Jordan Parrish

Indie & Selective Jordan Parrish from the show 'Teen Wolf'. Read guidelines before interacting. You wanted a Hellhound? Crossover Friendly. Mutuals OnlyYou got one tracking: #ofburningeyes

[whatthehellisahoechlin]

parrish week - day six

Anyone can look young if they eat right and exercise. Although it’s probably just good genes.

[ofburningeyes]

[ofburningeyes]

cerisetheai :

 ❪   ❛   i’ll   meet   you   at   the   station   !   ❜   ❫   it   was   funny   how   a   simple   task   could   compare   to   being   dragged   to   HELL   &&   back   —   even   traversing   the   few   blocks   to   the   raccoon   city   police   station   was   something   of   an   ordeal   ,   the   remnants   of   vehicles   up   in   flames   ,   &&   the   torrential   downpour   that   she’s   almost   certain   has   managed   to   make   it’s   way   deep   into   her   bones.   &&   the   people   ,   those   things   —   empty   gazes   that   indicate   there   was   once   some   semblance   of   humanity   ,   teeth   ready   to   pierce   through   flesh   ,   causing   the   ranks   of   the   undead   to   grow   by   the   hour.

 the   sodden   asphalt   splashes   beneath   her   boots   as   she   hurries   onward   ,   the   abrupt   sound   of   gunfire   prompting   her   head   to   snap   over   in   the   direction   from   whence   it   came.   zombies   couldn’t   fire   a   gun   —   other   survivors   ?   a   cop   ,   or   what   she   assumes   to   be   one   ,   &&   an   advancing   horde   of   the   undead.   even   though   they   were   few   &&   far   between   ,   she’s   relieved   that   some   citizens   have   managed   to   survive   the   initial   CARNAGE   —   so   banding   together   to   fight   was   only   the   right   thing   to   do   ,   which   is   why   she   fires   a   shot   into   the   skull   of   a   zombie   approaching   him   from   behind  ,   his   would   be   attacker   crumpling   down   into   a   bloody   heap.   this   was   going   to   be   a   long   night.   ❛   looks   like   you   could   use   some   help   —   quickly   ,   we   can’t   stay   here   !   ❜

For a moment – Jordan assumed that this would be the end. Devoured by those things, the dead that walked like mindless drones, moved by their most basic of instincts: the need to feed. Maybe this was it. He would die on the line of duty, just like he had sworn to do the day he joined the Force. At least, the civilians were safe. They were indoors and if they were quick, they could shut down the windows and barricade the doors. They could hold their ground while hiding, at least until some help would come. There would be help, right? Something like this couldn’t go unnoticed.

And as the horde approached, he prepared himself for the worse. If he was going to die, he would go down swinging for the fences, taking as many as those bastards as he could. The only thing that brought some sense of grief was the fact that he wouldn’t be around to help the other survivors. But maybe help would come. Maybe they would find a way out of the city. Maybe they could tell others what happened and the people who died that day… they could be avenged. The responsible would be punished… unless this was God’s ultimate prank of an Armageddon.

His finger was ready to shoot when the sound of another gun firing startled him, gun aimed to the body who now crashed lifeless into a puddle of cold water. A woman came from behind it, armed and most certainly alive – which was saying something considering their new… ‘friends’. “Thanks.” There was a split second where Jordan actually smiled, ignoring the circumstances, the cold water that continued to fall from the dark skies above their heads. “There’s survivors inside the gun shop.” Another shot. This time between the eyes of another undead. As last days at the work went – this was not what he had in mind. “If we can find the back windows before they block them, we might be able to get inside.” The rain seemed heavier. The growls and grunts seemed closer, the explosions sounded louder. “We have to make a run for it. Are you ready?”

[ofburningeyes]

fadingobjectrp :

“I’m Ben Ulrich,” He said, staring at the other’s hand for a couple of seconds, unsure about taking it since that would mean having to put the papers he had in his hand between his arm and losing the page where he was, but then he realized that not taking it would be rude and he didn’t want to give the pretty cop a bad picture of himself, in case he needed his services another time. “Nice to meet you, deputy,” he said, taking the other’s hand in a formal greeting after taking the papers with his teeth since that was the only thing he thought off. 

“About the cameras… They have a couple around the room but they stopped working long ago, they are just for appearance,” He said, the library was a medium-sized space, a little old and dusty for aesthetics, this was a place where the true readers would feel comfortable or at least that was what the man that hired him told him, but that also meant that a lot of the stuff there was very old. “And I’m going to be honest with you, we only hired you because the author that is coming is crazy and thinks that his fans are going to kill him so you are just here so he can be calm, your job is to stand next to him while he signs books, that’s all,” Ben said before checking his watch for the fourth time. 

 “Follow me, let me show you where you have to stand and then I’ll show you the part of the back where you can find a gift bag for you to take once you are done and some snacks in case you get hungry,” The planner said, looking up from his papers to smile at the other before walking to the center of the library where there was a big sign of the author with a little picture of the book in the left corner, to its right a table with a gold tablecloth. “And I don’t look pale, that’s my natural skin tone,” He said, hoping not to be wrong about that because he couldn’t feel sick today, “Thanks for worrying but I’ll have plenty of time to breath once this is over,” He said, reaching the table, moving behind it and pointing to the right side of the table, counting 5 steeps behind in his head before speaking again: “This is where you’ll be”.

Truth be told – never once Jordan had expected a book signing to be this… CHAOTIC. Not only due to the fact that the writer seemed obviously paranoid but there was always a lot of work taking place behind the scenes. Schedules that required to be met with surgical precision, a list of people invited to the party, making sure that everyone had a good time, no one would leave pissed – that they had a chance to meet the writer and fawn over him, maybe even take a picture or two if they were indeed incredibly lucky. Who was the writer supposed to be? Stephen King? Some other big name shot? Wow… it was actually embarrassing to act as a security guard to a man he probably didn’t know who he was.

Awkward.

“The cameras being just for the show tends to work the majority of the times.” And with such a somewhat reduced space, with the exit doors covered from a good angle and the only way in and out being the entrance… besides – what could go wrong with a book signing? Some hardcore fan that would pull off a gun because the writer didn’t name the main character after them? Or because he killed their favorite in a scene that drove them insane? It was probably not for the best to think about that. Or even voice his paranoid thoughts on the matter. There was enough crazy in the world as it was without having to worry about some demented reader that wanted to put a bullet on someone over a fictional character.

Pressing his lips together as he approached the place he was supposed to guard – probably merely being present was enough to make any degenerates think twice – Jordan locked his thumbs on his belt and gave a quick yet reassuring nod to Ben Ulrich, who definitely looked like he was on the verge of a damn meltdown. And all because of a book signing. That showed how much he knew about the literary world. “I can have a snack once I’m done here. I already ate before arriving.” Not like he could afford distractions when his job was to guard someone’s back. “I only have one final question. Well – two actually. If the writer moves, I’m supposed to be his shadow, right? I can do that.” With the limited space, he could easily follow the main guest around without being too much of a bother. “And second… who am I protecting again? I saw the book cover outside but I didn’t…” Awkward. “Pay that much attention. I am so sorry…”

[sailor-usakos]

you are not heads or tails; you are the coin.

[ilovemarrish]

[ofburningeyes]

ilovemarrish :

parrish meme → [1/3] outfits

[ryankelleysource]

[ofburningeyes]

@cerisetheai liked for a starter!!

Racoon City.

It started to be just like any other day. People going to their jobs, children laughing and playing together, a nice and seemingly warm day. The perfect type of day for him to collect his transfer papers before moving to a much quieter town called Beacon Hills. All the goodbyes had been shared, contacts swapped – the whole nine yards. Truth be told, Jordan would miss the chaotic pace of the city… but sometimes it was ok to move somewhere quieter. Maybe even pursue a career. Who knew?

But that was then. And this was now.

It was raining. Heavily. Lightning tearing the skies apart with the same impact as the explosion of a nearby vehicle made the entire floor tremble. It was a quiet morning… of what felt to be months ago. Never before Jordan would expect his last day on Racoon City to end up like this. Shooting people he once knew in the head as they seemed to rise from the dead. No one knew how everything started. Reports were… crazy. Some guy bites another one and… the dead walked? What was happening The dead didn’t walk, did they?

“Get back!” His finger pressed the trigger of his gun as he shot another woman – or what seemed to be a woman – on her kneecap. She continued to advance, growling and producing sounds that were far from human. “Get inside and find something to barricade the windows!” Between his shots, the rain and the thunder, Jordan doubted some of the survivors he picked along the way listened. “Just do it! Lock the door behind you. Just do it!” The next shot hit the woman in the head. Her body fell to the wet concrete floor like a marionette who had their strings cut. She was someone’s daughter. Someone’s wife. Someone’s mother…

And he had killed her.

[ofburningeyes]

bsaacaptain :

It was the biggest cliché a person could think of: a long abandoned hospital brought back to life by somebody with a lot of money, bioweapons, and zero sense. The atmosphere alone was enough to strike fear into one’s heart, and set that little vestigial part of your brain that was more lizard than human to skittering. Chris’ skin wanted to crawl off of his body and slink into the pooling shadows.

The nervousness of his partner wasn’t helping. Redfield moved, made sure the other man could see it was just his captain, and Chris brought his hand down on Jordan’s shoulder, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze.

“ Parrish. ” The captain’s voice was quiet, but it slashed through the dirty black air like a finely honed blade. This very well could be a trap. Hell, at this point, Chris would be surprised if they made it out of here alive. Splitting up had been a mistake, and he was just waiting to hear the distant, hopeless screams of his dying men from the other side of the facility. Still – he was a leader. Had a job to do. And keeping Jordan calm was part of that. A scared man was an irrational man.

“ Ease up, ” he commanded, moving forward with his rifle held high, its flashlight doing little to keep the heavy darkness at bay…

Almost as if on cue, something detached itself from the shadows. It shuffled into the beam emitted by the captain’s rifle, and moaned softly. The zombie stumbled forward, arms outstretched, and Chris cussed under his breath before firing off a single succession of shots that downed the undead man.

“ We keep moving, ” he decided. The corpse earned not even the slightest of second glances as the captain stepped by it. “ Eyes open. You and I both know something’s fucked here, but we’ve still got a job to do. ”

Clear out any hostiles, gather information on the group behind whatever was going on in the hospital. The clean up crew would take samples from any of the B.O.W.s they encountered, which seemed inevitable at this point. Where there was smoke, there was fire; where there were zombies, there was something bigger and badder.

Jordan knew better than to let his nerves and primordial fear to creep in. He knew what he was getting into when he enlisted for the BSAA. But one thing was facing those things out there in the open. They had room to move, they could bait and duck and their chances of survival were far higher than this. Because no one wanted to be caught between a dead-end and flesh-eating monsters. The stuff made of nightmares that children often asked their parents to check under their bed before sleep. Those were truly the simpler times – but the monsters were not hidden under a bed, but creeping in the shadows. Moving in their mindless pattern, searching for food.

Chris’s hand on his shoulder was so sudden that Jordan almost let out a curse – but as quickly as the scare came, the fear that clouded his judgment seemed to dissipate. Like a fog under a strong breeze. There was just something about his Captain’s voice that eased his mind. A good quality for a leader. Grounding him and bringing him back to the present rather than allow the fears to take form. No one needed a paranoid soldier when there were lives on the line. The last thing he should to was to allow himself to succumb to paranoia. If that were to happen… well, they were all as good as dead.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Swallowing the lump on his throat, Jordan licked his lips and secured his grip around his gun and flashlight once more. In and out. They could do this. Move fast, stick together – get the hell out of dodge before the proverbial shit would hit the fan. And if Chris told him to ease up, he would – following his Captain like a shadow, keeping all of his senses on alert while watching their six. Chris would lead, clear the path, he would make sure nothing would sneak up from behind. Steady paces – matching the now even sound of his heart pumping against his ribcage. Get it together, Parrish... They got this. They were trained for this. And if his Captain believed in their success, so would he.

For Chris Redfield was the type of leader that would make soldiers follow him to hell and back.

As the first wave of shots came, Jordan glanced over his shoulder. The lifeless corpse was now on the ground, the fetid and inhuman face a mask of horror and nightmare. Maybe a couple of years back he would throw up in his own mouth at the sight… But being susceptible to weird things was not exactly a trait the BSAA was searching for when he was recruited. “I could leave a trail of bombs, Sir.” One at each end, slowly covering their tracks as they moved. And the more they moved, the more the shadows seemed to follow, like a dark demon curious to see their path. “I have enough C-4 on my bag to send this place to hell and everything on it.” Better safe than sorry when it came to those things. It wasn’t just a nicely put shot to the head or a shower of bullets that could bring them down. A warm ball of fire would do just as nicely.

“According to the maps on the wall…” Jordan turned the flashlight to the dark end of the corridor to make sure they weren’t being followed before turning the beam to the map, his gloved index finger drawing an almost straight path to their ‘supposed’ goal. “The file rooms are supposed to be located two floors below. The one under us is the laboratories…” Where nothing good ever happened, “And then we have a whole floor with the file rooms… and the fucking morgue.”

[ofburningeyes]

dcrkpictures :

( @ofburningeyes​ )

“You going to stand around all day, Private? We have a job to do now let’s get moving.” Piers uttered down the comms, his eyes focused through the scopes of his binoculars as he looked towards the testing range that one of the new recruits we training in. It was part of his job, when not on assignment, to help train up the new agents and it was Jordan’s turn at the little exercise of planting a bomb. The current record was just under 3 minutes, a time no one had ever broken since it happened 4 months prior. “The time will start the moment you enter the first room. Good luck.”

Defusing bombs. Making bombs. It had been his specialty back in recruit – and while Jordan was not the type of man to be vain, he knew he was good at what he did. But that was before joining the BSAA. Before being tossed to the wolves, his success or failure pretty much determining his future within the unit. If he did a good job? He would work side by side with the likes of Piers Nivans and Chris Redfield, heroes on their own right. If he failed? Well… Failure was not really an option now, was it. Jordan inhaled sharply, fingers reaching his comm device. “Sir, yes sir.” Time started the moment he entered the first room. Got it.

And so he ran. Rushed like a lightning bolt towards the first door, crouching by the entrance and using a small camera device past under the door. It didn’t seem trapped. Nothing on the handle too. No pressure plates connected to the fringes. Everyone knew doors could be equipped with explosives. He didn’t want his first attempt to be his last. Pulling the camera, Jordan did his best not to think about the time. Just… do his best. Enter the room, defuse the bomb. Whether he could do it under three minutes, that would be Piers’ call.

“Here we go…”

And so he entered.

[ofburningeyes]

dcrkpictures :

Parties weren’t exactly a new thing for Brad. Ever since he joined the university, he was practically at a party nearly every night. Not literally but it certainly felt like it. He rarely missed any that were happening. The only times he had were only recently when he promised Jordan that he would stay in his dorm and study and not go to them. He needed a level head and beer was bad for that. Then again, after he did study, he sometimes got a little drunk in his dorm room as a mini celebration that he did something.

With the party starting to get ready, a few on the other attendees had arrived early to just start drinking early, cause really, whenever you say a time for a party, normally people show up early. Brad was finishing slipping a shirt on when he heard the vibration of his phone on his desk. Picking it up, he looked the text over and smiled.

[ text: the tutor ]: yes, jordy. I still want you to come but as I said, it’s your choice. I’m not pressuring you. [ text: the tutor ]: thanks. I couldn’t have done it without your help. Who knew I those sorta smarts in me.  [ text: the tutor ]: cya soon ;)

The red head lifted up his aftershave and sprayed himself with it. He had had a shower not long ago, so it really was just the finishing touches now. How much was he gonna drink tonight and was he gonna get someone into bed? Those were questions he didn’t yet have an answer to.

After several moments of hesitation – there he was. Standing before Brad’s dorm room, hearing the music already blasting inside and the laughs of those already partying or at least, attempting to get the party started. Jordan chewed his inner cheek, adjusting his leather jacket for the fifth time that night and wondering if he was… well decent. Not like Brad told him that he needed a specific outfit so he could use whatever he deemed comfortable. Was the leather jacket too much? He could always take it off if the temperature rose or if he needed a bit more room to move and not feel constricted by the long sleeves.

“Chill now.” Knuckles brushed on the door and Jordan knocked twice. The music continued and the laughter seemed to grow on volume. He was definitely not making himself heard by just knocking on the door. Would the doorbell be of any use? Would everyone even pay attention to it? Scratching the back of his neck, Jordan closed his eyes and took a couple of seconds to control his breathing, seeking to banish some of the growing anxiety that seemed to kick him in the stomach harder than before. It was just a party. A party that also happened to be very important to Brad. What could go wrong in one party?

The best thing he could come up with was… well, letting Brad know that he was there. No harm, no foul, right?

[ txt; Bradster ]: Knock Knock.

[ofburningeyes]

@bsaacaptain​ gets a starter!!

“Captain.”

His grip on his gun was stronger than before. Knuckles turned white with the pressure as a cold drop of sweat rolled down his temple, vanishing against the fabric of his uniform. This was definitely not how things were supposed to go. Dividing the team into two had been a good idea but with their signal being blocked by the thick and dark concrete walls… well, that sort of made everyone isolated. Jordan wetted his lips and poked his head around the corner, green eyes reflecting the ever growing fear that seemed to consume his heart.

They were not alone there. The empty medical rooms, the lack of bodies – everything was too damn quiet. Too quiet. It if wasn’t for the sound of their breathing and the random drops of water falling from an empty pipe on the ceiling to the filthy floor – they would be immersed in the most deafening silence, only broken by the occasional static of their radios. “I don’t like this.” Jordan truly didn’t like that one bit. It smelled like a trap – like the whole mission was nothing more than a fucking set-up to get them all dead and torn to pieces. And with nothing but darkness ahead of them? If this was a horror movie, that was the part where the killer would pounce from the shadows and turn them both into kebab.

“Do we wait or shall we move, Sir?” Both of the options had a low survival rate. Either wait to be killed or go straight to the lion’s den. “Isn’t blowing this place sky high an option yet, Sir?”

[ofburningeyes]

STARTERS FOR QUIET MUSES

@fangsforhire​ said: 'Why should I trust you?'

“And why shouldn’t you?”

Maybe the other man had his own reasons not to trust others – that was his born giving right. But there were moments in one’s life where TRUSTING others was imperative. Whether it was due to loneliness, some ulterior motive or some big event that potentially threatened the entire world. Whatever the reason was, it was up to everyone to determine whether or not they should trust someone. And right now – the question had been tossed around like a ping-pong ball.

“I never gave you reasons not to trust me. I’m a deputy, you know? I swore to protect and serve. All I want to do is the right thing.” Not to mention a certain temperamental hound that could also burn things down to cinders. “I have no doubts that if I wasn’t trustworthy, you have killed me by now.” Or attempted to, at the very least. “Yet, here I stand. Here we stand. Look into my eyes. Do I look like the type of person that would betray you? We are on the same side. It’s not a matter of ‘us versus them’ but a matter of balance. If we don’t trust one another, in who will we trust?”

[ofburningeyes]

STARTERS FOR QUIET MUSES

@fangsforhire​ said: [ Sit. ]

[ sit ] for your muse to quietly sit by mine

The Supernatural world still held many secrets to him – secrets that Jordan wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to see revealed. There was always something in the air around him – the air thick and stagnate. Enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck to stand every now and then. Jordan liked to keep an open mind but there were things that he still didn’t quite understand. All he knew was that the Supernatural was needed to be kept a secret. That humans would freak out if they knew about the creatures that lived amongst them. Some harmless and some dangerous. In the end, they would all see that mystical world as a threat. A threat to be contained, to be destroyed – or to turn into a weapon at the service of greedy power-hungry individuals.

The Hellhound would not let that happen, no matter the consequences that would follow. And that was where the duality began. While Jordan only wanted to do what he swore to do – to protect and serve – the immortal beast residing within him had other plans. To do what it had to do, no matter the wave of burning chaos that would bring along with him. The secret needed to be kept at all costs. The world could never know the true extent of what the Supernatural was capable of. So whenever a person or even a group was close to discover the truth… he was there. To hide the evidence, to probably slaughter those that knew too much. The burden of a man and the goal of a Harbinger of Death.

That night was no different. Sitting at a bar and looking down at the half-empty bottle of beer, Jordan could catch the myriad of scents around him. From the smoke from the cigarettes to the cheap cologne of the bikers wanting to impress the chicks. To the exasperation of the small bartender behind the counter that didn’t quite know how to handle the clientele that seemed to grow by the minute. But there was a new scent there. One that made his entire body tense, his jaw clenching and a shiver running down his spine like electricity. Something that made the Hellhound restless, wanting – almost demanding – to take control.

The man sat beside him in silence. Not once they shared a word not even a gaze. Sitting side by side at the counter – all the sounds from the bar being placed in the back. Nothing but weak and measly sounds. Just the sound of the other man’s breathing and heart beating echoing on his mind. Steady. Controlled. Something that made Jordan feel almost as restless as the hound that struggled even harder to come out. Which posed the question. Not spoken loud enough for everyone to hear but in the form of a whisper. Somehow… Jordan knew the other man would be able to hear him.

“What are you?”

[ofburningeyes]

[fadingobjectrp]

Ben was a little stressed thanks to the big event he had. It wasn’t exactly his but he was helping the owner of a library plan a launch for a big book, this kind of event was usually easy but the author was a paranoic one, one of those that make everything more complicated requesting special security for him, a service that he didn’t really offer which forced him to request a police officer and deal with that area that is famous for not really helping. 

“Are you the guy that is going to help us today?” Benjamin asked the guy in the uniform, which made him feel like an idiot but all the stress didn’t allow him to think. “Of course you are, why would you be wearing a uniform if you aren’t?” He answered his own question, studying the other’s body and starting to think that maybe he was a stripper because of how fit he was, but he pushed that thought at the urgency of the moment. 

“Let me walk you through it, the event starts in three hours which gives me–” He checked his watch “an hour to show you the place, all the emergency exits and the authors schedule… Do you have any questions before we start?” He asked, looking up to meet Jordan’s face, a face he hoped to see in a different context.

[ofburningeyes]

Being a security guard at some kind of posh-like even at a library was not… exactly what Jordan had in mind when he learned that his presence had been requested on the field. Well – not really requested but more like dumped on his lap since everyone else discarded that option the moment they received it, which meant that he had picked the short end of the stick. It was not the ideal work, really. Stand around and make sure no crazy people would try anything stupid at a party was hardly a police job… but it was a job nevertheless. It wasn’t desk duty ( something that bored the hell out of him ) and after the Sheriff actually promised that if he did that – someone else would do his own desk duty and reports, it was pretty easy to accept.

Jordan just hoped it was a good idea and not just stand there and looking pretty while everyone else had fun. Why not hire a professional security team for the event? Were they low on funds? Call it a service to the people. Do his job as a deputy, protect and serve and all that. How crazy could a book launch get? It would be nothing more than people sipping the bubbles and talking about how big their brains were and how the book was incredible and maybe get a picture or two with the author along a signed copy. There were worst jobs, right? Like desk duty. Securing a book launch definitely beat desk duty.

“Deputy Parrish.” Jordan offered his hand to the other man, his eyebrows arching slightly upwards as he could see the stress plastered on the other’s face. One’s party was another’s stress. Especially since if anything went wrong – that guy would probably be on the chopping block. “Do you have security cameras in all the exits?” That would make his job a lot easier. Maybe find the control room and proceed to inform the guys behind the monitors to inform him of every suspicious activity. “And where am I supposed to be? Shall I check people at the entrance? Do I make rounds?” Should he just stay hidden and approach only if necessary? While some people liked to know there was security – they didn’t exactly require the officers to flaunt their badges. And then there were those that liked to keep their security personnel close in case someone would get a bit… too physical. “You look a bit pale. Have you considered taking deep breaths?”

[leneemusing]

STARTERS FOR QUIET MUSES

note: actions are from the receiver’s pov. send ‘reverse’ to change perspective GENERAL: [ sit ] for your muse to quietly sit by mine [ lay ] for your muse to come rest their head in mine’s lap or against their shoulder [ need ] for your muse to come to mine for help  [ want ] for your muse to show up in mine’s room in the middle of the night [ shower ] for our muses to bathe together [ flower ] for our muses to grow something together [ peak ] for your muse to teasingly sneak up on mine and put their hands over mine’s eyes  [ hike ]  for my muse to take yours hand and lead them somewhere [ sleep ] for our muses to wake up in the same bed  [ caress ] for your muse to hug mine without explanation  [ kiss ] for my muse to kiss yours forehead [ assist ] for your muse to help mine with their appearance (braiding hair, fixing tie etc) [ first ] for our muses first kiss [ hurt ] for your muse to find mine injured [ heal ] for my muse to treat yours injury  [ scream ] for our muses to find something horrific  [ body ] for our muses to stumble on a crime scene [ martyr ] for my muse to die/almost die for yours [ sob ] for my muse to open up about a traumatic experience  [ share ] for our muses to share something for survival (food, water, body warmth, clothing etc) NSFW: 1. for your muse to give mine oral  2. for my muse to finger yours  3. for your muse to top mine  4. for your muse to pull mine’s hair  5. for your muse to tie mine up  6. for our muses to have drunk sex  7. for the morning after a one night stand 8. for my muse to wake yours up with sex 9. for my muse to spank yours 10. for your muse to tease mine/withhold orgasm 

WORDS:  “  stop.  ” “  please.  ” “  i want you here.  ” “  i don’t know how to talk about it.  ” “  we can just sit here, you don’t have to talk.  ” “  you can trust me.  ” “  please, trust me.  ” “  just talk to me, please.  ” “  i love you.  ” “  i hate you.  ” “  will you stay with me? just for tonight.  ” “  i don’t want to sleep alone.  ” “  i’ll stay.  ” “  stay.  ” “  just go.  ” “  i don’t know how to ask for help.  ” “  tell me something good.  ” “  i like seeing you smile.  ” “  you make me feel safe.  ” “  help me.  ” “  you’re safe with me.  ” “  i won’t let anyone hurt you.  ” “  you don’t need to protect me.  ” “  tell me why you stayed.  ” “  why should i trust you?  ” “  i believe you.  ” “  i need you.  ” “  i just want to be needed.  ” “  i have nothing left to give.  ” “  i don’t know what to say.  ”