#I had a sudden muscle spasm and I keep having to take breaks to stretch it

[thirtysixsavefiles]

ryuji sakamoto for the ch ask

AW YEAH, RYUJI.

How I feel about this character

Ryuji is the BEST BOY. He loves? Akira? So much?? Whether it’s romantically or not, Ryuji is clearly ride or die for Akira practically from day one. He sees this closed-off, hurting kid with a reputation even worse than Ryuji’s own and he thinks, yeah. That one.

On top of that, when each of the Phantom Thieves awaken to their personas Ryuji is right there with support and encouragement; when their first reaction is “???????!?!” his is “hell yeah!”

Ryuji, I think, also has a more definite moral line in the sand than Akira does, which makes their relationship interesting. I think that without Ryuji, Akira’s arc potentially becomes a lot darker.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Mmmm, pretty much just Akira I think. Who’s forgotten that Ryuji and Akira basically were ready to die for each other within hours of their first meeting NOT ME.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Akira, obviously, but I am also very invested in Ann and Ryuji as bickering best bros. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don’t think Ryuji’s that dumb. I think he’s been told that he is, and that that’s how he thinks of himself; Ryuji isn’t very invested in the structures of school, but that doesn’t make him stupid.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Obviously I wish Akira could date him, but I also wish we’d gotten to see him with his mom!

(Character Meme)

[a-vild-bluemyrtle]

On how to find your way home | SethxOC | Post Breaking Dawn - Fourth Chapter

Read it also on:  - FF.net - AO3 - Wattpad

_______ Masterpost - find all the chapters: here

Prologue: tumblr post - FF.net - AO3 - Wattpad

First Chapter - ONE: tumblr post - FF.net - AO3 - Wattpad

Second Chapter - TWO: tumblr post - FF.net - AO3 - Wattpad

Third Chapter - THREE:- tumblr post  - FF.net - AO3 - Wattpad

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A DESCRIPTION OF A PHYSICAL AND MENTAL CRISIS THAT RESEMBLES A PANIC ATTACK AND A SEIZURE. IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE ABOUT THIS CONTENT PLEASE AVOID READING THE FIRST PART, THE ONE BEFORE THE LONG ITALIC PART.

___________________________________________________________

FOUR

And the art of surviving hell

Some nights it's impossible for me to fall asleep; my body is exhausted, so is my mind, but there is something that prevents me from closing my eyes and fall into that good night. It's something that haunts me since the night my grandparents died, the night of the accident. It's something that keeps repeating from time to time, unexpectedly, and every time it catches me off-guard. I should be used to it by now, but it seems like every time is worse than the previous one.

And this, this is one of those nights.

My body is burning, I am cold sweating and I think my heart is trying to implode in my chest. I curl up under my pink flower sheets, the ones my mother gave me before moving, compressing the part of the chest where the heart is with both my hands intertwined. I can feel the beats under my sweaty palms, and it hurts. Each heartbeat feels like a fist in the guts, a knife in the back. My muscles start shaking, and a known sensation is spreading throughout my body, a sensation I have learnt to know well in these three years. I whimper, knowing that in a few moments I will completely lose control of my entire body. The awareness makes me anxious, and this anxious state does nothing but making things worse. I try to take deep breaths, like my phycologist in New York told me to do, but every time I try, my chest burns. I gasp to try to breathe, but no air is going inside or outside of my body. I feel like a fish out of the sea, left alone on the shore while it is trembling and clinging to his last tiny drop of water to stay alive one second more.

This is just a panic attack, Cordelia. Breath in.

I gasp.

Breath out.

I gasp again, knowing exactly that this is not a panic attack. It's been three years since the first time I had this kind of mental and physical crisis, and no doctor has ever discovered what the hell is happening to me. Everyone keeps saying that it's because of my father, but I know it's nothing like that, it's something more, it has to be. This is not normal; I am not normal but neither my mother nor my doctors believe it.

The burning in my body is growing, I feel like I'm completely covered in fire even though everything around me is dark, the only light is a ray of moonlight coming from the curtains that I did not close properly before coming to bed.

Hold on to the light. Hold on to the light. I repeat myself like a mantra.

All of a sudden, my limbs start stretching without my consent, almost as there is some dark invisible figure who is trying to rip them off of my body. The pain is so strong that I can't help but start screaming until I feel my vocal cords burning.

Is it possible that my bones are breaking themselves?

The amount of pain I have to suffer is always the same, it never changed in these three years, and this is not even the worst part.

A tingling sensation is spreading through my face; my eyes widen, and I start choking.

It's happening. It's here. I am zooming out, and after I do there is no coming back.

Without warning, a big electric jolt spreads through my mind and body. My body jerks, spasms, and I have no control of it, no control at all. My eyes widen more - I don't even know if it is physically possible, but they do - and finally, with one last, wild, piercing scream - that almost resembles a howl - I faint.

And I go gentle into another of my nightmares.

Silhouettes of dark trees cross my eyes; I see them running fast towards me. I hear a strong howl, so powerful I cannot resist moving in its direction. Familiar voices are filling my head, making me feel dizzy and almost... violated. These voices, I can recognize them, but it seems I cannot remember to whom they belong.

I hear other howls, this time closer. I don't know how but I find myself running towards them, faster and faster until I arrive near a river, enlightened by the full moon.

Eleven giant wolves stand on the right side of the river, ready to fight, and on the other one, four red-eyed creatures are hissing at them.

I recognize some of the wolves, they are always present every time I zoom out since the accident happened. How many drawings I have of them in New York and here in my home in La Push, how many sketchbooks and canvas full of their furs and paws, and eyes and muzzles.

I can still hear those voices in my head, I don't know where they come from... or do I? Maybe I just don't want to know.

I close my eyes for a second and when I open them again, I see the wolves running towards the four creatures.

Fear.

That's all I can feel right now. Concern for those wolves and fear. I see them attacking those strange creatures and being attacked back. I try to move, to join them but I can't, there is something that pulls me back.

Although the wolves are numerically superior, the four creatures keep punching them, hurting them, they are way stronger than all of them, and my concern grows and grows while seeing those wolves to the ground, whining in pain.

In a blink of an eye, everything changes. I am not where I was before, I am in the middle of the fight, but it seems like no one can see or hear me. I turn around to have a clear view, I try to scream to draw some kind of attention, but nothing changes. To their eyes, I do not exist, or at least to most of them. I scream again and this time someone can hear me. One of the wolves stops and starts looking around, visibly confused. He cannot find the source of the voice. He shakes his head and goes back to fight one of the creatures. My eyes never leave him, I keep looking at him while he courageously and bravely fights until for some strange reason he collapses to the ground and growls in pain. At that view, everything around me stops and another excruciating pain – this time different from the last one – hit me. In a complete adrenaline rush, with a pain in the chest that keeps me from breathing properly, I run towards the wolf, scared as I have never been, tears running down my cheeks. The only word I can repeat over and over again is "no!", I am almost shouting, but no one hears me except for that one wolf.

I am almost there, near him; I keep stumbling, my eyes never leaving his figure and my voice always repeating that same word. I can see him moving, I am almost there. He turns his muzzle in my direction, and our eyes meet. Like a Deja-vu, I am fully aware to have already met those eyes, not once but hundreds of times. Those are the eyes I always draw after my nightmares, that is the same sandy fur, full of different brown and yellow nuances, I am used to colour. I am so near him I can almost touch him... I just want to know if he is ok...

And then I wake up.

I jump in my bed and I sit, heavily breathing and still with that strange pain in my chest, near my heart. It takes me five minutes to understand that I am in my room, that the sun is up, and that it was just another strange crisis of mine. This time, though, it hurt more. The images of the wolf lying on the ground so vulnerable and in pain make me sick. I start sobbing, more and more, clutching my legs with my arms and burying my face in them; until that sobbing turns into a hysterical crying. That dreadful pain in the chest is still there, growing stronger every minute, and I find myself wondering what happened to that wolf. It all seemed so real, no way it has been just a dream.

All-day pass and I avoid every call and every interaction with other people, remaining in the same fetal position in my bed, crying out loud for the sake of a wolf which probably does not even exist. But the pain exists, it is real, I am feeling it and it's killing me from the inside.

***

I have spent the last three days in my room. Uncle Billy has not called at all, Rachel neither. Obviously, I am not expecting to be their first thought, they have their lives to live, but it feels so strange.

Maybe something happened. Maybe that was not just a dream.

No. I should stop thinking about that horrible dream. My reclusion is one of its consequences. All I have done in these three days is crying, thinking about that wolf and drawing what I saw, drawing him on the ground. I can still see his dark brown eyes into mine.

While I was still in New York I thought that coming home would have helped me with these crises, but now it seems that they are becoming even stronger and more painful, or at least this last one was. I am trying to recover from it, but nothing seems to work.

Outside the sky is completely covered in dark grey clouds and heavy rain is falling, loudly and persistently. I dry my eyes with a sleeve of my pyjamas, and I get up from the bed, headed to the window. I slightly open it and I light some of my scented candles, scattered around the room. The sound of the rain falling and the visual effect of the candles lightened have always relaxed me, and only the Gods know how much I need to relax right now. I haven't slept or eaten in three days, and something tells me I need a shower too. Actually, I have so many things to do before school starts that I should not waste any more time.

Then why my body refuses to work?

Collecting every inch of strength I've got left, I find the courage to open the door of my room. Because that is the problem, coming back to my life. It all seemed so real the other night, I was so scared, that coming back to my normal life is something I can't even think about. I am terrified to find out that it was all real, that someone got hurt and I was there and couldn't help.

But it wasn't real.

Seth's POV

It has been three years since any vampire crossed the Reservation borders and although we were ready to fight, as we always are, we didn't expect those vampires to be some of the Volturi's guard. We thought we had beaten them when Nessie was born and they came to check if she was an immortal child; we surely were not prepared for an unjustified attack in the middle of the night three days ago, especially because the Cullen's were not even home and Nessie was not even with Jacob.

Which makes me think that we were the target!

They were stronger than five years ago, and something tells me that they studied us in some way, because they all could anticipate each of our moves. Moreover, there was that dammit blonde little girl – Jane, I suppose – who can still make you feel the pains of hell just looking at you, and guess who's turn was to be kicked in the mental ass by her? Mine, of course.

It was the worst feeling I could have ever felt, like I was being electrocuted and burnt from the inside. My brain was completely melting in the meantime, I could feel my brothers' voices, but I was not able to answer them or to think straight. I just laid on the ground, whining in pain, praying the Gods that one of my brothers beat that bitch.

Something happened during that fight, though, something extremely strange. Right in the middle of it, I could hear a scream coming from somewhere near me, but I could find no one. That voice was so familiar, but no one heard it except for me. In the beginning, I thought it was some collateral effect of the torture Jane was inflicting me, but then I could hear a repeating and screamed "no!" and I swear I saw someone running towards me. I saw two caramel eyes in the dark, I was sure of it, and I am also sure that they were Cordelia's eyes. I could recognize my imprint's eyes among billions.

But she was not there, I couldn't smell her salty scent. How could I have seen her eyes when she was not even there?

The Pack told me that maybe it really was a collateral effect of the torture because otherwise there would be no explanation at all. But through my mind, they could also see and heard what I saw and heard alone.

Maybe I should stop thinking about all of this and going to see her. After the fight, I was so physically messed up that Billy told me to not go to her, or she would have suspected something. I had to rest too – under Mom's orders - because of all that torture, and so I have spent three days constantly thinking about those long, thick brown hair of hers falling wildly on her shoulders and those dreamy caramel eyes, the brightest stars in the entire universe. I have thought about that white tattoo on her tigh too: the night of the party I could not see it very well because of the light and her dress.

Oh Gods, that beautiful boho dress she was wearing made her look even more stunning.

I miss her so much and I know that I only spoke to her once, but I want her here near me, I want to caress those rose cheeks of hers, to kiss that always frowned forehead and laugh at our stupid and not funny at all jokes. I just want to spend time with her, doing absolutely nothing but filling the void she left inside me, when she jumped in the car with Jake to go back to her grandparent's house.

I feel nothing when I am not with her, I am nothing without her and I know that this sounds like a toxic thing but on the contrary, it is not. This is what the imprinting does to a wolf, it just rips a huge part of your heart off – better, your entire heart and soul - and gives it to another human being, to which you'll be bonded for the rest of the eternity. I cannot even think about my life without her now, and I really hope she will accept it. Because, another thing the imprinting does it's that an imprintee can choose to stay with her/his wolf, meaning that she fully accepts the imprinting bond and so you can live together happily ever after, like in the most romantic comedies or... or she can choose to reject it and go away. And in that case, the only thing a wolf can do is letting his soulmate go away, even knowing that he will never love anyone else, that she will always be his only one and true love. The wolf will always be there waiting for her. As I will always be here waiting for her, in case she does not want to be a part of this crazy supernatural world.

I have to see her. Now. I think while getting up from my bed and going straight into the shower. As the warm water is falling over my entire body, I contemplate all the scars I have collected since I was 14 and phased for the first time. I would not blame Cordelia if she was too afraid to accept that her soulmate can shift into a bear-sized wolf and kills vampires for a living. How could I? The most important things for me are her safety and happiness, and If she is safe and happy without me, well, I can just act as a side character for her story and do every possible thing to keep her happy and safe, indeed.

I don't exactly know with what excuse I should show up to her door, I try to figure something out while getting dressed but nothing comes to my mind.

"Ma, going out. Don't know when coming back. Love ya!" I say out loud running down the stairs and taking the keys of my car.

It is easy to find her house, I practically follow her scent until it becomes stronger and stronger, and here it is. I park in her driveway and turn off the car, trying to catch some sound or movement to see if she is at home or not. And fortunately she is, I can hear her tinker with something.

Come on Seth, you have been dreaming of her for three days. It's your time to shine.

I take a deep breath and get out of the car, quickly heading to the front door.

I don't even have the time to knock that she opens the door, instantly freezing because she wasn't expecting me. She raises her head and I can finally drown again in those caramel eyes I have longed to see for days. The urge to touch her is so strong that I have to close my hands into fists so to not hug her and hold her tight. I can sense a hint of anxiety and restlessness in her body movements though, like there is something that's worrying her.

"Seth", she breaths out surprised, her eyes widening and a shy smile appearing on her face.

"Hi!" I reply timidly, giving her my warmest smile. "I am... sorry to bother you... maybe I should see you another time." I continue, noticing that she has her car keys and home keys in one hand, and she is fully dressed to go out.

She frowns her eyebrows and bites the inner part of her lower lip.

"Oh I... no, NO! You are not bothering at all!" She replies goofily.

How can you be so damn cute every time, girl?

"I was just going to the grocery shop. All I have left is non-alcoholic beer and I am not that desperate yet to only live off of that." She says, chuckling and playing with her keys. Another sign of anxiety.

This is so our moment, man! Come on, just ask her.

"In this case, let me escort you to the nearest shop...of course if you want to... I- I don't want to ruin your day." Since when I am so goofy with the opposite sex? Where did Paul's lessons go?

To hell, this is your soulmate. Could you please not act creepy, thanks? We don't want to ruin everything in just a few days.

Her cheeks become even more pinkish and she swallows.

"Well, you could...Ehm... escort me not to the nearest but... to the best stocked one... maybe? I'm kind of spoiled when it comes to food". She says bashfully, smiling and wrinkling her nose.

If you ask me like this, I could escort you to the moon, baby girl.

"I happen to know exactly where to take you," I answer grinning and moving to the side of the door to let her pass and close it.

"How lucky I am today!", she says teasingly, when I gently take her umbrella and open it, inviting her to get to my side. I guide her towards my car with one arm behind her back, never touching her clothes. She does not say anything, but I feel her relaxing. I open the car door for her trying to not get her wet from the rain, and I find myself mentally jumping from joy because her being in my car means her scent being stuck there for days.

I get inside the car too; I turn to look at her one last time before starting the engine and I find her still smiling at me.

"Ready to go?" I ask her happily. We are only going to go grocery shopping but to me it seems like I am doing the most exciting thing on Earth. Just because I am doing it with her. I never liked grocery shopping, actually, I hate it when mom asks me to do it, but with her... well it's her, I could jump from a tower if she asked, and I would do it gladly.

She nods in reply, never stops smiling and my heart melts for the hundredth times in five minutes.

Coming to see her has been the best decision today.

[trashscenariihxh]

Uvogin x fem!Reader

Uvogin has a giant dick, and you have to take it somehow.  1602 words of pure filth.  Enjoy.

“Do you want more?”

The four simple words were all it took to get you into your current position, said position being splayed out on the bed with Uvogin’s face between your thighs.  You moaned at the way his tongue lapped at your slit, the way he flattened it against your clitoris, sending pleasurable tremors down your legs.  You arched your back, your fingers raking through his hair; you were rewarded with an appreciative grunt.

A gasp escaped your lips when Uvogin gave your sex a broad-tongued lick followed by a quick flick to your clitoris. Large strong hands gripped your thighs, keeping them parted to give him better access.  A shiver went down your spine as he lapped at your clitoris; you moaned softly as his tongue circled the nub of skin.  Your legs had begun to quiver; had it not been for Uvogin’s grip on your thighs, they would have clamped around his head.

Your face began to heat up when you felt his tongue prod against your entrance; when he pushed his tongue in between your folds, your face became almost unbearably hot. A deep, hoarse moan rumbled through Uvogin’s chest, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.  You bit the back of your hand to stifle a groan as the wet muscle moved between the folds of your sex; Uvogin was quite literally fucking you with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried out, arching off the bed again as Uvogin moved a hand from your thigh to rub your clit.  Pressure had begun building within you; it didn’t take long for the tension to snap and send you gasping and spasming into orgasm.

“Did you like that?”  Uvogin reappeared from between your legs with a triumphant grin on his face.

You panted, your chest rising and falling as you struggled to form words.

Uvogin took your silence as an affirmation, and chuckled.  “I know you did, ___.”  He leaned over you, his mouth at your ear.  “I felt you clench around my tongue.”  He drew his tongue along the shell of your ear before drawing back and kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Come here.”  It was an unnecessary order; Uvogin grabbed your hips and brought you down to the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on your cunt.

“Now…” he grinned at you playfully.  “You still want more, right?”  As he spoke, he dragged a finger along your slit.

You nodded, still unable to speak after your orgasm,

“Heh.  Good,”  Slowly and with uncharacteristic gentleness, Uvogin pressed a long, thick finger into your tight heat.  “You’re so wet,” he observed, “so tight and warm, ____.  Are you ready for me?”  He pumped his finger inside you before adding another, pumping, scissoring and stretching you out as you squirmed at his touch.

“Fuck, ____…”  He gave a few more slow, languid pumps.  “You’re so, so tight.  You’re going to feel incredible around my cock.”  He added a third finger, chuckling when you cried out.

“Is it too much?”

You shook your head, knowing fully well that you were only lying to yourself.  Uvogin had stretched you to the breaking point, and these were just his fingers.  You had no idea how you were going to handle his cock.  

“You’re taking my fingers so well, ____,” Uvogin praised, gently giving a few more pumps.  His voice was starting to grow hoarse; you realized with a jolt that he was stroking himself. When you answered him with a whine, he gave a throaty laugh and withdrew his fingers.  “Do you think you’re ready for me now?”

It was now or never.  You nodded, eager for the challenge of taking him.  You’d never taken his cock before now, but damn it, you wanted to try.

“Good.”  Uvogin smiled at you before standing up.  “I want you to get on your hands and knees for me, ____, can you do that?”  

You obeyed, noting the strange gentleness in his voice.

Uvogin ran a large hand down your back and over your ass.  “Spread your legs a bit more for me.  That’s a good girl.”  He gave your ass an affectionate squeeze.

You looked back over your shoulder at him and your eyes were met with the sight of Uvogin languidly stroking his impressively hard cock.  You gulped at its size.  You’d seen it before, but the idea of it going inside you… you suppressed a shudder of anticipation and turned back around.

“Are you worried about it fitting?” Uvogin chuckled darkly as he gave himself a few more strokes.  “Don’t worry, it will.” Without further delay, he lined his cock up against your entrance.

Your eyes widened when you felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your folds, and widened further when he began to push in.  You cried out at the massive intrusion, wiggling your hips from side to side in an effort to get the discomfort to abate.  

“You feel so good already,” Uvogin growled, inching in a little bit further.  “You can take more, right?”

It wasn’t really a question; you bit your lip to stifle a cry when he pushed in further, inch by agonizing inch.

“I know,” Uvogin soothed, his thumbs tracing gentle circles over your hips, “you’re doing such a good job taking me.”  He pushed in more, filling you more than you’d ever thought possible.  You yelped when he bumped against your cervix, causing him to let out an amused hum.  

Your body was on fire; you spread your thighs a little wider to better accommodate him, all while wondering why on earth you decided to try this.  

“Relax, ____, fuck, relax!”  Uvogin grunted, pausing momentarily before reaching around your body to rub your clitoris.  

The distraction was a welcome one; you moaned appreciatively, twitching around his cock as his fingers worked on your clit.  You felt so vulnerable, so spread open, so incredibly impossibly full… you had no idea how much more you would be able to take.

“Almost there,” Uvogin gritted out, pushing in a little farther.  “Just a little more.  That’s it, good girl…”

Finally, finally, he bottomed out, his balls resting warm and heavy against you as he ran a soothing hand down your spine.  Without pulling out, he ground his hips against you for a moment, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and stifle a gasp.  It was too much.  

Without warning, Uvogin pulled out, only to thrust back in, hilting himself inside you.  Your eyes flew open and you let out a surprised cry as the previous fullness you’d felt returned tenfold.  “You like this?” Uvogin asked, rocking his hips back and forth, battering you with his enormous cock.  When you didn’t answer, he paused, his dick halfway out of you.  “____, do you like this?”

“Y-yes,” you groaned, not quite sure why you wanted more.

Satisfied with your answer, Uvogin grabbed your hips and pushed into again with a bone crushing thrust. “You’re so tight,” he growled, his voice hoarse and rough, “you love being taken like this, so full of my cock.”  His pace increased as he began to fuck you in earnest.  “You love being stuffed like this, don’t you?”  Another particularly hard thrust made your arms give out, and you fell forwards, your cheek resting against the mattress.

A dark chuckle was the only warning you got before Uvogin increased the pace of his thrusts; his hands held your hips with inescapable strength as he pistoned in and out of you.  With a growl, Uvogin leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your middle so he could reach up and cup your breasts.  “Tell me,” he panted in your ear, “tell me how much you love it.”

Having been fucked to near incoherence, formulating a full sentence was nigh on impossible. All you could manage was to slur a few fragments together.  “So...good.  Love… it.”

Your fragmented sentence seemed enough to pleased Uvogin; he hummed approvingly.  “Good.  Girl,” he gritted out, punctuating each word with a thrust.

Your legs, already trembling, had begun to shake so violently that you were sure you were about to fall.  Just as they gave out, Uvogin caught you around the waist and continued to fuck you.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as your mind blanked, incapable of coherent thought.  All you could sense now were Uvogin’s grunts, the growing pleasure in your core, and the ache between your legs.  

Uvogin seemed to sense how close you were to orgasm, and doubled his efforts.  His earlier restraint had given way to desire; he was fucking you raw.  

Somehow, the relentless pounding drew your orgasm out of you; you came with a high-pitched whine, your body spasming and clenching around Uvogin’s cock.  The large man laughed, seeing you so fucked out and exhausted, and continued his onslaught, pounding into you until he reached his own peak.

With a low groan, Uvogin came, spilling his release deep inside you.  He stilled, his cock twitching as he panted above you.

You whimpered when he pulled out, the sudden emptiness feeling alien to you.  Your entire body felt boneless and weary; you longed for sleep.

“___, you okay?”  Uvogin joined you on the bed, pulling your comparatively tiny body close to him.

“Mmm…”  You still hadn’t regained your ability to speak properly; you nodded as you snuggled into his warmth.  You were vaguely aware of Uvogin saying something to you, but you were too gone, too exhausted to register.  As you enjoyed the warmth radiating from his body, you let yourself slip into sleep.

[kyber-kisses]

Going Under

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, spn level gore, drowning

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: Drowning

Summary: When the reader and Dean are captured by a nest of vamps, things take a slight turn when the readers life is suddenly put in mortal danger. Will Dean be able to save her in time?

“I can’t believe you.”

“Are you seriously going to bring that up right now?” You hissed, eyes blazing as you leaned forward to look at Dean.

“You’re damn right I am!”

“Dean, look around you. Now is really not the time.” You tried to gesture to the room around you but ultimately failed due to your zip tied hands.

So. . . Things may or may not have gone terribly wrong while you, Sam, and Dean were working a case. The three of you had been expecting a few vamps but somehow it had quickly turned into a full nest. One thing led to another, you and Dean were captured and Sam was yet to be found.

“Oh it never is, is it?” He grumbled, his eyes focused on his own restraints as he tried to figure out how to get out. He couldn’t have been more than four feet in front of you, the two of you facing each other. But it wasn’t the person in front of you that had you worried- it was what lay directly behind you.

The two of you were being held in the natatorium of the high school all the victims had attended, the air humid and filled with the strong scent of chlorine. The only lights that were still on were the ones embedded in the walls of the pool, the reflection of the water dancing turquoise on the tiled walls and ceiling. Your captors had yet to come back, the only sound being the lap of water hitting the edges of the pool.

Unlike Dean, you had your back facing the water. The back legs of your chair resting on the lip of the pool. Apart from your hands being bound together with zip ties you also had to worry about your ankles. Thick rope dug into your skin, binding them together. The other end of the rope had been looped through one of the holes in a cinder block, the piece of concrete partially sticking out over the ledge of the pool. All it would take was one small nudge to send you sinking.

Needless to say; this was not an ideal situation to be in. . . And to top it all off, Dean was still mad at you for the so called “hiccup” on the previous hunt.

“I told you, I’m not gonna apologize!” You snapped, leaning forward once more in your chair.

“Well you should! What you did was reckless and stupid!”

“I was saving your fucking life! You could be a little grateful every once and awhile!”

For a split second you expected steam to come out of Dean ears, his jaw clenching as he glared at you. “You jumped into the line of fire!”

“Yeah, to save your ungrateful ass! If I hadn’t done something you would be dead!”

Dean opened his mouth once more to respond, but was stopped short when the doors leading out into the hallway banged open, revealing what had to be the biggest vampire you had ever seen. It was like looking at a six and a half foot tall pillar of solid muscle.

“Well what do we have here?” He grinned, stalking across the concrete floor and towards you and Dean. “A Winchester tied up all pretty for me? It must be my lucky day.”

“And you must be the big ugly vamp I’m about to kill.” Dean fired back, twisting his hands in his bindings. His words getting a loud chuckle from the vamp, but once his amused expression fell he was driving his fist into the side of Deans face, his head being whipped around by the force.You wriggled in your seat, the instinct to kill growing tenfold.

“Hey big guy, hands off him!” You tried to leap up but didn’t get very far with your ankles and wrists bound, the failed action making you drop back into the seat. You could see Dean giving you one of his warning gazes, silently telling you to back off.

The vampire turned, his back now facing Dean as he took a step forward. “And who’s this?” He grinned, grabbing your chin forcefully with a calloused hand.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

The vampire paused, looking back over his shoulder at the struggling Winchester. “Is she yours?”

“I ain’t nobody’s, you big ass freak.” You spat, taking your opening when he turned back to you,and slamming your head into his full force. He stumbled back with a string of curses, hand leaving your chin to slap over the point of contact.

“Why you little-“

“Bitch? I know. Very original.” You deadpanned.

Lowering his hand from his head, the vampire set his gaze on your before bringing hit hand back and connecting it with your cheek in a harsh slap that echoed across the pool. Head knocked back by the sudden force, you stretched your jaw. You gave yourself a moment before looking back up at him, a bloody grin on your face.

“I know pillows that hit harder than you do.”

He raised his fist again.

“I said don’t fucking touch her!” Dean growled, the plastic chair he was bound to creaking loudly as he tried to free himself.

Where was Sam? Sam needed to find them and quick before this dude did anything to permanently harm either of you.

The vamp smiled, clearly getting a kick out of seeing a Winchester squirm in his seat. “This is mildly entertaining to watch.”

“Fuck you.” You snapped, leaning forward once again. All you wanted to do was keep this guy away from Dean.

“Alright, and that’s enough from you.”

What happened next was so quick neither of you had time to properly process what he was doing. The vamp stepped forward and nudged the cinder block with the toe of his boot. The block disappeared over the edge of the formerly still pool with a loud splash and you were pulled back with it. Deans eyes widened in pure terror as you let out the beginnings of a yell before being swallowed by the water as well. It was as if gasoline was poured onto the spark of fear in his belly. One moment he was frozen in shock and the next he was struggling harder than ever before against his bindings, eyes flicking back to the number on the edge of the pool saying his deep it was.

8 feet.

There’s no way your gonna be able to fight yourself to the surface with your ankles bound to that block.

“You son of a bitch- I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Dean hissed. The adrenaline pumping through him was at an all time high. A sudden idea tumbled into his skull and Dean was suddenly planting his feet on the floor and pushing himself back with all the energy he could muster. The plastic chair careened backwards, and between his weight and the concrete flooring, the flimsy piece of furniture broke, pieces of plastic shrapnel flying out across the floor.

Meanwhile, you were struggling. A lot. Your head was pounding, every cell screaming for oxygen as you struggled at the bottom of the pool, your hair rising upwards like seaweed as you tried to break the zip ties, your body arching in your struggle. You tilted your head in the direction of the cinder block, the one thing keeping you from the oxygen your body so desperately needed. It felt like every inch of you was throbbing, your lungs on fire.

When was the last time you were this scared for your own life? You couldn’t remember.

Blackness slowly began to seep into the corners of your vision after a solid thirty seconds of struggling. You needed to breath. You needed to take a breath. And even though you try and fight it, you suddenly inhale whether it’s air or heavily chlorinated water. Just like that a cold flow of water is thrust up your nostrils, a stream cascading into the back of your throat and nose, sending jets of pain through your body. The steady hum of the water in your ears slowly begins to fade into something softer, gradually muting into silence, one with the darkness. You give up on the fighting and thrashing, allowing the water to hold you in a suspended position beneath the surface as everything goes black, your body giving one last spasm before shutting down. . .

Dean rolled to his feet quickly as the vamp lunged at him, using the plastic handles of his chair to somewhat defend himself as the monster attacked. He blocked the first few blows before he lost the upper hand, the vamp bowling him over and sending him sliding across the floor.

“I would just give up. She’s probably gone by now.”

Dean ignored him, crawling to his feet again before slamming into him. Once again, he only got a few punches in before he was pinned beneath the massive body. Solid hands wound around Deans throat, beginning to squeeze. It only lasted a second though before Dean hears the distinct whistle of a blade moving through the air, and the vamps head is suddenly freed from his shoulders, revealing a very bloody Sam behind him.

The younger Winchester let the machete drop from his hands as he pulls the corpse off of Dean, chest heaving. “Where the hell is Y/N?”

Y/N.

Dean is up and on his feet in seconds, rushing across the concrete floor as he quickly shrugged off his jacket before diving into the lit up water of the massive pool. It’s not hard to find you, but the chlorine burns his eyes as he dives to the bottom. The rope keeping you tethered to the cement block is thick, and Dean is thankful for the blade he keeps stashed in the side of his boot.

He works fast, his adrenaline still pumping as he saws through the rope. His lungs have never burned like this before and everything in him is telling him to go to the surface for more air. . . But he doesn’t. After what feels like an eternity the rope finally snaps and Dean wishes he could let out a sigh of relief. Wrapping his arms around your torso he searches for his last bit of strength and kicks upward.

“Dean!”

That’s the first thing he hears when he breaks the surface, taking in lungfuls of air as he tries to tread water. You are dead weight in his arms, and its difficult to keep the both of you above the waterline. Through the water in his vision, he can just barely make out Sam, his brother on his knees at the edge of the pool.

“Sam- help-“

Dean somehow managed to get close enough to the lip of the pool that before he knows it, Sam has his hands underneath your armpits and is hauling you out of what almost feels like a grave. Dean sucked in a breath before bracing his hands on the edge and pushing himself out of the water. Its only when hes on his knees next to Sam that he almost freezes at the sight of you.

Almost.

You look like a rag doll, your body limp and lips a light shade of blue. Fear runs rabid through his body still and just like that he is back in action.

“Sam, cut the bindings on her hands.” Dean spoke quickly as he pressed his ear to your chest.

Heartbeat. He needed a heartbeat.

After a moment he pulled back again, rolling up his sleeves as he started the compressions on your chest.

“You are not allowed to die on me, you hear? And definitely not like this.” Dean huffed. A small part of him was afraid that he might break your ribs with the amount of pressure he was using, but the desperation to see you breath took over and he ignored it.

“Dammit Y/N-“

Tilting your head back slightly, Dean lifted your chin and pinched your nose shut before placing his mouth over yours to create a seal. He gave you two breaths before pulling back and continuing the compressions.

His eyes stayed glued to your face, hoping beyond anything he would see a sign that you were still with them.

Nothing.

And then his mouth was back on yours as he tried desperately to breathe life back into you. “C’mon sweetheart. I got some things to say to you and I can’t do that if your dead.” He pulled back, hands going back to your chest.

Sam let his brother continue the cycle two more times before he was clamping a hand over Deans shoulder.

“Dean-“

The hunter swatted him away, continuing the compressions. “She’s not dead. She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s staying that way!” He panted,ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes as he leaned back down to give you another set of rescue breaths.

Apparently he was right because barely a second after he pulled away, you coughed. . . Or more like slightly gargled. A spray of water leaving your lips as you choked.

“There we go!”

Dean let out a sigh of relief as his shoulders dropped, the hunter helping to roll you to the side as you emptied an unhealthy amount of water from your lungs. His hand rubbing your back softly. Filled with relief he let out a light chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Unfortunately your body was still too weak to keep you conscious and once the water was out of your system you were slumping back onto the wet floor, your head coming to rest on Deans thigh.

“Y/N?”

“She’s out. But we need to get out of here Dean, I took down a bunch of them but I don’t know how many vamps are still here.” Sam sighed.

There was silence, Dean too focused on the unconscious Y/N in his arms to hear his brother properly.

“Dean!”

Snapping out of his state, Dean looked up- your head resting on the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Hand me one of those towels.” He pointed behind Sam towards the rack, several towels rolled neatly and stuffed into it.

Sam popped up into his feet, quickly retrieving one before handing it over to his brother- who wrapped in snugly around you and then hoisted you into his arms.

“I got ya. I got ya.” Dean breathed, cheek coming to rest on your wet hairline. “We’re gonna get you back to the motel, and your gonna rest up and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He couldn’t tell if he was saying those words to comfort himself or you. Maybe it was both. Both would be preferred.

With Sam taking the lead, the two of them navigated the empty halls of the high school wanting nothing more than to leave it all behind.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

When you first eased into consciousness the first thing your body registered was that you were breathing. And this time it was actual air and not water. The second thing you noticed was that your body felt like lead, even your eyelids were struggling to open. Your fingers wiggled against the soft sheets as you slowly attempted to opened your eyes, the morning light trickling through the blinds of the motel room to illuminate the space.

You tried shifting your position, your body stiff as you let out a groan. Your sudden movement and noise gaining the attention of the other people in the room.

“Y/N?” Suddenly setting down his glass at the small table, he turned towards you, clearly surprised to see you awake. “Hey, how you feelin?” He spoke softly, sitting down besides you on the bed before reaching for your hand.

“What- what happened?”

Bracing your hands on the mattress as you tried and sit up. Dean was besides you in an instant, sticking a pillow behind you before helping you up to lean against the headboard. Why was Dean suddenly being nice to you? Last time you checked he was mad at you.

“You almost died, that’s what happened.” Dean scolded, sinking back down onto the side of the bed.

“Dean-“ Sam began, quickly being cut off by you.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean; almost died?”

“I mean, you almost drowned to death in a pool.”

Dean watched your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Drown? That didn’t make any sense. You knew how to swim. How the fuck could you possible drown?

“What were we doing at a pool?”

“What were we-“ Dean choked on the words, unable to believe you just asked that. “Y/N we were hunting a vamp nest.”

That’s all he had to say before it slowly came back to you. Bits and pieces falling into place. Some parts were still blank, but you remembered a good portion. Dean and you being caught. That big ass vampire. . . Something having to do with a cinder block?

“Wait Y/N, what all do you remember?” Sam spoke suddenly, worry crossing his features.

“Everything up until getting caught. . . And maybe a little more. But I don’t understand the drowning bit.”

Turning his attention from you to his brother, Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Why doesn’t she remember?”

“I mean in some cases of drowning if there’s a lot of water in the system and depending on how long she was under. . . There might be some brain damage.”

“I’m sorry, brain damage?” You and Dean spoke in unison. You sat up a little straighter, suddenly worried.

“I don’t think it’s too serious, but I can call Cas. See if he can’t stop by to check on you.” Already pulling out his phone, Sam left the room leaving you and Dean to sit in silence. It felt like you sat like that forever before anything was actually said.

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to go through if you’d died last night?”Dean spoke suddenly, looking across the bed towards you.

“What?”

“Years of guilt. Crippling, self loathing guilt.” He continued, eyes darting down to look at his hands. “I know what you were trying to do last night. Antagonizing that vamp to keep him away from me. Putting yourself in harms way like you always do.”

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was about. You may not remember last night clearly, but that didn’t mean you didn’t remember the times before. It was what Dean had been angry about before as well.

“Dean-“

“You’re not supposed to die for me, Y/N.” He added. “And neither is my brother. But no matter what I say, or how hard I try to drill it into your skulls, you’re not gonna stop trying.”

“You’re right. I’m not going to stop trying. I love you too much to.” The second it left your lips, you were slamming a hand over your mouth.

Okay so maybe you did have brain damage. There’s no way a sane person would just let it slip they love someone. Nuh-uh. No way.

You watched Dean with wide eyes, trying to judge his expression. His own eyes widening for a moment before a soft and knowing smile fell across his features and he was reaching across to pull your hand away from your mouth. You didn’t realize until that moment how close he really was.

Dean gently leaned in, giving you more than enough time to pull back. . . But you didn't. His lips eventually pressing against yours softly. And no, it wasn't some sort of powerful, passionate kiss. It was a gentle and close-mouthed kiss like you do when you’re in eighth grade and you’ve never held hands before with a boy. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, seeing if you really want this. You do. More than anything.

“You know, I’m falling for you so much that it’s freaking me the hell out.” He paused. “That’s why I got mad. I don’t want you getting hurt, especially for me. Now I know that’s no excuse for me being a dick, i just- don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I lost you last night-”

“I wont. . .wait, You're falling for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could never hate you.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​ @orphiceseum​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​ @marvelfangirllll​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​ @gladiosamicitias​ @castielsangelsx​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​  @totallyluciferr​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​ @greenarrowhead​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​ @brebolin​​ @biahblue​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​ @hhiggs​​​ @mila-dans​​​ @mrsmaybankhere​​ @malindacath​​  @littleagxs​

[isis-astarte-diana]

On Your Toes

Summary: “You told me you were bored, so I gave you something to do.” Missy can always find a way to keep her companion busy.

Warnings: NSFW. MIHOW. Dark!Missy. Serious predicament bondage, featuring stress positions and the threat of bodily harm. (It’s foot trauma). Anal, but, like, not particularly explicit. Absolutely terrible BDSM etiquette - realistically, this is just straight-up torture. Missy is... really unpleasant. The way we love her best.

Word Count: 2067

NB: Sat down to write this thinking “aha, yes, the ornamental bondage concept. Nice, wholesome stuff. We all love that,” and then... well... this happened instead. I think it fits quite nicely into the New Toy universe.

It’s cold in this part of the TARDIS.

The engines are drowned out by the low hiss of an air conditioning system, and this, in turn, is swallowed in the whir of the servers that surround you. Row upon row of shelves stretch to the high ceiling, glowing with blue light, the impossible dimensions of the room containing only a fraction of a fraction of the ship’s central computing hardware. The vast monitor in front of you indicates that the temperature is in its ideal range; somewhere above refrigeration, but certainly lower than would ever be comfortable for a human in your state of undress.

Still, you’re sweating.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead with it, rapidly cooling trails of perspiration trickling down your neck, your sides, the backs of your trembling legs. Another full-body shiver makes your knees quake and you falter, losing your balance, dropping silently from your tiptoes to stand flat footed on the smooth tiles.

“Heels up.”

Missy doesn’t look up from her work at the control panel. She has her back to you, her dark head bowed, quick fingers flitting between a set of keys and dials and a touchscreen display. She had explained what she was doing, and you had made a valiant effort to listen, but that was hours ago, or so it seems. The technical jargon you’d tried so hard to keep track of has been pushed from your mind by far more urgent physical sensations.

The plug isn’t overly large - perhaps, at its broadest, just thicker than two of her slender fingers - but it’s certainly too much to ignore. Though inaudible over the other machinery of the server room its vibrations are powerful and, more than this, variable. If there is any pattern to the change in pitch, you have yet to determine it; and you have been thinking of little else for quite some time.

“Missy,” you attempt weakly, making no effort to conceal the chatter of your teeth. “Please, I-“ The words turn into an unsteady whine to match the abrupt increase in speed of the pulsing toy inside you. Your thighs try to press closer together, if not for stability then at least to soothe the impossible sensitivity of the slick flesh between them. The bar that keeps your ankles spread wide offers no such relief.

“Lift your heels,” she repeats, sharper this time. “And hush.”

Gritting your teeth against the cramping in your calves, you obey.

Behind your back, you hold tighter to yourself, each forearm clasped in the opposite hand and bound that way so that your shoulders are drawn backwards. Your chest is forced up and out by the position, leaving your naked breasts vulnerable in the cold air, nipples painfully stiff and throbbing from the chill. As the vibrations slow once more, your breaths come easier again.

The effect, unfortunately, is two-fold; with fewer distractions, your attention is once more concentrated on the strain of your position. Tension is beginning to set in at the base of your spine, the arches of your feet, even the core muscles in your abdomen, everything below the waist protesting at being made to hold you up like this. Tremors pluck once more at the tendons in your calves. You withstand them for as long as you can, teeth sinking sharply into your chapped bottom lip, until another wave of sensation from the plug as it kicks up to full speed for an instant has you landing hard on your heels, yelping so loudly that Missy actually startles at the noise.

The server room is not quiet, but it is very suddenly as still as a tomb.

You watch as she slowly lifts her head, rolling her neck, stretching languidly as if to emphasise your inability to do the same. When she rises to her feet you almost whimper. Being ignored is a torture in and of itself, but having captured her attention is no comfort. She does not face you, moving instead to one of the shelves nearest the control panel, one that houses gutted hardware and its components. Her fingers plunge into the innards of a half-disassembled server. Impossibly, the sight makes you shudder. From here she withdraws something in a closed fist.

“It’s a fairly simple instruction, isn’t it?”

Her voice is cooler than the spinning fans above you and hums with far more power.

“I mean - stand on your tiptoes. It’s four words. Not even particularly long words, either.” At this, she finally turns on her heels, her smile bright and broad and utterly mirthless. “You can manage to keep track of four words, can’t you?”

You nod emphatically, the movement made jerky by the shivering you cannot stop. She raises an expectant brow.

“And yet, there you are. Not standing on your tiptoes.”

The haste with which you rock up onto the balls of your feet when she begins to approach almost costs you your balance. You waver there for a moment, close to falling back on your heels again, even closer to sprawling face down on the hard ground. With your arms bound behind you, you would have no hope of shielding your face from the impact; your nose, already sore from the cold, throbs at the thought. A strangled whimper works its way through your trembling lips.

Missy narrows her eyes. In the low blue light her features are sharpened, shadows darkening under every curve and arch of bone with the angle at which she tilts her head. “You told me you were bored.”

You shrink, not only from her tone, but also from the memory of your own impertinence. At the time - curled up on the tiled floor at her feet, left with nothing to occupy your restless mind or hands and scolded every time you dared to fidget - you had hoped that she would let you assist her, even if only with a trivial task, or at least set you some busywork to spare you from having to sit still and silent in the cold.

“You told me you were bored, so I gave you something to do.” She takes hold of your jaw with icy fingers just as the thrumming of the toy kicks up a degree. Your hoarse gasp is due, in part, to both. “I went to all this trouble and you keep disobeying me.”

“Missy, I- I can’t...” Spasms shoot up the backs of your legs, settling in your abdomen, shortening your breaths as you speak through a grimace. “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t-” It’s impossible to straighten out the words behind your quivering jaw. “I’m really trying.”

“You certainly are, dear.” Her thumb curls under your chin, her palm slowly moving to cup your cheek now. She bares her teeth. “Consider my patience tried.”

The slap catches you off guard. Its sting is only aggravated by the chill of her skin, and of yours, so that the pain is sharp as frostbite. Your heels meet the ground again as you struggle to steady yourself. The shifting of your weight brings relief, but this is smothered by the knowledge that you have, once more, failed to follow her instructions.

“I’m sorry!” With your face turned down towards your shoulder and your eyes clamped shut against the welling tears, you try fruitlessly to rise back onto your toes. Though the balls of your feet burn with the effort, your legs are too shaky, your knees too weak. You cannot seem to settle into a balanced position. All the while, the shifting of the plug inside of you is torturous, its constant vibrations irritating your nerves and flooding you with scalding arousal that cools on your parted thighs. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I- please-”

Her knuckles brush against the blazing skin of your cheek and you flinch from the touch. “Oh, it’s alright, poor love.” With a sympathetic click of her tongue, she coaxes your eyes back to hers and gives you a pitying look. “Now, I know how you humans can struggle with these things, so I don’t mind giving you some help, just this once.”

She shows you her other hand and finally loosens her fist to reveal the spoils of her earlier search. Your cry of alarm hones her lips into a knife-edged grin.

“I’ll do better!” The words are too loud in the close quarters, ragged with unsteady breaths as your wide eyes flit between her face and the pair of inch-long screws resting in her open palm. “I will, I promise, I-” Again, your voice is robbed by a sudden and brief change in the pitch of the maddening vibrations.

“Well, if you’re going to do better, then you won’t mind this at all, will you?” Missy presses the sole of her boot down lightly on the toes of your right foot, cool and smooth and with no weight behind it. “Stand on your tiptoes.”

You shake your head, teeth clenching to stop the chatter there, tears turning cold as they begin to escape at last. She pushes harder, the touch growing uncomfortable, still wavering just this side of pain.

“On your toes,” she repeats, her smile flickering with the threat of a snarl, “or I will break them for you.”

For the barest of moments you try to weigh up the impossible choice - obey, and feel the pointed tip of the screw beneath your raised heel; disobey, and test the sincerity of her words - until the bones of your toes grind painfully between boot and tile and the far more present peril wins out. With a choked gasp you lift yourself once more onto the balls of your feet.

Her voice lowers to a stage whisper and she gives you an exaggerated wink. “Good choice.”

You twist your head at an awkward angle to watch her moving behind you, but this threatens your balance and you quickly correct your posture again. As she sinks to the ground, her fingernails carve a stinging path down the back of your left calf, following the curve of cramping muscle from knee to elevated heel. You jerk under the touch, but cannot escape it without falling.

“If I were you,” she begins, with a faint stirring of amusement, “I would think very carefully about which foot I favoured.” To emphasise her meaning, she pricks the arch of your foot with the screw. You squeak pitifully.

“Please, Mistress.” You cast your blurry eyes to the ceiling, trying not to shift your weight when she repeats the motion on your other foot. Your thighs quake beneath you, cold and strain and horror all taking their toll. “I’m sorry, I- I was rude-”

“You were bored.” She drags her nails up your right leg when she straightens up and leans in to show you her indulgent smile. “And now you’re not. You’re welcome, dear.”

Missy returns to the control panel without a second glance. Your babbling protests fall on deaf ears as she sits back down, swirling her fingers across the touchscreen. It takes only moments for the futility of your efforts to sink in. Despite her earlier impatience with your complaints, she seems entirely impassive to them now.

Fighting every screaming nerve in your body, you bow your head and try to concentrate.

The most tentative of attempts at shuffling forwards is quickly thwarted; with your ankles bound this far apart and your arms restrained behind you, you have no hope of shifting away from the threat underfoot without your forehead meeting the tiles. Through harsh and wavering breaths you are forced to accept the dawning realisation that your balance is tentative, your muscles are fatigued, and it is only a matter of time until you fall one way or the other.

“Missy!” Her name is a panicked sob. Your feet are beginning to cramp and you shrink in on yourself, clawing at your forearms, seeking stability that you cannot find. In your anguish, your muscles draw tighter around the plug, drawing your attention once more to the unpredictable nature of its constant pulsing. “I can’t stay like this!”

She turns to look at you over her shoulder, her expression one of arch disinterest. “Well, you can put your heels down if you like, poppet.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile. “But you’ll only do it once.”

Unseen, she slips a hand into her pocket and deposits the two screws inside.

[heroloverangel]

Stray

Happy Spooky Month, my Halloween costume is Villain Fucker.

You always did have a bad habit for taking in strays. As a kid, your parents constantly scolded you for feeding random dogs and bringing unfamiliar cats into the house. Keep giving it a place to go, they’d warn you every time, and you’d only tempt a stray animal to stick around. 

Meeting Dabi was a lucky coincidence for both of you. You were being harassed by a pair of criminals on your way home, and were lucky that their threats were loud enough to annoy the real villain passing by. They were easy enough to deal with, and he was lucky that you wanted to thank him for his help. By the time you realized he only planned to take care of the muggers for bothering him, and never meant to help you, he was already in your bed. Months later, those old warnings still echo in your head whenever he shows up unannounced, eager for some comfort before he runs back off into the night.

You know it’s irrational to worry about him. He kills people for fun and profit, the world would objectively be a safer place if he were captured. Yet somehow, whenever you hear news about heroes clashing with the League of Villains, you’re secretly hoping he gets away and is headed towards your tiny, broken down apartment. Even though he’s never said it, you like to think he’s grateful for the safe spot to recover after a rough fight.

Today sounds like a really rough fight. It’s been hours already and the reporters are still describing the battle that happened earlier. Four heroes have been rushed to the hospital, and at least one villain was injured before fleeing. It’s disappointing that they don’t tell you who it was, and you’ve been glued to your phone the entire day. It’s not as if you can just call him like a normal person, but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gotten a vague text from an unknown number letting you know he’s alive.

It’s well after dark now, and the wait is driving you crazy. After another twenty minutes, you finally turn off the news and stand up to stretch. It won’t do much for your frazzled nerves, but a shower will at least help relax your tense muscles while you wait for information. You stay there until the hot water runs out then stand in the bathroom, breathing in the remaining steam and trying to take your mind off off him. You’re wrapping a towel around yourself when you’re startled by a sudden, loud SLAM from the other room that scares you half to death.

It’s silent for a minute before you gather enough courage to open the door and peek out. Immediately you let out a sigh of relief at the scene in front of you. Dabi’s standing with his back to you, reeking the distinct scent of ash and smoke that you’ve come to associate with him, his jacket sporting plenty of fresh damage. Blood drips from his knuckles, and it takes you too long to notice the smoldering, fist-sized hole he’s just punched into your wall. Well, that explains the noise.

“Hey,” you begin, but there’s no reaction. Cautiously you step closer. “I...um. I saw what happened, I’m glad you came over.” Still nothing. “Are you okay? Dabi?” You reach out to touch his shoulder, and it breaks him out of whatever thought he’d been focused on.

He spins around to face you and for the first time since you met, you’re actually afraid of him. You’ve never seen him this angry before, glaring at you with a look of rabid fury in his eyes. Automatically you step back but he’s fueled by adrenaline and moves too fast to avoid. His hand latches around your throat and squeezes, holding you in place as his lips crash down on yours. 

The staples decorating his face are warm, a familiar side effect of his quirk, and scrape roughly along your skin as he forces your mouth open for his tongue. His free hand yanks off the towel wrapped around you and gropes at your chest before you can stop him. Your nipples harden at his touch; despite his harsh treatment, he knows more than enough about how to get your pulse racing for him. A calloused thumb rubs over your nipple and he tightens on your neck in response to the moan you let out.

You push at his chest for air, and eventually he releases you with a final, stinging bite to your lower lip. There’s a metallic taste of blood when you swallow. You chance another glance up at him and his grin does nothing to put you at ease; he looks far too much like a wild animal baring his teeth at his prey. “Hey, doll.” He grabs your chin and forces another kiss on you the moment you open your mouth, barely restraining his agitation with every move. The grip on your shoulders is almost painful as he pulls you against his overheated body, his cock already hard beneath his pants. Your skin is so soft and vulnerable compared to his, and you struggle in protest when his nails sink into your arms. “You gonna reject me?” His voice is a snarl when he pulls back next. “Really? After all the shit I’ve been through today?” You can tell from his tone, it’s more of a warning than a guilt trip.

“Sorry,” you offer, rubbing soothing circles into his tense shoulders. “What can I do?” You’re always so obedient for him, practically begging him to leave you bruised and aching. That’s what keeps Dabi coming back more than anything, and the tiny gasp that slips out of you when he pinches sharply on your nipples has him throbbing. You’re such a cute toy for him to play with.

“Get on your knees, slut.” You lower yourself in front of him without an argument, watching him fumble with his belt until he’s able to free his dick for your attention. “Put that fucking mouth to good use.”

You nod, giving him a sweet smile before wrapping your hand around the base and running your tongue over the leaking tip of his cock. Dabi lets out a pleased grunt when you suck gently on the head and release him with a wet pop. You focus on the underside of it, giving slow, gentle kisses to the row of piercings along his shaft. He’s sensitive there, and the horny growl he gives you has your cunt dripping in anticipation. Your other hand moves lower to cup his balls and you trace over his veins, enjoying how they pulse eagerly under your fingers. Carefully you graze along his length, and are rewarded with a violent yank at your hair.

“Cut that teasing shit out before I break your goddamn teeth.” Your apology is muted by his dick shoving back into your mouth. You swirl your tongue over him again, opening wider to take more of his cock past your lips. You know he wants to jam himself down your throat, but you’ll need to work up to that. You bob up and down on him, slowly sucking more of his dick and his hips begin to rock with your movements. A hand weaves into your hair and you wince at the feel of his staples catching on the strands, but he ignores your discomfort in favor of pulling you further around him. “Take me like a good little bitch.”

He keeps the steady pressure on your head but lets you work at your own pace, and soon enough the tip of your tongue is rubbing against the last of his piercings. You’ve only got a few inches left, surely you won’t mind a bit of help. The squeal you let out is muffled as Dabi’s fist tightens around your skull to hold you steady as his hips rut forward, jamming the full length of his cock into your unsuspecting mouth. You’re too busy trying not to gag to appreciate the delighted moan he gives you, your poor throat spasming wildly around the intrusion. You look up at him with watery eyes and he’s smirking at you with pride. “Don’t keep me waiting, doll.”

For a moment you’ve forgotten how to breathe and only kneel there choking on him until he withdraws just a fraction and you remember to take merciful air into your lungs. You relax the muscles as best you can, a difficult task with his dick rammed against your tonsils. You start moving again, letting his strong hand guide you back and forth on his cock exactly how he likes it.You focus on his heavy panting, the obscene things he hisses at you through gritted teeth make you pussy clench. You can tell he’s getting close, and you double your efforts to help him finish.

An unexpectedly harsh buck of his hips has your throat tightening around him on instinct, and his moan signals his impending release. He tugs your head back and pulls out of your mouth, saliva coating every inch of him. You don’t have time to react as his free hand grips his twitching cock, jerking himself for a few seconds before he orgasms, strands of cum spurting out onto your lips and sliding down your chin to your chest. “Fuck,” he sighs. “You look good like that.” He looks down at you expectantly and you get the message. You make a show of running your fingers through the mess, dragging the hot cum further over your breasts and hard nipples then bringing it to your mouth to lick it off. 

Dabi’s insatiable now that you’ve made the mistake of encouraging him. “Up,” he demands, and you scramble to your feet before he can yank you up by your scalp. He inspects your face, admiring his work and his thumb wipes off a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. He kisses you again while his hands roam over your heated skin, and the wetness between your thighs is undeniable. “You sure play innocent when you’re getting soaked over choking on my dick,” he taunts. He doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you instead and dragging you towards your bed. He shoves your face into the pillows and you struggle to lift yourself but he presses on your back to keep you down. You hear him stripping off his clothes and then rough, feverish skin is flush against your own. He gropes at your hips, pulling your lower half onto your knees. “Ass up, slut,” he orders, cock already recovered and rubbing along your dripping folds.

“Dabiii,” you whine, wiggling to make him slide against you. “Just put it in already--ohhh…” He slides in and you get no time to adjust to the stretch of him as he bottoms out without stopping. You’d been nervous about his piercings the first time you slept together, but now they send a shiver down your spine when you feel the warm metal rub inside you. Positioned like this, they stroke over your g-spot with each thrust and you’re babbling praise at him within minutes.

“I never get enough of this pussy,” he murmurs, bruising grip on your ass. “Always so ready to milk my cock, huh?” You dig your fists into the pillow and nod, words catching in your throat as he fucks into you more aggressively. He stretches over you, warm chest pressing against your back while he bites sharply along your neck. You clench down on him and he laughs at you. “That’s my sweet little cumdump.”

“God, Dabi…” you trail off, hissing when his nails sink into your hips to pull you onto him. He hammers inside you faster, chasing his own end and merely taking you along for the ride. This deep, you can feel him throbbing with a need to dominate you; the sounds forced from your abused throat tell him you’re loving every mark and bite he leaves on your naked body. His teeth sink deeper into the smooth skin of your shoulder and you wince. “That hurts,” you complain, trying to squirm and put some distance away from his jaws. He only fucks inside you harder in response, obviously enjoying your struggle.

“That’s the point.” One hand slides over your bruised hip to finger your swollen clit and your back arches up against him. “Oh, shit. Feel how hard you’re squeezing my dick?” You shudder, his ragged voice in your ear makes you feel like you’re burning alive. You bury your face back in the pillows and do your best to keep your cool, but tonight he wants to hear every filthy noise he can urge out of your needy mouth. He releases your hip to yank your head up, grip hard enough that for a moment you wonder if he’s actually trying to snap your neck. “You’re gonna make everyone in this piece of shit building know who’s fucking you.”

That’s how it always is with Dabi. He gets to keep some sense of self respect when he comes, while you’re reduced to a squealing mess for him. His fingers grow merciless as they tease your clit, demanding louder cries from you with every touch. “Don’t stop,” you pant, the tension inside you straining to the breaking point. “I’m gonna...fuck, there!” You hadn’t realized that he was just as close, and the steady twitch of your pussy around him is enough to send him over the edge. “Feels so...D-Dabi!”” you wail, feeling every drop of his hot cum pooling inside you. Your own orgasm feels like fire in your veins as your greedy cunt takes everything he’ll give you, battered voice begging for it. You’d be embarrassed with yourself if your brain hadn’t effectively shut down long before this point.

He releases you, letting your spent body drop face-first into the bed while he rides out his pleasure. You can feel the punishing smack of his hips slow to a lazy grind before he finally pulls out. He looks down at your exhausted, marked up form and gives a solid slap to your bruised ass to bring you back to your senses. “You good?”

“...Ugh. Good enough,” you mumble. You lay there boneless and immobile while he stretches and wanders off to your bathroom. You hear the shower turn on and an insult shouted out at the freezing water, and manage to pull yourself up to a sitting position by the time he comes out. Of course he’s scrubbing the remaining ash out of his hair with your last clean towel. “Wow, you look like shit,” he taunts as he collects his clothes.

“Yeah, well fuck you too.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach when he smirks at you in return. “You couldn’t handle that again.” He shoves his boots back on and to your surprise, leans over to kiss you. “Gonna lay low for a week maybe. Fix your hot water before I get back.”

You roll you eyes. “You make a lot of demands for a guy who doesn’t live here.”

He shrugs, pulls his jacket around himself and heads for the door. “That’s your fault, doll.”

The door slams behind him and you sigh, your limbs protesting as you stretch your sore muscles. You’re left alone with your thoughts, and outside the heat of the moment you wonder if you should feel guilty. You’re not stupid; you know what he is, and that some day this is all going to end badly for both of you. Still, in your heart you know that you’ll never be able to turn him in to the heroes. Maybe it’s some misplaced sense of loyalty, maybe it’s just the sex, but you hate the idea of seeing him caught.

He’s trouble, but he’s your stray. 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 16)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 15.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: A horny and insecure witcher decided to talk what his mind has been keeping; making you see how much of a man he was that was worth to choose and be chosen. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+. (Yep. Again. Love it while it lasts, bb’s. Hehehe.) Some witcher in a rut. Finger sucking. Cream pie. Smut. Size kink. (I meant Geralt’s body build. LMAO *I base this story on the show. Not the game or books.*) an irritated bard? Ahehehehe. Nakedness? Geralt being soft and honest? (*screams*)

A/N: I was drained from the last chapter and I’ve taken a break. I was supposed to not update today due to it. I hope you can lend at least a minute to reblog or give me feedback, ghost readers out there! 💟 There ain’t no moments like this anymore because the plot will take its place on the next chapters! ENJOY WHILE IT LASTS!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi (GIF credits: littlechinesedoll)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

GERALT OF RIVIA WAS IN A RUT.

You were sure he was after being fucked into oblivion by the witcher for countless of times already; taking a lot of orgasms in just about eight hours? He was lucky that he was a mutant. However, in your side? It was unfortunate because your stamina was weaker than his.

Your poor punani has been overworked and wrecked again. Lungs seem to be incapacitated, dangerously reaching the critical level for accepting Geralt's wishes; another round of ceaseless bliss in which you certainly didn't defy. Pants and wheezes were muddled against the mattress as you shoved your face on it, vigorously being burrowed from behind.

Here you thought; feeling mighty and confident that you could take and last for how long his enhanced self would.

Technically, you were wrong. Utterly wrong.

Was it round twenty-five already? Thirty? You may never know because every time Geralt finishes, his girth somehow magically becomes stone hard again like he never spilled himself inside you. If only he wasn't sterile, you were probably about to get pregnant with little witchers somehow based on how he always milks you in; like you were his pet, letting you take it good.

The white wolf's libido was overly developed as well. As you were told by the man, himself. He could go on for hours, days and even weeks, nailing you repeatedly until you have no energy to comprehend what was happening, and you were sure that his enhancement with the desires he had was a perk and also a disadvantage for your weak self who had her virginity taken just days ago.

Your sexual experiences are being expanded and learned by Geralt, not knowing before that you had a size kink of being choked in his own weight above yours, baptizing every nook and space in their home like animals in heat and being treated like you were such a fragile little thing before being corrupted; tainting your once chastised soul.

The witcher was a person who had given you a different outlook in life. Bringing you to a wonderland in the midst of being railed repeatedly; consistent with his rigorous, shameless pounding from the back. Brusque. Sharp. Perfect for the angle that hits the perfect spot, polishing your hole that has sent you ripples and waves of glory.

Geralt's moans were withdrawn, holding back those sounds of pleasure from ponderously watching his girth push and slither inside your heat. His mouth tightly shut and thick eyebrows scrunched in rapture. Aureate eyes intensely concentrated on his hard cock slowly drilling back, keeping his bulbous head in before slowly drawling back like he like watching you be filled with his girth; admiring how you were stretched around his hardened cock.

He'd felt your body intensely tremble beneath his.

Your knees were quivering with every plunge. Warm drizzles of your cunt leaking with a mixture of his fluid and yours together; like art combined with a color that creates a new one. The room smelled like sex and sweat with a scent of fresh grass because of how the windows were wide opened.

Nobody would see you both in such a debauched position, right? you've thought that when Geralt has lowered you down against the mattress, his weight crushing and pinning you down, quickly getting to his job; sticking his girth inside of you like he never would get tired of doing so after basically baptizing the hallway through the second floor.

Elbows began to feel sore. A desperate whine began to gurgle from your dry throat. Hand tightly grabbing onto one of his that laid on the curvatures of your hips, dragging you back to his swollen girth with every shove; filling you over and over like how you deserved because you've been a good girl. Every time he did, Geralt never misses the spot that could bring you into another restless, writhing orgasm.

The filthy sound of skin slapping on skin came with icherous slimy caresses of your nectar coating each other's carnal greed. Noise came with his bedpost hitting the wall like a maddened gorilla raging out of its cage, when all of a sudden; you've heard Kolby's strange bark that seem to come from the first floor, alarming you both that his family has already came back. Yet, here you were, splayed below the witcher and still getting driven to his extremes.

Geralt pulled his hand away from the bed post, leaving a print and a crack of his hand against the wood. His fingers slid through your dangling breasts, palms groping your teat as he began to knead onto it like a cat trying to suckle from his mother; claws out as he tweaked your sensitive nipple in one breast to the other. Simultaneously changing hands as he continued to reach you both to the edge of Nirvana.

Then, you've heard laughter and complaining downstairs.

"Geralt," you started with a mewl, your body being rocked from behind, the sheets thoroughly disheveled from your tiring day activities. His hand that fondled your teat trailed up your body; while the other glided down for what throbbing nub that was needed attention for another release.

His palm gently met your mouth when you've began to moan from his fingers touching your clit, rubbing and circling it the right, pleasuring way while he went on with his ceaseless ramming.

"Hnnng," you whimpered, voice muffled from his large, calloused hand that covered your mouth; hushing you from any noise that could echo out of the room.

The way he was manhandling you does it. From the moment he tried shushing you up, your heat began to clench around him. Your body squirming and thrashing under his skin. Weakened from the sudden action as it made you tremble; feeling the coil beginning to snap with just a few more jabs.

More thuds and unfathomable complaints echoed outside the room. With Jaskier finally knowing what caused the commotion that he somehow managed to be in. Geralt didn't seem to be bothered about the fact that their table has been wrecked; though, the bard might say otherwise.

His plowing slackened when you’ve felt him breath heavily from behind, 

"Shhhh. Quiet down, midget." he clasped his palms tighter on your mewling mouth; hearing his breathless grunts above you was making you squirm in his hold. It didn't take you another lewd moan when Geralt's thick index and middle finger skid in between the pillows of your lips, an act of pacifying your noise down which has gotten an elicit of your juices flowing down your thighs, soaking you more than ever. But, you never did deliberate to suck on those fingers like how your mind has told you.

The smutty action was enough for him to briefly glance down at you, engrossed and captivated by a never expected bustles from his naive, greenhorn of a woman. 

Another weakened moan was muffled beneath the palm that clasped your mouth. Your fingers trying to wrench his own away from slightly pinching on your sensitive clit, dragging you to where you wanted.

Neverland. Nirvana. Heaven. Where ever you could experience bliss.

Or basically Geralt's bed because you were currently being brought to the edge of the rainbows.

He was persistent and continued rubbing on your nub, his thick, long fingers thoroughly drenched from your arousal. 

"Ugh---Hmm. fuck." the white haired witcher deeply grunted and moaned, his jutting hips bottoming out as he continued his desperate, urgent drives. Thrusts turning reckless. Panting breaths like dogs in heat; embracing every bit of his urgency to reach the floating clouds.

Your real name has slipped out of his tongue, sounding so lewd which has taken you over the edge. Knees began to shake as the high took over. Muscles clenching and also your cunt tightly choking his girth to spill his seed, urging him to thoroughly coat your insides. Another loud breathless grunt left his ajar lips; the sweat dripping down his temples as it also drenched his chest from all the activities. His heartbeat was running miles after miles, chasing to catch yours.

"G-Geralt, Geralt, Geralt!" you've salaciously cried out with every sloppy thrusts in the midst of having a muscle spasm; choking in the blast of euphoria when he'd took his hand off your mouth, grabbing onto yours which has been holding onto the headboards for dear life. Hence, as the witcher pulled your hand away; he'd done the unexpected.

Geralt of Rivia has sweetly peppered the back of your hands with honeyed kisses to soothe your convulsion; treating you like he wasn't fucking you to oblivion nor corrupting you from behind.

You've heard his breath hitch. The way he'd dropped his large hand on the mattress over your small ones, gripping onto it hard; you knew he came. He'd panted heavily above you, the new position being surrounded by his gigantic warmth. Your juices soaking your inner thighs as his load shot inside you. All warm and cozy; giving you a fuzzy feeling inside your chest that you couldn't explain.

He never pulled out until he was finished. You were so full of him, his seed dripping out of your cunt when his semi-flaccid cock dragged out of your overused pussy, telling him how he’d filled you more than he planned to. Your knees eventually buckled and lost its will to be useful for you; your face down on the pillow, running short of breath as you planted over the tousled sheets.

Geralt laid on the bed beside you, his large body built turned to you with an arm tucked below his head. Basking in all his glory and sweat with amber eyes solely worried for your weary form. You sounded like you were wheezing as he hovered over to pull the blankets over your waist, shielding you over the cold, crisp wind of the afternoon dew. Your whole body coated in the satiny sliver of your sweat combined with his and the witcher couldn't help but take in the view that he longed to be habituated once again before you came along.

Did he...actually break you while being drilled? he silently thought at the back of his tousled, half tied chalky white hair.

"Midget?" He softly muttered, using an elbow to peer down before you. Aureate eyes lingering a little bit longer. His fingers extending to graze along the line of sweat that covered your spine before reconsidering, hands ought to brush your disheveled hair away from your face, taking his time as he glided his fingers down through the side of your face.

He doted on the spent image of your sprawled body in the middle of his bed. Your heart turning more warmer than it ever could when you've felt him watching you over, the blankets glazing atop of your skin as you've closed your eyes, trying to steady back your breathing.

"I'm...fine. Just...spent. Let me...breathe," you breathlessly whispered.

"Hmm."

His faint, vibrating hum slowly calmed the fluttering butterflies flapping their wings inside your stomach. He earnestly cast his eyes over you. The thick pad of his fingers tracing along the hairs of your arm; giving you a shiver, padding down till the tips of yours before strikingly filling in the gaps of your fingers with his. Such a simple action making your heart feel snug with a hint of palpitation from the sudden, unusual gesture from the white wolf.

Well, he was certainly learning.

You've taken a peek from under the flat fuzz of your pillows; seeing amiable, tired, tender eyes. Rough, large palms delicately scraping through your soft ones, entwined amongst the unkempt silk of sheets from the result of your passionate tupping.

With your eyes still shut, a jaded admission was sent to the latter; assuming things from your negative state of mind. This always happens in the movies, right? the small voice in the back of your mind stated. After all the blissful moments, complication and problems tries to hinder over the blithe that wanted you to believe that this was a much of a miracle to happen.

It was subtly telling you that your presence in their world had a time limit because you didn't belong to their world in the first place. Salt came pinching down your heart at the sudden realization of that; getting a gist of feeling by choosing to live in their world forever, there were instances that would get you coming back from your dimension. Every felicitious moment feeling like it was all temporary and a fleeting scene in your mind.

The idea struck like a lightning. You didn't belong to their world; nor do you fit in.

Such a change of heart that you wanted to scurry home since the first day you've arrived; thinking that everything was just a dream or a nightmare that couldn't wake you up. But, in this exact moment; you felt like not wanting to go home.

"Why do I feel like you wouldn't come back after your hunt?" you weakly muttered; brushing off the infectious thought that could bring the felicity down; pulling yourself closer to him. You've tossed the bad shadows trying to lure you in as you've focused on the golden light that Geralt could let you see through. His warm breath fanned your face as you heavily sighed out the worry crippling out of your chest.

"You're overthinking." he deeply rasped, hearing him breath steady; sounding like his declaration had a double meaning. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he continued to reassure your troubled self, "---I never leave nor would I plan to. My family is my home,"

Geralt collected his thoughts, breaking through the spell you've always had to cast him in. Only your exquisite scent being the fire to thaw his walls down. It took him seconds before bluntly saying his next words, making you flutter your eyes open to see him softly smiling back at you. His tone warm, comforting and nesh for your sensitive, soft heart soul.

"---you are also my home. I'll always come back to you---always will find you,"

Those words that he stunningly said made your heart skip a beat. The cicatrix glowing beneath the sheets without you knowing, ecstatic of what has come out from his lips as a burst of bliss spread right through your chest.

You've felt the adrenaline rush from his sudden admission and change of aura; abruptly making you nail your elbows on the table, repeatedly blinking back at the witcher when you've felt the balmy cloud of warmth spread around your eyes; close enough for you to cry and you languidly leaned down to his very peaceful face to softly give him a kiss on the lips in which he gladly reciprocated.

No. This wasn't sweet nothings where he tries to win over your heart. His words was a declaration of breaking those walls down for you. It was a key for you to come hopping in, an invitation of seeing the real him; his vulnerable side that nobody ever sees.

Hence, this was the first time you've had someone showing you what it felt to be important, needed and cared for. A person with real intentions. Sensations which you never knew it existed or believed that you would ever get to experience such.

Nevertheless, it took you a trip to another dimension just to have it.

Your mouth left his with a euphonious twang. There was no rush to the kiss or any type of greed. Just a succulent sharing of what you wanted him to feel from your quiet response of what he said. It needed no words of approval or even a shedding of your tears; erasing the worries away if you started bawling your eyes out from his secrets that he whispered. His thick brows furrowed in a questionable expression, intently eyeing your dewy peepers staring back at him. Utterly fond. The witcher feeling as if there was profound affection deep within your eyes as you tried to shield them over with that twinkling gaze of yours.

He knew what he was seeing or feeling from you. But, he chose to ignore as of the moment.

"Jaskier's fond of you," he abruptly admitted, downright apathetic; his gravel tone expressing a mixture of interest and a little bit of doubt, not for you but for himself.

That simple display of what you've visibly felt made your heart soften a lot more than it ever could. Finding it hard to believe that this person slash mutant in front of you also had his own issues, sounding diffident with just conferring about this surprising fact he noticed from his friend who seemed to be catching feelings for you that certainly was quite difficult to believe.

You were biting the tips of your tongue from saying anything further more, pulling back from driving too fast that maybe Geralt was falling behind.

"Jaskier? Your Jaskier? The bard who always tries to ruin my day? you’re hallucinating, Geralt." you wanted to snort from his accusation.

Geralt has given you a dirty look, appearing to look like he has issues with you that he didn't want to expand as he kept his silence and continued to send a grimace. Was he hallucinating? Were he hallucinating when he'd read those words upon your lips hours ago? Was your endearment just a slip of your tongue? A simple caught up in the heat of the moment?

Was he also just hallucinating when you’ve called him ‘love’?

"Am I, really?" the witcher stated flat, sending a displeased hum as he subtly played with the softness of your fingers clutched to his bigger ones.

Your eyes turned wide from his deadpan, "What did I do? That banter sounded sarcastic, kitty!"

The latter slowly blinked, dragging a sigh as his baritone timbre turned stern and also meek no matter how hard he tried to cover it up from the roughness that he wanted it to sound like, you could read between the lines and sure enough, he was self-effacing from his friend who was also fond of you.

"Do...you like the bard?" he hesitatingly trailed off. The question ending with a pause as it sounded completely unforthright. You've given him a tender beam; child like and masking with nothing but innocence, affection and understanding, "Go on. I'm listening. Tell me what's on your mind," you started, seeing his tight lipped mouth shut. Those amber eyes briefly looking away from you,

"---Come on, please? Let me understand and see through the good heart that I've always believed in,"

Geralt gave it a moment. Exactly a minute as you've accepted the tranquil silence with him. Such silence that you have never imagined to be so comforting because back in your apartment, the stillness was eerie and cold; imagining hands trying to take your soul away from surviving a life by working in another country where you had no one but you.

"You're...significant to me." his glowing amber eyes turned heartfelt, shooting warmth through your skin and chest, "---you are a lot to handle. An unorthodox in my dimension. Yet, despite that, you're the havoc I didn't know I needed,"

"You're calling me chaotic. How sweet of you," you deadpanned, snorting from his metaphors that got you successfully rolling your eyes back at him.

"Your existence brought me sheer confusion about you. But, I'd rather have that befuddlement than to not be with you,"

Destiny brought you to him. Those assumptions he'd taken into consideration was now taken into account. Thus, destiny just needed this to not fuck it up. It shouldn't because he much rather not imagine how it would happen nor how he would be able to accept such fate laid before him. 

"Jaskier's...a friend---he's important to me," he continued, feeling your other hand fall onto the side of his face; soft fingers tracing along the scar on his forehead and cheekbones with that glimmer in your eyes that make him want to give you another kiss; readable in your peepers was the acceptance he never knew he needed so badly, "---No matter how annoying he is. He's still my companion. A real...friend. I've seen how comfortable you are with him, saw how compatible you were with the bard,"

You've stopped brushing your fingers along his marks. Your free hand sluggishly propping below your chin as you've peered down. A small grin curling your lips, "When have you been a love guru? Does this version of you come up with a graphic chart that tells how many percentages do I seem to be compatible with Jaskier?"

He kept silent, staring straight into your eyes with a lukewarm expression; not understanding your references.

You've given him a faint raise of your brow, skeptically looking at him with an amused flicker of your peepers, "You've seen us that night. Explains why Jaskier was ranting about the door you've broken,"

Geralt kept his mouth tightly shut, shortly looking away before giving you a pensive response, "I've already fixed it---and you know it was not just about that,"

Pulling your closed fist under your chin, you've tilted your head to the side. Pleased by his tamed reaction as you've leaned closer to his face, adoring Geralt's sublime features that never fails to charm you everyday. His charisma totally knocking your wits out as you could finally see more of his true self.

You started, your words smoothly dancing per word; sounding utmost sincere and in wonder, "People in your world say witchers don't feel emotions," even being disregarded like they weren't humans, you silently added much more to yourself when you paused to talk, "---Well, my witcher is exactly the opposite because you're full of it even though you sound unenthusiastic all the time---comes with the mutations, I guess?"

The soft look in his eyes warmed your soul. Attentive of the stars that seem to float inside those amber pair; looking like he'd caught them for you. He stayed silent, never breaking his gaze away from you nor planning to move away from your body close to his.

"Do you want me to be with the bard?" your question caught him off guard, keenly reading through what your eyes wanted to say. The query sounding like it was just a quip.

"Will that make you happy?"

Geralt warily asked, completely earnest of what he said that made you bite the inner plump of your lips. There was a long amount of silence, contemplating what made him think that way, even considering the idea of never getting in the way when you'll choose another person than him. Was he even real?

Your smile fell a little at the question, swiftly unwrapping your hands entwined with his which ignited a tight frown from the witcher when he miscalculated the sudden gesture. But, those dreadful thoughts ceased when you've poked his muscular chest, the part where his heart loudly beat beneath the pad of your index finger.

"Will that make...YOU happy?" you slowly emphasized and returned the question, intently gazing above him. When he never answered and stayed quiet, it was the right time to say words that couldn't be kept to yourself. You've forgotten to bite your tongue from saying anything further less.

"---But, YOU make me happy, Geralt of Rivia. Isn't that enough reason to choose you?"

Keen golden eyes deeply gazed into yours, as genuine than it has ever been before; sucking you in and having no chance to escape from the resplendent color of his hues. Geralt moved beneath to help himself by using his elbow, his sudden elevation making you tilt your head back to see him deeply staring, mouth turning into a tight straight line as he rasped.

"Even if it takes for your life back in your world to be taken away from you---fuck." he abruptly stopped in the middle of his sentence, briskly taking a glimpse of the door behind you when he could hear stealthy padded footsteps hiking up the stairs. 

Jaskier.

Geralt sharply sat his back on the headboard. His silvery, unkempt half-tied hair moving as he does so, the white sheets pooling just below his torso. He looked bedraggled and utterly sweaty which made it feel so fulfilling to have him in your presence looking like that. A miraculous snack. You could never have this opportunity back in earth.

You bit your lips from keeping yourself from grinning, curiously eyeing him as you mused. He deliberately scanned your exposed back, "What? What's happening?"

The latter took no questions and quickly pulled the covers over your shoulders as you laid on your front, slightly elevated with the help of your arms tucked under. He loudly sighed, sitting back on the wooden board. Recognizable footfall thumping louder and closer before a wind up bard barged in the room without knocking or announcing his presence.

"You two!" Jaskier exclaimed, ceasing midway in the middle of the room; looking lost and piqued. His pretty face morphed into a tight frown to find you and Geralt utterly rumpled under the sheets. You tossed a look over your shoulder to see the bard straight up crashing inside like there has been no lock or whatsoever.

Geralt motioned with his hands, palms on either side to show how taken aback he was from his friend who came trudging in like he owned the place. His face hinting with displeasure. Wordlessly gesturing towards the bard with a 'What the fuck?' face.

You skeptically hushed whispers beside the witcher, timidly pulling the covers over your wild head, looking stunned as you exclaimed, "I thought you locked the room? I told you to lock it!---What if it was Cirilla?!---Don't you know what a lock is, Geralt?!"

Despite of your panicking and embarrassed state, he was entirely the opposite as he sounded lackadaisical, going on by glaring at the bard who has his face scrunched in utmost displeasure, "I didn't expect them to arrive home this early." the witcher rolled his eyes from his galled self and sent a scowl towards the bard.

Jaskier raised his brow in disbelief, "Early? We've been gone for 8 hours, Geralt!"

"Well, I thought you'll be gone for at least a day and not barge in our room after we had a 'moment', Bard. A knock would’ve suffice."

Another set of padded footsteps, this time it sounded like this person was merrily hopping through the hallway. Until a ball of Ashen hair peeked through the opened doorway with a short Hirikka standing in the middle of the threshold.

"I'm here---woah!" Cirilla seemed to be knocked out of her boots when she saw you emerging from under the covers, bashfully covering your chest with the sheets, looking mortified by everyone seeing you in that kind of state. You were glaring at the witcher who tossed your off the side for a while as he dealt with his scandalous and crazy family.

"---I knew it!" the princess of Cintra loudly clapped and jumped on her feet. Her excitement immediately dying down when she noticed that you both weren't actually clothed beneath the white blankets. She firmly crossed her arms, her nose scrunching in disgust, "---Also, gross! Please do lock the doors next time!"

She whistled at the flabbergasted Hirikka who was sniffing the whole room in bewilderment; stout stopping before the bard as he sniffed him loudly enough for Jaskier to wave his face off away from his face. Cirilla whistled another, catching the beast's attention and making Geralt wince due to his heightened hearing, "Kolby, let's go! I'm giving you a nice warm bath!" before she shut the door closed behind them when he'd run off towards the princess.

Geralt and Jasker were giving each other stern glares; seeming to be in a challenge where one shouldn't back down despite of how mean it appeared to be like.

Jaskier was the first to talk, beginning his interrogation, "Who ruined the dining table?"

You swallowed the butterflies wanting to fly out of your throat, lifting a shaky finger to point at the witcher who was still as he sat on his side of the bed, "I’m definitely not the person who has superpowers here---It's him," but, Geralt seemed to answer in the same time with you.

"No one."

Jaskier didn't seem to want and take everyone's bullshit as he crossed his arms in front of you both. Geralt's clothes on one hand and yours in the other that made a blush go straight up your whole face, burning the dignity that was left. You wanted to yell from how irresponsible you were for leaving your clothes all around the house when you promised yourself that it'll be fixed after your activity.

You didn't expect Geralt to take eight hours---or you did?----and actually forgot what was needed to remember.

"Oh, no one, Geralt? I suppose this shirt is also owned by no one, considering how unclad you are right now? Hmm. Would this tunic come from the Hirikka then?" the toubadour raised his hand where Geralt's black under tunic has been balled up.

Jaskier dramatically puffed out a sigh, sounding like it was the end of the world for what has welcomed them when they came back from their weekly visit for Cuthbert. He held forth about your sudden shenanigans around the house like a father delivering a tirade.

"We leave for eight hours and this is what you both welcomed us in," pause. "---A broken bloody table where we dine!" Another pause as he threw Geralt's clothes at his face in which he caught it perfectly, "---your clothes everywhere in the house like snakes who shed their skins anywhere they go!"

Lastly, his foot fidgeted on the wooden floors, tapping in anxiety as he remembered that tiny scratch he had seen on his beloved musical instrument, entirely galled from the wound it received like it was his baby.

"---and also my lute---my beloved lute falling on the floors! You've hurt her!"

"We didn't touch your lute," Geralt's response was tepid, lazily blinking back at the enraged bard who stood in the middle of the room.

Jaskier's raised his hands to his hips, raising a finger and opening his mouth, expression wild and ready to send another harangue before back paddling inside his train of thoughts.

He briefly shut his mouth, tilting his head to the side as he wondered out loud, "Oh, maybe the air pushed it to fall. I remembered how I left the windows opened too. However---!"

Geralt cut his verbal onslaught, his gaze narrowing at Jaskier who also didn't back down at sending a nasty lour at the entertained witcher.

"I'll fix whatever is needed to fix, bard. Stop your whining," you've felt the bed squeak and bounce. Geralt slipped his legs out of the sheets, feet plopping down the floors as he heavily sighed. It needed power; manpower for Jaskier to leave the room and Geralt knew he wouldn't leave until he pushes him out of the threshold.

The witcher stood tall and firm, completely au naturel from head to foot like how he have been when he was a baby, stark naked without being moved by the idea that Jaskier was in the same room as you. His bare ass never shaking him off and so does the bard.

"Leave. Out of my chambers, Jaskier."

Geralt sauntered to where he is. Your eyebrows raising in amusement as you've marveled over the witcher in the nude. His beautiful, rugged bare back on show with that A+ rating of his derriere in which you freely tried to memorize inside your head.

Though, you couldn't help but take a glimpse of Jaskier who seemed unfazed by this whole nakedness he was seeing; like he was familiar of the whole thing and the white wolf's dangly bits hanging and it has peaked your curiosity.

Do they bathe together then?

The bard has seen your amused smile with a skeptical brow raised to what you were witnessing. Thus, he peeked around Geralt to acknowledge your curiosity; pointing at you with a roguish grin, "That face tells that you have been swimming deep inside the vast depths of the sea, wondering why I am not bothered by the witcher's nudity---"

"Jaskier," Geralt sent a tired warning and held his slim shoulders, forcefully turning him around as he pushed him forward, towards the door.

"---It's because I have rubbed chamomile onto his lovely bottom before! It was true! I never lied! It was a part of the rules in becoming the rightful travel companion until you came along and began rubbing it for himself! Though, I doubt you did it to join our adventures!---"

You couldn't help but stifle your tee-hee from his admission. Finding their friendship amazing to the point that he does it for Geralt; receiving nothing but his altruism and adventures that the witcher has shared together with him.

Geralt loudly closed the door behind Jaskier; his mouth running on and on about how such a change of habits it has been when you came in their life. He'd knock a lot of times, calling out for the both of you and trying to want and barge in your moment but your white wolf finally knew what a lock is and slid the wooden block over the hook to lock his chambers.

"He seriously rubs chamomile on your butt?"

The skyclad man turned on his heel, raising a skeptical brow as you tried to focus hard on his face and not his body that stood before you.

"I guess that silence means yes, then. Oof, such bromance! Don't you think I'm the one who's actually becoming a hindrance between your platonic relationship with your bard?"

"Ridiculous." He took several steps closer, making you turn your head from becoming too flustered over his glorious, scarred body that he certainly isn't afraid or diffident about his imperfections anymore after you've treated them like it was a part of him that you will always accept. Geralt sat on your side, reaching over the bedside table to look beneath the drawers.

The latter placed a small, transparent bottle on your hand. A clear yellowish tone of liquid inside as you stared at it, thoroughly intrigued, "What's this? Is it another one of your witcher potions?"

Geralt hummed in negation, lifting his calloused hand to take your chin in between his fingers, turning your head to look at his ardent, shining amber, "Eucalyptus Oil. Took it from Cirilla's chambers. For you---For later. Perhaps, our recent activities had you feeling utterly spent,"

You've blinked, taken aback from his plans for whatever it is he wanted. Though, it didn't take you to put two on two together to know where his plans would take you, "Why are you---Oh. I know. I definitely know what you want." pause. "---you are insatiable, Geralt."

Geralt gently nudged your chin, tilting it up to his advantage as he leaned down to press a soft buss to your lips. Once again, he'd took your breath away by how tender he was handling you. The mere opposite of what people see and expected from because they never had the chance to walk through him; they didn’t have the courage to know who he really was.

His thumb that rested upon your chin were easily replaced with his lips, kissing you on the spot before gliding the dimples of his nose to yours, subtly giving you an Eskimo kiss.

"My overly developed lechery certainly comes from the mutation,"

Geralt's mouth lifted into a small, unusual beam, fluttering his eyes closed as he concentrated on you and that specific comfort he found. Questions came hitting him like stones, breaking the mirthful bubble that he was brought in.

He didn't want you to go home anymore because he'd found home in you.

But, what if fate had move mountains and threw his happiness away again? Leaving him no choice but to watch you go?

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means I can’t tag you, bb’s! 💖) @alyxkbrl​​ @himarisolace​​ @barkingbullfrog​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​​ @vania-marie​​ @spookypeachx​ @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​ @nympeth​​ @amirahiddleston​​ @gabethelobster​​ @dreaming-about-starfleet​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​ @melaninstylezz​​ @psychosupernatural​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​ @marvelousell​​ @kingniazx​​ @angelias134​​ @tapismyforte​​ @chook007​​ @covid-donotenter​​ @winter-moons​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @silverkitten547​​ @angelofthor​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum​, @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a--1--1--3​, @gutfucks​​,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​

General taglist for Henry: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​,

[king-finnigan]

A Whiter Shade of Pale

What a Wonderful World Masterlist. Also on AO3!

Day 3 of Whumptober! On the menu today is the alternative prompt: water.

~~~

One second Jaskier’s there, the next, he’s gone.

Geralt drops the flowers he’s been collecting for a potion, straightening as he looks over the snowed-under field stretching out in front of him. He’d been occasionally looking up, checking in on Jaskier every few seconds as the bard played around in the snow a bit – laying down to make an angel, making small snowmen that are now littered across the field, throwing snow in the air and looking on with a smile on his face as it gently falls back down.

But sometime between the last time Geralt looked, and now, Jaskier has simply… vanished.

Geralt rubs his eyes. Maybe it’s just the light reflecting off the snow that’s playing tricks on him; but when he looks up again, Jaskier still isn’t there.

He frowns, walking towards where he last saw Jaskier – somewhere a hundred feet away or so – looking around frantically. It’s not as if the snow is deep enough for the bard to hide in, or that he could’ve run into the treeline, somehow. Geralt would’ve seen Jaskier if he’d run, the treeline is too far away. Not to mention that he would’ve heard his footsteps.

It doesn’t make sense.

At least, it doesn’t until he’s halfway between where he was collecting flowers and where he saw Jaskier last. It doesn’t, until he nearly slips and falls on a smooth surface. It doesn’t until he hears ice creaking threateningly under him as he shifts his weight to keep his balance.

He looks down, wiping the thin layer of snow away with his foot, his worst suspicions confirmed: this isn’t a field at all. It’s a frozen lake.

His heart skips a beat before it starts racing, cold panic an dread flooding him as he starts running. The ice gasps and groans, but holds up under his feet. It’s only when he sees a dark spot where cold water has washed over the ice, melting away the snow, that he slows down, careful not to step on any spot that might be too thin to hold his weight.

More careful than Jaskier had been, apparently. There’s a large hole in the ice, and Geralt’s quick to take off his armour, hands fumbling with the buckles, as he tries to control his breathing. The last thing either of them needs is him hyperventilating or having a panic attack.

He shivers as he strips down to his smallclothes, tossing his things to the side, before plunging into the freezing lake.

Cold water envelops him immediately, and he struggles not to seize up, to lose control over his muscles. He takes half a second to gather himself, then, he starts swimming, down, down, down, towards Jaskier, who’s near the bottom of the lake by now, arms hanging limply above him, hair floating around his head, skin pale.

His lungs struggle to hold in air as he swims and swims, impossibly far down; his chest is burning by the time he reaches Jaskier. He quickly grabs Jaskier’s shirt, hauling him up and holding him against his chest, as he plants his feet against the rocks at the bottom of the lake, pushing himself up towards the surface.

After his initial momentum has died down, he starts kicking his feet, one hand pushing down water, the other holding Jaskier tightly to him – but the combined weight of both of them proves a harder task than he thought it would be, the cold water making his muscles seize up, the lack of oxygen getting to him sooner than he thought it would.

He struggles to get them closer to the surface, black spots already dancing in his vision, fingertips and toes growing number by the second. He kicks harder and harder, muscles burning, lungs spasming as his body desperately screams for air. His grip on Jaskier starts to falter, and he has to still for half a second to readjust his arm, to make sure Jaskier doesn’t slip away and starts sinking to the bottom of the lake again.

Finally, he breaches the surface, gasping in lungfuls of fresh, crisp winter air. He stays there for a few seconds, until the black spots have disappeared from his vision, until he no longer feels like he’s going to pass out any second.

Then, he puts his hands under Jaskier’s armpits and hoists him up onto the ice, sliding him away from the jagged and frail edges of the hole, before they break off and take Jaskier down with them again. He pushes himself out of the water, crawling towards Jaskier, where he’s laying limply in the snow, face pale, lips blue.

He turns Jaskier on his back, putting two freezing fingers against the bard’s neck. No pulse.

He tries to push the panic away, not really managing, as his own heart starts to beat faster and faster, dread settling in his bones as he tilts Jaskier’s chin back and pinches his nose shut. He leans forward, pressing his lips over Jaskier’s, pushing in a lungful of air, before pulling away and breathing in deeply, repeating the action once more.

He puts his hands over Jaskier’s chest, the heel of his hand pushing into the wet doublet, and he realizes in the back of his mind that even if he manages to get Jaskier to breathe again, the bard might die anyways of hypothermia – especially if he keeps those wet clothes on. But that’s a worry for later.

For now, Geralt pushes down. He closes his eyes in horror as he feels Jaskier’s breastbone snap beneath his fingers, trying to keep down the bile rising in his throat whenever it shifts against his palm. Up, down, up, down, up, down. He tilts Jaskier’s head back, pushes more air into his lungs. Up, down, up, down, up, down. His muscles burn, still not fully recovered from the lack of oxygen, screaming out their displeasure against this sudden onslaught of activity.

Up, down, up, down, up, down.

His lips sealing over Jaskier’s, pinching the bard’s nose between his fingers, and breathing out as forcefully as possible, seeing Jaskier’s chest rise in the corner of his eye.

Then, suddenly, Jaskier pulls away and to the side, heaving and retching as he throws up rivers of water onto the snow and ice, coughing and spluttering as his body struggles to get it out of his lungs.

Geralt sighs, relieved, and he slaps Jaskier on the back as the bard continues hacking up more and more water, desperately gasping in air.

“Fuck,” Jaskier mutters, voice raw. “What…”

“You fell through the ice,” Geralt says, hand still on Jaskier’s back, rubbing soothing circles into his wet doublet. “Nearly drowned.”

Jaskier turns on his back again, teeth clattering as he shivers, eyes fixed on the pale, blue sky. “Fuck.”

“Hmm.” He pulls at Jaskier’s shoulders, managing to get him to sit up, before he starts pulling at those wet clothes. “Let’s get you into something dry.”

Jaskier nods, clumsy hands pulling at his expensive – now drenched and ruined – clothes haphazardly, goosebumps rising along his arms and legs. “C-c-c-cold,” he stammers, nearly biting his tongue as his teeth clatter together relentlessly.

“I know,” Geralt says. “Hold on.” He reaches for his dry clothes, a few feet away, tugging his shirt over Jaskier’s head as Jaskier pulls on the breeches. The clothes are too big for the bard and cold from lying in the snow all this time, but dry nonetheless.

He leaves his armour and Jaskier’s wet clothes on the ice – he’ll return for those later – as he gathers Jaskier in his arms, pressing him against his chest. He makes his way over to the shore, careful to step around any thin spots in the ice, lest they get a repeat of what happened a mere fifteen minutes ago, releasing a soft sigh in relief when his feet touch solid ground again.

He lowers Jaskier on the ground next to Roach, who looks at them curiously as he starts pulling cloaks and blankets out of her saddlebags, wrapping them around Jaskier. With a knife, he cuts off a few low-hanging branches from the trees – he doesn’t have time to search for firewood – laying them on the ground in a haphazard pile, lighting it with a quick Igni.

“Geralt,” Jaskier mutters, and Geralt’s immediately by his side, frantically searching Jaskier’s face for any sign that he might be falling asleep. “Geralt,” Jaskier whispers again. “Y-your clothes.”

Geralt frowns, looking down and realizing he’s still in his smallclothes. He curses softly, pulling a clean shirt and breeches out of his pack, quickly putting them on before gathering Jaskier’s still trembling form in his arms, rubbing warmth into his back.

“I’m tired, Geralt.”

“I know,” he says, pulling Jaskier’s head into his shoulder, casting the smallest Igni he possibly can, hovering his warm hand over Jaskier’s back, making the bard shudder. “I know. Don’t fall asleep, Jask.”

Jaskier doesn’t respond, and Geralt panics, frantically rubbing more warmth into Jaskier’s back, moving him closer to the fire.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he whispers, heart beating painfully loud as cold panic floods him. “Don’t you dare die on me, Jask.” His breathing is shaky, eyes stinging as tears start to gather. “’I’ll never forgive you if you die. I love you too much to lose you, godsdammit.”

He rocks them both back and forth gently, still trying his best to warm Jaskier up, to keep his heart from stopping.

It feels like hours – though it can’t be more than a few minutes – before he finally feels Jaskier stir against him, weak arms coming up to grab the back of Geralt’s shirt, to pull him close. Jaskier sighs, mutters something against Geralt’s shoulder, and Geralt has to pull back a bit.

“What was that?”

“I love you too,” Jaskier mumbles against his shirt.

He stills, not sure if he heard that right. “You… you love me?”

Jaskier nods, tilting his face up. There’s a healthy blush to his cheeks, and his lips are no longer blue, eyes open and aware and sparkling, and Geralt can’t stop the sigh of relief that escapes him.

“I do,” Jaskier whispers.

“Well, I- I love you, too.”

Jaskier grins up at him, and the sight of him so alive and happy nearly makes Geralt weep – he’d been so sure he’d lose Jaskier, not so long ago, he’d been so sure he’d never get the chance to see him smile again. “I know, Geralt, you already said that.” He reaches up, planting a small kiss to the corner of Geralt’s lips. “But say it again.”

Geralt smiles, ghosting his lips over Jaskier’s. “I love you.”

“You know,” Jaskier mutters. “I don’t think our very first kiss went well – I was a bit preoccupied with dying, you see. I want to redo it.”

Geralt smiles, softly capturing Jaskier’s lips with his own. It’s a chaste kiss, lasts no more than a second, but it’s already more than Geralt ever could’ve dreamed of having.

“Hmm,” Jaskier muses. “I don’t know…”

“Want another redo?”

“Yes, please.”

And, well, how can Geralt say no to that?

[blewink]

tease // bc

warnings: dom!chan, brat! reader, toy play, sexting(ish), oral (receiving), fingering, and a little cute sh*t at the end

a/n: this was written a while ago and was just sitting in my drafts and i didn’t feel like editing it so i hope y’all like it! - blue💙

You never really thought of yourself as a brat, in fact whenever Chan gave you rules, you never went against them. So when you did break a rule the night before by cumming without permission, Chan decided to give you a light yet effective rule. No touching without permission.

Before Chan left for work that day he made sure to tell you the rule again. You promised to him that you could control yourself and with that he kissed you goodbye and you were left alone in your shared apartment.

Hours passed and it had all been fine, you had mindlessly watched TV and ate a couple snacks. You then wandered back to your room to probably look at your phone for the time being, until Chan came home. When you walked in, you jumped into your bed and you felt a small rounded rubber object under Chan’s pillow. You reached under the pillow, confused as to what it was. As you finally saw it, you gasped and felt yourself soak your panties a bit. It was the vibrator that had caused you to break the rule from the previous night.

With this sudden wave of horniness, you felt yourself getting more and more needy. You noticed you had started softly grinding on your blankets. Remembering Chan’s punishment, you groaned as you fell back on the bed. You tried to think of other things other than Chan’s hands, his voice just anything to stop you from breaking the rule.

Suddenly an idea popped in your head: he never said anything about teasing right? You reach for your phone and open the camera. You prop it up against a pillow and begin shooting a video. You crawl away from the phone and begin arching your back, accentuating the curve of your ass. By wearing one of Chan’s loose t-shirts, you could probably see your breasts. You turn around and sit on your knees trying to look as innocent as possible. You grab the hem of your shirt and begin lifting it, before too much is exposed you end the video.

With a short review of the video and cutting a bit from the beginning and end, you thank god for it have been golden hour. It made your skin look like it was glowing and overall you were satisfied with the outcome. You then open the messaging app and quickly send the video to Chan. It’s only a couple of minutes until you get a response. You unlock your phone. “Is my baby trying to break the rules?” You respond “What do you mean Channie? I just wanted to show you how pretty golden hour was.” He responds in seconds “Whatever you’re trying to do, it isn’t gonna end well for you sweetheart.” You respond with a quick: “I’m not trying to start anything, my intentions are only pure 🥰” He simply ends with “No touching. I’ll be home in an hour.” You answer “Yes sir.”

You didn’t intend on keeping your promise and you never did. You wanted to see where this would go, you never broke the rules and it was giving you a bit of a high if you were being honest. You walked over to your closet and pick out a box. Inside you found all the toys that Chan likes to use on you. Vibes and a couple Dildos, yeah you guys were fairly vanilla. You finally settle on a baby blue dildo with a suction end.

Whenever you bought a new dildo, you would always pick one that was smaller than Chan. While you would never admit this to him, you always loved the stretch Chan would give you. You picked up a textbook that you no longer needed and put the dildo on it. You then propped it under you on a pillow. As you slowly lowered yourself, you left a few whimpers slip out. You satisfied your neediness a bit but you wanted more.

You moved your hips up and down, the dildo filling you up over and over. The sensation slowly becoming addictive. You no longer cared if your neighbors heard you, loud moans and whimpers filled the room. You lowered your hand to your clit and rubbed slow circles. The pleasure shot through your body causing you to tremble and close your eyes. You felt your wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the bed and textbook. You open your eyes and look across the room and see yourself in your full body mirror. Your cheeks had a light red flush to them, you then take off your shirt and immediately the coldest of the room causes you to shiver.

You angle yourself so you can see better through the mirror. You never noticed your new fetish of watching yourself but you were enjoying it. You continued to ride the dildo, whimpering wishing it was Chan’s cock instead. You watched as your pussy glistened in the sun and took the dildo as if it was made for it. Your pace was slowing down as you watched in astonishment as the dildo disappeared into your small pussy.

A deep voice interrupts you. Chan’s dark voice filled the room, “Are you enjoying what you’re watching babygirl?” You surprised, covered up yourself with a blanket lying on the bed. “Getting shy are we?” Chan says as one of his eyebrows cocks up. Your face warms up as you clench around the dildo, remembering that it was still in you. “n-no” you stutter. “I was just surprised” You see his jaw clench and his eyes darken. You had never see him this upset before but you were willing to pick his buttons a little further. “I gave you one rule and you broke it.” He says through gritted teeth. You slyly respond “I think you’re just upset that this dildo is filling me up better than you can.”

He responds “You should watch your pretty little mouth babygirl ” You let the blanket drop, exposing your naked upper half. You answer him by saying “Maybe you should show me how to” He walked towards the bed, you could practically feel yourself falling into sub space. Nothing could make you feel better than making Chan feel good. You began regretting your words but you still felt curious to see how Chan was when you had pissed him off.

He gripped the blanket so hard you could see his knuckles turn white. You worriedly told him, “I’m sorry Channie, I didn’t want to make you angry. I just wanted to see how far I could push you.” As you looked in his eyes, you saw them soften for a bit. He lifted his hand to your cheek and he rubbed it for a while. He looked into your eyes and said, “It’s alright baby. I want to see where this goes too. I’m not angry with you but I need to show you that when you break the rules, you get punished. Do you understand?” You leaned into his hand, still on your cheek. You let out a small “yes.” Chan hummed back in approval. “Do you remember your color baby?” You nodded quickly, “Pink.”

With that, Chan asked you to lay back. You had forgotten about the dildo, so when you went to lay down, it barely grazed your sweet spot. You froze and the small whimper you let out didn’t go unnoticed by Chan either. “What is it baby?” You could tell he was teasing by the tone of his voice. He knew damn well what just occurred. You mumbled something along the lines of “nothing” but telling by the smirk on his face you could tell he had something in mind.

He lightly pushed you down, causing the dildo to fully pull out of you. You pouted at the feeling of being empty. He took the dildo off the book and threw the book on the side of your bed. He brought the dildo up to your mouth and you knew what that meant. You opened your mouth, you wanted to cum tonight and you were going to do anything Chan said. He pushed the dildo further into your mouth until you gagged. Tears began stinging your eyes, as Chan saw this he said “What? If you can take my cock, cant you take this?”You could only hum something to him and he pulled the dildo out.

Putting it to the side. He wiped your tears with his hands, placing a small kiss under each eye. He leaned back to look at you in awe. You felt his loving gaze burn into your skin. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” You felt your cheeks grow red. He moved to the side of the bed to rid himself of his shirt. As he got off to remove his pants and boxers, you watched the muscles of his back. They were smooth yet structured, the sun creating shadows in all the right places. Out of habit, your hand began wandering to your clit. You began slowly rubbing and moaning softly while watching him. Chan whipped around only to you squirming in pleasure. He stood there for almost ten seconds before he said “No touching.” Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away. He then got on top of you, framing you between his arms.

He dove, his lips pressing against yours. You let soft moans out while your hands wandered all over his chest, arms and shoulders. He began moving down your chest and slowly to where you needed him the most. You spread your legs and Chan immediately began teasing you. Kissing your inner thighs, everywhere but your desperate cunt. “Please Chan! Please!” He looked up at you, “What do you want baby? Use your words.” Frustrated, you quickly screamed “I want you to make me feel good.” He clicking his tongue, “You’re going to have to be more specific. I can make you feel good in so many ways.” Desperate to feel anything you said, “Your fingers, your mouth, tounge. Anything!” Chan let out a small “Good girl” before he gave your pussy a lick. He was eating you out like it was his last meal. Sucking on your clit causing your body to spasm by the sudden pleasure. He had never done it like this before. It wasn’t long before you felt is hands wanderingto your tight hole. He started with one finger, he only went about an inch in but you wanted more.

You moved your hips to try and make him go deeper but he was quick to hold you down. “Don’t be a brat and use your words like I told you to.” His dominance made you grow wetter, if that was even possible. “Oh? You like it when I talk to you like that?” Ignoring his comment you whispered out, “Deeper.” And like that, he plunged his finger as deep as it could go. “More,” He then added two. You let out a gasp as you felt his thick fingers stretch you out. He kept at a steady pace, not too slow but also not too slow. You felt your orgasm getting closer. You began pulling at his hair and your moans were getting louder. You chanted “Don’t stop” over and over again. His pace began picking up and the pleasure was making your vision fuzzy as you felt your orgasm wash over you. He continued to work at your clit driving you into overstimulation. You pushed at him to stop and he came up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and tounge.

You felt his cock pressing against your thigh. You grabbed it and gave it a few strokes. He let out a few stuttered moans. “Fuck” he groaned. You brought your hand back up to cup his check and give him another kiss. Midway, he pushed his cock in causing you to let out a soft gasp. Once he was fully in, he looked at you. Giving him a nod of reassurance, he began rocking his hips. His cock hitting your sweet spot almost immediately. “God, you’re taking me so well baby.” Your pussy was still sensitive from cumming but Chan didn’t care. He began fucking you at a fast pace. You loved hearing his soft grunts and moans. While he was punishing you, he still liked praising you. “You’re doing do good baby. Such a good girl for me.” The praises only bringing you closer to your second orgasm of the night.

By the way his cock began twitching and his heavy breathing, you could tell he was close. You brought your hand to clit and began rubbing circles. As your pussy tightens around his cock, you start cumming. No noise comes out of you but Chan’s grunts keep going. Your spasming core causing for his warm release to spill into you. He gives a few more strokes until he slowly pulls out, his cum not far behind. You shiver in due to over stimulation and the sensation of his seed dripping out. He quickly gets a towel to clean you up. You lay on the bed, exhausted, and Chan comes back quickly to cuddle. As he holds you in his arms, he rubs small circles on the skin on your back. You’re about to fall asleep when Chan says softly, “We have to shower angel.” With a sigh you tell him to carry you to the bathtub. Once in the bath, you got all clean, then changed into comfy clothes before spending the rest of night snuggling and watching TV.

[starryseung]

Professor jisung au pls! Make it smutty ;)

han jisung + smut

☾ 

word count: 1.2k words warnings; professor!han, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight spanking

Lessons

You walk over to the huge desk which was almost the size of your dining table, handing your test answers to your professor, Mr. Han. He liked being called Mr. Jisung or just simply Jisung since he was rather young than the other teachers in the college.

He looks at you with a smile, reaching out his hand to take the piece of paper from your hands. He looked ethereal like this. He looked beautiful even when he wasn't doing anything. How his long fingers look like holding the paper, running through his hair, or when you imagined them curled deep inside of you, pumping them as your tight walls clench around his digits. You shudder at the thought as you walk back, a smirk not leaving Jisung's lips.

Jisung would always hold you back after school to tutor you for the extra credits you needed, fucking you raw on the teacher's table; bending you over on the class's top student Taehwa's desk, pounding into you like there's no tomorrow; eating you out like a man starved— he really didn't leave any place in the classroom where you weren't fucked senseless.

And that's what was going to happen today as well after he checks through the answers you've written on your paper. You walk back to your seat, sitting down as you look at Jisung pierce his eyes through you. Every single answer you had written was wrong. Some basic solutions, which anyone with a second-grade education could answer, were left blank. Jisung knows what you're in for today, and he's definitely not going to hold himself back.

As the day almost comes to an end, all the students walk up and hand the professor the answer sheets one at a time, a few others simply slinking their backpack and retiring for the day. Jisung stands up and greets everyone a happy weekend in his usual chirpy voice, which is responded by exhausted 'thank you's and 'good bye's.

Once all the students leave the room, Jisung shifts his eyes on you, and you feel a wave of arousal flowing through you. He walks over to your seat, pulling a chair nearby and dragging it in front of you before sitting on it.

"Care to explain the answers you've written on today's test?"

You smirk and pout right after, doe-eyes forming automatically before you get up and seat yourself on Jisung's lap. His breath gets stuck in his lungs as you wiggle on his rock-hard bulge, and he holds your hips in place in an attempt to take control.

“You see, daddy, you haven’t been paying much attention to me these days. So I decided to take matters in my own hands so that you’ll fill me up like you used to, right?”

You slowly push yourself lower and lower on Jisung’s crotch, grinding on his as you rotate your ass on his hardening cock. He inhales sharply before throwing his head back, trying to push you away from him.

“Clothes off, bend over. I’ve never fucked you on your own desk now, have I?”

The thought itself sends you over the edge, exciting you. You shimmy out of your uniform and push your books away from the table, bending over the wood. You hiss as the cold furniture comes in contact with your perked nipples, sending vibrations to your dripping core. You press your body against the desk, hoping that your body heat would warm the table.

Jisung drags the chair behind you and sits down such that your leaking hole is right in front of his face. He blows softly on your folds, smiling smugly as he runs two fingers up and down and collecting your wetness. You sigh at the overstimulation, gripping the table tighter than ever.

Jisung moves closer and licks a strip up from your clit to the base of your cunt. He does the same a few more times, licking your hole as you shiver in the sensation. He tongues at your clit, pushing the textured muscle over the bundle of nerves occasionally to break you. He brings his hand up in the air, only to drop it at the flesh of your ass and you yelp, the skin reddening at the contact. Jisung pushes two fingers straight inside you without wasting time, pumping them in and out of your hole.

You moan at the sudden wave of pain and pleasure, and you grind yourself lower on his digits to feel more of him. He chuckles darkly before adding a third finger, thrusting them in you. You groan at the stretch, scratching the table under you harshly. You feel his thumb on your clit, and you feel yourself losing your mind. He roughly draws patterns on the nerves, and the growing pit in your stomach falls apart. You cum hard, all over his fingers and slacks, wetness trickling down your legs.

You'd expect Jisung to remove his fingers after all you’ve done today, but he keeps pumping them, even after you’ve been completely milked out. You feel the pain bubbling in your heat as his fingers scrape over your walls, each touch edging you. You realize his intentions when you feel his tongue lapping at your walls again, fingers slowed down but not leaving you. He hums and the vibrations reach right to your core, pleasure steadily overtaking the pain.

Jisung looks down as your arousal drips down your thighs as they shake weakly, and he stands up, unbuckling his belt before unzipping his pants, groaning as his length strains against his boxers. He sets a steady tempo with his fingers in your heat, simultaneously pulling out his length and giving it a few pumps before lining it up with your entrance. You feel his tip prod at your folds and you push yourself against him as you feel him enter you.

His thick length stretches you out and you gasp as he enters you slowly. His grip on your waist is sure to leave marks for the next day, and his nails dig into your skins drawing small crescents. You whine as he sets an agonizingly slow pace, taking his own sweet time pleasuring himself. You grow impatient as every moment passes by, and push yourself back onto him. His grip hardens, on your hips as he pulls out completely.

“Baby hasn’t learned her lesson yet?”

He thrusts into you at an ungodly pace and the table beneath you creaks in despair. You scream as he bottoms out completely before pulling out, ramming his length back in immediately. Whines and moans fall out your lips as they resonate throughout the room and you feel your third orgasm rising in the pit of your stomach.

Jisung reaches his fingers to your clit once again, drawing unintelligible signs on it as you both chase your oncoming highs. His dick swells inside you and he unveils first, his thick seed coating your walls, your orgasm following a close second. You spasm and clench your walls tightly around him, grunting as your orgasm washes over you. You coat his length, which is still buried in you, and he pulls out of you, grabbing a few tissues from your bag to clean you up.

You two dress up, drinking water, and cleaning yourselves with tissues and wet wipes. Jisung’s eyes never leave you, and you hop over to his side before pecking him softly on the lips.

“Can we go on a date?”

He kisses you deeply, smiling continuously.

“Let’s go on a date, then.”

—

a/n: I had a wave of enthusiasm while writing this one and i’m glad it turned out nice :) hope you enjoy prof. Jisung being a hottie 🥵

[mostlydysfunction]

From The Stars, Part 7

Summary: The time has come for the birth. 

Warnings: Definitely some descriptive, gory birth/egg laying in this one. Not really for the faint of heart. 

Authors Note: So I was going to wait to do the birth until the next part but I really wanted to get it over with cause I knew it was going to be a big turning part in this story and I could totally make this like a 50 part story but I wanted to keep this one more on the shorter side, so y’all get the birth in this one. It’s gross. My mind went there. I have no excuses. 

MASTERLIST

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

“You must really like milk.” 

The statement draws Kira out of her daze. She had gone to the store to pick up some groceries. It seemed she couldn’t ever get enough to eat, and she had this awful need to constantly drink milk. So she had loaded her cart with as many gallons of milk as she could and she had been staring at the yogurt lost in thought when someone had commented on her strange pickings. 

“Oh, I’m...expecting company.” Kira mumbles, quickly heading out of that area and off towards the meat section. 

Along with a taste for milk she had also acquired a taste for meat, any kind of meat, raw or cooked. Milk and meat seemed to be the only things that tasted good to her and seemed to ease the constant ache of hunger that plagued her. She hadn’t wanted to leave the barn, but she knew she needed to stock up on something for a while. She had no idea how long the eggs would need to gestate. She had put on her biggest sweater to hide the swell of her stomach. It seemed they were getting bigger and bigger every day and she wasn’t sure how long she’d have before either they came out or they got too heavy to carry around. She couldn’t exactly ask anyone for help, nor could she send her alien out to do the shopping. Both would raise far too many questions. So she would stock up for the time being now before things took a turn. 

She felt strange. Like she should have been panicking. She was pregnant with an alien’s eggs. Walking around with alien babies in her body, shopping for groceries like it was just a normal day. Eventually she’d give birth to the eggs and have eight baby aliens running around. 

But she was calm. 

Freakishly calm. 

She grabs a few steaks, and enough ground beef to fill her freezer before heading towards the checkout. It’s early enough that there’s not many people in the store, thankfully not a lot of eyes to question her condition. It was a small town and most people knew at least who her dad was. The last thing she needed was for someone to recognize her and notice. How was she going to explain going from being not pregnant a month ago to looking like she was now five months pregnant? How would she explain the pregnancy? She couldn’t exactly tell the truth. People would think she’d lost it. 

Kira ignores the looks from the checker as she loads the gallons of milk and pounds of meat onto the counter. She pays before pushing her cart out to her car, loading it into the trunk. She’s glad to get out of the store and out of town. She felt anxious, like an itch at the back of her brain being away from her alien now. Even just being in the house while he was in the barn made her nervous. She knows part of it is the fact she could pop the eggs out at any moment, and he was her only hope for knowing what to do when that happens. But she can’t deny she had felt an intense connection with him now that she was carrying his clutch. Sometimes she thinks she can sense him communicating with her, more just feelings than actual formed words. 

Maybe she really was losing her mind. 

Kira loads up her fridge and freezer with milk and meat, popping open a gallon before sitting down on her couch. She was tired, her feet and ankles aching already from carrying around the heavy eggs. Her back constantly hurt and she couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep very much. It had only been a week, but she couldn’t wait for the eggs to finally be birthed, just to give her body a break. 

********

Kira wakes to a cramping sensation in her lower abdomen. It had been just over a month since she’d been impregnated, and she looked like she was eight months pregnant with twins now. The eggs were heavy, making moving only necessary when it was unavoidable. Like bathroom trips or trips to the kitchen. This morning, however, Kira instantly feels the need to move. There’s a sheen of sweat on her skin, her lower abdomen cramping and spasming. 

She pulls herself up, grabbing her phone before heading to the kitchen. She had taken up residence on the couch, unable to make it up or down the stairs anymore. She grabs the half empty milk from the fridge, drinking a couple sips before her stomach turns violently, making her puke it back up into the sink. 

She’s washing the puke from her hair when her phone rings, startling her. It’s an unknown number, making her hesitant to answer it, but she does anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“Kira?” A familiar voice asks.  

“Dad?” 

“Hey, uh, I just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing.” 

“I’m uh-I’m alright.” She says, holding her breath as another cramp shoots through her. 

“Are you sure? You don’t sound well.” 

“I just...been feeling a bit sick this morning.” 

“Do you need to go to a doctor? I can come over and take you. Bring you something.” 

“No, no, I’ll be alright.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t like the idea of you being alone while you’re sick.” 

She’s not sure where this caring attitude was coming from all of a sudden, but she’s not in the mood for potentially fake concern. “No, I think it’s just a bug. I don’t want to risk getting you sick too.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Alright. If you’re sure.” 

“I am.” Kira takes a breath, relaxing as the cramping passes. “Maybe when I’m feeling better, we can meet up for coffee or something.” 

“Yeah. Sure. That sounds good.” 

“Okay. I’ll call you, I guess.” 

“Yeah.” 

Kira doesn’t say goodbye, hanging up the phone. She doesn’t know what prompted her father to suddenly start caring for her, or what he had even really called about. All she knows is she doesn’t want him showing up and witnessing what she knows is about to happen.

She stumbles to the door as a bigger cramp tears through her, aching up her spine and down along her legs. She feels the urge to go to the bathroom and vomit all at the same time, but her mind is driving her to get to one place. 

The barn. 

She pushes through the pain, taking twice as long to drag herself out to the barn, the door already open when she gets there. She slams it closed, locking it. She feels strangely territorial suddenly, not wanting anyone to witness what was going to happen. She hears the familiar hiss, her alien coming out of the darkness and close to her. She hisses at it in return, making it stop where it is. So many feelings and thoughts are rushing through her head, overwhelming her. But most of all, the pain throbbing deep in her pelvis is driving her mad. 

She yanks her pants off, glad she had been forced into sweatpants and leggings with the size her stomach had grown to. Something wet is dripping from her, sliding down her legs and dripping onto the floor. Something inside of her shifts, fluid gushing out onto the floor. The alien lets out a roaring hiss, pain rippling through Kira, forcing her to nearly double over. 

She starts to feel the need to push, kneeling down on the gooey floor. She’s sweaty and panting, something large starting to slide out of her body. She feels like she’s being torn open, the first egg starting to work its way out of her. She bears down on it, pushing hard with every wave of pain. More fluid gushes out of her, splattering onto the floor under her. She pushes herself up, squatting as best she can as she screams in pain, something sliding out of her canal with a force of fluid, a solid thunk sounding on the floor. 

Kira loses her balance, falling back on her bottom, the pain subsiding for a moment. Sitting on the floor, covered in bloody goo, was a black oblong-shaped egg. It had to be the size of an ostrich egg, if not bigger. Her alien steps closer, tilting its head as it stares down at the egg. It lets out a hiss, getting its face close to the egg. Kira doesn’t get to watch it, pain rippling through her again. 

She squats again, more fluid leaving her, the second egg coming out faster from her already stretched canal. Kira falls to her knees, her hand reaching out and touching the warm, gooey, blood covered egg under her. It’s strange in texture, not like a bird egg. Rougher, the outer shell thicker. It’s heavy in her hands, feeling more like a medicine ball than an egg as she moves it over to the first one. Sweat is dripping in her eyes now, her muscles cramping as the third, fourth and fifth eggs join the first two in the world. Each one looks identical, each one sapping more and more of her strength. 

Her legs are shaking, barely able to hold her up as she pushes out the sixth egg, even her cries of pain becoming more pitiful whimpers. There’s a pool under her feet on the floor, but she can’t see down far enough to see what it is. Her alien nudges her gently with its head, hissing quietly at her. She grips onto his arm, holding him tightly as she pushes the seventh egg out. 

Her legs do give out, sending her into a heap on the floor. Her muscles are contracting painfully, something leaking out of her continuously. Her vision is swimming, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She feels weak, sick to her stomach. There was one egg left. One last one to push out. 

She rolls onto her back, pulling her legs up before pushing on her stomach, trying to guide the last egg out. She’s exhausted, tired of pushing. The smell in the barn is coppery from the blood, her blood. Her back arches, pushing her up, almost sitting as she forces the last egg from her body, just barely having time to wrap her hands around it before she falls back to the ground, unable to lift herself back up again. 

The last egg is smaller than the others had been, its color lighter. She wraps her arms around it, holding it against her chest. Blood and fluid soaks into her shirt but she doesn’t care, holding onto her last egg as her vision goes dark, her body giving out finally.

Part 8

[angstyaches]

heyy so you know that I honestly love everything you write buuuuut if you have time and motivation to work on a request I'd really love to see some sick elliot again but maybe just something really mundane? like just a fever and neausea and Felix being the cutest boyfriend? loaaads of fluff would be amazing since it's been so much angst lately haha - but please write whatever you want honestly

-em

Whoa, what’s this? Flick getting back to posting requested fics?! 

Thank you once again for requesting my boys, @justmeandmysickies; I’m sorry it took so long for me to get around to!

C\W: nausea, fever, general discomfort, slight anxiety, emeto, vampire emeto so there's blood mention

 _

It truly was a myth that vampires – even full-blooded ones – couldn’t stand daylight. In fact, Elliott loved daylight, and even chided Shayne for keeping the curtains shut in his room all day, much to his cousin’s annoyance.

Today, however, Elliott had created a shadowy cave for himself, a haven where he could curl up and bask in a certain level of sensory deprivation. At least, he would have been basking if he had been conscious. The last time he’d moved had been when Felix had gotten up to leave, and he’d blacked out again shortly after feeling a goodbye kiss on his cheek. The fever must not have been too bad at that point, if Felix didn’t wake him to check if he was okay, but it was most definitely soaring now.

His head was fuzzy now, as he peered out from under the sweat-soaked sheet. He shuddered and recognised the vaguely unpleasant sensation as oversleep, and he pawed clumsily for his chunky analogue watch, which was sitting on his bedside locker. It took his eyes a lot of blinking and a rub with the side of his hand before he could make out the time. Almost two in the afternoon, which was mildly horrifying for someone who usually rose shortly after dawn. 

How the hell had he managed to sleep for so long?

Elliott tried to sit up in bed, and his answer hit him like a punch to the gut. A little too much like a punch to the gut, in fact. His body must have knocked him out so he wouldn’t have to deal with the nausea.

He pressed one hand to his mouth and the other to the side of his head, the gold strap of his watch cool against his cheek. His stomach felt like it had leapt six inches closer to his throat, pinching in on itself and its heavy contents, which didn’t seem to have moved at all since he’d laid down last night.

As he sat there, his upper body swayed slightly. He let his eyes fall shut again, letting the waves of nausea that were thrashing about in his belly to settle down. As they did, the fuzziness in his head began to clear, too. 

Elliott gulped in tentative relief and slipped out from under the blanket. He’d gone to sleep in only his boxers, and as soon as the air in the room hit his skin, his muscles clenched. He was almost bent double as he shuffled to the wardrobe and pulled out the fluffy grey dressing gown and slippers that Felix had bought for him the previous Christmas; they had been intended as a joke present, but Elliott had used them more times than he could remember now.

The body spasms eased a little as he sank into the soft fabric and tied the sash. His shoulders were tight and achy and he kept his hands in the deep pockets as he made his way downstairs, which probably wasn’t the safest or wisest thing to do, considering how shaky and woozy he felt. Luckily, he made it to the front hallway without falling and breaking anything.

The house seemed quiet and settled, besides the low whooshing of the kettle being boiled in the kitchen. The further along the foyer he got, the better he could make out the sound of someone singing softly to themselves. The door was halfway-closed, and he bumped it the rest of the way open with his hip.

Relief tugged at his gut when he found Felix alone in the kitchen. No Shayne, no Ryan, no Nancy. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t confused.

“Where is everyone?”

Felix casually glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He was still in his fur-hooded jacket as he got a cup ready to make tea, meaning he’d probably only gotten home a few minutes ago. Maybe the sound of him closing the front door had been what had woken Elliott from his foggy sleep.

“I think Nancy dragged Ryan and Shayne shopping. Noteworthy feat, or what?” Felix turned around and fully observed his boyfriend’s hunched shoulders and heavy eyes, as well as the dressing gown. His gentle smirk melted into a frown. “Have you only just gotten out of bed, darling?”

Elliott nodded. He could feel the contrast between his internal body temperature, and the floor tiles separated from the soles of his feet only by the slippers. He shuddered at a sudden wave of vertigo, feeling his stomach roll inside him.

“How come?” Felix asked softly. “Are you feeling well?”

“No?” Elliott muttered, looking up and across the kitchen at his boyfriend again.

“What’s the matter?” Felix’s gaze didn’t waver as he stepped around the counter and pulled Elliott into his arms.

However, Felix hugging Elliott with no cooperation was about equal to him pressing his body up against a slab of concrete he couldn’t quite get his arms around; Elliott had to fish his hands from his pockets and lift his own arms, giving Felix access to his waist, so that he could embrace him properly.

“Darling?” Felix urged, his voice muffled from having his face pressed into the front of the dressing gown.

“I don’t – I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I just – I woke up this morning feeling exhausted,” Elliott droned. “But now I’m even more exhausted, and I feel like shit, and I can’t stop bloody shivering.”

Felix hugged him tighter at that. Elliott let himself melt into the hug, his insides feeling a little less pinched as he inhaled the scent from the top of Felix’s head. He could never pin down why, but Felix’s natural scent always made him feel like he was in a meadow surrounded by wildflowers.

He knew that if the nausea got any worse, the slight pressure of Felix’s torso against his would make him prickly and irritable. For now though, he genuinely felt steadier and safer in Felix’s arms. Even if his minty head was only as high as Elliott’s sternum.

“Gosh, you’re so warm,” Felix mumbled against his chest. It was unclear whether he was concerned about the fever, or just enjoying the cosy temperature.

“Well, soak it up while you can,” Elliott sighed. “Soon the fevers are gonna go away, and you’ll be stuck cuddling a walking corpse.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that.” Felix tried to pull back and get free, but Elliott kept his arms looped around him. “No, stop; you don’t get hugs when you talk about yourself like that.”

“Oh, no-no-no, I’ll be quiet,” Elliott smiled, though his voice came out with only a little of the playfulness he intended to put into it. “I’ll be good. Please hug me, boo. Everything hurts.”

“Everything?” Felix chuckled; his voice was tinted with sarcasm, because surely everything couldn’t be painful all at once, right?

Elliott swallowed and lowered his nose to the top of Felix’s head again. His eyes fell shut, but it did nothing for the tension in his neck that was starting to creep deeper into his skull. His body was being held, but it did nothing for the chill that had set up camp in every one of his bones. And the inevitable was finally happening, probably brought on faster by the tightness of the hug; his stomach was starting to churn, making his skin break out in goosebumps and his teeth grind together.

“Yes.” He sighed as softly as he could when all he wanted to do was groan. “Everything.”

Felix pulled back, just enough for him to look up at Elliott’s face. The shorter boy’s yellow eyes flicked back and forth between Elliott’s, his face paling as he tried to assess how worried he should be.

“It’s not like I’m not in agony or anything,” Elliott admitted, longing for that frown to disappear, “but everything – everything feels wrong. Uncomfortable. And it’s – it’s like I can’t get it right anymore, you know? I don’t drink enough blood – sick. I drink too much blood – sick.”

“I know, darling,” Felix sighed. “It’s unfair, I know.”

Elliott wriggled in reaction to the rich taste of blood mixed with bile burning in the back of his throat. He put his hands against Felix’s arms and directed him back slightly, so he had a little more room to breathe.

“Oh, I’m... sorry,” Felix murmured. He seemed to tighten in on himself, shoulders tensed within Elliott’s grip.

“No, no, I’m –” Elliott closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his mouth as a hot, sticky burp slipped up his throat. “I’m sorry, Fee, I – I feel sick to my stomach.”

“Oh.” Felix inched back a little more, despite still being held by his shoulders. “I wouldn’t have squeezed you so tightly, if I’d known –”

“I know.” Elliott swallowed against another wave of nausea. “It’s not your fault, gorgeous. I wanted you to squeeze me, remember?”

As he tilted his head, one side of Felix’s mouth twisted up into a sympathetic smile. “Do we need to move you closer to the sink?”

Although he wasn’t too certain himself, Elliott shook his head. The motion made the inside of his skull swirl, but the feeling in his stomach felt more like a low burning than an immediate wave ready to break for his mouth.

“Let’s go to the sofa, then, darling,” Felix suggested. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Elliott nodded obediently and let Felix take his hand, even though his palm had gathered a thick sheen of lukewarm sweat, both from the fever and from being wrapped in the less-than-breathable dressing gown fabric.

They usually wouldn’t get to sprawl across the sofa in the main lounge without Nancy yelling at them, so just being able to lower himself onto his back and stretch his legs across it felt like luxury. Elliott’s muscles sighed, as though they’d been upset with him all along, for moving from the bed in the first place.

Felix put a hand on the back of the sofa and leaned slightly over to kiss Elliott on the forehead. 

Felix’s eyes practically changed colour when he smiled, like there were a hundred tiny golden fireworks going off in each one. Elliott knew this wasn’t strictly true, or even possible - eyes didn’t change colour based on simple emotions but rather primal instincts - but he liked to imagine it anyway. Felix was small, and his little mint-coloured pigtails made him look so sweet, but Lord, he was majestic.

Elliott felt smaller than him now, felt shielded by his closeness.

Unfortunately, he also felt yesterday’s blood feast stirring around in his belly again, so he had to jab Felix away from him. His brain felt like it was burning with anger that he couldn’t seem to voice, just from imagining the sensation of being touched. It made him squirm on the sofa until he could assure himself that Felix knew to give him space, and wouldn’t try anything unless he asked.

And Lord, was it hard not to ask for another hug. It was nearly impossible to simply watch Felix slink back, grabbing a cushion from the reading chair so that he could set himself up on the floor next to the sofa.

“You want me to get you some ice or something? Try to bring down your fever a tad?”

Elliott rested a hand over his ribs, feeling the acid and blood bubbling in his belly, and shook his head. “Ryan says it’s better to let it run its course, unless I’m on the verge of passing out.”

“I just wish I could do something to help.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Felix rested his chin in his hands. His eyes seemed to have dulled slightly. “What are you thinking of right now, darling?”

Elliott kept his lips closed as he groaned, preparing to say something.

“No sugar coating,” Felix added.

“I was thinking how – how my body is more in control than I am,” Elliott heard himself say. “Like I - I don’t even get a say anymore.”

Felix nodded a little mechanically; he’d heard all of this before – albeit paraphrased, and in a not-so-calm manner. Elliott’s ears pricked and picked up a slight hitch in his boyfriend’s breathing as he sucked in a sob.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled. “I just don’t – I don’t know how I’m still going to be me when this is all finished.”

“You –” Felix nodded with a little more purpose this time, smiling despite the glistening in his eyes. He was trying hard to keep himself together, for Elliott’s sake. “You know I’ll still wanna keep you, right? No matter what happens?”

“I know, boo.”

“And who knows?” Felix added. “When you’re finished transforming, maybe you’ll be reborn as someone with fashion sense from the century you’re actually living in.”

All Elliott could do was grin to himself as a weak roll of laughter took hold of his achy shoulders and back. 

Well… maybe the roll went a little deeper than his shoulders, and maybe the burning was actually –

Felix yelped in surprise as Elliott suddenly sat upright, curling his legs up towards his chest. He retched dark brown, sticky vomit down the front of his dressing gown, accompanied by a wet cough.

“Oh, gosh!” Felix squealed, leaping to his feet. “I didn’t know you were about to - the white sofa – gosh, are you okay? Are you – did you get any on the cushions? Never mind, are you okay? Oh, no, Elli, they’re going to kill us –”

Elliott gulped around another peal of laughter, clapping one hand to his mouth and flapping the other in Felix’s direction. The sudden onslaught of nausea gripped tightly at his stomach and throat, but Felix being Felix was enough to distract him from the pain.

“Bucket? Bucket, I should get you a bucket,” Felix gasped, trotting back towards the kitchen and almost tripping over the cushion he’d placed on the floor himself.

Elliott coughed as he sat forward, eyes watering from the nauseous burps that he couldn’t keep down anymore. The laughter had him trembling all over, had his abdominal muscles clenching around his already churning stomach. He extended a hand as soon as he saw Felix bounding back, grabbing the bucket from his hand and letting a string of thick liquid fall from his lips.

He belched deeply over the bucket before bringing up another wave of sick. When he felt his lips pull back, he was no longer sure if he was grinning or just grimacing at this point. His jaw felt as heavy as it did when he was unbearably bloodthirsty, which felt like an impossible similarity, seeing as his stomach was begging to empty itself rather than be filled.

He glanced up, sensing Felix hovering close-by, craning his neck and wringing his hands.

“S-sofa’s fine, Fee,” Elliott coughed out.

“That so? I see – alright.” Felix backed off a little, still fidgeting with his hands purely because he didn’t know what he should be doing. “Shall – shall I get you some clean pyjamas or something, darling? Why – Elli, why the heck are you laughing?”

“It’s n-nothing,” Elliott whispered weakly, the nausea attempting and failing to deflate him again. 

He glanced up at Felix’s soft, yellow eyes and swallowed hard despite the scratchy ache in his throat. There was an idea forming in his mind as he watched Felix fret about him, one that he realised might have been there for a while now. 

“I’d like...” Elliott’s voice was deep and scratchy from the vomiting he’d already done, and the vomiting that was still to come. “I’d like to keep you forever, if I can. Would that be okay?”

“Sure,” Felix replied. He smiled a little stiffly, clearly still bewildered at the level of giddiness that Elliott seemed to have reached. “That would – that would be nice, darling.”

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely

Yes, I’ve found my way into the Schitt’s Creek fandom - it’s a lovely, hopeful place to be.  And of course, having met these wonderful people, I need to throw some angst and h/c their way.  Please enjoy this, the first chapter of my whump!Patrick fic.  

Thanks as always to my beta @perryavenue for coming along with me to yet another fandom :)

David/Patrick, M, A03 (tags/warnings this chapter:  injury, hospitalization, loss of consciousness, blood (minor))

Chapter 1 

David is arranging a new shipment of lavender sage lip balms by the cash register – he’s not sure they will sell as well as the honey vanilla but they are definitely more interesting – when he hears the crash.  

He grumbles again at Patrick’s insistence on spending their Sunday morning at the store when they could have just as easily slept in another few hours, and ambles to the backroom to see what happened.  It’s the last calm thought he processes.

There are wires hanging from a ceiling light fixture, a step ladder tilted at an angle against the shelves, and Patrick, lying on the floor, oddly twitching.  David crashes to his knees, hands flying to Patrick’s head, as words flow out of his mouth in a panicked stream.  “Patrick – Patrick- are you okay?  Patrick-”

Patrick is still breathing, David can feel his breath on his cheek when he presses his face close, but he’s not responding.  David’s hands are fluttering up and down Patrick’s body, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong.  He tries to hold Patrick’s head steady as his husband’s muscles continue to spasm.  “Patrick, wake up.  Please, come on, please, Patrick.”

David can feel something warm and wet in Patrick’s hair, and he faintly realizes that Patrick is bleeding.  “Oh my god, Patrick, open your eyes, please.”  He fumbles his phone out of his pocket and calls emergency services, one hand resting on Patrick’s head, trembling so hard he can only hope the operator can understand what he’s saying.

Something in his brain finally connects the wires still swinging above him with Patrick unconscious on the floor and his breath leaves him in a horrified gasp.  “Send help now, right now.  I think my husband has been electrocuted.”

*****

It’s David’s first time riding in an ambulance while he is sober enough to remember it, and it’s terrifying.  He can’t wish for anything to dull his senses right now, though, because he needs to be here for Patrick.  He needs to get a grip, to stay strong, to not fall apart like he absolutely thinks he’s about to do, because Patrick needs him to keep it together.

The EMTs don’t offer much information, and the ride to the hospital in Elmdale is a nightmare of spiraling anxiety.  David feels like his chest is going to implode, the only thing keeping him from losing it completely is his hand on Patrick’s ankle, his arm stretched out to touch him in the only place he can reach.  

He wants to say something, to do something, but his voice seems to have abandoned him.  Finally, the questions in his head break through.  “Is he going to be okay?”

He barely hears the noncommittal answer.  Patrick has to be okay.  Their story can’t end here.  They haven’t even been married a year.  David has plans for their one-year wedding anniversary, only a few months away.  He’s going to take Patrick on a hike.  He’s going to do it right, make up for how David almost ruined Patrick’s proposal with his grumpy mood.  He’s not going to complain, and Patrick’s not going to get stabbed in the foot with a branch.  David is going to pack a picnic, with Patrick’s favorite foods this time, and serenade him at sunset - or maybe not quite sunset, because hiking back down in the dark seems like a bad idea, but he still has time to figure that out.  They still have time, they are supposed to have time.  Lots of time.

David’s come far enough to believe that he’s pretty good at making Patrick happy, and at letting himself be happy, but there’s so much more he wants to do.  

So many more smiles he needs to see on Patrick’s face.

There’s a rush of activity as they arrive at the hospital, and David has to let go of Patrick’s ankle, even the loss of that small connection paining him.  “I’ll be right here,” he says, although Patrick can’t hear him, and no one is listening.  “I’ll be here.”

*****

David is pacing in the waiting room.  He has already filled out the necessary forms, his handwriting barely legible since he’s still shaking all over, and now there is nothing to do but wait.  He knows he should probably call someone and let them know what’s going on, but Patrick’s parents are on an Alaskan cruise, and his own parents are in Fiji.  Stevie’s in New York for a conference, and Alexis is in L.A.  He’s got to handle this on his own.  

David used to be good at handling crises.  He prided himself on it.  Even when he was at the height of his drug happy party boy phase, he was always able to make a call to the right consulate and get Alexis sprung from whatever ridiculous situation she had wound up in.  He could act the part of a confident, competent savior, equipped with enough money and pull to get things done.  But things are different now.  Patrick has changed him, has cut right through all the walls he built to protect himself.  His defenses are gone.  And now this panicking, flailing, frightened man is all Patrick has left.

It seems like forever but finally a doctor comes out to talk with him.  Patrick is stable, but still unconscious.  Apparently he is more impaired than would be expected from a minor electric shock, because he hit his head when he fell.  Tests are being run.

David takes a step towards the doctor as his vision narrows, and someone is there next to him, a hand on his arm.  “Would you like to sit down?”  He doesn’t seem to have any choice, as he’s pushed into a chair, and a moment later handed a cup of water.

David takes a sip, then shakes his head, squeezing his eyes together and forcing himself to take a deep breath.  “When can I see him?  Can I see him, please?”

Not yet, they tell him.  Soon.  They’ll let him know.

*****

<i>Four hours earlier</i>

David wakes to the feel of his husband’s lips on his own, and he hums and wraps a hand around Patrick’s head and holds him close.  But instead of finding a sleep-warm, enticingly aroused and naked Patrick shuffling closer to him under the sheets, he opens his eyes to see Patrick sitting on the edge of the bed, already showered, a towel around his waist.

“Mmm, no, come back to bed.”

“Can’t do that.  We’re going to the store early, remember?”

David groans and flops over, pulling the duvet over his head.  “I don’t want to.”

“But we said we’d do it, and if we don’t, our lovely shelves will be empty on one of our best selling days of the week.”

David doesn’t really care to remember this fact, although it’s true.  Thursday afternoon he and Patrick had gotten into a disagreement about whether to keep sourcing peppermint foot cream from a particular vendor, and by the time David shut his mouth long enough to figure out why Patrick had developed a sudden aversion to Mr. Braden (he was unforgivably rude to their intern), some rather less than pleasant things had been said by David, too.  David suggested he make it up to Patrick by trading their regular Thursday evening at the store doing inventory and stocking shelves for an impromptu date night, and Patrick had agreed, on the condition that they come in early on Sunday instead.

“I’d like to suggest an amendment to our agreement,” David says, sitting up and slinging both arms around Patrick’s neck, loving the smile it brings to his husband’s face.  “Come back to bed for just a little while, and I’ll put all the labels on the body milk bottles myself.”  Patrick doesn’t like sticking labels on the bottles, he says the adhesive makes his fingertips itch.

“We’ll be late,” Patrick objects, but he’s already relaxing into David’s arms.  

David knows Patrick’s protest is mostly for show.  He runs his tongue up the side of Patrick’s neck, inhaling the smell of his warm, damp skin.  “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Patrick caves, attacking David’s mouth in a hungry kiss, as they both fall back onto the bed.  “You always do.”

*****

It seems like forever, but finally someone comes and tells him that he can see Patrick.  They lead David down hallways and around corners and finally into a room.  He goes past an empty bed and a partly pushed back curtain and then he’s there, staring helplessly at his husband, laid out unnaturally where he absolutely does not belong.

All the tropes are true, David thinks to himself.  Patrick looks small, diminished by the machines and the wires and the strangeness of the setting.  He’s lying flat on his back, which is just wrong – Patrick sleeps on his side, his knees always bent, body twisted around a pillow or the sheets or, when at all possible, David.  He says it’s because he doesn’t breathe well lying on his back, but David knows he likes the comfort of it, of being surrounded and held.  David likes it too.

They’re a good pair, right for each other in all the most important ways.  David swallows hard and moves closer to this fragile version of his beloved husband.  <i>Patrick has to be okay.</i>

“Here, sit down,” the nurse at his side says, sliding a chair closer to the bed.  “You can touch him.”

David sits down, stiffly, and hovers his hand near Patrick’s.

“You won’t hurt him.”  The nurse is looking at Patrick’s chart, and then back to David.  “He hit his head pretty hard, but there’s no sign of any other injuries.”

“Is he… is he in pain?”  David thought Patrick was still unconscious.  

“No, he shouldn’t be,” she says.  “But we’ll ask him when he wakes up, and go from there.”

David bites his lip, and forces the words out.  “He’s going to wake up, isn’t he?”

The nurse puts her hand on his arm, and David forces himself not to flinch.  “There’s nothing to be gained by not staying positive,” she says patronizingly, patting him twice and then, mercifully, leaving the room.  

David indulges in a moment of fury, imagining himself storming out of the room and demanding to speak to a doctor, throwing a Moira Rose-style tantrum until someone gives him better customer service, but then he sees Patrick’s hand twitch and all thoughts of histrionics disappear.

“Patrick?”  David takes his husband’s hand and squeezes it.  “Patrick, are you awake?”  He reaches over and runs a finger along Patrick’s cheek.  “I’m right here.  Open your eyes, baby, look at me.”  

Shaking, he leans close and presses a kiss to Patrick’s dry lips, and then another.  But there’s no response, no Sleeping Beauty moment of grateful awareness.  David takes in a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, and sits back up.  

“It’s okay,” he says, scooting the chair closer so that he can rest his elbows on the bed and hold Patrick’s free hand in both of his own.  “You don’t have to wake up yet.  You can sleep some more if you need to.  Rest all you want.  Heal that beautiful head.  I’ll be here when you wake up, Patrick.  I’ll be right here.”

*****

A doctor comes by a little while later, and tells David what he’s pretty much figured out on his own – they can’t say when Patrick will wake up.  So far, they don’t have any reason to believe he won’t, which is good, as far as it goes.  It’s not very precise, but Patrick suffered a head injury along with some level of electric shock, so they have to wait and see.  They’ll run some more tests tomorrow if there’s no change, but they are “cautiously optimistic,” whatever that means.

After the doctor leaves David makes the mistake of googling “traumatic head injury.”  He reads for a few minutes and then practically throws his phone across the room, watching as it slides across the linoleum floor and comes to a stop by the IV stand.  He’s historically not very good at looking on the bright side, but he refuses to entertain the possibility that Patrick is going to be permanently disabled from his attempt to make the backroom overhead light stop flickering.  

He leans down against the bed, resting his forehead against Patrick’s shoulder, his hand still wrapped in his own.  He can feel the panic rising in his chest again, and he fights it, not wanting to be any more useless to Patrick than he already is.

“Hey, I know I said you could rest, but maybe just wake up for a minute?” he says softly into Patrick’s ear.  “Just squeeze my hand, or blink your eyes.  Can you do that for me?”  He waits, not really expecting a reaction, but it doesn’t seem fair to ask for something and then not wait for an answer.  “No matter what happens, I’ll be here, okay?  Even if you’re hurt, even if…” David can’t really put into words what it might be like if Patrick doesn’t recover.  “No matter what happens, we’ll get through it together.  Just come back to me, okay?  I can’t… I won’t make it if you don’t.  I need you.”

“David.”

David looks up to see Alexis standing by the foot of Patrick’s bed, looking almost as pale as Patrick.  Then she moves closer and folds David into a tight hug, squeezing him until he can hardly breathe.  It’s the safest he’s felt since he heard the crash in the back room.

After a few minutes of Alexis’s pointy chin digging into his shoulder, David eases himself back.  “Maybe give arm day a rest,” he says softly, as she loosens her boa-constrictor hold around his waist.

“Everyone always says I’m stronger than I look,” Alexis says, tilting her head as she gazes at him.  “And you are too, David.”

He shrugs and glances away, his gaze inevitably going to Patrick, still just as quiet and unresponsive as he was a moment ago, and then back to his sister.  “How are you here?”  he asks, not wanting to dwell on the topic of his questionable ability to handle this particular situation.  “I thought you were in L.A.”

“That was last week.”  Alexis drops her bag to the floor, then drags a chair around from the other side of the curtain and positions it next to David’s.  “I was in Toronto, working with a new client, when Jocelyn called me.”

David blinks.  “Jocelyn?”

“Yes, David, Jocelyn called me, when you didn’t answer your phone – and so did Twyla, Roland, Ronnie, and everyone else.”  She waves her hand, apparently to indicate the universe of people blowing up her phone.

“But… why?”

“David, did you really think that an ambulance could show up in the middle of town and whisk you and Patrick away without anyone noticing?”  Alexis boops his nose and looks from Patrick back to David.  “They’re worried about you.  Half of the town is in the waiting room right now.”

“Wait, what?”

Alexis lets a smile tug at the side of her mouth.  “Kidding, no they’re not.  But they’ll come, if we need them.  Twyla did drop off some food, it’s in my bag.  Muffins, or something, she said you didn’t even come get one this morning.  And sandwiches.”  Alexis reaches down and pulls out a bag.

“I’m not hungry,” David says.

“Yeah, because you and skipping meals is a good idea.”

“I’ve had other things to worry about,” David says, his voice cracking.

“I know, David,” Alexis says softly.  “But you have to take care of yourself too.  And then we can take care of Patrick.”

It’s what breaks him, finally, that “we,” and David loses it, sobbing in Alexis’s arms at the side of his husband’s hospital bed.

[avengerscompound]

Catch and Release - 10

Catch and Release: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  2063

Rating:  E

Square filled:  @star-spangled-bingo​ - A thoughtful gift

Warnings:  Smut (Bi MMF threesome, very light d/s, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: When you overexert yourself on a mission with Steve and Bucky, the boys admit to having fantasies that involve you.  Fantasies that you share.  But with one Super Soldier needs intimacy and the other is still dealing with being touch starved, exploring those desires without anyone catching feelings is a little tricky.

Chapter 10: Domestication

You showed up to Steve and Bucky's apartment with a bag full of Thai food and a small gift shoved in your pocket.  You'd been thinking about Bucky’s predicament and you'd come up with an idea.  You weren't totally sure it would work but you figured it was worth a try.  Your main concern was how long it might take for it to work.

This thing the three of you had - it was fun.  There was no denying that.  It was had also been going on for a while.  That would be fine if Bucky and Steve were the casual sex, sleep with your friends' type, but Natasha was right.  They weren't.

You’d all been very careful about where the lines were.  Work was work.  When you were at work, Steve was your boss and you did what you were told and he never made any unreasonable requests of you.  You'd made sure you were nurturing the friendship.  Especially being sure to hang out with other people too.

Still, that line between friends and more than friends was getting very blurry.  You had started to wonder how many more times you could do this before you all lost sight of it.  As it was you had nearly turned down a date simply because you didn’t want to be dating and sleeping with Bucky and Steve, and Bucky and Steve were currently a sure thing.  Or maybe they were just safe.  There was definitely a large safety component.  They were your friends.  You liked being with them.  You knew they would do their best to never hurt you.  Plus they were pretty close to being a sure thing.

“So I had an idea to help with the whole bondage thing,” you said as you dipped an egg roll in sweet and sour sauce.

Bucky looked up at you expectantly while Steve choked on a mouthful of mu shoo.  “The what?”  He said.

“You know,” Bucky said, sheepishly.  “You told me how that’s something that turned you on to think of.  But I said…”

“Bucky I - I…”  Steve stammered, cutting Bucky off.  “We don’t need to do this.  I was just talking and … you’re enough.  I wouldn’t want to do anything that hurt you.”

As Steve spoke a deep blush spread through his skin, until his cheeks and down the back of his neck were flushed a dark pink.

“Steve, I want you to get everything you want,” Bucky argued.

“You are everything I want,” Steve frowned.

Bucky leaned in and kissed him deeply, cupping the blond’s jaw with his metal hand.

“Gag,” you teased.  “I shouldn’t have to witness that.”

They pulled back laughing softly.  “Gonna have to suck it up.”  Bucky teased, reaching over and poking you.  “So what’s your idea?”

You pulled the ribbons out of your pockets and put them on the table.  “It might be stupid.  But I thought if we tried first building up to it.  You know how I told you to do the praise stuff.  I can do that too.  Be a little bossy.  Maybe a little rough.  Whatever Steve’s into.  But just the bare edges of it and increase it a little each time.  But also, while we’re trying that if we wrapped these ribbons around his arms.  In fact, if you do that every time you’re together, maybe you’d start seeing them as sexy.  So when I use them to actually tie him up, you’d like seeing them.  And even if it is slightly uncomfortable for you, it’s still only ribbon, you know Steve can break out of it if he wanted to.”

“Easily,” Steve agreed.

Bucky nodded and looked at Steve.  “You want to try that?”

Steve smiled softly and reached over, giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze.  “I hope you’re aware of how much I love you,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.  Don’t know why, but I know you do.”  He said.  “I love you too.”

Steve leaned in and kissed him, softly and deeply.  His hand ran up Bucky’s arm and gripped the back of his neck gently.

“Guys!  I’m trying to eat.” You teased.

Bucky pulled back from Steve and started tickling you as he peppered kisses on your cheek.  “It’s your fault.”

“Stop it!”  You squealed and tried to push him away.

He pulled you into a tight hug.  “I knew asking you was a good idea.”

“You excited?”  You asked playfully.

“Mm, I’ll show you how much if you like?”  He purred.

You shoved him away laughing.  “Eat your moo shu.”  You said and grabbed a dumpling.  “Expect tracker and sex therapist.  Who would have thought?”

“You going to start charging us?”  Steve asked.

You pretended to think about it for a moment.  “Mmm… Don’t think you could afford me.”

“I dunno,” Bucky teased.  “I have some spare change in my pocket.”

“Bucky!”  You yelped and whacked him as he laughed loudly.

The three of you finished eating and tidied up before heading into the bedroom.  Steve took off his shirt and sat on the bed.  You moved to him and began to wind the red ribbon from his wrists and up his forearms to his elbows.

“Did Bucky tell you what I wanted to do today?”  You asked, a slight growl to your voice.

Steve looked up at you and shook his head.

“You’re going to be a really good boy, and fuck me while Bucky fucks you.”  You said.  “Aren’t you?”

He swallowed as he looked up at you.  “Yes, ma’am.”

You finished tying of the ribbon and ran your hands up his arms, following the rises and falls of his thick muscles, and then down his broad muscular chest.  “Such a good boy.  Isn’t he, Buck?”

“He sure is.”  Bucky agreed, caressing Steve’s jaw and flicking his fingers through his hair.

“Thank you,” Steve said.  His voice came out slightly choked and a little needy.   Though there was a slight hesitation like he wasn’t sure how he felt about things either.

“Steve,” you said gently.  “If you ever feel uncomfortable, just say so.  This is for you.”

He nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.  I’ll be good.”

You smiled and stood back.  “Strip.”

While Steve hastily took off his clothes you and Bucky removed each other’s.  He pulled you close and kissed you deeply as he unhooked your bra and slid it down your arms.  When Steve was completely naked, he sat down and watched the two of you take your time with each other.  When you were both naked, you looked over at Steve.

He was rock hard, but sitting patiently on the edge of the bed.  “Looks like Steve likes to watch.”  You said.

“You want to watch us, Steve?”  Bucky asked.

“Please,” Steve groaned.

Bucky turned you and pushed you back on the sofa chair.  He kneeled in front of you and pushed your legs apart.  The heat from his flesh hand stood in contrast to the cool of the metal one.  He lapped wide up your cunt, sending a faint shiver up your spine.  You kept your eyes locked on Steve’s.  The usual pale blue was blown out with lust and his tongue flicked out and ran over his plump lips.

Bucky focused his tongue on your clit, swirling it in tight circles, pressing hard and then backing off so it was barely a feather touch.  You groaned and started to rut your hips against his face.  Bucky started to suck on your pussy like a hungry man.  His tongue swirled around and he pulled your clit into his mouth.  Your legs trembled and your toes curled as an electric charge seemed to pass through you to your extremities.  He held your legs open and braced his forearm against your thigh.  His fingers pushed inside of you and he started to fuck you hard and fast with them as he sucked on your clit.

You cried out, still keeping your eyes locked onto Steve.  Steve’s hands tightened on the side of the bed.  His knuckles turned white and the fabric gave under his grip as he punctured holes in the mattress.  Your cunt began to spasm around Bucky’s fingers and your muscles clenched as you got closer to your release.

Bucky doubled down, sucking hard at your clit as his fingers hit your g-spot over and over.  With a sudden cry, you broke eye contact with Steve, throwing your head back and coming on Bucky’s face. 

Bucky groaned and ran his tongue up your cunt one last time before pulling his fingers away and getting up.  He offered you his hand and you took it and let him help you to your feet.

“Did you break our mattress, Steve?”  Bucky asked as the two of you approached him.

“Sorry,” he said, releasing his grip. “Sorry, Buck.”

Bucky tensed a little and you took his hand and squeezed it as you caressed Steve’s jaw.  “You can make it up to him now.  Can’t you?”

Steve nodded.  “Yes.  I want to make you feel good.”

You went over to the bedside table and got a condom and the lube as Bucky straddled Steve’s lap and the two of them began to kiss.  Steve kept his hands at his sides, but Bucky’s ran up Steve’s back and into the blond’s hair.  When you returned to them, Bucky pulled back slowly, tugging on Steve’s bottom lip with his teeth.  He climbed off Steve’s lap and you switched places with him.

“You’re so hard, Steve,” you purred as you stroked his cock.  “You ready for us?”

“Yes,” he groaned.  “I want it.”

You pushed him back on the mattress and rolled the condom on. You rocked against his cock, grinding down against it.  He groaned and moved his hands on your hips, flexing his fingers on your skin.

“I don’t think so, Steve.”  You said, guiding his hands up over his head.

There was a stretch at your entrance as you lowered yourself down on his cock, but you didn’t allow yourself time to adjust before you began to move.

Up and down, up and down, you bounced on his cock.  Steve strained against you, flexing his muscles in his arms so the ribbon dug into his flesh.  Yet, despite the fact he could easily pull away from you, he kept his hands up and allowed you to hold him there.  Bucky moved behind you pushing you down against Steve’s firm chest.  He lifted Steve’s legs up so they pushed up on either side of you and squeezed the lube on Steve’s ass.

With a hard snap of his hips, Bucky thrust into Steve pushing up against you.

“Fuck!”  Steve gasped, bucking up into you.

“Language in front of the lady, Steve.” Bucky teased.

Steve groaned and thrust up into you.  “She’s no lady.”

You chuckled and moved with them. Your hands slid down Steve’s arms and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.  You could feel how much this was affecting Steve.  His muscles all clenched and spasmed under you and his legs trembled at your sides.  His reactions heightened your own.  You moved between them as Bucky fucked Steve behind you, his body slapping against yours.

“Fuck.  Oh god, I’m close,” you moaned.

“Right there with you,” Steve grunted through gritted teeth.

Bucky picked up his pace, thrusting hard into you.  You slid your hand between you and Steve, fingering your clit.  Your body shuddered and jerked between them as your orgasm crashed over you.  As your walls clenched, milking Steve, his hips snapped up as he released.

“Fuck…” he groaned and buried his face in your neck.

Behind you, Bucky kept thrusting into Steve.  There was smooth metal and rough skin against you as his hands slid down your spine.  Steve groaned and shuddered under you.  “Oh god, Buck,” he mewled.

“Just … a… little… more…” Bucky panted and thrust hard and deep into Steve’s ass as he came.

The three of you just stayed like that for a moment.  Connected and spent.  Bucky pulled out first and flopped down onto the bed beside you both as you slithered off from on top of Steve.

Steve rolled over and grinned.  “That was good.  What about you?  You okay?”  He babbled excitedly, running high on the endorphin rush.

Bucky smiled softly and took Steve’s hand.  “Yeah.  I liked it too.”

You smiled to yourself between them, feeling pretty damn smug about it.

// NEXT

[bomberqueen17]

back

Argh. So I made it through chicken processing all right. Every time, it’s a gruelling, physically-demanding day-- starts the day before when I have to clean the slaughterhouse, goes all day and packaging gets really repetitive and exhausting and heavy-lifting-y, and there’s just no way to reduce any of it.

Every time, I tell myself I’ve got to make a practice of working out during the weeks I’m back in Buffalo, just to keep my body in some kind of shape so this isn’t quite so brutal. Every time so far this year, i’ve gotten sucked into working extra, and at the camera store job, I’m often wedged into closets and corners and it’s just prohibitively difficult to get up from my desk and walk around at all, let alone go do intensive activity periodically so that my body remembers it’s not dying. I console myself that my lack of working out doesn’t actually matter that much because the people who are on the farm full-time and do intense physical labor all the time are also exhausted after chicken day and it’s not even that I’m out of shape, it’s just that it is gruelling and there’s no avoiding that.

However. I would really like to figure out a way to be in slightly better shape, that’s not unreasonable. Just in general it’d be nice to get into the habit of taking, like, yoga breaks at work, I just have to make myself do it and like, if they’re going to have me working in a closet I think I can be excused for needing to go into the main room to stretch once an hour, you know?

behind the cut for length, my woeful tale of pain and agony and menstrual cramps:

Anyway. The day after slaughter day, I’m now in the ritual of going out in the morning and doing slightly more cleaning of the slaughterhouse because there’s always leftover slightly-gross residue that seemed clean in my exhaustion and in the cold light of the next morning is super nasty, and then I set up that room to use to wash eggs. There’s some moderate heavy lifting involved in that as well, but nobody’s around to judge so I work pretty slowly.

I was doing that yesterday, and I’d moved most of the heavy things and was standing in the middle of the room contemplating my next step (I knew what my next step was, I just wanted to contemplate it a moment; nobody’s watching and I can work slow because it doesn’t matter), when suddenly my back was like HEY LET’S GO SIT DOWN ON A SOFT SURFACE AND EAT BONBONS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.

There wasn’t a soft surface within a hundred yards of me, so I just stood there, in intense pain, and after a moment (it might have been a muscle spasm), I shuffled over and leaned against the wall and explained to my back that I did not have any bonbons, there was no soft surface, and I had four baskets of eggs to wash and pack.

It did not care for this explanation, but I went on and did it anyway. I came inside when I was finished, and informed my sister that I could pack some eggs but I wasn’t going to be able to move the loaded boxes (we put the cartons of a dozen eggs each into a box that holds a dozen boxes, and while that’s not super heavy it is heavier than I was going to be able to shift much).

I sat briefly and talked to my dad, who’d come by to help fix the barn (oh I did not tell the story of BIL’s near-death, and even-nearer-barn, experience in The Big Tractor; suffice to say, he’s fine, the tractor’s a piece fo junk as ever it was, and the barn, well, he and my dad had to put the corner back on but it seems okay, so all’s well), and then I worried I wouldn’t be able to get up. I’d sat in the straight-backed kitchen table chair, not the lower soft one in that room, but I still had trouble getting up.

I spent the rest of the day in increasing pain, despite ibuprofen, and last night was not a great time, trying to sleep on this very firm mattress that feels I really ought to be a different shape than I am. Now the back pain has combined itself with sudden menstrual cramps and I am just a ball of misery.

But, I think nothing is misaligned-- it’s all muscle-feeling pain, if you catch my drift, not torn muscle or sprained anythings (i’m now old enough to have experienced all kinds of things so I can tell that, lol sigh), and if i dope myself up for the cramps-- you know, there’s a hot water bottle over on the sewing desk, so today may be a hot water bottle day.

Tonight there’s supposed to be a brutally hard frost, so everyone will be busy trying to clean up water lines and harvest things that will become mush or unusable, so I’ve volunteered to supervise the homeschooling. The girls are old enough that if I beg them to go easy on me because my back hurts, they probably will, and if not, I will survive. (Mostly I don’t have to do much physically anyway.) I’m just going to move slowly today.

Oh-- I also did get some more flax processed with @unicornduke, which was very cool, and maybe I’ll post pictures at some point. :)

[karaliswrites]

Cold

I wrote this really late so it’s probably terrible and full of mistakes. Contains spoilers

~~~~

Lio has been lying to Galo for months now. Well, it’s not necessarily lying, he's just omitting the truth. The truth that each and every night he shivers himself to sleep, despite the heavy blanket Galo gave him. He sleeps on the couch and it leaves his back sore in the morning, but he doesn’t mind. Galo offered him the empty space in his own bed many times when he first moved in, but after countless rejections, he just gave up trying.

Lio’s tried to sneak some clothes from the laundry to provide him extra warmth, but one time this little secret was revealed. He had slept through the alarm he set to wake up before Galo to change out of the blue-haired man’s clothes, and he was caught practically swimming in an old t-shirt of his. His face had turned crimson and he had quickly pulled off the shirt and chucked it at the smiling man’s head. After that incident, Lio was hesitant to steal any more of Galo’s clothes.

So every night he struggles to fall asleep and to stay asleep. Some nights he doesn’t sleep at all, and he knows Galo can tell by the way he sends him worried glances every few minutes at work. But he doesn’t tell Galo about his problem. He’s the ex-leader of the Mad Burnish and he’s been through far worse than a little chill. Even though this is much more than just a little chill. With the Promare gone, the entire world is like ice to him. But he can handle it on his own.

It’s October and Lio’s wrapped tightly in two blankets, an extra for the change in the weather. But still he finds himself trembling. He tries to stop his teeth from chattering, but to no avail. He snuggles deeper into the little warmth he gets from the blankets, and he can’t help thinking how pathetic he is. A few months ago he was leading the Mad Burnish and trying to stop Kray’s plans, and now he’s shivering despite being wrapped in two blankets, his eyes red and burning from lack of sleep. He hasn’t slept more than two hours straight in days. He’s been waking up with a frozen nose and icy skin.

Maybe that’s what has him standing and rubbing his arms as he walks towards Galo’s room. The door is slightly ajar and he nudges it open, peeking inside to see his friend soundly asleep. He’s not even wearing a shirt. Lio doesn’t understand how he isn’t a literal block of ice, but he figures Galo isn’t used to the warmth of the Promare like he is. He shivers and a jolt of cold shoots down his spine. He bites his lip as he moves towards the bed, his stomach churning. He stands there a moment, looking at Galo’s peaceful face. Strands of his hair fall across his forehead and Lio gets an overwhelming urge to sweep them away, but he stops his hand midway. He pulls it back to wrap around himself and tries to steady his shaking as much as possible. “G-Galo . . . ,” he whispers, but the man doesn’t stir. He swallows.

“Galo,” he says louder and he shifts. “G-Galo, wake u-up.”

His eyes squeeze tightly shut before they open, revealing that stunning teal. “Lio?” he asks groggily, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “What is it?”

He’s visibly more awake as he says this, sitting up as his gaze becomes clearer and his speech less slurred. “Is something wrong?”

Lio holds himself as still as he can possibly muster, but he still feels his muscles spasming. “Do you have an e-extra blanket?” he says softly, afraid if he speaks any louder he’ll lose control of his voice. Galo’s brow furrows slightly. “You’re still cold with two?”

His tone isn’t bitter. It’s more concerned. Lio shifts, feeling himself shudder as the movement breaks his resolve. “A l-little,” he mutters, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

“Well, c’mere.”

Lio looks at him like he’s crazy as he extends his arms towards the blond. He feels his cheeks start to warm. It’s a pleasant sensation. “Wh-what do you mean?” he finds himself stuttering and Galo just smiles wider.

“I mean c’mere.”

Lio takes a shaky step forward, expecting Galo to scoot back, but he doesn’t. When Lio’s close enough, Galo grabs him around the middle and pulls him on top of him. Lio gasps at the sudden rush of cold air that whizzes past him, and when he comes to a halt on Galo’s chest, he hits his shoulder softly. “Galo!”

“You’re like ice,” he remarks and Lio huffs.

“How exactly is this helping?” he asks, trying to hide his slowly reddening cheeks behind his hair. But Galo’s hold on him is firm and he can’t do much to hide his face. “I’m keeping you warm with my burning soul!” he says cheerfully and Lio groans.

“Right.”

“Hey, it’s helping, isn’t it?”

He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that his fingers are pressed against Galo’s exposed chest and he’s definitely blushing now. Galo is practically radiating with heat, curse him, and Lio feels himself shiver as his warmth thaws his chilled bones. He lets out a sigh and melts into Galo’s arms, laying his head on the firefighter’s chest. “You are pretty warm . . . ,” he admits. He can’t see him, but he knows Galo’s smiling. “I told you! It’s my burning soul!”

Lio makes a pathetic sound as he snuggles further into Galo’s warmth and he thinks he hears the blue-haired man’s breath hitch. He lies there for a moment, basking in his body heat, until his human heater speaks up. “Were you this cold last night too?”

Lio doesn’t respond, his fingers sliding over Galos’ chest and shoulders absentmindedly. “Lio.”

“I . . . I’ve been cold this entire time . . . ,” he finally admits. “All the m-months I’ve been here. I’m not used to life without the Promare to keep me warm . . . .”

Galo is silent for a long moment. “Is that why you look so tired at work?”

Even though Galo is the biggest idiot on the face of the earth, he’s not really that dumb. He’s actually a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for. “Yeah . . . those nights were really bad. Sometimes I couldn’t get any sleep at all.”

“What?” Galo exclaims, grabbing his shoulders and Lio raises his head. His heart stutters at the expression on his face, full of concern laced with what looks a little like heartbreak. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve let you come in here with me if I knew you were suffering through that.”

He suddenly feels very ashamed of not telling Galo and his stomach sinks a little. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, his eyes fixed on Galo’s collarbone. “I didn’t want to be a bother . . . .”

“Lio,” he says and the blond can’t help looking back into those beautiful teal eyes of his. “You aren’t a bother. I opened my apartment to you. It’s yours too. And I’m here for you, okay? Always. I want to help you if you need something. I’d give you the last clean spoon so you could eat your ice cream, man.”

Lio can’t help the giggle that escapes him at that. “What?! I would!” Galo cries, but he’s smiling too. He draws a design on his bicep. Something similar to a heart. “That’s very sweet of you,” he replies, half-jokingly. “You know I can’t live without my ice cream. Especially when I constantly feel like I’m in subzero temperatures.”

“Hey, it’s always best to eat ice cream when it’s cold outside.”

Lio gives him a look. “What?”

“You idiot,” he says, looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “You don’t eat ice cream when it’s cold.”

“Why not?” Galo asks genuinely. Lio can’t believe they’re having this discussion right now. “Because it’s cold.”

“So?”

“What do you mean so?”

“I think it’s good!”

Lio shakes his head. “There is seriously something wrong with you.”

Galo pouts and Lio wishes he could kiss it from his lips. He suddenly remembers a question he’s been meaning to ask for months. “Another thing that proves there’s something wrong with your brain,” he says, gently flicking Galo’s forehead. “If there even is one in there,” he mutters beneath his breath, to which Galo cries out indignantly. Lio fixes him with a smug gaze, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “Where did you learn to do CPR?”

“I . . . learned at Burning Rescue . . . .”

“Did they teach you to use tongue?” he asks teasingly, dragging a finger over Galo’s collarbone. His face turns bright red and Lio smirks, thinking he’s adorable. “U-Uh . . . ,” he stutters and Lio’s heart does so as well. “W-Well . . . it’s uh . . . .”

“It’s what?” Lio asks, leaning slightly closer to Galo’s face, feeling his heartbeat pounding against his chest where they touch. He quickly looks around before his gaze returns to lilac eyes. “I-It’s Burning Rescue procedure!”

Lio raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Y-Yeah!” he says quickly and Lio smirks.

“Do you always whimper when you do CPR too?”

“Y-Yes! It’s . . . good for . . . c-calming me down. R-Releasing a sound is good for expelling e-energy.”

“Oh, it had the opposite effect on me,” he purrs, stretching out a little on top of Galo. “I was quite excited hearing you make those sounds.”

Galo turns impossibly redder and Lio’s stomach is doing somersaults. “I wonder if I could make you make those sounds again . . . .”

“Yes,” Galo says suddenly and Lio thinks he hadn’t meant to. He glances away nervously and Lio has to try very hard to keep himself from saying ‘cute’ aloud. “Oh really? And what would I have to do to make that happen?” he asks mocking innocence and Galo opens his mouth before closing it again. His chest is rising and falling much more shallowly and Lio tilts his head slightly. “Looks like you’re having a bit of difficulty breathing there, Galo. Maybe I have to do CPR on you.”

Galo swallows thickly and Lio inches closer. “Maybe I’ll have to try the Burning Rescue technique while I’m at it,” he says, his lips brushing Galo’s as he speaks. Before the firefighter can respond, he leans the rest of the way forward, connecting their lips once more. Just like the rest of him, Galo’s lips feel like flames. He runs a hand over his burning skin to tangle in blue hair, gently slipping his tongue between Galo’s lips like he had done to Lio months before. He releases a sweet noise and Lio’s stomach somersaults at the sound, urging him to kiss him — sorry, do CPR on him — for the rest of time. Galo’s lips are soft and eager and welcoming and Lio feels like he’s drowning. Drowning in flames. His mind is blank and the entire world fades away as their tongues dance slowly in Galo’s mouth. Lio lets out a small moan, feeling himself starting to fade as exhaustion rudely interrupts his very important resuscitation.

He pulls away reluctantly, leaving both of them panting slightly. Galo gives him a crooked grin that has his heart skipping beats. “Wow . . . you’re really good at that . . . .”

“Well, I learned from the best,” he smiles, lightly pecking the tip of Galo’s nose. He lies down on his chest and lets out a sigh that takes all the tension in his back and shoulders with it. He melts into a puddle in Galo’s arms and presses a sleepy kiss to his collarbone. “We should get some sleep though.”

“We should. Sleep is good. Especially for my boyfriend.”

Lio’s entire body is set ablaze at that word and he lifts his head. “Boyfriend?”

Galo’s face falls. “I-If that’s okay. I . . . I really really like you and I-I thought —”

Lio silences him with a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he gives Galo a smile. “I really really like you too, dumbass.”

He can practically see the fear fade from his face and he smiles a little wider. “So it’s okay. It’s more than okay.”

He settles back into Galo’s arms and another sigh dances over his boyfriend’s skin. His boyfriend . . . .

He feels himself start to drift and he lets his eyelids fall heavily shut, thankful for the sweet relief from their exhausted burn. “Wow,” Galo’s voice pulls him from the beginnings of sleep. “Lio Fotia is my boyfriend.”

He giggles. “Yes,” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to Galo’s neck. “Now get some sleep, you idiot.”

“Okay,” he replies, wrapping his arms tighter around the blond. Lio hums and snuggles into Galo’s warmth, feeling himself start to fade. He’s lulled by the pattern of his breathing and the soft thud of his heartbeat, and soon he’s overcome with the wonderful embrace of sleep.