#couldn't promise no blood no bruises

[halinski]

Trigger warning for sh topic in tags, just me rambling, dont read, if you do its at your own risk of wasting your time lol 🙈

[nezuscribe]

(nsfw, 18+)

there are some things that toji isn't necessarily proud of.

he's not a fan of the fact that he comes home grimy every night, fingernails caked with blood. he doesn't like that the stupid scar on his lip hasn't faded and he hates the fact that he didn't marry you first.

"f-fuck, toji...!" you squealed out, your face being smushed into the pillow as he pounded into you from behind, his grips on your hips bruising.

"yeah? you good?" he cheekily asked, a smug smirk on his face as you blabbered some nonsense out, insistently shaking your head yes.

it was just so unfair that he met you, his pretty neighbor, after he moved in. his relationship with his wife was already straining, he could feel her cold demeanor towards him every time they went to sleep.

but you were so nice to him and his kid, a warm smile on your face as you waved over to them. megumi liked you too, hell, toji was sure he liked you more than his own mother, and to top it all off, once you started babysitting megumi he couldn't control his emotions.

it took one night of too much alcohol and lust filled eyes and now, toji can no longer go two days without fucking your sweet pussy.

"let go, come on," he groaned, his scar twitching as he pressed slopping kisses down your spine, "tell me how much y'love me," his balls slapped lewdly against your pussy and he loved to sounds it made.

"love you, mpf! l-love you s'much toji," you whined out, fingers gripping his bedsheets as his thumb swiped down at your clit, your eyes rolling backwards at his motion. you could never last too long with toji, and he knew just what to do to make you unravel.

"good girl, fuck, you're so tight, so good f'me," he praised, his head dragging against your tight walls as he felt the two of you getting closer, "'gonna file the papers tomorrow, then yer finally and officially 'gonna be mine. like that? hm baby?"

you nodded again, words escaping your mouth as toji picked up his pace, his hips slamming into yours as you felt yourself about the let go, your release just moments away from you.

"'m'yours toji, fuuuuck!" you promised, and that's all it took his him to sputter, filling you up as your walls clenched around him, your orgasm so quick, so sinful, so good that you almost passed out.

you would have if not for him leaning down to your ear, that shit-eating grin still on his face as he kissed your cheek,

"up fer another round? 'wanna risk it?"

and you nodded again, knowing that you could never say no to toji.

[torikuna]

i promise i won't hurt you again

synopsis: your boyfriend Sukuna accidentally hit you

you immediately realized something was wrong when the door to your apartment slammed shut with a sharp sound and an uncomfortably loud silence echoed throughout the entire apartment. instead of the usual “woman, i’m home” you were greeted by heavy and fast steps past your room. you heard Sukuna walk into the kitchen, swearing loudly and throwing his things on the couch

you slowly opened the door and walked into the kitchen where Sukuna stood with his back to you in the dim light of the kitchen lamps. the dim light alighted his large figure, permeating under his unbuttoned shirt, through which the curves of his toned body were visible. his shoulders were rising at an unusually rapid pace, his breathing was heavy, causing the air to narrow around you, bringing you anxiety. it felt like the heavy air was going to crush you, you were ready to literally suffocate, not knowing where to start

“Sukuna?” you asked quietly, moving closer to him, but he murmuring something under his breath, hitting the wall. his unpredictable action made you flinch and stop a few meters away from him. you realized that he was far from reality and the level of his anger was uncontrollable. but you decided to try again, reaching for his hand, gently touching his fingers. but he suddenly grabs your hand, squeezes it with a burning pain and and forcefully pushes you aside

you fall to the floor, holding your hand. a bright red mark instantly appears from his action. the mark begins to acquire more saturated and varied shades with bloody stains. all you could do was hold your hand and look at Sukuna with confusing eyes that were slowly gathering tears

“don't you see i'm in a bad mood? stupid woman” Sukuna says, looking at you over his shoulder with his blood-crimson eyes, burning with a fiery fire and rage towards all living things. he takes his jacket and walks past you, walking out of the apartment and onto the street, leaving you alone

about 30 minutes had passed since Sukuna had left the apartment. you had time to revive, get the medicine and start treating the bruise. holding a cold compress on the hand, you heard the front door open again. it was Sukuna. he looked calmer than before. his breathing had evened out, and the hostile look had disappeared from his face, replacing it with his usual frowning and emotionless expression

he looked at you standing by the kitchen unit with the medicine on it and walked over. he grabbed your sore wrist, looking at the extent of the damage he had done to you. he decided to take care of the rest of the bruise himself, his thoughtful expression screaming too loudly that he felt too guilty

an unfamiliar feeling arose inside his chest, stemming from guilt. something was tormenting him deeply and he found he was mad at himself. feelings he was pushing into the background were beyond his control. he couldn't control his anger, he couldn't protect you from himself, hurting you

“…i promise i won't hurt you again” Sukuna said huskily, breaking the silence between you two and he makes sure to keep his promise because you are the most precious thing he has.

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ I COULDN'T BE MORE IN LOVE

small gestures of affection with itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, and kamo choso

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), some of these don't really fit the prompt but whatever lol, cw for mentions of blood/injuries in megumi and choso's, inspired by this prompt list by @euthymiaaa not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes, title from the 1975 - i couldn't be more in love

“yuuji,” your voice cuts through the chaos swirling throughout ITADORI YUUJI’S mind effortlessly. he freezes, swiftly turning on his heel to face you. you softly smile as you take a step closer to him, gesturing to the mess of fabric messily woven into itself. “do you need some help?”

“yeah,” yuuji nods, tugging at his tie until it falls flat against his chest once again. “some help would be nice.”

taking the fabric into your hands, you weave the ends together to form a small knot near the center of yuuji’s chest. carefully, you slide it upwards until it sits snugly at the center of yuuji’s neck. “you’ve never had to wear a suit before, have you?”

“i’m sorry,” he nervously chuckles. he unconsciously raises a hand, absentmindedly brushing a hand through the little hairs near the nape of his neck. “i’ve never had a reason to dress up before.”

you simply chuckle in response, reaching up and attempting to smooth away the wrinkles in the fabric. your fingertips trace the edges, hiding away any loose threads or imperfections from the tailoring. “it’s alright. i don’t mind.”

you reach upwards, caressing his cheek with your thumb. your fingertips brush against the edges of the small curse marks beneath his eyes, making yuuji smile brightly. “you look really nice, yuuji.”

a light flush spreads across his face, tinting his face a deep pink. he smiles softly, replying, “but not as good as you.”

“you’re awake.” 

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI softly groans, squinting up at the ceiling above as the blurriness slowly begins to clear from his vision. he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before the ringing in his ears dissipates, leaving only the quiet hum from a nearby fan to fill the silence. 

the first thing megumi notices is your eyes. if he didn’t know any better, he would have missed the eyebags that he could’ve sworn weren’t there this morning and the slight nervous shake in your hands when you reach over to pass him a bottle of water. guilt settles into the pit of his stomach before he can will it away. “what happened?”

“a curse hit you into a wall. ieiri said it was a severe concussion.” megumi nods. reaching up, he carefully brushes a hand against the bandages wrapped tightly around his forehead. he can still vaguely taste the blood that filled his mouth after the injury. “don’t worry. i took care of the curse.” 

“thank you.” he sighs, carefully pushing his body to sit upwards. “i’m sorry i worried you.”

megumi’s breath catches in his throat when you reach over, taking his hands into your own. blood rushes to his cheeks, spreading an embarrassingly obvious flush across his features. butterflies swarm throughout his stomach in waves as your fingertips trace along the fresh bruises staining his pale skin before you settle for intertwining your hands together. “i’m just glad you’re safe,” you smile, sealing your promise with a soft squeeze.

GOJO SATORU awakens to the sight of sunlight threatening to break through the closed blinds. rays of light illuminate your bedroom, casting a golden glow across your features. he groans as he rolls onto his side, stretching out his tired limbs beneath the covers. 

your quiet chuckle from beside him breaks him out of his trance. satoru blinks the sleepiness away from his eyes as he shifts, moving to face in your direction. stray strands of white hair frame his sharp features. your gaze the jagged edges of the few scars that litter his bare chest, admiring the aspects that make him human.

without the usual blindfold covering his face, your gaze rises to meet satoru’s. his eyes are the colour of the ocean. the shine like gemstones - brilliant and blue. you reach upwards, carefully carding your hand through his bangs. the strands are soft against your skin as you weave them in between your fingertips; he sighs as your nails gently massage against his scalp. “good morning, satoru.”

under the safety of your comforter, satoru allows the weight of the world to slip off of his shoulders. he smiles softly, shuffling across the sheets to entangle your bodies together. his hands skim the hem of his stolen t-shirt; his fingertips threaten to slip beneath the fabric to ghost against your bare skin. he leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss against your cheek as he wraps his arms around you. “morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

KAMO CHOSO can feel the gentle burn of ice against his fingertips as he carefully holds the ice pack against your face. hues of purple and green bloom against your cheek, staining your skin with the temporary consequences of being too headstrong in a fight. dark, worried eyes meet your own when he looks up. “for what?”

you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, anxiously chewing on the flesh until choso takes your hand into his own. he unconsciously rubs his thumb against your knuckles, tracing the scars decorating your skin - a gentle reminder to relax before your teeth cause a new wound. “being stubborn. dragging you into the fight. not waiting for backup.”

choso’s lips quirk into a slight frown. “i’m not upset at you,” he begins. you flinch slightly when he adjusts the angle of the ice pack until it presses against a fresh area of the bruise. the shake in his hands is unmistakable when he brushes his fingertips against the edge of your jaw. “it… worries me,” he mumbles. his gaze has fallen, now staring at the bandages woven tightly around your bicep. his anxiety had provided enough positive energy to prevent any serious injuries, but you still needed stitches after he dragged you into the safety of shoko’s office. “when you’re reckless. your body isn’t as easy to heal as mine is.”

“i’m sorry i worried you.” you reach up, pulling choso’s hand away from your face. “i’ll be more careful next time.” you toss the ice pack to the side; choso’s cheeks flush when you press a feather-light kiss against his knuckles. “thank you.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

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[lila-lou]

✨Pumpkin Spice Latte✨

Summary: After a rough hunt leaves Dean bruised and exhausted, the last thing he’s up for is a Halloween party.

-Halloween-Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Age Gap, Language, Fluff, Dean being in pain

Word Count: 6041

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💛

Dean wrinkled his nose, glaring at the cup you'd just shoved into his hand. "What the hell is this? It smells like shit!", he grumbled, giving the cup a suspicious look. He was already settled in the driver’s seat, clearly not thrilled with whatever concoction you'd handed him.

You chuckled, tossing your handbag into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat. "Relax, Dean", you said, grinning as you leaned over and snatched the cup back from him. "It's a pumpkin spice latte—the best thing on earth".

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced. "Pumpkin what? Since when do pumpkins belong in coffee?".

You just laughed, taking a sip and savoring the sweet, spiced warmth. "Since forever, you just haven't lived until you’ve tried it".

Dean gave a low grunt, his eyes flicking from the road to the cup in your hand, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure, whatever makes you happy". He muttered something about it being "a waste of perfectly good coffee" under his breath, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he started the Impala.

You watched Dean out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the wet road ahead. The rain tapped rhythmically against the windshield, blurring the autumn scenery. The streets were lined with wet, brown leaves, clinging to the pavement from the downpour. It was October 31st, Halloween, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of what was coming tonight.

"So", you began, teasingly dragging out the word as you took another sip of your pumpkin spice latte, "you really going to keep sulking about the party, or are you going to try and enjoy yourself tonight?".

Dean’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his eyes on the road, the Impala’s wipers swishing back and forth as they cleared the rain. "I told you, I’m too old for that crap", he grumbled. "Costumes and fake blood? I’m living that nightmare every day. Don’t need to do it for fun".

You couldn't help but laugh softly, turning to fully face him. "Oh, come on, Dean. You're not that old". You leaned closer, resting your elbow on the console, grinning mischievously. "Besides, you promised you'd come. You can handle one night of normal fun, right? Maybe even dance a little".

He gave you a sidelong glance, his lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a heavy sigh. "Normal fun? Is that what we're calling this?".His voice was thick with sarcasm, but you noticed the faintest hint of a smile creeping up as he continued. "I swear, if anyone tries to put me in some ridiculous costume—".

"Relax, grumpy", you interrupted, laughing again. "I already picked out something easy for you. You just have to show up and look hot, which, lucky for you, you do naturally".

Dean scoffed but finally turned to give you a quick look, his green eyes flashing with amusement. "Yeah, well, you’re lucky I’m putting up with this at all. Only reason I’m going is ‘cause you’re twenty-five and apparently this kind of stuff is still a thing for you".

You reached over, resting your hand on his knee. "And that’s why you’re the best. But seriously, it won’t be that bad. Just a few hours, a few drinks, and then you can come back to being your broody, old self". You winked, knowing how to push his buttons just enough to get that reaction out of him.

Dean groaned dramatically, shaking his head as the Impala cruised down the slick streets. "I don’t know what I got myself into with you, sweetheart".

You grinned, settling back into your seat, the warmth of the car contrasting with the cold, rainy night outside. "You’re gonna have fun, Winchester. You just wait".

Dean pulled the Impala smoothly to a stop in front of your apartment complex, the rumble of the engine quieting as he turned off the ignition. The rain had softened to a steady drizzle, but the streets were still slick, shimmering under the streetlights. You glanced over at him with a small smile, grateful he’d driven you home instead of making some excuse to drop you off and head back to whatever hunt he had lined up next.

Every now and then, you managed to convince him to stay at your place, craving at least a few hours of something that felt like a normal relationship. Over time, Dean had slowly gotten used to the idea, and now your apartment was almost as much his as it was yours. He had a drawer in your bedroom, his favorite flannel hung in your closet, and you were pretty sure he had stashed at least two knives and a flask of holy water somewhere between your kitchen and your living room.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool evening air, you reached into the backseat to grab your handbag, then made your way towards the stairs. Dean followed behind, the sound of his boots heavy on the rain-slicked steps. You felt his presence just behind you, a constant, reassuring force in your life that somehow made everything feel safer, even when you both knew it never really was.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, you turned to him with a smirk and held out your pumpkin spice latte again. “Hold this”, you teased, already anticipating his eye roll.

Dean stared at the cup like it personally offended him but took it from your hands with a reluctant sigh. “You really gonna make me carry this thing again?”, he muttered, though the playful glint in his eyes told you he didn’t mind as much as he let on.

You shrugged, turning back to unlock the front door. “Hey, consider it training. Maybe someday you’ll be converted to the greatness of pumpkin spice”.

“Not a chance in hell”, Dean grumbled behind you, though his tone was lighter now, more relaxed.

You unlocked the front door to the building, the soft click barely audible over the rain still pattering outside. Dean followed you inside, as you climbed the short flight to your apartment on the first floor. The air in the hallway was thick with the scent of old wood and rain-soaked leaves, familiar and comforting in a strange way. Dean, though, had that ever-present edge about him, his eyes darting briefly to every shadow, every dark corner, even in this quiet space. It was his nature to be alert, always ready for whatever might come.

You reached your apartment door and dug the keys out of your bag, glancing at him as you slid the key into the lock. “You know, you could relax, Dean. I promise there’s nothing lurking in the hallway tonight”.

Dean huffed softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, right. You never know. Last thing I need is to get jumped by a demon on a coffee run”. He handed you the cup again, shaking his head. “Here, take your damn pumpkin milk. Thing’s probably cursed”.

You chuckled, taking the cup back as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, the warmth of the apartment immediately wrapping around you. “No demons tonight”, you promised, stepping out of your shoes by the door. “Just you, me, and some quality time before we have to deal with the craziness later”.

Dean followed you inside, his usual routine kicking in. He tossed his keys on the small table near the entrance, his eyes sweeping the room in his typical hunter way, as if something might have changed in the time you’d been gone. It hadn’t, of course—everything was just as it always was, cozy and familiar.

You placed your latte on the kitchen counter, watching him as he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. Despite the tough exterior, there was a comfort Dean found here, whether he’d admit it or not. He didn’t need to be on high alert every second he was with you, and in moments like this, you could see the faintest bit of ease slip into his posture.

“Feels good to be back here”, you said softly, moving to stand beside him. “Even if you don’t like to admit it”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a slight grin. “I don’t dislike it”. He glanced around as if contemplating his next words. “You got room for all my crap here now anyway. Might as well use it”.

You smiled, standing on your toes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “That’s a start”.

You watched Dean with a quiet smile as he settled in, kicking off his boots and grabbing a beer from your fridge without so much as a word. It had taken time for him to feel at home here, but now, it was second nature. You knew he would never fully leave the bunker or Sammy—that was his world, his responsibility. But nights like this, when you could have him here, even for a little while, it was all you asked for.

Slipping off your coat, you draped it over the chair by the kitchen and made your way towards the double glass doors that led out to the small balcony. The rain was heavier now, coming down in sheets and turning the streetlights outside into glowing halos in the mist. You stood there for a moment, listening to the familiar hum of the rain as it splashed against the balcony, the rhythmic sound somehow making everything feel even cozier inside.

Turning back, you caught sight of Dean on the couch, already making himself comfortable. He had plopped down heavily, his beer in one hand as he took a long drink. His flannel had ridden up slightly in the process, exposing a strip of skin along his stomach, the curve of muscle there a casual reminder of just how strong he really was. He glanced over at you, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”, he asked, his eyebrow raised in that typical, playful way, though you could see the weariness just beneath the surface.

He had only been back for a day after spending over two grueling weeks on the East Coast with Sam and Cas, hunting down a particularly nasty group of demons. It was a brutal case, by the sound of it—full of close calls, too many injuries, and not enough rest.

You could still see the faint marks of it on him now. Scratches over his arms, a bruise along his jawline that hadn’t quite faded yet, and the way he moved, just a little too carefully, told you his ribs were still aching. But Dean being Dean, he’d never admit to being in pain. Too proud. Too stubborn. It was like he wore his injuries like another layer of armor, determined not to show weakness, even when he was home with you.

But despite all that, despite the rough edges and the exhaustion he carried like a weight on his shoulders, you had missed him more than you could put into words. And now, just seeing him here, sprawled out on your couch, looking so effortlessly Dean with that lazy grin and the hint of his v-line peeking out from beneath his flannel, you felt a surge of warmth run through you. It pooled low in your belly, a slow heat building at the simple sight of him, all muscle and raw presence, even in his most relaxed state.

Heat rising to your cheeks as you tore your gaze away from his exposed skin, trying not to let it show just how much you had missed everything about him. But Dean, of course, noticed.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice rough, but teasing, as he took another slow sip of his beer. His eyes were on you now, sharp despite the tiredness behind them, and you could feel that familiar pull between the two of you, like an unspoken challenge.

You shook your head slightly, trying to play it cool, though you could feel the heat still simmering beneath your skin. “Just… glad you’re home”, you said softly, your voice carrying more weight than you intended. You met his gaze again, knowing full well he could see right through you, but in moments like this, you didn’t care.

Dean set his beer down on the table, leaning back into the couch, his eyes still locked on you. “Yeah?”, he asked, his voice a little softer now. “I missed you, too”. There was no teasing in his tone this time, just honesty, plain and simple, and it hit you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

You crossed the room and sat beside him, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours, even though he was still being careful not to show just how sore he really was. You reached out, your hand resting gently on his side, just above where you knew his broken rib was, and he flinched, just a little. “Dean…”, you started, your voice quiet as you brushed your thumb over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“I told you I’m fine”, he muttered, that stubborn edge creeping back into his voice as he glanced away. But you could feel how tightly he was wound, the pain he was hiding, and it tugged at your heart.

You gave him a look, one that you knew would cut through his defenses. “You don’t always have to be fine, you know”.

Dean sighed, his shoulders dropping just a little as he looked back at you. His expression softened, and for a moment, the tough hunter exterior slipped away. “Yeah, well… old habits”, he murmured, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

Without saying anything, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, careful not to aggravate any of his bruises, and you felt him relax, just a little, under your touch. “Just… let me take care of you tonight”, you whispered against his skin, your lips brushing the edge of his stubble. “You’ve been through enough”.

Dean closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as if he was finally letting himself take in the comfort you were offering. His arm came around you, pulling you in closer, and you could feel the tension melting from his body, even if just for a moment.

“Alright”, he murmured, his voice low and rough, “but don’t go thinking this makes me soft”.

You chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to his jaw, your hand sliding up to rest against his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Winchester”.

Dean let out a low hum, his fingers brushing through your hair as he held you close, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like the world outside had finally quieted.

You grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, letting the soft murmur of the background noise fill the room. A movie, maybe something familiar, began playing as you stood up, casting one last glance at Dean, who was already half-lost in the feel of the couch beneath him, his eyes lazily following you as you made your way toward the bedroom.

The door was open, giving Dean a clear view from where he sat, and you could feel his eyes on you as you reached for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head. The soft fabric fell to the floor, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you stripped down to your underwear. You knew Dean was watching, his gaze heating up the space between you, and despite the comfort of the moment, the tension between you remained undeniable, lingering in the air like a spark waiting to catch fire.

You moved to your drawer, rummaging through for something cozy to slip into, all while feeling Dean’s eyes still fixed on you.

You smiled to yourself as your fingers brushed against one of Dean’s flannels, the fabric soft and worn from years of use. It had practically become yours by now, a constant fixture in your drawer because, if you were being honest, you loved wearing his clothes just as much as he loved seeing you in them. There was something comforting about it—the way it smelled faintly of him, how the sleeves were just a bit too long on you. It was like wrapping yourself in his presence, even when he wasn’t around.

You slipped it on, the familiar fabric brushing against your skin, warm and soft, the scent of Dean still lingering faintly on it. As you buttoned it up, you could feel the way his gaze lingered on you from the other room, a quiet intensity that sent a thrill through you.

Turning slightly, you caught a glimpse of him from the doorway. Dean had shifted on the couch, his body tense in that subtle way he tried to hide, the beer now forgotten on the table beside him. His green eyes were locked on you, darker now, his focus entirely on the way the flannel draped over your frame. You knew what he was thinking without him having to say a word.

The way the flannel clung to you, oversized but unmistakably his, seemed to ignite something in him. It made it clear that, despite everything—the danger, the hunts, the weeks spent apart—you were his. And you knew it, too. The way his eyes darkened when you wore his clothes, that quiet possessiveness that was always just under the surface, was something you both understood without words.

You stepped out of the bedroom and crossed the room, feeling the warmth in his gaze follow you. When you got close enough, Dean reached out, his hand catching yours, gently tugging you toward him.

You obliged without hesitation, letting Dean pull you down onto his lap. His hands immediately settled on your hips, his grip firm but gentle, the warmth of his touch spreading through the thin fabric of the flannel. You could feel the solidness of him beneath you, the tension in his muscles slowly unraveling as you leaned into him.

Dean’s green eyes were locked on yours, dark and intense, filled with that familiar mix of desire and something deeper—something that told you just how much he had missed you, how much you meant to him. His thumb brushed lightly against your waist, tracing lazy circles over the flannel, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You have any idea what you do to me?”, he muttered, his voice low, rough, barely above a whisper. His hands tightened slightly on your hips as he pulled you just a little closer.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you shifted in his lap, the movement making him let out a low groan from deep in his chest. “Maybe”, you teased, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “But I like hearing you say it”.

Dean chuckled softly, though it was thick with that familiar edge of want. His hand slid up your back, pulling you flush against him, his lips grazing your neck as he spoke, his voice a soft rumble against your skin. “You’re driving me crazy”.

You shivered at the feel of his breath on your neck, your fingers tangling in the soft fabric of his shirt. “Good”, you whispered, leaning down to brush your lips against his in a teasing, feather-light kiss.

Dean’s grip tightened at your waist, and before you could pull away, he captured your lips with his, the kiss deepening instantly. It was full of everything that had been building between you—the weeks of being apart, the constant danger, the unspoken need for each other that seemed to intensify every time you were together. His hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you close as his lips moved against yours, slow and intense, like he was savoring every second.

You melted into him, your body fitting perfectly against his, the familiar scent of leather, rain, and Dean filling your senses. His other hand roamed over your back, his touch both gentle and possessive, like he needed the physical reassurance that you were here, with him, right now.

When you finally pulled back, your breath coming in shallow bursts, you rested your forehead against his, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. His eyes were still dark, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath, but there was a softness in his expression now, a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”, you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “You’re stuck with me”.

Dean’s eyes softened at your words, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as he smiled, that rare, genuine smile that he only ever gave you. “I’m counting on it”, he murmured, his voice rough but full of warmth.

You shifted slightly in his lap, and there was no mistaking the growing tension between you as you felt his arousal pressing against you, straining against his jeans. Heat pooled low in your belly, and you bit your lip, your mind already drifting toward the thought of pushing things further.

But then your eyes flicked down to his side, where you knew his injured rib was hidden beneath his shirt, still healing from the hunt. You could almost feel the dull ache he must’ve been pushing through, despite how well he masked it with his usual bravado.

Your fingers brushed lightly over his chest, just above where the injury sat, and you glanced up at him, concern softening the heat that had been building. “You think a little… fun is going to hurt too much?”, you murmured softly, your voice full of both tease and care, your gaze flicking back to the spot where his broken rib was.

Dean let out a soft, low chuckle, his hands still resting firmly on your hips as he shook his head slightly. “Trust me, sweetheart”, he said, his voice rough, but there was a playful gleam in his eyes. “It’ll hurt more if we don’t”. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips along your jawline, his breath warm against your skin.

You let out a quiet sigh, your body instinctively responding to his touch, but still, you couldn’t help the slight worry that lingered in the back of your mind. You didn’t want to push him, not when he was still healing, even if he was far too stubborn to admit when he needed rest.

“Dean”, you whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still lightly tracing over the spot where his rib was. “I don’t want to hurt you. You should be resting”.

Dean’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing over your skin as he held your gaze, his expression softening just a little. “I’m fine”, he murmured, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “Yeah, it aches, but nothing I can’t handle”. He smirked then, a glint of mischief returning to his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Besides, there are worse ways to deal with pain”.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your heart fluttering at the familiar mix of playfulness and affection in his words. But still, you gave him a look, making sure he knew you weren’t entirely convinced.

He sighed softly, his hand sliding down to your waist again, his touch warm and steady. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll stop”, he promised, his eyes serious now. “But right now… I want you”.

Those last words sent a shiver through you, and the heat that had been simmering between you flared back to life. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss, your hands sliding up to cup his face as you deepened the kiss, pouring all your pent-up desire and affection into the moment.

Dean groaned softly against your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you even closer, the tension between you palpable now.

You shifted back slightly, settling more comfortably on his thighs to give yourself enough room to work. The tension between you two was electric, and you could feel Dean’s gaze fixed on you, his eyes dark and filled with anticipation as you reached down to unbuckle his belt. The soft click of the metal filled the quiet room, followed by the slow, deliberate sound of his zipper being undone.

Dean’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling beneath you as you teased him, your fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his jeans as you worked. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip tightening just slightly, as if he was barely holding himself back from taking control. But he let you set the pace, his patience a quiet reminder of how much he trusted you, how much he wanted you.

As you continued to ease his jeans and boxers down, Dean shifted his hips upward slightly, making it easier for you to pull the fabric down and free his hard length.

You took a moment to fully appreciate the sight of him, his arousal prominent and hard, the anticipation clear in the way his body tensed beneath you. You could feel the way his breathing grew more ragged, the muscles in his thighs tightening with the effort of holding himself in check.

You bit your lip, savoring the charged moment between you. With careful, deliberate movements, you took his length in your hand, feeling the heat and firmness of him. Dean’s breath hitched as you wrapped your fingers around him, his gaze locked on you, dark with desire.

As you shifted slightly, positioning yourself to align with him, Dean’s hands moved instinctively to guide you. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers brushing aside the fabric of your underwear to help you line up perfectly.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you carefully began to sink onto him. The sensation was intense, and even after being together for over three years, his size still took a moment to adjust to, and his reaction to your tightness was immediate. Dean’s breath caught in his throat, his grip on your hips tightening as he watched you with a mix of awe and desire.

“Damn, you’re tight”, he murmured, his voice rough with the effort of holding back. He tried to keep his tone light, teasing, but there was a clear edge of need in his words. “You trying to kill me here?”.

You smiled mischievously, a playful glint in your eye. “Maybe just trying to remind you of how good you’ve got it”, you teased, intentionally clenching around him with a slow, deliberate movement.

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a groan escaping his lips as he fought to maintain control. “Damn it”, he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl.

As you sank down completely, the full intensity of the connection took your breath away, every nerve alive with sensation. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on Dean's broad shoulders, the strength in them reassuring under your touch.

Dean's eyes opened again, locking onto yours with that fiery intensity that always managed to send shivers down your spine. "You sure you can handle this?", he teased, his voice a low rumble mixed with genuine concern for your comfort.

"I think the question is, can you handle it?", you retorted with a playful smirk, shifting slightly to adjust to the depth. The movement elicited a sharp inhale from Dean, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

You began to move, finding a steady pace, each movement synchronized to maximize the deep, intense connection. Dean watched you intently, his gaze never wavering, completely captivated by every expression that flickered across your face.

The room was filled with the sound of your synchronized breathing and the subtle shift of fabric as you moved together. Each of Dean's responses drove you further, his body reacting instinctively to yours, his touches and movements growing more confident and assertive.

"You feel amazing", Dean groaned, his head tipping back slightly as he absorbed every sensation. His words were laced with both pleasure and a bit of awe, as if even after years, the depth of your intimacy could still surprise him.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering softly, "Just keep up with me". The challenge was gentle but clear, and you could feel Dean's resolve firming. He shifted his grip, finding a new angle that drew a deep moan from your lips, clearly pleased with your reaction.

The pace quickened naturally, driven by mutual need and the profound connection you shared. Dean's hands explored your back, tracing lines of fire with every touch, his fingers pressing into your skin in encouragement and desire.

The world outside faded completely, leaving only the two of you lost in the rhythm and rush of overwhelming sensation. Every movement, every touch, was a reaffirmation of the deep, enduring bond between you, pushing each other towards a peak that was both intense and incredibly intimate.

As Dean hit all the right spots, the pleasure built rapidly within you. Each movement seemed to push you closer to the edge, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Your moans grew louder, each sound a testament to how well he knew your body and how perfectly he fit inside you.

“Dean”, you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure as your back arched, your head falling back. The sensation of him inside you was electrifying, the friction and depth making it impossible to hold back. You clenched around him, the tightness pushing him closer to his own release.

Dean responded with a low, guttural groan, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he felt you tighten around him. His own pleasure built rapidly, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven bursts. The way you were moving, the way you were squeezing him, was almost too much to handle.

The pressure within you reached a peak, and with a final, intense clench, you felt the waves of your climax crashing over you. Your body trembled, your moans a mix of ecstasy and relief as you finally let go, the pleasure overwhelming.

The sensation of your climax triggered Dean’s release as well. He let out a throaty groan, his body tensing as he came, the force of it pushing him into a shuddering, intense orgasm.

But as Dean’s body tensed with the force of his release, he let out a strained gasp, a sharp pain flaring in his injured rib. The sudden jolt of discomfort cut through the haze of pleasure, causing him to stiffen and wince.

“Shit”, he muttered, his voice tight with both pleasure and pain. He tried to mask it, but the strain was evident in the way he clenched his jaw and the slight grimace that crossed his face.

You immediately noticed the shift, your pleasure quickly giving way to concern. You could feel his discomfort and moved carefully, your hands reaching up to cradle his face. “You´re okay?”, you asked, your voice soft with worry. “Does it hurt?”.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of lingering desire and discomfort. “Just a little”, he admitted, trying to brush off the pain. ���Didn’t expect it to flare up like that, though”.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea”, you mumbled softly, your voice filled with concern as you carefully shifted off of him, moving slowly to avoid causing him any more discomfort. Dean let out a small, half-hearted chuckle, his hand brushing over his rib as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Yeah, probably should’ve taken it easy”, he admitted, his voice still rough but laced with a bit of humor. He gave you a reassuring look, but you could see the lingering tension in his eyes.

As you sat up, you quickly pulled your panties back into place, trying to prevent the inevitable mess of your combined release. You caught Dean watching you with a faint smirk, despite the pain, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

“You’re still smirking even when you’re in pain?”, you teased lightly, reaching for a nearby throw blanket to cover him up. “You really are something else, Winchester”.

Dean shrugged, wincing slightly at the motion. “What can I say? You have that effect on me”.

While Dean carefully tugged himself back into his jeans, you slipped off to the bathroom, moving quickly to clean yourself up. As you splashed water on your face, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror, your thoughts racing. Despite his humor, the tension in Dean’s expression had been clear—his rib was still bothering him more than he was letting on.

By the time you returned, Dean was sprawled back on the couch, the blanket draped loosely over him. His eyes were half-lidded, the weariness from both the hunt and the earlier moment of intensity catching up to him. You stood in the doorway for a moment, biting your lip as you took him in.

"Maybe we should stay in", you suggested softly, stepping toward him. "Forget the party".

Dean looked up at you, his expression softening as he registered your words. He gave a slight shake of his head, attempting to brush it off, but you could see the exhaustion creeping up on him. "I’m fine", he muttered, trying to sit up a little straighter. "I can handle it".

You crossed the room and sat down next to him, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Dean, you’re not fooling anyone", you said softly, your tone filled with concern. "You need to rest. That rib isn’t going to heal if you keep pushing yourself".

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew you were right, but the stubbornness in him didn’t want to admit it. "I just didn’t want to ruin your plans", he admitted quietly, glancing up at you. "You were excited about the party".

You smiled gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "The party doesn’t matter", you whispered against his skin. "What matters is you. I’d rather spend the night here with you, making sure you’re okay".

Dean’s eyes softened at that, the fight leaving him as he finally relaxed against the couch. "You really don’t mind?", he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

You shook your head, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Not at all", you replied, your voice filled with warmth. "Besides, staying in with you sounds a lot better than any party".

Dean smiled, the tension in his body easing as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "Alright", he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I guess we’re staying in, then".

You snuggled into his side, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing calming your own racing heart. The rain outside continued to fall in a soft, soothing patter, and in the quiet comfort of the moment, you both knew you had made the right choice.

Tonight would be just for the two of you, no parties, no distractions—just the peace of being together.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573

[suguru-getos]

What about yan Satosugu who take it too far? Imagine them breaking their darling to a damage they can’t repair?

ksjdfshgkkjsh this is my favorite troupe.

warnings: v v v dark! (reader die-th? reader can contemplate :3), belt-spanking, reader ran away from satosugu, mentions of throwing-up, abuse, self-harm.

"please daddy, please no no no…" little human that satoru and suguru loved oh so much, why did you have to escape? it breaks their heart. you know it just from their facial expressions. "suguru- please" you whine out, shuddering and crying with wailing screams. you are hung from the ceiling, throttling on your tippytoes, ass bruised from the way the belt welts on you. you are bleeding from the skin breaking. "daddy- please." your voice stops coming out from your throat, too traumatized and destroyed by screaming and wailing for mercy. "please- please" you are wheezing out in air, your own voice has given up. "ssh, it's okay. just 4 more." suguru chides, "didn't want to hurt you." he muses, landing the smack of the belt across your ass once more. satoru smirked, oh you look so cute, unable to scream anymore and just dancing on your feet with the impact. you feel nausea hurling your movements, throwing up because you couldn't take it anymore. though nothing comes out except water… you haven't eaten well, since after your running spree.

that stops suguru, and satoru hugs you gently. "just three more." they have decided they would finish the punishment no matter what. "sshh~ don't worry, doing so good for us. I will clean you up." if you really can't be theirs, they would make you fear them into submission. make you fear them and forcefully take their love which they're owed.

the next three hits come, and when it stops. you're too dazed with pain to even register the comfort. the flesh of your ass raw and agitated. bruised, welted, veins popped and skin breaking in blood. "ssh ssh, that's it. it's over now. you did so good. it's all over." suguru coos, demeanor changed instantly as he gathers you in his arms. immediately taking you towards the bathroom. they need to clean up their poor baby. "why do you even run away angel… do you not know we are the strongest?"

satoru sighs, he is still wrangled by the feeling of betrayal intertwined with the feeling of guilt for giving you so much pain, panic and trauma.

"that's okay princess… you wouldn't do it again right? tell suguru you wouldn't do it again." he asks you gently, ignoring the way your half-lidded eyes do not respond after the torture. oh you're passing out, satoru gnaws at his lip, watching you look lifeless.

it was expected, you passed out in front of suguru and satoru. and they had a long discussion whether or not it was right or wrong to subject you into something like this. "satoru, punishments are supposed to hurt." suguru reminds, while satoru nods, "not until she passes out, she even threw up…" he sighs, "but she didn't need to run, that's also true." suguru nodded. "I know, I can understand that… hurts me more than it hurts her." suguru chimes, and satoru nods. "I wouldn't be able to do it, I would've stopped when she started crying." he admits, only suguru could get firm enough to carry it throughout.

they are mixed with guilt and promise each other to be kinder, there is no way you would actually love them after this. that fleeting hope that fueled satoru's delusion was now making him restless.

the next day when you wake up, you were a completely different person, screaming from panic the moment the two men entered with breakfast, it was so evident how your fear made you cry out for help. it makes suguru tear up, because you do not look at satoru the way you look at suguru. you look like you want to die, like you would do anything to be granted death.

"angel… it's okay, it's all over. please-" suguru almost begs, and you feel like throwing up again. this time satoru takes the lead, walking towards you and hugging you. he was clearly not welcome. yet… your body couldn't help but relax a little under his warm embrace. it was only until a few hours later, that they found you in the bathroom, head bleeding… passed out. you had just excused yourself to shower. limping all the way… to inflict a pain like that, was terrifying. who said they could only instil pain and fear into you. you couldn't find blades, couldn't find anything… so you banged your head against the fucking wall instead… "is this how much you fucking hate me!" satoru screams out, checking your pulse.

"SUGURU!" he screams, and the latter comes out rushing. watching you life-less in satoru's hold. "is- is she?" suguru blinks, tears brimming in his eyes.

it was clear, satosugu could never hope to win. not when you clearly fear them more than your own death.

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I promise there will be fluff! The build up will be worth it :)

Summary: You're taken by strange men who claim you're their target. Will someone save you or will you save yourself?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Torture, blood, angst, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Fear. You had been through so much yet you were paralyzed with fear. They were all closing in on me, taking their time knowing there was no where for me to run. You glanced around one last time, hoping Azriel was just late and he would show up and save you. You needed him.

He wasn't there and he wasn't going to show up. Your mind was racing, this is it. This would be the end for me-

"Back away from her and I'll let you all live" a voice growled

As you turned your head you saw Cassian in a fighting stance. You couldn't move, couldn't fight, you felt cowardly. The fact that none of them looked worried, scared you further.

"Oh if it isn't the Prince of Bastards himself. You see, Cassian, we expected one of you to be here with her or try to save her. We assumed it would be the shadowsinger but you will have to do."

You felt lightheaded, looking at Cassian you realized he must feel that way as well from the slight swaying he was doing. He fell to his knees and that was when you realized they had released some type of gas to knock you both out. Before you could think more about it, darkness took over.

You woke in a dungeon. Your hands bound in chains above your head, you feet chained to the floor. Your head felt like someone poured cement in it.

"Sunshine..psst....hey wake up" Cassian was whispering at you.

Cassian. He had somehow shown up and tried to save me. Why had he been there? You'd think about that later. For now you needed to figure out where you were and how to get out.

"What's going on?" You asked Cass

"I think we're in the Autumn Court. None of them had any of the court symbols but it looked like their men. Do you have any idea what they want? They said you were their target?" He painfully spoke as if he was fighting to get the words out.

It was only then that you looked at him, truly looked and saw his bruised and bloody face.

He saw the recognition in your eyes and told you, "it's ok, you were still out so they wanted to play with me a little. Show me some hospitality, that's all." the sarcasm rolling off his tongue.

You heard the door creak and you both watched as three men walked in. Two you didn't recognize and the other was the leader.

"Ahhh how exciting! Our guest of honor has woken up" he said and sounded truly happy.

He walked straight over to you and back handed you so hard you saw stars. Cass screamed and tugged at his chains. The man watched Cass with a grin and continued his assault on me. He punched me anywhere he could, using me as if I was a training dummy. Then he nodded at his two cronies and they made their way over to me. They started to...no, please no. They were taking off your clothes.

"Oh calm down, we're not gonna touch you like that. We just need more access to your skin so I can view my handy work." He spoke

Cassian was screaming, "Cowards, hurt me instead. Leave her alone"

Once I was fully bare, they left. Cassian looked ashamed that he couldn't stop it. The blood from my face dripped to my body and the pain was too much, I welcomed the darkness, hoping I would just fade away.

I woke to someone taking my chains off of me and dragging me by my hair out of the room. Cassian was fighting against his chains as much as he could, yelling, growling at them.

"No, you son of a bitch, leave her alone! No!" you heard his continued pleas as you were thrown into another room.

The leader was here.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions. If you answer them, you might get to leave. If not, I'm going to torture you to get the answers and then kill you" He spoke as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Does Nyx have any special abilities?" he asked

You inhaled sharply. Why were the asking about Nyx?

"Hmm, lets try another, where are the keeping Nyx? Do they have any wards protecting him?" the man asked

You wouldn't tell him anything. You loved Nyx, Feyre, and Rhys with all your heart and would die protecting them. You were a coward when they kidnapped you, not even fighting back. But now you would hold you ground for the ones you loved.

"Don't feel like talking to me...? Don't worry, you will." He spoke lowly

He tortured you and beat you until you felt you were near death, then dragged you back to the dungeon and threw you in. His men chained you up again and left me.

"What did they do to you?" Cass spoke softly, not looking for an answer. He just couldn't believe his eyes. You were bruised and bleeding everywhere, wheezing like you had a couple broken ribs, and he could see the silent tears flowing from your eyes.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough, I'm so sorry, so sorry..." Cassian kept repeating as you let your head hang and faded away.

When you woke, you saw your friend had a few more bruises than before. No where near as bad as you but still bad.

"They asked me about Nyx" you squeaked out

"Hey, you keep holding on, we're going to get out of here. Do you hear me? I'm not letting you die here." Cass said as the man appeared again.

"Good Morning! We're going to try something new today. I'm going to hurt you - repeatedly - in front of him and we'll get him to break seeing as you don't like to talk to me. Oh, and I know where to stab to keep you alive so we can do this for a while" He said grabbing a long dagger and walking over to me.

You looked forward and saw the panic in your friend's eyes. No, this would only add more guilt to him.

"Cass look at me. I'm ok, it's gonna be ok. I promise I'm ok," You frantically spoke looking at the man chained in front of you, "Don't worry about me, I can take it, I'm ok-" you started screaming from the pain. He stabbed your back with his dagger.

You don't know how long this went on or how many times you were stabbed, you had blacked out for the fourth? fifth? time. When you woke, someone was taking your chains off again. As you waited to be dragged to the other room for more questioning, you heard Cass speak.

"No, I'm fine. Help her instead."

You felt strong arms wrap around you and lift you up. You slowly opened your eyes to see Lucien carrying you out of the dungeon.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

@darkbloodsly @xtreme-shipper @rcarbo1 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @anna-reader-blog @favsrachz @julesvanslutta @kitsunetori @i-am-infinite

[ameliathornromance]

“What happened to you?!”

Your Orc Boyfriend sat by the tribe healer. Gashes that started at his forehead and go across his face. Blood dripped down and onto his chest, which was bruised and transitioning into a purple hue in certain areas.

You went to rush over, to cup his face, examine him from head to toe, but the healer held a hand out to you. “I know it looks serious,” he said, “but they’re surface level.”

As you opened your mouth to protest, your Orc Boyfriend grunted, “I’ll be fine, love.” He gave you a pained smile. Even as his face oozed with blood, he still tried to reassure you. “I’ll come see you in a minute.”

He loved this about you. Everything was so different now that you were around. Before you and your Orc got together, when Orcs returned injured, they were told to endure it from their others. No sympathy given. Healers would provide Orcs with a pack of ice in a leather sack and send them on their way.

It started when one day, your Orc came back to camp with a bloody nose. You had instantly run over, "Oh my God, are you okay?!" Everyone had stared, startled by your reaction. But when you started tending to your partner's wounds, the camp seemed to follow your lead.

Orcs were now afforded more luxuries than before, being fed soup if they were immobilised temporarily or being washed by someone they were close to when they couldn't reach certain areas.

But your Orc Boyfriend, always did his best to come back intact. Despite the sweetness of your concern, he couldn't bear witnessing your distress over his injuries. 

This time, he was too careless. 

At that sight of your reluctant scowl, your Orc Boyfriend’s heart ached. He wished he had been more careful.

But you turned away and went back to your shared tent. 

He came in later, his face lined with stitches and his chest wrapped up with cloth. Your Orc groaned as he laid in bed beside you, scrunching his face up in pain. 

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked him over. “What happened?” Your voice was muted, small.

“Highway men.” He said.

They had jumped him while he was trying to find his hunting party. Your Orc had got separated when he’d tried to go after a stag. He emerged out onto a popular path taken by humans, looking around for his prey.

But a second was all it took for the humans to attack him.

The men were more vicious that most humans he’d fought, with weapons imbued with some kind of magical properties. One human delivered such a powerful blow to his chest that he thought his ribs had broken.

Your Orc got out by the skin of his tusks, and that was only thanks to another Orc finding him and helping him beat the snot out of the Highwaymen. 

You bit your lip at that and cast a look down at his chest. It had turned black now.

“It’ll heal.” He assured you. “It’ll take more than a few humans to kill me. Don’t worry.” Your Orc shifted and pulled something out from his belt pocket. “Here, for you.”

You gasped. Clutched between your Orc’s meaty green fingers was a small, golden band. A red ruby sat on top of the gold, catching in the dim candlelight. “We took their plunders, this was among it… And I thought of you.”

At your hesitation, your Orc offered it, “I promise I’ll be more careful when I go out in the next few weeks. See this as a pledge of that.” 

Biting your lip, you sighed. Your eyes traced the stitches on his face. You wanted to run your fingers across them, hoping that your touch could heal them. 

Taking the ring, you kissed the ruby. “You promise?” holding the ring to his lips.

Your Orc smiled and kissed it. “I swear on my life.”

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Tim has always been closer to divinity than human in Kon's eyes.

The Clone of Superman, they say Clark Kent is a god a being of so much power.

Maybe he is, after all every myth will tell you the god's are cruel made up of pride and wrath.

Tim is twisted, Kon has seen what the future could hold, a verison that is a dictator dripping in the blood of the innocent, sitting on a throne a verison of Kon helped build.

Blood suites him though.

After the battle was done Rob wanted a promise that none of Young Justice would let him become that. We would help put him down, we wouldn't join his crusade.

Yet, he couldn't he would more than happily trample through bone, to be able to bathe in Tim's light his own personal sun.

He promised instead to always be by his side, for the smartest man in the world he didn't understand. Tim only found relief, his belief in the goodness of Kon almost infaliable.

With his death an even darker side was born.

A room filled with corpses of failed clones. His Sunshine doing everything to bring him back.

Cassie, and Clark so disgusted that Tim would even attempt they thought Kon should feel violated be angry.

But why everything his blood, bone, and breathe belong to his God.

He can do with him whatever he chooses.

The first time they kissed, blood fresh from his split lip Kon's personal ichor.

More than content to imagine bruises decorating his knees proof of worship.

Sometimes he would fantasize picturing Tim draped in jewels, diamonds or rubies. He wasn't picky, but always a choker of glimmering green, connected by silver chain.

Why did Clark allow Bruce to hold onto their one weakness, Batman wasn't worthy.

It had always felt constricting that with one move he could be taken down, a whisper from Clark and he would be no more.

But Tim oh he would welcome it, if he decided that Kon wasn't it, that he was displeased he was more than happy to fall into the green. To meet his end but only at one hand.

When the day finally came that Tim decided it wasn't worth it that heroes were only the stuff of legend.

That he would wear the cowl that it was time for the world to change. He would take his rightful place make it that everyone would finally see.

Kon was more than ready.

He would do anything to ensure his future and if all his God asks is the death of a false one who is he to deny.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Your best friends promised never to tell you about their dangerous job. However, all goes to shit when you find out another way.

Genre: Angsty fluff (happy ending)

Warnings: protective!Tangerine, home invasion, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, sexual innuendo/implying sexual harassment (really not as bad as that sounds lol i would just rather put a warning)? murder, violence

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Tangerine always knew you were too kind for the life he had chosen.

He wonders if he hadn't known you so long or if you weren't as much Lemon's best friend as his, then perhaps it would have been an easy decision to cut you out of their lives.

Only, the decision wasn't easy. It was selfish and it eats him up inside, but both him and Lemon had agreed they couldn't lose you. So, they'd made a deal that they wouldn't tell you the true nature of their job. That way, you would be safe. 

You, on the other hand, aren't as innocent as they think. You've known them long enough to know their expressions and whenever you mention their profession, they become eerily silent and tense. You've seen the blood under Lemon's fingernails and the bruises on Tangerine's knuckles when they visit you after one of their so-called "work trips".

However, after countless evasions on their part, you've stopped asking questions. Now, you stay content without knowing because you don't want to lose them either. 

One evening, you hear a knock on your apartment door and your smile widens. He's early. He's usually never early. You stand up from the couch, pulling up your fuzzy sock as you rush over the wooden floorboards to open the door for him. "Hi," you start but your throat locks when you're met with three burly men in black, threatening, masks. 

You don't have time to scream out as one of them presses his hand against your mouth and forces himself inside. The other two follow quickly and you stumble backwards. The man holding you presses his gun into your side and you whimper, tears falling down your cheeks as your mind races. 

Another man hands you what looks like a burner phone from his pocket and says, "Call him."

Your vision is blurred by your tears and when the man's hand leaves your mouth, you ask. "Who?"

"You know who, girl," the last man laughs and your chest tightens. Your hands are shaky when you type out Tangerine's number. You have an icky in your stomach telling you he hadn't been the one to ask you to hang out this evening.

Hesitantly, you hold the phone to your ear and whimper when the man with the gun pushes you over to your couch. He sits closer than necessary and teasingly moves the barrel against your cheeks and up into your hair.

"Hello?" Tangerine answers, his voice hoarse. Your heart leaps hearing him. It doesn't matter how mad he sounds because it's his voice. He'll make sure no one hurts you.

You turn to the men, as if asking them what you should say. All three of them smirk and the one holding you just shrugs.

"T-tan," you whisper, your hold tightening on the phone. Your voice comes out as shaky as your hands. You want to scream but as the seriousness of the situation sinks in, you can't make your mouth work properly. 

"Y/n? Is that you, love?" Tangerine sounds much more awake now, the annoyance in his tone completely gone. 

You're the only person who calls him Tan. 

"I-I don't know who — and I don't know what they want from me, but t-they have a gun," your word vomit tears a whimper from your throat and you hear curses and movement from the other side of the line. "And I'm so scared. Please, h-help me. I need you."

Suddenly, the phone is ripped from your hands and you let out a shriek of surprise and then another whimper when the gun is pressed to your temple to shut you up. The man chuckles darkly and his arm slides around you so you don't dare make another sound.

"Yes, yeah, we know—mmhmm, yes, we will be waiting with your little friend here," the man holding the phone grins at you, "She's a pretty one, ain't she? Such gorgeous eyes when they're all glossy with tears—" he chuckles, "well shove one up yours too. Don't fucking make us hurt her. You know what we want, bring us the money and she'll survive. Yeah, yeah." 

He grunts and throws the phone across the room, causing you to jump as the other man holding you presses the gun harder into your temple.

The man who was just on the phone pinches his nose and mutters, "Bloody fuck," he turns to you and points his index finger accusingly, "You're a lucky girl, you know. Because, if we didn't really need that money, you would have a bullet stuck in that fucking pretty head of yours for the way your boyfriend speaks to me."

You shiver, wincing. You can tell the man means it. "He's not my boyfriend," you whisper. 

"Whatever, darling," he rolls his eyes and leans forward to take your arm, "Just be a good girl for us and shut up."

* * *

Tangerine feels like he's living his worst nightmare. As soon as he heard your voice on the line, from a masked number, he couldn't think straight anymore. He's currently trying to unlock the drawer where he keeps his gun, fumbling as furious tears prickle in his eyes. 

He can't shake the sound of you crying out his name. He sees you, your skin bruised and bloody as tears stream down your cheeks and he wants to punch his fist through the drawer.

He should have protected you from this. He should have known. 

Lemon walks into his room, frowning when he sees how distressed his brother is. "Woah, mate, what's wrong?"

Tangerine finally thrusts the drawer open and shoves his gun in the back of his pants. He stands and runs a hand through his hair, rushing towards the door. His voice is strained when he says, "Someone has Y/n. They're hurting her." 

Lemon's entire face drops. "W-what? H-how?"

"I don't fuckin' know," Tangerine snaps, "Now, are you fuckin' coming or not?"

* * *

You shift your hand, the ropes burning against your wrists, as you sit on the ground of your bathroom. Blood trickles down your eyebrows from when one of the men hit you and slammed your head into the sink.

The gag they had used cuts painfully into the sides of your mouth. The men had used a pair of your panties they'd found in your dresser and bound the lace around your head, finding it hilarious. You didn't find it funny, the embarrassment still lingering as you sit in the darkness of the bathroom.

Suddenly, the faint laughter from the men in your living room stops and, after a moment, you hear loud crashes. You jump, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen intensely. You hear the slamming of doors until the bathroom door opens and you hear a familiar, "Fuck."

Your eyes snap open and Tangerine kneels in front of you. He quickly unties your panties from around your mouth, his eyes dark with anger and his eyebrows scrunch with worry. You whimper, embarrassed by him seeing you like this. He tosses your panties to the side, not commenting on them but fuming inside as he cups your cheeks gently and inspects your injuries. 

"Shit, does it hurt, love?" he asks, looking at the cut on your forehead and the bruises littered across your skin.

You train your eyes on his appearance. Sweat beads at his hair and splatters of fresh blood adorn his cheeks. It doesn't look like it's his considering he looks unharmed. Tangerine looks you over quickly. "I- did they touch you?" he asks hesitantly, insinuating something from the panties in your mouth and he is clearly a little nervous to know the answer. 

You shake your head and his eyes soften. "Oh, thank fuckin' god. I'm so sorry," he says and unties your hands, wasting no time scooping you up into his arms. You lean your head on his chest, still too shocked to form any words. Tangerine places his hand over your eyes as he walks into the living room and you hear shuffling and curses from what sounds like Lemon.

You turn to look but Tangerine keeps your head still and soothes you, "Shhh, you're okay, c'mon," 

Cold air hits you and you hear Tangerine open the door to his car. He places you inside and kisses your forehead. He kneels next to the car and his thumb touches near your cut, his eyes still dark with anger. "I have to check something with Lemon," he says again and his heart breaks when you grab his arm, 

"Please, don't l-leave me," you manage to ask, your voice hoarse.

Tangerine rests his hand on yours and tries to explain, "I won't be long, darlin'. I can't leave Lemon in there alone but we'll be quick. Trust me."

On any other day you would wait for a better time to bring this up, but your mind is still all fuzzy so you whisper, "Trust you? H-how can I trust you after what happened?" you see the hurt and guilt written on his face as the truth in your words sink in. 

Tangerine has never been good with strong emotions. He doesn't like them. They make him feel weak. You watch as his expression hardens and he looks into your eyes. "I'm sorry, Y/n," he says but mechanically closes the car door on you. You hear a lock and Tangerine disappears into your building again. All you can do is bury your face in your hands and cry.

Later, Tangerine is pacing his room. He hasn't changed out of his bloody clothes and he hasn't calmed down since they'd showed you to the guest room.

You'd asked to be alone and while that was understandable, he's worried sick. Lemon is sitting on his bed, which would usually annoy him because he'd made it that morning, but Tangerine couldn't care less about that right now.

"I basically slammed the door in her face! How could I have done that?" he's obviously panicking. 

"You had to come help me clean the scene. You did the only thing you could think of," Lemon tries to reasons, something he's been doing for the last twenty minutes.

"I- I shut her out. She probably hates me."

"Y/n could never hate you. She loves you."

Tangerine lets out a groan of frustration and turns to look at Lemon, his eyes round. "Don't you understand that's the fuckin' problem? I love her. I fuckin' love her and I've been lying to her all these years and now she's hurt because of it. It's all fucked, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Lemon stares at his brother with a deadpan look on his face. "I cannot believe you just admitted you love her."

"Pardon?"

"You're in love with her. It's been eating at you for years now. It's fucking obvious, I just didn't think you were this self-aware," Lemon rolls his eyes and stands up.

He walks over to Tangerine and crosses his arms. "Shit, mate, what are you even doing in here? Y/n was just attacked in her home and she doesn't understand why. She's probably scared shitless and tending to her wounds all alone —

After you disappeared in here like a baby I asked if she needed help and she said no, but you aren't the only one who is her best friend. I know her. She doesn't want to be alone, you idiot, she just didn't want me. She wants you." 

Tangerine feels like his heart has been beaten up to a pulp and he can barely breathe. He doesn't speak and he leaves his bedroom in a hurry.

As he walks to the guest room, he feels like he's in a daze. He knows he should but he doesn't knock on the door when he rushes in. He finds you sitting on the ground, dressed in one of his shirts he must have left in the guest room by accident, applying some alcohol to the wound on your head.

Your tears have dried but when you look at him, he sees how bloodshot your eyes are and he wants to kill those men all over again.

He doesn't speak as he crouches down and pulls you into a hug. He wraps his arms around your body and holds you tightly. He hears your small sigh as you wrap your arms around his torso. Tangerine doesn't care when you unconsciously climb into his lap and hug him closer. He nuzzles his head in your neck and kisses your exposed shoulder. He's never given you this type of intimacy and while his head is screaming at him to run from you, his heart won't let him. 

"It was so scary," you whimper against him. 

He cups your head with his hand as he soothes you, "I know, darlin', I know it was. I promise you're safe now. I'm here. 'm not leaving you, doll. I'm so sorry this happened," he pulls away and caresses his large hands down your face, brushing some hair from your eyes. 

"Why'd you open the door, darlin'? You'know you can't open the door to strangers, mm?"

He isn't blaming you, he just wants to know. 

You avoid his eyes. "I thought it was you."

Tangerine frowns.

"I think they somehow sent me a text from your phone and it said you wanted to come over and I-I said yes," you feel your cheeks burn and Tangerine anger bubbles. They'd used him to hurt you. He leans his forehead on yours as you continue. "I did think it was a little weird, but I—"

Tangerine wipes at your new tears with his thumb, interrupting you, "It's okay. You couldn't have known. I'm so sorry."

"I should have known," you whisper.

"No," he shakes his head, pressing his lips to your forehead. "I should have prepared you for something like this. Lemon and I should have warned you."

You lean your head on his chest again, your breathing harsh. "I knew your job was dangerous, but I didn't think you were killing people," you whisper and you feel Tangerine tense. He rubs his hand up and down your back. 

"I-" he doesn't know what he can say to you. 

You pull away and look into his eyes, "I don't want to know," you say, "not today. Not now. You can tell me later but now I want you to hold me and tell me it'll be okay." Tangerine nods, you sound a little in shock, but your voice is serious. 

"And I want you to kiss me."

Your words almost knock Tangerine out.

"Fucking pardon?" he says, instantly regretting cursing.

You move to hold his cheeks in your hands, leaning in closer. You wait for him to make the first move, your heart beating as quickly as his is.

You don't care about his job, or that he'd lied to you, and you know he's probably not an honorable man like you'd wished him to be, but none of that matters because you need to feel his lips on yours.

You need to know he's here.

Tangerine closes his eyes and kisses you. His entire body feels like it's on fire and if he thinks too hard, he might combust into ashes. His hands find your waist and his head tilts so he can kiss you better.

Fuck this. He's so in love with you.

You kiss him back with more passion and he almost loses his mind. If he had lost you today he would have burned the entire world to make those men pay. Killing them would have never been enough.

You pull away, tears streaming down your cheeks. You look into Tangerine's blue eyes. You want to tell him you love him. You're in love with him. However, no words can leave your lips.

Tangerine sees your expression and wipes his thumb under your eye. He stands and pulls you up with him as he whispers, "Shh, you don't need to talk. You need sleep."

He looks at your wound again, making sure it's clean and then cups your cheeks and tilts them upwards so he has your attention. "Lemon and I are just around the hall, okay? I- I lo-," his sentence dies and he starts a new one, "I lo-oked over your injury and it shouldn't hurt that much anymore but if it does, you know where my room is."

Tangerine leans down and presses one last kiss to your lips. He pulls away and says, "You're safe now, my darlin'. Okay? Nothing will ever happen to you again. I promise."

He says it with such security, you nod again. Your lips tingle from his and you savor the moment, wrapping your arms around him. Tangerine is surprised but he kisses your head and whispers just quietly enough for you to miss it, 

"I love you," 

And for the first time in his life, those three words don't stay clogged in his throat. Tangerine's shoulders relax and he sighs. One day soon he'll be able to say them loud enough that you hear him. And, hopefully, you'll say them back.

[that-one-p00k1e]

─────〃★ eye candy ೃ⁀➷˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚

You were tending to his injuries, but it seems that his body was tempting to admire... | Muichiro Tokito x gn!reader

c/w: fluff, reader is as young as Muichiro dw

Back home from graduation, tired asf

“How did you get all bruised up like this!?” Muichiro let out a chuckle at the sight of your worried face as you scolded him.

“It was only a spar with the Serpent and Wind Pillar, nothing much.”

“They ganged up on you!!??” Your voice grew louder in disbelief, making the young Pillar wince ever so slightly.

“Come on, it's not like that. That means they didn't underestimate me, no?”

“And look at what that got you into! I know you're strong, but they could've and should've held back a little. If it's a friendly spar, then why aren't the results friendly??”

Your brows tugged in annoyance as you looked down at his body. Here you were, carefully tending to the bruises on his arms and torso. After compressing said bruises with a warm damp cloth, you poured a necessary amount of oil and massaged them gently. Meanwhile the young Pillar could only smile in amusement at your devastation, secretly touched by how concerned you were over a ‘few’ bruises.

“I don't get what's the big deal about it. I've dealt with worse injuries, y'know.”

“That's because you were dealing with a demon, it couldn't be helped. But this was very much likely avoidable had those two reckless bastards put their minds to it.”

“There, there. No need to get so worked up over it.”

You let out a huff at his words, still begrudgingly tending to his purple-tinted spots. Without realizing, your eyes traced along his body. Sometimes you forget he trains, and that he was no ordinary 14 year-old; it was baffling how someone this young could be so well built. Your hands kept their work on autopilot, but your gaze was observing; taking in the contours of his muscles, the curves of his biceps, and the well-highlighted abs. Noticing your stare, Muichiro smirked.

“Liking the view?” he questioned teasingly as his voice lowered.

“W-What!?” you blinked yourself conscious as you felt your heart taking a leap and blood rushing to your face.

“Wanna touch them?” he pushed further as a smug grin tugged at his lips.

“S-Shut up!!” In reflex, you smacked him by the arm with your face all red.

“Ow!”

“That's what you get for sputtering nonsense.”

“You do like it though, don't you?” The smirk remained on his face.

You abruptly got up to your feet, turning on your heel and walking away wordlessly.

“Huh? Where are you going? Wait for me! Didn't you promise to play paper planes with me?” With that, Muichiro quickly got up and began following you.

[polarisjisung]

SILENT TREATMENT

synopsis: your boyfriend broke some guy's nose for you, but what he doesn't realise is he also broke his promise to you

wc: 0.9k

pairings: bf!jeno x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mention of blood like once (feel the need to mention I don't want to romanticise violence 💀)

notes: jeno lee is driving me insane.

Jeno doesn't like it, the silence. He liked to hear you ramble about nonsensical things, the sound of your awkward chatter filling the room, not the incessant pattering of rain against the roof above.

That's the first sign, he figures

On most days, you'd warn him before pressing an alcohol soaked cotton swab against his wounds, delicately pressing down on his jaw with a worried stare. Today you grip his chin firmly, tilting his head upwards and swiping over the cut less gently than before.

That's the second.

The air is cold coming in through the open bathroom window, the dim lighting not sufficient for him to make out your features, when you step a little further away, but still just enough for him to notice the way your nostrils flare and you bite at your lip when reaching for the antiseptic gel kept in the cupboard to your right.

Three of three, he thinks, and jeno comes to the only valid conclusion there is.

Your usually talkative, enthusiastic, and bubbly self now so cold and stand offish, it only meant one thing, something you could argue the lee found entertaining judging by the innocent smile on his lips.

"Are you angry at me?"

A glare is the only response jeno gets.

Not angry enough to leave him to tend to his own wounds, he figures, so really just how angry could you be?

"ow, it hurts" he whines cautiously, taking ahold of your hand as it passes over the deep red, bloody incision in his bicep— which by the way, was doing nothing to help you maintain your rage.

your eyes, however, don't widen, and your lips don't move forward into a pout, you don't react.

nothing except pulling your hand back.

maybe you were a little angrier than he thought.

"silent treatment huh?" he seems amused, a short chuckles escaping his busted lip as you  disinfect the wound, the laugh echoing through the room.

You couldn't stay mad at him, not for long at least, jeno knew that much, so despite watching you walk away to replace the first aid kit just where you found it, ready to use the next time jeno got himself like this, he knows he hasn't got a thing to worry about

Equally, you know jeno just as well, and you know that walking anywhere in his reach would end in you wrapped up in his arms, being showered with soft sweet apologetic kisses like always

Only you both realise your phone is left forgotten on the counter beside him, and if bothering your boyfriend after a long day wasnt on your list of things to do, scrolling for unnecessarily long hours through twitter certianly was.

In hopes to outsmart him you try and lunge to grab the device, only to find yourself in the very position you imagined, lee jeno's strong arms wrapped around your waist, sweet brown eyes staring back.

"can't run now can you baby?"

You scoff, only managing to turn your face away from his— getting uncaged from his arms was far beyond you.

Jeno let's his head fall into the crook of your neck, your floral perfume overtaking the medicinal smell in the air as he pecks the corner of your lips, slowly tracing your jawline with soft kisses until you finally turn to face him again.

"I'm sorry" he whispers, calloused, bruised hands holding your chin with utmost tenderness. The rough skin of his thumb traces over your lower lip, a soft kiss placed there once again.

"you said you wouldn't"

jeno pauses, confused.

"you promised you would stop"

the desperate tone in your voice is clear as day, and it doesn't take jeno much longer to realise, this wasn't about what he'd done, it was about what he'd said he wouldn't do

the cracks in your shaky voice are enough for the bitter taste of guilt to bubble in his stomach and rise to the tip of his tongue, your glossy eyes staring back, disappointed

"I'm sorry" he sighs, eyebrows furrowing as he stares down at you, "I'm so so sorry my sweet girl."

The hair messily sprawled across your forehead is pushed to the side by his index finger, an apologetic kiss pressed to your temple. Jeno's hand is placed at the crown of your head, soothingly passing his fingers through your hair when you're pulled forwards into his chest, resting your arms at his side as you let your weight fall onto him.

"Please, don't get hurt because of me" your hands reach for his, and jeno realises you're asking him once again, to promise he wouldn't do it—this time he doesn't know if he can.

"I can't stand it." his tone differs from the sweet one he uses with you, or the mocking one he'd taken on earlier, now he spits harsh words at the floor, eyes rolling instinctively. "those scumbags talking about my pretty girl like that."

you notice the way his fist tightens, the plasters you'd just placed over his knuckles slipping off his skin in seconds.

"if you can fight them for me" with a cold hand against his cheek, you reach up to guide his eyes back to meet yours, "can't you, not, fight them for me too?"

he smiles— you giggle, the very man who'd just taken on another 2 guys almost twice his size just a few minutes ago now looked at you with a wide grin and two crescent moons in place of his eyes.

"I'll try" and suddenly you wear a smile just as wide as his "I'd do anything for you"

You don't doubt it.

[redravened]

thinking about mary hatford.

wide-eyed young british girl coming from old mafia money meeting this suave polish man with flaming hair and stunning blue eyes. Too charming to be true but to alluring to leave - he promises her freedom from her family, from this life she didn't choose. He's a millionaire, he's handsome, and she's young and beautiful and she'll be safe. His smile doesn't reach his eyes - she ignores it.

She meets his parents - odd crooked smiles and thick polish accents, welcoming nevertheless. They die soon after. She finds bloods on his suits and cuffs, his house smells like metal and the air near his basement's thick with something nasty. She ignores it.

They get married, a gorgeous ceremony which her family begrudgingly attends - and then he turns on her. He's a demon - he locks her up in their bedroom, bruises on her skin and blood in her teeth. His money is of blood and his tales of inheritance were lies. She cries and cries and cries, wishing she hadn't ignored it all. But Mary's not stupid. She knows how to run.

One bag to her name, for he'd confiscated her money, and a loaded gun in her waistcoat. The day of her almost departure she feels nauseous - she blames it on stress before she upends her guts into the toilet.

Baby Nathaniel - named after the bastard, of course. But she got his middle name - Abram, always her Abram. He looked just like his father, but walked the same height as his mother. Inherited his horrible temper, but she had tried her best to beat it out of him.

They were going to take him away - they couldn't, not her Abram. If he failed, failed their damned test of their stupid little sport, he could die. Running with him was dangerous, but Mary knew how to run properly. One bag for both of them and a loaded gun, just like all those years ago, though her beauty was aged by postpartum and her soul-sucking husband.

Him and his lackies catch up to them after twenty identities - Chris McCann and his aunt Sheila. Mary is cornered, and she knows she won't make it. She throws herself into a car and tells Abram to drive for his life - one of them had to make it. It was never going to be her.

She tries to hold on, she really does. Abram drives fast and well, she's ever so proud of him. But her vision is spotting black and her blood is running out, out, out, out. Mary Hatford is out. She's gone. She dies with hopes that Abram could make it, make himself happy, make his own life.

One of them had to.

(thesis moodboard)

[gaea-a]

RAGE ;;

[🍃] oh, someone give me the idea :) There will probably be a part two if you guys love this work, hehe

warnings:

pure angst ; fem!reader ; jason todd & mom!reader ; deaths ; Possible spelling mistakes, thanks

...

..

.

You couldn't feel your arms. Your whole body felt numb.

Unlike what many said, killing someone wasn't easy; you wanted to throw up the little you had in your stomach. Your body was shaking.

Your eyes filled with tears; your head was spinning. Your hands were warm from the blood on them.

Your scrambled mind just replayed every single memory you had with Jason. Oh, your little boy. You had promised to protect him the first time Bruce brought him. He was so small, so smart, so beautiful, and so precious.

You remember his first smile. You remember his innocent yet mocking jokes. His witty responses when he responded to your grumpy husband. You remember his little hands 'fixing' your hair, but he had actually put a rose in from the vase—much to Alfred's chagrin, but he still didn't say anything and smiled amusedly.

You remember his beautiful blue eyes shining with excitement when you told him you were going to make his favorite cookies and how he would excitedly exclaim that he was going to help you.

You remember the first time he called you “Mommy” with a loving little smile, showing how he was missing one of his canines due to his baby tooth falling out.

You remember how his cheeks had started to get chubby from all the snacks you gave him and his skin had started to get less pale. He had started to look healthier.

You remember his giggles as he got ready to go out on patrol and Bruce gently scolding him not to run and to be careful.

Your little Jason…

How were you supposed to go on without him by your side? Without your little boy… How is a mother supposed to go on knowing that her son’s killer was on the loose? And her husband, the one who was supposed to have killed the madman, let him go… free.

He was free. That clown, the murderer of your little boy, was free… He escaped from where they had locked him up even though Bruce promised you that that man would never come out again.

‘Liar…’ you thought at that moment.

How was a mother supposed to go on…?

Your pain turned to rage within days. It was a rage that burned you to the bone and made your chest ache from the pressure of heavy emotions laden with deep hatred.

You remember when Bruce brought his small body, oh so small, bruised and lifeless. The heartbreaking scream that left your throat was heard and echoed throughout the cave. Heavy tears fell from your eyes as you clung to his little body and cried inconsolably.

You didn't even realize that your steps took you outside the mansion, taking advantage of your husband and Alfred taking their eyes off you. Your head covered by a heavy, long hood that made you look small. Your red, swollen eyes with dark circles were hidden under the fabric of the hood.

You didn't notice the vibration of your phone; surely they were calling you… but your mind was somewhere else, and your body was moving on its own. It was no longer you.

You didn't notice when you entered the abandoned warehouse where you saw the Joker's henchmen enter. You found it, and yet your unbalanced mind didn't notice any of that. You were just a robot that was looking to find the culprit and make him pay.

You also didn't realize what you were doing when you sneaked out and ambushed the clown from behind with your small knife.

Your pain, your fury, the injustice you felt made you commit a crime.

You killed him.

Your broken, red eyes looked at the body of the clown-dressed man lying there; your hand, still holding the small knife, began to shake. You really did it.

You killed your son's killer.

You didn't know what to do. The fear of seeing Richard's, Barbara's, Alfred's, or Bruce's face when they saw what you did, what your pain made you do. Your breathing became labored; your throat tightened painfully.

Jason… Oh, your little Jason, what would he think of you right now… Would he be scared to see what you became?

You fell to your knees as a broken sob left your broken lips. The knife was still in your shaking, bloodstained hand.

You had nothing left to live for… Your life was destroyed, in rubble. One way or another, nothing would be the same; you consoled yourself, but it was only a pathetic attempt to calm yourself down.

Silently you raised your hand to your throat, closing your eyes, remembering your little Jason. The memory of his smile made your pain lighter. At least you did justice… at least it was all over. You asked everyone for forgiveness for abandoning them too… just like Jason abandoned you.

You took a breath before bringing the small knife to your throat.

But before the knife managed to make contact with your skin and you managed to take your life, someone's body crashing into you stopped you, causing the small knife to fall from your grasp…

[whitemancumslut]

Look What You Made Me Do (H.S) Pt.1

SUMMARY: A guy flirts with you, and as a result, Harry kills him.

CONTENT WARNING: dark!harry, manipulation, sex, manhandling, sub/dom dynamic, hints of m*rder, mentions of wounds/blood, daddy kink

AUTHORS NOTE: Someone requested a dark!harry who gaslights, kills, and manipulates so i scrambled this up. I will def be writing him more seriously after this one 😂

WORD COUNT: 1-2k

It all started when she pleaded with her big doe eyes pearling up at him, her small voice filled with desperation and smallness. The vastness of the huge empty house seemed to swallow her up in his absence, leaving her feeling like a tiny speck in a sea of silence.

"Daddy, can I go with you? Please," she implored, her eyes wide with hope. She craved to be in his presence, for the reassurance of his company in the cold, echoing rooms of their home.

But his response was harsh and dismissive, his words cutting through her like a knife. "No," he said brusquely, his tone leaving no room for argument. The frown that creased her brow deepened.

She continued. “Please, I'll be good. I promise," she pleaded, watching him pack the duffel bags, not worrying about all the things he’s shoving inside as she was once told that it was none of her business.

His job was a mystery to her, shrouded in secrecy and danger. Every night, Harry would return home with evidence of a violent encounter - bruises on his knuckles, blood splattered on his clothes, and his hair in disarray.

Despite her growing fear and concern, she was forbidden from asking questions. Harry insisted that his actions were for her protection, and that she was not meant to witness the darker side of his work. The unspoken understanding between them only added to the air of mystery and tension that surrounded Harry's enigmatic profession.

Harry sighed, dropping what was in his hands to turn to his girl. "Baby," He said softly, grabbing her face in his hands, his eyes filled with concern. "Is there a reason you don't want to stay here? You're always happy to wait for me when I get back." His words were laced with genuine curiosity as he searched her eyes for any hint of what might be bothering her. Harry couldn't bear to see her unhappy and he would go to hell and back to put that smile on her face.

Her eyes began to get glossy as she looked up at him, her bottom lip quivering. "I-I just want to be with you. It's so boring here. Please daddy. Just once, can I go?," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be good.”

Harry looks down at her as he towered over her in their height difference. “Daddy has very important business, you know that.” He said. “Don’t you, princess?” His hand coming in contact with her head. Rubbing over her hair and then rubbing over her cheek.

She nodded, “Yes, sir.” Her voice sounded smaller than before and very much defeated as she looked down at her freshly done nails Harry paid for.

Harry sighed, knowing he couldn't resist her sad, pleading eyes. Placing a small kiss to her upper lip. "Get dressed," he finally relented, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Her face lit up with joy as she jumped up from her seat, a sense of excitement coursing through her veins. "Yes!" she wrapped her arms around his neck, placing a wet glossy kiss on his cheek.

His hands moved stealthily down to her backside, fingers gripping her butt with a firm squeeze. His voice remained stern as he instructed her to get dressed quickly. "I'm leaving in ten minutes," he stated firmly. Despite his serious tone, she couldn't help but smile at him.

"Okay Daddy," she giggled.

She started to make her way towards their bedroom upstairs, but before she could take another step, Harry grabbed her by the forearm, pulling her back with a roughness that sent a shiver down her spine.

"But you listen to me," he said sternly, his grip tightening on her arm. She looked up at him, the smile is no longer on her face as she locks intimidating eye contact with him. "I want you on your best behavior tonight. I need you to stay by my side at all times. Do you understand?" He searches for some sort of understanding and submissive in her eyes and as always, he does.

She nodded, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. But Harry wasn't satisfied with just a nod. He cupped her jaw in his hand, his fingers pressing against her skin with a force that made her gasp.

"Words," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Use them."

"Y-yes, daddy," she stammered, her words barely audible as she struggled to meet his intense gaze. The power he held over her was intoxicating, and she knew that tonight would be a night she would never forget.

He let go of her face and she made her way up to the bedroom they shared. Harry shook his head as he finished closing his duffel bag and swinging it over his torso.

The only thing she knew about Harry's job was that it always led them to a club. As soon as she walked in she was met with loud music and people grinding against one another. As they walked through the entrance, she could feel his grip on her hand tighten, causing a slight discomfort that only grew as they made their way through the crowded dance floor.

As she walked, she just remembered the two rules Harry gave her:

1. Stay by Harry’s side.

2. Don’t speak to anybody.

But Harry didn’t stay by her side. He was pulled away from her when one of his men came and pulled him for a conversation. The area was so congested, he lost track of her.

As his men spoke to him, a man approached his girl. It was another man who worked for him, she recognized him but couldn’t put a name to his face. Harry tended to tell this man off a lot. He would always cut him off and treat him as if his words and suggestions to their work didn’t matter.

“Hello, sweetheart.” The two words caused her to spin and see a man who’s awfully taller than her. “I’m Jared. I work for Styles. I believe we’ve met before,” He held out his hand, awaiting hers.

Afraid to be rude, she took his hand and shook it, praying it’ll be over soon. "Hi," she said softly, voice sweet as honey. The instructions in the car were clear - she wasn't supposed to speak to anyone and was supposed to stick to Harry’s side. However, the absence of Harry, who was meant to be by her side at all times, made her question the rules she was meant to follow.

She removed his hand from his grip and smiled kindly. He assumed that her being alone was a perfect opportunity to get her away from him. “Where’s Styles? Rarely get you alone…” His lips curled up as his eyes scanned her skin that was out leaving little to the imagination. Before she could answer—

“This is very pretty,” He said, his voice is as if he’s trying to lure her. His rough calloused hands came up and touched the strap of her dress.

“Thank you!” She said smiling. In a way, Harry always made it seem as if the men who worked for him were evil and cruel and not at all kind. But a compliment like this made her feel the opposite. “I just got it this weekend!”

And that’s when Harry flicked his head in her direction to see the interaction. It was like a light switch in his head. Eyes squinting to make sure he saw what he saw correctly.

“How did Styles’ get so lucky?” his hand came to her bare shoulder and before he could move closer—

"Hey, what's going on?" Harry interrupted before she could even begin to explain the situation. His tone was sharp, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is there a reason you're here and not over there?" With a sudden burst of aggression, Harry shoved him forcefully, causing him to stumble and collide with the barstools lined up behind him.

The sound of the impact caused a loud screeching sound, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. It was clear that Harry's actions were motivated by more than just curiosity - there was a sense of menace in his demeanor that sent a chill down everyone's spine.

Jared’s tough guy act tried to go strong but anyone could understand looking at the glint in Harry’s eyes it was no use.

Harry grabbed him by the collar as she tried to get his attention. “We were just talking—“

“You fucking touch her? Hmm?” Harry’s fist came in contact with the guys face once again causing the girl behind him to drop the grip on his arm. Harry stood over the man that worked for him and kicked him as he grew satisfied with the blood pouring from his face. “He’s going to den.” He ordered the two men who he was previously speaking to.

He doesn’t look at the men, instead he grabs his girls hand with the opposite hand that wasn’t bruised. He pulled her along with him, ignoring anything she was saying.

The girl behind him shook her head as her hands shook. “Daddy—.” She continued to look back at the man being taken away. “No. Why’d you do that?”

Her voice was like a cry and he ignored every word until they got into the car. The car ride was silent as all she can think about was what Harry did.

When they arrived to the house, Harry walked to the front door and let her walk in. He didn’t even step foot in the door.

“You stay here,” He said. Before she could argue— he was out the door with a slam.

But nothing could have prepared her for when he got back.

When he returned, he called out her name. “Baby?” Harry called out. She sat on the edge of the bed, and her feet dangled as she’s been home alone for a hour. When she heard his footsteps come closer and closer, she lifted her head up awaiting his enterance.

“Hey, baby.” He greeted her softly and came into the room and the first thing she realized was his shirt.

The silence was loud and the stains on his shirt were screaming at her. He comes closer and places a kiss on her forehead as if she’s a clueless dog.

She watched as he walked across their bedroom and through his coat to the floor, sighing heavily.

The silence killed her.

“Daddy?”

He hummed, “Hmm?”

“What did you do to Jared?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where did you have the guys take him?”

“Somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” She questioned, standing up. “Just somewhere? Did you hurt him? He was just being nice—!”

“No!” Harry's voice boomed with anger, his eyes flashing with intensity, causing her to jump. The way his head flicked towards her startled her more. "Jared was a bad guy, baby. Far from nice. And if you couldn't see it from talking to him face to face, then that's a problem.” He scolded walking towards her with each step causing her to back up one, “I could tell from across the room that he was trying to get you. So, I had to take care of him. Look at this," he gestured to the bloodstains on his shirt, "that's Jared's blood. He wanted to get you all to himself." She flinched as he barked his words out at her. Harry's words were harsh and filled with a protective rage as he explained the violent altercation that had just taken place.

“So you know what I did?” He said, voice deep and cruel. Eyes peering deep into hers. His tone was chilling, a coldness that sent shivers down her spine as he spoke. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to bore into her soul as he revealed his dark secret.

Tears welled up in her eyes, a mix of fear and sorrow clouding her vision. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, couldn't fathom the depths of his cruelty.

And then he said it, those three words that echoed in the silence of the room. "I killed him." The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as the weight of his confession settled between them. Harry's nonchalant demeanor only added to the horror of his admission, as if taking a life was nothing more than a casual event in his twisted world.

The truth of his actions hit her like a freight train, a realization that shook her to the core. Harry killed a man for flirting with her. She had known there was darkness within him, but this revelation was beyond anything she could have imagined. Her mind raced with questions, with the need to understand how he could have done such a thing.

As she looked into his eyes, she saw no remorse, no guilt. Only a cold emptiness that chilled her to the bone. And in that moment, she knew that she was in the presence of a monster.

“I know the man Jared is,” He said. “He preys on younger drunk girls and shoves them in his car and takes them to his place. You know how many times we’ve caught him for that? Going after you was him trying to get back at me for lashing at him in the poker room.”

As she slowly backed away from him, her heart pounding in her chest, she couldn't find the words to express the shock and disbelief that filled her. "Why—Why would—Why would you kill him?" she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely above a breath. The room felt heavy with the weight of his confession, as if there were another presence in the house, one that she couldn't see but could feel with every fiber of her being.

His eyes bore into hers, filled with a mix of determination and desperation. "I did it for you. I did it because of you," he explained, his voice low and raw with emotion. He took a step closer, his breath warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "I couldn't stand to see him lay a finger on you. It drove me crazy. The mere thought of another man touching you, it makes me fucking sick. Do you understand that?," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his love and possessiveness.

With those words, a sense of understanding came over her but it still flooded her brain of the thought of Harry killing a man. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone else, couldn't fathom another man treating her the way Harry did. Touching her the way Harry did. No one else could make her feel the way he did, with his fierce protectiveness and unwavering devotion.

In her eyes, she saw a love so deep and consuming that it both terrified and exhilarated her. Everything he did excited her but he was always such a mysterious man with a mysterious life behind the big doors of their home.

His thumb brushed the falling tear off her cheek. “The lengths I would go to protect you know no bounds, baby. Don't mistake my actions for those of a dangerous man; I am just protecting you. You have to understand, I am not the villain. Jared is, not me." With a sense of urgency and desperation, he gently shook her cheeks as he spoke, trying to make her see the truth in his words.

He let go of her head, and his hands fell to his sides. Her eyes following his—still trying to find exactly what emotions are filled in his.

“I did it for you. I killed a man that worked for me because he fucking laid a finger on you. Do you know how crazy you make me, darling? The things I’d do for you? Oh, baby I’d stop the Earth from spinning.” He grabbed her face again, but this time she didn’t back away— she melted into his touch. Looking into his eyes she saw something. It was a look of reassurance and once again she saw the man she loved. “I did it because I love you, baby, okay?”

Tears continued to fall down her face but she nodded as he spoke. “Do you understand that?” He shakes her head in his hands, wiping the tears as they fell.

She nods again, “I— I understand sir.”

“I will always protect to you. You understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Harry’s lips pressed to her as he wrapped his arms around her body.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I should have never lashed out on you like that and I should have never left you alone. I just really hate when any other guys staring at what’s mine.” He spoke to her softly as she shakes her head. “I promise I will never let another man get that close to you again.”

“Any man who lays a finger on you will be damned when I get my hands on them”

a/n i wrote this on the train because when i saw the request i ran to it😀 here’s a quick run thru of what i want this series to be. this is so fucking insane oh my gosh and unserious. i want more of dark!possessive harry who can’t take a man saying a word to you.

[mcflymemes]

DRAMATIC & PROTECTIVE RELATIONSHIP PROMPTS *  for the ones who want to keep you safe from harm

get behind me.

go inside and lock the door and don't come out until i say so.

are you all right? where are you hurt?

over my dead body.

i promised them i'd keep you safe.

i sleep better when you're next to me.

are you serious? i'm not letting you risk your life.

don't go. it's safer here.

i should have been here. this is my fault.

here. take this gun. don't pull the trigger unless it's absolutely necessary.

they told me to watch you.

i won't let anyone lay a hand on you.

stay close to me.

i'm not worth saving. please.

can you stay? just for a little while? it would help.

it's too dangerous out there.

i thought i'd lost you.

can you hear me? hello? where are you?

they're all afraid of me.

they told me you'd be trouble. clearly that was an understatement.

one of us has to make it out of here.

is that a bruise?

get back. get back right now.

did they touch you?

i already lost you once. i'm not going to lose you again.

a few more steps. we're nearly there. i've got you.

where does it hurt? let me see.

oh my god, you're covered in blood.

i love you, but you have to go.

climb on my back. i'll carry you.

i wish you'd stay.

i slept here all night. i couldn't leave you.

stay with me. i can keep you safe.

no. i've made my decision. you're staying here.

holy shit. are you okay? what the hell happened?

we have to get inside right now.

quick! hide! in here!

if they know you're with me, they'll leave you alone.

if they attack again, we'll be ready.

this never should have happened.

i want you to run, okay? run and don't look back.

you're all right. you're safe. it's over.

i'll feel better once you're out of this.

i don't have nightmares when you're here.

where have you been? i've been calling you all night.

your phone went straight to voicemail. what's going on?

i don't want anything to happen to you.

i can't stand the thought of losing you.

i won't let them touch you.

when we met, i promised myself i'd keep you safe.

where'd they go? i'll give them a piece of my mind.

here. squeeze my hand if it hurts.

i'll lay beside you.

no. it's non-negotiable. you're staying here.

i don't want you to die, okay?

listen to me! i know what i'm doing!

i can't lose you again!

do you hear me? i love you! i've always loved you.

i've got you. i'm right here.

can i stay? i'll take the couch.

tell them you're with me.

you can make it. i believe in you.

are you kidding me? who decided this?

here, i'll pick you up.

get back in the car. i'll handle this.

if anyone can do it, it's you.

let me carry you to safety.

i don't do well when you're away.