#head in my hands. why am i so fucking irritating and exhausting and stupid and difficult and off-putting. argh.

[piplupod]

hearing the question "how are you doing?" every single day i show up (not an issue in and of itself) and i cannot say "i am not doing well actually, but how are you?" because they seem to have an unofficial no bummers rule in place (with the exception of like two elders who i guess have somehow earned the right to gripe and complain when no one else is allowed to, even other elders) (being unable to reply even somewhat truthfully is the issue at hand) but oh my god I am Not Doing Well

[miss-tc-nova]

S/O with Sleep Apnea - Leona, Jade, Floyd, Malleus

Okay, so this one kinda threw me for a loop. Sleep apnea is weirdly vague treatment wise, so I had to kinda...guess how to go about this. But I hope this lives up to your expectations, Anon!

Sorry about Jade and Floyd, this is actually my first time writing them. Lol

Premise: The boys find out their s/o has sleep apnea

Words:

Leona: 594

Jade: 610

Floyd: 689

Malleus: 702

~~~~~

Leona

Leona is no stranger to daytime drowsiness, having his own wrecked circadian rhythm. Seeing you tired and maybe grumpy is like having a kindred spirit. Hell, he doesn’t even mind the snoring. It’s kind of cute; plus he can always tease you about it later.

However, the seriousness of your sleep malady becomes all too real when the lion drowsily rises to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. On his return, rounded ears note a distinct, unnerving silence. His gaze immediately honing in, Leona sights you still fast asleep on his bed—suspiciously still. A shock of adrenaline floods his system as Leona snatches your shoulders. The jostling is just enough to remind your unconscious mind to adjust your throat muscles and asleep you remain.

But Leona will not be getting anymore sleep that night. Grumbling, he tries to shrug it off and get back to bed, but the moment he suspects it’s been too long since he heard your snore, his head promptly leaves the pillow to check on you.

Whether you’re aware of the apnea or not, Leona confronts you the next day, exhausted and irritable.

This sparks the first motivated study session Leona’s had in a long time. He reads up on the condition and treatment, even during class time. He’ll be damned if he loses sleep over having to worry about you while he sleeps. No, he does not worry about you.

First off, he gets one of those mandibular splint things. Being part of the SpellDrive club…Never mind, he finds Ruggie—being part of the SpellDrive club—to help shape your new mouthguard to fit. If that doesn’t work, he’ll consider the more expensive options. Do you get a say? No. Which is why he’s starting out small.

Unfortunately for Big Kitty, other non-surgical treatments include routine and healthy habits.

Fuck.

Suddenly, alarms are much more important. On his phone, on your phone, and even on Ruggie’s phone, there are two to three morning alarms. Goodbye sleeping in. It is now mandatory for BOTH of you to attend morning SpellDrive training. Doesn’t matter that you can’t fly nor does it matter if you’re any good, Leona’s up, so you are too.

Probably the most killer part is the nap regulations. No longer are you allowed to have random naps throughout the day. They must be before 2 AM and no longer than 30 minutes. Maximum. He hates every bit of it.

By the time evening comes around on the first day, both of you are suffering, so abiding by a new bedtime is no problem. But for a while, things get worse from the exhaustion. Admittedly, Leona considers kicking you out, but the thought of losing his favorite body pillow easily throws him off that idea. So the lion sticks it out.

And his efforts pay off. As the two of you struggle through a new routine, the grogginess and irritability gradually fade. Hell, even Leona has been less grumpy as he settles in, but don’t push it. Of course, the sleep apnea never truly goes away, but you sleep better with a proper routine. And Leona sleeps better without that nagging worry ticking in his brain.

“Oi, wake up. Nap’s over. I don’t care that you’re still tired; so am I. Get up. If you don’t get up right now, you can forget about sleeping in my room tonight. I ain’t putting up with your jacked up snoring. No, I’m not lying. Wanna try me? Hey! Don’t roll back over! Ugh, stupid herbivore. Shut up.”

Jade

Jade was very surprised at the snoring. He’d heard of the phenomenon, but never heard the sound first hand. He didn’t know what to make of it, but eventually attuned and accepted that this is how you slept.

He was not aware that your brand of sleeping was…wrong?

Having ventured into his beloved mountains, Jade ends up returning from later than expected. Well informed, you’re already fast asleep upon his return. As he unpacks and gets cleaned up, a small smile etches onto his lips as he listens. Then it stops. His attention turns to find you perfectly still. Alarm quickly grows, spurring him to your side. An arm beneath you and your name on his lips is enough of a shift to clear your throat. The snoring resumes.

And Jade will not be getting any sleep. The young man resolves to observe you for the remainder of the night. His late night investigations lead him to sleep apnea. The symptoms check out: perpetual exhaustion, a smidge of insomnia, headaches, and yes, he had to concede that you could be irritable at times. Oh, and look at that, your particular snoring isn’t that normal.

From that moment on, the eel begins formulating a plan. From what he could conclude, sleep hygiene played a considerable role in the management of sleep apnea. He starts with monitoring your daily routines, taking notes on the things that need to be corrected—you know, the things you do just trying to survive the day.

After a week, he finally begins implementing his little tricks. It starts with a morning routine. It’s not jarring alarms that wake you in the morning, but Jade’s gentle coaxing until you’re up and ready. At the same time, every day. He ensures you’re too distracted for any afternoon naps, asking for your assistance with his work or perhaps doing some little activity together.

And you don’t even notice him starting to regulate your caffeine intake. Post 2 PM and you’re cut off. Whatever tea and/or coffee you drink comes decaf. Alternatively, he preempts your caffeine craving with something without the addictive substance. He knows your tastes well enough to provide something to make you forget about your caffeine deprivation.

About thirty minutes before your new, undisclosed bedtime, Jade, himself, becomes a distraction. This could be reading a book, listening to music, preparing for tomorrow, or just having an entertaining discussion with him. Whatever it is, it involves no screens for you.

In addition to your new, wind-down routine, Jade prepares the room to perfection. The bed is comfortable, it’s not too hot or too cold, no light permeates the darkness, and even a pleasant scent lulls your sleepy mind.

Thanks to your fastidious boyfriend, it’s quite easy to conform to this new routine. It helps alleviate some symptoms of your sleep apnea and does wonders for your mood. While the sleep apnea won’t be cured, Jade makes them easy to endure, even on the worst of nights. And honestly, it takes months before you even put together what he’s done.

“My dear, shall we start on the next chapter of our story? I’m quite invested in what will happen next. Hm? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. You think I would manipulate my lovely partner in such a way? I see. Your suspicion wounds me. Oh? Hm-hm. You got me. I wondered how long it would take for you to notice. It’s only been three months. No, no, I’m flattered you would be so comfortably oblivious around me. I’m glad you’re feeling better. That’s all the payment I need. Well, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss.”

Floyd

For like a solid week, Floyd thought snoring was the funniest thing. He’s not sure if snoring can even happen underwater, but he’s never heard it before. So needless to say, that part didn’t bother him at all. It did get him all miffed when you would get snippy with him, but he had to relent when you would complain of a headache.

One night, there’s a disaster in the Lounge and Azul keeps all the staff late until it’s clean—Floyd included. So when he gets back to his room rather late, it’s no surprise that you’re there, already fast asleep and snoring away. Just as he finishes changing and is about to get into bed, he pauses.

It’s quiet—too quiet. Lazy eyes fall across his sleeping partner. The usual snoring he’d come accustomed to is gone. You weren’t breathing. His first reaction is to reach out, calling out to you. By the arm, he shakes you enough to jump start your breathing, yet somehow not wake you. Suspicious, he watches you for a moment, waiting for it to happen again. But it doesn’t take long for Floyd to get bored and join you in bed.

He mentions the occurrence to Jade and Azul. The snoring is fine, but he’s not particularly fond of the not breathing thing. That’s kind of important for land-dwellers, right? The trio quickly discovers what sleep apnea is.

At first, Floyd lets the whole thing go. But the longer the information lingers in his brain, the more the symptoms begin to eat at him until he finally admits that this sleep apnea thing really sucks.  

The sophomore gets Azul and Jade to help him figure out how to fix this. Honestly, there’s not much he can do, let alone with his own erratic behavior. But he starts with little things that he remembers.

He’s not very nice about it if he catches you napping, immediately waking you up, consequences be damned. Though he does try to make you less grumpy for it with favors and snacks.

And these snacks HAD to be Floyd-approved. Anything after dinner is confiscated and caffeine is off the table after 2 PM. And so dedicated to his task, Floyd will recklessly devour any treats unable to be saved for later, but only because he got in trouble for hurling them across the room. By multiple people. No, it doesn’t matter if it screws him over—chugging something too hot or wired and wide awake later. He’s being chaotic, but he’s doing it for you.

Lastly, Floyd is aware that how you sleep can help keep your airways clear. He acquires an extra pillow—from Azul’s room—to help elevate your head. If you weren’t a side sleeper before, you are now. Sometimes, in the dead of night, the eel just sits up like the living dead. Bapping hands assess your situation, pushing and pulling until you’re sleeping on your side, head propped up on your new pillow.

These new habits soon alter your own. You give up on naps, fed up with being violently rattled awake. You stop wasting money and effort on food and drinks you know you’re not supposed to have. You can’t even sneak any of those things because Octavanelle is full of snitches. Actually, it’s full of people afraid of Floyd, but same thing. With these regulations, your sleep schedule slowly stabilizes—it’s not perfect, but better. Even the grogginess and headaches are significantly more manageable. And Floyd is rather proud of himself about the whole thing, knowing that he’s the reason you’re doing better.

“Heeeeey, what’s that you got there? Looks like something loaded with caffeine. I don’t think you should have that. Gimme! Huh? Gross. This isn’t caffeine. Man, I was hoping for something good. Huh? Yeah, looks like you’re being good. And you have been sleeping better. So, do I get a reward? Whadya mean what for? For fixin’ your jank sleep. C’mon, at least give me something better than this decaf crap. Mmm, I guess a kiss will do—but like a million of ‘em. You better get started.”

Malleus

Malleus is fully aware you’re a rough sleeper and he adores it anyway. He knows of your general disdain of being awake and is sensitive of your frequent headaches. This man thrives on learning about you: the good, the bad, and the noisy.

As a nocturnal fae, he’s often awake well after you’ve gone to bed. It takes mere days for an incident to occur. Content in the presence of your sleeping form, he listens and takes in the confirmation that you’re here with him.

So it comes as a startle when he realizes the room is dead silent.

Fear immediately overtakes his rationale when he turns to find you perfectly motionless. Swiftly dragging you into his arms, he rushes for the door. Then freezes. In his arms you lie, still fast asleep, now snoring again.

He does not join you in bed this night, far too afraid that you might slip away while he sleeps. It nearly makes him sick, but he’s filled with relief when you awake the following day.

That’s the day Malleus learns about sleep apnea. He doesn’t like it at all. He thought he loved everything about you, flaws and all. But this is detrimental to your health and happiness and he must do something.

He seeks guidance in books and his friends. Lilia is of little help with his recommendations of hare-brained remedies. Silver and Sebek are quick to shut those down for the sake of an innocent soul. Still, with their help, they’re able to come up with a plan.

Malleus would readily fund any treatment you’re willing to try, from the smallest medical device to the most extensive surgery. As the issue at hand is not currently life threatening, he won’t push too hard for surgery—for now.

Still, other lifestyle changes are an option. This turns into a very difficult time for him as he loathes denying you literally anything. Waking you from cozy naps nearly breaks his heart. Taking away treats you’re preparing to enjoy makes him feel like a villain. He’s invariably torn between his guilt and adoration of your pouty face. Only his wishes for your well-being keeps him going.

However, his favorite part of this whole thing has to be the new bedtime routine.

It starts with closing the curtains, blocking out all outside light from coming through. The temperature of the room is adjusted to comfortably cool while the scent of sweet briar roses wafts through the air. Songs fill the silence while a gentle interruption of whatever task you had at hand brings your attention fully to him. There’s no arguing with him, not this late. And you dance. Just peaceful swaying as you talk of anything and everything. Whatever you have to say, he’ll hear it. Because this is your time together.

Just as your eyes begin to flutter and the first yawns interrupt your sentiments does Malleus send you off to brush your teeth, put in your new mouth splint, and get dressed for bed. If for some reason, you fend off sleep long enough, he’ll coax you from bed to sway again. Or perhaps you’ll sit at the window while he tells you fairy tales he was taught as a hatchling. Once you start nodding off again, he returns you to bed. He’ll repeat this as many times as he has to until you’re truly asleep.

If you opt to accept surgery, your sleep apnea is practically cured and you’ll be incredibly pampered through recovery. If not, Malleus’s efforts still pay off. Not only has your health significantly improved, but so has your mood. And any new incidents are practically non-existent. While Malleus feels your bond has become significantly stronger with these changes, he pleased that, above all else, you’re feeling better.

“Come now, my love. It’s time to put the pen down. I’ll help you with the rest tomorrow. How was your day today? I’m glad. You haven’t been having any headaches lately, have you? Hmm, I suppose that’s still better than it was. I’ll have to ensure we have more painkillers tomorrow just in case. Of course I’m going to. I have to take care of you after all. I always will.”

~~~~~

Nova's Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

[makeyoumine69]

Till Death Do Us Part (Chapter Seven—Patrick's POV)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader; [no y/n]

SUMMARY: "Can I be any more delusional?" I asked myself when I heard the voices of the past inside my head.

CONTAINS: Smut, swearing, non-con elements, delusions, fantasizing, vaginal sex, oral sex (f&m), body worship, nipple play, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, manhandling, referring of rough loss of virginity and blood, toxic behavior, childhood trauma, dominance, dom/sub dynamics (Patrick is a soft!dom).

WORDS: 3k

A/N: Hello everyone! I am trying to keep up the pace with the updates and I hope you enjoy the new chapter as this one is special to me since I love writing Patrick's POV. Also, I'd like to thank everyone who supports my writing, I appreciate every comment you make and every like counts! I love you all!💗💖🙏💋 P.S. I highly recommend listening to this song while reading: Pastel Ghost — Shadows (slowed version).

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

At first I was surprised that I didn't hear any sounds behind the door—no crying, no protests, nothing, as if you had fainted or... died of a heart attack? I frowned at the thought, but perhaps it was for the best? Sighing, I opened my eyes and to my dismay, I was still here, in this fucking summer house. I was so tired, exhausted even. 

Why did everything have to be so fucking complicated?

My jaw tickled as I looked down at my groin—I was still so hard and if you weren't there I could have solved this problem by now, probably had several orgasms and slept soundly in the room I had chosen for tonight. But no, that was not going to happen, because you were the biggest pain in the ass. 

Fucking troublemaker.

This mocking nickname popped up in my mind out of nowhere, making my lungs burn with a twisted desire to sink deeper into the past, even though nostalgia was the last thing on earth I wanted to indulge in, but now, in my current state, I wanted to make myself remember something. Something deeply personal and complex. Something I was desperately trying to bury in my soulless flesh—what I was.

A soft, girlish voice called out to me. It was so loud I had to close my ears, but then someone's tiny hands covered my eyes. "Guess who?"

Paralyzed, I took a deep breath before reaching out to tickle the tender skin pressed against my face. When I heard a sonorous laugh, I recognized it almost immediately. "Becca?"

Involuntarily, I gasped in frustration as you removed your delicate palms from my face. "How are you doing this?"

"What?" I asked as I turned to face you.

"Guessing so easily," you murmured, smiling mischievously like a little vixen from the cartoons we both loved to watch. "My dad always struggles to recognize me..."

"He's just pretending," I cut you off, crossing my arms, my tone stern, though I enjoyed the way your eyebrows furrowed as my words offended you. "I knew it was you the moment you... touched me."

"Oh?"

"Yes, because you always do such things...stupid things." 

For a brief moment, we both remained silent, and I used that pause to take in the surroundings, finding us in the backyard of the huge mansion that definitely belonged to my family.

"Patty," your voice sounded more like a whisper now, as if you were afraid of something...or someone...someone like me? "I have something for you."

With these words, you carefully slipped into the pockets of your blue jeans to reveal a small object that turned out to be a charm. A kitten charm, to be exact. Confused, I watched you hand me the charm and for a moment I didn't even know what to do. 

"What is it?"

My reaction seemed to take you off guard, but you managed to keep a warm smile on your beautiful face. "I know it won't replace the one you had before," you looked away guiltily. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I lost that charm, but maybe... maybe you'll like this one? It's my favorite," you kept muttering and it started to irritate me, so I just snatched the little piece of plastic out of your trembling hands, making you stop talking for a dear moment. "My mom gave it to me after my first dentist appointment."

Chuckling in disbelief, I lifted the charm so the rays of the setting sun could illuminate it for a proper look. "Jeez," I grinned at how tense you were watching my reaction. "You're such a troublemaker. Always have been and always will be."

"Patrick..."

My lips curled up as I quickly turned and walked away in the direction of the large well my mother had always been fond of. 

"Patrick! What are you doing?" I heard your concerned questions, which only spurred me on to go faster.

When I finally reached the well, I stopped at its rim and, with my dark eyes staring at you mockingly, I dropped the charm into the dark water of the well, the little echo of the splashing liquid bringing me delirious joy. The way your lips trembled when you realized what I had done made me laugh.

So pathetic.

"Why? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" You cried out, shimmering tears streaming down your cheeks. "I just... I just wanted to make things better... I just... wanted you to forgive me!"

Annoyed, I growled and leaned against the cold stones of the well. "Yeah, yeah, keep crying. What else can you do? Run to your mommy?"

And even though I expected you to say something else, I wasn't surprised when you clenched your fists and ran away from me—I didn't even try to follow you, not even a tiny part of me wanted to, I just couldn't see myself comforting you. There was no way I'd do that, you were a troublemaker who should have always known your place.

A barely audible wail brought me back to the present. I was still standing next to the bathroom door and just as I was about to leave this fucking room, I heard another muffled scream. Biting my lower lip, I sighed and almost hit the door, but instead of actually slamming it, I pressed my ear to hear more of your whimpering—it was like fuel for my ego and I needed it very much, maybe even too much. My dick was still so engorged it almost hurt and just then a dark thought crept into my mind. 

What if I just open this door, rip off your clothes and fuck you silly?

The very idea made me shiver, bridging the wicked smile on my face from the notion that no one could even stop me in my intentions, considering we were alone in this huge house, no one would even manage to hear your pitiful cries for help when I finally got my hands on you. Yes, I would just walk in and grab your little trembling body and throw you to the floor, enjoying the way you would beg and scream for me to stop, but I would just laugh in your face.

Oh, I would. I definitely would.

And then I'd undo my robe and force you to suck me until you choked on my cock for ruining my fun—you would fucking pay your price for every second of it. Fuck, I wouldn't care if you bleed as I slam into your innocent pussy and you scream in pain, but you couldn't even imagine how much it would turn me on. Oh, no. You couldn't even imagine who you were trapped under the same roof with.

A dark, deep chuckle fell from my lips after I licked them in sweet anticipation, my slightly trembling hand was already on the doorknob, but as I was about to open it, I stopped when I heard your soft mumbling—you were trying to reassure yourself that everything would be all right—it was so pathetic of you, but it made me stop in my tracks. My eyebrows knitted together, I wanted to slap myself to shake off this strange feeling, it was something like a magic spell that was unknown to me. And now I still wanted to open the damn door in front of me, but instead of actually taking you against your will, I wanted... I wanted to see the longing in your big, beautiful eyes. Longing, not contempt. And that shift in my mind was crucial. It was terrifying.

The sound of the door clicking echoed in my head as I cautiously stepped into the bathroom to find you sitting on the floor wearing nothing but those fucking pink cheesy socks I hated so much, but now I finally understood why I hated them so much—it was because they turned me on like no porn magazine could—now everything seemed to fall into place.

"Patty," you purred and crawled over to me, almost rubbing against my leg like a kitten starved for touch. "You came."

I grinned and hummed, reaching out to pat your head. "Yes, Dove...I'm here."

Dove?! Oh, my fucking God! Did I really remember what I used to call you?

The look you gave me was captivating, so full of devotion, it was exactly what I needed, exactly what I had always longed for. Slowly, I lowered my palm and gently stroked your cheek, still wet from your tears, while your elegant hands played with the knot of my robe. 

"Oh, you are such a cute little plaything, aren't you?" I asked, lifting your chin so that our eyes locked. "So needy for me already?"

You nuzzled against my palm and did so, I watched as you carefully tugged at the knot that was then loose enough to open my robe and I couldn't help but groan as my erection sprang up and you wrapped your little hand around it almost instantly. You were unnaturally bold and confident in your actions, which was nothing more than an obvious sign that this was all just my imagination, but I didn't care. Now you were mine and that was all that mattered.

All the while you were licking the tip of my cock, now red and swollen from your touch, I could feel the warmth of your tongue and it drove me crazy as you used it so skillfully that I almost cummed right here and now into your inviting mouth.

"Patty," you used that nickname again and I had to stifle a moan. "Will you forgive me...now?"

My eyes were half open when you asked me this, and I couldn't care less about answering, but your pleading glance stirred something in me. "I...uh..." I paused to find the right words, for the first damn time in my life, and then stopped you, wanting your full attention. "Listen to me very carefully, Dove. You're not guilty and you never were...you don't need to be forgiven."

You stared at me without blinking, as if I were a god coming to the altar you worshiped at, and I could swear I'd never seen anyone look at me like that—those eyes so full of devotion would haunt me all my life—if only I didn't try to run away from it. If only I knew that I had been running in circles all this time.

"Kiss me." You said it without any doubt in your sweet voice.

And I obeyed, as if those two words were a secret code that only you knew. I approached your beautiful face, pressed my lips to yours, my hand found its rest in the back of your head and gently brought you closer. Those little obscene sounds you made during the kiss were stunning, they took me far away from here, to the place where there was no pain and sadness, but happiness and love. 

I wish that place really existed.

As the making out intensified and my control faded away, I couldn't think straight, so I gave in to the rush led by my primal instincts. With practiced ease, I picked you up and moved to the nearest bathroom counter. Carefully, I placed you on it, your legs spread open for me so that I could settle comfortably between them before you wrapped them around my lower back and pressed against me, your hard nipples grinding against my chest.

"A-ahh," you mewled as I nipped at your neck, throwing your head back to give me more space to worship. "I missed you so much...please, never leave me again."

"I won't," I huffed against your throat as I peppered your soft skin with light pecks before drawing down to your collarbone, leaving a wet hickey here and there. "You...are mine...all mine!" I literally grunted as I squeezed and massaged the soft mounds of your breasts, feeling the weight of them, enjoying their tautness. "Fuck, you have such perfect tits..."

With that, I squashed your tits in a way that allowed me to suck both of your hard peaks at the same time, driving you completely numb, your breathing uneven and rapid, your hands desperately clutching at me for support, and I didn't falter in what I was doing, as your moans were the best prize. 

"Pat-Patrick," you clung to my shoulders, arching your back. " Are you going to eat me out?"

God, you sound so hot when you talk like that.

"Is that what you want?" You nodded, but I just chuckled. "Use your words, honey," I crouched down a bit and ran my finger over your belly, going lower to tease the top of your mound. "Is that what you want?" I grinned, drawing out the words on purpose because I wanted you to beg for me. "Hmmm?"

"Yes!" You shivered impatiently and gripped the edge of the counter. "Please..."

"Good girl."

My hands rested possessively on your hips as I knelt before you, my hot breath tickling the soft flesh between your legs, and as I swiped my flat tongue along your blushing clit, I could feel you falling apart under my touch. 

"Mmh-hhmm, Patty," you squeaked as I slurped at your soaped pussy. "I've been craving this... for so long."

Pleased with how responsive you were, I tugged on your little bud and then grazed it a bit, coaxing a loud moan from your plump lips. "I know, babe, I know," I replied, raising my hands to cup your ass. "But now you have it...you have all...of me," my own voice wavered with excitement as I teetered on the edge of going completely insane. "Fuck, you're so tasty," I sucked on your little tip and closed my eyes, drinking all your fluids and moaning against your cunt as I waited as long as you did. " I'm gonna fuck you now," I gave your butt a quick squeeze, went back to the previous position between your legs and the next moment I was already pocking at your wet entrance. "Look at me."

"I..." you stuttered as I grabbed your neck and forced you to look at me. "Patrick, I'm..."

"No, you're not a virgin anymore," I said, pushing myself all the way in. I groaned from the tightness and warmth of your inner walls that enveloped me so deliciously. "I've fucked you so many times before...don't you remember?"

Whimpering, you clasped my shoulders with your trembling hands. "It's...s-so big!"

"Right." I snickered arrogantly, but gave you some time to get used to it.

Just like the first time.

I leaned forward a little so our foreheads were pressed together and began to thrust into you at a steady pace, your legs closed around me in a tight ring. It felt so good, too good even for a fantasy. The sounds of our bodies colliding filled the bathroom and then I finally let go of your throat and let you hide your face in my neck. You were so vulnerable, so malleable, so hot and wet. 

Perfect.

"Ohhh-God," your urgent cry hit me like an electric shock. "I can...f-feel you so deeply!"

(NSFW art by @somnolenthour!)

"Arh-fuck," I groaned and pulled out of you, only to lift you up and lower you back onto my pulsating shaft. "You love this, don't you? You love...feeling every inch of me...you love when I fuck you...like this..." my thrusting was restless, I could feel my orgasm building in the base of my balls. "...because you...belong to me."

"Patrick...put me down...I'm too heavy," you mumbled suddenly, grabbing my arms. "I don't want...you to get tired."

A loud chuckle rumbled from my chest. "You weigh nothing, Dove," I pecked at your trembling lips and wrapped my hands even tighter around you, fucking you in the air. "Don't...worry about me."

As if the current closeness was not enough, you snuggled into my frame and kissed me with all the strength, desperation and passion you had. This cocktail made me weak in the knees, but I kept going, ramming into you with full force. I wanted to make sure you felt the curve of my dick rubbing against your most sensitive spot as I tried to maintain the best angle for that. 

As I was about to combust from the inside out, I closed my eyes, only to open them again as I realized I was losing my grip on...you. Almost breathless, I blinked several times, still unable to believe that the perfect illusion I had created was dissolving. Frustrated, I leaned against the door, literally on the verge of tears when I heard your voice, the real one.

"I'm sorry, okay?" you rumbled through the closed door. "I'm sorry that...I'm not Courtney or Bethany or whatever hardbody you used to have...I'm sorry, I hit you, it was just an instinctive reaction since my dad used to..." you paused and sighed, I could feel the pain in your intonation. "Just let me out...and…I'll clean your wound. Patty!" 

When you used that nickname, I knew it was on purpose, as if you were trying to reach my soul, hidden under a thick layer of ice and darkness, which became my faceless mask and my burden, a burden I would live with until the last day of my life.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[mgnifiqueyoo]

Book: "Vessel." Pairing: Oh Junseok (ATBO) x Reader 1.4 - "ΚΟΡΟΪΔΙΑ" Word Count: 2,746

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───── ❝ mockery. ❞ ─────

Days passed, which almost made us forget about the last conversation we had.

Well, almost. "Oh, sorry- I'm sorry,” I stammered, stumbling until I found out that I'd carelessly bumped into him again.

Isn't this just the best thing that has ever happened to me? No, not at all. I hate this and I hate that I have to deal with this rather than ignoring it because someone just had to pay attention.

But could I blame him? I couldn't do it wholeheartedly either. He may act like such a prick towards me now but I can't stop seeing the person that he once was. "Oh? So, you do know how to apologize? Congratulations." He was sarcastic, rolling his eyes afterward as I chose to ignore him yet helping him pick up the stack of notebooks he had been carrying. "You don't have to help me. I could do it myself,” He grumbled as I took a pause, later deciding to just let him be.

It wasn't that important for him to remember anyway and I didn't want to be the cause of his annoyance�� again. As both of us got up from the floor, I walked away without saying a word, which made him call my name.

Not in the way he used to, however.

"Hey, Y/N!" I could still hear how irritated he was by just saying my name as I turned around, looking back at him. Junseok walked closer to me, handing me a folder that I apparently owned.

Huh? I don't even remember buying this from the store. "Are you stupid? Don't leave your stuff behind.” He was still smug about it but for some reason, there was still a glimpse of concern on his face but maybe I was just imagining things.

Looking back at the folder, I turned away from Junseok and made my way in the opposite direction. Well, originally, I was planning to head back to the library to take some extra notes from the presentations earlier. Honestly, it was a bit of an inconvenience that all of us had to do this because we weren't allowed to take photos during classes but whatever IST prohibits, we just had no choice but to avoid it.

But as I was walking my way back to the library with my head facing down because of how I decided to read out the contents of the folder, I bumped into someone once again, which just caused all of what I'd been carrying to fall on the ground again for the second fucking time.

"Oh… Sorry,” I spoke out awkwardly but the guy seemed to not care, taking my belongings into his hands as he gave them back to me once again.

"It's okay! I don't mind it… Y/N?" His shoulders were soon raised up as he read my name on the ID card I wore like a long necklace. "That's a pretty name." He complimented me, which only made me smile back. It was the only response I knew to do whenever situations like this happened.

"I'm Yeonjun Choi. Third year." He later introduced himself with an even wider grin, shaking my hand willingly before heading somewhere else as my gaze followed him, intrigued.

"Yeonjun!"

A voice erupted from the end of the hall as I flinched in shock. Facing the other side, I saw a bunch of students, both girls and boys, standing next to each other like a colony of ants as they all rushed immediately toward the third-year university student, leaving me on my own once again.

Huh? That's weird. Why does it feel like this is high school all over again?

"Is it just me or do I find it weird that they're thirsting over the mayor's son?" A familiar voice asked as I turned my head to the side, feeling relieved when I recognized Hyunjun's face. "I mean, am I wrong? I'm pretty sure he's tired of these people following him." He added, squinting his eyes at the view of Yeonjun's little fanclub trying to get a picture of him and honestly, I couldn't agree more with him. Yeonjun must be tired of all the attention he's been getting even if I didn't know him.

As the two of us continued to look for Seunghwan in every hall, we finally saw him come out of the university's gym, still exhausted from all of the recent training.

Well, it turns out he's interested in getting himself on the varsity team, which unfortunately reminds me of that one person that I never thought could break me.

Junseok Oh.

I thought I was finally free of him since he wasn't around the library until he walked into the room confidently as he seemed to be searching for someone.

"Hey, Y/N. Isn't that Junseok?" Seunghwan whispered to my ear with his finger subtly pointing towards the boy he asked about as I shushed him, causing him to look a bit puzzled at what I did. Oh, right. They never knew about the issue between the two of us.

Isn't that just great? No, it isn't.

"Don't be obvious." I panicked, still whispering as I watched how Junseok had already walked around the space below. Thankfully, Hyunjun, Seunghwan, and I were staying on the second floor.

"Oh, are you hiding from him?" The clueless one asked another question once again as I only hummed back, holding my breath in nervousness. I know that this is another consequence of what I did but I just don't want to keep on hearing how much he hates me now. I don't know what made him this way but I have no choice but to accept it.

It's been three years.

I have to move forward.

I felt more terrified to watch the boy climb the stairs, heading towards the second floor as I kept my head down, scribbling on the page of my notebook as fast as I could so that I could leave in no time.

He's going to make me feel miserable and stupid again if he ever sees me.

"Hey," Junseok spoke quietly yet it was loud enough for me to hear him.

"Yes?" Seunghwan unfortunately answered, probably forgetting that I was hiding from the boy.

"Can I borrow her for a bit?"

At that moment, I almost forgot the reason why I was here and my mind began to circle around the desire to leave this goddamn place. "Hey." Even if he said the same word, his tone was a lot different towards me. Still deep yet no hint of interest.

"Come with me,” He continued to speak in that low tone as I looked up from the scribble-filled page of my notebook to see him standing next to me.

"And what do you need me for?" I was both clueless and doubtful of the reason behind his sudden approach since he wanted me out of his sight earlier. But all that he could do in return was cross his arms again just like how he did before, his lips puckered sideways as if he found me disappointing.

"I don't need anyone. I want you to help me out,” Junseok answered truthfully, his snappy attitude finally colliding with his voice and actions.

And honestly, I was going to ask him why I should help him but I think that's just going to let him state a threat in return.

"For what?" I asked another question, wanting to know about his motives.

"My stuff since you like bumping into me that much." Junseok was cruel with his words, taking note of every single stupid thing I did around him as I breathed deeply. I then kept my head up and straightened my posture, nodding once and faking a smile.

"Sure, why not?"

That was my go-to line whenever I knew I had no choice but to agree.

And of course, he didn't even hesitate to head downstairs, expecting me to follow him right away as he turned around and gave me a fiery glare, which was enough for me to understand that I needed to be there… instantly.

So I hugged my notebooks close to me once more, waving my hand at the two boys I sat with before making my way downstairs. It was surprising to see Junseok wait as he always sounded a bit impatient… or maybe he was just like that towards me. I don't know and I probably shouldn't care.

Like, how feelings reciprocate like that, you know? Yeah, that's what I'm doing but I have no idea if I'm doing it right.

"Can you carry heavy things?" Junseok's eyes sparkled as he spoke, looking up at the ceiling while he probably tried figuring it out himself. He's not so far from his past self after all.

"Well, I can but not a lot,” I said back, shrugging as he nodded to himself, still looking somewhere else.

"Cool… Carry this, then,” He replied, later placing a heavy backpack over me and I was forced to hug it tightly.

Expectedly, Junseok started to walk his way out of the library, leaving the door open for me. Thankfully, I was able to fit through the slim doorway, balancing myself in between steps as I followed him. And for a moment, I thought that he genuinely needed me for actual help but that was until he had a chat with his group of friends while I stood there, waiting with an unbelievably heavy backpack in my hands as I could feel how my arms trembled weakly.

"Is that Y/N?" The one who went with the name Rakwon asked as I faked another smile, concealing my growing temper.

I didn’t expect to feel that way; To feel as if I was being pricked by a bunch of toothpicks that failed to draw blood. To feel as if I was stuck in the middle of a lonely road only to find out that I was only five minutes away from my destination. To feel as if I wanted to yell in a silent library.

I was irritated over what he was doing to me right now.

“Hey, Y/N!” Rakwon was completely oblivious to it as I did the same in return, taking a deep breath to contain my anger while I watched how Junseok laughed along with them. He’s no longer himself anymore and to me, it seemed like he enjoyed acting this way. And so, I decided to walk up to them, not distancing myself away anymore as I wanted to make it clear to them that this wasn’t funny.

“... What are you looking at?”

Junseok absolutely knew why I was staring at all of them blankly and I knew he was doing this because of whatever the hell I did last time.

I caused him to freak out but that wasn’t a valid reason for him to treat me like this – like shit. “Next time, don’t fucking bring bricks to class... Thanks.” It was a first for me to make myself sound bitter and cold, which was something that I never thought I’d do towards him.

But I’m sure that won’t do anything. He’s just cruel enough to not care. “Huh? You actually pissed her off,” One of them – well, the pale, short one, whom I didn’t know of – commented right away with sass as I reminded myself not to look back. Why? Because it’d seem as if I just did this to get a reaction just like how Junseok does most of the time.

“I’ll talk her out of it.” He was still as confident as he was, which was unsurprising anymore as I could hear his footsteps following me from behind.

“Do you even know where my room is?” Junseok asked, catching up as I shook my head.

“No, of course. You hadn’t told me.” I still had the same blunt and cold tone in my voice.

I could hear how his regret had gotten to him, which should’ve been there ever since we started “talking”. Does his past self deserve this treatment? No because he had actually shown care before and knew to do what’s right for those who were treated as outcasts but now? That’s all gone. I still don’t know why or how it happened but I guess things really did change since three years ago.

“I live in Room 727- Can you look at me for a bit?” He sounded as if he lacked some patience again, which caused me to take a pause from heading to the dorms as I turned around and faced him just like how he wanted. “Look, Y/N. I guess I’m sorry for how heavy my backpack is but you were willing to help me earlier, weren’t you?”

“You guess you’re sorry? God, you don’t feel real at all.” I chuckled, the bitterness that was once in my voice slowly getting into my head as even the guard who stood before us felt the tension.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you chose to help me… Someone who treats you like shit.” Junseok knew his way with words, wanting to hurt me over a thing I did on the first day of classes.

Maybe this really was his form of revenge. Repetitively hurting me over what I couldn’t do.

As we both noticed how the guard still watched and listened to us, the two of us chose to ignore his perplexed reaction and headed upstairs until we were facing the door of his room.

I angrily pushed his backpack against his chest, seeing how he took it without his overflowing bitchy attitude faltering once. “If you think that you’re worth something, then don’t waste your time around someone like me,” Junseok said before taking a few steps back, clutching his heavy backpack before opening the door behind him. “Again, my apologies.”

He shut the door closed and all I could do was return to my room, blankly staring at the window as I kept the picture of us facing down the desk. Ever since I’ve seen him again, I have been met with two emotions. One is relief because I realized how I was right all along since I’ve been doubtful that he was completely gone.

The second one, however, was regret because now that he’s alive, I must’ve broken him when I didn’t try to find him. Everything felt like a dream that I wanted yet the consequences came with it, too.

And it somehow made me feel as if I deserved to be found lifeless on a random shore.

Maybe I had some importance to him because he felt disappointed in me.

As I spent the rest of the afternoon silently letting my tears fall like the seas that killed the beautiful part of himself, my phone buzzed from the table, which made me turn away from the window view. At first, I wasn’t confident enough to check who could’ve messaged me but after all, I still needed to check messages in case my parents were worrying about how I was doing here.

So I read the text anyway, sighing in relief to find out that it was just Seunghwan – the nice one and of course, Hyunjun’s the other nice one too but this time, it was just him… and he also knew about what happened. He admitted that he watched me struggle to be around Junseok and that he expected that he’d help me out since he concluded that the guy must’ve been also interested in me.

It didn’t take him long enough to know that he wasn’t and that there was more to it, which was the reason why he ended up sitting on the chair next to my desk inside my room.

“I don’t know how to deal with this.” I was frustrated, aware that his old self was just an illusion for me to treasure – a memory for me to love as the boy nodded eagerly, listening closely to every word I said.

“Look, maybe it’s best for you to just let him go and just move forward.”

Was it?

[medicus-mortem]

   Luffy’s responses manage to anger and exhaust Law in equal measure.

   Saying he did his best, that he tried and that’s enough, just does not cut it for Trafalgar Law. Then that bit about needing all kinds of people to live? No, fuck that. Fuck any concept of Law just accepting when he’s not strong enough, when he’s weak or can’t achieve his goals. Fuck any suggestion that being less than what he needs to be to protect his family, to do everything he set out to do, is enough. He is the Surgeon of Death, the captain of the Heart Pirates, and that comes with certain expectations he is supposed to meet. He didn’t meet any of them on Dressrosa.

   “You don’t fucking get it,” Law snarls, getting the anger out before he lets anything else drag him down. “Tryin’ my best isn’t good enough. I am meant to be better than that, stronger. I am the captain of my crew. I am the one who protects them, who keeps them safe. How the fuck am I supposed to do that if I can’t even kill my own monster, huh? How the fuck are they supposed to believe in me now?”

   Then with a breath, heavy and weighted by everything he’s been through, Law drops onto the seat around the Sunny’s main mast. The doctor closes his eyes, hands rising to cover his face. He leans forwards, elbows resting on knees. There comes a low groan, fingers digging into his scalp. Why is it so fucking hard to talk to this kid? Somehow, he can’t believe Luffy will every truly understand how Law thinks and frankly Law doesn’t think he’ll understand how Luffy thinks either. How the hell can he even suggest breaking into Impel Down so simply? Even after his own attempt to save his brother failed as it did.

   “I … I don’t have the energy for that,” he murmurs, just the thought of breaking into that prison to kill Doflamingo makes Law feel tired. He’s dedicated so much energy, so much of himself to this revenge, this path. He doesn’t have anything more to give. “I’m worn down and just … fuck, I’m tired.”

   Head turns to look at Straw Hat, to see his further confusion. Law’s mouth twists in anger and irritation with that stupid nickname. Luffy can’t seem to see how his actions feel like disrespect. It’s not just the nickname. It’s the refusal to ask his opinion when he makes a decision that impacts both crews. It’s the way the kid ignores him whenever Law tries to propose a better idea than just throwing himself into the fight. Law’s beginning to know it’s just how the kid is but it certainly doesn’t make this alliance easy for Law.

   “How ‘bout you start with actually learnin’ my name, yeah? Real fuckin’ sick of hearing that nickname.”

Luffy allows the tense silence, eyes never leaving Law as he collects his thoughts. This had to be more serious than he thought if the surgeon didn’t dismiss him with a growl or huff; he’d just figured that was Law and his innate sense to read people has never led him wrong before.

“Thirteen years.” It’s quiet, to himself impressed someone could plan something so far in advance let alone stick to it. Yes, he knew it was important to Law but a single plot to dethrone one man is nearly obsessive. It’s in Law’s nature, he’s a control freak after all but Luffy listens quietly. “Cause you couldn’t beat him yerself?” Luffy’s never had a boogeyman; maybe his mind isn’t vast enough for fear to color every thought like Law or he’s too stupid to be afraid at all.

“You tried though.” A shrug. “ ‘S all  that matters, sometimes our best isn’t good enough, why everyone needs different kinds of people to live.” Luffy can’t cook or navigate or heal people, all he’s ever been good at is punching and even then it took years to master that only for his family to be spread all over the world because he wasn’t strong enough. “Yer still smart,” he offers with a smile. “Smarter than me fer sure and if you want Mingo dead, let's kill him. Been to Impel down before, shouldn’t be that hard to break back in.” Voice takes on its cheery ease. What’s breaking into the world’s most dangerous prison again. If anything it should be easier than last time— not that Luffy remembered his way around the fortress but down is an easy direction to go. 

“An equal?” Surprise jerks his eyebrows up then down. “What?!” A squawk as hand palms at the back of his head, fingers combing through dark hair in exasperation. “Ion really think like that?” He finally says, folding his arms over his chest. “ Yer you and ‘m me. Yer my friend well— I want you to be.” Knows he can be a bit much but making himself smaller for another isn’t in his nature either. "Dunno what got Tora-o thinking like this? Why do ya think I agreed to the alliance?" Law has something Luffy doesn't, a talent, a skill the rubberman couldn't dream of; Law's interesting, insightful, determined, compassionate, a long list of qualities Luffy can't help but admire. Maybe it's something he said or didn't say? Knows the name of his sword, of his ship and most of the names of his crew. Or perhaps it's a North Blue East Blue thing?

Given a moment to think he can't find fault in either of their actions but his posture's relaxed from curious trepidation to puzzled concern.

[hmmm-shesucks]

Snippets from stories I will never finish writing part one

Stiles stumbled through the trees into a small open clearing, a bottle of cheap wine clamped tightly in his hand as he swayed to phantom music. He sloppily waltzed by himself, spinning in half circles and giggling when he tripped. A twig snapping caught his attention, and he turned to face the opposite end of the clearing, a large, sarcastic smile forming on his lips.

"Oh, look who it is. The husband-to-be!" He stretched his arms wide as he called into the quiet forest air, head tilted back as if he were celebrated.

"Stiles, please." Derek looked tired and exasperated. It both irritated and irked Stiles to see.

"Coming to let his mistress off the hook. Two years down the drain all for some bitch he just met!" He jostled the bottle of wine, spilling it before taking a large gulp. He wiped his chin and almost fell over a jagged stump before catching himself on a tree.

"Stiles, you're being a child." Derek was using that voice he'd used to talk to Stiles in before they'd started dating or whatever. It pissed Stiles off.

"Of course I am! That's all I'll ever be to you, right? Unless you want sex, of course. Then I'm old enough to make my own choices."

"Stiles," Derek's voice was a little more firm now like he was going to get Stiles in trouble. Stiles hated it.

"Did you even tell them? Huh! I know the rules, Derek. I know these arrangements can be void if you've already found someone else! So did you tell them?!"

The silence that followed broke Stiles's heart and fueled his ever-growing rage at the man in front of him.

"I'm so fucking stupid!" Stiles let go of the wine bottle, sending it flying toward the trees, shattering.

"Stiles," Derek now sounded more concerned and panicked. Stiles couldn't believe how good Derek was getting with emotions.

"No! Of course, you didn't tell them. You're too big a fucking coward!"

"Stiles!" Angry this time.

"Stiles! Stiles! Stiles! What Derek? Is that all you can say! After two years of leading me on, letting me believe I meant at least a little bit to you, that's all you have to say!"

"No! I- Stiles, I can't, I don't want-" Derek looked flustered, angry, and utterly exhausted. Stiles probably would have been worried if he'd been sober enough to feel more than one emotion at a time.

"What? What! You don't want what? For them to know about me? That I'm a guy? That I'm your baby sister's age? That you love me? Or, maybe not that last bit because that was a clear fucking lie on your part!"

"I wasn't lying!" Derek shouted.

"Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it!" Stiles couldn't stop his voice from cracking as he started to cry. He hadn't let himself cry over this yet. Crying made it too real. It must be real now.

"Stiles," Derek seemed to want to cry, too. He was always better and holding himself together, though.

"Why did you come here, Derek? If it was to formally end things, then don't bother. I got the message loud and clear! In fact, half of Beacon Hills found out with me when your mother announced it to the ENTIER INNER CIRCLE!" Stiles tried to catch his breath, but it was trapped in the back of his throat. His hands started shaking.

"I was going to tell you. I didn't know she was going to do that. I hadn't even excepted the proposal yet." Derek stupidly thought this bit of information would help calm Stiles down. He was wrong.

"You should have told me when I asked the first time! You lied to me, Derek. You told me she wasn't here for you and that I had nothing to worry about. You fucking lied! About everything!"

"Not everything! Stiles, I meant every word I said to you. I never lied about any of that. I love you. I would never lie about that." Derek tried to move forward, but Stiles quickly stepped back. There was no way he was going to let Derek touch him. He knew he'd give in, and Stiles couldn't do that.

"But. You would never lie about that, but. You did, Derek. You lied. You told me you loved me straight to my face and made me believe it!" Derek reached for him again, but Stiles slapped his hand away, anger burning in his eyes.

"No! Do not touch me! Don't come near me! If you aren't going to say it, fine, I will. This is over! Don't call me, don't text me, don't ask about me! Just leave me the hell alone, Derek!" Stiles was full-on sobbing now, his whole body shaking with their force.

"If you care about me, even a little bit, you will stay away. Forever. Please." Stiles pleaded.

It's silent. Derek stares at Stiles like he's waiting for him to take it back. Stiles doesn't.

"If that's what you want." It was over. Derek wasn't even fighting him. It shocked him so much he'd even stopped crying.

"It will never be what I want. It's just the only choice you've given me." If Derek was going to hurt him, Stiles would give him the same hurt in return. So this was all Derek's fault.

"Goodbye, Stiles." Derek turned and, within seconds, disappeared into the trees.

Stiles gave it almost a full minute before he collapsed onto the ground. He curled his knees to his chest and subtly rocked himself in a poor attempt to self-soothe. His chest and back ached, and his neck felt tight with the strain of crying. His head felt ready to explode, and he couldn't breathe.

The last thought Stiles had before he passed out against a tree was how pathetic it was to die, crying in the middle of the woods due to heartbreak.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language and violence Warnings: Choking (kinda) Summary: Local feral human makes a friend, tries to sleep next to local mean vampire, then gets a taste of their own medicine Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!

3: Haunt Me Dearly

What a lovely crimson mess I’ve made, you think, watching as the last of the bloody water drained from the bathtub. There were still several splashes of red along the sides, where you had leaned on or otherwise touched. Frowning, you considered whether or not to clean up after yourself. Surely it wouldn’t be one of your captors doing the cleaning? In that case, you think, I don’t want to make any enemies out of the servants. First you had to finish binding your wounds. Wouldn’t want to risk getting them dirty so soon after washing them, after all. Except you weren’t even sure that you could properly wrap them on your own, considering the positioning of your injuries.

“Ah, fucking hell…” You muttered, scowling a little. Then you remembered that Cassandra had sent a maid to wait outside the bathroom for you. Maybe they could help? Nodding to yourself, you threw on your new undergarments and pair of trousers, deciding to save the shoes for later. Once you were ‘decent’, you slowly opened the door, peeking out from behind it. Before long you were making eye contact with an unfamiliar woman, who looked very confused. “Any chance you could help me bandage my shoulder? I can’t do it without help, and something tells me Cassandra’s not going to lend me a hand.” With that said, you gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make up for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Of course! It is my honor to serve a guest of my Lady,” the maid- servant, maybe- said, giving a short curtsy. Admittedly you’re a little confused by her response. Still, you gladly welcome her assistance, moving back into the bathroom to grab the gauze. Although you intend to do as much as you can on your own, the woman is quick to take over completely. “Please, allow me,” she continued, carefully beginning to wrap your wounds.

“Are all the workers here so polite? I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoys working here, all things considered,” you mused, squinting at the middle distance. At that, the servant tenses up, clearly not expecting you to speak ill of her employers. Well, she had called you a guest. “Don’t be surprised, friend. Less than an hour ago I was fit to be consumed by ‘your Lady Cassandra’. Only reason I’m not dead right now is because of a stupid blood bond,” you explained, tone dripping with irritation. This time the servant doesn’t flinch at all, instead nodding slowly, taking a moment to let your words sink in. During this pause, you decide to introduce yourself, just in case the two of you might see each other frequently.

“I… see. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, no matter the circumstances of your presence here. You can call me Daphne, though I must warn you that I am not one for, ahem, gossip about my masters,” she replied, finishing her binding of your shoulder wound. Next she searched through the cabinet by the sink, looking for a medicinal salve of some sort. Once she found it she was right back to work. The substance stung a tad on your skin, but you could hardly complain, seeing as it would help fight off possible infections.

“You sure about no gossip? What if we call it ‘helping me get acclimated to my new situation’? I’m a fish outta water here, Daphne,” you suggested, turning your head to look her in the eyes. At first she ignored you, focusing on rubbing the medicine into your skin. Eventually she meets your gaze, briefly, and releases a quiet sigh.

“You are free to ask questions-” you start to celebrate, though not for long- “just as I am free to withhold answers. Though I may be more responsive if you can tell me one thing… Why was Lady Cassandra’s dress wet?” Daphne asked, making you freeze in place. Of course she wanted the one answer you didn’t feel confident about giving. She’s quick to notice this, though, and laughs to herself. “Well, I suppose some things must remain a mystery. Now let’s get your face cleaned up…”

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

By the time you make it to Cassandra’s room, the sun is starting to rise, leaking in through the castle windows. Exhaustion weighs you down, making you want to fall immediately into the nearest bed. As it stands, that was none other than your soulmate’s, though it was currently occupied. For a moment you hover in her doorway, contemplating whether or not you should steal her blanket. Floor can’t be too bad, you think, right? Before you can decide you notice Cassandra stirring from her sleep.

“What took you so fucking long?” She asked groggily. Now she’s sitting up, blanket clinging loosely to her body, and you realize that she’s not wearing a shirt. Though a blush rishes up your cheeks, you’re certain it’s too dark for Cassandra to notice. Or at least you hope so. Wanting to think about something other than what she was (or was not) wearing, you focus your energy on responding.

“Isn’t it obvious? I got invited to a sick orgy on the way back, and I wasn’t about to turn that down, so…” You trailed off, gesturing idly with your hands. The movement stretches your shoulder more than you’d like, resulting in an ache that lasts several seconds. It distracts you to the point where you almost can’t catch the object Cassandra promptly throws at you. “What the hell…?” It’s a shoe, as far as you can tell, that definitely would have hurt, had it hit its intended target. “Such a lovely gift, babe. I will treasure it for the rest of my days, forever keeping it as a reminder that you-” your tone shifts from a false joy to deadpan- “are a piece of shit. Now, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep? Is there a walk-in closet I can camp in? Or do I get the bed, while you sleep in a fucking coffin or something?”

Before Cassandra has a chance to respond, you’re walking further into her room, wanting to take a quick look around. There’s a large dresser that you quickly toss her shoe inside, as well as a window sill with a built-in reading nook. Trading your tiredness for sheer dickery, you throw open the curtains, letting the light pour in (and nearly blind you in the process). Half of you expects your soulmate to screech in response. Maybe even turn to ash. Instead, you hear her moving, and you turn to find her laying back down, facing away from you.

“When you’re done fucking around, come over here and sleep. I will knock you out if I have to,” Cassandra muttered, still sounding half asleep. As much as you wanted to know if she’d go through with her threat, you are exhausted. Begrudgingly you approach the bed. It’s certainly large enough for two people, even having enough room for you to be completely separate from each other. When you start to climb in, you find yourself overwhelmed for a moment, surprised at the quality of the sheet fabric. Exactly how rich were these vampiric assholes? This room alone seemed to be worth more than you had ever known.

This was, perhaps, the one bright side to your situation: A comfortable state of existence. Well, as comfortable as one could get in a place like this. So lovely on the outside, a muse worthy of a thousand artists, yet hiding far darker horrors within… much like the woman you now found yourself laying beside. Why me? Why her? What could possibly bring the two of us together, you think, other than a cruel fate? There’s a pain in your chest, dishearteningly similar to heartache. Damning the universe, and your blood bond, and yourself, you think ‘fuck it’ before sliding closer to Cassandra. One arm drapes itself over her waist, while you slowly lean your head against her back.

In an instant she’s tense, not even breathing, waiting for you to reveal whatever trick hid up your sleeve. But no trick comes, just your hand meeting hers, squeezing softly. Suddenly the tension is gone. None remains, not even lingering in the air, and the two of you soon drift off to sleep...

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

Shaking, body made a wreck through tremors, tears staining her cheeks. Breathing comes hard, each shift of her lungs bringing with it a mighty ache. Someone’s holding her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, fingers tracing circles against her back. But she’s lost in her dream, eyes clenched shut. Visions flash before her gaze like lightning in a storm. There’s no time to process, no opportunity to prepare for the thunder that follows. Every strike is a punch to the gut she can’t ignore. When release finally comes, it is not a gentle kiss to her forehead, or a reassuring hand on her own, but rather an intense surge of pain that jolts her awake.

Cassandra nearly screams as she sits up, hands reflexively going to hold her head. One of them stings, bad, and she notices what look like bite marks on the side. For a moment her confusion acts as a welcome distraction. Then she’s looking next to her, and the puzzle practically puts itself together. There you are, one hand in your mouth, an eyebrow raised as you stare at her. Ignoring the lingering memories of her dream, she turns all of her rage towards you. Quickly she grabs ahold of your arm, forcefully yanking your hand out of your mouth, even though it makes your teeth dig in a little deeper. It takes more willpower than she wants to admit to stop herself from strangling you right then and there.

“I didn’t know monsters could even have nightmares,” you taunted. Before you know what’s happening, Cassandra is lunging towards you, pressing her forearm against your throat. There’s just enough pressure to make talking difficult. Both of her yellow eyes are filled with hatred, aimed right at you, but you can’t help but laugh. “Ya know, I did try to wake you up nicely. I should have known you only respond to violence. Next time, though, I’ll remember to stay a safe distance away.”

“You don’t know anything, dipshit. Anyone else would know better than to spout so much fucking ignorance, but nobody taught you how to behave, huh?” Cassandra growled, applying more pressure with her arm, leaving you unable to reply (for once). “You’re a goddamn mutt, aren’t you? Thrown to the street like the garbage you are, left to live in the gutter, feeding off of trash like a fucking cannibal. You should be honored to be allowed anywhere near me. You should be worshiping me, for fuck’s sake!” Black dots form in your vision, a dark halo edging into the corners of your eyes, as your lungs beg for air. But you’re grinning. You’re showing your teeth, bright and proud, knowing full well that you have won this round. As soon as realization dawns on Cassandra’s face she’s pulling herself off of you.

Still, you are left gasping, clutching at your neck as she hurriedly gets dressed for the day. By the time you can see properly again, she’s left without another word. Even as she stalks down the corridor, eagerly rushing away from you, she hears your laughter howling through the castle. It digs into her brain, taunting her. Soon enough you’ll stop, light headed, but she will still hear it echoing inside her mind. You’ll haunt her just as much as her wicked dreams. Hopefully more.

[hypnomicimagines]

Trust [Vampire!Aohitsugi Samatoki]

“If you’re so hungry, why don’t you just take a bite of me?”

There was a certain type of aggression that vampires liked in their mates, human or otherwise, that pulled them in. Being teased with double-entendres seemed to be one of those necessities, knowing their partner wasn’t afraid of them seemed important, or at least it was to Samatoki. He might appear to be irritable but ever since you’d offered up your blood to him in a time of need, the vampire had done all that he could to make you comfortable with him. It helped that your relationship was already flirtatious but the trust that was built from allowing him to feed, on both of your parts, was what fully cemented you as Samatoki’s ‘one’.

You liked to tease him to the point Samatoki wondered if you really did get off to him biting you, not that the sensation was ever an unpleasant one. It left you feeling more sensitive than usual after the initial burning in the newly opened wound stopped, his tongue running over the new holes in your skin in appreciation. They always healed up beautifully but he liked that if he looked hard enough, he could see the tiny scars left behind. It marked you as belonging to a vampire, belonging to him, and your neck would be the first place any other vampire looked before attempting to take you as their own.

“What about right here?” Your finger traced along your thigh, watching with amusement as Samatoki’s eyes carefully followed your finger. He had never had a partner as explorative as you, who was so willing to mark their body in every place they possibly could. “If you’re really hungry we can just do my wrist since I know it’s one of the best spots, but…”

Your burning desire matched his own and one cold hand rested on your thigh, moving it away from your other so he could get between your legs. He liked the look of anticipation, how you were ready for both the pain and pleasure he was about to bring you. He kneaded the soft skin, sucking the area without puncturing before grazing his teeth as a warning. You reached down to grab his hand and his fingers laced with yours, squeezing as he broke through your skin and allowed your sweet blood to run over his tongue. You were only a little noise, letting out a little whimper at first before the only thing he could hear was your erratic breathing, your eyes squeezed shut and his hand released as you laid back on your pillow.

“…Thanks for the food.” He knew you thought it was just some stupid gimmick on his part but each time he drank from you he thanked you, even checking in to make sure you weren’t suffering any symptoms of blood loss.

At first, he hardly drank enough to even quench his thirst because he was so paranoid about hurting you, there had even been a time where he was on the brink of death and you appeared that he had almost drank you dry, the very thought that he could’ve killed you had him considering starving himself in repentance. That time had come and gone but it felt seared into Samatoki’s brain, a reminder that he needed to be careful with his thirst or you would be facing the consequences of trusting a terrible creature like him.

“You’re welcome.” Your smile is warm as you ushered him up, Samatoki licking the blood clean from his fangs before he obeyed your wishes. You were so beautiful and warm, he hadn’t felt a warmth like that in centuries, and he found himself just as addicted to this feeling as you were to his bites. He was hopeless when it came to you, resting his cheek against your chest as he listened to the sound of your beating heart.

Calm.

You trusted him.

You trusted him so much more than he trusted himself.

How could Samatoki ever thank you for all that you had done? How could he repay your kindness? How could he apologize for almost sending you to an early grave? Your relationship had gotten rocky but even so, you had stuck by his side, showed him a loyalty that few vampires received from non-vampire partners. Having a boyfriend like him used to be a trend, all the humans and other species alike wanting to show off their century old partner who dressed like they belonged in another era, but you had never been that way.

No, you had been content to stay inside and keep him company during the daylight hours.

Trust.

He trusted you too, didn’t he?

He had told you all about vampires, about some of their weakness, but not without some apprehension on his part. Samatoki had been worried about an enemy clan moving in on his territory, it had been the only reason he brought the subject up, but he realized all those methods applied to him as well. Would he be able to raise a hand to you if you came at him with a stake? With fire? One day you could simply decide to rise, open the curtains in his apartment, and permanently take him out of this world.

When he mentioned that last fought you responded with a confused, “Why does a vampire live in a place that has windows anyway?”

Samatoki had laughed.

It was hard to make him laugh.

As he laid in bed beside you now, listening to your heart, soaking in your warmth, breathing in all the things that made you so beautifully mortal, he wondered how long this would last.

“Stop thinking your angsty vampire thoughts, ‘Toki. You know I always just thought that was something they put in books, that whole broody vampire stereotype, and now I see those authors must’ve been very intimate with you cynical vamps.” He scoffed at your observation, wanting to tell you that all the fiction was practically bullshit and that anyone attempting to publish actual accurate knowledge on vampires would be killed on the spot, but he saved his speech.

You’d already heard it before.

“Are you gonna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“Not tonight. Don’t you have to sleep for work?”

“Ugh.” You seemed disappointed at the reminder and he couldn’t blame you, he didn’t exactly what to leave this position either. “You’re right but it’s more fun to be with you at night. You have more energy.”

His brooding thoughts hadn’t left him quite in the mood to have sex however he had no qualms about taking care of your needs. He leaned up to capture your lips in a possessive kiss, teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands slid down your body. He felt you unintentionally tense under his cold touch as his slipped past your panties and he smirked, nipping at your ear and asking if you were even ready for his fingers let alone his dick. You nodded your head, turning to look at him with a stubborn pout, he loved when you looked at him like that.

Inside of you is even warmer than outside, a fact he thought about often while you were being intimate. It was almost like being burned with fire but a far more pleasant sensation once he was used to it. He knew his body temperature never changed but he always felt like he broke out into a sweat when he was inside you, like your warmth was somehow infectious even though it couldn’t be the case. He liked that feeling, it almost felt like he was human again, and being with you made any potential terrible thing just so much better.

“S-Samatoki,” You gasped out, his fingers carefully moving inside you, “If you keep being so rough I…”

“I told you to get to bed, didn’t I?” Samatoki kissed your neck and you moved your head to the side, a jolt of pleasure running through your body as you remembered the sensation of his bite. “We’re gonna make it quick so you can get some damn sleep, brat.”

“Me a brat?” You cried out again as he started to rub your clit, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers. “Have you seen how… How you act? When you don’t get your way…!”

“I always get my way.” Samatoki’s voice is akin to a growl, “Do I need to remind you what I am?”

“The love of my life?” You asked playfully, and while he had been setting a certain type of mood… He can’t say that didn’t resonate with him. He can’t say that didn’t go straight to his dick, twitching eagerly in his pants, now wanting to answer the calls of your moans. “W-Why’d you stop?”

“I’m going to fuck you into this mattress.” You’re surprised at the sudden mood swing as Samatoki removed his hand from your pants, now looming on top of you with a dark look in his eye. “You’ll be lucky if you can fuckin’ make it to work tomorrow.”

He could hurt you like that. He could break you if he’s too rough, exhaust you with his immense stamina to the point you can hardly move, yet you knew he’d treat you as delicately as he ever did. His thrusts would be desperate and his fangs would constantly graze your skin, ready to puncture the second he wanted to without you having any say in it, yet you knew he would never do that. You knew he’d never drink from you without permission. You knew he’d never hurt you, that the intimacy of having sex was something that meant a great deal to Samatoki.

You trusted him.

And he would never break that trust.

[thatfanficstuff]

Absent-Minded Kisses - Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Minors DNI. Smut, including but not limited to: unprotected sex, locker rooms, excessive usage of Fuck

A/N: Celebration Summer #17. Combined two requests for this one. One was Sleepy early morning kisses and the other is the two prompts in bold. I kind of love this one. Enjoy!

wc: 2037

***

It was so early. So, so early. You weren’t even certain why you were up other than you didn’t like your best friends heading out on mission without you there to say goodbye. That, and you knew neither of them would bother to eat if you didn’t feed them. Which is how you ended up at a table with Bucky and Steve watching them eat in silence while you sipped at your coffee.

You noticed that for once, they both seemed to be just as exhausted as you. Normally, they were bright-eyed and making fun of you for lagging behind. Not that they’d do that when you got up oh-god-it’s-early just to feed them.

Steve leaned back in his seat with a sigh. “Thanks for feeding us. Remember, we’re going dark as soon as we leave the tower. You won’t hear from us unless there’s a problem until we’re on our way back.”

You nodded in acknowledgement. You didn’t like it, but you understood.

Steve stood and finished off his coffee. He put the mug down and glanced at Bucky. “We’ve got to go, Buck.” He left without waiting for a response, patting your shoulder on the way by.

Bucky nodded as he finished shoveling his eggs into his mouth. He washed them down with his coffee then stood. He smiled down at you. “Thanks for taking care of us, doll.”

You returned the smile. “It’s not a problem, Bucky. Be careful.”

He braced one hand on the back of your chair and the other on the table as he leaned over you. “Always am, sweetheart.”

“Buck, come on!” Steve hollered from down the hall, making you laugh. It was like this every mission.

Bucky shook his head with a roll of his eyes. Leaning forward, he pressed a firm but swift kiss to your lips before hurrying after his best friend. “See you in a week,” he yelled over his shoulder as he went.

You hadn’t moved since Bucky’s lips had left yours. That wasn’t the kind of relationship you two had. You were friends. That’s it. Not that you hadn’t wished for more on occasion, but you’d never dare make a move. But he’d kissed you. Kissed you like it was nothing. You took a deep breath. It probably was nothing to him. Just a tired thank you. An absent-minded gesture.

You ran a hand down your tired face as you stood to clear away the plates. “Damnit, Barnes,” you muttered to yourself as you over thought every interaction the two of you had ever had.

***

“You okay?” Steve asked as he kicked the side of Bucky’s foot.

The brunet’s head jerked up, his brow furrowed. “I feel like I forgot something important, but I can’t think of what it might be.”

Steve shrugged. “It can’t be that important then. Quit stressing.”

Bucky nodded absently, his mind running over everything he’d done as he prepared to leave that morning. Suddenly, he froze and bolted upright. “Oh no. Shit.”

“What?” Steve asked, his friend’s tension affecting his own stance.

Bucky simply stared at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Steve. What did I do?”

“I don’t know, Bucky, what did you do?” Cap asked, feeling slightly amused.

“I kissed Y/N.”

His brow lifted in surprise. When did this happen? And why did it take Buck so long to remember? What the hell happened after he left the table? “You did?”

Buck hopped to his feet and started pacing. “What if she didn’t like it? What if she did? What if she’s pissed? What if—”

“Bucky,” Steve said louder than necessary. “Calm down. There’s nothing you can do about it until we get home.”

***

The week passed slowly as you waited for Bucky to come home. That stupid, simple kiss was tearing you up inside. Obviously, it was just a friend thing, right? Like, he was just moving your friendship to the next level. He’d kissed the top of your head or your forehead before. This was no different, right? But what if it was?

And it was that what if that had you in the gym working on the punching bag. Because the truth was, you very much wanted it to mean more than friendship. That, even though he was tired, he’d done it because he thought about kissing you all the time. You were terrified that he wouldn’t bring it up. Even more terrified that he would, only to assure you that it meant nothing.

Ugh. Stupid, super soldier. You released a series of punches and kicks on the bag trying to work out your irritation. Finally, you stepped back, panting as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Who pissed you off, sweetheart?” that honey rich voice came from behind you and you spun to find Bucky watching you with his arms crossed over his chest.

You smiled seeing him safe and whole and some of the tension in your chest eased. Without thought, you moved to him and hugged him. “Glad you’re back,” you told him as you stepped away. “Steve okay?”

He nodded and rubbed and hand across the back of his neck. “Yeah, he’s good.” He looked at you then down at the floor. “Listen…”

He trailed off and his cheeks flushed. You tilted your head and waited for him to continue. He sighed and his shoulders slumped forward. “I’m sorry about the kiss. I was tired and wasn’t thinking.”

Your heart shriveled just a bit with his words, but you really hadn’t expected any different. You tried your best to keep the smile on your face. “Don’t worry about it, Buck. It’s fine.”

His eyes ran over your face, probably trying to see if you were telling the truth. You gestured over your shoulder toward the locker rooms. “I’m going to hit the shower. I’ll see you later.”

Just as you turned away from him, a hand fell on your arm, stopping you. You turned slightly to look at him again. Those deep blue eyes seemed to see right through you. “Did you…did you want me to kiss you?”

He was worried about hurting you. You gave him a soft smile as your heart twinged then you repeated your earlier words. “Don’t worry about it, Buck. It’s fine.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up and he pulled you toward him. “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?” A moment later his lips found yours. This time you took the opportunity to savor it. His lips were soft but earnest as they moved against yours. His metal arm slipped around your waist to hold you close to him. His other hand threaded into your hair to hold your head in place. His tongue slipped into your mouth pulling a moan from you.

Finally. You leaned back just far enough to breathe. “Damn, Bucky.”

He gave you that grin that never failed to make you smile. It was infectious. He leaned forward and kissed you again. A firm but swift kiss that mirrored the first one he’d given you. “Missed you.”

You hummed in agreement as you fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him back to you for another kiss. This time it was hot. Needy. Wanting. Bucky’s lips moved from yours to run along the line of your jaw, talking as he went. “Thought about you every day. Worried I fucked up. Drove Steve fucking nuts talking about you.” His lips traced the column of your throat before he licked his way back up to your ear. He tugged the lobe into his mouth to scrape it with his teeth. “Pissed at myself for not giving you the kiss you deserved.”

You whimpered. There was absolutely no other word you could give the sound that came from your mouth. Bucky groaned in response and squeezed your thighs. “Jump, baby.” You obeyed and he lifted so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He moved you across the gym and into the women’s locker room. He sat you down only long enough to strip your leggings from you, your panties following immediately after. A second later your legs were wrapped back around him as he backed you into a wall.

The cold tile did little to soothe your heated skin. Bucky’s fingers slid through your folds as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Jesus, sweetheart. You’re killing me here.”

You tugged at his hair and he hissed. Those blue eyes narrowed in warning and you tugged again. His lips found yours again, feeding, begging. Two fingers slid into your core and he curled them. You rocked against him and let out a half scream as he found that perfect spot. His mouth moved to your throat where he bit and sucked, marking you as his as he fucked you with his fingers. “Fuck, Bucky. I have never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

He pulled his fingers from you and fumbled with his pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Finally, he freed his heavy cock from the confines of his uniform. Lowering the two of you onto the nearby bench, his hands wrapped around your waist to lift you up and positioned himself at your opening. “Tell me you want this, baby.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders to help balance yourself. You looked deep into his eyes and said, “Barnes, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will shoot you.”

He laughed and slammed himself into you with no further warning. You gripped his shoulders and arched your back. He was long and thick and it had been awhile for you. Your pussy ached where he stretched and filled you beyond anything you’d felt before. And god, did it feel good. You rocked against him to tell him you were ready and he immediately began to pump in and out of you.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. That knot was already tightening, preparing to bring you a wave of ecstasy. Your hold on Bucky tightened as he hammered into you. This wasn’t love making, it was just a good old-fashioned fucking. This was the release of the tension that had been building between the two of you from the moment you met.

Bucky hissed. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you need me. Soak my cock, baby.” His thumb found your clit and flicked over it as he spoke. The combination of the two was enough to push you over the edge. As your pussy clenched around his cock, he followed you over the peak.

You were both panting as you dropped your head onto his shoulder. He was still buried inside of you, but you weren’t inclined to move at the moment. Too happy. Too content. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “That was fucking amazing,” he said drawing a laugh from you. You leaned back to look at him and his hands settled on your hips to hold you steady. His thumbs rubbed on the bare skin he found beneath your top.

Looking down, you realized he was still fully clothed. “Well, this hardly seems fair.”

And there was that grin again before he kissed you slow and sweet. “What do you say, we move this to your bedroom and we’ll both get naked this time?”

***

The next morning you stirred, shifting on your sheets as you tried to figure out what had woken you. You smiled as you felt the soft kisses trailing up the length of your spine. Letting out a moan of contentment, you turned to see your soldier. He held himself over you and mirrored your smile. You laid a hand along the side of his face, feeling his early morning stubble. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey.” He leaned down to kiss you in a sweet good morning. Pulling away, he kissed the tip of your nose then pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you, sweetheart. Have for a while.”

“I love you, too, soldier.” You hooked a leg around him and shifted your position so you he was under you and you were straddling his hips. “Let me show you how much.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Trick or Treat

The next A Very Bouncey Halloween installment and a belated birthday gift to my darling @veritasrose. Thank you so much for the last year of friendship, I look forward to celebrating with you again. <3 you are much loved.

tw: curses, Geralt is an idiot, competent Jaskier

---

Light flashes through the room and momentarily blinds Jaskier, who stumbles back against Geralt. He mumbles an apology to the ever-sturdy Witcher as he waits for his vision to return and when he blinks clearly for the first time after a few long moments, the bard feels utterly and totally confused by the scene unfolding before him.

The Duke’s grandest ballroom, which had been bustling with excitable party guests only moments ago, is now flooded with ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and monsters of all sorts. A woman with swan’s wings is huddled in one corner, squawking angrily at anyone who tries to draw near. A minotaur stumbles through the center of the dance floor, lowing in frustration as he tries to control his bulky limbs. Two werewolves wrestle for dominance atop the furthest banquet table to their left. As Jaskier takes it all in, he feels Geralt’s hands wrap suddenly around his bicep; the Witcher is clinging to Jaskier fiercely, leaning his not insignificant weight against the bard’s side as his eyes grow round and watery.

“What’s happening?” Geralt finally asks. His tone of voice seems breathy and high, filled with a terror - almost totally foreign to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt fears nothing and yet… “Let’s get away from this dreadful place, please!”

“Aren’t you going to try and solve this problem?” Jaskier asks, glancing at his companion. He gestures at the various monsters roaming freely past the buffet table. “You’re likely the nearest Witcher, after all.”

“I’m no Witcher,” Geralt declares. He splays a hand over the very center of his blue velvet doublet (a nearly perfect imitation of the way Jaskier reacts to a perceived offense). “I am a Count. Witchers are dirty things, not meant for such a public life as my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, now is not the time for a prank of this nature,” Jaskier huffs. “Something is clearly going on here. We need to help these people!”

“I know something is wrong,” Geralt sniffles - fucking sniffles - and squeezes the bard’s upper arm even more tightly. The sound of Geralt crying shakes Jaskier into understanding, even as Geralt begs: “But I don’t know how to help! Please get me out of here, Milord, I’m scared.”

Milord? Jaskier mouths to himself, even as he wraps one comforting arm around Geralt’s waist and ushers him away from the growing chaos at the center of the ballroom. Jaskier hurries them down one suspiciously empty hallway after another until he reaches the small suite that he had accepted as payment for his performance at the party. Jaskier ushers Geralt inside and locks the heavy oak door behind them.

“My Lord Geralt,” he gets the not-quite-Witcher’s attention. “Do you mind taking a seat by the fire for now? I’ll be right with you as soon as the room is secure, and then we can figure out what’s going on and what to do from here.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nods. He hurries to comply with Jaskier’s request, to the bard’s continuing shock and awe, and stays still and quiet as Jaskier removes his doublet and rolls up his sleeves. Using the strength he’s spent twelve years at Geralt’s side developing, Jaskier shoves a bookcase, a dresser, and an unfortunately designed roll-top desk in front of the locked doors for added protection.

Moving behind Geralt with practiced efficiency, Jaskier also closes, shutters, and locks every window in the room, pulling the curtains closed to keep any light from spilling out and alerting stray creatures of their presence.

When he’s finished locking down all of their room’s possible entrances and breathing hard from exertion, Jaskier tugs the Witcher’s xenovox from his bag and flips it open, waiting with bated breath until Yennefer’s irritated voice snaps: “What do you want, Geralt?”

“Who is that?!” Geralt cries from his place near the fire. He has a white-knuckle grip on the overstuffed armchair he’s perched in and his clothing is mussed; Jaskier motions for him to be quiet and Geralt bites his lip, worrying the soft pink skin between his unusually dull canines.

“Was that Geralt?” Yennefer asks. "Did Jaskier summon me?"

“Yes and yes,” Jaskier replies. “I think he’s been cursed or enchanted or something. I was hired to play at the Duke of Rinde’s All Hallow’s Eve celebration and Geralt accompanied me - even dressed up for the occasion - but something happened at the party and now he’s acting strangely. I don’t know what to do.”

"What's happening?" Yennefer prods.

"Geralt is acting rather out of sorts. He’s speaking strangely, he wanted to flee the party rather than investigate the source of the changes-”

“What changes?”

“Everyone sort of… Well, a good portion of the party guests suddenly transformed into their costumes,” Jaskier explains, his speech stunted by his disbelief. “I know it sounds incredible, and it was! One moment we were all enjoying the music and the next… there was a minotaur and a mermaid and a faun… Geralt went nearly mute and started clinging to my arm like some sort of aristocratic maiden!”

“Oh shit,” Yen groans.

“Who is that?” Geralt repeats. Jaskier continues to ignore his companion. He knows that the moment he turns his attention to caring for Geralt, he won’t be able to tear it away again, and he needs to finish this conversation with Yennefer first.

“Why are you swearing?” he asks the sorceress. “What is it?”

“Geralt asked me for advice about this stupid ball a few days ago, while you were busy making arrangements with the Duke. He wanted to impress you with his All Hallow’s Eve costume and prove that he could be just as fancy and well-mannered as all the other men of your status.”

“Why in the world would Geralt want to dress up and act like a nobleman? It makes no sense! He detests small talk, he hates vanity, and he finds most men of my station to be cowardly and overly delicate - myself included! I just- I don’t quite understand why he’d go through all of this just to impress me. Or why he thinks this kind of thing would be impressive in the first place.”

“Jaskier, please tell me that you aren’t as stupid as our mutually beloved Witcher…”

Jaskier considers for a moment, pondering the things that he does to impress Geralt: gathering wood, learning to cook with game meat, preparing the Witcher’s potion ingredients while he's out on hunts, organizing their packs when they're spiking camp, brushing Roach’s mane… Realization dawns suddenly and all at once. He has a moment of pure understanding, a moment much beloved by every poet, bard, and playwright across the Continent: “Oh.”

Yennefer gives a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“So he’s stuck as… a noble?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “I’ll portal you to my location and we can figure things out in peace. Get your things together, I’ll open it up in precisely five minutes.”

“What’s happening!?” Geralt demands. Jaskier pulls the Witcher/Count to his feet and bows shallowly.

“I am Jaskier Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I will be your protector and chaperone for the foreseeable future, Your Lordship,” Jaskier bows shallowly. “I’m going to gather our things together and then we are going to meet up with a very lovely sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Jaskier barely manages to hide his surprise at Geralt’s utter lack of recognition. His memories of Yennefer have also been taken, then.

“She’s a mutual friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

“I would like to think so,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt remains oblivious to the bard’s heartache, even as he curls himself against Jaskier. He tucks his face against Jaskier’s shoulder and sobs quietly. The bard runs his hands comfortingly up and down Geralt’s spine for a long, soothing moment. The smooth, royal-blue velvet tickles his fingertips. “Shh, dear heart. I’ve got you. Everything will be alright, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Geralt whispers.

Just as Jaskier is about to reply, Yennefer’s portal snaps open in the center of the room. Jaskier hands Geralt a set of bags and hauls his own over his shoulder. “Time to go, Your Lordship. Just take one little step…”

---

“Do you know who I am?” Yennefer asks. Geralt shakes his head before burying his face in the back of Jaskier’s shoulder-blade.

“I’m so frightened, Milord.”

Frightened? Milord? Yennefer mouths. Jaskier shrugs nearly imperceptibly and makes a panicked gesture in the Witcher’s general direction.

“I don’t know what to do either!”

“Well, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened at the party before all of… this.”

Jaskier recounts every detail he can remember in the most straightforward way possible, momentarily renouncing his poetic skills in favor of efficiency - for Geralt’s sake, of course, not Yennefer’s. When he's finished he asks: “And you said he did all of this to impress me?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Jaskier repeats his earlier question. Yennefer understands that his meaning is different; Jaskier understands that Geralt is interested in him romantically, but the bard can't seem to get it through his head that Geralt has deemed him worthy. Although, knowing the Witcher, he isn't even sure how to go about doing such a thing in the first place.

"I just... I don’t quite believe you," he adds.

“He loves you,” Yennefer reiterates. "And now he’s stuck like this until the effects of the spell wear off, so I suggest you take his precious Lordship to one of my spare rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both for breakfast, providing the magic is null and void by then.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I hope you enjoy small talk, you bardic bastard.”

Yennefer smirks and disappears from the room in a whirl of black and white silk, the scents of lilac and gooseberry curling through the air in her wake.

Geralt clings to Jaskier’s bicep again as the exhausted bard stands, keeping his larger body pressed against the human’s side as if Jaskier is the one who wields the Witcher’s swords. “So I’m under a spell?”

“Yes, darling.”

“At least I have you here to protect me, Jaskier. You’re so brave and strong; my hero!”

“It’s usually the other way around, dear heart, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, how about we find a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Milord?”

"Alright."

Jaskier moves Geralt's hand so that it's curled around the inside of his elbow, the proper etiquette for a platonic escort, and leads him quickly down the long hallways of Yennefer's sprawling manor house. He chooses the blue-themed bedroom at the back of the East Wing, far from the sorceress' own suite of rooms.

He has to help Geralt change out of his lordly costume, the Witcher-turned-Count fumbling uselessly at the laces and buttons as if he'd never seen a fastening before in his life. Geralt whispers shyly as Jaskier pulls a nightshirt over his head: "Thank you again, Milord Jaskier. I feel as if I can't help but continue indebting myself to you."

"Think nothing of it, dear heart," Jaskier smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I am happy to help you."

Jaskier tucks Geralt into bed before changing into his own nightclothes, tossing his things back into their travel bags as he swaps outfits. He feels Geralt tense up when he sits on the edge of the bed and his eyebrows narrow in concern.

"Are you alright, Geralt?"

"Are you going to share a bed with me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jaskier answers with a question of his own.

"I... I wouldn't mind it if we shared."

Jaskier wishes he had Witcher sight, so he could catch a glimpse of the blush no doubt attempting to stain the Witcher's face. Despite the mutagens, Geralt's face still went pale pink when he encountered a strong emotion. It was adorable. And incredibly rare.

As soon as he pulls the covers over his chest, Geralt glues himself to Jaskier's side, snuggling close. "Feels safer," he says in lieu of explanation.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

"Goodnight."

---

"Fuck," Geralt groans, sitting up in bed. Jaskier sits up beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Milord," he teases.

"Shut up," Geralt groans. Jaskier does get to see him blush this time, and the bard revels in it; he would trade all the gold in the world to see Geralt flush like this. "I can't believe I cried on you!"

"It was rather adorable, actually."

"Hmm."

"Still..." Jaskier reaches out, tentative, and cups Geralt's cheek with his palm. He turns the Witcher's face and locks their gazes together, blue meeting gold. "Still, I think I prefer you as you are. My big, strong Witcher who cares so much about defending the little guy. Willing to step in and help wherever and whenever he can."

Geralt's eyes get a little glassy and he leans forward, pausing and letting Jaskier make the final decision. The bard meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Geralt's without any sense of urgency at all. It's warm and sweet, time fading away as they let their feelings pour through this one simple gesture. When they pull apart again, Geralt gives a surprised, lopsided smile. "Oh."

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 16

in which everyone has a bad time. except kasia. he's having fun

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory @justbreakonme @downrivergirl914 @cdragontogacotar @whumps-up @vaguelyhumanvoid @kim-poce @kween-pinescales

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, force feeding, stress positions, references to mouth whump and burns

-

Rowe took to repeating the affirmations every day, whispering them past the newly empty gaps in his gums. When he did them, he could forget for a little while that he was going to die in his cell. At least he could die as something. He wouldn’t let Kasia turn him into an empty husk.

I have worth.

I don’t deserve pain.

I’m a person.

He was careful, of course, to lock them away when Kasia visited. He tried not to associate them with pain; he said them every day when he woke up, not when he was freshly hurting. He didn’t want to ever, ever, say them in front of Kasia.

He knew if he did it would just get him another beating, but they were his. They were precious. They were a relic of Master that Kasia couldn’t corrupt.

He just had to keep his stupid mouth shut when it mattered.

For the first time since his arrival here, Rowe spent a whole day alone. The hours ticked by as he started to see shapes in the floor, and wondered if Kasia would ever return. Was this it? Had he got bored already? Would Rowe be left to die and rot after less than a week, his capture so recent he could still feel Master’s hands in his?

In reality it only meant that when Kasia did come back the next day, Rowe despised himself for the brief flash of relief. The man he was at the mercy of had returned to torture him another day.

Kasia had brought more chains, and restraints, always in his duffle bag, and Rowe had quickly learnt to shrink away at the mere sight of it. Rowe stayed curled up on the floor as he entered, eyeing him like a kicked dog.

“Did you miss me, pup?”

“Please,” he replied hoarsely. “Please give me f-food. Please.”

Rowe would never have dared beg with his first Master. But he had always known that he would be fed, eventually, once he had learnt his lesson. And of course, he’d never needed to beg Master Tomas. But here, there weren’t any rules. Nothing was guaranteed. So fuck it, he might as well try to prolong his life.

“Today’s your lucky day. I actually brought something. You’ll have to earn it, though. No getting on my fucking nerves, yeah?”

You’re the one who chooses to come here, Rowe thought despairingly.

“Okay, okay, just please-“

“Didn’t you just hear me?” Kasia kicked him in the stomach and Rowe moaned. He nodded, wincing as the burns on his neck pressed together.

“Arms up, come on.”

. . .

Tomas had made it from the shower to the downstairs sofa, and he was content with that. Not proud, no, proud would imply he was happy with himself in some way, but at least he wasn’t completely catatonic today. Luca had texted saying to answer the door if it rang, and a part of Tomas still wanted to impress him, despite it all. So he had showered and brushed the last of the blood from his hair. God, how many days had it been?

A small movement on the floor caught his eye. A spider, out of reach, too far to feasibly get him. He felt acutely aware of his own apathy then, as instead of shrieking or running away, he just stared.

The chance of the spider hurting him was practically zero. And yet he was still afraid. Afraid of it crawling over his skin, afraid that it might come near him in the night when he was asleep and vulnerable, and although he knew deep down that it wouldn’t, there was always the possibility of it deciding to run up his leg at any given moment. Even being near it made him afraid.

He thought of Rowe. He felt like he understood something. He sighed.

Luca arrived not half an hour later, banging on the door and shouting for Tomas as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey! It’s me- don’t leave me outside on this cold night. I’m only an orphan boy.”

Tomas pulled the door open. He couldn’t smile, but seeing Luca felt like the weight in his stomach was lifted slightly.

“It’s not cold. And you’re not an orphan.”

“I am happy to see you, though,” Luca said calmly. He was holding a basket, its contents hidden under a teatowel. “I brought you a pull-yourself-together hamper. Some ready meals, dry shampoo, fruit, and stuff. And the teatowel. ‘Cause why not.”

Already Tomas could feel Luca’s warmth seeping into him. He put a hand over his mouth and nodded. “Than- thanks, thank you, you know you don’t owe me anything-“

“I know, handsome lad. But the thought of Rowe being kidnapped is- god, it’s awful. Don’t worry, I’m here of my own free will. Sometimes you just need someone else in the house.”

Tomas let him inside, feeling guilty about the mess, then feeling guilty because he was the one who allowed it to accumulate.

“Let’s open a window,” Luca suggested, and Tomas sloped over. “Want me to get that spider?”

He shook his head, trying uselessly to hide his face. “It’s fine, it’s fine, you can let it stay, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m-“

His own voice cracking cut him off but he pressed on.

“I’m fine, I really am.”

“You’re not. It’s okay.”

“Just- how- how the fuck did I let this happen. How did I not, I mean, I trusted him this whole- whole time and now it’s all gone wrong and-“

He sat heavily on the floor, leaning his face into the side of the sofa, not blinking, not seeing. He breathed out and time seemed to slow.

Luca’s hand rested on his shoulder, a gentle pressure to his fingers.

“What’s done is done. You can’t help Rowe by falling apart, and you definitely can’t help yourself like that either. It’s, ah, it’s hard. It’s really hard. But you can collapse and cry and disintegrate when Rowe is back, I promise. Do you know where Kasia lives?”

Tomas nodded. “I haven’t even thought about that. I can’t believe myself.”

“Hey, no falling apart okay?” Luca’s tone was firm, and it made Tomas pull his head up, to look at him. His hair, braided in two chunky plaits, hung asymmetrically, one past his collarbone and one down his back. His eyeliner was winged like the letter V, drawn out in a point that came sharply back over his eyelid. Pretty. “That’s good to know, though. You could catch him on his way in or out, try to strike up a deal, I don’t know. I’ve not exactly had any experience with kidnappings either.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking stupid isn’t it. This whole situation is stupid. Fuck.”

Luca just looked at him, a sad smile ghosting over his face.

“I just can’t stop thinking about all the things that might be happening,” Tomas confessed. “He’s unhinged, he really is. He’s sick. And he’s got Rowe and the police don’t care, no one cares.”

“I care. You care.”

Tomas didn’t reply and the words hung over them. Two people caring wasn’t much. But, he supposed, it was better than nothing.

. . .

Rowe’s arms would dislocate, they would they absolutely would, Kasia was setting him up to dislocate both his god damn shoulders or arms or whatever. Rowe could hardly tell where the pain was located, it felt like it was everywhere, burning through his like a fire burns a taut string.

The food- dog food, but still edible, still something- sat before him, emptied on the floor, and from where Rowe knelt he should’ve been able to lean and eat easily. But Kasia had his arms bound and tied to the bars of the cage door, pulling them back and turning any movement into agony. Not only was he bent out of shape, but the burns along his shoulders were irritated awfully. He was sure his skin would burst open any second.

It had been twenty minutes at most, and already he was exhausted. Sweat rolled down him, dripping off his nose. He could hardly breathe.

Kasia’s heavy boot pressed down on the crown of his head, and his moan quickly became a scream of pain.

“No, no please!”

“I thought you were hungry. I’m helping.”

The pressure doubled, forcing Rowe’s face closer to the dog food, until he was close enough to open his mouth and take a bite. Disgust flooded him, and it only increased when he chewed. He swallowed past the collar, his throat pressing uncomfortably against it, and oh god, it felt so good, it was food in his belly, he was thankful for it despite everything. Kasia seemed satisfied and released his boot, sending Rowe’s head springing back to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. The skin near his burns had ripped and were bleeding, but nothing was dislocated.

“You’re definitely still hungry. How about another bite?”

Before Rowe could speak, Kasia had grabbed a fistful of hair, shoving him down, the sudden pull on his arms a thousand times worse than before, worse than anything, the pain was clouding his mind and he couldn’t think of anything but the barest, most built-in responses.

He screamed.

Spit flew from his mouth. Kasia kept pressing, his fingers curling tighter together, and the burning on Rowe’s scalp joined the rest of his body. His fingers were surely purple with how hard Kasia had tied them. Rowe had lost all feeling beyond his wrists.

“Please!”

Kasia ignored him.

“Please, st-stop, please M-M-Master Tomas help me-“

“He’s not fucking coming you stupid dog,” Kasia growled and pulled Rowe’s face all the way down, cracking his chin against the concrete, a deep shooting pain through his face and remaining teeth. He moaned. More skin tore along his shoulders. “No one’s coming to save you.”

A kick sent him lurching to the side, twisting his body until he was sprawled with his back to the floor, staring up at his bound hands, which were a mixture of blue and purple and were not moving at all.

He turned his head to see Kasia grabbing a fistful of the dog food from the floor and stepping over him.

“Mouth open.” Rowe complied and Kasia smiled mockingly. “Good boy.”

The dog food was shoved in, packing against the walls of his mouth, Kasia’s fingers prodding his gums, and it took everything not to vomit. His stomach heaved but nothing came. All he could do was be a good boy, and eat.

“Tomas isn’t your Master. He’s not coming.”

Present tense, thought Rowe as his eyes watered from the taste. He’s not dead.

. . .

Tomas couldn’t stop his legs from shaking as he stood on Kasia’s street, his hands tucked under his armpits for warmth. Yeah, the shaking was definitely just from the cold. Sure.

By the time Kasia appeared, it was night. He stalked down the street, stumbling slightly, and Tomas realised he was drunk. If he hadn’t had a reason to be there, he would have walked away right now, and fast.

When Kasia got close enough, Tomas stepped out of the shadows, forcing Kasia to stop and fix him with a glare.

“Give him back.”

“Or what?” he asked flatly, as if this meeting was no surprise. “Hah, you look like shit Tomas.”

“Give him fucking back, what do you want for him, money? You’re torturing a human being you sick fuck.”

“I’m having some fun with a Pet,” Kasia smiled. “And if you start whining like this I will just kill him.”

Tomas stiffened. “You wouldn’t.”

“You so sure about that?”

“Let him go.”

“No,” Kasia pushed him once and Tomas stumbled back, hitting a wall. He blinked and Kasia’s face was pressed up in front of his. He stank of booze and cigarettes. “Fuck off or I’ll kill him. I’ll hurt him worse to make up for this, too.”

“No, fuck no just leave him fucking alone-“

Kasia swung once, but mercifully something made him miss. Carelessness, the alcohol, perhaps just the assumption that Tomas was too pathetic to move out of the way. His fist cracked against the wall and as he shouted in pain Tomas considered kicking him between the legs, spitting on him, whatever. But Rowe’s life was at stake so, like the coward he was, he ran into the night, Kasia shouting taunts behind him.

Luca looked up when he pushed through the door, panting. He’d run the entire way. Luca stayed silent; the look on Tomas’s face was telling enough.

“I’m a fucking failure,” he whispered, and started to cry.

[nincompoopydoo]

LOVE IS STRANGE

PAIRING: Poe Dameron x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: The union of Ireca and Mohash may seem a typical cliche of love in comparison to your depressingly lonely state, but when a certain poster boy pilot emerges during the celebration, you wonder if love works in other underlying ways. A/N: I found this in my google docs, first written about a year ago. so, wohoo i present to you my first ever poe dameron content, i think? he's so charming and carelessly beautiful. please leave a comment and tell me what you think or what else you'll like to see from me 💖 gif by @john-seed from this gifst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, space swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

Love is strange. Delicate yet fierce. So forceful that it manages to seep through the cracks created by bombs and gunfire of war. Unexpected at times, appearing out of nowhere. Yet, it’s beautiful because it brings those with beautiful hearts and minds together, entangled in the constant dance of intimacy and devotion.

It’s what Ireca and Mohash have.

Ireca was from the Logistic division, a mechanic herself and your colleague. She was to be married to her long-time lover, Mohash, a flight engineer for the Cobalt Squadron. As far as cliches go, wartime love falls along the lines of a romance cliche. Yet, war was all you’ve known. It’s what everyone has ever known. It’s common to develop some kind of a feeling other than the constant emotions during battle—fondness, the feeling of falling in love with someone. It’s truly what we stay alive for.

Maybe that’s why you hate it so much. The absence of the feeling that everyone describes as so fucking amazing that it completes you. You feel empty most of the time. It’s definitely the reason why you put all your effort into fixing things you can rather than complicated problems and issues that continue to reside in your mind, especially in the wake of midnight.

You find yourself sitting by the makeshift bar, tucked away from the crowd of friends and colleagues. There’s music playing, the sound of drums, and the seven-string hallikset reminds you of your brief visit to Naboo three cycles ago. You’re nursing a warm cup of something that tastes closer to acid water than alcohol.

Ireca emerges from the crowd with flowers in her braided hair. She approaches you with a bright smile and calls out your name wistfully. You shoot a strained smile her way, feeling the bags under your eyes weigh a little more. “What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?” she asks, leaning against the bar with a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired. Last night was rough. Plus, I’m behind schedule.” you sighed heavily, running your fingers through your hair. She flashed you a smile of sympathy as you continued, “I’m sorry, Ireca. Don’t let me ruin your night. Go, have fun.”

She raises an eyebrow as you take another sip from your cup.

"Go. I'm sure you don't want to miss Mohash's special performance." You gesture to a drunk Mohash, who seemed to be searching for the woman. Ireca merely laughed. "Oh, it sure is going to be special." With a gentle touch to your back and wave, you watch her make her way into the swarm of bodies. You're left alone once again.

You’re still trying to figure out how Mohash even got hold of any sort of alcohol and managed to smuggle it into the base. Someone must have nicked it during one of the previous missions in the Mid Rim.

You rub your eyes, half-awake at this point; your cup is placed beside you as you rest your head against your folded arms on the table. Your mind is in a daze and incapable of irrational thought, deciding it would be best to just camp out here, by the makeshift bar, for the night. You were too tired to drag yourself all the way to your quarters, which felt like miles away, in the first place.

As sleep began to weigh heavy upon your eyelids, you suddenly felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. A soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted your head, still resting on your arms, just enough to peek at your sleep intruder.

It’s Poe Dameron. Commander and Black Leader. Incredibly talented, confident, and effortlessly handsome.

Ugh, you hate this guy.

Yet, you don’t feel so tired anymore.

“Are you drunk?” There’s amusement in his voice with a tinge of mockery. It made you realize the stun you were pulling. Classic Dameron. It was supposed to be a happy ceremony, but it was truly Ireca’s fault for manipulating you into coming tonight. Parties, events, and social gatherings were never right up your alley. You prefer spending time with machinery and your greasy hands.

Poe’s eyes are gleaming under the fluorescent lights, filled with concern, but you spot the smugness in his emerging smile. A flash of a thought, you kind of want to feel his lips on yours. The image immediately stings. You want to gag.

Poe is irritating, arrogant, and careless. Not charming. Nope, definitely not charming.

You straighten yourself, trying to shake off the burning image, shoving it to the back of your head. You lift your head, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the heel of your hand. “You actually think I’ll even touch that bantha shit?”

Tearing your eyes away from Poe, you reach for your cup only to realize it was empty. He casts you a look. Your eyes shoot daggers with an extended pointer finger his way, “Don’t you dare say anything, flyboy.”

Poe raises his palms in defense, lips pursing. “Wasn’t going to.”

You catch a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, one hand discreetly reaching under his tawny leather jacket. Then, a bottle of Corellian whiskey emerges, shining under the lights of the Resistance hangar. Your face lights up at the recognition of the bottle, memories of your rare trips to Corellia, sharing whiskey drinks with your colleagues. It was the only planet you’d been to ever since you joined the Resistance.

You’ve only tasted Corellian whiskey once because of how expensive it is. You’ll happily get drunk to that in a heartbeat. Drink the worry and sorrow away with the lingering taste of frankly exorbitant whiskey.

Like a child with grabby hands, you reach for the bottle, but as your fingers brush his, Poe quickly lifts it to the air and away from you. He smacks your hand away. You whine, feeling a little lightheaded. The contents of the mysterious drink are starting to kick in.

What the blinkin' mradhe muck was in that drink?

“What do you want from me? It’s not like I have a drinking problem.”

He’s giving you that look like he’s judging you, but with a hint of amusement at the slight tug of the corner of his mouth. “You definitely have a drinking problem, but... i'll let you drink this on one condition.”

“For kriff’s sake,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, glancing away. “I’m not doing any weird wacky favors for you, Dameron.”

He scoffs, expression bewildered. “Hey, I don’t ask for weird wacky favors,” He articulates his words with a defensive tone, index finger stretched to your face. You simply smack it away as Poe clicks his tongue and continues to clarify his proposition. “All I’m asking is for you to fix my ship.”

Your wide-eyed gaze flies to him, shaking your head furiously. “Oh, no, no. No. Never in a million cycles. Never in a million millennials. Nuh-uh—”

“Hey, quit being dramatic. It’s a simple job.”

Your eyes grow even wider, voice raising. “A simple job? You fly that ship of yours like we have hundreds of spare ones. I’m not putting all my time and effort into fixing a lost cause.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“No. I’m not fixing your ship, and that’s final.”

Poe blinks and you’re back to fussing over your empty cup. The chatter of the crowd grows louder as a group of pilots of the Cobalt Squadron began rendering verses of an unknown traditional drinking song to your ears. You steal a look to only find Ireca and Mohash amidst a dance, tangled in each other's arms.

He eyes closely, noticing the turn of your lips, trained eyes deem melancholy. He knows the face of a loner very well—usually recruits with lost family and homes. They enlist in a mass community of freedom fighters for the restoration of good in the universe, and to finally feel a sense of familiarity and belonging. He doesn’t know much about you but he knows you don’t truly have anyone to depend on but yourself. It’s the reason why you’re constantly fierce.

Poe clears his throat, shifting closer to you as he watches the way you carry your gradual gaze to hold his. They then flit to the space between the two of you, raised eyebrows acknowledging the weird close proximity of his presence to yours.

“Look, you’re the best mechanic there ever was and probably ever will be. So, fix my ship, and you get to have this Corellian beauty. All of it.” He sways the bottle in the air, but you don’t look at it.

“You know, that’s bribery.”

“Yes, and it’s working.”

You scoff. “No, it isn’t.”

Poe laughs. “Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

Another scoff, you look fully aggravated. “How dense do you think I am?”

“Oh, very, but let’s not get into that.”

Bickering was the only language the two of you spoke fluently when you found yourselves tangled in a conversation with one another. Thrown insults were spoken lies—saying you hate each other when you know that isn’t true. Well, at least you don’t mean it and you hoped Poe didn’t either.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. For once, kindness and acceptance seem to be the easiest route.

A sigh passes your lips as you blink up to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer for blessings from the Maker above. “You’re right. I am dense. Truly dense. So, yeah. Okay. I’ll fix that stupid X-Wing of yours.”

Poe blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait, really?”

With a roll of your eyes, they meet his very own wide ones. “Yes, really. Only because you complimented me. Now, hand me that Corellian whiskey before I change my mind.”

He then makes a sound that resonates between a cough and a pleasantly surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with delight. Poe happily and absentmindedly passes the whiskey to you, still reacting like your agreement is some sort of object of ridicule in the best way possible.

“Wow—Maker, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re saving me from. If the General ever found out—man, pfft. Thank you. Thank you so much—”

A swift and unexpected motion, he is reaching you, palms clasp and either side of your face, and plants a quick peck on the side of your left temple.

Poe isn’t thinking straight.

There you are, mid-swig, lips so close to the rim of the bottle with eyes so wide. You steal a steady glance at the pilot whose expression seems to reflect yours. His hands are still on your cheeks. He’s unbelievably close to you and he’s staring with that stupid look of his.

‘Maker, preserve me.’

A cheer erupts from the crowd from across the space and just like that, the moment is gone. Whatever the moment even was. His touch is no longer on yours and his gaze shifting away.

The tension, however, is still very present.

You finally take a swig of the whiskey, wanting to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You hum at the stinging sensation on your tongue. You catch a glimpse of Poe from the corner of your eye who busies himself with tapping his fingers nervously against the surface of the bar.

Then, in an awkward motion, you stretch your arm to him, offering the drink.

A beat. His gaze shifts between you and your hand. When he finally gives in, a smile curves upon his lips, fingers brushing against yours. They’re delicate and you smile at him. It's small, but it makes his heart skip a beat and you wonder to yourself about the strangeness of love.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

--/--

Part 1:

You’re not sure what you’re looking at.

He’s covered head to toe in soot, knocked out cold and hardly moving against the railing of your balcony. There’s an unsettling slump to him, and his costume creases as heaving, rattling breaths leave his lips. There’s blood soaking his clothes, dripping from his nose and onto the concrete. When you call out to him, his eyes flutter briefly beneath his eyelids, but other than that he’s entirely unresponsive.  

You know who he is. Dynamite. Bakugou Katsuki. He’s a burgeoning pro-hero, just hardly starting out, but he’s already climbing the ranks. Anyone with a TV had been watching his highlights for years now.

What you don’t know, is what villian sent him hurtling onto your balcony; or if that villain was still hanging around- either way, you realize you’ve got to get him inside. The mid-winter cold was already biting at your skin, and you figured he couldn’t have been doing much better. 2 AM was certainly not a optimum time for finding yourself unconscious, after all. 

Shivering slightly, you loop your arms under his and begin to tug him inside your apartment. You find very quickly that his dead-weight and ridiculous muscle mass make the job a lot harder than it needs to be. It feels like you’re deadlifting an elephant, and when you finally shut the door behind the both of you, your thighs burn from the effort. 

A part of you wonders if all the exertion was even worth it, but that quickly fades with one look at his costume. You briefly wonder if you’ll get a medal for saving one of Japan’s beloved heroes- after all that heavy lifting, you sort of feel like you deserve it. 

You begin adjusting his limbs, pressing him flat against the floor and tipping his head back. The bleeding in his nose seems to be slowing, but you don’t want to take any chances. You tip his head a little further to the side, hoping it’ll be enough to not let him choke on the blood. The nerves begin to settle in; you’re not sure what to do now. You were hoping he’d wake up on the way in and direct you from there, but hat didn’t happen.

As it looks now, Dynamite wouldn’t be directing a single thing any time soon.

Your fingers itch. The familiar burning begins, and you flex them in your gloves, wondering just how bad of an idea using your quirk would be. 

Bakugou did look pretty hurt, and even without all your years studying medicine, anybody could tell several of his bones were broken. Not just that, but one of his ankles was lolling grotesquely. When you get a closer look, you find tiny bits of bone threatening to burst through the thin skin- his ankle has shattered completely and you’re sure he’s got to be in shock. Pain like that would take just about anyone out. Even a pro-hero.

You sign in frustration, kneeling next to him as you try to make a decision. The itch in your hands is telling you to use your quirk- to help him, but it’s not that easy. Your quirk is all encompassing, and exceedingly powerful, but it doesn’t discriminate. It will try to lessen all of his hurt, physical and mental, and you don’t want to pry into his business. If you try to help him now, you won’t only feel aftershocks of his broken bones, but you’ll get flashes of his memories too. It’s invasive, uncomfortable, and damn near uncontrollable; you really don’t want to have to resort to that. 

Sighing once more, you slide your phone out of your pocket. You’re not really sure who to call, but you figure the Hero Public Safety Commission is a good start. You’ve barely been connected to the main line, before you feel a hand drop heavy onto your thigh.

“Fuckin’- stop. Fuckin’ phone. Stop.” He grunts, half-lucid and slurring. His face screws up in pain as he lifts his arm to bat at your phone. “That’s a- fuckin’ order.”

“It’s alright, I’m calling for help.” You soothe calmly, suddenly glad for all of your emergency aid training. You lean back, phone held out of his reach as the operator tells you to hold. “You’re alright. I’m getting you help. You’ll be okay.” 

“No- fuckin’ stupid! You don’t get it! Stop. Don’t call them.” 

Then he’s surging upwards, and all you can see is his pupils blown wide and his angry expression. His palms are cackling and you’re shrinking away instinctively, but he’s not after you. Bakugou grabs the phone out of your hands, running off of nothing but fumes and adrenaline, and chucks it across the room. Then he grunts in pain, coughing as he flops back, boneless onto the ground. 

“Why- what the hell? Oh my god-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou bites out, his breath rattling in his chest. His voice is weak and raspy, but his eyes are steely and intense. He looks pissed. “Jesus fucking christ. I told you. So shut up, you fuckin’ dolt, it’s your own damn fault.” 

You first instinct is to scream, to yell and screech and berate him for shattering your phone. The rage boils thickly under your skin, only boosted by his irritated sigh, but then you remember your training. People in shock were generally disoriented, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a stretch to assume they could be irrationally angry. 

All it takes is one look at Bakugou’s blown pupils and rising goosebumps, and then you sigh. He’s in shock. You’ll decide to give him a pass. 

“S-stop fuckin’ starin’. What the fuck, are you even-” He slurs suddenly, words hardly forming around teeth suddenly beginning to chatter. “Why the hell is it so cold? Hah?!” 

“Not cold. You’re in shock.” You say calmly, doing your best not to make any sudden movements. “But it’s alright. I’m a nurse. I can help you.”

Your words seem to miss him completely, and he just tracks your movement with wide eyes and quick breaths. His legs are twitching and you watch him try to move his ankle, see the panic rise in his eyes when it’s unresponsive. He tries again, scrambling up on his forearms as his chest heaves. He’s spiraling, quick, and you need to help him calm down. Soon. Or he was going to pass out again. 

With gentle hands, you press against his shoulders until he’s flat against the wood again. Bakugou tries to fight at first, gasping for air, but you’re stronger. He tips his head back to look up at you, near terror clouding his eyes. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. You’re alright. I’m a nurse.” You reassure him once more, before slipping your jacket off your shoulders slowly. “This is just to keep you warm, alright? Just a jacket. I have to try stabilizing your temperature before anything else.” 

“Can’t- I can’t,” His voice is rising, words bitten out and angry as his eyes dart around the room. “Where the fuck did you take me? This isn’t- let me go! I’ll fuckin’ blow you to hell, bitch!” 

Bakugou’s words are scary and harsh, his palms crackling wildly at his sides. He’s very injured, nearly paralyzed by all his broken bones, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping his quirk. You didn’t want to use your own quirk, but at this point it’s seemingly the only option. You need to get him to calm down, to bring him out of his shock before he blows your entire place up.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, allowing your hands to fall on his arm. Normally you’d try to activate your quirk directly on an injury, but as it stood now Bakugou was just one giant broken bone. You could feel him trying to shake you off, so you just hold on tighter as you focus.

You begin to shiver, all your bones vibrating in your skin as you take on his pain. It starts in your toes, an almost inconceivable pain that runs searing trails of lava through your marrow before it settles behind your temples. His physical pain manifests as a room-blurring, white-hot migraine, but his mental pain hits you a million times harder.

You’re seeing flashes behind your eyelids- flashes of yelling and screaming and bright orange-red explosions, every snap-shot moving so fast that it nearly rips the breath from your lungs. You screw your eyes shut, groaning in pain, as your head falls forward. There’s rage boiling your blood, and suddenly it feels like you’re on fire. Like you’ve always been on fire and all you can do is yell and scream and itch at your skin until it peels away. Until the broiling heat is released and your don’t ribs feel like a prison anymore. Until every breath stops feeling like it’s eating away at your throat.

The itch in your fingers starts again, but this time it’s different. It has you balling your hands into fists and shaking as the anger suffocates you. All you can see is red, red, red.

Then it stops. Everything stops and your fists uncurl, and suddenly you’re scared. You’re terrified like you’ve never been before, heart seizing in your chest. It skips a beat. Picks up. Skips a beat, picks up. 

You’ve never felt anything like this before. This isn’t shock, you’ve felt that before, and it isn’t concussion fog either. It’s something dormant, pulsating strong and steady beneath all his current afflictions. The feeling is dark and smothering and intense like nothing you’ve ever known before. He’s miserable. Bakugou is utterly miserable and angry, and you’re sure you weren’t supposed to feel that. 

You tear your hands away from Bakugou, falling backwards onto the floor without grace. Your heart hardly begins to slow, hardly begins to settle, before you hear him groaning next to you. When you look at him, his eyes are more alert and his teeth, thankfully, have stopped chattering. Unfortunately, his pupils are still blown and he looks just as freaked out as before. You’re starting to think that maybe he also has a concussion.

“What the fuck did ya do to me? Hah?” He gasps out. “What kinda fuckin’ quirk-“

“I call it Alleviate.”

“I don’t give a shit what you call it! Felt you in my fuckin’ head! Who the fuck said you could pull that-“

“I’m sorry.” You cringe at his yelling, rubbing at your temples as you sit up. The headache from earlier early fades, but it leaves bone-deep exhaustion behind. “My quirk targets and lessens all pain- physical and mental. I can’t choose which one. I was just trying to help.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ ask for your help!”

“I know. I’m sorry. Again.” You wince, scrunching your eyes shut. You felt woozy and weak, just like you always did after using your quirk. “It’s just- you were in shock. You were gonna blow my whole apartment up. I had to.”

You answer washes over Bakugou like a bucket of cold water. You watch him still where he lies, fingers twitching at his sides. A beat passes and then he’s shifting again, nostrils flaring in annoyance when he can hardly sit up. 

You watch his face contort in pain once more, and suddenly you’re not tired anymore. The feeling reminds you of working at the hospital, and you find the urge to help him much outweighs your own exhaustion. You’d push through it- just like a graveyard shift at work. 

“Now, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath for me, and try your best to relax.” You say in an even tone, holding steady eye contact. “You’ve got a lot of injuries, and you need to lay back down. You’ll just exacerbate them if you keep moving.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do- I’m fine! I’ll be good, jus’ need a few fuckin’ minutes,” He huffs, but then he falls back again once more. You guide him with you hands gently, intent on making the impact as painless as possible. “Now get out of my fuckin’ face.” 

“If I thought you would be fine by yourself, I would.” You snort, leaving his side to gather your phone and some pillows from your couch. You slide one pillow under his head and the other under his ankle gently, doing your best to be delicate. “But you aren’t, and you need help. I know what I’m doing. I’m a nurse, and I’ve done this many times, so trust me and try to relax, alright?” 

“Relax? I can’t fuckin’ move!”

“I know. All I can do is help with the pain, I can’t heal you, but-”

“That’s a shitty fuckin’ quirk.”

“It actually isn’t; not in my line of work, at least.” You say indulgently, before pressing two fingers under his jaw. His heart is still beating wildly, way too quickly. “Now, did you crash land with a phone on you? Any identification?” 

“You don’t know who I am? How stupid are you?”

“Not stupid. I know who you are- but all those things are important for when an ambulance gets here. You have way too many broken bones to walk it off, so I’m gonna call you an ambulance, alright?” 

“You’re not calling shit!” 

“I have to call somebody for you. I’ve done all I can.” You push on calmly, schooling your features even as exhaustion ebbs at your mind. “Now, if not the hero commission, who do you want me to call for you?” 

He seems to resist for a moment, but then his eyebrows settle. He clenches a fist at his side, sighs, and begins to rattle off a number.

“Put it on fuckin’ speaker.” Bakugou demands, scrunching his face up as you type in the number.

You roll your eyes at his tone, but comply anyway. The phone rings four times before somebody picks up.

“Uh, hello?” The voice asks groggily, thick sleep clouding his voice. “Who’s, uh, who’s this?”

“Oi- Shitty Hair. Clear your fuckin’ throat. Sound disgusting as shit.” Bakugou grits out. “And wake the hell up, I need you to do something.”

“Are you asking me for help?”

“Yeah. Whatever. Shut up about it.”

“I didn’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou barks. Then he blinks, pauses a second before adding an afterthought. “Fuckin’ bitch.”

On the other side of the phone, the man sighs something existentially exhausted and put-upon. You think that’s probably an accurate description of what associating with Bakugou is like. At least, that’s what you’ve gathered from this first impression.

“Just- you’re gonna get an address texted to you. Go to it.” Bakugou orders, turning his head to look at you. He squints his eyes, daring you to put up a fuss about his plans. “And bring your fuckin’ car. Do not take the subway.”

“My car? Dude, you hurt or something?”

“Yeah. He is.” You say, holding a finger out to Bakugou so he doesn’t say otherwise. “Pretty badly, too. He doesn’t want me to call an ambulance, but he definitely won’t be able to walk out of here.”

“What? Oh my god. Is he-“

“He’s alright. Don’t worry.” You assure. “I’ve stabilized him, for now, but he definitely needs more help than I can give hi-“

“Yeah! Fuckin’ nurse, my ass, she didn’t do shit for me!” Bakugou interrupts, lips pulled back into a snarl. “Useless quirk bitch!”

You roll your eyes again. If he wasn’t in so much pain, and you hadn’t been used to hearing so much worse at the hospital, you’d kick his ass.

“Sorry. About him.” The man on the phone apologizes, as he sucks in a breath. “Send me the address, and I’ll get there as soon as possible. Alright?”

“Yep. You got it.”

The call cuts, and you send your location to him over text. When you look down at Bakugou, his face is screwed up once more, and he’s heaving shallow breaths all over again. Your quirk must be wearing off.

“Scale 1-10, how much pain are you in?” You ask him.

“Stupid- stupid fuckin’ question.” He seethes through teeth clenched shut. “Not funny. Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. It’s a question to gauge whether or not I should use my quirk on you. It won’t be good for either of us if you pass out from the pain again.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. If you say so.” You say, leaning back on your hands. The exhaustion seeps in again, but you blink away the fog. “But seriously, if it gets unbearable, I need you to tell me.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“Maybe not, but this is pretty much my job, alright? I’m gonna try and make this as painless for you as I can.” You try to soothe, voice light and unassuming. “But, I will need you to keep talking, alright? You have to try and stay lucid.” 

Bakugou glares at you, presses his mouth into a thin line. His defiance is written clear across his face, and you’re sure he’d be crossing his arms across his chest if he could. Maybe even stomping his foot if he could stand. All in all, he reminds you of the pouting children you so often give flu-shots to. The thought makes you smile a bit.

“Fuck you smiling about?” He grumbles suddenly, but his voice is off. When you look down at him, he’s clenching his teeth as his eyes flutter closed.

“No. Stop. You need to keep them open.” You wave a hand in front of his face. “I’m not sure, but you might have a concussion so I need you to stay awake just in case.”

He just wrenches his eyes shut again, before blinking them wide open. When he looks up at you, his eyes are mostly pupil and there’s something stuttered about the way he tracks your movements. You’re suddenly glad all the lights in your apartment are off, you’re almost entirely sure he has a concussion. And not just a mild one, either. 

“Can you remember what happened? Before you were thrown onto my balcony?” You ask, trying your best to keep your voice quiet. 

“Yes. Fuckin’ obviously. I-” His eyebrows lift, and his eyes flicker around the room. There’s a frustrated sigh from Bakugou, and then he just sinks his head further into the pillow. “No.”

“Okay. That’s okay. That’s just the concussion symptoms, no need to panic. Are you feeling okay, right now? Any nausea? Dizziness?” 

“What the fuck are ya? Fuckin’ doctor or somethin’?”

You’re sure now. He’s concussed. Pretty badly too, considering he doesn’t remember the multiples times you’d already told him you were a nurse. You’re briefly impressed that he even managed to remember his friend’s number, but then again you reason, that could’ve been just an unexpected benefit from using your quirk. 

“Nurse. I’m a nurse.” You repeat, before re-adjusting the jacket you had previously spread over him. You pull it up to his shoulders. “Now, I’m sure your friend’ll get here soon, so I need you to just sit tight, alright?”

“Not a fuckin’ kid. Don’t need to be babied.” He slurs, eyes once again shuttering. “Knock it- knock it off.”

You just ignore his comment, focusing instead on trying to keep his eyes open. There’s not much you could do without disturbing his injuries, so you take to patting his cheeks gently. Anything to keep him from falling asleep- you don’t have the equipment necessary to evaluate his brain injury, and you don’t want to be blindsided by a potential seizure. 

“Don’t fall asleep. C’mon Bakugou, open your eyes. I know it hurts, and you’re probably really drowsy, but this is important.” You say again, a little louder this time. “I need you to stay awake.”

When he blinks his eyes open again, he’s hardly there. The effects of your quirk have seemingly completely worn off, and Bakugou’s feeling the full effects of his head injury. He looks confused and disoriented, and when he tries to lift a barely-sizzling palm towards you, his face seizes up in pain all over again.

“It’s okay. You’re good. No need to blow me up.” You smile gently, pressing his hand flat against the ground. Bakugou resists for a moment, before his arm goes slack. “All you need to do is keep your eyes open.”

Suddenly there’s a knock at the door, and you turn away from Bakugou. You watch him wince at the loud sound as you open the door. 

The first thing you notice about Bakugou’s friend is his bright red hair, and his shark teeth. He’s Red Riot, Kirishima Eijiro, and you know exactly who he is too. You breathe a relieved sigh, thankful that you could hand him off to someone you knew was capable. 

“Holy shit.” The man at the door says, suddenly gasping. “Bakugou!”

Scratch that. Kirishima just screamed bloody murder at a concussed person. Maybe not so capable.

“Be quiet!” You shush, ushering Kirishima in as you shut the door gently behind him. “I’m pretty sure he’s got a concussion, so I need you to be quiet. Too much noise is just gonna cause him more pain.” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay, got it. I understand.”

“Thanks.” You whisper. 

You lead him over to the sliding balcony door, and Bakugou is right where you left him. He’s almost completely still, looking up at the both of you through lidded eyes. 

“Okay. So, I’m not sure where to send him, but he needs to go to a hospital. He’s got a shattered ankle, a severe concussion, probably a broken nose, and several broken bones, at least. Probably a few cracked ribs too.” You report tactfully. “The good news is, I haven’t seen any symptoms of internal bleeding. That’s great so far, but I can’t be entirely rule it out, so we need to get him to someone who can.”

Kirishima doesn’t say anything, just gulps nervously back at you. 

“It’s alright.” You soothe. “He’ll be just fine, as long as we get him help soon. Now, I’m not sure where heroes go for treatment, and Bakugou isn’t in any position to tell me, so I need you to tell me. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. It’s- we’ve got a med-wing back at the hero complex.”

“Okay. Good. Do they have ambulances that can get here? We really shouldn’t be moving him without a stretcher to stabilize him, and I don’t have one.” 

“Yeah. They do. I’ll give them a call.” 

“Good.” 

Kirishima takes his phone out, as you settle back on the floor next to Bakugou. Bakugou’s barely lucid, but he’s sniffing and then you realize his nose is bleeding again. Upon closer inspection, his nose is definitely broken. There’s nothing you could do about that for the time being, but the blood seeping onto your floors was fixable. 

“Hey, can you make sure he keeps his eyes open for just a minute or so?” You ask Kirishima, nodding towards Bakugou. “I think he’ll probably be fine, but I need to be sure. I’m just gonna step away and get a wet rag. Try to clean up some of the blood as best as I can.” 

Kirishima just nods, taking your spot and dialing a number on his phone. You can hear his voice as you move into your kitchen. 

You fingers itch again. It’s irritating because you’re just tired, not spent, and you could be helping Bakugou a lot more if he’d let you. If he just let you, then you could alleviate his pain and his concussion symptoms all in one go, and waiting for the ambulance would be child’s play. 

But you can’t. Your quirk was invasive enough as a surprise- you wouldn’t purposefully dig into someone’s mind against their wishes.

It felt a little useless to only be wiping away blood when you could be doing so much more, but you ignore the feeling. It takes only a minute or so before you’re walking back to your living room, a few damp dish towels in hand.

“Is he still okay?” Kirishima asks, and you can see the panic in his eyes.

 You quickly come to the conclusion that Bakugou must not be someone who let’s himself get gravely injured a lot. Kirishima doesn’t seem to be used to seeing his friend hurt at all. 

“Yeah. Well, just as okay as he was before I left.” You reassure, settling on your knees at Bakugou’s side. Red eyes lazily slide over to you, and you try to smile something reassuring at him. “Bakugou’ll be just fine. How long until an ambulance gets here?”

“Soon. Should be soon.”

“Okay.” 

Quiet settles over the three of you, as you wad up a dish towel. You dab it over Bakugou’s face, rubbing away the dried blood that dripped down his mouth and neck. You hope it’ll make him a little more comfortable. As much of an asshole as he’d proven himself to be so far, you still wanted to help him. You’re sure he couldn’t be feeling anything other than absolutely miserable as he was. 

“Stop.” Bakugou slurs with barely any heat, scrunching his eyes as you work at the blood that somehow dripped around his ear. “Don’t fuckin’ need it.” 

“Shh. It’s okay. Just cleaning up some of the blood.” You say indulgently, smothering a crackling palm with another damp dish towel. “Just breathe, alright? Help’s almost here. You’re gonna be just fine.” 

“Fuckin’ course I am. Bitch.�� 

You snort, dabbing at the bits of dried blood in his hair. Bakugou just blinks at you, confused and disoriented, but still blessedly awake. You press his hair back to get at the skin of his forehead, and you might be imagining it, but you think Bakugou leans into the light touch. 

“He always like this?” You ask Kirishima, laughing slightly in pure disbelief. “He always so angry and prickly?”

“Only on his best days.” 

“It’s- that was funny. Good one.” 

Kirishima’s phone lights up suddenly, and then he’s walking to the other side of the room, taking the call quietly. He faces you with a wobbly smile when he turns back.

“They’ll be here in a minute or so. I told them to just walk up- shit, I probably should’ve asked, right?” He relays nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “Is that okay? I gave them your apartment number.” 

“Just fine. I don’t feel comfortable moving him, so I’m perfectly okay leaving it up to them. Thanks for your help.” 

“No, thank you. I- well, I’m sure he wasn’t exactly cooperative for you.” 

“He wasn’t.” You huff a sardonic laugh. “That’s alright though, he’s still far from the rudest patient I’ve ever had. Surprisingly.”

Kirishima just smiles at that, and then perks up at the sound of footsteps outside the door. He lets the paramedics in, and they’re crowding Bakugou as you step away.

 It’s quick work, and Bakugou is stabilized on a stretcher in just a few minutes. A part of you wants to help, even more so when you see the blonde mumbling in pain, but you stay back.

Just as everyone is filing out the door, you suddenly find yourself grabbing a hold of Kirishima’s arm.

“If it’s not too much to ask, do you think you could give me an update on him? When he wakes up and is lucid, I mean.” You ask unsurely. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine, but the affirmation would be nice, you know?”

You’re not sure what compels you to ask, especially not when Bakugou had been so prickly to you earlier, but you ask anyway. You tell yourself that it’s just residual nurturing urges from caring for him, but even you’re not sure that feels right. 

A part of you knows it’s because of what you felt in his head. How miserable he was and all the pain festering there- but an even larger part of you won’t admit it.

“Yeah. For sure. I’ve got your number.” Kirishima says, a small smile edging at his lips. “I’ll let you know in the morning. And thanks. Again.” 

“Of course. Tell him I hope he feels better.” 

Kirishima nods, and then leaves, closing the door behind him. Suddenly you’re alone in your apartment, and the silence is near deafening. You hadn’t realized just how loud a presence Bakugou was until he was gone. 

Sighing, you finally let the tiredness seep into your bones. You feel it there, thick and suffocating, dragging your feet as you collapse on your couch. There’s still bloody rags sitting on the floor, and you’re sure you’ve got some on your clothes, but you can’t be bothered to get up. 

You’re out before you know it, the memory of red eyes and white-hot anger playing behind your eyelids.

--/--

hope u enjoyed!!! yay!!  new series!! 

also, a few people have asked me to put a taglist together for my writing, and i’m planning on doing that. feel free to leave a comment if u’d like to be added to the list as well!! 

[chocolate-teapots]

Between the Lines: Kim Namjoon

                                    ●╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮●

                    In which you’re unsure whether your colleague is

                                 reading a book or reading you.

                                   ●╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯●

Warnings: hot teacher Joon, swearing if you squint, mentions of sex, sexual tension, dumb smart people.

"What the hell do you mean you're not going?"

Audrey, the history teacher, my greatest friend and the one who in fact got me this job was frenzied as I dropped the filled registration form on the wooden table and took a step away from it. She was wearing a chunky cosy cardigan, cradling a warm 'may contain champagne' mug in the empty staffroom, watching me pace.

"Can you sit down you're giving me whiplash," she whines, stroking the back of her neck.

"I can't just go on a school trip like a freak just because he's going. God, it sounds so stupid!"

"Look, this is the perfect opportunity for you to finally grow some balls and tell Mr Man Titties how you really feel! God isn't it about time? It's been two years, aren't you exhausted?"

Her frustration was real and I couldn't imagine how it looked from the inside considering how embarrassing it was on the inside too. I had been in love with the dashing English Literature teacher Kim Namjoon for two years ever since he showed me around the department on my first day. It was a cush so big it was shameful, too big to do anything about it.

Just thinking about his face hurt.

"I am."

I was.

I was tired of running away like an idiot whenever he walked in the same corridor as me and fed up with dropping scalding coffee on him whenever he hands it to me and his fingers accidentally graze mine.

It was draining having to justify to my class why I was suddenly so red and illiterate whenever he popped in. And the dangerous thing about being tired was that you start to care less about the things you usually worry about.

"So what are you waiting for? Sneak into his room, climb in his sheets and fuck the Jesus out of him!"

Not quite what I was going for.

"You really have a way with words Audrey," I shake my head with exasperation not sure what exactly she was expecting on a school trip surrounded by muddy teens who are often irritating and have no perception of personal space and/or privacy.

"I'm just saying that maybe this trip could be a bonding experience for you both since you know it's just you two and kids have to sleep at some point..." she trails off with a hidden smirk, putting the addictive image in my mind of me and him alone and the possibilities of solitude mischievously as she hides away in the screen of her phone.

But it had been 2 years.

If my feelings were reciprocated, it would've happened by now.

That also didn't mean I was opposed to more opportunities of being around him.

"So...what did you have in mind then?" I hesitantly ask, nonchalantly spinning the form around again and noticing the submission deadline was painfully far away.

Audrey's red lips curl in excitement as she puts down her phone, fingers drilling against the table.

༺═──────────────═༻

And, that's how I ended up standing outside a large bus, holding a clipboard and ticking off the students one by one as they greet me boarding the coach.

The sun was shining despite the early hours of the morning and I knew the heat would soon catch up with us. But I was untouchable today, oddly optimistic and confident in my best red and white summer dress that swooshed when I walked and a pair of black converse that would carry me into the late hours of the evening quite comfortably.

Also, I was actually looking forward to visiting Haddon Hall, the real-life magical inspiration for Jane Eyre's Thornfield Hall because I think I often forgot that I did in fact love literature. It was the phenomenon where if someone forced you to do something, even if it was something you loved, you would immediately hate it.

"Hey!"

His honey ash coloured hair soon bounced into view along with his breathtaking smile. Wherever he went, people stared in awe at his manliness and his presence and couldn't stop themselves from greeting him or throwing him a compliment. If I closed my eyes I think I could tell if he was in the room too.

But I looked down at the names, now blurred in my scattered panic, pretending I didn't see him.

"Y/N," he smiles, biceps and muscular forearms bulging out of his short sleeve black t-shirt as he holds a large sports bag on his shoulder. It was so simple, not even mesh or cropped or cut into pieces but still so effective.

Gulp.

Come on what would Audrey do.

"Hmm that's funny I don't see your name on the list," I mumble jokingly, pretending to scan the paper for a man who need not be introduced or be on any list for that matter.

He laughs adjusting his strap, eyes squinting and dimples like craters in his smooth golden skin.

Ok, that was good.  

"I promise I'll behave if you let me on board," Namjoon tries to persuade teasingly, voice lowering a little.

Oh, I hope he doesn't.

Jesus Christ.

"I'll need that in writing," I smile through rounds of pulsating flushes on my chest and creeping scratchy redness up my jaw. "Anyway nice to finally be working with you after all this time."

Finally? Oh, no did that sound desperate.

I itch, feeling a heat lump already popping up from the corner of my irritated jaw.

Jaw.

His jaw.

"You too Y/N, it's been a long time coming. It'll be fun, we'll make a good team," Namjoon starts to climb the narrow stairs up to the seating area, turning around to grin and sending me a friendly wink before finding a decent aisle seat at the front.

I knew it was friendly but that didn't make it any less attractive.

Just me and him.

For three days.  

Once he's out of sight my knees buckle, sinking like a physical sulk as I exhale breathily. The heat of just the situation alone was unbearable, the cool-ish air that my t-shirt fanning did was just like adding more fuel to the fire.

How was I going to survive this?

"This trip is going to kill me."

Right, I wasn't.

༺═──────────────═༻

Our interactions got briefer as the magic of the situation died.

I was reminded of the fact that I had a job to do and that even the most mature young adults could be incredibly hard to manage. The thing was with older kids was that you couldn't use fear or need or humiliation to get them to change their tune, you just had to work really hard to try and get them to respect you.

And it was safe to say we were both pretty well-liked.

That didn't mean there weren't any moments of misbehaviour like when we lost two girls because they didn't tell us that they were going to find a toilet and how one kid lost all of his spending money when really it was just tucked in the pocket of his bag.

It was the second night of this and so I was exhausted.

The girls after packets of Haribo's and cans of Pepsi max were giggly, hyper and bubbly so trying to convince them to go to sleep early so no one would grumble in the morning had proven impossible.

By the time the corridor finally quietened it was midnight and I was wide awake.

The only thing that could soothe me at this moment was Vodka but since it wasn't allowed, the library of the manor-like hotel and a re-read of Pride and Prejudice would have to do. It was so tranquil curled up on a comfortable armchair with some tea, thick cardigan wrapped around myself and the sounds of absolutely nothing.

It was beautiful.

The hotel itself dated back to 1573 and looked just as grand and historical as the grounds we visited earlier that day. If you squint you might actually get them confused.

The armchairs were chestnut brown, two facing each other and covered in the shadow of the staircase directly above. If it wasn't for the wooden lamp next to me, I would be completely submerged in the darkness of the night, a thought that comforted me and my migraine.

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬."

I couldn't help the smile that overcome me -again!- and the heavy feeling in my chest whenever I read Elizabeth's intelligent wit and solid burns against Mr Darcy. It was that picture-perfect moment that the reader was waiting for and that bubbly feeling of being in sweet love.  Imagine a story where falling in love with someone was just a natural consequence, where you didn't have to send someone a text to plan a date or have to deal with egotistical men who were only looking for one thing. That thing was Audrey's thing, not mine.

My toes curl in excitement, wrapping up further and leaning into the book until the world around me was no longer visible. I didn't want to live there anymore.

"You look so peaceful."

I jump, almost dropping the dusty brown book out of my hands as I spot the tall figure leaning against the stair bannister. I hold a hand to my erratic chest in an attempt to control it but who was I kidding? There were no steady heartbeats in the presence of Kim Namjoon.

His arms were close to bursting as they folded in front of his chest, head leaning against the rail as he smiles softly- or well...smiled.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask still startled and honestly slightly out of breath from how high I jumped.

"I'm so sorry," he apologises profusely, long legs carrying him into the honey-gold light that did his skin wonderful favours. I felt bad for making him feel bad, that was the Namjoon effect. He was angelic.

How can I tell him to go away by just being around he was hurting me?

"I was going to ask if I could join you but I think I'll just-"

He turns around and in a hurry and with a little too much eagerness I call him back:

"No, it's alright! You're not disturbing me."

"If you're sure."

He takes the seat opposite mine and suddenly it was a lot smaller in here than what I remembered it to be. It was darker too, a little warmer.

In my startled state, I didn't notice the book he carried in his hand, its size making the pages look minuscule until he opened it and began to read. I tried to look back to my own pages but they were blurry, panicked, all moving too close together and waving around like I was dehydrated and starved.

I couldn't concentrate when he was here.

The air was so thick I was choking on it but he looked so peaceful, so unbothered that it only strengthened my conclusion that he does not and will never feel anything for me. I pull the collar of my loose shirt subtly, letting in some emergency air to try and cool my emotions. But all this heat was coming from the inside.

This wasn't so tranquil anymore.

I just grab at the first thing I see. 1984, George Orwell.

"Lighthearted evening read huh?" I joke, smirking into my book at the surprise of his choice.

"Oh yeah, nothing makes me more relaxed than the thought of being constantly watched."

Was that aimed at...me?

I laugh anyway but it's half-hearted, the question crawling around in my brain if he wasn't as stupid as I assumed him to be by guessing that my painfully obvious feelings weren't obvious to him.

He goes back to his words, surely saying them in his head with unwavering narration not sweating through his clothes like I was or fidgeting, scratching his jaw or rereading paragraphs.

"Am I bothering you?"

Yes.

"No."

The way he looked over the edge of his book at me told me how unconvincing I was. Thankfully I didn't teach drama.

But there was something else.

The shape of his eyes had changed with his intention, sharpening and getting a shade darker. It was subtle but as someone who stared into them often, the change was significantly important. It was like he was... studying me, analyzing me like a book with a tilted head and pupils that trailed from my cosy socks to the fine hairs defying gravity on top of my head.

"Was it love?"

"Excuse me?" I immediately reply defensively, not sure what he was referring to. He was being so vague so...mysterious. It was frustrating in the best possible way but I still found myself getting a little irritated.

"Elizabeth and Darcy, did they love each other?" he nods to my book and my shoulders slump a little in stupidity, I sank like a dog that had been yelled at for peeing on the carpet.

I turned the book around again to look at the pale pink cover as if I hadn't seen it 12 times before. I wasn't sure why but the thing was about him that he made me do many things that I was incapable of explaining.

On the other hand, I was grateful I had read it before otherwise he would've ruined it. How did he know that I'd read it before?

"Above all pride and prejudices," I state factually but with lightness as if telling him how impossible it was to explain and it was just the way it was.

"Even if they did at one point hate each other?" Namjoon continues to almost interrogate me like I was a student, sweating in my little chair at his borderline arrogant dominance.

I wouldn't quite say...hate.

"Indeed, such emotions can blind people of character flaws and make them focus only on the good things."

I'm responding on autopilot, choosing to only make eye contact when I had looked away for too long since this conversation made me think of nothing but how in love with him I was. It was strange that it hurt the most when it was just me and him and not when I was alone on a Saturday night or even when I see couples in public.

It was the fact that we were alone, drowning in possibility but he spoke about a book and sat in the chair furthest from me.

"And what are Mr Darcy's redeeming qualities?"

Had he not read it?

I swallow, unsure where to begin and trying to think about the points I wrote in a paper years ago as an outline, something to say that made me sound really sophisticated and intelligent.

Something that made me sound like him.

"I don't think he's completely heartless at all. He may seem unapproachable to Elizabeth but it's the development that matters most."

"Unapproachable?"

His eyebrow lifts in astonishment, in...offence?

I think about all the times I have run away, many times into a wall spilling my coffee all over myself and one time even bruising my head.

"In the sense of intimidation... yes."

I had a feeling we weren't talking about the book anymore.

"And, what does Darcy do to cause such a development? Forgive me I haven't read it."

"You should. I don't mean to spoil it," I comment through a mumble, avoiding his question in fear of saying too much that I couldn't take back later.

"Go ahead."

"It's as if he's humbled by Elizabeth's rejection."

The R word.

"Oh? yet he persists?" his eyebrows jump again, the only visible part of his face other than his eyes and yet they were so expressive.

It told me everything but I understood nothing.

"He persists until they get married, have a lovely house, lots of dogs, horses and kids," I jokingly wave him off, making him let out a deep chuckle that I felt in my chest like the explosions of fireworks.

But I only huff. The thought of him settling down like that makes my stomach empty itself until I was entirely hollow on the inside. Like an Easter Egg.

I can't help but think about my insignificance really, in the end.

"True love," he continues to laugh it off, rejecting the concept whereas I was a bit bemused, caught up in the fantasy of getting to call someone like him mine.

"I'd say so."

We definitely weren't talking about the book anymore.

"Tragic true fucking awful love."

"Does it have to be so bad?" Namjoon asks me and I have to think for a worryingly long time about how to put this nicely.

Why was he bringing out so much honesty in me? I could just lie.

"In the books? No. Here? Always."

I look away and down to the pages again, the words meant nothing to me know, all just fuddy-duddy words in a completely foreign language. It was like I suddenly couldn't read.

"Well, I think Darcy's stupid."

Huh?

I put down the book.

"Sorry?"

He puts down his, revealing those pink thick lips, cheekbones and dimples that I know and love.

"I think he's very stupid for not realising the brilliance of Elizabeth Bennet sooner," Namjoon explains himself passionately, truly frustrated with the initial stupidity of a fictional character "He's wasted so much time pondering himself when he should've been pursuing this woman. These things don't wait around."

"I think she'd happily wait. She's waited this long," I would've shrugged if I wasn't too captured by this submission to eye contact. There was a reason I didn't look at him directly.

"She would be happy to know she doesnt have to wait anymore I'm sure."

Everything inside of me bubbles as if I had finally come to a boil, giddiness and a celebratory feeling taking over me but not quite my judgement. I couldn't let myself be carried away with my interpretation, after all, speculation and teasing was all this was.

"Don't do this to me."

Did I say that out loud?

The room gets colder as my tone automatically changes, warning him not to invade my emotions anymore with some explosive consonance.

"What am I doing?" He asks unsure but with that same sense of cold urgency, he wanted me to say it.

"You know what you do to me."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

And he unscrewed the lid.

"I've made myself quite clear I think, pacing, unsure whether to approach you like a madwoman, signing up for this trip despite the fact there's nothing I loathe more than long bus journeys and sugar-rushed teenagers just because of the possibility that I might get to spend one single insignificant second with you and convince you to love me."

I wipe my cheeks just in case the brewing tears that stung my eyes that already stung from exhaustion and staring at those pages, fell onto my cheeks. I didn't want to embarrass myself any further.

I'm afraid I've wasted too much of my time chasing someone who is doing everything in their power to abuse it."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some serious pillow screaming to do. Goodnight, Namjoon," I say a final farewell, more than prepared to finally end this chapter and experience life without the weight of impossibility.

Getting up with my book in hand, I dart for my bedroom.

Happy endings exist in stories, where they belong. Those things just don't happen to people like us.

"Wait!"

His urgency actually stopped me in my tracks since, despite the rawness of being vulnerable and rejected by him as I had predicted, that didn't change the fact I would do anything for him.

"I'm...I'm sorry," he shakes his head, unable to communicate. But his eyes glistened.

I roll my eyes at his cruelty, stopping me on my journey to getting over him just to rub some salt in the wound.

His hand surrounds my wrist, suffocating it and all the little parts underneath the skin in pure desperation. When I turned, his eyes changed again to what I feared to be pity.

"No, I mean... Fuck! Why can't I speak!" He exclaims in frustration with himself, free hand dragging his skin almost clean off his face and his hair right out of his scalp.

Did he just swear? Was Kim Namjoon speechless?

"I really don't have the energy for this sort of rejection right now. The last thing I wanted to do was- no that's a lie. I planned on telling you from the start of this trip I just hoped that maybe I was being too harsh with myself by expecting rejection," I whimper in awful self-pity, starting to feel life as we know it start to collapse in on itself and fall right on my chest piercing my heart.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

His hand lightens.

"Why didn't I tell my work colleague who I see professionally every day that I've been inexplicably in love with him for 2 years? Hmm, let's see..." I scratch my chin sarcastically, completely forgetting the fact I had also just told him-

"2 years?"

He wears his shock just like one of his tight t-shirts, handsomely and uncomfortably.

"Did I say that out loud too?" I awkwardly ask, silently praying that tonight never happened. There was that awful feeling in my body, running through my blood flow, that I'd get whenever I made a big decision and life was a little different now and I'd actually missed the life before.

At least suffering in silence meant I could see him every day.

"Shit," he curses as if he'd dropped some ketchup down a crisp white shirt.

"What?"

"I'm thinking we should talk about this," Namjoon nods through his thinking out loud, sweating hand still locked securely around my wrist with little to no intention of letting go "I mean we'll have to do dinner."

That was a leap.

My mouth parted, shaping something resembling a sentence despite the fact that nothing actually came out. My eyebrows were tangled together, unsure if he was just playing around.

"Naturally, we have to."

[nothing-but-dreamy]

MISSION: FAILED

Pairing: LEON KENNEDY x CHRIS REDFIELD x GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

Words: 2.357

Warnings: angst - fluff; mention of wounds

Synopsis: While the boys were on a mission, YN was on their own. An easy standart mission - and still something went wrong. Now, YN has to deal with the aftermath of their decision as the guys come back home.

"Holy sh- fuck!", you breathed in shock, watching how the Tyrant grabbed the rocket launcher to aim into the wrong direction. You raised your arms, waving them through the air to beckon him into your position, "Bite my ass, you motherfu-"

An explosion, as loud as hundred bangers, was shaking the district of the town you had your mission in. Windows were breaking, debris were flying around and the night got illuminated as if a sun had been exploded.

***

"I'm so looking forward to a hot shower.", Leon groaned while rubbing the back of his aching neck as he and Chris left the airfield.

"My plan? Greeting YN, a hot shower and falling straight into bed to sleep one week through.", Chris said, completely exhausted, rolling with his right shoulder where he had pulled a muscle after a long fight.

"YN... Yeah...", Leon breathed dreamingly and smiled softly about the image of you he had in mind suddenly, "You think they’re already back from their mission?", he asked as he realized neither of them had heard anything of you.

"Well... I'm sure they are-"

"Redfield! Kennedy!", an agent called out while running after the two men to give Chris the cellphone he was carrying.

While Chris answered the call, Leon waited patiently and listened. But the longer the call lastest the more irritated Leon became. Mostly, because he just heard your name and saw Chris' reaction about whatever got said. The questions Chris asked weren't very calming as well. As Chris said 'And how are they doing?', Leon became nervous.

Chris hung up and stood there facing Leon with his back to find the right way to tell him the news. But Chris knew, there was no easy way, "YN, they ... they had some troubles during their last mission..."

*

"Whoa! Leon, slow the fuck down!", Chris called out and clawed on the handle of the passenger seat above his head while he also seeked hold on the dashboard with his other hand.

But Leon ignored him and drove - no he flew - down the streets in high-speed. Chris was glad that it was already late enough that barely someone was on the streets. Yet, Chris was still concerned, "Leon, I'm serious! You kill us both if you keep driving this reckless! And that won't be helpful for YN as well.", he said and was glad to see that it had worked. Leon slowed down a little bit but he still drove frighteningly.

Ten minutes later - for a way of usually twenty minutes - Leon stopped the car in front of your apartment building and both Chris and Leon jumped out of the vehicle to run up the few stairs. Quickly, Chris opened the door and ran through the rooms to search you. First, he looked into the bedroom, expecting you there and as he didn’t find you there, Chris stormed through your living room into your kitchen.

Shocked, you stood next to the fridge with a glass in your hand, almost dropping it, as you got faced by the two tall guys you called your boyfriends who were staring at you with a mixed expression of worry, concern and anger. You had no idea who told them what kind of information but you were sure the sight of you must be scary.

On your forehead was a big scratch which got stitched several times and patched up. Your left arm was in a sling because your wrist was fractured and your shoulder had been dislocated. You just wore a loose fit, cropped shirt and boxer briefs which showed off the thick bandage around your rib cage because three ribs were broken and one got a dangerous crack. Your right foot was also bandaged because of your sprained ankle.

Before you could say something, Chris stepped forward, pointing at you with his forefinger, "You! You should be in bed! Why are you even up?", he demanded to know with a booming, angry voice, eyebrows drawn together and all.

Instinctively, you stepped back, bumping against the kitchen counter which let you flinch by the pain that got shot through your body, "I- I was thirsty and-"

"Thirsty? Look at you! You can barely stand on your own feet!", Chris called out, a bit too raging for his own liking as he saw your fearful expression but he couldn’t stop himself.

Leon stepped forward, trying to stop the taller man but Chris was already on fire. Chris shook Leon's hand from his shoulder, stepping even closer to you, "You know what they told us? That you were fighting against a Tyrant! A Tyrant! Your mission was to infiltrate and to gather information! Not to fight against a FUCKING TYRANT!"

"Please, Chris, calm down.", you said softly, trying to sound reassuringly while you were hissing with pain as you noticed how painful it was to speak louder than just a whisper.

Chris saw it and somehow, instead of calming down, to see you in pain fueled his temper even more, "I shall calm down? You could be dead now and I SHALL CALM DOWN? You know, I got informed that you triggered the Tyrant to aim for you. You did that because of- what, huh?", he asked and stepped threateningly closer, "I don't get it! Why are you always so cocky in extremely dangerous situations?"

Your eyes flickered back and forth between his. You never had seen Chris this angry before at least, not directed at you. You swallowed thickly by the sight of his fuming eyes, "I- I was... I tried to-"

Chris leant even closer, towering above your meager figure in front of him, "Yeah? I'm listening to your flimsy excuses! You tried- what?", Chris grunted through gritted teeth and even if he saw you flinching from him once again, he couldn't change to be this angry.

Leon saw your scared eyes and the pain that shook your body. He stepped between you and Chris to push the latter away from you, "Chris, calm down a bit, will you?"

Very reluctantly, with his eyes still glued at you, Chris followed Leon's request and left the kitchen to step out on the balcony for some fresh air.

You took a deep breath, "Thanks, Leon-", but you stopped as you saw Leon's angry expression. Obviously, this Tango was still not over for you.

"Don’t worry, I won't scream at you but you should know that I'm not amused about this, as well. You not just failed your mission. You also put yourself into danger. What were you thinking, huh? I read your mission file. There was nothing complicated on it.", Leon said serious.

Leon never screamed. Most of the time, he was composed even if he was upset. He was angry in his own way and this was almost as worse as the screaming from Chris. Screaming was a temperament that ran free. But Leon’s calmness even if he was angry was scary in another way because you never knew what he really felt. You couldn’t look behind his facade. It would be easier for you if he would scream like Chris did it but in the end both men were too different. Which was the fact why you loved both so much. You looked at the ground, avoiding Leon’s eyes, "I know. Both of you have all the rights to be mad at me.", you whispered meekly.

Leon stepped forward, he wanted to touch you but he feared to hurt you with all the scratches and bruises on your body that pained him to see, "YN, we... We're not mad. We're... We were scared, alright? As Chris got the call, they just told him that your mission failed and that you are serious injured.", he admitted low with a concerned expression. Softly, Leon cupped your face with one hand, guiding you to look at him, "Chris cares so much about you. We both do. We both love you, YN. You can't put yourself in danger just because you want some fun.", he said softly.

You nodded slowly, leaning against his warm touch, "I just... I just did it to distract the Tyrant from my teammates. They were the ones in real danger. I was kinda safe behind a half ruined wall. Well, at least, I thought I was. As the Tyrant fired the rocket launcher, I tried to jump aside but, well, you see the outcome of this idea. My safe hideout fell onto me.", you said with a shake of your head, still not sure how you had survived this nightmarish trip at all.

Leon, who chuckled softly, stroked over your cheek with his thumb, "You and Chris are resembling each other more than you think when it comes to such stupid ideas to safe others. I guess that's why he's so scared because you do things as he would do."

"Yeah, I know. Maybe... You think I should talk with him?", you asked carefully, gnawing on your lower lip. You hated fights mostly with the boys and you were eager to change that back into harmony again.

Leon smiled softly, just glad that you were still in their life before he leant forward and kissed you caringly but strongly to show you all the admiration he held for you. As he left your lips again, he nodded, "Yes. Go to him. I'm sure he will have cooled down by now."

**

Chris stood on your balcony, leaning against the barricade with his arms. His eyes were glued at the horizon, watching the city's skyline and the starry night sky at the same time. He heard you stepping out on the balcony with your naked feet. He felt your presence next to him but he couldn't look at you. He still felt angry and ... scared. Slowly, Chris kneaded his hands to channel his temper somewhere else than into your face again.

You watched Chris' impressive, broad frame against the dark sky. His profile was the one you could stare at for hours without getting bored. But you also could tell that he was still upset. So, you hobbled slowly next to his side, leaning against his muscled arm to rest your head there, "I'm sorry, Chris. I really am.", you whispered, looking at the same view as he did.

“You were reckless.”, Chris pointed out without looking at you.

Smiling, you watched how a soft breeze tousled his soft brown hair and because you had missed the feeling of his strands, you raked your fingers slowly through it, “I had a reason.”

“Oh, yeah? Which one?”, Chris asked, enjoying your affection with closed eyes.

“I had to help my comrades. They were in danger because of the Tyrant. We got discovered and as the Tyrant followed us, I had to do something. I was in a safe hideout. The Tyrant hadn’t seen me. But they weren’t. I couldn’t just watch and do nothing.”, you explained softly but serious.

Finally, Chris looked at you, all the anger was erased from his eyes and left was just sadness and worries as he saw your wounds once again, “Don't do this. Don’t play this card. That's not fair.”, he said, stroking a strand of your hair out of your face.

You smiled broadly, “Why not? Just because I know you would do the same?”

Chris chuckled low before he looked back into your eyes, “Yeah ... Don't use it against me to justify your action.”

“Well, at least you're not mad at me anymore.”, you pointed out as you saw the small, lovely smile on his lips.

Chris cupped your face carefully with both hands, trying to avoid hurting you, “I was scared. Not really mad. YN, you... You can't leave us alone. I don't wanna lose you. We both don't wanna lose you.”, he said while staring into your eyes.

With your free hand, you stroked softly over his chest, “I know. Chris, I... None of you won't get rid of me so easily.”

“You promise me that, honey?”

“I do, Chris.”, you whispered before he kissed you longingly which showed you how scared he had been before. As he leant back again, you took his hand in yours, knotting your fingers with his to bring him back inside where Leon was already waiting, happy to see that all waves had calmed down again.

And then, the caring-hell broke loose. Both guys were busy taking care of you no matter how tired they were and how often you said you would be fine. Without listening to you, they put you back to bed. Chris got you the water you wanted while Leon ordered pizza.

While waiting, Chris took a shower and Leon watched out that you wouldn’t leave the bed again and told you about their mission. As Chris was done, Leon took a shower and you rolled with your eyes because then, Chris watched out for you. With the only difference that Chris made you laugh which was painful but worth it to see this broad, tough guy in a better mood again.

The pizza arrived as Leon also left the shower and as everyone was sated and tired, the boys brought the stuff into the kitchen just to find you were fast asleep in the middle of the bed as they were coming back. With soft smiles, they watched you.

"They’re so sweet when they’re sleeping.", Leon said grinning.

"Yeah, because they’re can't do anything stupid then.", Chris admitted and matched Leon’s grin.

Both guys crawled next to you, carefully cuddling against you to make sure they weren't hurting you but at the same time, they felt your presence. While Leon’s arm laid protectively over your stomach, stroking your skin softly with his thumb, Chris grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers while his head rested softly on your shoulder.

You awoke by their soft touches. With a sleepy smile you watched pleased how these tough guys were sleeping peacefully next to you. You thanked once again to have them in your life and during your next mission, maybe, you would watch out more to keep your promise you had given to Chris.

[brittlecakes92]

Kabal x reader

I couldn’t think of a good title for this so.. you know!! Just a little background, I know a lot of this is just going to seem randomly thrown together in terms of plot.. but does Smut really need a plot? Well, kinda. Just enjoy the ride! Lol It is a long one folks!! Thank you for reading, it means a lot! The hum of the fluorescent lights filled the silence in the small room you and Kabal were seated in. You could understand why Kabal of all people would be in an interrogation room of the special forces, but you, that went beyond you. Kabal did his best to keep you out of getting mixed up with his work detail. You looked over at the man in question a scowl on your face, for more then one reason. Tapping your foot out of impatience, and honestly not wanting be close to him right now your heart couldn't help but thump faster when he looked up jos eyes connecting with yours. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting across his knees. He let out a sigh before he spoke, annoyance written all over his face, annoyance and exhaustion. The on going fight between you both was taking its toll on him.  "Are you still mad at me, it's been a week." His voice came out calm, a little hoarse. You raised your eyebrows at him, you parted your lips before glaring at him.  "She sent you three nudes, that you so happened to open and not tell her  to stop. So yes, I would like to think I am still mad at you."  Who is the mysterious girl in question you ask? None other then Seerena. You knew Kabal pined after her for a while, but you thought all that stopped when you two got together. She did nothing but use him, lead him on, and put him in very bad and very dangerous situations. Kabal let out an irritated sigh before straightening up in his seat. "It's not like that at all, I-" He was interrupted from trying to explain himself for the umpteenth time by the rusted screech of metal indicating that someone was entering the room. Both of you turned your attention to the entrance when you heard the scrap of the metal door slide across the concrete floor. A blonde woman, that Kabal immediately rolled his eyes and scoffed at entered the room, followed by two operatives, armed with  riffles and keeping their eyes trained on a smug looking Kabal. Sonya walked to the table that sat in the center of the room, slapping a manila folder down on it before scooting back the chair and taking a seat. Kabal raised his brow at the blonde in question, his face stony.   "Yeah, I'm not to thrilled with this either Kabal." She spoke, giving the same amount of disdained that was given to her.  "Why are we here then? I have much better things to do then waste my time with you trying to get hot juicy gossip from me." He shot back, crossing his arms out of annoyance. Sonya opened up the folder before sliding it across the table, resting her elbows on the cold metal before lacing her fingers together, resting her chin on them.  Kabal reached out for a photo, giving a sarcastic laugh at the imagine of the man. He knew very well who was in the picture. It was Simons, a competitor to the black dragon. Throwing down the picture he gave an annoyed sigh.  "It would seem we have found somebody worse than the black dragon- Sonya stated sarcastically- Seems he is trying to place his mark on the market, and doing whatever he can to out do you goons." She stated, smirking at the annoyed look that claimed Kabals face. "What does that have to do with us?" He asked curtly. Kabal was not in the mood to give out any free information, he didn’t want you involved and he didn't want to get involved in something that had nothing to do with him. "I can't believe the words that are about to come out of my mouth, we need your help Kabal. Yours and Y/n." Kabals mood turned dangerous at the mention of your name. You had nothing to do with any of this, and he didn't want you dragged into anything unnecessary, his quick movement causing the operatives to aim their guns at him. Sonya raised a hand, commanding the to stand down.  You raised a brow at Kabal before turning your confused face to Sonya. Your gaze turned to the men that finally put down their guns and you let out a breath you were holding. You knew Kabal could hold his own, but you didn’t have to see it. "We need both of your help to infiltrate a gathering and collect intel." She started. Kabal scoffed before rolling his eyes.  "Why would we do that, exactly?" He and Blade weren't exactly on good terms, enemies would be a better way to describe their relationship. "Well, for starters you wouldn't draw too much attention going into a ratty party like this. And two, y/n isn't involved in any of this, which is a very good thing for us. She can get inside without too much suspicion."  "You've lost your fucking mind. Like hell I would let her do that!" Kabals voice raising and the chair scooted back harshly against the concrete floor. You looked between the both of them before speaking up.  "What's the plan exactly?" Both of them turned their attention to you this time, Kabal looked lost at your question, his face falling as he squinted at you and opened his mouth to ask if you’ve lost your mind.  "You can't be serious. This guy is bad news, this isn’t something you need to volunteer yourself for." He started and you rolled your eyes at him before turning your attention to Sonya.  "It seems our new friend like to make trades, this one specifically is in the human trafficking trade. We need you to go into the party, We have someone planned to escort you in as your date that can get all the intel that we need, and Kabal will accompany you and act as your bodyguard. We can't exactly enter, so we will be ready and waiting with back up from a safe distance."  She took a breath moving the file closer to your hand. Opening it you began to scan through the information and the pictures. "This is him?" You asked sliding the picture across the table towards her. She nodded her head, raising a brow in the process. Kabal was seething with anger at this point. Being ignored by you, then getting yourself involved in something reckless. He did it, but he could also protect himself. You on the other hand, the thought alone made him mad to even think about if something happened. You took a minuet before giving an answer, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I'll do it." Kabal clenched his fists in anger, turning to you when everyone left the room. "Have you lost it? I know your upset with me right now, but this goes beyond the point of getting back at me" He left his seat, walking over to where you sat, hovering over you at this point. "You lost the right to have any say after your little texting fiasco." You reminded him before standing up and moving to push past him. Reaching out he grabbed a hold of your arm, holding you in place. "I told you it was nothing. She sent me the messages. I would never entertain the thought. When are you going to stop holding this over my head" He started his voice sounding hurt that you wouldn't let this go.  "Well, you should have told her the first time she sent you a message, instead of having me feel like I am not enough." Kabals eyes widened in shock, his heart hurt hearing that, Jerking your arm out of his hold you pushed past him before walking out of the door .Kabal wasn't an idiot, he knew he fucked up, He didn’t want you to ever feel the way you were. The tension between you two had grown so thick you could cut it with a knife, and he had to relieve it before anything happened. Later that night.. You finished fixing your hair when Sonya  entered the room you were occupying to get ready. "I wanted to thank you for doing this. I know we are asking a lot, especially for the person we are asking you to help out with.  We know if  something gets bad Kabal would get you out no matter what." Sonya stated you turned to look at her before giving a small smile.  Sonya raised a brow at you before leaning back against the wall.  "If it helps."  She wasn't stupid, and could tell something was bothering you/ "What did he do?" She asked, moving to sit in the empty chair across from you, arms crossed. You let out a sigh before telling her about the Seerena incident. The nudes, and the fight that happened between the both of you. "Kabal may be stupid -Sonya started before raising her brows and giving a disbelieved look- but when it comes to you he is protective and knows he has a good woman, I don't see him doing anything to jeopardize what he has with you" She shook her head before standing up  and heading to the door.  "I can't believe I just took up for him of all people." She mumbled before leaving the room. Shaking your head you took a deep breath thinking she had a point, but it still hurt. Maybe it was time to let it go and talk to him. Taking a breath, you put in your earrings before standing up and giving yourself a once over. You needed to talk to him before everything started.  Kabal straightened out his tie and cleared his throat, watching as Sonya and was talking to a man that he assumed was the person that was going to escort you. He was tall, black hair, piercing blue eyes. He was good looking, and it made the agitation he felt even worse. He glared at him, his arms crossed over his chest. Paying little mind to the conversation at hand, Kabal kept his eyes on the hallway, waiting for you to come out. The man approached him. "So, you are the bodyguard for tonight?" Kabal raised a brow and looked to the right to stare at him from the corner of his eyes. "My priority is my girl that you are escorting. You are nothing more to me then that. If anything goes sour, your ass is grass." Kabal wasn't in the mood to hold a conversation with the man and he turned his eyes back to the hall. The man that would be escorting you stood straight, his hands in front of him. the left hand resting on his right wrist as he waited.   when he heard the man let out a low whistle, he slowly turned his head towards him, thoughts of his murder on his mind. Kabal turned back to see you, his breath catching in his throat as he saw you standing in the entrance way. He slowly uncrossed his arms as he took in your form. You wore a black velvet halter top dress, with a slit that ran down to your sternum. Your hair was put up into a sleek bun, your bangs swept to the left of your forehead, falling above your eyebrow. The way Kabals heart began to race, and the hungry look in his eyes when he made contact with yours, was all you needed to feel the same emotions he felt in the instance. Taking a breath you walked into the room towards Kabal, but stopped short when the man had stepped in front of you. Taking your hand into his, he brought it up towards his face, pressing his lips to the back of it in a gentle kiss. "I didn't realize they picked such a breath taking woman for me to accompany." Kabal wanted to take his hook sword to the man and make quick work of him. His blood boiling with him ogling you like that. You were his, and he wasn’t  afraid to let that man know.  "Hands off, pretty boy." He warned grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.  "Play nicely." You commented, placing a hand on Kabals forearm, making him release the man. When he let him go, you moved to stand between them running your hand up his chest, before interlocking your arms with the mans. "I'm sorry about that." Straightening out his suit he cut his eyes at Kabal, before placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you away to where Sonya and the rest of the special forces waited. Kabal gave you an incredulous look, were you trying to get under his skin. He wanted to show you what happens when you tease him, he wanted to pound that lesson into you and make sure you wouldn't forget it any time soon. The though alone sending blood to his cock that started to strain against his pants. Sonya began to explain the mission and what everyone was supposed to be doing. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you felt Kabals eyes on you. Looking out the corner of your eyes you could see him, looking a you like a hungry animal who had been starved. The look along causing your breath to hitch in your throat. The feelings that started to blossom in your stomach, the tingle of your vulva making your rub your thighs together to get some relief from the throb that started. Kabal knew that look all too well, he knew you body like that back of his hand, he knew the effect he had on you, one look getting you frustrated. It had been a long week of nothing but pent up frustration for the both of you, and Kabal was ready to cut it down. He thought about all the ways he wanted to make you scream, to hear you pant and beg for him. He ran his tongue on the inside of his cheek before trying his best to listen to what Sonya was saying. More pressing matters took his mind over the mission at hand. He adjusted the white collar of his shirt before clearing his throat and shifting, he was starting to get impatient.  Kabal glanced over and watched as the man started to lower his hand closer to your ass. The audacity made Kabal want to cut his hands clean off before anyone knew what happened. Ready to teach the guy a lesson on not to touch what is his. He wanted to take you right here and now to prove his point. His agitation turned into antsyness as he waited for Sonya to finish giving the briefing. You and your escort had a vehicle parked out front waiting to take you to your destination. Kabal was to ride up front to keep an eye on the ride there. You could feel anxiety sit on your stomach, this was about to happen. You didn't have time to think before you were being whisked to the vehicle. You peered behind you to see Kabal watching you before he fell into step behind you. The chill of the night hit you, and out of instinct your brought your arms closer to your body, shrinking into yourself to get some heat. You heard the click of your door opening, and sliding into the seat, you pushed up with your hands to adjust and get into a more comfortable position. When you heard your door close, confusion crossed your features when you heard the other door close as well. Turning your head you didn't have time to process what was happening when you felt warm lips quickly claim yours, a hand caressed your cheek, holding you in place. You pushed against the man, when he let up relief flooded your face when you realized it was Kabal. Before any words could be spoken your balled the collar of his shirt into your fists and you pulled him towards you once more, your lips claiming his. Kabal towers over you, caging you with his body. You could feel his left hand start to trail from the curve of your breast all the way down to your thigh. Your hand reaching up to rest on his cheek and you both refused to break the connection from each other. You moaned into the kiss, conveying all the hunger you had for him. Kabal Squeezed your thigh before pulling it straight out, resting it across his lap, causing you to lay down to get in a more comfortable position. Kabal broke the kiss first, both of you panting for breath as his eyes bore into your with a hunger you had grown to love. You tilted your head up, trying to bring your lips back together, your mouth falling open when you felt him move his hand to the inner part of your thigh, the sensation alone making you wetter then you already were. You could feel his finger tip ghost between your slit, a low groan leaving his lips. "No panties baby girl?" The husky tone in his voice caused chills to explode up your arms. Grabbing the calf of your left leg he brought it up until your knee bent, never breaking eye contact with you. you felt as his fingers rolled over your clit, removing your hand from his cheek you quickly covered your mouth, your other hand trying to find purchase on the closed window frame. Your stomach already tightening up and the sensation that set your blood on fire. Kabal was having none of it, he wanted to hear you sing your praises to him. Moving his finger to your opening he inserted his middle and ring finger into you, curling his fingers up wards with each thrust in. 'Fuck' It came out in a wanton voice, your fingers on the door clenching, desperate to hold on to anything, the moans leaving your mouth causing Kabal to become even more transfixed on you. He wanted more. Kabal not able to get over the needy look on your face, Sensual and desperate for him, it made him work his fingers faster. Your body writhes below him and he never brakes eye contact with you as he worked you over with his fingers, you could feel his erection push against the curve of your ass, wiggling it on him for good measure. You closed your eyes and threw your head back, your heart racing so quick you thought it was going to burst. You were so close, your whole body tingling with the need for release. The sensation becoming so intense you reached down you grabbed the wrist of the fingers inside of you, trying to find anything to hold onto for the release that was coming closer and closer to wracking your body. You moved to sit up and Kabal pushed you back down, removing your hand from his. He shook his head, his free hand moving up to rest around your neck, giving a slight squeeze, he leaned down until your noses brushed together. "Not a good idea princess, you are going to ride this out." You nodded your head and your breath started to become more labored, Kabal ghosted his lips over yours and you tried to lean up to connect them. Your hand moving up and down his chest before trailing lower. You wanted him to feel good too, desperate to reach his throbbing cock. When you finally found the delicious prize you were looking for, you began to rub it, getting a breathy moan out of Kabal, he took a deep shuttering breath, before moving the hand from your neck to your breast, taking it out he squeezed it before running his tongue around the bud. His teeth clenched around it, he started to lick it in quick strokes, before sucking on your nipple, pulling his head back, you heard it 'pop' when he removed it from his mouth. "Cum for me, I need you come for Daddy." You nodded your head, and Kabals name left your mouth as a mantra. Your toes curled, your leg staying open only from Kabal holding it, Cupping Kabals cheek you brought his lips to your, holding the sides of his face with both of your hands, taking deep breaths to calm your heart. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you pushed Kabal back so his shoulders were touching the seat. He watched you with a raised brow as you worked your leg out from behind him, and moved in the cramped area to straddle him. Grabbing the flaps of his dress coat you pulled him forward until you nose brushed against his. "It's Daddies  turn for release now." Pushing up on your knees you reached down and made quick work of his button, sliding your hands into the now opened space, your fingers made room to wrap around the warm, smooth flesh of his cock. You twisted your hand carefully, watching as the small movement alone made Kabal throw his head back, resting it against the back seat and his started up, dazed before closing his eyes and taking a shaky breath. You tugged at his pants trying to get them down, Kabal realizing your struggle for the moment sat up, quickly reaching down to help you pull them to the top of his knees. Moving the slit of your dress to the side, you guided his erect cock to your entrance, lowering down, you stopped when his head pushed past your lips, kissing your entrance. Bracing your hands on his shoulder you drew Kabals attention to you. "Who's is it Kabal?" Your voice taking a serious tone as your eyes, lidded with lust, bore into his. He knew what you were playing at, and if this is what put it to an end, and the way for you believed him, he was going to do anything, if that meant worshiping your body, praising you, and telling you what you both already knew, he would do it.  "All yours.." His voice was husky. He closed his eyes and breathed deep through his nose as you took him in more. "Whos pussy drives you wild?" You slowly gyrated your hips, Kabals head flinging back before he could composed himself and lifted it back up to face you. "Yours.. only yours baby girl." His hands moved down to grip your hips, his thumbs causing a tickling sensation on them as he moved them up and down to keep himself focused. You sunk lower, his girth stretching you out deliciously, the sensation causing your lips to fall open as your rolled your head back. You brought your eyes back to him. His eyes were pleading with you, he needed to move, to be bottomed out inside of you. He couldn't handle this, he needed to be deep into you. "Could Seerena ever do this for you?" Kabal moved his hands down to cup your ass, his forearms on the small of your back pulling you closer towards him. He shook his head no. "Never.." Before he could say anything else, you caught his lips in a hungry kiss as you took him completely. Catching your breath you began to bounce in his lap. Leaning forward Kabal nipped at your collar bone, his tongue trailing in between the valley of your breasts. Your hands moved to the back of Kabals head, your fingers lightly grasping onto him as you rode him. Kabal watched you as you took charge, his chest tightened with pride, you were a goddess that chose him. You were more than enough for him. He helped pull you down, timing your motions so he could met it with his thrusts. “Kabal” His name came out in a whiny moan. His brow furrowed before he wrapped an arm around the small of your back. Reaching back, you cupped and began to roll Kabals balls. Your plan was to drive him wild, to remind him of what he has. Kabal was so close, his balls were starting to tingle. Leaning forward, he places sloppy kisses on your neck as his release began coming faster and faster.  "I'm about to cum.." He started, moving to lift you up. You placed your hands on his wrists, stopping him and drawing his hazel eyes to look at you. "I want you to finish in me." The words alone made him lose it. Kabal leaned forward and rested his head on your chest as he let out a few breathy moans, trying to calm himself down, his cock twitched with each squirt of his load filling you up. You rode him slowly, clenching him with your walls, helping milk him for everything he had. Leaning forward you rested your forehead on Kabals, eyes closed as you started to slow your breathing, exhaustion starting to lay claim to you. Sitting up, you cupped Kabals cheeks before you kissed him, much gentler this time, he kissed you back, not wanting to break the moment. Kabal moved the pad of his thumb back and forth over your cheek bone. You cupped his before leaning forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.  "You know the texts meant nothing to me. You, you are the real fucking deal to me. I would never fuck that up." You knew he was telling the truth, and you had to admit your anger got the best of you. "I know.. I'm sorry, I should have just listened to you when you were telling me to begin with." Kabal brushed your hair out of your eyes before he lifted you up, careful to not make a mess of your dress. Rolling his eyes he let out a loud sigh before tucking himself back away. He turned his head to look at you a lop sided grin on his face. You sat sideways facing him, your left leg resting on your right, your head resting on the seat before you raised your brow, waiting for him to voice what was on his mind. "I hope that warm up didn't tire you out, because I'm keeping you up all night after this mission." Rolling your eyes, you sat up, resting on your knees as you leaned over him, his right hand coming up to rest loosely on your ass. You gave him a quick kiss, a smirk on your lips before you pulled back.  "Please do."  @apocalypticwafflekitten