#They never saw us coming ‘til they hit the floor.

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Adventures of Tintin (2011) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Archibald Haddock & Tintin, Milou | Snowy & Tintin Characters: Tintin (Tintin), Archibald Haddock, Milou | Snowy, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Stabbing, Car Accidents, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Panic, Anger, Cold, Cold Weather, Unconsciousness, Darkness, Revenge, Attempted Murder, Rescue, Delirium, Pain, Agony, Fear, Worry, Paralysis, Blood Loss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, no.22, They never saw us coming ‘til they hit the floor., Glass Shard, Vehicular Accident, no.23, It’s gonna get me by the end of the night., Shadows - Freeform, Stalking, Father-Son Relationship Series: Part 12 of Tintin Whumptober 2023 Summary: "He felt it in the pit of his stomach and in the prickle on the back of his neck. A noise behind him got louder, another crunching sound of the road underneath tires, and faster, and he barely had time to leap out of the way as he spun around to see it, eyes wide with panic like a deer in the headlights.

He didn’t feel anything until the front bumper of the car slammed into his stomach, and he realised that the car had swerved to the point of going offroad. He narrowly avoided the fate of getting pinned to a tree, falling to the ground violently and his head hit the road beneath him. He’d only been able to let out a grunt of pain as the world spun back and forth in front of him, vaguely able to see the car lose control after hitting him at high speed, and crash into the aforementioned tree itself."

[hummingbird-of-light]

No. 22 “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.” (vehicular accident)

~

When McCoy opened his eyes, he groaned in pain. His whole body hurt and he could hardly move.

What had happened? Where was he?

As carefully as possible, the doctor moved his head and his eyes fell on a motionless figure lying not far from him.

A small figure. With a red uniform. And green skin.

"K-Keenser..."

Right. The Roylan and McCoy had flown a shuttle toward the planet to rescue the landing party. For some reason, the transporter wasn't working.

But the shuttle had crashed. McCoy had no idea why. All he knew was that both Keenser and he were badly injured.

The doctor was dizzy, so he couldn't rule out a concussion, and he was sure that some of his bones must have been broken.

And yet, he had to try to get to the Roylan somehow. He had to check his state of health.

McCoy groaned as he slowly turned onto his stomach and crawled across the floor to Keenser. Everything in his body ached and he was aware that he was not doing his own health any good.

"Keenser, hey..."

Carefully, McCoy touched the little engineer on the shoulder, hoping for some sign of life. And he got it.

Keenser stirred.

McCoy heaved a relieved sigh. He had already feared the worst.

"We... we've crashed. We have to... contact the ship."

McCoy found it difficult to speak, but he did his best to get word after word out.

Slowly, Keenser rolled on his side so that the two could make eye contact. In the eyes of the Roylan, McCoy saw the reflection of the same pain that he himself felt.

"Can we... somehow... get in contact with the ship?"

Contact via the regular communicators had already failed with the landing party. McCoy just had hope that Keenser knew another way to send a signal to the Enterprise with the destroyed shuttle.

Keenser looked around and finally he crawled to a console not too far away.

McCoy just watched fascinated as the engineer worked. It looked very complicated.

When the signal was sent, Keenser nodded to the doctor, then rested his head on the ground again, panting heavily.

It became quiet in the shuttle. Both men concentrated on blocking out their pain. Both tried to breathe calmly.

An eternity seemed to pass until the door to the shuttle opened and familiar people rushed into the shuttle.

McCoy recognized all of them. At the front was Jim, who immediately ran to his best friend's side with a worried look on his face. Behind him were Dr. Hudson and Ensign Abel from his medical team. The two were carrying valuable equipment. And then the members of the rescued landing party followed. Scotty, Chekov and Lt. Hendorff. The chief engineer immediately rushed to Keenser, knowing that Jim would take care of McCoy.

"Bones! Bones, are you okay?"

McCoy nodded slowly at his captain’s question, his eyes fixed on Keenser. Without him, he probably never would have managed to call for help. And he was incredibly grateful to Keenser.

"Everything's okay. Just… get me back to the ship, please."

That was all McCoy wanted at that moment. He just wanted to be taken care of by Hudson and the rest of his people. Nothing more, nothing less.

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 22

Rosinante x Reader

"You got the details?" Rosinante asked, lighting up a cigarette.

"We got an Italian don." You hand him the file when you stop at a red light.

Rosinante scanned through the information. "Big mob boss, always surrounded by family."

"This isn't going to be easy," you comment, driving when the lights turn green.

"That's why they hired us, darling," Rosinante reminded you with a sly smile, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray.

It's true. You and Rosinante were the best-hired hitmen for the company you worked for. Perhaps it was because you could shoot your target in a heartbeat or that no matter what the hit is, you'd still end their existence in cold blood. However, for this particular job, you two were hired because of your stealth and ability to handle the situation when your target is in a crowded area.

"It says here to be wary of his brother Bege. Guy's got an observant eye."

"He can't see what's not there." You smirk, holding up your hand. Slowly the upper half of your limb vanished before the naked eye.

"Hmph." Rosinante returned the smirk. "Might wanna keep both hands on the wheel."

If you didn't need to keep them on the road, your eyes would've rolled out of your head.

Driving through a few more lights, you parked your car two blocks away from your destination. You got out of the car, stepping onto the sidewalk in time to help Rosinante out of the vehicle, you found out the hard way what happens when you leave the blond man to do normal tasks. If he wasn't your partner in crime, you wouldn't have guessed he's a top-of-the-line hitman.

"M'lady." Rosinante brought your hand to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on the back as he light closed the door behind him.

You smile, your cold heart fluttering a warmth at his romantic gesture. When he freed your hand, you reached up to his tie, fixing it and adjusting his collar. His face hovered close to yours, eyes staring into the other.

"What am I going to do with you?" You hum, sliding your fingers down his tie.

"How 'bout I treat you to something special after this," Rosinante whispered, hot breath on your brushing your ear.

"I'd like that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosinante placed his hand on top of your head. "Calm."

You smile up at him, his power now activated on you, though you snap your fingers to double-check. No sounds come from you. Rosinante moves his hand down, cupping your cheek. You kiss him and activate your powers, becoming crystal clear. You pull away, about to leave when you hear Rosinante.

"Be careful out there."

Those words warms you. Looking back, you see your partner enter the building. That makes you refocus on the task at hand and you begin scaling the building.

The plan was for Rosinante to walk among the rest of the mob, dressed as one of them, identify which one is your target and pull him out just enough so you'd have a clear shot. Once the target is down, you hop down, activate your power on him then get out. Easy in, easy out.

The hitman entered the grand hall where the party, scouting out the floor as he lit up a cigarette. Rosinante is silently grateful for the shades covering his eyes, so long as he makes little head movements, no one can notice his eyes darting around the room. Out of the corner of his vision, he spots the window opening and closing on the upper half floor. He knows it's you.

The blond makes his way over to the drinks, keeping his eyes peeled when he spots the target laughing merrily with his brother Bege. Rosinante picked up a tray of wine glasses and strolled over to the duo, offering drinks to others casually to blend in. He turned his back to the pair when he was right next to them, bumped into someone on purpose and fell back with wine glasses spilling their contents behind him and onto the target and his brother.

"What the hell?!" The target exclaimed as the red wine soaked his clothes. Others backed away from the mess on the floor. He glared at Rosinante. "Hey buddy, you should watch your step."

"Forgive me, godfather." Rosinante bowed his head. "I'll clean it up I swear."

"Impossible, you can't remove wine stains from this." He gestures to his collar shirt.

"Want me to deal with him, brother?" Bege offered.

"Ehhh, just knock 'im real good, that'll oughtta teach him a lesson."

Bege nodded. Rosinante's eyes widened, this wasn't how- Bege knocked the blond out with the back of his gun. He smirked, hearing the loud bang of a gun.

Shit. Rosinante's power wore off. Your target hit the floor but now everyone knows it's because he got shot.

"GODFATHER!"

"The shot came from over there!"

"Get them! We'll make 'em pay!"

You dashed away from your spot. Since Rosinante always used his power on you, you never knew how loud your footsteps were.

"This way! I hear 'em."

Crap. It wasn't supposed to go this way. You need to get Rosinante.

"Bastard is around the corner."

"Rosi..." you breathe through your teeth. Heavy pants express your stress. You're being backed into a corner against the window. You need to slow your breaths and be quiet.

"We gotcha now!"

The mobster turned the corner and began firing. Gunshots pierced your flesh. The window behind you breaks, glass shards flying. Their bullets push you out and you fall to the ground.

Your clear clear fruit deactivating and its spirit leaving your husk.

Tags: @bookandyarndragon @roseoftrafalgar

[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 22 || "They never saw us coming, 'til they hit the floor."

Heaven's Burning (1997)

[oxideblack]

[iriel3000]

 Trust Is A Two Way Street

Whumptober Day 22: : “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

 Trust Is A Two Way Street

Summary: Pre-SHIELD. Hawkeye is taken captive by the Black Widow and the Red Room. The Widow's loyalty is tested when Barton is to be converted by another.

“You did good, Natalia.”

The red head acknowledged her handler, Ivan, and his two goons at the exits. In the middle of the room was the infamous Hawkeye, tied to a chair, arms bound behind his back, accenuating his broad chest. Natalia felt his sharp blue eyes follow her every move.

“I will enjoy watching Melina convert him.” Ivan studied the archer with interest.

"Melina?" Natalia was not able to control her outburst. “I am the one who brought him in.”

The older man smiled. It turned her stomach.

"And you will be rewarded."

She clenched her fists.

"The Hawk is mine."

“Now, now. What were you taught about possessions?”

No "reward" was worth more than she brought in. Her decision was becoming easier to make.

“Do you miss your nights with him? Your performances were very convincing." Ivan drew his finger along the swell of her cleavage.

Hawkeye jerked against his restraints, scraping the chair on the floor, cursing.

"He obviously misses you. Problem Mr. Barton?”

“Take your hands off of her and I'll let you keep those fucking sausages you call fingers."

Ivan laughed and snaked his arm around Natalias ribs, resting his hand just below her breast.

“You betray him and he still defends you. I see why you want him.” His hand moved a little higher.

"Мне жаль, мой ястреб." She whispered. I'm sorry, my Hawk

"Last chance, asshole."

"What are you going to do, Agent Barton?”

“Nothing. She will.”

tbc, please click link above

[serickswrites]

Hit the Floor

Warnings: fighting, physical violence, broken glass, blood, wounds

Caretaker hurried towards the sounds of fighting. They knew that Whumpee would find Whumper without fail. What they hadn't accounted for was that Whumpee would run off and leave them behind to find Whumper. They couldn't leave Whumpee alone with Whumper.

"Watch out!" Caretaker shouted as they rounded the corner to see Whumper racing towards Whumpee.

Before Whumpee could move or even react, Whumper barreled into them, wrapping arms around their waist and allowing the momentum to carry the two of them through the window behind Whumpee. The window broke with a crash and both Whumper and Whumpee disappeared from view on the other side, no doubt hitting the glass covered floor.

"No!" Caretaker shouted as they raced forward.

Broken glass was never good. Their mouth went dry as they saw Whumpee covered in blood and laying on the ground. Whumper got up on unsteady legs, blood trickling from a few cuts on their face. They looked down at Whumpee and smirked before turning on their heel and clumsily running away.

"Go," Whumpee's chest heaved, "after them." Their hand flopped on the ground and Caretaker realized they were trying to wave Caretaker away.

"No, Whumpee, I can't leave you, I--" and the words died in Caretaker's throat as they finally could see Whumpee.

Blood trickled from Whumpee's mouth as they swallowed and tried to breathe. A long shard of glass stuck out of Whumpee's chest. They had other cuts that bled, but the glass shard was the thing that had Caretaker's heart freezing in their chest.

Caretaker dropped to their knees beside Whumpee, not caring if they got cut up on the glass. They didn't care about anything other than helping Whumpee.

"Please," Whumpee gasped.

Caretaker carefully ripped strips from their own shirt as they spoke, "I can't leave you, Whumpee. You need help. I need to get you help."

Whumpee's breaths rattled in their chest, their eyes wide and pleading with Caretaker. Whumper could not get away. Not after everything.

"We can get Whumper later. Right now we need to focus on you." They began to carefully try to stabilize the shard. "Stay with me, Whumpee. Keep your eyes on me. Keep them open. Come on, Whumpee."

"Staying," Whumpee whispered.

Caretaker could see the monumental effort Whumpee was making to stay conscious. Caretaker had to keep Whumpee awake and alert because they weren't sure if Whumpee closed their eyes if Whumpee would ever wake up again. And they couldn't bear the thought of Whumpee not waking up again. "Please, stay, Whumpee."

[lithium223]

[mrmustachious]

They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor

Summary: He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. All of his dreams were gone just like that. And there was only one person to blame. Gordon Tracy.

Day(s): 3, 7, 8, 10, 11, 22, 23, Alt 2, Alt 3

Prompt(s): “Make it stop.”, Alleyway, “It’s all for nothing.”, Broken Phone, “No one will find you.”, “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”, “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”, Shadows, Stalking, “Who’s there?”, Aftermath of Failure, Brass Knuckles

He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

All of his dreams were gone just like that.

He had been so close. If he had only been a fraction of a second quicker he could have won. He could have been holding that gold medal in his hands. He could have been up there on the podium, the crowd cheering for him, his national anthem playing behind him, his country proud of him.

None of that had happened, at least not for him. He was a failure, and had to go home a disappointment. He wouldn’t be able to show his face again. His family, his friends, his whole country had watched him fail, had seen him be too slow, had seen him mess up on that last turn which had snatched him from not only gold but from any other medal.

He ground his teeth together as he thought back to his time in the pool. He had been in the third lane after he’d done well in the previous heats. He had promise to take first place, he just had to push past his competition and he would come out on top.

It had started well. He tried to not get too distracted by the other swimmers and concentrated on his own swimming, but he knew he was ahead.

But then, when he was reaching the end of the first length, he couldn’t help but catch sight in his peripheral of the swimmer two lanes over.

Gordon Tracy.

Read on AO3

[faofinn]

No. 22 "They never saw us coming, 'til they hit the floor."

@whumptober-archive

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | "Watch out!"

As the family got bigger and time got more precious, it had become tradition that they’d all spend a week camping together, to spend time as a big group, over the summer when the kids could all play together and entertain themselves, and their parents could relax and spend time with each other, when the school holidays were hectic as ever. 

It was a wonder they were able to do it, half the hospital’s staff on leave at the same time, but they managed it. Fao, Ely and their kids, Finn, Jess and Amelia, Tai, Hars and their trio, the dogs, and often the grandparents too. Steve particularly relished it, taking every opportunity to join them, spend time with his grandchildren and their cousins, as well as his son. 

They’d had the most amazing time in Cornwall, the weather just perfect, sunny and warm without being too hot, and they’d spent time walking, playing on the beach, and of course visiting various castles and historical landmarks, Fao and Finn unable to kick the tradition of a lifetime. Both Fao and Finn had had to pack up the day before, unable to get any more time off work, but Hars and Tai had been able to get the extra day, along with Steve, and they’d chosen to stay and make the most of the time. Eventually though,  they’d had to pack up and go, though, and it was a shame to finally be driving home (although Tai’s back was looking forward to his proper mattress after a week on an airbed, something that Harrison had teased him about relentlessly.) 

It was a long drive back, with Tai taking the first half of the drive before they stopped, and Hars agreeing to take the second half. The kids were exhausted, which meant they were squabbling, and Tai twisted around in his seat for what felt like the hundredth time in five minutes. 

“Alfie! For the love of god, stop antagonising your brother! Kieran, don’t hit him. I know you’re tired, but that’s no excuse for violence.”

“He was being stupid!” Kieran protested, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ah, no. I don’t want to hear that sort of language, please. Nobody’s stupid. If you can’t get on, don’t talk to each other. Read, or do something else that doesn’t involve winding each other up. We’re nearly home now.”

“But-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Alfie.” He said, turning back. “Behave, the pair of you. We’ve had such a nice time, don’t ruin it now.”

"Come on, boys." Harrison said softly. "Why don't we play I-spy?"

"That's boring." Alfie huffed. 

"Alright. Tai, you gonna go first?" Harrison asked, ignoring Alfie's protest. 

"Sure. Uh, I spy with my little eye, something beginning with…T!"

As much as Alfie wasn’t interested, he joined in the guessing, and Harrison relaxed again. He glanced in the rear view, checking where his dad had got to, making sure he was still okay. Steve was only a few cars behind them, but that meant he was still on the right road, so he returned his attention to the road in front.

It all seemed to happen in both an instant and for eternity. There was a flurry of horns and the scream of breaks in front of him, a lorry crossing the central reservation and veering out of control - and heading straight for them. Harrison swore, instinctively swerving as much out of the way as he could; at least if the cab just hit his bit, the rest of them might be okay. There was a flash of pain, of metal grinding and bending, the bodywork biting into flesh, and then, nothing. 

There wasn’t a part of Harrison that didn't hurt. Each breath was a struggle, and the first few had him unconscious again. His ears were ringing, his kids were screaming, and as much as he tried to stay awake, to help them, it was no use. He groaned with each exhale, the overwhelming feeling of drowning only worsening with each breath. Despite his efforts, he couldn't piece together a coherent thought, but as a hand slipped into his, the thought was clear: Tai. He managed a squeeze back, barely there, so, so weak, and gone before he could do anything else. 

It happened so suddenly, one minute everything was fine, the next Harrison was swerving and everything exploded with pain. Tai had seen the lorry a split second later than Harrison, hadn’t clocked what was happening until too late. It was overwhelming and yet distant, and Tai’s only thought was Harrison, his ears ringing. He reached out for him, finding his hand. It seemed like an eternity before he felt Harrison squeeze back, the tiniest hint of movement. It was far too hard to stay conscious and Tai found himself slipping again, and whilst the panic rose it was too late - he was out, slipping into comforting blackness. 

Both twins had hit their heads against something, their thoughts sluggish and thick. But the car was suddenly not doing what it was supposed to, and neither parent was responding. Blood dripped from Kieran's nose, and there was a cut across Alfie's forehead that was oozing steadily. His throat was raw from screaming, begging his dads to talk to him, but there was nothing. Kieran's expression of panic matched his own, and the pair reached out to hold the other's hand, gripping onto Levi's in the middle.

A few cars behind, Steve had watched the whole thing unfold, watched the lorry suddenly veer, watched his son’s car swerve to avoid it, watched it unfold as the two collided in a horrible twist of metal. As he slammed on his brakes, and the traffic around him did the same, he felt sick to his stomach, grabbing his phone and immediately dialling the emergency services, waiting just a split second more before he leapt from the car, aware what he was doing was so, so dangerous and not caring. That was his son, his family. There was no way he was standing by and not doing anything. Not again. He’d do whatever he could to save them. 

Harrison was stubbornly unconscious as Steve got close, head resting against the door's window frame. Glass shards had torn his skin, the lazy trails of blood mixing with the steady stream from his nose and lips.

Other people headed towards the wreck too, a mix of wanting to help and morbid curiosity; after all, the state of the car screamed a fatality, or at the very least a life threatening injury. 

As Alfie caught sight of Steve, he hammered against the remaining glass. "Grandad!"

He was relieved to see his grandson, even frantic in his panic. He’d already tried what was left of Harrison’s door, and no dice, that wasn’t opening. He tried the back, desperate to help. “I’m here, I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” He reassured, though it felt cheap. 

"Dads aren't talking to us." Kieran's lip wobbled. "Are they dead?"

"Are we going to die?" Alfie added, eyes wide with fear.

"You're gonna be just fine, okay? I'm here." 

Ambulance, is the patient breathing?

"I, uh, I don’t know. We're on the m25, just after junction 9. My son, his kids, they've got in a crash. I can't get to him, I can't see if he's breathing. There's three kids. They're breathing, they're awake. I'm here, don't worry, I've got you." Steve did his best to relay through the panic. "There's two ten year olds, they've both got head injuries but they're talking. Levi, he's five, he's crying. You're doing so well, you're so brave, it's okay. Tai was the passenger, he's got a head injury, he's not conscious. Fuck, he's got an open fracture femur, yeah, he's breathing. Hey, easy, easy. No, no, he just got agitated but he's out again. I think Harrison's trapped, he's my son, he was driving. There was a lorry and it swerved across and hit them. Please hurry, I can't lose them. Harrison's got a pulse but his breathing is shit. I can't get to them, the car's all mangled. You're being so brave, Bug. I know, I know, it's scary, but you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be sick? That's okay, Kit, try and relax, breathe through it.

Harrison's had a liver transplant, he lost his leg in Afghanistan. Tai's a type 1, as is Kieran. Alfie has epi pens, he's got a few allergies, no, not to medications. Levi's got asthma, and problems with his lungs. Are you nearly here? You've got to be, please tell me they are." 

“That help is being arranged for you now, we’re coming as quickly as we can. Stay on the line with us until the crew is there, okay?”

He turned away, grief and worry overwhelming him. "I can't lose these too, not like this."

The dog barking pulled Steve from his spiralling thoughts of worst case scenarios. Scout. He was in the back, of course he was. He rushed round, pulling at the boot, trying to get it to open. It finally opened, much to his relief, and his hands shook as he tried to check if the dog was okay. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He reassured. “Good boy, Scout.”

Scout continued to wriggle around Steve before jumping against the car. He yelped as the metal scraped his paw pads, but continued trying to get to his family, panic clear in his whines.

“Careful, careful. It’s okay, we’ll get them out.” Steve tried to soothe the dog, as the sirens cut through the air. Finally. 

Alfie stretched a hand towards his grandfather, ignoring how the glass bit at his skin. Blood mixed with dirt as he desperately tried to seek comfort, not caring about anything else but his family. 

Steve reached out to take his hand. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” He reassured him. “It’s all going to be okay.” 

He gripped into Steve’s hand, holding it as tight as he could. His lip trembled as he searched Steve's face, but he was too overwhelmed and in shock to cry. 

"My leg hurts." He said softly. "And my toes are all tingly." 

Steve sighed, but tried to keep his face neutral. “It’s okay, the ambulance is nearly here.”

"Kieran's nose is bleeding and he's been sick and Levi hasn't stopped crying." He took a shaky breath. "And dad's aren't awake."

“It’s alright. Just breathe, just breathe. The ambulance is coming, your dads aren’t waking up just yet but they’re going to get help. They’re going to get you out as soon as they can, and Scout’s okay. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

"Why can't you get us out? Can't you fix it?"

“I can’t get the doors open, Bug.” He said gently. “And the paramedics need to have a look at you first, yeah?”

"Please, grandad. Please."

“I know, Alfie. If I helped you out now I could hurt you more, and I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to stay put, okay? Stay put and they’ll help you out as soon as you can. I need you to be brave. Can you be brave for me?”

"You won't hurt me."

“I know, I know.” 

Harrison groaned from the front seat, the pain overwhelming but cutting through the haze. 

"Kit? Bug? Leaf?" He slurred, trying to turn to check on them. The pain doubled and he groaned again, his head falling back against the headrest. 

“I’m going to go speak to your dad, okay Bug? You stay there for me, you’re being so so brave.” Steve said, moving to Harrison. “Harrison, Hars. You’re okay, don’t move, just breathe for me.”

Kieran, on the other hand, didn't listen, reaching forward for his dad desperately. 

“Kieran? Stay still for me kid, your dad just needs space, alright? I’m with him, I’m looking after him.”

He whined, tears falling immediately as he grabbed at his stomach. "It hurts!"

The sound of his son crying had broken through to Harrison, and he struggled against everything to try and move. He couldn't move his legs, and he wasn’t sure if it was because they were trapped, or worse. He couldn't feel his left leg, and there was a flare of embarrassment as he realised the seat was wet, though his fingers were red as he moved them away.

“Harrison!” Steve’s voice was sharp. “You need to stay still, okay? I’m here, I’m looking out for the kids. I need you to focus on you, alright? Talk to him, but don’t move.”

Everything was blurry and out of focus, and he could feel himself slipping again. "Kit's 'urt."

“Help is coming.” Steve reassured.

"They're not here."

“They will be.” He could still hear the sirens, fighting their way through the traffic. 

Harrison groaned once more, nausea flaring out of nowhere. He couldn't help but vomit, the retching sending a stab of pain lancing through his abdomen. It was all too much, and he finally slipped under again, eyes rolling. 

Steve hated every minute of this. He couldn’t do anything, he had no kit, he was completely useless and out of control. The only thing he could do was reassure his grandchildren, who were scared out of their mind. He couldn’t do this again, he couldn’t lose them like this. What Harrison had brought up looked to be pure blood, though with the amount of blood everywhere, it was almost hard to tell. He went back to reassuring the kids, the only thing he could do, Scout still barking and unsettled and making life a hundred times worse.

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober Day 22

For this prompt, I chose to write a second chapter for a one shot I made back in 2019! Hope you enjoy!

Teen & Up - Gen - Teen Wolf

Better Late Than Never - Chapter Two

     The night was long, with Stiles screaming himself awake more than once and Scott calming his best friend down with soft words and reassurances. It pained Scott to realize he had helped push Stiles to this point. He shouldn’t have pulled away after Allison’s death, hadn’t entirely meant to, but it was hard, so hard, to look at Stiles and not see the Nogitsune. But he would try harder, and like the saying goes, better late than never.

     Stiles’ lack of sleep and Scott’s guilty conscience led to an awkward morning as the two shuffled into the kitchen for breakfast. The recent past hung over them like a thick gloom, and Scott hated that he didn’t know how to break the tension. Usually, he could count on Stiles to clear the air, never one to let the silence linger, but today, the human was utterly quiet as he retrieved his toast from the toaster, his hands shaking as he grabbed a butterknife and immediately dropped it.

     “Here, let me.” Scott immediately offered, reaching for the knife when Stiles’ words stopped him.

     “Why are you even here?”

     “What?” Scott’s brow furrowed, and he placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Stiles, I’m here to help. I’m here because you’re my best friend.”

     Stiles scoffed, pulling away. “Some best friend I am, huh?” He asked, sobbing out a laugh. “What kind of best friend tries to kill you?”

     “Stiles, that wasn’t you,” Scott said softly, aching to close the small distance Stiles had put between them but giving him the space he needed.

     “But it was, Scott!” Stiles shouted, anger creeping into his voice. “It was me! I was right there the whole time! I remember it, what he… what we did.” He shut his eyes tight, hands curling into fists. “We killed people. A lot of people, Scott.” Stiles’ eyes were fathomless pits of shadows when he opened them, drawing Scott into the terror that lurked inside. “They never even saw us coming until they were dead on the floor.”

     Maybe the fear showed on Scott’s face then because Stiles’ gaze turned to a glare as he took a step forward, and instinctively, Scott took one back. “I remember watching them die, Scott, and I wasn’t just watching it happen. I was feeling it happen through the Nogitsune, and it felt good.” Stiles took another step forward, a sleek movement to the action like a well-experienced predator sneaking up on his prey.

     Scott didn’t move back this time, but that didn’t discourage Stiles as he continued. “You know what I felt when Coach went down, Scotty?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

     “No,” Scott answered, wincing at how his voice shook and regretting it when Stiles’ eyes took on a glaze of disappointment above the smile that had started twisting his lips.

     “I. Felt. Thrilled.” Stiles said with teeth bared in a smile that wasn’t remotely close to happy. “It was amusing, knowing that we had you all fooled. It stirred something inside us as his blood covered our hands, something dangerous that we embraced and chased after.”

     Scott closed his eyes as he tried to calm down and remind himself that Stiles was no longer the Nogitsune. His friend had been through hell; he was overwhelmed and pushed far past his breaking point, and he simply wasn’t thinking right. “Stop saying ‘we’, Stiles. That was all the Nogitsune, not you.” He said, opening his eyes to level his own glare at the other boy. “He made you feel those things. They were his emotions, not yours. He controlled you, so you couldn’t help those things.”

     Stiles exhaled, the sound thin and shaky as his smile disappeared, replaced with a grief that Scott would never understand. A single corner of his lips twitched into a non-existent smile, and he spoke. “Yet, you’re scared of me, Scott.”

     And Scott, he couldn’t deny it. It would be a lie, and a bald-faced one at that. But a little fear wasn’t going to break them. He wouldn’t let it.

     “I don’t want to be.” He said in a rush, finally bridging the distance between them as he grabbed Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles flinched, hands raising in surprise and making Scott flinch as well. But they didn’t pull away, even as their eyes reflected each other’s fear. “I don’t want to be scared of you, Stiles. You’re my best friend.”

     Stiles’ eyes watered, and Scott’s followed suit as he continued. “Stiles, you’re my brother, too.” The familiar words weren’t lost on Stiles, and Scott squeezed his shoulders as Stiles’ tears slipped over in tandem with his own. “And that isn’t going to change just because your face tried to kill me.”

     That broke the tension a little, and Stiles’ laugh broke the damn holding back his sobs as he broke down in the middle of the kitchen, clinging tight to Scott as the alpha held him close. Yes, Scott wouldn’t let Allison’s death or the Nogitsune get in the way of being there for Stiles. Not anymore.

[veryrealimagination]

"I'm not as stupid as you if you didn't see us coming."

Day No: 19 + 22

Prompt: "They never saw us coming, 'til they hit the floor." + "I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries.

Medium: fic

Trigger Warnings: allusions to SA

SFW

The group of men were chuckling at the constable and detectives they had finally captured. George was struggling against the arm around his neck while fighting to get his other arm free. It wasn’t going well. Someone was smart enough to get a hold of his gun and use it on Murdoch. Not that it would have mattered much, he was hovering over Watts. With blood coming out of a wound somewhere on his head and a stab wound that they had cruelly ripped the knife from, the younger one was in clear pain and had his attention. The man had cloth against the chest wound, pressing down, but they needed a hospital. Or at least, his wife.

“Station House Four, brought to its knees,” the one that appeared to be the leader said.

“We should have done this ages ago,” another one mentioned.

Another chuckled, “Even with the moron not in attendance, we’re still gonna managed to put a dent into their force.” He kicked Watts, thankfully missing the knife wound but still drawing a moan. “Could have had more fun with this one. He’s pissed off a lot of friends of mine.”

“Maybe they’ll use Murdoch instead?” one of them suggested.

“Well, part of their fun would have been,” he muttered, gesturing with something crude. The mere thought was vile, but darkly fun to ponder. Some had the same with women that said no.

Murdoch frowned and looked down at the younger man. Through a small slit of eyelids, he saw a small amount of fear wrapped in disgust at them. When he saw the man looking down at him, he made himself calm down. He muttered something incomprehensible at the moment. The man looked over at George, who was vaguely murderous when they started talking as such.

“So, how are we finishing them off?”

The one with their gun angled it down towards Watts, wanting the easy way. Murdoch wondered if he would be able to force it up before the trigger was pulled. Crabtree wondered if he could trip one of the men into knocking into him.

Instead, a cane came out of nowhere and bashed their so called leader in the head. Another man was twisted around before a fist crashed into his jaw. The third with the gun and the one holding Crabtree were swiftly and quickly taken down. Inspector Brackenreid picked up the revolver that they had gotten in their hands. “One of ours from the armory?” he asked, carefully checking it.

“Yes sir,” George admitted, “Managed to grab it after I was distracted.” Three more constables were cuffing and hoisting up the men that they took down.

Higgins, who had delivered two wonderful hits, glared at one of them. “You called me a moron,” he said, “Guess I wasn’t as stupid as you thought I was.” He punched the man again, getting a groan as it hit a previous bruise.

Brackenreid watched in amusement over the second punch. Then, he turned back to the other constable. “Distracted, Crabtree?” he questioned.

“They got the gun when one of them stabbed Watts and made him scream to get our attentions,” Murdoch informed. Brackenreid turned when he heard the man talking and saw his last man on the floor and held the cane tightly instead of dropping it when he reacted. “Sir, we need a cart.”

Higgins nodded, “The attendants should be arriving quickly. The lockup’s already here.” The men turned to him with slight surprised. “I had a hunch when I heard them talking.”

“Good hunch,” Brackenreid said, “Lead the others in locking them up and processing them. Crabtree, make sure they can get the gurney here safely.” The constables nodded and went about their orders. Kneeling down, he pulled out his own cloth to switch with Murdoch’s soaked one. He checked the head wound himself before staring down at the younger man, who was barely conscious. “You’re on desk duty for two weeks.” He groaned and made a face, eyes not even open anymore. “Three weeks.”

“I am lying on the floor in pain with my life slowly draining out of me, even with someone trying to keep it in, and you’re punishing me?” he complained.

“Four weeks.”

“I’m not a child,” Watts mumbled.

The attendants finally managed to make their way down, forcing the men to stand up and get out of the way as they loaded the now unconscious man to be delivered to the nearest hospital.

[kalira]

Splintered

Written for @whumptober Day 22! (theme: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.” prompt 1: Glass Shard prompt 2: Vehicular Accident prompt 3: ‟Watch out!”)

T; 4k Kei & Sho

An easy night's job for Sho and Kei, watching over him as ever, is all simplicity . . . until it's torn to shreds in a shower of sparkling glass - and blood.

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want. 

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐 ꕤ

Cha Eunwoo x fem!reader: handcuffs

summary: Putting a forgotten gifts from Valentine's day to good use.

warnings: smut, handcuffs, protected sex, shy eunwoo (not in bed though)

word count: 1.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You were full deep into a make out session with Eunwoo, your boyfriend. It was passionate and it had escalated to get heated and steamy very fast. You were moaning against Eunwoo’s lips as he sighed into yours, his hands coming up your sides to frame your wrists and pinned them down by the sides of your head. 

“Y/N…” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth. 

You licked your lips, trying to savour the last of his taste. 

Eunwoo felt his mouth watering as he saw how plump and swollen your lips were from all the kissing. “Can we- uh… can we use them?” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks reddening from the question.

You frowned, confused at his question. “Use what, baby?” you asked him. 

He swallowed and looked away. “The handcuffs” he said while his eyes were posed on your collarbone. 

Your eyes widened slightly. 

You had gifted him a pair of those popular pink fluffy handcuffs for valentine’s day and never got a chance to use them. They were stuffed inside one of the drawers from his side of your shared closet and you had honestly forgotten about them.

But now that he brought them up, you felt your thighs clenching together at the thought of your boyfriend using them on you.

“Yeah… pull them out” you smirked.

His eyes found yours again and gave you a heart crushing smile, pressing a kiss to your lips and then bolting towards the closet to pull the pair of pink handcuffs out. 

You sat up a little, watching your boyfriend strut back slowly towards you, twirling the cuffs around in his pointer finger.

“Arms up” he stated and you smiled, putting them up against the bedpost.

He kneeled next to your head and he gently placed them on your skin, closing them around your wrists. 

Once you were practically chained to the bed by your wrists, he knelt on the bed and took his shirt off, throwing it to the floor. You bit your lip, watching his amazing physique on display for your eyes only. 

Eunwoo’s fingers fiddled with the buttons of your tee and started undoing them one by one, torturously slow. 

When he finished unbuttoning your short top, he pulled it up over your armpits til they came to rest by your handcuffed wrists. His pupils were blown wide when he noticed the lack of bra on you. 

His mouth came immediately to envelope a nipple in his mouth, sucking it greedily while you trashed your legs on the bed, getting desperate. 

“Eunwoo…” you moaned, throwing your head back. 

He released your nipple with a wet sinful sound and then dragged his tongue towards the other one, giving it the same treatment. 

Once he was finished, he lifted his head and licked his lips seeing your nipples red from his mouth.

He moved his mouth towards your stomach and pressed kisses over your navel, his tongue moving over the hem of your panties. 

He grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled them off your legs before parting your legs, exposing your core to him. Eunwoo dove towards your pussy and licked a fat stripe over your hole, making you whine loudly. 

“Shit, Eunwoo” you mewled, your wrists starting to hurt from the constant pulling.

He placed his two fingers over your lips, parting you so he could push his tongue inside of you. 

You pushed your head back against the pillow, feeling like you were going to lose your mind from his assault on your most sensitive parts.  

Eunwoo suddenly stood up from the bed and you opened your eyes to watch as he kicked off the clothing sitting on his hips, standing naked in front of you. He grabbed a foil packet from his jeans that were on the floor, ripping it open and rolling it on. 

He grabbed your hips and roughly manhandled you to lay on your stomach. Then he pushed you in a position where your knees hit the mattress along with your elbows.

Eunwoo, once he had you on all fours, delivered a slight spank to your cheek and then lined up with your entrance, pushing his cock inside easily from your wetness. 

He grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him to get his cock as deep as he could. 

“You ready baby?” he asked you, dropping a kiss to your spine.

“Yeah, fuck move” you said, your hands gripping the bars of the bedpost tightly. 

Eunwoo groaned and started moving his hips quickly, snapping against your hips, creating a loud wet sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“Oh fuck, yeah” he moaned, throwing his head back, listening to your high pitched moans.

The bedpost hit the wall with even thuds, knowing that the paint was most probably going to get chipped. 

One of Eunwoo’s hands sneaked to grasp at one of your tits, playing with your nipple. “Shit, shit, shit. Right there” you said, spreading your legs a little wider so he could hit your spot better. 

He let out a loud moan when he felt you clenching around his base, making him snap his hips faster, pulling screams from you. You knew your throat was gonna be sore as fuck once you were done. 

Eunwoo groaned and kicked your legs apart a little, making him hit even  deeper. At that point, you were moaning brokenly against the pillow that was soaked by your drooling. 

“Shit, honey, please tell me you’re close” he whispered.

“Y-yeah” you moaned, feeling your wrists getting sore.

His hand went over to your pussy and started rubbing your clit, cupping you with his palm entirely.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking sexy” he moaned, seeing you fuck yourself back on his cock. “Come for me” 

You whimpered, feeling your toes curling as your orgasm approached you. With one last flick of your clit, you came around his length, gripping him tightly. 

He moaned at the pressure and thrusted hard a couple of times before exploding inside the condom, painting it white. 

Eunwoo let himself cool down for a couple of seconds before pulling his soft cock out of you, and discarded the ruined condom inside the trash bin next to your shared bed. 

Eunwoo let out a deep breath and went towards where your wrists were tied and quickly uncuffed you, his fingers brushing over the redness there. 

“Does it hurt? Are you okay?” he asked you.

You giggled, pulling him down towards a loving kiss.

“I’m okay. That was amazing” you smirked. “We should do that again some other time”

Eunwoo chuckled and nodded, getting shy all of a sudden, like he wasn’t fucking you like a whore just mere seconds ago. 

“How about… next time… I use them on you, hm?”

── .✦

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i apologise if i can't tag u :(

[apothe-roses]

I Wanna Ride

modern Aemond Targaryen x reader

Part 1

Summary: After finally getting your hands on a ‘dragon’, you find yourself needing help with repairs. Enter hot yet rude mechanic Aemond Targaryen

Fic contains: swearing, Aemond beings prick, I think that’s it?

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this fic for weeks and am finally ready to post it. I tried to use the right terminology, but I know fuck-all about biker culture so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Hope you enjoy!

“No fucking way.”

Alysanne Blackwood turns and looks at you, mouth agape. “You actually got one.” You smile back at her, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I know. I didn’t fully believe it myself til I saw her in person.” The ‘her’ in question was a beat-up white motorcycle that was currently sitting in your workshop, but this wasn’t just any old bike. No. This was a dragon. The top of the line. Even non-bikers knew a thing or two about dragons. Made by Targaryen Corp., these beauties were prized for their powerful engines, speed, and endurance. The model you picked up was a Meraxes—one of the earlier models that has since been retired.

“I never thought you’d actually pluck up the nerve to buy a bike for yourself. Much less a dragon.”

“You know I’ve always wanted to learn to ride,” you tell her.

“Yeah, but you never acted on that. Well, ‘til now,” Aly quips.

“I already know more than enough about bikes,” you assert.

“Fixing a dragon and riding one are two completely different things.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do both.”

“We’ll see,” Aly laughs. You smile back, shoving her playfully.

That had been six months ago. You were so close to being ready, but you'd hit a roadblock in her repairs. No matter what, you just couldn't get the transmission to run the way you wanted it to.

"If you stare at that engine for much longer, it's gonna burst into flames," Alysanne muses. You look over your shoulder and shoot her a glare. She only giggles at you, hopping off the workbench she was sitting on.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with needing help every once in a while," she says.

“I know,” you sigh back. “It’s just…”

“Too stubborn to admit defeat?” she teases.

“No!” you answer back a little too quickly.

“Maybe,” you mutter, turning your gaze towards the floor. “It’s also the money.” Mechanics who worked on older bikes were hard to come by in your area, and the ones that were in the area charged an arm and a leg for their services.

"Listen, I know just the place for you to go. There’s this one place Cregan loves to frequent. He swears up and down they're the best in town. I’ve met the owners several times, and they’re trustworthy. One of them even specializes in older bikes like this gal right here," she pats one of Meraxes's handlebars. That piques your interest. You knew Aly’s boyfriend was a man of his work, so this place must be good if he says so.

“And will this specialist leave me up to my ears in debt?”

“They’re pretty far when it comes to prices for service. Plus, you can always come to me if you’re short a few bucks,” Aly replies, going to grab her phone. You grimace at the thought. You love Aly and appreciate her generosity, but you don’t like the idea of inconveniencing herself to help you (even if she comes from a rich family). Aly walked back over to you, phone in hand.

“Do you want your bike fixed, or are you gonna stay stuck at a dead end for who knows how long?”

You look at her phone, open to the Contacts app, then back at your bike. You let out a sigh.

“What’s the name?”

That's how you found yourself pulling up to Green Auto Shop in the passenger seat of Aly’s pickup truck, your precious Meraxes securely tied down in the back. It was a rather unassuming garage located not far from Blackwater Bay. Alysanne looks over at you from the driver’s seat. "Don't judge a book by its cover," she says, undoing her seatbelt and opening her door.

You scramble to follow her as she walks confidently into one of the garages. You see a pair of legs sticking out from beneath an old car. Music blares in the background mixed with the sound of metal on metal.

"Egg," Aly shouts over the ruckus. "You've got company." The man working under the car slides out, giving Aly a bright smile. You can't help but gape as Aegon fucking Targaryen walks over to greet the two of you. You've heard and seen a lot about the eldest son of Viserys Targaryen. He has quite the reputation for drinking and partying, but the Sunfyre—a model he masterminded—is one of the company's most popular. In all the photos you've seen of him, he always looked sullen and hungover, a far cry from the relaxed and cheerful man before you.

"Aye, it's Cregan's girl, "he greets, wiping his hands off on a dirty rag. His gaze shifts to you, giving a quick once-over. “And who is this?” He asks flirtatiously while sauntering over to you. “Hi, I’m Aegon,” he holds a mostly clean hand out.

“She’s my friend,” Alysanne replies, pushing her way between the two of you. “And she’s here to see your brother, not you. She’s having trouble with her bike and could really use his help.”

Aegon pouts and puts his hand over his heart. “You don’t trust me, Aly? I’m wounded.” He rubs his hands together, walking out to the pickup. “Now let’s see what my little bro’s got to work with.” Without waiting for permission, he hops into the truck bed and whistles at the bike.

“Never thought I’d see a Meraxes in person again. Aem’s gonna have a field day with this beauty.” Aly grabs his pant leg and gives it a tug. “Off,” she orders. He hops back onto the pavement, his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Where is your cryptid brother? It feels like he’s never here,” Aly asks.

“You just missed him. He went to grab lunch,” Aegon responds. “He’ll be gone a while, but we can talk pricing in the office?” He leads the two of you back into the garage, to a small office off to the side. As you feared, the service would be quite expensive, but Aegon set you up with a payment plan. That put you at ease a bit. You’re also worried about the fact that you haven’t met the person who will actually be working on your bike. You voice your concerns to Aly over burgers that evening.

“Aemond isn’t…the best with people, but what he lacks in people skills he makes up for in his work. Cregan claims he’s a miracle worker after he fixed his Direwolf following a gnarly crash,” Aly reaches across the table and gives your hand a squeeze. “Trust me, your baby’s in good hands.”

About a week later, you borrow Aly’s truck to swing by the garage and check on your bike. One of the doors was up, but Aegon was nowhere to be found. You wondered if he left the garage open by mistake, but you could hear noises coming from in the garage.

You tentatively walk to the entrance and peek inside. Your Meraxes was propped in the bay where you’d left it. Someone was kneeling in front of it, clearly at work. His back was turned, so all you could see was his back and the long, silver hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.

So this must be the elusive Aemond. You knew significantly less about him than you did his other siblings. Him attending public events was rare, and taking photos at said events was rarer.

Cryptid indeed.

You take a tentative step into the garage. He doesn’t notice you approaching, completely engrossed by the bike.

“Um, hello,” you say shyly. He goes rigid, the wrench falling from his grasp. He turns to look at you, and your brain shuts down. You fully expected some kind of Quasimodo-looking guy based on how everyone described Aemond. But this man looked like a Greek statue come to life.

From his nose to his cheekbones to even his lips, he was all sharp angles. One of his eyes was covered by a simple black path. The other was a soft blue, almost periwinkle. The coveralls he’s wearing are unzipped down to his navel, showing the dirty white singlet underneath.

“Can I help you?” He asks briskly, rising to his feet and snapping you out of your daze.

You’re taken aback by his bluntness, a far cry from Aegon’s relaxed demeanor.

“Yeah…I’m here to pick up my bike,” you reply, indicating to the bike behind him.

He gives you a small ‘hmm’ and grabs a rag to wipe his hands. Your gaze is drawn to his long, elegant fingers and the prominent veins that trail down from his arms.

“Your transmission clip was loose,” he explains curtly. “Had to replace it.”

He walks over to the bike, swings a leg over, and starts her up. The engine revs without a problem.

“Crazy how something so small can cause such a large problem,” you say. He once again doesn’t respond, only kills the engine and moves away from the bike. An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

“Sooo…how many of these older bikes do you usually—“

“I need to get back to work. You can talk to Aegon about payment and such. He’s in the back,” Aemond interjects, turning and walking away from you. Your mouth falls open, eyebrows raised.

“O-okay. I was just trying to make conversation,” you mutter.

“Well, I Don’t have time to ‘make conversation.’ I’ve got work to do,” he replies, back turned.

“Apparently, you Don’t have time for manners either,” you snap back.

Aemond turns to you. “Excuse m-“

“Hey! What’s going on?” Aegon rushes in from a back room. He smiles, but his eyes glance nervously between the two of you. “I see you’ve met my brother.” Aemond casts his gaze towards the ground, giving yet another ‘hmm.’

Unfortunately, you want to tell him. Instead you say, “I can give you the first payment now.”

“Awesome! Let’s handle that in the office, shall we?” Aegon asks, ushering you away without waiting for a response. Not that you needed to give one; you were more than eager to get away from Aegon’s rude brother. You pay Aegon, then the two of you head back into the garage. Aemond is nowhere to be found. Busy my ass, you think, trying not to grimace.

Together, you and Aegon load your Meraxes into the bed of the pickup. When you're done, you both lean against the side. Aegon turns his head to look at you.

“Sorry ‘bout Aemond. He’s not…the best with people. But he’s wicked good at what he does. This shop wouldn’t be running without him.”

You don’t say anything, only giving a small nod in response.

“Hey, if you’re free this weekend, there’s a meet going on near Visenya’s hill. You should come. It’ll be fun,” he explains with a small smile.”Ask Aly about it. She should know all the details.”

“Alright,” you tell him. “I’ll be there.”

Next Part