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august-anon · 3 years

Note

Here's a dialogue prompt if you want it... "More please?" with ler!Kravitz and lee!Taako?

I did not really edit this, please be gentle with me lol. Thank you for being so patient, I hope it was worth the wait! Thank you so much for the prompt!

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Ask and Receive

Fandom: The Adventure Zone

Ship(s): Taakitz

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Taako/Ler!Kravitz

Word Count: 1631 words

Summary: Kravitz is a bit too smart for Taako's own good. Taako should know by now that he can't keep secrets from Kravitz.

[ao3 link]

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It wasn’t fair how smart Kravitz was, in Taako’s extremely humble opinion.

It seemed like he could see through anything and everything. He had managed to dig up almost all of Taako’s secrets and slip through all his lies, white or not, and he had done it with such grace and gentleness that Taako couldn’t even be mad at him. In fact, it was almost disgustingly romantic, how he could see past Taako’s walls so easily.

But there were still a few secrets Taako held closely to his chest. A few secrets from their hundred years of plane-hopping, a few secrets he promised friends he’d keep (and as much of an asshole Taako knew he was, he kept his promises), and a few secrets of his own that he couldn’t bear to part with just yet.

Most of which were just painfully silly.

And one of which, Taako was beginning to think was more trouble than it was worth to keep.

A guy had cravings, after all. Cravings that Kravitz could easily solve with a few wiggling fingers and a handful of teasing words, or vice versa on some days. And it wasn’t like Kravitz had never tickled him, or that he had never tickled Kravitz, but it was always painfully brief. It left him feeling more starved than if he hadn’t had the playful contact at all.

But Taako was nothing if not prideful. There was nothing that would get him to admit it.

Well, almost nothing.

Because Kravitz was smart, as previously stated, and unfairly so. Kravitz picked up on Taako’s behavior. Kravitz was good at learning what made Taako tick. It was only natural that Kravitz would pick up on his little quirk eventually, try as he might to hide it.

So when Kravitz pulled back from his most recent tickle-attack (that Taako may or may not have deliberately provoked him into), eyeing Taako with a calculating look, Taako knew he was in trouble.

“I’m not so sure I should reward you for bad behavior,” Kravitz said.

Taako swallowed insteading of jumping straight into his defense, trying to keep himself from stuttering nervously. “Reward? You think that torture is a reward?” He asked.

Kravitz frowned, though there was a glint in his eye and one of his dimples was jumping. “I suppose I read your reactions wrong, then. Though, if it really is torture for you, I won’t do it anymore. I’ll have to find another playful punishment for you.”

A wounded noise escaped Taako before he could contain it. He slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, and felt his cheeks flush. Kravitz looked down at him and raised an eyebrow.

“That is what you want, isn’t it, Taako?” He said. “I wouldn’t want to torture you.”

Taako pressed his lips together in a thin line, huffing through his nose. He had just dug his own grave. Now he had two options: tell Kravitz the truth, or live the rest of his days under this lie and never get tickled by his boyfriend again.

And oh, how he wanted to be tickled by Kravitz. He had musician’s fingers, long and nimble. They could do wicked things to Taako, things that he spent hours daydreaming about. Taako watched as they tapped in a staccato rhythm against Kravitz’s knee, teasing and tempting. Kravitz knew exactly what he was doing.

But Taako was a stubborn elf. If his secret was going to be out, it was going to be out on his terms. He would not blush at Kravitz’s teasing. He was not giving in. It was simply… time to show his hand, so to speak. So Taako jutted out his chin, defiant and proud in the falsest of ways, and refused to hide behind his hands as he so desperately wanted to. He let his fingers twist into his skirt, the only outward sign of his anxiety, to keep his hands firmly in his lap.

“I don’t hate it,” Taako eventually managed to force out.

Kravitz raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So you lied to me?”

Taako bit his lip. “Just a little.”

Kravitz crossed his arms, eyebrow still infuriatingly raised. “I’m not sure I should reward you for that behavior, either.”

Taako deflated, slumping into the couch and whining. He finally gave in, bringing his hands up to cover his flushing face, though he knew his red ears would give him away. He heard Kravitz chuckle and he curled into himself even further.

“Oh, come now, dear, don’t be like that. Maybe if you ask nicely, you’ll get what you want.”

Taako groaned and slipped further down the couch. He felt Kravitz shift on the couch, and Taako assumed he had turned toward Taako expectantly. Taako swallowed his pride.

“More, please?”

“More what, dear?”

Taako’s hands flew off his face. “Goddammit, Krav, just tickle me!”

Kravitz huffed. “I should make you ask nicely, but…”

Before Taako could process it, Kravitz had pulled his legs up so he was lying lengthwise on the couch and straddled his lap to pin him. Taako yelped and raised his hands in defense, but Kravitz quickly grabbed them and pulled them off to the side, out of the way. Taako’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at Kravitz.

Kravitz smirked. “Now that we’re past that stage of things, why don’t you tell me where you’d like to be tickled?”

Taako choked, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. Kravitz’s smirk stretched into a grin and a shiver went down Taako’s spine.

“Well? I can’t tickle you unless you tell me.”

Taako desperately wished he could cover his face. His ears flicked in embarrassment as he wiggled and squirmed under Kravitz, tugging on his captive arms. He had no escape.

Then again, he did ask for this.

“Stomach?” He practically whispered.

Kravitz’s free hand immediately travelled to his belly, untucking his shirt and slipping under it without hesitation. Taako was squealing before Kravitz’s hand even touched down. His body jolted when Kravitz started scratching at his stomach, his struggling and tugging on his arms getting even more weak.

Taako was a wizard, okay. He couldn’t be expected to break out of Kravitz’s grip, and especially not under these circumstances.

“You’re adorable like this,” Kravitz said over his laughter. “I don’t know why you tried to hide it for so long.”

Taako wanted to tell Kravitz to shut up, but he was sure that would earn him another bout of I shouldn’t reward you for that, so he wisely kept his mouth shut. Metaphorically, at least. Physically, his mouth was open in a bright, giggly grin, and he had no hope of keeping it shut any time soon.

Taako half-wished he could roll off the edge of the couch, but Kravitz’s legs kept him firmly in place. He writhed like a worm under the single hand Kravitz had on his stomach, the touch just dancing along the line of “too light.” The sparky, zinging sensations could be delicious in their own way, of course, but they were a very specific kind of torture, and Taako wasn’t sure if he could handle that on top of all the teasing. Then, Kravitz’s touch lightened even further as he wiggled his fingers against Taako’s lower belly, and Taako arched his back with a high-pitched squeal.

“No no no!” Taako squealed, kicking his legs. “Please, please!”

Kravitz laughed above him. “What? I thought you wanted this!”

“Too light!” Taako cried out.

Kravitz laughed again, only lightening his touch further. “What, dear? Can’t take it?”

Taako’s giggles were frantic and bubbly and borderline hysterical. It was absolutely wonderful, but he could hardly stand it. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin with how badly it tickled.

“More, please!” Taako shrieked, barely capable of words with all the sensations zinging around in his brain.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Kravitz said. “Pick a new spot.”

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), Taako’s brain was beyond fried and distracted. Stupidly, he couldn’t help but blurt out his worst weakness.

“Ribs!”

Taako went from bubbly giggles to shrieking cackles in a matter of seconds. He arched his back, trying instinctively to buck Kravitz off of him with no success. Not that he necessarily wanted to succeed.

Kravitz’s blunt nails scratched against each rib on one side, while his fingers gently vibrated in between them on the other. The conflicting sensations wreaked havoc on Taako’s nerves. Tears of mirth sprung to Taako’s eyes as he cackled and he tugged fruitlessly on his arms to try and pin them to his sides.

“How’s that?” Kravitz asked, and though his tone was teasing, Taako knew he meant the question genuinely.

Taako could only nod in response. It was perfect. It sated the hunger that had been under his skin for so long, and Taako could practically feel the sparks of joy shooting through his chest. Or maybe that was just the ticklish jolts consuming his entire ribcage.

It was a few more long minutes before Kravitz slowed his fingers, releasing Taako’s wrists to reach up and wipe away his laughter-induced tears while his other hand continued gently skittering around his torso. The light tickling wasn’t quite so unbearable this time, at least not as a cool-down. If he kept at it for too long, Taako was sure he’d be squirming and begging again in no time.

“How are you doing?” Kravitz asked, and Taako opened his eyes to see Kravitz’s large grin.

Taako took a few deep breaths before saying, “More, please?”

Kravitz tossed his head back with a laugh before leaning down to press a quick kiss against Taako’s giggling lips.

“Where to next?”

Taako had a lot more spots in mind before he’d be ready for Kravitz to stop.

#tickle fic #my writing #taz tickling #taz:b tickling #lee!taako #ler!kravitz #ticklish!taako #taz #taz:b #Taako Taaco #taz kravitz #taakitz

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sems-diarie · 4 years

Note

Ok but... quick suggestion, what if Bakugo and his S/O were kind fulling around in the kitchen after curfew and Aizawa pops up like “who there?” So they both duck down into a fat cabinet and Bakugo being the horny shit he is just keeps continuing till he leaves .3.

warnings

they’re 18, 3rd years!!

slight nsfw, but still 18+!

the fic lacks heat. but i like the beginning!

Background Noise

“C’mere.”

You squint at him suspiciously from your spot curled against the arm of the couch closest to the tv. He’s spread across on the other couch, an easy curve in his posture. One of his arms is thrown around the top of the couch while his feet are planted firmly on the floor, knees pointing outward and legs spread so wide, you wouldn’t be surprised if you could smell his man stench.

“Huh?”

Bakugou tilts his head, eyes slanted in the most delicious way as they slide over your sitting form. You freeze under his state, breath hitching with mounting anxiety. Why are you so nervous?

Red eyes linger on the soft stretch of your thighs before flickering up to your face. Damn those stupid Nike shorts. “You heard me, dumbass.”

He repeats himself anyway, “Come here.”

“I don’t—what do you need me to come over there for? If you fart, I swear to God—,” but like a magnet, you find yourself shuffling off of your couch and trotting over to stand with the coffee table at the back of your calves and in the space between Bakugou’s knees.

It’s quiet. Everyone has gone to bed, save for you and Katsuki. Only the soft buzz from the stove light in the kitchen and the meaningless dialogue of this action movie Bakugou picked out for class movie night to be heard. Background noise.

“It’s late.” Breathy. Soft. With twitching hands, aching to touch the boy in front of you. “We should go to bed.”

He grunts. You think maybe it’s caveman language for “I know”—but the swirl in his eyes says he doesn’t really hear you. They’re fixated on the way your shirt sits over your chest. His tongue sweeps across his lip at your nipples poking out beneath the thinly veiled material to say hello. It’d be rude not to say hi back, right?

“You’re messin’ with my head,” he says, and he almost sounds angry. “Sit on me.”

“Sit—,” a roll of weightlessness punches through your gut. “Sit on you?! Like, your face—?”

“No,” he brings his arm off the couch and pats his lap with both hands. “Here. And stop bein’ so damn loud, stupid brat.”

“I’m not—,” you pout, leaning down to grab his shoulders for leverage and lift one leg over the side of Katsuki’s hip. “M’not stupid. You’re stupid.”

Before you can fling your other leg up, he grabs the meat of your under thigh and jerks you into his lap. You gasp, then quietly curse him. You’re pretty sure your knee just popped.

“Not my fault you were movin’ too slow.”

“Moving too slow? Oh, you’ve got some nerve—”

Warm lips press against your mouth hard.

Katsuki’s grip on your thighs turns steel, leaves imprints and aches as he drags his fingers up and then dips them under the leg of your shorts.

You lose your breath when trying to kiss back. Slipping a hand around his neck, you pull Katsuki in closer; a dreamy sigh escapes the palace of your ribcage because you haven’t kissed your boyfriend in so long and it feels so good. Something in the deep of you is fluttering like a butterfly, pulsing against your panties and throbbing over where you’re hips are pressed against Katsuki’s.

“Is someone there?” A voice calls from the void.

The warmth of Katsuki’s hand bleeds through your crop top and seeps into your stomach. He managed to wrestle you to the floor silently, his other hand already placed to catch the fat ass thud your big ass head would surely produce—had he not been prepared.

You stare at Bakugou with eyes wide like plates. You know who that voice belongs to. You know he knows who that voice belongs to.

Aizawa yawns, leaning into the kitchen counter. He swears he heard people talking.

You mentally promise yourself to strangle Bakugou as soon as your teacher exits the premises. Thick fingers push against your tongue to silent your pushy moans and demanding whines.

And as soon as he gets his mouth off of your nipple.

Dark eyes flicker as a car flips across the screen, the screeching metal reaching the perfect degree of unbearable.

Oh, the UA teacher thinks, it was the movie. “I guess not.”

But there’s more shuffling, “Where’d they put the remote?”

You dig your fingers into Bakugou’s shoulders.

The sound of Aizawa shuffling closer to the couch you and Bakugou are hiding in front of sends a surge of panic through you. Bakugou thinks nothing of it, pushes closer to you in between your hips and tilts your jaw to leave a trail of fat, angry hickeys all the way down your chest.

Fuck.

The padding of Aizawa’s footsteps halt.

“Here it is.” He snatches the tv remote off the dining table and turns the television off, “Damn kids,” then he flicks the stove light off. “Wasting electricity.”

You listen for the footsteps to disappear completely, and then wait just a second longer.

Then, you shove Bakugou off of you.

“We coulda got caught!” You hiss, twisting his shirt in your hand.

He grins, the bastard grins, a flash of pink gums and something unbelievably cocky in his eyes. “S’your fault. Loud mouth.”

#bnha thirst #thirst drabble #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader

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bigkyloenergy · 3 years

Text

𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔𝙀𝘿 𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙊𝙈

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘.

a witcher!kylo x reader fic. dark themes, smut ahead. 18+.

summary: you are a barmaid / stablewoman at an inn in toussaint, kylo ren, one of the last of the witchers from the school of the viper regularly stays at the establishment. you wonder what keeps him coming back.

read on ao3.

O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty….

This song was going to be stuck in your head for weeks. How many times had the bard sang it in the last 24 hours? You could hear him even as you stocked the tables outside, grabbing one of the plates a little too tight when you picked it up.

It wasn’t as if the man was a bad singer, he had such a following for a good reason — out of all the songs in the land, his favorite was a ballad of Witchers. Reminding you of the last time you’d seen yours, how well you’d memorized the outline of his lips even in the quick look you’d gotten under a setting sun.

Only a few days passed, it felt like weeks. While work would usually occupy you, you spent extra time turning your head toward every incoming guest, just to check if it was him.

Betty couldn’t stand you working so much, she nearly kicked you out every time dawn began to pass over Beauclair. After you finished the placewear, you said a quick goodbye to cook while you grabbed your things from the kitchen before passing the crowd that was gathered tightly in the inn, warmed by ale and good company.

Usually, you’d stay after when entertainment was hired at the Pheasantry. You loved music, the tales behind the tunes, letting your body sway and your mind find silence. Ruek didn’t put up an argument either, you figured he was just about as sick of you as the inkeep. And your bed didn’t sound so bad with thoughts of the Viper occupying your mind.

The cobblestone shined with the reflection of the night sky, the town dressed in a somber silence while your boots clicked down the street.

Every time you blinked, you saw him. Leading the horse as he fucked you, using the instability to his advantage, leaving you with a bruised cervix, one that demanded you yield every step you took. You weren’t shy to your carnal desires, but he awoke them in a way that seemed unearthly.

Crickets began to stir in the grass, your walk not being far so you took your time, enjoying the way the buildings looked at night, walking in zigzags since you didn’t have to worry about anyone to run into. Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong when you spotted a hooded woman right in front of your building, like she was looking for something at the bottom of the door.

“Hey. Can I help you?” You knew the neighbors that lived above you, and the other flat was vacant, and you couldn’t help the suspicion considering the woman wasn’t even trying to ring the bell.

Her hair fell in raven curls around her face, side profile sharp, and you could tell that her eyes were beautiful even from here.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Again, you tried to gauge her attention, taking a step closer.

Maybe she was hurt, maybe this was a grandchild of the elderly couple that you didn’t know about. You remembered them telling you that their family was still back home in Novigrad, but maybe you’d missed something in the last conversation you had with the wife.

Reaching your hand out, you barely brushed your fingers over the cloaked shoulder before she was turning, snapping your arm back into your chest.

What was a regular woman had glowing, white eyes, mouth opening in a hiss — revealing jagged teeth. As you stepped back, fear making you trip over your heel, she advanced on you. In her motions the hood fell, dark hair surrounding her face, and the last thing you saw was her desiccated beauty before everything was black.

—

“.... and you, the Witcher who prefers vampires over monsters, come here for a girl?”

Your head hurt. The ground was hard under you, pebbles indenting your skin while you rolled onto your side. Barely able to register the voice, let alone what they were saying. Blood rushed between your ears. You heard a pop, wondering if it was in your head or wherever you were, trying to recover the last thing you remembered. The woman.

“Why don’t you let her stay here, with me?” You cracked an eye, a wall looking back at you, behind you a quick shuffle of feet somewhere before a high pitched shriek burst the tension that was making the room sound like it was underwater.

“Not as nice as the others say, I thought the first time I met you would be special. A dance of two monsters.”

“I don’t dance.”

His voice, even in your state, had your brain crawling with urgency, looking for the crack of light in confused darkness.

You rolled again, releasing more tiny rocks that had burrowed in your skin, just in time to see the woman disappear.

Her clothes the only evidence she was there, Kylo shattering a glass bulb in the same place she’d left. The man grunted, now making eye contact with you.

The cave began to echo with distant noises of the bruxa. Your head whipped, trying to find the source, adjusting your hindered sight in the darkness. Kylo was turning on his heel, unclipping something from his waistband, another splintering against the floor.

This time, it puffed with silver dust, leaving the air sparkling — and that was when you saw her.

She was decorated by whatever he’d just tossed in that direction, yet you couldn’t completely recognize her, you knew it was the woman outside of the door. The bomb only outlined her frame, but it was enough for him.

Jumping against the caved walls, she used them to get above the Viper, dropping from the ceiling just as he caught the dagger that was in his left hand between his two forefingers, holding them both to brace for her impact.

Claws scraped along his side, and he took advantage of her weight to grasp her wrist — sending her into the wall next to you. She shrieked, then disappeared again.

Kylo stood above you. He used the curve of his boot, right where your ribcage met your hip, only to toss you farther toward what you assumed was the entrance.

You gasped, rolling against the floor, trying to protect your softer bits from the collision with the ground.

Scurrying to the wall, you shrunk yourself against it, pulling your knees into your chest. Still in your skirts from work, you clutched them in clammy palms, the dust burning your nostrils as you swallowed air.

It was as if you couldn’t completely focus your eyes, Kylo blended with the darkness, his sharp movements as he dodged your captor the only thing spotlighting him. You were too afraid what may come if you looked away.

His offense was fluid, as if he’d had this fight a thousand times. It was almost like… he wasn’t trying. Kylo would mock her without speaking, his blades barely catching her as she passed, earning gurgling objections from the monster.

Each time she attempted to invade his space, he was shrugging her off in a lithe twist of his burly body.

The Viper’s very stance was taunting, flicking his daggers outward as if to challenge her. The silver caught in the sliver of moonlight, before it was being tossed through the air and landing directly in her chest. That pissed her off.

She teleported behind him, jumping onto his back before you could blink, and latched into the side of the Witcher’s neck.

You screamed.

He shook her off, stumbling forward, gloved hand coming over the wound as she circled him. Crimson dripped from her mutated face, chittering all the way, as if she had already won. You felt your eyes burning with tears, and you refused to let them pass. Monsters was a light term for the cloaked woman who was now besting the Viper.

Suddenly, her demeanor changed, she was recoling. The noises were turning painful, and this was Kylo’s signal to advance on her. He dropped his hand from his shoulder, grabbing the dagger that was still in her chest. You knew Witchers practiced magic, so you were hoping that would be his big finale to this nightmare.

It wasn’t.

Kylo coiled his arm around her neck, bringing her back to his chest. She thrashed, and you watched him lock a leg around hers for good measure. He took a few steps like this, making sure that he didn’t lose his grip, and he began to drag the knife upward. Blood splattered at the hilt, splitting open her chest, breaking every bone in its wake. You could hear the cracks between her feral blubbering, snapping her teeth in the air, clawing at any part of him she could find.

And in one more graceful movement, her top half was completely severed, dropping to nothing in front of her bloodthirsty defeator. And for what seemed like good measure, he pulled out another glass from his pouches, pouring a thick liquid over the body.

“What’re you doing?” Your voice broke as you finally spoke, unclutching the skirts that were your only security.

He didn’t even look up.

“She isn’t dead.” He snapped his fingers, a ball of flame dancing from them, fire sealed her skin before it devoured it, leaving it to ash.

You opened your mouth again to speak, only nothing came out. So much was on your mind, yet you felt so empty. Numb. You stared at the burnt spot on the cave floor, but Kylo didn’t move. He was watching you, blood still dripping from his shoulder, his mask still perfectly placed over his chiseled nose.

Through all the adrenaline you were harboring, the desperation to see his face again stayed stubborn.

“How did you find me? Did you follow.. Where the hell did she even take me?” You stayed in your position, “and what the hell was she? I — thought… you were… She bit you. What were those glasses you were breaking all over the place? Did you just make fire with your fingers? Was she naked?”

A puff of air through the mixed material in his muzzle was all you got in response, taking a few wide steps to lift you to your feet. You quickly pulled your arm from him.

“No. What the fuck? Why can’t you literally answer any questions? Don’t you think you owe me that?”

“The second time I’ve saved your life.” he reminded, “I owe you nothing.”

It was now when you finally got clear vision of his eyes, expecting the golden gaze you memorized, only to nearly collide against the wall when nothing but black looked down at you. Your throat dried, switching between the heavy purple veins under them, and back to his unidentifiable pupils.

You took a long breath, letting the fear sink into your belly, before you stepped forward, aiming your chin up toward him.

“You’ve been in Beauclair this whole time, haven’t you? You just haven’t checked into the inn. Are you avoiding me? You know, you’re the one who decided to pull your dick out on your horse.”

He growled, taking a deep breath, which only dwarfed you further.

“Tell me,” he tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his dark stare, “are you angry because all you can think about is my cock? You want me to show up at that dull inn and fuck you delerious every night?” Your lips parted, saliva building in your mouth.

He dropped his hand.

“Come, or be the next bait for whatever finds home here.”

Kylo passed you, stepping up the incline that was the exit, even still, you stayed. You crossed your arms over your chest, gauging a reaction from the Witcher.

“Maybe whatever comes will show me more mercy than you have.”

The Viper stopped dead in his tracks, twisting on his heel, before he was closing the space between you at a menacing rate.

Macabrely stoic, you stared into the abyss that were his eyes, unwavering in your feigned bravery.

“Mercy.” He chuckled mockingly, before he snatched you at your throat. Lifting you off of your feet, bringing you level to him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked beautiful like this, his pupils broken, the black matching the armor he wore.

He surveyed you like this for a moment before releasing you, leaving you to a pile at his feet.

You grasped at his legs, bringing yourself to some type of stability while you filled your lungs, finding yourself at your knees in front of him. Anticipation breathed at the back of your neck, gooseflesh dressing you. He grabbed your face in exchange, his hand taking the entirety of your jaw with no effort.

“You’ll beg for mercy when I’m done with you, little müna.”

Pushing his leathered fingers into your wet mouth, Kylo forced your jaw open, flattening your tongue while he began to unzip his pants. You churned at the thought of seeing his cock again, ignoring every ounce of morality you had. The dirt under your knees was hard, pinching your flesh as you adjusted your weight. You stared up at him, willing, and he grunted, releasing himself.

His cock was already hard, waiting, and with the way he prodded your tongue you knew exactly what he wanted from you. But he didn’t give you a beat to do it yourself.

The Viper removed his hand, shoving his cock in its place, filling you to the base of your throat. You gagged, your fingers reaching to brush against his solid thighs before he smacked your hand away. He reached back up to the shoulder that hadn’t stopped bleeding, coating the glove in the fresh liquid before he smeared it along your face. First your eyes, forcing you to close them, then down your cheeks, painting you in him.

“Don’t touch me.” Kylo warned through clenched teeth as he began to push himself into your face, finding a steady rhythm.

You whimpered against him, leaving your hands in your lap while he collected the majority of your hair in one hand. He snaked his fingers against your scalp, starting at the nape of your neck, letting them lace through the strands before he wrapped it around his knuckles.

The Viper gave a good tug, forcing you to take every inch of him, bury your nose in his pubes, inhaling his musk, hindering your senses. You were being swallowed by this man, every bit of you knew it, you wanted him in any way he’d give.

Even if it meant fucking your face on a cave floor after he’d just saved you from a damned vampire.

“That’s it, choke on it, slut.” He groveled, shimmying your face in a way that would make the tip of his cock bounce along your esophagus.

Your eyes welled with tears, hollowing out your mouth so you could take this monster’s perfect cock as it should be. Appreciating every inch forced into you, tongue rolling to steal tastes from his slickened skin.

His sounds egged you on, the low moans that were drowning between his primal growls. You wanted him to go mad with the feeling of your mouth, and this wasn’t enough. You attempted to force your head further, though his hand was doing all the real work, reaching yours up again to cup his balls in your hand.

You heard a muffled breath before he was ripping you from his erection, forcing you to gaze straight at it, and you were sure no torture device had anything on this. Your spit dripping from his swollen head, the veins protruding and garnishing his dick in the most delicious way. Some saliva dripped from your bottom lip as you looked up at him with confused, desperate eyes.

Kylo dragged you by your hair, your ass skating across the textured floor, until you met the wall you’d been recoiling to earlier.

“I told you not to touch me, already stuffed with cock and can’t stop being a disobedient whore.” He spat, before he slammed his cock back into your gaping mouth.

His thumb hooked at your jaw, over your bottom teeth, dislodging it from your face. You whined, the pain shooting down your neck, through your head, making it harder to breathe when you began to panic. But this didn’t stop the Viper, every time you fussed he would smack his hips hard enough against you that your skull would crack against the earthly wall.

As you shifted, trying to mask the pain with the pleasure you found in him using you like this — you felt the wetness ruining your undergarments. You squeezed them together in a futile attempt for some pressure, any sort of relief, and Kylo quickly kicked your legs back apart before you could even finish your thought. He held your hair right at the top of your head, forcing stillness, leaning over your body, using your mouth as his personal fuck hole. You could feel him getting harder in your mouth, which only could mean one thing. And you wanted it.

You wanted to feel him shoot down your throat, invade your insides, make home in your belly and know the taste of his spend.

Excitement was getting the best of you, nipples poking through your blouse as it slipped from your shoulder. He looked down at you, his eyes still plagued with whatever concoction had done this to him, and came in your mouth.

You tried to open your throat, but the brunt force had swelled it enough to object to swallow. Coughing, you used his cock as a cork to keep the seed down. It was only when you began to feel him softening that he finally pulled out of you. You were more dazed than when you’d woke up here.

Kylo zipped up his pants, watching you all the while. You were beginning to get used to that, the way he looked to you as if you were going to say something earth shattering at any point. Closing your mouth, your jaw clicked back into place with a harsh pang.

Your hand clutched over it, whimpering, trying to move it to make sure that he hadn’t just broken your face trying to use it as a human cock toy.

Unsure if your feet would even register standing, you lifted yourself to them and your knees immediately wobbed.

The Viper sighed, grabbing you at your hips before he slung you over your shoulder as if you were extra cargo.

Stepping out of the cave, ducking under the passageways so he wouldn’t hit you along them, his head already reached the top so you were a dangerous addition to his exit. When he mounted Luxe, he didn’t bother with the courtesy of letting you into the saddle in front of him.

And for the second time, he dropped you at the inn without so much as another word.

#tw noncon #tw violence #tw gore #tw blood #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #witcher!kylo #witcher fanfiction #witcher fanfic #kylo ren au #witcher au #hv.

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moirai-au · 4 years

Text

Timeline: Arc 4 - Separation, right after "Help him"

Warnings: mentions of injury

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna

David maneuvered his way down the mansion, carefully avoiding and ducking under the obstacles -one of them a massive, 18th century-old grand piano- to get to his destination; the door to Mars’s room, opened just a crack, stood at the end of the hallway in front of him, an eerie, lavender-colored light shining through the seams and the narrow opening.

His heart beat against his ribcage and in his ears, his thoughts a jumbled mess of ‘this is stupid’, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing’ and ‘how did I get in this mess’. But all those thoughts and instincts were being overpowered by the dad’s need to help.

Help Mars, who was probably scared out of his wits right now. Help Cecil, injured and incoherent in the hallway he’d left behind.

Little by little, step by step, he eventually came to a stop in front of Mars’ bedroom door, examining it wearily- the purple light bleeding through the cracks were definitely not a good sign, and he was pretty sure he could hear something akin to a storm going on inside.

Bracing himself as best he could -god, what could he even do if it involved magic of all things- he pushed the door open…

And he gaped at the scene.

The whole place was in utter chaos. Everything was floating, just like in the rest of the mansion, but the shimmering aura surrounding the rogue furniture was a new one. The wandering objects were drifting around the room, slowly, forming circles. Like rings orbiting a planet.

And right here, floating at the center of it all, was Mars.

He was curled in on himself a few feet above his bed, his whole body surrounded by swirling, wizzing strands of violet energy. The very same energy seemed to pulse from inside him, lighting up his veins in lighting-like patterns under his skin.

His hands were clutching and pulling at his long brown hair, which was free of the usual messy bun he often kept them tied in. Now they were floating as well, swaying back and forth like immersed in water, forming a strange halo-like form around Marvin’s face. His expression was one of complete, overwhelming panic. His eyes were blown wide, irises drowned in the agressive purple light.

Under the roaring of the wind and the low thrum of pouring magic, Dave could hear a ragged, rapid wheeze- the mage was hyperventilating.

“Mars?” Dave called out to him, gritting his teeth as he took a step into the room- there was some kind of force pushing him back and every move was nervewrackingly slow, like walking through tar. “Mars, can you hear me? It’s Dave!”

For a second he thought the mage hadn’t heard him at all. Then his face slowly tilted up, mouth gaping. “D-Dave…?”

“Yeah, yeah bud, it’s me. Just me.”

“You can’t- no, no no no no you can’t be here, you need to get away, I can’t-”

“Sorry man, not gonna happen.” the snapback-wearing man shook his head. “The last thing you need right now is to be alone.”

Mars’ expression shifted to surprise, then anger. “Because you of all people know what I need? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m not trying to patronize you, I just want to help-”

“Shut up!”

Mars had screamed, his voice distorted by rage and rogue magic. The air around him exploded outwards, the blast nearly knocking Dave off his feet. The older man winced, but took another step forward stubbornly. “Kid, c’mon-”

But Mars didn’t listen. The floodgates had opened, and words kept flowing like a furious river out of his mouth.

“You have no clue! I barely even know you, you don’t know what I did- everyone, they always leave me behind once they start to see what I am. Hen only stuck around because my- because that was his job, what he was paid to do. And then when the money stopped coming, he only stayed because he felt sorry for me!

“Ollie- ollie was the first person who bothered to put up with me, without being asked! And I was an asshole to him, I kept pushing him away, but he always came back with that stupid smile on his face- calling me his friend, dragging me outside for the first time in years… I started to think that maybe, maybe this would be fine. I c-could- share a connexion with someone, and not hurt them. I started to see him as- as a brother. My dumb, reckless little brother.

“But I was stupid. I let him in, and now he’s gone, he fucking left and it’s all my fault. It’s just like h-he said, I’m nothing but a burden. I hurt people, I break everything I touch-”

“That’s not true.” Dave interrupted, shaking his head desperately. “You’re scared, and that’s okay, you’ve been left to fend for yourself by shitty people, hell, I’ve only known you all for a few weeks and even I can see that.

“You were born with powers you didn’t want or asked for. You didn’t have anyone to help you control them, or understand them- and no-one would cope well with that. Not without help.

“You can’t carry this weight alone, and you shouldn’t have to. You’re not alone, Mars, and- you know you can rely on us, yeah? That’s what f- friends are for, y’know?”

He stumbled on the word, almost letting out the one that made his heart squeeze with both hope and regret. Feeling something inside him shift, he clenched his first and took a step forward, fighting off the ethereal force pushing back against him. Mars, Oliver, the doc- Cecil, he corrected himself, and even that demon... those people had struck a familiar chord in him, and none of them could deny the strange bond that they could all feel, like something that’d always been there, in the back of their minds. And if they wished for it… they could be-

Not now, he decided, not yet. Not until we’re all ready to hear it.

The mage had gone silent once more, still clutching his head, as if to keep it from splitting open; he was gritting his teeth, like Chase’s words were piercing right through him.

Dave held out a hand towards Marvin with visible effort, his lips stretching in an reassuring, fatherly smile. “I’m here. Ollie will come back, I know he will. It wasn’t your fault, not everything bad that happens is your fault. He’s- he has his own demons, you know? We all do. And we can work through them better if we do it together.”

“...I’m broken.” Mars murmured weakly. The maelstrom around him was slowing down, the sparks and energy strikes growing more sparse. Looked like he was finally starting to run out of whatever emotion had been fueling his powers. “I’m a broken mess of a person, have been for years. I don’t know how to deal with people. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t even know who I am under this- this mask.”

He could’ve been referring to the black sleek mask hovering above the nightstand, but Dave had a feeling it was less literal than that. Yeah, he thought, growing up in near-complete isolation will do that to a person. “You’re not broken,” he said, “You’re just… cracked, and that’s something you can recover from. I know it sounds like useless platitudes, trust me, I’ve heard it all before, but… things can get better. Not saying it’ll be easy, but they can. Just… take a break, yeah? Let other people hold that burden with you, just for a little while. Let me- us, in. Please.”

Mars stared at him with an unreadable expression -the fact that his eyes were drowned in purple light was certainly not helping. Then, slowly, his face twisted in a more familiar way, into something Dave had seen so many times on his kids’ faces. Shiny droplets gathered at the corner of the young man’s eyes, before falling… upwards.

Mars was crying, and his tears were floating up, up, all the way to the ceiling. Dave gaped at the sight- he’d never seen Marv express so much raw, unbridled emotion before. He and Cecil were similar in that regard, burying their true selves under layers and layers of snark and aloofness…

The mage choked on a sob. “I’m so tired… so fucking tired of being alone…”

“You don’t have to be. You have us now. And if you think we’d leave you… well…”

He chuckled. “You were right about not knowing me.”

And then, without warning, the violet glow filling up the room was snuffed out, and so was the force keeping everything up.

The dad reacted on instinct, leaping forward; and he was glad he did, because Mars would’ve hit the hard floor otherwise, missing his bed by a few inches. He caught the distressed mage in his arms with a strained grunt- the kid may’ve not weighed much, especially after a week of basically starving himself, but he was still ridiculously tall, and the collision still brought him on his knees.

David winced as his kneecaps took the brunt of the fall; objects and furniture crashed and broke around him, but he ignored the chaos unfolding entirely as Mars broke down in his hold. C’mon Brody, keep it together, kid needs you...

“I’m s-sorry,” the younger man choked, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, “I didn’t mean- I didn’t want this to happen-”

“I know kiddo, I know…” Dave shushed him, letting him bury his face in his shoulder. “It’s over, you stopped, yeah?”

Mars nodded, pulling back to wipe the wetness off his scarred face- his golden eyes were red and puffy, his pupils blown wide; they shone brighter than usual without the red lenses in front of them. “I didn’t… hurt you?”

“Nope! Not a scratch, see?” Dave smiled at him, raising his arms to his sides as if to prove he was unscathed. He refrained from mentioning the doc’s own state, afraid that the mage would freak out if he found out right now.

Unfortunately, Mars looked up above his shoulder, his piercing gaze fixating on something beyond the wall of his room. His fingers twitched, his features twisting into a focused, searching expression. And then he gasped, concentration leaving its way to dread. “No…”

Ah, shit.

“Mar-” Dave reached out, trying to grab the younger man’s shoulder- but Mars jumped to his feet, clumsily darted over to the door. He took a few steps out, then froze at the sight that awaited him at the end of the hallway.

“Cecil!” he cried out, sprinting down the hallway to kneel in front of the older man. Dave stared in shock as he followed the mage into the corridor, taking in the older man’s deathly pale complexion. His eyes were closed, his head slumped forward. Unresponsive.

The father stumbled forward, his steps feeling both too light and too heavy, like his mind wasn't quite keeping up with his body. He’d just been okay a few minutes ago, he, he’d told him he’d be fine, that it was just a minor concussion-

Had the doctor lied to him? Had he been so adamant on getting David to help the other that he’d ignored his own state entirely? The prospect made his blood run cold.

“Doc, Doc, c’mon,” the mage chuckled feverishly, fat tears rolling down his pallid cheeks. He didn’t seem to notice or care. “I’m sorry I got mad at you, yeah? Y-You didn’t deserve it, I was lost and angry and scared and I’m sorry-”

Cecil wasn’t moving. His grip was limp.

“Hey, hey- what, heh, giving me the silent treatment? T-That’s fine, I can talk for both of us…”

“Mars-”

“Also, ah, you’re gonna have, have to stop being a dick to Dave, yes? P-Pretty sure he just stopped me from ground-zeroing the place- but it’s all good now, see? I’m fine, he’s fine, and you’re, you’re fine...“

“Kiddo, he’s not fine, we gotta call an ambulance-”

“NO!”

Dave reeled back from Mars’ side, eyes wide; the scream had tore right at his core. It was a broken thing, frantic and terrified, yet so full of desperate hope that it made Dave want to cry. The younger man grabbed Cecil’s face with infinite gentleness, despite the trembling in his arms and twitch in his fingers. “He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he has- has too. Can’t not be. Won’t- won’t let it, won’t let him get away, won’t let him leave-”

He let out a choked sob, his head falling forward. “H-Hear me, you asshole? You’ve been stuck with me for fifteen years, and I’m not letting you go that easy, hah! Now… stop dicking around, yeah? Come back. Please.”

His hands tensed up around Cecil’s head, his frame shaken by breathless tremors. “It’s over, you can come back. Okay? Just- come back to us. Come back to me. Just come back to me.”

Dave watched, panic eating away at him- they didn’t have time, the doc would not get better without outside help. He started to fish for his phone in his pant pocket, but something stopped him outright.

As Mars kept mumbling, something strange was happening along his arms- bright, lime green vein-like lines were creeping down his shoulders, arms, then forearms, shining through the fabric of his sleepshirt.

the father watched in awe as the light reached Mars’ hands, his fingertips; and once it touched Cecil’s skin, it doubled in intensity for a few seconds- before dimming slowly, then brightening up again, like a slow, steady heartbeat.

And then the doctor arched up, drawing in a large gulp of air.

“Holy shit-” David breathed out, rushing to Cecil’s side. “Doc, calm down, it’s fine, you’re fine- breathe with me, okay? Slow down, this place ain’t running out of air anytime soon.”

As the German got his breathing under control and blinked back into clearheadedness, color already returning to his skin, Dave gently grabbed Mars’ hands to pull them away from the man’s face. “Hey kid- s’okay, you can stop now, yeah? You did good.”

Mars stared at his hands in confusion. “I… did?”

His voice was quiet, unsteady, and his eyes were clouding over by the second. The father put a steadying hand on his shoulder, smiling at him. “Yeah. yeah you did. He’s fine now, see?

The mage stayed silent. He looked back down at his own hands, the green glow fading away quickly. “I… never… didn’t know I could-”

“Well,” Dave cut him off, chuckling gently, “life’s full of surprises, right?”

Mars hummed noncommittally, swaying in place slightly. He eventually leaned in Dave’s side, head falling on the older man’s shoulder; the rush of adrenaline from his magical meltdown was finally fading away, replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion and a fuzzy lassitude. “Dave…?”

“Yeah?”

“M’tired.”

“I know. That’s okay.”

David’s voice was soft, yet so far away. His vision blurred and spun in a fit of nausea, and he had to close his eyes to avoid getting sick all over the carpet- god, how long had it been since he’d eaten, or slept?

He snorted dizzily- he remembered Cecil asking him that exact same query merely a moment ago; he was always bad at listening to his advice, huh?

He felt the scratchiness of the woolen carpet against his cheek- funny, he didn’t remember lying down. Oh well, it was fine. He was quite comfy here, oh-so-heavy limbs surrendering to gravity as it pulled him, deeper and deeper into the floor.

He was vaguely aware of two pairs of hands on him, pulling him up; then his head was rested on something warm and cushiony. He curled up on himself, and within a few seconds he was out, chest rising and falling slowly.

“Mars? H-Hey, can you hear me?”

“He’s fine,” Cecil grumbled, his thumb pressed against the mage’s inner wrist, probably feeling his pulse. “He’s just asleep.”

Dave nodded absentmindedly, staring at the doctor in amazement- the older man hadn’t waisted a second, getting back on his feet to take care of the kid despite having been in a really worrying state just a minute ago.

He sighed in relief and let his back collide against the wall, letting Mars’ head rest on his thighs. They’ll be alright. It’s all gonna be alright.

“The fuck did you fleshbags do?”

“Jesus!” Dave jolted, raising a hand to rest over his already frantically thumping heart. “You gotta stop popping behind us like this, you’re actually gonna give me a heart attack one day!”

Aster rolled his eyes, propped up against the wall- he looked particularly disgruntled. “As if I’d kill you in such a boring way. So, you gonna tell me what kind of fuckery you guys were up to? Fuckin’ earthquake shit woke me up.”

He tilted his head, staring at Mars’ unconscious body laying on the carpet. “And why’s Scars on the floor?”

Cecil clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at the imp impatiently. “That is not for you to know. Look, if you won’t help, you might as well go back to whatever hole you just crawled out of and leave us alone.”

Aster snarled at the doctor, sharp teeth bared aggressively. “Yeah? ‘s far as I know the biggest hole in here is you, so you might not want that, do you Doc?”

“Why you little-”

“Whatever!” the demon interrupted, turning away from the group. “I don’t even know why I bothered to come down, I really don’t give a shit. Have fun cleaning up. Fuckin’ humans, can’t leave them for one second-”

The rest was lost in undecipherable clicking and growling as Aster disappeared down the hallway, leaving Cecil and Dave alone with Mars’ prone form, in the middle of a capharnaum of fallen and broken objects.

“You did it.”

David tuned to the other curiously; the german’s icy grey eyes were peering right at him, considering him- scanning him, like he was a particularly complex enigma. “You managed to get him to stop. How?”

The father tilted his head, nonplussed. "I- well, I didn't see him as some destructive power or danger, I just…”

He sighed, visibly struggling to find the right words. “When I went in there and saw him… all I could see was a scared little kid who never got the chance to grow up. So I handled it like I'd handle one of my kids if they were afraid. I just talked to him, y'know?"

Cecil blinked, Mars’ earlier words looping in his mind over and over.

You're not my fucking father. You've made that very clear, remember?

Oh, he did. Memories made their way to the surface of his mind, bitter regret still clinging to them.

A tiny hand reaching out to him, hesitant. A quiet, youthful voice, earnest and hopeful. Something dropping into his palm- panic and fear as his eyes fell upon it. The little boy’s crestfallen face as Cecil turned and walked away. Ran away.

The unfolded piece of paper left forgotten on the floor.

“We need to move.”

“Was?” his head snapped up, taken out of his reverie; Dave was looking at him, drive steeling his usually softer features. “We need to move him, get him on the couch- if it’s still in the living room. I hope it is.”

The doctor processed his words before nodding slowly, the… event from a few days prior adding a second kind of regret to his already aching old heart, making it hard to talk. “Dave… about what I said to you the other day, I-”

“I know,” the other cut him off, giving him a soft, understanding look. “Just… not now, okay? Later. Right now we need to focus on Mars. And- Ollie. We need to find him. This shit’s gone on way too long.”

Cecil pursed his lips, looking conflicted, but agreed. “Very well. Get his legs, I’ll get his arms.”

“Gotcha- just be careful, I think I saw a few kitchen knives floating on my way here.”

***

Cecil’s room was dark, the orange light of early winter sunset shining through the window.

There, in an open drawer, under a mess of pencils and paper clips, was a sheet of paper. The page, yellowed with age, was covered in crudely drawn stars and moons -yes, moons, one couldn't fault children for wishing for more funny shapes in the night sky- above a blocky rendition of the mansion, and two stick figures standing in front of the door.

One of them was small, its only discernible features being the two pink circles framing bright yellow eyes. The other was a lot taller, spouting severe-looking grey eyes and a frown. Both of them seemed to be holding hands.

The childish scribbles above the drawing had faded with the years, but it was still very legible, despite the poor spelling.

Hapy fathers day -sined Mars

18 notes · View notes

webcricket · 5 years

Text

Castiel Drabbles

Characters: EstablishedCastielXReader

Bat Out of Hell Lyric Prompt: #19 - “Your eyes are darker than sin and I’ve been watching them glow.”

Word Count: 1213

Requested by: @jenabean75

Warning: Erotica/adult content, description of canon-consistent violence and gore. For a fallen angel, smiting demons is all kinds of arousing.

<<< >>>

Sweat, smoke from a burst hot water pipe, and the swell of tears from a well-aimed left jab you failed to dodge sting your eyes as you jam the blade a bit deeper into the chest of the demon whose lifeless meat suit you straddle. The bruise throbs your cheekbone like a beast clawing its way bloody out of the sinus cavity below and you taste the trickle of a metallic tinge on your tongue.

You’re pretty sure the bone is shattered, which you consider more insult than injury seeing as Castiel can heal you if he ever finishes fighting the group of four that broke away to face the seraph.

Clearly they thought one demon alone could handle a mere human; a little laugh gurgles in your throat at the thought - you love proving people wrong.

The satisfied smile etching into the corner of your mouth shoots a sharp pain through your cheek. Although the hell bitch is most certainly dead and unable to atone any further for her crime, she’s to blame; you scream and shove the weapon so far through her ribcage you feel a crunch of spine and the wall of concrete floor on the other side. Standing, you plant a heel to her torso and twist your weapon free.

Castiel’s gravelly grunts and the continued sounds of combat tell you perhaps they sent the more capable members of the crew to tackle the angel. You blink to clear the blear; peering into the haze toward the kerfuffle, you spy a set of radiant blues aglow with grace in the murk.

To the immediate left of that divine illumination, orange lightning and a glint of celestial metal flash; a mass of black thuds to the ground motionless. The shining blues wobble and brighten under a hard blow from behind; Castiel growls as he twirls around, his broad hand slaps to skin and the final demon falls to his knees and explodes in a blinding gleam of light.

Silence descends save for the hiss of the pipe.

“You good?” You call out into the abandoned building’s dim basement. Cas emerges from the fog, trench coat and chestnut hair rumpled, knot of his tie slackened, a spatter of crimson staining his lapels and starkly contrasted by the crisp white of his shirt, but otherwise looking no worse for the wear.

As usual, his concern directs itself outward. “You’re hurt.” The observation hastens his purposeful momentum and in two strides his hand settles on your waist to pull you in for closer inspection.

“This? It’s nothing,” you joke, attempted brevity rewarded by an involuntary spasm of pain; your lashes slam shut and a shiver of shock racks your frame - that’s what you get after riding the adrenaline rollercoaster of bravado.

“Let me.” Leaning down, he kisses the broken spot below your eye; healing heat pervades the flesh and his lips linger longer to skim your entire form for injury.

“Mmm, that’s much better, thanks.” Your nerves buzz in the wake of his search; sneaking your arms around the solid column of his vessel, you shudder beneath the heavenly frisk and exhale a sigh, the airy utterance burdened with the wish Sam and Dean weren’t on this particular run, too, because the things you’d like to do with the angel right now aren’t exactly activities appropriate in the brothers presence.

Castiel is generally a gentle lover; so gentle, methodical, and thorough there can be no doubt in your mind as to his devotion. But sometimes a girl wants to feel needed - wants an unpolished demonstration of love that’s desperate and dirty and devoid of decorum.

You know from past forays, nothing girds his angelic loins like fulfilling the soldierly purpose he was created for - wielding righteousness to smote the evils of the world. The opportunities of taking advantage of such situations, however, happen few and far between.

It occurs to you the Winchesters are at least two floors above if everything is unfolding according to plan. Surely Cas would have heard an urgent prayer or hundred if anything were amiss. Surely you can steal a few extra minutes delay without their noticing. You shimmy against his hips to test the waters; a low growl rumbles his lungs.

He grips you by the shoulders to still you and to get an angle of study on your features. “What are you doing?”

Just as you suspected, the pupils peering back into yours are lust blown.

“Angel, you know what I’m doing.” Shifting onto your tip toes, you loop your fingers into the band of his trousers and slide them frontward to tug at his belt buckle. Your lips brush his - a breathy kiss of desire - as you speak. “Your eyes are darker than sin and I’ve been watching them glow. You know what that does to me. What you do to me.”

He senses your arousal - a wet yearning pulsing your center - and no amount of God-given will could prevent his vessel’s outer response to the unfettered need of the celestial being within; but he doesn’t need his vessel’s sanction for release, and given the constraints of time and limited options of space, he skips the fumbling fingered formality of eliminating the barriers of fabric between you with a snap.

Mouth sealing your lips in demand of a dizzying kiss, grabbing at your ass, kneading handfuls of the soft flesh in his fists, he lifts your legs to wrap his waist and carries you backward to a wall. He drives home to your heart how much he needs you, wants you, and adores you thrust after thrust until, lost in pants of pleasure, you scream for mercy, limbs shaking then limp.

An afterglow of love smolders in the angel’s eyes as he smooths the sweat-matted hair from your forehead. The simmering sentiment of affection fades at perceiving the approaching footsteps of Sam and Dean. He quickly restores both your pleasure wrought wits and displaced clothing despite your moans protesting to the contrary.

“Cas? Y/N?” Sam shouts, swiping at the smoky air in front of him.

“You two okay?” Dean spies you first.

“We’re fine.” Cas keeps a palm pressed to the small of your back as you walk forward to join the brothers.

“Fine.” You agree, casting a commiserative grin at the seraph beside you.

“What the hell took you so long? Five demons ain’t exactly an army.” Dean huffs, gesturing at the assortment of crumpled bodies.

“We engaged in sexual intercourse after killing them.” Cas states, as bluntly honest as ever.

Dean’s grimace blooms instantaneous.

Half-mortified, half paralyzed by laughter, you twirl to hide your blush in Cas’ coat lapels.

Unsurprised, Sam simply shakes his head.

“What?” Gaze narrowed askance, Cas queries the elder Winchester.

Dean holds up a hand. “Nevermind. Just- never mind, the car’s out back.” He pivots to make an escape at a brisk bow-legged pace.

“Dean?” Cas’ palm slips from your spine as he trails after his friend. “Dean! Why did you ask if you didn’t want to know the answer?”

You’re left standing there with Sam, and when you meet each other’s chuckle-creased eyes, he shrugs, smiles, and shoots a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of their departure. “Shall we?”

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @roxy-davenport @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @dont-trust-humanity @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @kdfrqqg @xdifsx @mandilion76 @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @jessikared97 @let-the-imaginationflow @warriorqueen1991 @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @hisnameisboobear @kristendanwayne @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @ladyofletters67 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @pixiedusts @spookysculderfiles @laqueus-ludovicus @missjenniferb @lexininja @jessiekay2010 @skrratata @rhiannonj79 @calicat79

#castiel imagine #castiel x reader #castielxreader #spn imagine #castiel x you #castielxyou #cas x reader #castiel #cas x you #reader x castiel #you x castiel #castiel drabble #spn x reader #castiel fanfic #cricket writes cas

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perspective-series · 5 years

Text

Switched Perspective (6)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, panic, cages, bruising

(Check the reblog for the links to the previous chapters and the prequel!)

This is a sequel to A Third Perspective! Read that first or you will be confused!

“Soooo….” Roman said, eager to break the awkwardness. “Logan, how’s borrower life treating you?”

“Better than you, apparently.” Logan looked him up and down. “What happened?”

“Oh, right.” Roman was quick to make sure his bruises were covered. “I...fell.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow in surprise at Roman. He had expected him to tell Logan everything, but...he didn’t. Huh. “Yeah.” Virgil backed up.

He was getting tired of this sitting around, getting antsy and wasting time. He turned to Logan. “...I need to talk to you.”

“Well, go on then.” Logan frowned, a bit uneasy about the way Virgil was acting. “What do you need to say?”

Virgil glanced at Roman. “I need to talk to you alone.” And with that, Virgil grabbed Logan in a fist and headed towards Logan’s bedroom. Leaving Roman behind on the coffee table. Unlike an actual borrower, he knew Roman wouldn't be able to make his way down the table and to the room. So he could have all the privacy they needed.

He wouldn’t bring Roman into this again, he didn’t deserve it. But Logan? Logan absolutely did.

“Wait, Virgil-!” Roman called after him, but the human was already out of sight by then. Roman huffed, glancing around the coffee table. There was no real reason for him to worry. After all, it made sense that Virgil would want to talk to Logan. But the way Virgil spoke, the way he grabbed Logan, and even the way Virgil had acted this very morning to Roman… the shrunken human gulped.

Roman didn’t want to believe Virgil was capable of anything sinister, but he couldn’t take that chance. Logan didn’t deserve to be hurt any more than himself. Not to mention, Roman didn’t want Virgil to do anything he might regret.

Walking over to the edge of the table, Roman sucked in a breath. He knew from his regular life this table was only a foot off the ground or so, but now it looked so much taller. Would he survive a fall from that height? Already his lungs were protesting such a feat.

No, that would be stupid. Instead, Roman turned his attention to the table leg. It was angled outwards as a design choice. Maybe he could just try to slide down that?

Meanwhile, Logan was trying very hard to keep those pesky emotions in check. Once again his heart was racing thanks to his newly acquired borrower instincts.

Virgil’s eyes immediately went to the desk and what was on top of the desk, smirking. He never thought he would be thankful to see that Logan still had the cage. He took a seat at the desk and set Logan on top of it. He simply stared at him, smirking.

Logan glanced around at his surroundings, taking note of Virgil’s chosen placement. It was a spot that had hosted a slew of unpleasant memories between them, admittedly most being Logan’s fault.

“We’re alone now.” Logan stated. “What’s so urgent you can’t allow Roman to be present?” Though Logan often found Roman to be incompetent, he found himself wishing for the shrunken human’s company.

“Well, you see…” Virgil reached behind Logan, picking him up by the back of-technically Virgil’s-shirt and holding him up to his face. “I didn’t want to scare him.” Again.

Logan quickly grasped at the front collar of his clothing, making sure it didn’t pull too tightly around his neck as he was dangled precariously. His legs hung uselessly, kicking slightly at the air.

He gazed at Virgil’s giant eyes, sitting right before him and filled with a flurry of emotions. Logan read the human’s expression and realized his instinctual fright might actually be reasonable for once.

Virgil felt joy at the slight fear Logan was giving off, but it wasn’t enough. “See, Roman actually treated us halfway decent and was the one to let us go in the end. So he doesn’t deserve any of this.” Virgil let his grip slip and let Logan fall a little onto his other hand below. “You on the other hand, well…” Virgil’s hand closed around Logan.

“If it were up to you, we’d still be trapped in that cage over there, huh?”

“Why does everyone act like Roman’s a saint?” Logan argued, pushing against the uncomfortable grip around him. “He scared Patton first, traumatized him even. I’m the one who rehabilitated Patton and actually made him feel safe!”

Virgil grit his teeth. “Look, I know Roman isn’t a saint. I know what he did to Patton. I wasn’t going to tell you this, I’m actually surprised Roman didn’t. But he didn’t fall, like he said he had. I...admittedly, went too far, giving him a taste of his own medicine.” Virgil shrugged, though he did feel really bad about hurting Roman, he was trying to make Logan as scared as possible.

“Besides, Roman ended up making up for it, more or less. You, on the other hand, despite Patton’s thoughts and feelings towards you, ended up betraying him. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about all the things you did to me.” Virgil chuckled darkly. “How could I?”

Logan began to get concerned, now knowing the origin of Roman’s injuries. If that was the extent Virgil was willing to hurt Roman, a human who was possibly a friend, what extent was Virgil willing to go to for Logan? From the very beginning Virgil had despised Logan, and Logan knew it was for a good reason.

“Virgil, you have to understand.” Logan began to plead, knowing words could be his only salvation. “The way I treated you was the worst decision of my life. I have felt guilty about it ever since. It’s why I didn’t present you to the dean. It’s why I treated Patton so much kinder. I was trying to reform myself just like Roman. To make up for my past actions, if you will.”

“Really?” Virgil rolled his eyes and placed Logan back down on the desk. “You mean you tricked Patton. Not telling him the whole truth, making him decorate his own cage for petes sake!” Placing two hands on either side of Logan, Virgil leaned in close. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn't answer my earlier question. It’s because it’s true, isn’t it? If it was up to you, Patton and I would still be in that cage right there. Right?” Virgil glared daggers at Logan.

Logan gulped, quickly taking a few steps back. His heart thudded under his ribcage, voicing its own distress at this situation. Should Logan try and make a run for it? But where would he go? In any direction Logan was still trapped on the desk.

“Ah...well…” Logan floundered for words, not even knowing the true answer himself. Logan wished he could confidently say no, but he could not. He had certainly intended on keeping the borrowers before, who's to say he wouldn’t fulfill that intention? Possibly for a lifetime?

Virgil hummed. “Welp, that’s enough of an answer for me.” Virgil grabbed Logan up again, this time scooting the cage a little closer and dropping him inside. He closed the door with a resounding click. He smirked, watching Logan through the bars. “So, how does it feel?”

Logan groaned, his back hitting painfully against the metal bottom. He stood up, glancing around at his enclosure. Though the bars were intimidating, it was a bit difficult for Logan to guess Virgil’s plan. Did the human mean to keep him here indefinitely? It was hard for Logan to actually fear such a fate, given the knowledge that Patton and Thomas were sure to return shortly.

“Unpleasant.” Logan answered Virgil’s question with a defiant glare.

Virgil returned the glare, his coming off much harsher. “That’s it. That’s all you have to say?” Virgil was getting angry at the lack of reaction and so he gripped the side of the cage and rocked it harshly once. “How about now?”

Logan was thrown to the ground, his hands just barely catching himself from smacking his head against it. His heart skipped a beat, panting from the adrenaline. Logan could feel his legs and palms throbbing. The sudden movement had caused both areas to scrape along the surface.

“VIRGIL!” Roman yelled, all but limping into the doorway. He had taken a slight tumble off the coffee table leg and had had to travel the distance from the living room to the bedroom on foot, but one look at the scene before him and Roman knew that it had been worth it. His horrible gut feeling had been right after all.

Virgil looked down, eyes going wide at the sight of Roman. “Wha-Roman, how did you-?!” Virgil kneeled down and wasted no time in scooping Roman into his hands, looking him over. “Did you climb down the coffee table? Roman, you aren’t actually a borrower, you could have died!” Virgil used a finger to gently nudge Roman’s leg, which seemed to have taken the worst of Roman’s little fall.

“Ow!” Roman hissed, pulling his leg away from Virgil’s touch. “I’m borrower enough, thank you very much. And it’s your fault I had to climb down in the first place.”

Logan sat up slowly, watching the scene above him apprehensively from his spot on the cage floor. He didn’t want to stand just in case the cage was shaken again. Of course, Logan also spotted the cruel irony in how fast Virgil changed from torturing himself to babying Roman.

“I didn’t make you do anything.” Virgil said, but looked away.

“Come on, Virgil.” Roman scolded gently, gesturing to the cage with his hand. “You’re better than this.”

Virgil looked at the cage, at Logan, and glared. “...This doesn’t concern you, Roman.” Virgil said, looking back at Roman, his glare softening a little.

“Yes it does!” Roman argued. “I’m trying to help you, you stormy scoundrel. You’re all twisted around this foolish idea of revenge that you’re not thinking clearly.”

“Revenge against acts for which I have already apologized.” Logan pointed out.

“Logan, I swear to odin, you are not helping your case.” Roman glared briefly in the direction of the cage.

“He deserves all of this!” Virgil told Roman, before once again glaring at Logan. “And you. You think a simple apology makes up for everything?” He set Roman down on the desk, before lifting up his shirt, showing off the many black and blue bruises covering his skin. If one looked close, they would see that they matched the outline of giant fingers. “You think words make up for this.” Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t allow them to fall.

At this magnitude, it was hard not to notice every detail of Virgil’s markings. Courtesy of both former human’s manhandling. They both could only stare so long before guilt overcame them. Logan began fiddling with his glasses, trying to distract himself. After all, neither had ever intentionally done Virgil harm. It was merely due to the size difference and gripping Virgil too tightly. Yet their intentions were irrelevant when it came to actual results.

Logan was at a loss for words. Though this process was frightening, perhaps he did deserve this. Logan had never been an empathetic person by nature. A shared experience might allow him to feel some empathy towards all the pain he had caused Virgil.

Roman, however, still did not believe that Logan deserved this punishment. After all, Roman was just as guilty of accidentally bruising borrowers. He was sure that if Patton were to show off his chest it would be just as littered with markings. But Roman now had his own set of bruises, and hoped that perhaps that could be his ticket to getting through to Virgil.

“You know what?” Roman looked up at Virgil. “I think words do make up for that.” Roman lifted up his own shirt, showing off the large oval bruise left there this morning by Virgil’s finger. “Because guess what, ya vengeful viper? You did it too. And all you did to fix this was apologize.”

Virgil’s eyes widened at the sight of Roman’s bruise and he let his shirt drop back down. “I…but I…” He hated to admit it, but Roman had a point there. He only had his words to give when what happened this morning, well, happened. And, he was honestly surprised, but Roman had forgiven him. Even though the shrunken human was clearly still hurting.

Virgil couldn’t just forgive Logan though. He had done so much more to deserve this. Caused so much fear in Virgil, tricked Patton and then broke his heart, almost showed him off to a human, who also happened to be a scientist. Not to mention, thinking back on things, Logan hadn’t actually, truly, apologized.

“B-But I meant my apology! And Logan hasn’t even given me a proper one but even if he did, how do I know he means it? He just admitted he would have kept both me and Patton in that cage if it hadn’t been for you!” Virgil said through gritted teeth.

“Why would you say that?” Roman turned exasperatedly towards the cage, dropping his own shirt to use his arms to emphasize his point.

“I thought honesty would be the best policy.” Logan shrugged.

“Unbelievable!” Roman threw his hands up in the air before turning away from Logan.

“Although, in my defense, I never actually admitted to that.” Logan continued.

“You’re silence was enough.” Virgil said. He opened the cage door, once again grabbing Logan in a fist.

Logan struggled, feeling bruises of his own forming as Virgil’s fingers pressed the air right out of his lungs.

“Virgil, put him down!” Roman yelled, trying to hide his own fright at how fast Virgil had grabbed Logan up.

Virgil didn’t put him down, but he did loosen his grip when he felt Logan struggling a bit too much. Despite what both of them might think, he wasn’t here to actually hurt Logan. He turned to Roman. “Give me one good reason why I should! Give me a reason why I shouldn’t scare him as much as he scared me, Roman. I thought he was going to kill me. I thought he was going to dissect me for heaven’s sake!” He glared down at Logan. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hate him.”

Logan paled, staring into Virgil’s terrifying gaze. He felt his form shivering despite the fact it wasn’t cold. Though Virgil had loosened his grip, Logan still found it difficult to draw breath.

“Um…” Roman bit his lip, trying to think of a good reason. He wasn’t particularly fond of Logan himself, but that didn’t make this right. Of course, morality alone didn’t seem to be having any effect on Virgil right now. The old borrower was so blinded by his rage that it was hard to come up with any answer that would get through to Virgil.

“Patton likes him?” Roman said with a shrug.

“Patton likes everyone.” Virgil deadpanned. “I know it took awhile for him to warm up to you and all, but eventually he does. And take into account that Logan tricked and lied to him…” Virgil shrugged and smirked. “It’s hard isn’t it? Giving me a valid reason. Because, you’ll find, that there isn’t one.”

“Well you’ve got me there.” Roman muttered to himself, putting his hand on his chin to think.

“Look-” Roman said finally after coming up with nothing. “-I’ll admit it, I’m stumped. I cannot think of a good reason for you to not hate Logan. He was manipulative, selfish, and is generally unpleasant to be around.”

“Wonderful.” Logan said sarcastically. His life was figuratively in Roman’s hands (whilst literally being in Virgil’s hands), and Roman decided to insult him to his face. How helpful.

“But!” Roman quickly continued. “Hating someone is not a good enough reason to torture them. An eye for an eye may make eyepatch sales go up, but it doesn’t leave anyone feeling better about themselves. Hurting Logan isn’t going to change the past or help the future. Just let it go, Virgil.”

Roman’s words were getting Virgil mad, only because he was starting to see his point. But, that didn’t mean Virgil was giving in so easily. Besides, it seemed Roman’s whole point was based off of Virgil planning to hurt Logan, and well… “I’m not going to hurt him.” Virgil spoke. It might take some of the fear factor away, admitting that to Logan, but he needed to say it.

“I had never meant to hurt you either, but I didn’t know my own strength as a human. Now, I can control it a bit better.” Virgil took a deep breath. “This isn’t about hurting him, it’s about making him feel what I felt. Emotionally, mentally, but not-not physically.” Despite...hating Logan, he would also hate to hurt him.

“Well, I think you’ve met your goal there.” Roman gestured to Virgil’s fist. “Nano nerd over here is shaking like a leaf.”

“Y-yes.” Logan’s voice stuttered against his will. “You’ve made your point...incredibly clear.”

“Please,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “You’ve only experienced a portion of what I went through. This isn’t over.” The stutter in Logan’s voice was satisfying to hear though. Suddenly, they heard the front door open.

“Virgil! You should have seen it! It was amazing! There were so many humans and so many different foods to choose from! But the humans weren’t scary at this size! It was so much fun!” Patton’s voice called into the house. Virgil felt panic start to rise in him as he looked between Roman and Logan. He...hadn’t thought this far ahead.

#g/t #switched perspective #part 6 #sanders sides #perspective series #switched!roman #switched!virgil #switched!logan #switched!patton #borrower!roman #borrower!logan #human!virgil #human!patton #human!thomas #giant/tin #borrowers #borrower #sequel

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megalony · 5 years

Text

So many reasons- Part 12

Yet another part of my latest Roger Taylor series, thank you again for all the lovely comments.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6

Series taglist: @scarecrowmax @demo-wise @rogertaylors-lipgloss @caborhapch @asquiresofftime

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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

"I'll come by tomorrow with the rest of the boys." John commented as he stretched his arms above his head to straighten out his joints. His head leaning to either side to sort out his neck before he looked over to (Y/n). Whilst the girls were at school or nursery (Y/n) came down to the hospital to keep a check on Roger and had stayed over a few nights. None of the boys had seen Roger without her sitting quietly by his side to keep an eye on him and all of them thought it endearing yet a little heartbreaking at the same time. The sight was one that evoked tears in all of their eyes.

John had come by this morning to check on the drummer, wondering if there was any progress being made in his recovery so far. Entering the room to find (Y/n) where she normally was, sitting in the chair on Roger's right. Her hand clasped around his own as her other hand gently traced designs over the back of his hand. Whispering something to him about the previous day to keep him up to date. Sometimes people in comas could still hear what was going on and if that was the case (Y/n) decided she would talk to Roger, knowing he didn't like silence, even when sleeping the drummer liked some kind of background noise.

A tired smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips as she nodded. John had been down every day since Roger's operation, sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes longer. He always made sure to check in and he was glad he did today since he was informed that Roger should be able to come out of the coma soon, his lungs beginning to recover rather well.

Walking around to where (Y/n) was sitting John rested a hand to her shoulder, leaning to press a kiss to her forehead. His hand squeezing her shoulder before he turned and left the room.

After a while (Y/n) pulled her knees up to her stomach, her right hand propping her head up as she closed her eyes for a little while. Her left hand wrapped around Roger's limp one like it had been since the moment she had sat down next to him. Maybe Roger could feel her hand entwined with his own, maybe he couldn't feel anything at all. It didn't really matter at this point, the contact showed (Y/n) that he was still there and hadn't left her yet like he was so worried he may have done.

There was a small part of (Y/n) that wished Roger would suddenly squeeze her hand or pull it to his chest. Just to show that he was alright but she knew that couldn't happen just yet. This wasn't the kind of coma where they had to wait for him to break out of it on his own. This was the kind where they had given him medication to keep him in this motionless, docile state so he didn't panic and could recover. This was a coma where they would give him medication to wake him up when they knew he was alright to be back in the land of the living again.

Roger wouldn't do very well if he woke up to find that there was a tube stretching down into his lungs since they had given up on him during surgery. He wouldn't be able to breathe on his own or swallow or move his mouth due to the tube keeping him alive and he wouldn't be able to talk either. That would be rather distressing for him to wake up and be in that kind of state and so sleep was the only state he could be in for the time being.

(Y/n) understood this, but it didn't mean she was happy about it. She just wanted Roger to wake up so they could get him better and bring him home. Although it was good he wasn't home just yet because then he would see all of the rumours splattered across the front page of every newspaper in London. People had heard and there had been witnesses to Roger drowning in blood last week. Then more people were telling the papers the drummer had been spotted every day at the hospital and word gets around quickly, especially with the band being seen entering and leaving the hospital this past week too. They knew Roger was ill and they knew he was receiving treatment, it was only a matter of time before Roger's health was to become tomorrow's news just like he didn't want.

Opening her eyes (Y/n) rolled her neck before rubbing at her tired eyes with the base of her hand. Taking deep breaths to try and wake herself up after the small cat nap she had taken.

Narrowing her eyes, (Y/n) turned her head to the left so she could look at Roger as if she would find his head turned a little to the side or something different about him. Her eyes never left his frame for a few seconds that felt like hours before her arms suddenly spasmed and pulled into her chest when Roger's chest suddenly jerked.

A look of horror came onto (Y/n)'s features when she noticed the muscles of Roger's throat tensing, the skin around his throat tightening and pulling inwards as a rather worrying sound escaped his lips like a suction of air. There was no need for her to reach over and press the emergency button as Roger's heartbeat spiked which automatically alerted a member of staff that something was not right. Roger's chest seemed to jerk again, his rather slim stomach sucking inwards until it nearly disappeared as his ribcage pushed outwards causing his back to arch just a little from the bed.

The monitor behind (Y/n) beeped at such a frantic pace that she winced from the piercing sound. Tears glazing over her eyes as another suctioned breath either pulled in or was pushed out through the tube as if the machine breathing for the drummer was having a malfunction.

A string of no's left (Y/n)'s lips before two nurses rushed into the room, pressing their pagers to signify that they had reached the point of emergency. (Y/n) didn't need to be told to move, her hand squeezing Roger's before she stood a few paces back but still within sight of her husband who was in some state of distress. (Y/n) wrapped one arm around her middle as if trying to hug herself for some form of comfort as her other hand pressed to her lips to smother a cry. Unsure whether Roger was suddenly having some kind of reaction to any medication he was being given or to the tube breathing for him or if there was anything else happening to him.

(Y/n) had to smother a scream when the nurse on Roger's left suddenly turned off the ventilator that was breathing for him.

What the hell was she doing?

"No, no what are you doing that for?!" The tears welling in (Y/n)'s eyes spilled over the surface, making their tracks down the curve of her nose, burning into her cheeks. Her body propelling forward only for the other nurse to hold her back at a distance. Roger needed that ventilator because he wasn't breathing on his own, didn't they know this?

"Calm down, Mrs Taylor. Your husband is choking on the tube because he is beginning to breathe on his own, he doesn't need the ventilator anymore." The nurse's hand rubbed soothingly up and down (Y/n)'s arm to try and calm her down, her head nodding that this was all okay and nothing bad was happening to Roger. When she was satisfied that (Y/n) wasn't going to try and intervene the nurse pulled back and turned around to help tend to Roger.

The other nurse quick to unclip the end of the tube that attached to the one leading down to Roger's lungs, pushing the ventilator out of the way since it was no longer of use to him. Grasping the tube they both glanced to each other before slowly pulling it from his lips. One holding his head in place and keeping his chest down as the other removed the tube causing Roger to gag. His chin tilting up subconsciously as the muscles of his throat flexed at the foreign feeling, unsure if what was happening was good or not.

Once the tube was removed, one of the nurses switched on an oxygen machine at her side, taking hold of the oxygen mask and gently holding it over Roger's lips and nose. Needing him to take deep breaths on his own so his lungs wouldn't be starved of the oxygen they had been supplied with.

"I'm going to get the doctor, I think it's best that he is woken up now."

(Y/n) couldn't find the ability to respond, even breathing seemed to become a struggle for her to the point she wanted to borrow the oxygen mask held to Roger's pale lips. She watched one nurse disappear out of the room as the other turned to swap the oxygen mask for a tube instead. Placing the tube around Roger's ears so it could settle under his nose for added precaution to stop his lungs from becoming starved.

Both of them watched the drummer take strangled breaths for air, his throat muscles expanding and tightening continuously causing him to wheeze as his lungs tried to work on their own. His chest in a state of shock from beginning to work to find that there was something doing the job for him. The monitor checking Roger's heartbeat had calmed down, still beating at a quickened pace but nothing that was as alerting or worrying as it had been moments before.

It didn't take long for Dr Freeman to enter the room with the nurse trailing behind him. His kind smile showing (Y/n) that this was a very good thing to have happened, it was just what they had been waiting for this past week. He wandered over to Roger, checking his pulse, looking at his vitals and checking his pupils before examining his chest.

"We are in luck, he's breathing perfectly fine on his own and his vitals are good. Shall we wake him up?" His eyes drifted up to lock with (Y/n)'s, silently asking her permission to bring the drummer back into the world of the living again. Watching her hand move to massage the side of her neck out of habit and instinct as she nodded, not trusting her voice due to the tears streaming down her face. He had seen her cry for worse reasons than this and she had looked far from pretty or okay in those situations. she didn't mind him seeing the flood of happy tears cascading down her features now.

Turning around Dr Freeman nodded before disappearing to get the necessary medication to bring the drummer around since there was no reason to keep him in this induced state of unconsciousness. He was breathing on his own, his lung was back to being in working order and his wounds were beginning to heal nicely from the operation. His recovery was heading in the right direction and Roger should be awake for the rest of it now.

He came back into the room in less than a minute, a rather large syringe in his hand that was just over halfway full with a clear liquid that (Y/n) guessed was going to bring Roger back around. Walking over to the drip that contained the painkillers Roger was on, the doctor pushed the switch to cut off the medication for the time being. Inserting the syringe into the small gap and injecting it all straight into Roger's vein.

It took little over a minute for Roger to begin to come back around, his breathing picking up causing a cough or even a choke to escape his parting lips as his hand twitched at his side. His eyes tightening before very slowly beginning to flutter open like butterfly wings. He couldn't fully open his eyes for a while due to the extreme lights in the room but when he did his head jerked to the side when Dr Freeman leaned over him. One hand gently pulling up his eyelid as the other flashed a light over his eye to check his pupils were constricting and dilating properly.

"Welcome back, Mr Taylor. Take a moment to calm down and adjust, are you in any pain at all?" Dr Freeman questioned, moving out to push the cap back down on Roger's drip to allow the medication to drop back into his vein in controlled doses.

"(Y/n)..." Was the only croaked response he seemed to get for the time being as Roger fisted his hand in the sheets, missing the touch of (Y/n) as he wondered what was happening. The last thing Roger remembered properly was asking the nurse to stop the radiotherapy because there was such a burning pain in his lung he knew couldn't be from the treatment. Before he was suddenly sitting up, an overwhelming feeling of not being able to breathe before he felt like he was throwing up from his lungs.

Roger had caught a glimpse of Dr Freeman entering the room as he spewed blood over the floor before his mind seemed to have a power cut and spark out on him. Little whispers and words here and there had drifted in and out of his head, he recognised the voices at the time but now all he was sure of was he had some kind of reaction during treatment before waking up here.

"She's here." He responded, beckoning (Y/n) over as the nurses took their leave seeing that Roger was alright and having no problems or reactions. "Well, your vitals look good, your responses are normal and if you're in no pain then I can leave you both for a while."

"No pain, doc." Roger confirmed, such a tidal wave of relief washing over him when (Y/n) took his hand that he almost stopped breathing for a second time in one week. A smile pulling at his lips to which the doctor returned before he took his leave, allowing the couple to have a moment to themselves before he was back for more routine checks and to go over a few things.

"Hey, you." (Y/n) mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the bed before leaning over with her free hand, gently carding her fingers through Roger's hair. The tears wouldn't stop falling but she could barely register them anymore. Her body felt like it was on cloud nine after being sucked into an abyss for the past week wondering if she was going to be faced with the prospect of losing the drummer. Now he was awake right in front of her, he was breathing and he was talking and smiling just like he had been before, he was out of the immediate danger zone and (Y/n) was forever grateful for that.

Roger smiled, closing his eyes for a moment as he brought (Y/n)'s hand to his lips, their fingers entwining together before he cautiously looked down to his chest. A frown overtaking his smile when he noticed the bandages surrounding his chest.

(Y/n) quickly looped an arm under his to help him sit up when he tried and failed to push himself up. His hand grasping onto her shoulder to sit himself up, leaning back when (Y/n) moved the pillow for him. Her eyes watching him with fear and pain when he nudged her arm away as she tried to stop him from moving the bandages. His left hand that wasn't holding her own pulled the top of the bandages down towards his stomach a guttural sound mixing with a choke left his lips when he looked at the damage. Every inch of his chest was burning red like it had been burnt with a flame, his previous scar was inflamed just like his skin and his rash from treatment had spread a little more. But the pain concern for Roger was the slash mark an inch or so beneath the first one that extended across his sternum and was littered with stitches that he dared not touch.

What had they done to him?

"W-what... what happened?" He croaked, his hand hovering over his chest as he looked up to (Y/n). Accepting the glass of water she offered him before daring to explain. Knowing his throat must hurt from the tube that had scratched away at his throat for almost a week now.

"There was a mass pressing on an artery in your lung... it burst the artery from the pressure. They took you for surgery and removed part of your lung after they stopped the bleed... but you stopped breathing during surgery so they put you on a ventilator. You've been in an induced coma for a week, Rog." He had fainted during treatment and had woken up to be told that he had missed a week of his life. He had gone to surgery and had almost died on the operating table whilst they stole part of his lung and kept him purposely asleep for the past week of his life.

"Oh God."

(Y/n) quickly pulled him into her arms, being careful of his inflamed chest, not wanting to touch an area in case it sparked pain or some kind of discomfort for him. It was a lot to take in, but the main thing was he was awake now. He had come back to them and everyone would be forever thankful for that.

"Shh, it's gonna be alright. You're back with us now, the girls came to see you the other day. They can't wait for you to come home to us." The drummer took her by surprise when he cupped her face, bringing her closer so he could plant his slightly chapped lips against her own. He had been out of it for a week, he needed to see and be with all his girls now.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #imagine #queen band #so many reasons

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