#this one is Ouchie <3 <3 <3 <3

[cosmictapestry]

C16? Can we get some suffering in this Chili’s tonight?

C16. safeword use

yes OF COURSE we can get some suffering

okay so i'm only using "safeword" as like, the trope name, because these guys don't use a safeword since neither of them are into that type of play. all their communication is explicit and implicit and never obfuscating.

additionally this makes use of a concept explored in my fic series we, divinity wherein damage to the dreaming (mass extinctions, genocides, general loss of hope on a wide scale, etc) hurts dream directly. "whump," as the kids say, but i think of it as Pure Horror

prompt list here

They are moving together, sensuous and slow, meeting one another thrust for thrust, skin sliding soft and hot and slick, breath humid and shallow in each other's space. His lips are swollen, parted, allowing the swipe of her tongue across his teeth, drawing blissful noises from him, rumbling purrs in his chest.

He fucks up into her, pulling her hips forward to meet him with a hand gripping her arse, the other hand clenched white-knuckled in the sheets. She runs her own hands up through his hair, holds him at the perfect angle to devour him, to slide her cheek against his when she pitches forward with the push of his cock inside her.

She feels Lord Morpheus duck his head further, bury it in the crook of her neck. His tears cool on her cheek, drop hot on her collarbone, and he heaves, stops moving his hips in favor of gripping her arse in both hands, grinding her up and forward, impaling her and punctuating each movement with a ragged, broken gasp.

Lucienne throws her head back, arches in his lap, slams herself down on him, moves sharp and snapping, feels him still completely, just holding her, not moving at all. She assumes he's coming, assumes everything is going well, even as his arms come up to wrap around her back, hold her close, press his skin all shivering and hot to her own.

She is getting close, burning, trembling, clenching, and she hears him say something. Reluctantly she slows, quiets her breathing, but he doesn't say anything more. "My lord?"

He shakes violently now. "Can we—" and he heaves a breath, sudden, crackling, nails sharp in her hips.

Lucienne slows even more, concern prickling at the back of her neck. "Morpheus—"

"Please stop," he whispers, hurt, tearful.

In one swift movement Lucienne pulls off him, tries to push him back to see his face, but he holds her fast and hides in her neck, and he whimpers like he thinks she's trying to leave. Lucienne, alight with panic, pulls him impossibly closer, one hand buried in his hair and the other arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Alright," she murmurs, "alright, that's fine, alright."

He's shaking apart, choking, clinging to her, every unneeded breath a tight, shivering sob. "Sorry," he manages, like it's important.

"None of that," Lucienne says, too quickly, and he flinches. She is struck by all-too-familiar fear that she will make everything worse, terror because it is so easy to frighten him. “It’s alright, my lord, I promise.”

He makes a sound, disbelieving, wretched, and he quakes.

“Was it something I did?” Lucienne asks, breathless with guilt.

Another sound, this time a vehement negative, punctuated by the way he shakes his head against her neck.

“Alright,” Lucienne breathes, and she pets his hair, and she tries to calm down for his sake, tries not to torture herself with warning signs she paid no notice to. “Just breathe, love, I have you.”

He does as she asks, he breathes, but he does not relax. "You don't. Need to stay," he says.

She closes her eyes. "What's wrong, Morpheus?"

Lord Morpheus does not answer quickly. Speaking at all seems difficult right now, the words jumbled in the chaos of everything else. "Hurts," he whispers, and then flinches, and he tucks his head in closer.

"Alright," she says. She understands, suddenly, can feel the creeping cold of the realm moving through her being, the echoes of a wound he cannot contain within himself. It's been millennia since she's seen him bow this way under injury. Pain made all the more intolerable in the midst of pleasure. "I've got you, I'm right here."

"You don't have to be," he gasps. "This is not—" He cuts himself off, leases breath harsh against her skin between holding it, like he's trying not to scream, tense and trembling like he's trying to push all the broken-glass parts of himself back into their prison. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Lucienne gulps in a breath, feels it rattle with the tears building from her chest. "Please stop apologizing," she kisses the top of his head, turns her cheek into his hair, tries in vain to settle his shivering tension with soft pressure, safe sensation. "I want to be here. I always want to be here."

"I don't understand you," he spits, suddenly venomous, suddenly enraged even with his arms gentle around her waist. "This cannot be what you want. No one is so patient, no one can be. You're lying. You're waiting for something—"

"Stop that," she whispers to him. "Don't do that. I'm not leaving."

"Why?" he sobs, devastated again. "I have nothing for you. This is all you ask of me and I cannot even—"

"This is all I ask of you," she insists, and she kisses his hair again and again. "My king, my lord, my love."

He melts into her, finally, turns his face against her chest, all agony in the wake of some tragedy she will read about in her library tomorrow. He shivers and he cries, silently, while the pervasive wrongness and chill sinks into the foundation of the Dreaming and then becomes part of it, undetectable. He folds it up inside him, painstakingly, and he clings to her through it.

"How often does this happen, my lord?" Lucienne asks, when his breathless sobs subside enough that she thinks he'll be able to answer. "While we are intimate, I mean."

His voice is raw, apologetic and bitter when he finally manages to speak. "I cannot help it."

"No, I—" she squeezes her eyes shut again, runs her hand in broad circles over the smooth expanse of her back. "I know. I know. I just—my lord, you can always say no, we can always slow down or stop or—I'm never going to be angry with you. Please tell me you understand that."

He kisses along her collarbone, like he's trying to distract her, or just thinking through his response. "I do," he croaks. "I do. You must understand..." her lord's shoulders heave. "This is never. I am never. Free of this."

Lucienne does understand this. Of course she does. She understands it better than anyone else. She just hates it, hates it so much it's a physical presence in the pit of her stomach, this agony for him, this rage at the unfairness of the universe from its primordial beginnings. "If you cannot let me help you, at least don't let me make it worse."

"All you do is help," he responds, the quickest he's managed to speak all night. "You are kind, and you wait for me. You wait for me even when you are so lonely you want to scream just so someone will ask you what's wrong." Another heavy, breathless pause. "I don't know how you do it. Or why."

"It's not so hard," Lucienne murmurs into his hair. He so rarely speak about how he experiences her, how she appears to him in all his inconceivable perception. "And I love you. You are my dearest friend, and I love you."

He says nothing more, drained and reeling from a blow that he does not let touch her. Tomorrow she will figure out what the damage was, so she might find words to soothe him—or so she might say nothing at all, and she might just hold him through the night.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

world's longest staring contest GO-

[malinastharlock]

+3 hole-e damage

[uhohdad]

Drabble requests?? If you would be so kind to humor me then-

Could there be like... soft and kind könig? Maybe just really gentle and domestic cause a while back i saw someone make headcanons of him being like a really mean guy and like all to them for sure!

But I was having a bit of a bad delusional day and könig is one of my attachments and seeing it made me so so sad and a bit paranoid cause like! Thats my partner! He wouldn't be like that!

So uh. Maybe just really soft comforting könig? If thats ok? Cause despite it being a few days now I still can't shake it and I feel bad over it :( hes such a silly but really good comfort for me. Big Austrian man ♡

Anyway if its no trouble then thank you! If not then its alright! Take care ok? ♡♡♡

for you my sweet beautiful anon? anything. i know könig would treat you like his liege ♡

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Köni💕: ‘How s work?’

Liebling: ‘:(‘

Köni💕: ‘o no, what happenbed?’

Liebling: ‘nothing. just nervous and weird. per usual lmao. 🙃’

Köni💕: ‘ill make u feel better when u get home’

Liebling: ‘:’)’

The aroma hits like a wave as you push the front door open, your mouth watering and tummy grumbling at the smell alone.

“Meine Prinzessin,” König calls as you set your bags down with a heavy thunk, “Did your day get better?”

“Just now,” You say, palm flush with the wall to support yourself as you kick off your shoes, “Whatever you’re doing in there, it’s art.”

“Your favorite,” he says proudly, a bit of a tune in his tone.

A giddy, mischievous giggle leaves you.

“Comfy clothes on the bed,” He adds.

You give a soft little whine, because it’s just too sickeningly sweet how he dotes on you.

After changed and settled, he’ll serve you your plate, listening intently as you vent about all the little things that have been bothering you lately.

“And, I don’t know. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t-”

You sigh before continuing, “Sometimes I have this stupid voice in my brain, and it just tells me that you don’t actually like me, and I’m just not good enough for you. I know it’s not true, but it still gets to me, sometimes. Y’know?”

You look at him, faced pinched and a hand rubbing the back of your neck.

“I have the same stupid voice,” He says, those hooded blue eyes trained carefully in you, “But know little one, I love you more than anything.”

You pinch your nose at him, but you still have to fold your smile, cheeks warm and bunched.

“I love you more than anything, too,” You say sheepishly to your plate, tone soft as your fork absentmindedly plays with your food.

Once tummies are full and plates cleared away, König herds you to the couch, draping you with a cozy blanket. He fixes you a tea before joining you, happily letting you rest your head on his thigh. He’ll tolerate your silly little comfort movie without complaint, stroking your hair, playing with the soft locks. He doesn’t dare move after you ensnare him by falling asleep, snoring softly into his leg long after your half-drunk tea has gone cold. ♡

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

♡gentle!könig

[endlesslytired]

stellaron hunter and astral express crossing over!

forgor to add but, previous post.

bonus, cross universe moment

[tavysboy]

i am going to create an au that is so niche no one can stop me

[1796samuel-seabury1729]

YEEEEEOWCHHHHHHH

[inafieldofdaisies]

OCs as tragic love archetypes | uquiz | tagged by @adelaidedrubman @corvosattano and @simplegenius042

CUPID'S BROTHER: You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

CANíBALES/DEVOURER: Love's a knife to skin to you, a vein to woven muscle, blood puddle before you. You listened to all the promises of a stranger's relief and feel the drain of a shower head running it all down again. You committed another murder; kissed and bruised skin with a clench to a quivering wrist and went home in the defeaning quiet of a taxi. There's mold covered rage within you. If to take a heart home with you, you'd bite your way through muscle and ribcage first. Pleasure comes, but there will be no devouring past it. There is fear in settling down and being seen. There is a glass screen between these bodies and you. Relax your tight jaw and feel the real canine fear beneath that scabbed up cavity. The sacrifice of opening up is needed if to be loved as you deeply wish inside. Desire doesn't discriminate between hands or spoken word. Why should you?

If this isn't perfect for Mer, and sacrifice being mentioned ☠️

SUB ROSA: Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

LESLIE. Goddamn, he is at it again.

MAUDLIN MAGDALENE: An embrace with the shivering figure of a ghost. You cut your hair at 3 a.m. to change it all but it is no use. Love is a war to endure to you. You comfort and hold, kiss pressed to temple and cheek while feeling the numbness filling your nights to brim. What used to feel honorable has now become chore of breathing to sustain another. What else is love, but your disembodied lap to lay another's head into? Your fingers turn blue in the announcing dawn, the cold figure of what you used to know of yourself remains asleep next to them. Another version of you has crept out of your old body, has ripped and eaten itself out of a cast that was fused into the position of nurturing comfort. Remove yourself from your lovers before they become part of you, conjoined with your arms to anothers wailing head you have no life apart of maudlin magdalene. You have given endlessly, but this isn't all there is to you. Acknowledge the good that has been done and let yourself be free. You deserve to feel held as well, you are more than what you can give of yourself before breaking down.

FATHER'S SON: Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

Torn about this one, like pretty boy has a ton of guilt from his past, but the violence isn't something he faced prior to [redacted], esp in his family. He'd argue he's not his father's son, actually.

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @josephseedismyfather @florbelles @direwombat @cassietrn @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @madparadoxum @unholymilf @carlosoliveiraa @harmonyowl @nightbloodbix @macs-babies @shellibisshe @onehornedbeast @euryalex @clicheantagonist @g0dspeeed and anyone that would like to do the uquiz for their ocs <3

[istherewifiinhell]

16 min rideeee. Break 4min break in the middle on a bench looking at a great view. Wannnnted to go longer but felt real wobbly on it and like. Safety first bitch

[musedriven]

Good news bad news time. Good news! I might have cleared up part of my schedule for a bit! Bad news! It’s bc I am in fact injured and not doing great with it lol.

[josephslittledeputy]

To try and get outta my writing slump I started writing stuff for Lacy and well,,,, when y'all find out who's on the other line 👀 girl has all the right or wrong?? connections...

Shifting her position so she wasn’t slumped in the bath, she instead leans an arm on the side of the tub and sets her chin on the damp skin. “You may enter.” The door opens just a sliver, not enough for whoever is disturbing her peace to see anything untoward, and a meek voice slips through. “Pardon the intrusion, ma’am, but you have a phone call on line one.” “Very well. Put them on hold for now.” “Yes, ma’am.”

[dnprenaissance]

two messages in three days from two separate people and at this point i really do have to wonder if it’s me because. like what the fuck.

[fraseris]

music is insane because as soon as you stop listening to a song or album or playlist all of that will be permanently attached to whatever era of ur life you were listening to it in. the only way to steal it back from your past self is to listen to it so much that you power through the nostalgia and then its also representative of that new era

[medusuhhh-dude]

Wake up babe its time for your daily baldurs gate companion

[vanillabat99]

I finally got my nipples pierced!! Been thinking about it for a little while and my mom paid for it as a birthday present!!! I'm so happy with how they look :3

[vaguely-annoyed]

(writes for a considerate amount of hours with only a few rests sprinkled in between) aw man, i wonder why my arm hurts. it's a mystery :(