts into it and you don’t have the will (nor want) to fight it. He’s so rough, not giving you a chance to get used to the rhythm, he seems so intent on letting you participate in whatever he is planning to do.

Something quickly dawns on you, sucking any sound you emit straight from the source, it’s filthy and messy and he doesn’t relent even when your hands desperately push him away, trying to put some distance between the two of you, trying to get even a gasp of air.

He laughs softly against you, sensing your struggle, but still not showing any sign of mercy, if anything it just spurs him on, grabbing the sides of your face to push you against him. He shifts his body, actively laying on you, caging you with his full weight.

He’s half hard in his shorts, you can feel his length throbbing with each slight movement of his hips, grinding himself on you. But still, his grip on you doesn’t relent, he can feel you slowing your movements, resisting less and less while still struggling for even a gasp of air.

You think he’d be content with smothering you with his lips (and what a way to go that would be), but then he suddenly pulls away, a wet string of saliva connecting your mouths. You’re panting under him, desperately trying to catch your breath as he busies himself with lapping away whatever glob of tears dares form in your eyes.

He stands unnaturally still above you, watching you gasp over and over until it slowly dies down and fades into a slightly more labored breathing. With a normal amount of oxygen flowing to your brain you also start to regain awareness of your position.

You can feel him twitching and grinding against you, despite all the layers of clothing. 

His gaze on you remains unwavering as his hands move to unclip all those annoying buttons, unclasping every single one until he can take off your coat, and you let him, body almost limp as he slides it off you.

“Don’t tell me you’re already gone, I was just starting to have fun,” he murmurs against your neck, gently nibbling on it this time.

All you can muster is a small mh-hm, it’s enough confirmation to asses that you are still conscious (and alive).

He makes you the favor of getting off your chest, moving your limbs out of the way so he can settle between your legs, ridding you of your remaining clothing. Despite being in his office, the air is still relatively chill, the moment you’re fully exposed a shiver runs down your spine as you adjust to the new temperature.

He, on the other hand, is busying himself with manhandling you, pushing you further up the side of the couch, and letting your head rest on the side arm. 

“You’re awfully wet,” he says once he’s satisfied with this new position, “a bit of kissing is enough to get you this turned on?” you can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks. You could say the same about him, his erection is VERY hard to ignore and he’s so hard it almost looks painful. You want to reach out and touch him, stroke him to completion as he comes undone over you, but he’s faster and you can just watch as he lowers his shorts just enough to free his dick.

“Surely you won’t mind if we skip preparations. You seem ready enough.” you immediately feel him nudging your folds, slowly rubbing himself, his tip bumping on your clit as he shifts higher.

“I don't mind-” he uses his finger to apply more pressure, “I want you inside me. Please.” “How bold, How can I say no to that?” His hands move to your hips as he holds you in position, his tip sinks into you and he wastes no time pushing in the rest, too.

You make a sound as you throw your head back, the sudden feeling of being so full overtakes you. You can feel him throbbing inside you and it’s driving you insane- alongside his little huffs above you- you could come just about now.

You feel him pull back slightly before pushing back in, slowly at first, and then picking up speed once he’s found a satisfying rhythm. The stretch is still a bit uncomfortable, but you’re so wet you’re leaking against his pelvis and the front of his shorts. 

“So tight,” he bends lower so his mouth is directly next to your ear, “it’s like you’re sucking me in.” All you can do is moan into his shoulder, sliding your arms under his so you can hold him closer to you. He takes it as an invitation, pushing himself impossibly close to you, picking up his ministrations on your neck again.

He’s not as heavy as you expected him to be, you can still comfortably breathe with his weight on you, and with how close he is to you, you can feel his pelvis rut against your clit with each shift of his hips.

His teeth sink into you again, he stills there and he sucks on the spot until it darkens. There isn’t a single spot he hasn’t sucked or bitten, the whole zone feels so raw.

“I knew it,” he mumbles into your neck, “You bruise so beautifully,” he says while looking at you.

It shouldn’t turn you on this much. That’s not a normal thing to say to anybody, however. He feels you clench on him as your hips roll into him, tiny mewls spilling from your lips as you chase your high. 

“F-fuck, fuck- please-” It’s muffled but he can still hear you and it only spurs him on. 

“Please what? Please fuck me faster? Harder?” He says in a mocking tone. You want to answer him but you don’t even know what you’re begging for. With every thrust, your brain melts a little, and you find yourself pathetically moaning under him.

Your grip tightens on his back as you grow rigid under him- it’s a surge of warmth that passes through your body so suddenly, leaving you gasping under him. It’s even wetter now, his dick is practically sliding out of you as he fucks you through your climax.

“How cute,” he muses. “That fast?” He stills his movements and lifts himself up once he feels you limp.

Your brain is buzzing as you recover, lust still clouding your mind. His cold hands a juxtaposition to your warm body, he pushes your legs up and higher, the angle making the back of your knees burn uncomfortably

“I hope you don’t think we are done yet, I intend to have my pleasure too.” 

He resumes his thrusts, harder this time. His tip reaching the deepest part of you, so rough it’s like he’s trying to push even deeper. He’s just using you for his pleasure now, fucking you like you’re just an object for his pleasure, a toy to fuck and fill up until he’s satisfied.

He applies more pressure to your knees, squashing them against your upper body. His cock catches against a spot, softer in texture than the rest, and you gasp.

“Good?” He asks, already knowing the answer, but he takes enjoyment in the way you mindlessly nod in response.

“A-again, please.” He twitches, and obliges your request, angling himself to hit that spot with every thrust, and his ears are immediately graced with the sound of your sweet whimpering.

Your hands flail around, before settling on gripping the cushions under you. You miss his back, his presence against you, the bits of hair tickling your hands whenever he lifted his head. But you’re not gonna complain, not when he’s pummeling into your cunt like he intends to break you. Matter of fact, you can hardly form any thought that isn’t just mindless blabbering.

He curses, as he moves one hand to shove his shorts lower, exposing more of himself, every time he pushes into you now there’s an audible plap of skin against skin contact. It’s impossible to ignore, and you’re sure whoever’s passing by his office must hear what’s going on inside (if your moaning didn’t give you away already).

But he doesn’t care, the way you clench against him every time he slides over that spot, the surge of liquid leaking on him as he fucks himself deeper inside you, it’s too good to stop. 

Your pleasure comes after his, but archons does he want more of you. He repositions you roughly, hoisting one of your legs up as his other hand busies itself with rubbing your clit.

It’s messy and he’s applying a bit too much pressure, but the effect is immediate and you couldn’t care less. Your stomach tightens as a burning feeling intensifies, he talks you through it and it only intensifies the feeling.

“Oh? Are you close again?” he taunts you, but it’s affecting him too and it shows in the way his movements get more desperate.

“Then do it, come for me, come for me again,” and it’s embarrassing how you can do nothing but obey him, clenching around him as you spasm and flutter around him. Your free leg squeezes his side,, your back arches and he huffs. But he doesn’t give you time to rest this time, he ruts in you, leaning on you, even as the pleasure turns into overstimulation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He sounds raspier, almost winded. He’s close and the thought is almost enough to make you come again.

With one pointed thrust, he pushes himself impossibly deep and stays there. And then, it washes over him, as he fills you up in waves and waves of his seed.

He lets go of your leg and leans back, his cock slipping out of you.

You feel so empty without him, and the feeling of his come slipping out of you doesn’t help. He watches your fingers as they make their way to collect whatever spilled out of you to push it back in, slightly shivering everytime you brush up against a sensitive spot.

Are you trying to rile him up again? He laughs at the thought.

“So insatiable,” his voice catches your attention, “let me help you,” he says.

There truly is no end to his greed, all he knows is to take. And it’s what he’s planning to do now, too.

You want to question him but the thought quickly dies on your tongue when you feel him penetrating you again. Your insides accommodate him with no resistance this time, but you can’t help but notice that he’s still hard.

“...no refractory period?” you think out loud. He hums in amusement.

“So you do have a brain, here I was thinking all you could do is think about my dick.”

You bite the side of your cheek, “Well, you’re not wrong. But…”

He twitches at your admission.

“I couldn’t help but notice some things.” 

“Like?”

“You just seem so different.”, his gaze hardens for a moment and you hurry the next part of the sentence out, “Not in a bad way! It’s just… you’re stronger, faster, and prettier than anyone I've ever met”.

He doesn’t respond, inviting you to elaborate.

You don’t mention the rumors going around, not that they’re reliable, coming from another Harbinger’s subordinates, but every lie has a base of truth to it.

“There are other details, but the whole picture got me thinking…” Your voice dies down as you momentarily sink back into your thoughts.

“So what, you want an answer from me?” You don’t respond, focusing on how his tone has shifted into something more malicious, and how his hips started slowly moving again.

“Too cock-drunk to think?” He muses to himself. “That’s fine. Maybe you’ll figure it out one day.”

His cock rolls into your walls, pushing little gasps out of you.

“But for now, I’m gonna make good use of you.”

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post

I’m starting to feel people don’t understand what espionage truly means. I recently came across this post that said Tamlin was never a double agent and was only playing the good guy to save himself, and there was a list supporting the claim. So, here we go.

Fair warning: this is needlessly elaborate, includes many tangents and requires thinking from perspectives outside of the explicit narrative.

Before we begin, let’s get one thing clear, just because Night flaunts Azriel as their spymaster, it doesn’t mean that’s how spies operate. Revealing their identity risks compromising future missions and the people close to them. IRL spies lead double lives for decades for this very reason and only a select few are trusted with the knowledge depending on who they report to or who serve as their getaway.

‘Even Lucien was in the dark.’ Dagdan and Brannagh are daemati. Involving more people in the plan means more sources for the twins to exploit and more possible leverage for Hybern. Lucien could be held captive or threatened with death to force Tamlin into furthering the war. Their friendship was taken advantage of by Amarantha twice before. It isn’t a matter of trust but of protection, the way Feyre isn’t involved either. Besides, if Tamlin is compromised and found plotting against Hybern, the first step would be to check Lucien’s mind, leaving with no one in power to protect Spring.

‘Tamlin let Hybern settle in Spring.’ Tamlin grants access to a troop to survey the Wall, which is different from allowing a whole army into his territory. With his defences intact, he still has the upper hand. Managing and controlling the movements of a troop within his borders is much easier than stopping an army, which is exactly what Lucien does—accompanying Jurian and the twins to the Wall. It is after Feyre destroys Spring that they are left vulnerable, allowing the rest of the Hybern’s army camp there. Moreover, denying access to his lands would be suspicious, not letting them inspect the Wall would be suspicious. It is part of the act, playing a willing participant in upholding his end of the deal.

‘Tamlin didn’t warn the other courts.’ After Amarantha’s reign, while the other High Lords are rebuilding their courts and making allies, Tamlin is invested in freeing Feyre from her bargain. Among the six courts, one is Spring’s enemy for harbouring Lucien, one steals Feyre every month, and two are fairly new High Lords Tamlin doesn’t know. And if Night’s visit to Summer is common knowledge, Tarquin ‘allows’ Rhysand to parade Feyre again after witnessing everything Under the Mountain. Clearly, Tamlin doesn’t know who to trust.

Considering he chooses to warn them, a ‘Hey, Hybern is coming for us all’ isn’t useful enough when it’s already expected after Amarantha’s reign. In fact, it would have encouraged Hybern to act before the courts could recuperate or even unleash the Cauldron in whatever capacity. This is evidenced by the attack on Velaris when they attempted to gain the mortal Queens on their side. Hybern has been amassing armies for years, centuries even. In order to win, Prythian needs more than a ‘warning’ which Tamlin manages to obtain.

Moreover, the battle of Adriata occurs right after Feyre returns to Night (iirc a week or two). Since Spring is in tatters, Tamlin isn’t in a position to help anyone, especially as Hybern attacks from the seas and not Spring lands. Also, his emissary, Lucien, and every other powerful player on his side are removed from the board.

Besides, who would believe his words when not long ago he was running around like a depraved lunatic to save the woman he loves, and none of them cared? Who would believe it’s more than his paranoia or even a ploy to get her back without concrete proof?

‘Spring was already broken.’ From the beginning, it is clear that Tamlin has his people’s loyalty. His sentries beg to be sacrificed to free him from the curse. When the lands grow dangerous with not many left to defend it, the people flee. After the curse is broken, they all return—one of them being Alis. Despite the reduced population, with Amarantha’s cronies still at large and creatures roaming wild, Spring is recovering and the people are happy. Feyre herself notes how content they are to be in Tamlin’s presence.

When Feyre is kidnapped, Tamlin kills the sentries on guard, which is meant to turn everyone against him. But it’s not that simple. Feyre would have officially become Lady of Spring if she weren’t ‘stolen’ during the wedding. The sentries are entrusted to protect their Lady—whom they love and respect. They are aware of the bargain. They are aware Feyre was killed once. They are aware Feyre is a target—as an asset or Tamlin’s weakness. It is under their watch that she is taken from their home. When they couldn’t even stop his third-in-command from walking in, disarming everyone, and carrying Feyre away, how are they expected to protect her from the most powerful High Lord of Prythian?

And, Rhysand is not just an enemy of Tamlin. He has been the villain of Prythian for five centuries and possesses powers to twist someone’s mind. One outburst from Tamlin isn’t enough to make him a monster in the eyes of his sentries when Feyre is now Rhysand’s hostage. The people didn’t abandon Spring when Tamlin made a deal with Hybern because they knew there was no one to help them.

Everything that happens after Tamlin, Feyre and Lucien return from Hybern’s castle is a calculated move. Feyre admits that it is her goal to destroy everything Tamlin has, including his court and people. She never opens up about how she’s treated in Night, even during the one-week stays. Later, she accuses Rhysand of raping her over the past months and tricking her with the fake mating bond. She even takes the dramatic route with ‘if you peer into the darkness long enough, the darkness peers back’ (paraphrased) saying this to Lucien. There is no reason for anyone to doubt Tamlin’s actions when Feyre proves every one of their fears true.

Feyre doesn’t stop there. She exploits the people’s faith in her and manipulates them. During the Summer Solstice, she positions herself as more valuable and blessed than the people already claim her to be. With these new beliefs she creates, she becomes a bigger prize for the likes of Rhysand, Beron, and even Hybern. She constantly interrupts the conversations and corners Tamlin into decisions that are less than ideal, which he complies with to put on a united front. She exploits Tamlin’s trauma, abuses him, and pushes him to a breakdown in order to play his victim. She knows of Ianthe’s plans and lets the nagas attack using that to her advantage.

The lashings are pivotal in revealing who Tamlin is to the people, but there is a flaw in the narrative. Feyre was stolen from the mansion more than once. Rhysand and Morrigan proved that the mansion is not safe enough. Now, it is not even guarded against a few nagas and the sentry loses the keys after falling asleep? This is a question of their competence and loyalty. Even then, Tamlin waits till the morning to execute the punishment and Feyre controls the sentry’s memories until the very last minute, ensuring Tamlin has little chance to back out. She twists the scenario as Tamlin’s cruelty, when it is a High Lord’s home breached and their enemies are on their lands. Feyre exploits Tamlin’s fears, pushing him to take drastic measures and playing the saint who expected him to prove his goodness. If she cared so much about the sentry, why didn’t she force Ianthe to confess? Ultimately, she goes as far as manipulating them into believing that Tamlin let the twins hunt her. She breaks their trust in their High Lord. Everything Feyre does or says is a lie until Tamlin cracks (if you want to draw parallels, it’s exactly what Rhysand claims to have done Under the Mountain).

This is often ignored or used as proof of Tamlin’s failings. But, Alis leaves Spring because she knows that Hybern is not the only threat. Though she doesn’t hate or blame Feyre, she understands that soon Spring will fall because of her and Night.

So no, Spring was not broken. It was more put together than Night, where Rhysand has to threaten one half of his army and buy the loyalty of the other with false promises. Spring is loyal to their High Lord and their court until Feyre manipulates them. She admits to ‘priming Spring to fall’ and ‘baiting Tamlin’. She even wants to take over Spring with Night’s army after she destroys it. She is the reason for their downfall, not Tamlin, who is stuck in a no-win situation with everyone working against him—Ianthe, Feyre, Hybern, and even Lucien after a point.

The real question: Why is Night not held accountable for Hybern’s invasion, but Tamlin is?

Rhysand is aware of Hybern’s movements long before Tamlin makes the deal. He doesn’t trust other courts or warn them or ally with them—exactly what Tamlin is condemned for. Rhysand betrays Summer by stealing their most valuable relic and weapon. It’s only after he fails that he reaches out to other courts for support. In fact, his failure fast-tracks the war—Hybern was counting on Inner Circle’s martyr complex which they all played right to the T.

Even forgiving all this as good intentions, they still keep everything under wraps. None of the courts are warned, including Summer and Autumn, who share their borders with Spring, which Hybern is taking over first. For two months, all they do is wait for Feyre. For two months, they don’t attempt to unite other courts to stop Hybern or make Feyre’s escape easy. They don’t even rally their Illyrian and Darkbringer armies until Feyre arrives. They have the best spymaster and the best network of spies, but they also have the habit of always pulling his sources out at crucial times. They have the most powerful daemati who never uses his powers to find who his potential comrades are but has no problem invading minds to assert his dominance. In the two months, Night comes to the tough decision to hold a High Lords meeting after Feyre returns.

Besides, Feyre claims to spy in Spring but finds nothing useful about Hybern’s plans, which is proved in the meeting. Feyre is a High Lady who can’t keep her emotions in check and destroys the one court that shields the mortal lands from the rest of Prythian, leaving both sides vulnerable to Hybern. Tamlin could have stalled the infiltration with his army, exchanged information with the twins or Jurian, or negotiated his people’s safety in exchange for more access to his lands which would have been the strategic move here. But Feyre undermines every single leverage Spring has in this situation.

Tamlin siding with Hybern is similar to Rhysand working for Amarantha. No one knows of his intentions until the very end either. There’s no proof Rhysand was in favour of Prythian. He is the one who told Amarantha about the human girl in Spring only days before they ran out of time to break the curse. He is the reason Tamlin sends Feyre back to the mortal lands. He is the reason Feyre is abused, tortured, and killed Under the Mountain. None of his actions support his words. Then, why is it hard to believe Tamlin who delivers what he promised? He keeps his cover until Feyre is in danger again. He brings Beron’s forces to join the war. If he was merely playing a hero, he didn’t have to do any of this. Tamlin was a double agent and he did a better job than Feyre, who managed to notify her Inner Circle about the twins she killed anyway.

See, the issue is not with the character but the structure of the plot. Did SJM plan it thoroughly? No. Was it executed well? No, there isn’t enough foreshadowing to convince the readers. Despite this, it still works to some extent because Feyre is an unreliable narrator. When she arrives in Spring, she is determined to ruin Tamlin’s life and expose him as a monster. She nitpicks every one of his choices, words, and actions. She glosses over his good deeds and reassures herself that they are his manipulative tactics. Even if Tamlin laid his plans out to her, she wouldn’t believe it—that’s how far she is in her rage and vengeance.

The entire espionage arc doesn’t exist to redeem Tamlin, but it is a device for Rhysand and Feyre to magically have everything they need. Tamlin is not a character SJM cares about. He is a villain and will always remain a villain. Had it been someone she wanted to redeem, there would be a 12-page monologue in the High Lords meeting with tears and a sob story.

None of this is favouring one point of view over the other, but it’s important to consider the mentality of other characters in such situations instead of believing every word from the chosen narrator. This is a major problem in this fandom where readers take Feyre and Rhysand’s views at face value and treat it as absolute truth when the situation is much more complex. SJM doesn’t respect her readers’ intelligence and writes with complete abandon. As long as you lap up whatever she offers and glorify her books, she has no reason to write a better story. Instead of hating on the characters like Tamlin, maybe you should be questioning the writer for such an unconvincing and subpar plot.

[helios-sol]

Cold Love, Warm Blood

Pairing: König x reader

Summary: König needs to be patched up. You’re there for him.

Warnings: injury, blood, kissing, excessive use of the name “big guy”, unspoken feelings and unexpected kisses, lil’ bit of spice.

Notes: i really didn’t expect to start writing again, ESPECIALLY for call of duty but here we are. This is brought to you by the idea of hood kisses with König that a friend and I couldn’t stop thinking about. If you want to be in my mind while I wrote this listen to Aqua Regia by Sleep Token.

The call had come in little after midnight followed by rushed orders for a field medic down to the emergency wing. Considering that you were the only medic on base at the moment, you’re the one stumbling through the door half asleep. Lieutenant Riley had filled you in before you’d stepped through the doors but nothing could have fully prepared you for what’s on the other side.

König sits slumped on the edge of the bed, sniper hood completely blood soaked and shredded to bits. Based on what you’ve seen in the field there’s a strong possibility that most of that blood is not his.

But you know, Riley told you all you need to know.

You approach slowly and König barely looks up. You notice his fidgeting, thumbs twiddling and leg bouncing.

“Hey- König-“ you speak softly, like you’re talking to a wounded animal.

His gaze is feral and you feel like you might actually be dealing with a wounded animal, spooked and looking for a way to run.

“Hey- I need you to lift your hood for me, okay big guy?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Your words don’t register in the slightest. König clenches his hands into tight fists before drumming them on his thighs.

Your hand reaches towards his hood and you speak loud so that he knows what you’re doing.

“I’m going to lift your hood, I need to get you patched up.

König catches your wrist before you’ve even reached his face.

“Lass mich das machen.” He rasps.

You nod in agreement.

Slowly he removes his helmet and sniper hood all while avoiding your eyes.

The only thing that you can even think to say is-

“Jesus Christ, König. What happened?”

His expression falls and he’s back to nervous fidgeting.

“Frag grenade. Got sprayed with shrapnel.” His voice wobbles.

His face is a jigsaw of blood and scars. There is a fresh gash, starting near his cupid's bow and running up towards his right nostril. His left cheek is busted and a black eye is blooming, forcing his eye to swell shut.

Your heart aches. You’ve become so close with König over the last year working with him. You know that he’s increasingly aware and self conscious of how he is perceived without his hood. He’s explained that he prefers the anonymity of it, wanting to keep his identity to himself and those that he trusts. You’re a lucky one that he trusts, which is why it stings to watch his face fall at your reaction. You know he asked specifically for you upon returning to base meaning he trusted no one else to help him.

Your fingers shake as you gently grab his chin, tilting his face towards the warm overhead light. He still avoids your eyes, opting to stare at a blank space on the wall. You don’t take it too personally. You know how it is coming down from an adrenaline trip.

“It looks like all you’ll need is some stitches and a really good night's sleep.” You attempt to smile.

He hums in response.

You turn to the side and grab your med kit before wedging yourself between his thighs. Even with your stool all the way up it is still a struggle to reach certain spots on König’s face.

“Can you lean towards me?” you ask, squinting as you examine his upper lip.

König leans down and you adjust the overhead lamp so you can see what you’re doing. The silence as you set to work is comfortable and you notice König has ceased his fidgeting. That alone makes you breathe a little easier. You won’t push him with questions, lord knows he will get enough of them in the debrief. But you do find yourself curious enough to ask just one.

“Ghost said you asked for me specifically,” you pulled your thread taught, “why?”

“You were the only one on base.”

He’s a terrible liar. You can feel his pulse quicken under your hand.

“Hmm. Sure that’s it?” you push the question just a bit further.

“No-” he hesitates, hissing as you pull too hard on accident, “I wanted to see you.”

He isn’t fully ready to admit that he was scared so shitless that he thought he’d never get to see you again.

“I’m glad you did come see me and didn't attempt to be a tough guy about this.” you tell him, tying off your stitches.

You move on to cleaning up his minor scrapes and cuts, careful of his bruised cheek. His one good eye has finally shifted to look at you, watching you work. You catch his eye just before he looks away and smile at him. He might be blushing but it’s hard to tell with all the shit his face has gone through.

“Alright big guy,” you pat his thigh before rolling backwards in your stool, “you’re all patched up. Try to take it easy for the next day or so. I don’t want you pulling the stitches on your lip.”

He nods before standing to his full height.

“Danke,” he murmurs.

“Bitte.” you smile at him.

You turn to chart something but König catches your shoulder. You crane your head up to look at him but he’s stooping down and pressing his lips to yours before you can even get a word out. He keeps his hands well above your waist, placing both of them on your shoulders in a respectful manner.

But nothing is respectful about the way he’s kissing you, hungry and desperate. You taste copper on your tongue and you know he just pulled the stitches you just did but you don’t care because he’s pushing you up against the counter like he’s trying to become a part of you.

“Es tut mir wirklich leid." He apologizes when he pulls away, trying to back away from you. Your hands press into his chest, gripping his tactical vest, and keeping him in place.

“Why are you sorry?” You pant, gazing up at him. His eyes soften and you realize there’s a bit of green in the blue of his eyes.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked.” He murmurs. You watch his tongue poke out and lick at the blood that’s running from his stitches.

“Shit, I pulled my stitches.”

“No sweat big guy.” You breathe deeply, “I’ll stitch you back up and send you to Ghost for debrief.” You nod for him to sit back on the bed.

“Thank you.” He bows his head, cheeks ablaze.

You smile as you sit back down to re-stitch him up. The silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable but König began to bounce his leg again.

“Hey-.” You duck into his view, “don’t bounce so much I don’t want to hurt you.”

He stops and instead begins to fiddle with his fingers again until you’ve finished. When you tie off your work and toss your gloves König is already pushing himself to his feet and making his way to the door, grabbing his hood and helmet and placing them back onto his head securely.

“Hold up there big guy.” You stop him at the door, striding right up behind him.

He turns and you grab the front of his hood to bring him down to your level. His eyes widen in surprise, words caught in his throat as you lift his hood just past his nose and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Come see me after debrief.” You mumble against his lips, licking at the freshly stitched wound.

“S-sure-yeah-“ König stutters, eyes drooping like he’s kiss drunk already.

There’s a bang on the door and König goes flying backwards from you.

“Hold your horses Riley, he’s COMING.” You holler out the door.

“It’s a bloody busted lip! How long could it take?” Ghost yells back.

You smile up at König before pushing him back towards the door.

“Get outta here before we both get our asses chewed out.”

König smiled sheepishly before ducking out the door and hollering back at you “see you doc!”

[steddieas-shegoes]

how are you even alive?

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘love is watching them do stupid things’

rated t | 1,351 words | cw: minor injury, suggestive language | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, the hurt is Steve being stubborn, the comfort is Eddie loving him even though he should accept help

♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️

Twice a year, Steve deep cleaned the house.

Eddie had never witnessed anything like it before.

It’s not that he and Wayne were slobs, but they just did what was necessary, never spending an entire week going over a checklist a mile long to cover every inch of their house.

Steve did.

He said that when he was young, his parents hired people to do it and he was always fascinated with the way the house smelled so fresh for weeks after. He loved watching something go from dusty to shiny, loved seeing the way the windows glistened without any fingerprints from him.

And as he got older, his parents stopped hiring people and just expected it to get done, so he did. And he loved it.

Eddie couldn’t understand it, but he did love the way Steve’s eyes lit up when they got to his cleaning weeks in March and September. He’d plan it all out on a notepad by room, made a list of cleaning supplies he needed, and put stars next to things Eddie would have to help him with.

There were few stars, thankfully.

Eddie didn’t really mind helping. It was his home, too, and any time spent with Steve was time well spent. But the bleach sometimes bothered his sinuses and he’d end up coughing and sneezing for two days after.

He checked the lists now and noticed his name was only on three things:

Flip mattresses

Gutter cleaning (hold ladder and refill pressure washer)

Bookshelves (remove all books, dust, put books back)

He fist pumped once at the realization that he got off easy this time, much easier than he’d been expecting.

Actually, he almost always was enlisted to help with holding the ladder when Steve dusted the-

A bang interrupted his thoughts and he ran without even thinking what it could be.

He walked into the kitchen to see Steve on their ladder, some kind of homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“What was that noise?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Steve reach as far as he could without falling off the ladder. He’d probably land on his feet from that height and be fine, but it wouldn’t exactly feel great.

“Dropped the other bottle I had hanging on my belt. It’s fine, just furniture polish. I can get it when I’m done dusting,” Steve was busy, barely even glanced back at Eddie as he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a supervisor?” Eddie found the furniture polish and set it on the counter, watching as Steve furiously rubbed at the top of the cabinets.

“I don’t. But gutter cleaning is tomorrow and I’ll need one then.”

“Steve…”

“Don’t Steve me. I’m fine! I’m already halfway done.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped away, not wanting to argue with Steve when he was at his happiest.

“Can you put the radio on please, baby? I forgot to before I climbed up here.”

Eddie went over to the radio on the kitchen table and turned it on, surprised to find it tuned to the rock station instead of the hits station.

“Well color me shocked! Were you listening to,” he gasped and held his chest. “Rock?”

“Yes, I was. But if you’re gonna make a big deal about it then change it to the hits,” Steves eye roll was almost audible.

“No, no. Let’s listen to Def Leppard, sweetheart. It’s been my dream for one whole minute to check out your ass while listening to Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

Steve snorted, but continued his work.

Eddie continued watching.

And then Steve wobbled a little. He caught himself, but Eddie stood up straighter.

He wobbles more and Eddie started to move towards the ladder to hold it steady.

But it was too late.

Steve was already falling.

He landed on his ass with a yelp and a groan, the washcloth and bottle flying across the floor.

“Shit, Stevie, you okay?” Eddie crouched down next to him, hands cupping his cheeks as he looked him over.

“Yeah. Just twisted my ankle a little when I tried to catch myself,” Steve gestured down at his ankle. “Might need to ice it before I clean more.”

“Maybe you should rest so it doesn’t swell.” Eddie rolled the sweatpants he was wearing up and saw the way it was already swelling. “Okay, you have no choice but to rest since it’s swelling.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that after we ice it,” Eddie said as he gently moved his ankle left and right to see if it was broken.

Steve snorted. “Of course this would happen the first day of my spring cleaning.”

“Maybe if you’d let me supervise earlier…”

“I never lose my balance on the ladder! I thought I’d be fine.”

“Steve, you remember how last year when you were cleaning the pool you insisted the water wouldn’t overfill because of the filters?” Eddie smirked. “And then 6 hours later we were trying to rescue your pool chairs from floating away?”

“That isn’t the same!”

“And then when we first moved in and you insisted you could paint the ceiling yourself and you insisted on handpainting instead of a roller because it wouldn't be even to you and then you dripped paint everywhere and we had to get new carpet? Remember how you ended up breaking your finger because you insisted on rolling the carpet yourself?"

"Okay, that was just bad luck."

"And when you put out the Christmas decorations last year while I was helping Wayne with his truck and I came home to you stuck on the roof?"

"Listen, I am almost 100% sure one of the neighbor kids knocked the ladder over. There was no other way!"

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure how you're even alive. You're asking for an accident to happen."

"Weren't you supposed to be getting me ice?" Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. "You want help getting to the couch first?"

"Nope. It's cleaning week. 20 minutes with an ice pack and then I'm back to dusting."

Eddie shook his head. "You're ridiculous. We'll ice it for 20 and then you're gonna rest for at least an hour so we know if we need to wrap it and keep weight off of it."

"I'm fine, Eds."

"Humor me, sweetheart."

It's a damn good thing Steve did because an hour and a half later, they were on their way to the emergency room for x-rays.

As the doctor told them both that Steve seemed to have fractured a small bone in his ankle, Eddie did his best not to look too smug.

"It won't require a cast or boot, but I do recommend ice every couple of hours and staying off of it as much as possible for the next week or so. If anything starts to hurt worse, come back for a boot."

"Thanks, doc." Eddie waited until the doctor left the room to turn to Steve. "How about next time you want to dust above the fridge and the top of the cabinets, you let me be there to catch you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine."

Eddie kissed his lips softly, barely brushed them just in case someone decided to walk in again. "You want me to stop on the way home to get some more pain meds?"

"Please."

"You hurtin'?"

"A little."

"You want me to take your mind off it?" Eddie wiggled his brows suggestively. "I can keep your ankle elevated, even."

"We'll see when we get home. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Someone has to do the cleaning, baby. Since I can't, looks like you've got a checklist to get to."

"Or we could just put off the cleaning until your ankle heals."

Steve shook his head. "No, I think you can handle it. I'll supervise."

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Eddie groaned.

"Don't forget I'm also very good at sucking your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's go before you get us discriminated against."

[laladellakang]

burgundy lipstick

masterlist | wattpad

italics dialogue = english

how the dark blood: engene ver. photocard shoot played out

real quick! i personally don't think that neck kisses have to be racy, like a peck to the neck is brief and innocent 

but the one i'm referring to in heeseung's relationship with della is the racy one, whoops.

The Dark Blood, Engene's version album. The most anticipated version among fans and the Enhypen members themselves.

The source behind the members' excitement? A neck-kiss that was supposed to take place.

For the photocard, all members but Niki were set to bear a kiss mark on their neck, with Della's lips serving as the boys' human-stamp and whoever wins rock-paper-scissors as Della's.

Yet the execution was cut short. Very short.

"Kiss here?" Della pointed at the side of Jungwon's neck. The first person appointed was decided by the staff. Perhaps Jungwon was chosen because he was the leader.

His coming-of-age could be an alternate reason. Since he is a recent adult, the staff wanted to check if it works with him.

And of course, there's always a possibility of the choice being completely random.

"Yup, just there. Maybe have it slightly askew," as the creative director and Della discussed placements, the young leader grew more nervous at the thought of his first ever neck-kiss.

"Okay, understood," Della mirror-lessly smeared on a burgundy lipstick, smacking her lips at the camera pointed at them. The rest of the members were all watching from afar, trying to be subtle with how excited they are for their turn. "Ready, Wonie?"

"Mm," Jungwon stretched out his neck for easier access. "Della is gonna make a kiss print on my neck," he explained to the future photoshoot sketch viewers.

"We're all friends here," Della clarified. "This is just bros being bros," as if their fans (or anyone) is gonna believe that.

"It's just a print," Jungwon added, immediately holding his breath when Della's head moved close.

"Like this?" Della asked the creative director.

"Uhh..." he stepped back and thought of it for a second. "It might be too sexy actually. It's a little too... suggestive– too grown up" he hissed with a tilt of his head. "Will buttoning up his shirt help? Jungwon, can you button your shirt?" but even with the slight change in wardrobe, the view was just too provocative.

"I think we have to discard the kiss idea and just switch to vampire bites," the creative director decided. "Unbutton them to how it was before and I'll inform the makeup team of the change. Please scrap this from the video," he informed before walking away.

As a leader, Jungwon was just hoping that his hyungs could get it together and not openly show their disappointment.

"I'll get going now," Della bowed her head and left to join the other members.

"What happened?" Sunghoon asked the girl. 

"The kiss thing is scrapped. We're getting vampire bites instead," immediately after, the boys let out a chorus of 'ahh..'s. 

Jungwon barely managed to hold in a scoff. It's just one tiny neck kiss, what's the big deal?

"Ya– how can they just cancel the kiss after testing it out on Jungwon?" Sunghoon groaned and threw his head back. After the shoots, all eight members were left alone in the green room to prep themselves before heading off, and it seems like the oldest five still held some unresolved feelings.

"They said it was too suggestive and sexy," Jungwon explained. "We all agreed that it is, didn't we?"

"I knowww, but couldn't they just make all of us get the mark first and THEN have it removed?" Sunghoon replied. "And while they're at it, NOT remove it from the behind episode?"

"Why? What difference does it ma–" Jungwon was cut off by Jay.

"It's easy for you to say! You were first up!" he pointed with a grin. Sometimes It's hard to tell whether he's actually serious with the second maknae. He usually gives out a smile while saying certain things. "You could quickly snap a few selfies and post it on Weverse or something. What a missed opportunity."

"What?" Jungwon seriously, truly did not understand what the big deal was.

"That's why I should've been first– they should've gone by age or something." Heeseung added with a sigh, manspreading on the sofa. "Della, darling, come here please," he pat his lap. 

"No, you're staying here," Jake wrapped his arms around Della, who was already on his lap. "Hyung, if we went by age then Jungwon will be first anyway since he's leader."

"That's not what he meant." Sunoo pushed Jake lightly with a giggle. "Like actually just age without consideration for leader."

"Ah is that so?" Jake monotonously said. "I want a lipstick print in public mannn!" he groaned out loud.

"I already imagined mine to be around here," Sunoo stretched his collar to show his collarbone. "What do you think, hyung?"

"It doesn't matter what we think if you're not getting it at the end of the day," Sunghoon replied, smirking at the pout the younger let out. "I imagined mine to be near my throat."

"Well it doesn't matter when you're not getting it at the end of the day!" Sunoo fired back with wide eyes.

"Ish!" Sunghoon balled up his fist with a grin. "Ya–"

"I wanted mine to be here, kinda," Heeseung distracted the two by pointing on the spot under his ear, just where Jungwon got his.

"Isn't that your sweet spot?" Jake asked. Della immediately scoffed out a laugh at his remark.

"How do you know where Heeseung-oppa's sweet spot is?" she laughed. The female member will never stop teasing her boyfriends about their never-fully-straight behaviour. 

"Anyways! I wanted mine around–" Jake tried to change the subject.

"Aish, get over yourselves, hyungs! I wasn't even set to get one," Niki laid his head on Heeseung's lap. "Stop being so horny," ever since he learned the Korean word for 'horny, he's been constantly using it to tease the older members.

"We're not!" the hyuppas and Sunoo protested.

 "With no mark on me, I was gonna look left out of the relationship," Niki muttered and closed his eyes.

"We're sorry, Niki," "We're really sorry, we didn't mean to," the members apologised.

"It's totally cool. Besides, if it's the neck kisses you're after, you could all just ask Della for one like any other day, simple as that."

"Of course! You need to give me some once we get home!" Sunghoon pointed at Della.

"Ya, ya, ya– me too! I want neck kisses too!" Jay sat up straight.

"Of course! You can't just leave any of us out!" Heeseung added.

"Why are you leaving me out then-" Niki was cut off by Sunoo.

"It's not your time yettt." he whined.

During times like these, Della usually stays out of the bickering. She can easily put a stop to it, but where's the fun in that?

Without a word, she got off of Jake's lap and made her way over to Niki, where she placed a chaste kiss on his neck.

"YA, YA, YA, YA, YA! What is happening?!" as his hyungs protested, Niki cheered and pulled Della in for a cuddle. Jungwon, Della and Sunoo were the only ones laughing.

'My men are absolutely adorable,' Della thought.

"You're laying on my lap and you do this to me?!" Heeseung playfully yelled at Niki.

"Maknae on top! Maknae on top!" Niki laughed, pointing at Jungwon and himself. Jungwon clapped his hand as he laughed aloud.

Being up first for the shoot has its perks.

accidentally posted my draft for this and deleted the original ask

check out jungwon’s pov here! (15+? 16+??)

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @riikiblr @i90snoo @one16core @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @clar-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys @duolingofanaccount @nvmbheart [@studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint @4sahii @8-itsmee-8 @toriluvsfics ]

[crazycurly-77]

Undercover Lap dance - Chapter 3

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings: It's getting very hot, but non-explicit

After Tony had left the room, Director Shepard cleared her throat and turned matter-of-factly to Mr. Albert: “I assume our employee's performance convinced you.”

The nightclub owner was more than enthusiastic and answered eagerly: “Oh yes! Completely!”

He stared at you and licked his lips suggestively, which Gibbs didn't like at all. The guy was innocent, but he was still sleazy and the investigator didn't like people like that.

With a curt: “When do the dancers come to work?” he turned to the man and took a step to the side to position himself between him and you. His stern gaze rested on Albert, who was now a little intimidated and backed away.

Gibbs had once again made his message clear and understandable with just one look: “Keep your hands off her or you’ll have to deal with me and you don’t want that.”

Mr. Albert said with correspondingly less confidence: “At 4:00 p.m.”

“Good. Ms. Y/L/N will be there,” Jenny confirmed.

“Now that we’ve got everything sorted out, I’ll take you to the exit,” she turned to the man.

She hurried to escort him towards the door, as she was afraid that Jethro would rip his head off and she wanted to prevent that. He didn’t say a word, but his tense posture and his look said: “Give me a reason. Please. A small one is enough and you won’t walk out of here.”

When Jen was almost out the door, a problem emerged.

“Who will help me take off the crown and wings?” you called quickly after her. Shepard looked at you, then at Jethro, then back at you, grinned and said lightly: "Gibbs will help you."

Then she disappeared and the door closed.

There you were, standing alone with Gibbs in the gym, staring at the door through which Jenny had disappeared and couldn't believe it. Was she serious? Apparently so.

Hesitantly and embarrassed, you looked at the investigator, or rather at his chest, because you had already heard a lot about him and, in your opinion, he probably thought all sorts of things about you.

You weren't entirely wrong, but you weren't entirely right either. There were actually several thoughts circling in his mind, but they were different than you had expected.

He wasn't judging you. No, he was wondering where you had learned that or whether you were a natural talent. He also wondered who you had already shown these dancing skills to and why he wasn't one of them. Within the few minutes of your dance, contrary to expectations, he saw you with different eyes.

Sure, you were always interesting to him, but he had never seen you so forbiddenly stunning. What else were you hiding?

He regretted that you had chosen Ducky for the lap dance, but maybe that was for the best, because otherwise he would have to struggle even more with his damaged self-control.

And now he should help you undress...?! Nothing would please him more than that. But if it were up to him, he would not only help you with the crown and the wings, but with the rest as well.

He felt his blood boiling more and more and his thoughts wandering. "Pull yourself together! You're almost like DiNozzo!" he scolded himself in his thoughts.

Calling himself to order, he cleared his throat. At that sound, you looked up - straight into his ice-blue eyes, which were full of questions.

"Let me help you," he said quietly and waited for your answer. You could only nod in agreement. Smiling, he asked you to turn around, but you were frozen in place. So he carefully took you by the shoulders and turned you around.

Nothing happened for a while, because he examined the fasteners and thought about how they could be opened without destroying anything. The feather crown was apparently the easier of the two pieces. So he asked you to hold the crown for safety while he removed it from your head.

That worked quite well, so he was able to take it off you quite quickly and put it on the floor. He was amazed at the weight of the crown and his respect and admiration for your ability to dance with it grew even more.

But that wasn't enough, because the wings still had to go. “It's obviously not that easy to put on and take off a costume like that…” he thought to himself.

As it turned out, the wings were a lot heavier than the crown, but they were only held around the shoulders by two straps, which made things easier.

He lifted the wings to take the weight off you, but when you tried to slip out of the straps, your long brown hair got caught in the sequins on the wings.

“Ouch! My hair is stuck somewhere!”

“Hold still, I'm trying to loosen it,” came Gibbs' nervous reply.

He tried to carefully loosen your hair and tried not to touch your skin, but that wasn't possible.

He carefully pulled on the strand of hair that was stuck and tried to untangle it. His fingertips lightly touched your skin as he ran his fingers lightly and gently along your spine.

Your skin was so velvety soft that he took a sharp breath and closed his eyes briefly to calm himself before he continued to loosen your hair from the costume.

Feeling his warm hands on your back, calloused from working with wood, was like an electric shock. It was a very pleasant feeling and you got goosebumps from his feather-light touch.

You suddenly didn't feel embarrassed anymore. Instead, you enjoyed it and asked yourself: "I wonder if he can give massages too? I would love to have him massage me after work."

(To be continued in Chapter 4.)

----------------------------------------

Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories - Part 1 (finished ones)

Masterlist stories - Part 2 (finished ones and ongoing ones)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[mywritingonlyfans]

hey pau 💙 can you write one 1 shot with kuku about how they deal after a light fight?

Love's Assurance. // Esteban Kukuriczka X Reader!

...

(2,1 words)

It affected you in a way that left your mind distant throughout the day, but deep down, you understood. He was tired, and although he was wrong, his insomnia without you by his side at night and his swollen eyes watching you leave in the morning made you realize that he was aware he had hurt you.

And knowing Esteban, he would be brooding over it while disciplining himself on how to reconnect with you and make things better.

"Come closer," you whispered, foam already all over his beard, and under normal circumstances, he would have kissed you and made a mess. You liked how you didn't neglect each other amidst complications; you loved him too much to go without touching him for long, and he was no different.

Despite the thoughtless and cruel words from the night before, he came to pick you up from work, waited outside with a cigarette as always, and kept your favorite songs playing even after you got into the car without giving him the usual long, lingering hug. He remained silent, his hand passing over his eyes along the way, and you would be foolish not to notice him struggling to keep them from getting misty.

You didn't fight much, but you had been together for a long time, so yes, it wasn't the first time. With your attention turned to the window, you placed your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers and listening to him sniff softly, in a way so discreet and embarrassed that if it weren't for the years, you would have missed it.

He squeezed your thigh affectionately; his fingers were cold, but yours soon made him comfortable. As you stroked his short arm hair tenderly, he felt stupid, both for what he had done and for still not knowing what to say or how to say it. You weren't angry with him, not at all, but you didn't like the feeling.

He took a deep breath, nestling himself between your legs, his long fingers grazing the hem of your shirt (which, by the way it hung to your thighs, was clearly his), gradually stealing the warmth from your hips to his palms. You smiled gently as his eyes met yours; sometimes he sensed he didn't deserve you. You felt him within you as you wet the blade and then held his face for better stability.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" You continued to remove the excess and then resumed the hair removal process that you so adored. Esteban wasn't very patient with his beard; whenever he had to do it alone, the results were intense itching and reddened skin. You never failed to take good care of him, and he appreciated it greatly. And with an audition for a play the next day, there you were, helping him and working your miracles.

“Like what, pequeña?" His voice was velvety, albeit cautious. Realizing it had been a while since you heard him, your body tingled. You trembled in a longer sigh, and your legs tightened around him; you wanted him close as if he could heal yourself from the pounding in your head. You wanted to say everything was fine, but you wanted to be honest in saying you were hurt. Yet, above all, you were waiting for him to take the first step. Things are much easier said than done.

Your face was furrowed in concentration, or perhaps annoyance; at that moment, he couldn't tell, but it seemed like you were about to carve a hole of distress into his face, and he couldn't help but smile upon finding you adorable.

"I don't know," you whispered. Despite looking tired, he still had a sweet expression on you. The wrinkle between his relaxed eyebrows and his caramel eyes shining even on not the best days. You liked that. He was yours.

He nodded, tracing circles on your skin, waiting for you to keep going. When you finished, you dried his face with the warm towel and applied soothing lotion. The added bonus that you loved about it was that you would sleep with the comforting scent of him impregnated on you. You ran your hands over his bare shoulders, appreciating each freckle, and solemnly, he pulled you into a hug.

Your forehead fell against his chest, your hand intertwined around his waist, and gradually, his breathing comforted you. He nuzzled his red nose against your cheek, down to your shoulder, and after lightly kissing it, he nibbled to hear you smile. It was the good and novel sensation of him without the beard on your skin.

"Thank you for takin' care of me, pequeña," he said, still feeling heavy. His face nestled into your neck, and he couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes. "I really cherish these little moments with you." He felt like an idiot, stating the obvious as if it would somehow make things better. His fear wasn't about apologizing but rather realizing how much he had hurt you with his actions.

You nodded against his skin, small in his embrace. "You know when we go to the market?" Your voice trembled, and he felt the dampness spread softly across his chest as you rubbed your hand on him. A lump formed in his throat as he held you tighter. "This is going to sound silly," you laughed without humor.

He watched you through wet eyelashes, holding your face and letting your foreheads rest together so you could look into each other's eyes. Your hair stuck to his, and he tried to pull them away in vain, perhaps they were meant to be stuck to each other forever. "I want to hear you out, it'll be important comin' from you," he said, his voice catching as he spoke.

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes. "I like how you smile at me when you 'find' me in the market, y’know? Your eyes, even the freckles seem to sparkle, I don't know if you've ever noticed, but it always happens, even though you know I'll always come back to you after finding one of the items on the list. Sometimes I think I do it on purpose, disappear among the shelves and then reappear with something in hand to show you, and it never fails. You squint your tiny eyes and then break into a smile with teeth and rosy cheeks that makes me want to hug you." You sniffled, feeling weak. He was just as emotional, yet he held you close, making you feel heard. "I'm afraid this will end," your voice trailed off, then you shook your head vehemently. "I hate thinking that you might get tired of being with me, and even though I know you acted in the heat of the moment, I can't stop thinking that it's a possibility." They were truths, and you felt apprehensive about being too vulnerable.

There was silence. And it wasn't uncomfortable. He held your face in his hands, you felt the tip of his nose nuzzle against your skin, and kisses were planted on your cheek. He offered you the same affectionate look as always. "It won't end, I promise. I'm so sorry." He held you tighter, hating himself beneath his own skin. He didn't realize he had left you alone dealing with those feelings. Sometimes he wished you'd be angry with him and scream at his face, but fortunately, you both knew better than that. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I was tired and ended up unloading my feelings on you when you were trying to help. I didn't know you felt this way, I'm glad you feel comfortable talking about your feelings with me. I'm so sorry, I'll keep looking at you the same way as always, I'm in love with you and that won't change overnight. You're stuck with me, pequeña.”

“I know you didn't mean it." The tips of your fingers touched his nose, trailing your thumb to his eyes as you smiled weakly seeing that he had shed tears. "I’m upset, but not angry at you. And I know I'm stubborn and have been forgiven for my questionable actions before.”

He chuckled at his own words, cheeks and the tip of his nose red. Indeed, he hadn't noticed, but upon reflecting on memories, he loved having you close to him. In public, whether at the market or any other event, the voices in his head and external noises became more persistent, almost paralyzing, and having you at his side made him feel lighter; with his mind in place. Loving you made him feel more patient, that warm feeling in his chest and the assurance that everything would be alright because the person he cherished the most in the world was with him.

The difference was that he knew you would know what to say and would resolve everything masterfully; you wouldn't leave room for insecurities to take hold on his head. He didn't have much to say; he had failed you, something that took less than 2 minutes, and he still replayed the sad look in your eyes and the lowered head you gave him the previous night as punishment.

You opened your arms, noticing how he had withdrawn into himself and hovered low in his own thoughts. "Take me to bed, Kuku," he forced a smile, holding you close. His hands firm on your waist as you intertwined your legs around him.

“I won't do it again, I won't make you feel this way again. I love you. I'm sorry." It sounded more breathless, but not desperate. It was polite and well-articulated. It was as if he believed he needed to prove something to you because words wouldn't be enough. And even though he would apologize more times because of how concerned he was, you knew he would be careful not to do it again. He had always been good at listening to you.

Your back sank into the mattress, and your fingers wound through his hair as his face nestled into you. "I don't like sleeping without you," he whispered, lifting his head. His hand roamed over your cheek and chin, enamored with how he closed his eyes at your touch and sighed. You kissed him lightly, and as you sank into the bed again, he stole another kiss from you. Soon the tips of your fingers followed the path of his freckles, and he understood, he would miss you if fate decided that you didn't want him anymore at any time.

"Yeah?" Your eyebrows arched, wanting to hear more even as you snuggled closer to the pillow, feeling very exposed to his eyes.

"If you apologize again, I won't forgive you; you'll have to stay alone. I know you won't do it again." Your voice didn't carry bitterness, and he felt lighter. You pulled him to be more comfortable beside you, soon snuggling up to him, there was a faint sigh against your cheek, and you held on tighter to his warmth. His hands were touching your back through his shirt, making themselves comfortable around your waist. He dragged his beard-less face on your forehead, kissing the spot, and you whispered in a sing-song tone, "Kuku?"

"Yeah," he laughed, in the sweet way that lit up his face. "I like how you tell me about your day and listen to me ‘til we both fall asleep," there was a brief pause, his fingers tracing over your skin, and he sighed contentedly that you were there, close and being filled with his kisses. "I also like the mornings, when you mess with my hair until I wake up and have you smiling, tangled up with me, or when I wake up and the bathroom light is on, and I can see you washing your face or brushing your teeth." He held your chin, so that you were looking at him. His mind hovered over how frequent those scenes were, and he still loved them equally.

There were countless times when he was away for filming and fell asleep on a video call after hours of talking to you. And you had a habit of taking random everyday photos and sending them to him, and just like today, whenever he didn't receive anything, he wanted to call you and have you describe your surroundings to him (but he never did because he imagined it as something lame). "I need you, I'm sorry," before he could continue, you covered his mouth, feeling his breath catch as you smiled openly at him.

“Your mother called early today inviting us to lunch with her; I said we would go after your audition." Your breath was light against his chest, and the lightness of the words made him chuckle. It was silly to think that his mind had led him to think that you would consider not forgiving him when, as always, you were open to talking about it, no matter how wrong he was.

He grumbled, and somehow he brought you even closer.

[eirakairos]

Rendezvous Chapter 2

You were supposed to have a rendezvous with him away from the shackles of the city. You were supposed to tell him great news. He was supposed to have a rendezvous with you and be away from the shackles of reality. He was supposed to tell you great news.

A/N: I continued writing after but I liked the end part. I often think Sylus doesn't fully cry, but for the first time, he was a bit emotional from the dream, especially after what happened.

It took a while because I was busy with work and family but I'm working on the next one!

Words: 3,004

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Tags: Hurt/comfort, minor violence, and injury, character death implied!, pregnancy and childbirth, don't worry this is angst but with happy ending

You inhaled sharply with a groan when you reached consciousness. Everything in your body is screaming in dull pain. You were supposed to be out of the office to meet with Sylus then BAM! You heard a pitched noise piercing your eardrums as everything pristine suddenly turned into rubble. You tried to fight your consciousness as everyone was screaming for help, you knew Sylus would be there for you. But before you can move further, a pair of arms carries you and before slipping further, you hear their rough voices.

“Give her first aid! She has to be alive enough for the transport!”

“Finally! After so many weeks! We can use it to take over the grasslands into our empire!”

You hear the humming sounds of the engine and speeding. You glance at a nearby window and assume you are in a plane, as there is nothing but the night sky, the moon illuminating, and a few clouds. You are still in your hunter clothes but without your weapons. You think that maybe the people who brought you here were the ones who took them.

‘This chamber, I felt I was here before…’ you thought. You looked around the dark confinement around you. A memory started to resurface.

“This was one of the Onychinus ships we use for the transportation of goods,” Sylus said as they were walking in the ship. “It is an old model, but still useful,” he followed. You were looking around in wonder as you were there with him for an errand.

“What are you going to do with it?” you asked. “A faction under Onychinus was needing one,” he replied. “This ship has a lot of issues since I used to use it a lot.”

“Like what for?”

“I… Modified some things so I can deal with things easier,” Sylus grinned. Your eyes squinted. He pointed at an enclosed room, similar to where you’re now. “Like in this one, I made a pathway to get out of the halls.” He walked to the room and removed a panel, showing a form of door access. “It's not detected easily unless you know it's there,” Sylus went in the pathway.

“So a sort of escape plan, it seems. I feel you’ve been in a situation where you get jailed in your ship,”

“Well, there are such circumstances that happened,” he smirked and went closer to you. “If things fail, this would be handy.” He tapped on the crow brooch you won against him after he challenged you.

“Huh? I thought this was just a decoration?” You said.

“It's not just access to N109 Zone safely, Kitten,” he smirked.

You quickly went to the back of the room and gently touched the panels installed.

And indeed it was removable. You placed the panels on the side and went in before putting them back on again.

You are in no condition to fight as you meticulously try to sneak out of the halls. You hear murmurs in the far end going closer and making you panic, looking for any place to hide.

“Onychinus is making moves far more aggressively than expected,”

“Who knew that the leader’s weakness… is a woman?”

You quickly went to the metal cabinets where they would put clothes as their steps got louder.

You clenched your fists, they probably had heard of the Aether Core in your heart and wanted to take advantage of it. Sylus has one too, but they won’t dare to face him. You can fight them because of their comments but you’re on the shit end of the stick at the moment.

“We are almost there after two days of traveling in the skies. I’m so beat,”

“When we arrive, we are going to put that girl in the operation to extract the Aether Core if Sylus didn’t go to our demands,”

‘As if, even without Sylus, I will bring you all down,’ you thought. You peeked through the small slits of the cabinet to see them walk away and turn to the next hallway. You slowly went outside and walked to the other side of the hallway. You are trying to remember the map of this ship as you sift it in your memories.

“Does this ship have any last defense?” You asked. You are walking in the same halls as him. He was checking to decide if the ship was good enough to be given.

“Well… If exploding itself is what you call a last defense… Then yes,” He replied. You were surprised. “There are bombs in this ship?!” You exclaimed. Sylus grins as he goes to a security panel…

And you punched the code, it was your anniversary date with him. It opened a slot, it looks like a circular item should be placed in. You shuffled around your body to find the crow brooch he gave you in your secret pocket. You inserted it in the slot and it shines red, accepting the brooch. “Self-destruct will start in thirty seconds…” a robotic voice confirmed. Alarms are heard as you panicked again, running through the exit.

“High-security alert! The subject has escaped! High alert to all personnel!”

“It is not just a crow brooch…” You said. Sylus smirked as he closed the panel after showing it to you. “The brooch is… for really special guests,” he continued. In nearing the wide exit, he went to open the hatch. Gusts of wind suddenly burst inside, almost swaying your body away.

“What- What are you doing?!” you yelled.

You open the hatch as the footsteps are getting frantic.

“Well, we are going on to the errand a bit different this time,” he said as he tossed over a parachute backpack to you. “Huh?!” you yelled as Sylus carried his on his back. He went on you to adjust the backpack and grabbed you by the waist.

“Ready to escape this hellhole?” Sylus asked as you got dragged to the edge of the hatch.

“Six… Five… Four…”

You ran to the hatch as the men saw you and started to shoot.

“Remember we need her alive!”

You were afraid because the drop was so high. “Well, I have no choice, aren’t I?” you said, nervously smiling at him. “You are stuck with me after all… Don’t worry, I’m with you,” he reassured. “If you get lost, I will find you,” he continued. You held onto him tighter as you two jumped together.

You suddenly feel the weightlessness of the sky as you jump. BAM! You shielded yourself from the debris as you saw the ship go into flames. At the appropriate height, you activate the parachute as you gently glide down, you see neverending grasslands below you. Your adrenaline is starting to go lower, and the pain is starting to be more felt, especially since you just saw a gunshot wound on your side. Exhaustion is starting to take over you as you unlatched yourself from the parachute and looking around, realized you are in the middle of nowhere. Everything is overwhelming, even though on the good side you escaped but otherwise, you have no idea what was happening, only to put pieces together.

Before you can react, your body was unable to keep active any longer. You wish your love was here with you, he would know what to do.

“Sylus…” you murmured as your vision got blurry and completely went dark.

You stir and see yourself inside a hut. You do feel tired, but the pain is survivable.

“Good day, finally you gained consciousness,” You looked at who was speaking, who was an old woman, cooking in the makeshift kitchen. “How are you doing, dear?” she asked after placing a bowl of soup beside you.

“Where am I?” You asked. You’re still a bit disoriented. “Who are you?”

“You are in the grasslands,” she answered. “The warriors had found you collapsed while they were hunting. They brought you here for healing. I am the healer and advisor in my tribe,” she said. You looked at the bowl and scooped it with a spoon. You are starting to wolf it down, making the old woman amused. “My assumption is right, you were famished.” she smiled. “Based on the peculiar clothes, you came from a far place, didn’t you?” she asked. You stopped and nodded. “Yes, it was a long story,” you said. You did retell the tale from your point of view. The old woman listened eagerly. “It seemed you have endured so much, dear,” she spoke.

“How… How would I get out of here to return?”

The old woman sighed as she went to the cabinet. “Well you have to travel for five days to get to a nearby village, then traverse further around two days more to get to the main city,” she said. “But we are nearing the hibernating season, where we don’t travel because the journey are being perilous,” she continued. “You needed a longer recovery time. In the meantime, do stay and rest.”  You were disappointed, the travel is going to be long. But you have to return… Back to him. She gave you fresh clothing, which is simpler than your tattered uniform. You noticed the robes and the accessories were very familiar. You suddenly remember you are in the grasslands. The hut looks different, much modern but familiar.

The old woman is working on her table, with her herbs, roots and stones ready. “Also, Miss, I would like to ask something,” she spoke. You hummed and looked at her.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

In the following weeks, your wounds were healing well but you have gone sicker occasionally. You slowly acquainted the women in the village and do help with menial, lighter tasks since you are carrying a baby… Sylus and your baby. It just sunk to you. You were in the office many weeks ago, getting your things ready to go on a special date with him. You were exiting the floor when you just felt being blasted away. You were excited to go with him and tell the good news. After grueling weeks, you were looking forward to being with him again. You are having this indescribable feeling, that it is probably better that when you can return, you won’t come back as a hunter again. So much time was wasted, even just spending time with Sylus. You missed him so much, you wanted to return but your pregnancy was very delicate, especially after your body went to the limit because of the explosion and the kidnapping. You wish he would find you again soon.

“Miss, are you alright? Why are you crying?”

You stopped your thoughts. You just saw your hands on your tummy and felt tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped it away. “Sorry, it's probably the pregnancy,” you chuckled.

The ladies were calmed and continued weaving robes. You are trying your best to gain weaving skills, but it was a bit more complicated than you expected. You were amazed the ladies were doing it very well and fast. 

You are almost on your way to your pregnancy several months later. Your belly is very obvious now and nearing its due. “I’m glad to see the baby is strong,” the old woman said. “It shows that she is a fighter like her mother,”

“Wait… She?” you said, astonished.

“Well, that is my assumption, based on your appearance, the shape of the belly, and what I see in the stars,” She hummed. You are half believing and not in the other. You imagined a baby girl in your arms but has Sylus’ hair color and eyes or your colors to a baby boy. You smiled at the thought, you would love them anyway, as they are half Sylus.

“What about the father of the baby?” the old woman asked. I won’t be surprised if it takes long to find you if he does,” she continued. We are really in a remote place, and people who come by to the tribe either have a purpose or a fated coincidence.” There was silence for a bit. What is he like?” the old woman curiously asked.

You believed in Sylus, he would find you wherever you go. He has always done that since you’ve met him. “He is a formidable warrior. A… Leader in his tribe,” You answered. He is despite the environment of his place is the opposite of the grasslands. “Despite the comfortable life, he did… Has his bargains and sacrifices, especially whenever I’m involved,” you followed. In peaceful times like this, you did wonder if abandoning everything with him would be worth it. “I hope he would find you sooner, dear… Does he know? It would be quite a surprise if he didn’t,” she smiled. You looked down on your belly. You were going to, as you got a confirmation hours before the meeting. You were excited to welcome a little being, half you and half him.

You were resting beside the hut as you saw young ladies making little pouches. You remembered the dagger and when you were transported to the grasslands with Sylus. You remembered the tribe’s culture of a girl giving a pouch they made to the man they liked. You gave one to Sylus, which you hope he still keeps it. You suddenly felt this longing for him, questioning why is he not here with you, anxiety sets in that probably he had forgotten about you and moved on. It’s been a few months, if his stalking skills were good, he should’ve been here by now. Are the grasslands that remote? If he were here, he would know what to do, much better than yourself. You wanted him here beside you, being happy and ecstatic to meet his little one soon. You miss his company, his eyes glaring at you, his protectiveness wherever you go, you feel… Much helpless and lonely here.

Sylus sees himself in the endless field of grass as he wonders where his dream is taking him this time. He had been having nightmares since you were gone from the explosion in the Hunter’s Association months ago. The investigations had been slowed and people had moved on, but not him. He searched the nearby cities everywhere and took revenge against any people connected to the tragedy. The job was far from being done, they took you away, and he will take away the world from them.

Sylus kept on walking until his eyes widened, he saw you sitting under a tree. You are in a tribe as you are wearing similar clothes like them. He runs as fast as he can, he didn’t have such dreams as this, as seeing you alive and… Pregnant? This is definitely a dream, his dream of just wanting a family with you, you carrying his child, making the limited time witness of your love together. He was going to but it seemed a far-fetched wish now. You looked so beautiful as always but much more in reaching motherhood.

You didn’t have any reaction when he was already in front of you. Your eyes were looking at the distance, almost teary. “Sylus…” He heard you whisper. He called you but you seemed to not be hearing him.

Suddenly your face contorts in pain. “What’s wrong?” he asked but you screamed more, alerting the tribe members. He wanted to comfort you and give aid but whenever he tried to touch you, his hand goes through. He realized that you were going to give birth, and he followed you as the people helped you to get back to the hut. The healer prepared the childbirth as you were huffing and started to push. Sylus felt helpless, he wanted to reassure you and be at the most comfort despite the situation. “My beloved, you’re doing good, don’t worry…” Sylus whispered beside you. He wished he can hold your hand, to somehow deal with the minuscule of pain of your grip. He whispered support and reassurances to you, even if this is a dream, he is angry at himself for not being with you. In real life, he still tries to find answers, even though in logical circumstances, you are not alive anymore. His heart beats in happiness seeing you here, despite it is only an illusion.

A cry stopped his long mile of thoughts as it felt it was hours. You are a fighter indeed in his eyes. “It is indeed a girl!”

You are exhausted, far, far much worse than dealing with a horde of wanderers. You heard stories about childbirth and it is scary and painful as they said. You heard the cry of your baby, she is alive and finally arrived here in this land. You cried as you saw the baby girl and held onto your arms. You also heard that childbirth is a rewarding, unexplainable blissful feeling of seeing a piece of you and Sylus merged into a tiny human. You are a family, despite him being away. You know deep down he would be here if he knew.

There is this protective and proud feeling to Sylus in seeing you and your child together. A little family of his own, and he is now a father, even if it's only in dreams. He went to kiss your cheek, he wished you would feel it. But you are crying in happiness looking at his daughter. He smiled more at seeing his daughter, she had tiny white strands of hair. He would give everything for this to be a reality. He would give the world to his beloved partner and daughter.

His eyes opened and blinked a couple of times, realizing he was looking at this high ceiling, being back to his darkened room as he roused. In the blink of an eye, he lost you two again. He looked at the ring box on his side table, then at the dark red sky in his window, the slimmer of light illuminating tears forming to the edges of his eyes.

[whereserpentswalk]

Ttrpg safety tools and the dog test

A quick rundown of what safety tools are: tools for setting boundaries in ttrpgs. Can be useful to some people, but often used really wrongly, and often seem overly gamey to me personally. It's like therapy speak for rpgs. And is similary used by the people it was meant to be used against.

One of the most common examples of these is the X card. The X card is a card with the letter X written on it. It sounds like a good idea if you've never interacted with people before. The X card is a boundary where one of the rules is you can't talk about the boundary. It's very useful for anyone who want to weaponize it, and not very useful for asserting actual boundaries.

There is also a type of chud who dislikes the the idea of safety tools because they think they're "woke". The only way to have a productive conversation around safety tools is to ignore them. Bad faith questions don't deserve good faith answers.

Now, a lot of people would think that its easier for a player to step out then deleate a scene. But a lot the culture around safety tools is based on this toxic highschool mindset around ttrpgs where someone feels like they both have a right, and a duty to be at every single momment of every session, and everyone else does to. So every single safety tool you'll see will assume the of lack the option of leaving the table at all. Being able to leave at any time is the ultimate boundary in ttrpgs and many other safety tools are attempting the impossible task of establishing boundaries without it. People compare them to safe words in bdsm. But it's like trying to create a safe word system but you have to cum and can't take breaks.

See part of the problem is 4chan and reddit have cultures of rpg horror stories. Which are useally lies. I'm not going to say fiction because that implies a relationship with the audience that they don't have. And these lies almost always have queer people, ND people, leftists, and anyone you'd see called a degenerate or weirdo as villains. While the type of nerd that Scott Pilgrim was the first book makes himself out to be a hero. And reddit also happens to be where the concept of safety tools was popularized.

It's this problem where people aren't trying to deal with actual triggers, they're trying to police content they morally condemn. R/rpg horror stories is the home of people who consider themselves outcasts for liking star wars and then have a deep fear of a marginalized person or someone from a slightly less mainstream subculture showing up at their table. And when they're the ones defining what a boundary conflict in rpg space looks like it's useally pretty bad. When a lot of safety tools go bad it's the case of weapons made to catch monsters being bad at dealing with humans.

And beyond all that. Beyond the specifics of rpg horror stories and it's influence. The way people talk about safety tools is mostly about removing content they deem objectionable from ttrpgs. When people talk about the X card and things like it, they're useally afraid someone will talk about something taboo and the table, and want a way to stop them, with the assumption that the rest of the party agrees. The extreme nature of how much someone has the power to censor, is brought with the assumption that what will be censored won't just violate their personal boundaries, but a community sense of morals.

They don't just want their triggers removed, they want things they deem immoral to be removed (not everyone who uses safety tools of course, but the hoard of bearded cishet white men who play 5e who dominate the conversation on them). That's just what a lot of the conversation around safety tools always comes down to. When somebody says they want safety tools to remove torture scenes or sex scenes from their table, it's not their personal triggers, its that they don't believe these things belong in the medium at all. They don't imagine what it would be like to be the only person in the room with their trigger, because the narrative they've created with problem players and safety tools, has made it so they assume the majority of the room shares their boundaries. Safety tools as they exist and are talked about are not built for a minority of players to be able to assert boundaries agaisnt the majority of players.

The dog test: so basically, while safety tools in ttrpgs have good reasons to exist, a lot of the time they're weapons players use to remove content they deem immoral. So often every discussion around things like the X card comes with a lot of moral condemnation, and assumptions about what content can ever be triggering vs what is ok. And this culture of moral condemnations can make safety tools especially dangerous for queer people and ND people, or just members of certain subcultures.

So I've developed the dog test. The dog test, is an example used to test if a safety tool (or more commonly someone talking about them) wants boundaries or wants moral policing. The dog test is simply to see how the safety tool is viewed if it's used to remove dogs from a game. Basically taking the commonly used examples like blood, or sex, and replacing them with the existence of dogs. Perhaps to add to it let's say the only case this hypothetical person will be ok with dogs is if they're killable enemies. This isn't unrealistic, a lot of people have trauma from dog bites, it's probably more likely to be a good faith trauma than a lot of the examples.

If they person is as willing to work with the needs of a player who has trauma around dogs as they are more sympathetic triggers than they've passed the dog test.

Disclaimer. A lot of these thoughts were developed in a discord conversation with @dragonpurrs and a lot of these words were originally things I said to it.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Abandoned || Enver Gortash x F! Resist Urge-Durge

Quick note edited 12/04/24: Changed a few details of this story. Removed reference to Gortash kissing durge during the coronation scene & tweaked context of the memory flash she gets during this.

Summary: The Dark Urge meets with Gortash in his private rooms the evening after the coronation.

Words: 3989

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“Come to me, tonight. We have so much to discuss. None will hinder you.”

She’d just stepped out of the fortress when the words were beamed into her mind in Gortash’s voice. A send message spell clearly.

______

Feravel stood at the foot of Wyrm’s rock looking up at a balcony high above. Its doors were open and light spilled out into the night. She didn’t have to investigate to know he was up there waiting for her. For nearly half an hour, Feravel sat on her boulder contemplating everything she could remember -which was admittedly very little- and comparing it with the information Gortash had shared. The most frustrating part was that she could detect no lie. He had been so infuriatingly open about the whole thing, earnest even in his proposition for an alliance. Furthermore, she supposed the Emperor was right when he suggested she could accept the alliance and not honor it. Feravel was set on destroying the brain. In no realm of existence would she use it to subjugate and that decision was only further cemented with this revelation that the whole mess…was her own doing.

She sighed. A tear forming in her eye as she remembered Gale’s harsh words.

“So this all is your doing?! Not just a Bhaalspwan-" He scoffed. "But the chosen of Bhaal? I need to be alone. I need to think.”

Astarion had tried to rest a hand on her shoulder, but she’d shrugged it off and not gone back to the Elf Song since. Instead she’d taken to meandering through the bustling streets of the Gate trying to remember her life, but gods all she could remember was blood and that unruly black haired man which she now knew had to be Enver Gortash. Even before meeting him at the coronation, she’d felt a sense of familiarity toward him -warmth- looking at his face plastered on posters around the Gate.

She turned her mind back to Gale. Gale who was so kind and genuinely good even when she was moody or difficult. Who saw the best in her always. The one she loved, but if Gale wanted space, she needed to give it to him. She couldn’t be emotional about it and then face Gortash. The man had keen eyes, he would certainly notice, so she took a moment to school herself. There was also the disadvantage that he clearly knew her and well.

Perhaps it would be easier to deal with him alone like this, though, instead of with the pressure of an audience. There were only two ways this discussion would end after all; an alliance or his death -damn what her buried self felt about it. After a deep calming breath, Feravel looked up at the balcony again and misty stepped directly onto the rail. Hopping from the rail to the stone floor with a dull thud as her manner of announcing her presence.

“You always have liked to keep me waiting.” Said Gortash, promptly and with a distinct note of fondness.

His back was to her and he was seated at his desk, but there was a meal laid out on the nearby table.

“Help yourself. I’m sure you haven’t eaten what with wandering around the city all day. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Hesitant, Feravel stood just outside on the balcony watching him. He was at ease here not troubled at all by her unconventional manner of arrival -had expected it even. Gone was his overcoat, gilded bracers, and gloves, leaving him looking oddly exposed before a possible enemy; he was dressed in only his fine black shirt, trousers and leather boots. Was it a display of confidence? Or did he genuinely believe himself safe in her presence? Either left Feravel feeling off kilter which she supposed was his aim.

“The food isn’t poison if that’s what you’re thinking.” Enver added when he didn’t hear her enter the room.

She stepped inside, but didn’t close the door behind her as she strode over to the table. Leaving herself a quick escape should she need it. Despite the fact she was hungry, Feravel ignored it in favor of asking the obvious instead.

“You’ve been spying on me?”

Enver put down his quill and turned to face her. “Spying sounds so…invasive. I’ve simply kept tabs on your little traveling group. Ever since I saw you in the eye at the goblins camp, before you destroyed it that is, I’ve kept an ear out so to speak. Nothing so organized as spying.”

Feravel wrinkled her nose. Whatever he said, it sounded very much like spying and she didn’t much appreciate it.

“Whatever.”

She plucked an orange from the fruit bowl and rolled it between her fingers. It was firm, but not hard. Fresh, he’d brought out the good stuff in anticipation of her arrival. A brief thought of the joy she’d felt when Gale had gifted her one he managed to find during their travels. Enver knew her fondness for oranges as well it seemed. How was that supposed to make her feel? Whatever his intent, it only made her more wary of him.

She considered the orange a moment longer before deciding he must be telling the truth and pulling out a paring knife to slice the fruit. Why waste good food to poison her? He certainly didn’t seem to want her dead. Nor, had she thus far detected any hint of deception from him.

Popping a slice into her mouth, Feravel turned her attention back to him. He was watching her with just the hint of a smile. She got the feeling he was remembering something she couldn’t. It made her frown. That memory she’d seen in his mind… She resisted the urge to covertly cast detect thoughts on him again -after all she’d gotten much more than she bargained for before.

“So what’s the play here?” She asked finally when she couldn’t take the weight of his gaze any longer.

Amusement flared in his eyes. “Play?”

Feravel furrowed her brow. “The late night meeting-“

“It is only late by your own choice. You could have come hours ago.”

“The food. This-“ She huffed, gesturing vaguely to him causing Enver to raise one eyebrow at her. “As if you’re meeting a friend…not a potential assassin.”

He chuckled. “Are you here to kill me?”

Feravel clenched her jaw. It grated her how blatantly he was enjoying himself. The urge sang with excitement at her irritation: kill him, it will please your little friends, make them a gift of him innards. It will please father. Destroy the Banite. Flay his skin, carve the smirk from his foul lips-

She abruptly shut the thoughts down.

“I could be. You did say I was your favorite assassin.”

Enver spread his arms as if in another context he might be offering a hug. “Then by all means, my dear. I am all yours.”

A muscle in her face twitched. Did he think himself funny? How foolish was he to temp her urge like this? Tense moments passed. She wondered if from his spying he’d determined she wouldn’t just kill him outright or if he was playing with her. The notion brought forth a wave of bloodlust that she had to focus to master. Consequentially causing her to miss the knowing way Enver was appraising her.

“No?” He finally asked once he deemed the moment had passed. Getting to his feet, he strode over to her, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand, but Feravel swiftly stepped back. Enver hummed apparently in consternation. “Well I suppose after all you’ve endured it would be difficult to expect us to pick up where we left off.”

Her mouth went dry. Even with the space she’d asserted between them, he was close. If he’d wanted to, Enver could still reach out and touch her. The thought made her heart race and heat rise up her neck. Her eyes flicked over his partially exposed chest and she inhaled sharply unwittingly taking in a fine scented perfume she recognized. Dark rosewood and vanilla bourbon, Feravel found herself breathing more slowly to savor the scent.

“I had hoped coming of your own will to be a good sign. That you remembered more than you were letting on infront of your companions.” He looked a touch disappointed. “But it does seem Orin did quite the number on you.”

She hummed condescendingly pushing away the fog his scent had momentarily clouded her mind with.

“Yes, well from where I’m standing it seems my nearest and dearest ally did nothing to prevent that. Perhaps I could be forgiven for not being quick to pick up where we supposedly left off.”

“But you’d trust a group of misfit strangers?”

“A parasite shared is a parasite halved…so I’ve heard.” Feravel said with a shrug.

“Well you should know. I did not let her kill you. We weren’t to meddle in eachother’s affairs. You were very clear on that. All I could do was warn you of her ambitions which I did -duly- to which you explicitly told me you intended to handle it. I wasn’t to know the inner workings of your father’s temple.”

The words sparked a feeling of recognition in her gut. A conversation long forgotten, now just whispers. She couldn’t prove or disprove his claim either way so she said nothing.

“You were gone. I have tolerated Orin for the sake of our plan, but I’ve always liked you.”

She sensed something off about the way he said liked. Slightly strained tone as if he’d almost used another word instead.

“Yes well, I hardly remember you and I know nothing of this plan as you’ve dictated it. Frankly I have no interest in either. Orin is Bhaal’s chosen and I am changed. I want only to be free of this threat of becoming a mindflayer and to go my own way.”

Enver pressed his lips into a thin line. She’d hit a nerve. Good, she thought.

“With things as they are, there is an imminent threat to all the infected, but furthermore the entire Sword Coast. Orin is becoming increasingly bold. As I told you earlier, she’s out for blood: yours and mine. She’d kill us both and take the stones for herself. You may have no interest in this plot, her, or the temple of Bhaal, but she will never stop hunting you until one of you is dead. That is a fact. One way or another you will have to deal with Orin. It is only a question of what you’ll do after that.”

She couldn’t help the small nod of agreement. It was in essence, the same conclusion she’d come to. With Orin after her, the issue would shortly come to a head and especially with the spy Enver previously revealed to be at her camp.

“I do intend to deal with Orin. On my own terms.” She said diplomatically .

“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. An alliance benefits us both. You saw that before. ” He said. “In the mean time, it would be a horrible shame to let a good meal go to waste?”

Feravel expected more pressure from him to outright agree to working with him, but it seemed he felt little concern for it. As if he considered their alliance a foregone conclusion. It irritated her.

She glanced at the table. Her forgotten orange lay on a plate before her. Glancing at Enver, she sighed and went to take a seat. Plots, backstabbing, and alliances aside, she was hungry. Perhaps she could just ignore him while she ate and then disappear.

It was blessedly quiet between them for a time, but Feravel was not blind to the way Enver observed her mannerisms. He was searching for the person he knew in her. She could feel it, but not until she had just finished eating did he decided to speak.

“You are not quite so changed as you think. I very much doubt, you would have made it this far if you were nothing of what you once were.”

Enver did not meet her eyes as he said it, but he was watching her from behind his chalice of wine which he raised to his lips promptly after uttering the words. It was bait. Clearly, but she couldn’t help herself from taking it.

“And what was I before? A bloodthirsty murderer? Simply more controlled than Orin? Easier to steer? A weapon in the Black Hand of Bane?”

“Self assured, shrewd, and cunning.” Enver answered readily. His lips quirked up just slightly at her scornful words. “If a tad short fused…but passionate.”

“Such pretty flattery. One might almost think you earned that silver tongue from a devil.”

“Little surprise, as I did learn from one.” A proper smirk formed on Enver’s lips. “I do not know what you do remember, but I know that you heard my thoughts; or perhaps saw my memory rather, in the hall.”

The blood drained slightly from her face at being caught in her snooping. He’d made no indication at the time he was aware of her presence in his thoughts. Thinking on her feet, Feravel responded dismissively. “An illusion.”

Enver scoffed, his nose wrinkling in distain. “Unlike your little wizard plaything, illusions are not part of my repertoire.”

“A fantasy then.” Feravel snapped.

Enver let out a mirthless laugh. “I’ve never known you to delude yourself like this. Perhaps you are gone.”

“All I remember is death. Bloody, horrible death. This urge to perpetrate it that’s only barely within my control.” Gale’s concerned face as she came back to herself the night she’d almost killed him. Her own crushing guilt at the foul things she’d said. She could almost feel the burn of the ropes on her wrists. “A stain on my soul I will never wash away.”

Enver’s expression was unreadable and he seemed to have no inclination to speak. Pressure through silence, it seemed, but she did not give in at least not at first. As it dragged on, Feravel began to wonder if he was attempting to peer into her thoughts. She didn’t know if he knew such spells, but

“I didn’t know who you were until we reached the city… I saw the posters. Your face. It was familiar.”

She swallowed hard.

“I’d had dreams of a black haired man, but I never saw his face. I saw you and it just…fit? Like a shadow stepping into the light.”

“And these dreams were of what?” His shoulders were tense.

“What were we?”

“What were your dreams?”

They stared unflinchingly across the table at each other. Feravel wondered if it weren’t for the table between them if he’d reach for her again. Did she want him to? Uncertainty coursed through her. She gripped the edge of the table tightly.

“At first, I thought it was Gale I was dreaming of. We’d only just met, but I liked him. I quickly realized though, it couldn’t be him…”

Enver scowled at that. “Your pet wizard? Yes, I’ve heard of him, Mystra’s former chosen. He reached for something greater and failed. She was right to discard him. He’s not worthy of you.”

“It’s not your place to determine who’s worthy of me!”

“You are Bhaal’s chosen! A softhearted fool like that could never accept you.”

Feravel stood so quickly her chair was knocked to the floor.

“I am no one’s chosen and I am more than I was made to be!” She heaved a few deep breaths. Then she spoke again, far more calmly, staring intently at him. “I am my own person.”

“You were mine.”

Heatedly, Enver got to his feet, pushed back his chair and stalked toward her, but she could barely register his movements for his words held her rapt attention.

“I was yours.”

He cradled her cheek with a softness she would not have expected had she not experienced it before. Before? A forgotten memory triggered by his words began to unravel in her mind. It was incomplete and muddled, but the feelings it held were clear.

A calloused palm against her cheek. She leaned into it. Lips lightly brushed over her own, reverent. This was peace. Her place of rest. So long as she did father's will she could keep this -him. Even if one day, her father's will would lead her to murder Enver. A thing she once would've relished. Now seemed so impossible to execute. That was a problem for later though. For now, father knew Enver was useful. So long as she could continue to make use of him toward her father's aims, Enver was safe. Enver was hers.

It had not been long before her death. She could tell that much. And she suspected this moment to have been when her old self had realized she loved Enver.

“It was because of you.” Feravel concluded aloud.

Enver furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I wouldn’t have sacrificed you to Bhaal, had he asked it of me.” Feravel simply. “I doubt he planned to, but it seems knowing that I was unwilling to do so was enough.”

She let out a breathy laugh.

Then Enver was kissing her like a man dying of thirst and she was a spring in a desert. She was carried away by the intensity and familiarity of it so easily. Her fingers brushed tentatively along his jaw as she raised a hand to thread her fingers in his hair. It was just as fine and soft as in her dreams -except this was real. Enver was not a faceless shadow.

He let out a breath he must’ve been holding and drew her more firmly to him wrapping her tightly in his embrace. The way their lips moved and felt together was as natural as breathing. Her body yearned to surrender to him. There was no denying, Enver was telling the truth. This could not be manufactured, imitated or faked. The feelings his embrace elicited within her were not unlike how she felt for Gale. That worried her.

How easy would it be to stay here? Enver seemed to hold the key to so many of her lost memories. Just days ago she had been desperate still to know some semblance of who she was. Now, it was difficult to sort through what she wanted.

What a difference a day can make.

She was starting to feel choked up like she couldn’t breathe and her fingers slipped from Enver’s hair, running down his neck, over his shoulders to rest on his chest. Suddenly Feravel pulled back, but Enver didn’t allow her to go far -tightening his grip on her waist. Enver leaned his head against her’s as they caught their breath.

It took him a moment to realize there were tears running down her cheeks. So strange, he once thought he may never see her cry. Cautiously he wiped one away.

“Fera?” He said barely above a whisper.

With effort, she swallowed any further tears and looked up into his dark brown eyes which were so unlike Gale’s honey brown.

“I should thank you, I suppose.”

Enver furrowed his brow.

“Whatever we had, ultimately made me my own person. It was enough for Bhaal to abandon me.”

She wasn’t free by any means, but perhaps she could be. Killing Orin might be the key to free herself of father and the urge. Whether that meant her death or a life without the evil hiss in her ear, the devil on her shoulder, she didn’t know.

Enver leaned in again and brushed his lips against hers. It was just the faintest touch, but warmth spread through her from it. She could sense he was being cautious and deliberate now.

“I never told you.” He murmured lowly against her lips. Feravel kept still with anticipation. Her eyes closed, breathing steady, committing this moment to her memory. “There wasn’t a right moment, you understand? But I have to now.”

Love. He didn’t have to say it. Despite the broken thing she now was, he still loved her. Whatever he’d been searching for in his observations he’d examined her and had not found her wanting. To him, she was still somehow the same. An overwhelming prospect.

Feravel felt her heart in her throat. Just that morning, Gale had turned to her at the breakfast table and told her he loved her -just because as he often did. Then Astarion had to ruin the moment with an eye roll and a comment about toothaches which earned him a slug in the shoulder from Karlach. There was no one here to interrupt with banter, to ruin this moment though, only them.

She opened her eyes to find his face mere centimeters away.

“I…I can’t.”

Feravel tried to extricate herself from him, but he held her in place. His grip firm, but gentle he stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring deeply into her eyes. For a second, she almost wanted to lean back in, to erase her words.

“Why did you come?”

She furrowed her brow at him. What sort of question was that? He’d summoned her. But he didn’t give her time to answer before continuing.

“You should’ve known I wouldn’t have pursued or forced you here. Our matters are better left private. Causing a scene by dragging you before me would’ve brought scrutiny.“

“How pragmatic.” She said shortly.

He waved the comment away. “I would’ve been upset to be sure, but as I said before somethings are best handled discreetly. So why did you come?”

Silence hung thick between them. Feravel unwilling to utter a response and Enver unwilling to allow the question to pass. Their stalemate went on until Enver tired of her obstinance.

“You wandered the city all day instead of returning to your companions. Then you came to me. Could it be then that you feared their judgement? Or the judgement of one in particular.”

“What do you want from me?” She snapped.

“Are you so blind?” He released her, but didn’t withdraw. There was a tone of weariness in his voice. His guard was coming back up. “I do not take to heart this distraction you’ve taken in the wizard, but now you’re returned to me. You do not need to be burdened by the opinions of sheep.” He paused, then in a more business like tone. “I will provide for you anything you require to retake the cult of Bhaal or destroy it -whichever you choose.”

Feravel stared at him. Men of exceptional ambition. Was this her type? Two different lives she’d lived and yet. Despite their vast differences, she’d fallen for men who were not so terribly unalike as they first appeared.

“I-I have to go.”

Without giving him a chance to pull her back, Feravel nimbly twisted away, misty stepped to the rail and jumped -opening a dimension door below her as she fell. She didn’t see Enver race for the balcony to peer over the edge and only just catch a glimpse of her portal before it popped out of existence.

Frustration boiled in him at her disappearance, leaving him feeling exposed in a way he would never usually allow. He slammed his fist on the table to release some of the pent up emotion. She would be back he told himself. After disposing of Orin, she would return to him one way or another.

However, he’d known this was a possibility. He’d gambled with how much she could remember -allowing his emotions to take too much of the lead. It had been unlikely for her to agree to anything right away. She’d always had a will of her own and did still. Besides, he mused, it would’ve been unpalatably weak had she just crumpled, immediately abandoning her newfound compatriots. The lord Bane would not have been pleased with such an ally or companion for his chosen.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Sebek + Orange Rose please?

Sebek Zigvolt:

Orange Rose - experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person.

Sebek was flustered.

He swatted at your caring hands knowing you were the source of his discontent in the first place. Horseback riding had always been a way to clear his head, to set himself straight when his thoughts may wander while he was on duty. Even if it was a challenge to find a horse who could stand his booming voice, he had overcome the obstacle with great pride because nothing could stop him from being who he needed to be (AKA the best bodyguard for Malleus).

Yet how could he overcome an obstacle like you?

He supposed going back in time was unthinkable even with magic, since even the powerful Malleus couldn’t move the hands on a clock backwards. He thought maybe keeping a careful distance might work yet you were insistent on barging into his life, just like you did minutes before as an example.

Sebek had been riding along a quiet path, filled with a decent amount of shade from the plentiful green trees that hung over it in an almost protective gesture. It would allow him to bask in the pleasant outside air, a warm spring day that Sebek had looked forward to all winter. He didn’t choose this of his own accord as he disliked being away from Malleus for long periods of time but his master had disappeared after requesting solitude, leaving him with no choice but to train. He had even considered that he might run into Malleus back here due to how isolated it is and how rarely the path was used, a little daydream he had that unfortunately distracted him.

When you accidentally stepped into the horse’s path, emerging from the woods like a startled deer, Sebek cursed your name as he reared back in a desperate attempt to change direction. Saving you from a painful fate was less of a heroic scenario and more of a treacherous deal sealed with a handshake as he went flying from the horses back instead. He grunted as he landed hard in the brush, thankful that at least fate hadn’t sent him into thorny bushes, too.

“Sebek!” His name leaves your lips in such a frantic tone, one he can’t pin.

Was that from realizing the danger you were in, or for him who was hurt in your stead?

A zap of electricity shoots through him, the tingling in his chest remaining in the aftermath. He opened his mouth to loudly scold you for not paying attention to your surroundings; you couldn’t hear the hooves trampling dirt and rock a mile away? What if it had been some less skilled rider, or even worse, some type of predator set on sinking its teeth into you? He doesn’t know why the concept of you wounded with no one to protect you makes him feel anxious, but decided it’s easier to connect it to his natural protective instincts as a bodyguard.

“Don’t be stubborn!” You huffed as he stood, brushing himself off like he’d simply tripped. “At least let me heal up the little things!”

Sebek thought it’s a waste of both of your time (and your magic) to heal some measly scratches but he’s rendered speechless by you yet again as you removed his gloves with ease to touch the bare skin of his hands. Your magic required skin-on-skin contact and he knew this, so why did he suddenly become so aware of how intimate it felt to hold another’s hand?

A warmth spread from his hands to his entire body, your magic doing its work and perhaps something more. It’s a few blissful moments before you retract your hands, satisfied that he’s in perfect working order. You even smiled as you handed him back his riding gloves, and Sebek had to divert his eyes for a second to concentrate on slowing his rapidly beating heart.

“There you go! I know as Malleus’ bodyguard you wouldn’t want to look messy sooo…” You plucked a twig out of his hair, flicking it to the ground. “There! Handsome as ever!”

Sebek suddenly wished this place was more populated, that there was a chance of interruption as he had no idea what to say next. The polite thing would be to thank you for your help, or perhaps to go back to his original idea of scolding you for not paying attention, but for some reason he remained tongue tied. If he thought about it enough, he could remember the gentle feel of your hands, the way your brow furrowed as you concentrated on healing him quickly and efficiently, the sparkling smile as you admired your handiwork before you called him handsome—

Sebek suddenly felt very resigned to his fate, knowing that as long as you existed you would always invade his thoughts.