#i know what the fuck i'm about and i'm sick of holding back

[jimmy-buffet-babe]

{....well not to sound like a bitch, but i /did/ die. I've died a few times actually. Ten...oh this one would be....twenty...yeah! Twenty. Times. And this is the first time that anyone besides death is here to bring me back, and they're just here because technically they're the only one who CAN retrieve me due to legal reasons! So sorry if I'm a little shocked to see people actually show up for me instead of the other way around, Sorry if I'm concerned when I see one of my best friends upset who usually stands as far from me as possible and just gave me a big hug, sorry if i want you to be honest with your feelings instead of holding them all in and killing you faster!

And you know something? LUNA? there is a difference between being emotionless and being an asshole. You tread that line very thinly, my love. And yet, I forgive you still. But if you're gonna chew me out and you're gonna ride my ass every. Single. God. Damn. Time. That you have an emotional breakthrough. Well first off, I'm happy for you, glad to see you grow emotionally. Second off, atleast buy me a fucking dinner afterwards- I've done jackasses that do more for me for less!

And I'll tell you something else! You and your brother need to sit down, preferably with someone with therapy experience, and talk about this shit. Damn the fucking cosmic dickwads that make the stupid rules for everything and say you can't, they won't be able to shit if the FUCKING SUN AND MOON EXPLODE! Hell! I'll stop regenerating all together and turn to space dust! Last of my kind and nobody gives a fuck! Why should they?

I keep it a secret from everyone because I'm so fucking scared they'll take advantage of it and kill me just like they did with my family, and my baby! And yet! And yet here I am killing myself trying to make other people happy! To keep them safe! Because all I want is to have someone to be close to and to care for even if they don't give a shit about me. Even if they'd be better off draining the blood from my body and mounting my head on a wall. FUCK! I'm dating a contractor and so far he's the nicest guy I've been with in ages! And i don't care what every body else thinks of him because /i/ love him.......and i love you too. More than you know}

☆they look around at everyone, shaking now☆

" .....Sublime, I think that's enough- "

{Oh is it? Is it Elliot? Mr i don't give a fuck about what others have to say? Anyone ever wonder why you always work so closely with Lucifer???}

" sublime, i don't think- "

{ Think what, feldroy?? I didn't think you still /could/ think since you shipped yourself off to heaven}

" sublime- "

{ You're. Not. An. Angel. You are a beautiful, wonderful, eldritch being that happened to be born into one of the oldest and shittiest families among the olds ones-}

" Sublime that's enough, Feldroy /is/ an angel- "

{ But he's not! You are! You were! Only difference is you tried to make an honest suggestion to the big guy upstairs and got your ass kicked all the way down to Dantes curb!

I'm sick and tired of lying, and everyone else lying, and having to lie for everyone else. You want to be around me? You want to be a part of my life? Quit the fucking lying, be honest about your damn feels, and if you care about me FOR FUCK SAKE! JUST TELL ME!!! IM GOOD AT GIVING HUGS AND ADVICE, IM NOT A GOD DAMN MIND-READER PEOPLE!!!}

☆they broke off into sobs, shaking like a leaf as they fell to their knees, their scars glowing a sickly green.☆

The sound of an approaching train can be heard. Grab your tickets, hold em tight. It's gonna be one hell of a ride!~

Mr time

Mrs Earth

Ms judgement

Mr Hyde

Ms Octayve

Hm....guess they lost theirs

Ah!

And Mr Gecko.

ALL ABOARD!

[jazzy96scorpio]

A Spark in the Darkness

Chapter 2 Attitude

Description: You continued your trip with Joel and Ellie. You came to Bill and Frank's house. Joel hates your attitude, but he loves how you handle things 😉 Little smut at the end.

Pairing: You / Joel Miller

Warnings ⚠️: mention of death, angst, dirty and bad words, jerking off.

Word Count: 2386

🖤

After a long day of walking, Joel suggested you stop at his old stash spot. "Need to check on things and leave a somethin' " he said, his voice gruff.

Ellie, eager to explore, announced, "I'm gonna see if there's anything left."

"Everything's already picked over," Joel grumbled, but Ellie was already slipping inside room.

You sat there, watching Joel, a curious glint in your eye. While he was checking his stash, you rummaged around and stumbled upon an old box of condoms. You couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you always need these," you teased.

Joel looked at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance. He called for Ellie.

Ellie emerged from the small room, looking disgruntled. "Picked over my ass," she muttered, holding up a box of tampons. You laughed.

After that you continued your journey, heading towards Bill and Frank's house. Joel assured you that these two men would be able to help you.

While you were walking through the fields, Ellie, ever curious, turned to Joel. "How did this all even start?" she asked.

Joel sighed, a grim expression on his face. He explained everything her.

Then he stops her saying "We are crossing our path through the wood."

Ellie asks "Why are we going through the woods?"

"There are some things you shouldn't see," Joel said gruffly.

"Well, now I need to see," Ellie declared, and before anyone could stop her, she took off running.

You looked at Joel, a flicker of concern in your eyes. He watched her go, a grim look on his face.

Ellie soon reappeared, her face pale. She had stumbled upon a ditch filled with the skeletons of people. "What… what happened to them?" she stammered. Joel explained. "The army…they killed them."

Ellie looked at you, her eyes searching for answers. "Those people weren't sick?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"No, probably not" you confirmed, the memory of those dark days flooding back. "Our government…they were fucked up. I've seen worse things than this."

You pulled Ellie close, hugging her tightly. "Let's go," you said softly.

Joel watched you both, a sadness etched on his face. He wondered about the things you had seen, the horrors you had endured. You were a survivor, tougher than you looked, but the weight of the past was clearly evident in your eyes.

🩶

The house was eerily silent. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light that pierced through the boarded-up windows. "I'm gonna check the other rooms," Joel said.

You nodded, watching him disappear down the hallway. Ellie, sitting at the worn wooden table, picked up a folded piece of paper. She read it slowly, her brow furrowed. Then, she handed it to you. Bill and Frank were gone.

Joel returned, his face grim as he saw letter. "They're dead, isn't? he said, his voice barely a whisper. Ellie showed him the letter. "You read it," he said.

As she read, Joel watched you, his eyes searching your face. You felt sad.

He went outside, checking the garage and a truck. He returned a short while later.

"I found a car battery," he said, "Should be charged up soon."

He looked at you. "I have a brother, I need to find him" he said, his voice rough. "He is in Wyoming. He was with the Fireflies… maybe he knows something, maybe he knows where that lab is."

You nodded, understanding.

"If we're going together," he said, his voice firm, "there will be rules."

"Number one: Don't mention Tess. Ever. We keep our history to ourselves."

You agreed, though the words felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

"Number two," he continued, "You don't talk about your condition to nobody. Understand?"

Ellie nodded solemnly.

"And third," he said, his eyes fixed on you, "You are gonna do what I say, when I say it. Are we clear?"

Ellie said, "What you say it goes."

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, "I fuckin' hate that rule." Joel shook his head.

"You'll get used to it," he said.

"Hell I won't." you say it with harsh voice.

"What are we going to do now?" Ellie asked, her voice small.

"Let's grab what we can," Joel said, already heading towards the basement.

The basement was a treasure trove of supplies. "Shit, this guy was a genius," Ellie muttered, her eyes wide with amazement.

Joel was at the computer, methodically turning off the radio signal and silencing the music player. "Grab some canned food," he instructed.

Ellie, however, was drawn to the wall, a veritable arsenal of firearms. "Dude," she exclaimed.

Joel looked at her, his expression hardening. "No."

"But there's a whole wall of them!" Ellie protested. Joel continued to stare at her, his jaw clenched.

You, ever the opportunist, stepped forward and grabbed the largest gun you could find. "What?" you said, grinning. "I like them BIG! Look how it fits perfectly in my hand." You raised the gun, inspecting it with a predatory glint in your eye.

Joel was taken aback. He was both angry and surprised by your audacity. Ellie burst out laughing.

Joel, after a moment of stunned silence, simply shook his head. "Alright, alright," he conceded, a grudging smile playing on his lips. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop you anyway.

You spent the next hour collecting supplies.

Joel was at the garage, tinkering with the truck. Ellie was in the shower. You returned to check on him.

He was at the work table, fixing the car battery. "Ellie's in the shower," you announced, "and I'm next."

You paused, a mischievous glint in your eye. "And I think you really need one."

"Cuz really, pfff. You smell bad."

He looked at you with that mad face.

"What? You don't like jokes?" you asked.

"No, I don't," he growled, "And I don't like your attitude."

"Oh really?" you retorted, "Well, I really don't like yours either, grumpy asshole."

He got more mad, coming closer to you. "What did I tell you about talking to me like that, darlin'?" He grabbed your wrists, pinning you against the wall.

His touch sent a jolt through you. You were close, dangerously close, and for the first time, you felt a raw passion emanating from him. He was angry, yes, but there was something else there – a simmering intensity, a desire that surprised you both.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Miller," you teased, a playful glint in your eye, "will you teach me a lesson?"

He leaned closer, his breath hot on your face. He growled, his body burning with a lust. He still held your wrists firmly against the wall, his grip tightening. You liked his attitude.

He looked at your face, then lower, his gaze lingering on your breasts. "You… you wanna see them again, don't you?" you continued to tease him.

"Shut up," he muttered, his eyes darkening.

"Come on, Mr. Miller," you purred, "I bet you've dreamed about this, don't you?"

You managed to free your hand from his grip. Then, with a mischievous grin, you placed your right hand on his bulge. He was rock-hard, he enjoyed in your earlier teasing. "Ooh," you breathed, "impressive for an old man like you. So hard, and I didn't even touch you."

He leaned closer, his eyes burning with desire. He liked your touch, liked the way you were pushing his buttons. "Don't stop, please." He muttered.

You started rubbing his pants, a slow, deliberate motion. He groaned, his head thrown back.

"Imagine what I could do if you'd let me," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice rough.

You add "I feel it's the big one."

He looked at your face."You… you like them big, don't you?" he growled.

"Fuck yes, I do," you whispered, your eyes locked with his. You slipped your hand into his pants. He was so hard and throbbing, already leaking with precum. He groaned, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips. He hadn't felt this in years. He enjoyed your touch, the way your hand explored his length.

"Your hand is so soft," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "You handle a cock just as good as you do a gun, darlin'."

"Fuck, I really wanna have this cock in my mouth," you breathed, your voice husky with desire. He groaned again, "I'm so close…"

You increased the pressure, your movements faster, harder. He arched his back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then, he erupted, a wave of pleasure washing over him. He came hard on your hand, a low moan escaping his lips. He was breathing heavily, his body trembling. You slightly move a thumb across the tip of his cock.

"Looks like your cock likes my attitude, Mr. Miller," you teased, a triumphant glint in your eye.

He cursed, "Fuck, that was good."

"Well, look at the mess you've made," you said, a playful smile on your lips. "Can I get some kind of compliment at least?"

He stammered, "I… I'm sorry. Thanks…" He didn't know what to say. He was still reeling from the intensity of the moment.

You found a rag and cleaned your hand, then left the garage, heading towards the bathroom. You left him standing there, his breath still ragged.

His mind reeling like What the fuck was that?

You went into the shower, your mind still reeling from the ongoings in the garage. The way he looked at you, the way his body had reacted… It was exhilarating and strangely satisfying. You wanted him, badly.

After showering and dressing, you came downstairs. He showed up looking surprisingly sexy and clean.

"Well, don't you look pretty," Ellie teased, her eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, like some DILF from a magazine," you added, a playful smirk on your lips.

He blushed slightly, "Shut up," he muttered. You went into garage, then you climbed into the truck. Ellie squeezed into the passenger seat beside Joel, while you settled into the back. Joel glanced at you from the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary. He was still surprised, still processing what had almost happened back in the garage.

"Here," you said, handing him a small CD case. "Play this. It's my favorite."

He slipped the CD into the player, and as the music began to play, a soft melody filling the truck, you leaned back against the seat, a comfortable silence settling between you. You glanced at Joel, who was focused on the road, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and then.

And as the truck rumbled down the road, disappearing into the fading light of the setting sun, you knew that this journey, already fraught with danger, was about to become a whole lot more interesting.

Thank you for the reading 💜

Chapter 1

Please like, reblog and comment. Send me your reviews. ❣️

Chapter 3

[anakinca]

hum... anakin taking care of us after we get sick.. would our dear nina be willing to write that..🤔

—❝safety net❞

anakin skywalker x reader

tw ; nothing, just pure fluff

a/n ; i was literally giggling and kicking my feet while i wrote this it was so fucking CUTE. i hope you all enjoy this, angels <3

THE STARS ARE COVERED BY THE DARK, RAIN FILLED CLOUDS THAT COVER THE SKY. The rainstorm outside raged on, drumming against the windows of your flat like the echo of a distant battle, but inside, the bedroom was a haven of warmth and comfort. The soft glow of the bedside lamps bathed everything in a dim, golden hue—from the tissues scattered across the bed, to the steaming bowl of soup resting on the nightstand. You sat bundled in the thickest blankets Anakin could find, your cheeks flushed with a fever and a faint pout on your lips. "I'm not sick," you sniffled stubbornly, though the congestion in your voice betrayed your words. You coughed into your fist, trying to look composed despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." Anakin arched an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that half-smirk you both loved and dreaded. "Sure, you’re not," he drawled, his voice low and teasing, but laced with concern. With practiced ease, he scooped up a spoonful of soup, holding it up to your lips with a quiet but insistent, "Here. Eat." You hesitated, only for him to nudge the spoon closer, his ocean eyes narrowing in mock impatience. "Don’t make me use the Force to get you to take this," he teased, though his voice softened as he added, "Please, angel." You took the spoonful reluctantly, earning a satisfied nod from him. "See?" He said, setting the bowl aside momentarily. "I told you not to go running around in the rain without an umbrella, but no, you had to have your dramatic holo-movie moment." He rolled his eyes playfully, a sigh escaping him as he handed you a mug of steaming tea next, his touch lingering on your fingers as he passed it to you. "And now look at you. Feverish, sniffling, and your nose is running faster than a podracer on Tatooine." You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of you, even though it ended in a cough. Peeking up at him, you tilted your head and gave him your best wide-eyed, pleading look. "I won’t do it next time," you murmured, your voice soft and guilt-tinged. "Don’t be mad at me, Ani." He sighed, the sound heavy with feigned exasperation, though his expression betrayed nothing but affection and utter love for you. Sitting down beside you, he cupped your cheek with his gloved hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your fever-warmed skin. "Mad at you?" He repeated, his voice almost a whisper. "I could never be mad at you, my love. You could crash my starfighter into the Jedi Temple, and I’d still think the stars hung in your eyes. And you know how much I love my ship." You laughed weakly, leaning into his touch as warmth spread through your chest—not just from the soup, but from the way his love wrapped around you like a safety net. "Now, finish your soup," he said, his voice firmer but still impossibly gentle. "And then sleep. You need to rest if you’re going to get better." You nodded, obediently finishing the last of the soup before sinking deeper into the blankets. As he stood to take the bowl away, you mumbled through a yawn, "I’ll sleep, but you better not eat the last jogan fruit. That’s mine." Anakin chuckled, shaking his head as he crouched back down beside you, his gloved fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I wouldn’t dare," he said, his voice soft with adoration. "Anything for you, my little troublemaker." “You’re the one calling me a troublemaker?” You murmured in a teasing tone as your eyelids grew heavier. He let out a small huff of a laugh, choosing to ignore your comment as he pulled the blankets over you more. As the rain continued its soothing rhythm outside, you drifted into sleep, comforted by his presence. Anakin stayed by your side a moment longer, watching your peaceful expression with a fond smile before pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my love," he whispered, his voice a gentle promise. Then, as you dozed off, he thought of the bowl of jogan fruits sitting on the kitchen counter—with only one left inside—and smirked. For you, he’d leave it untouched—though he was already planning a trip to the market tomorrow to buy you an entire stash. Anything to see that smile on your face again.

@thesassypadawan @anakinstwinklebunny @sydkneez @dessxoxsworld @nikiloveshayden @sweetcheesecakesblog

let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list, angels <3

[lyiswriting]

Plus size reader x stalker!OC

This is an original character! but I do get COD ghost and Ghostface vibes from him.

I finally caught him! The goddamn stalker that has been watching and freaking me out for months. I get that this might not have been my best idea but here we are! He's handcuffed to a chair and just looking at me. Watching my every move as I pace around the room indecisive if I should call the cops. Why do you do this? I ask sternly, I'm nervous but try not to show it but he knows better. Why not? Tilts his head, you're fucking gorgeous and entertaining. I scuffs that's not a good answer, there's a good answer to that?

Well...not exactly... I think you're precious, you hung the stars for me. Life has never been brighter, I love to watch your every move. How pretty you look asleep, cooking, reading, and writing. You fucking name it! His voice is rough and his eyes darken as he starts talking more. In the fucking shower he groans and throws his head back, even with his mask still on I can tell he's smirking. I look at him Your sick! Oh, but doll face you love every single second of it. I've read those books you fawn over, those are just fictional. He scuffs and shakes his head, maybe...but I laid in your bed, read your books when you didn't even know. I love your sheets and can't wait for when I get you in them.

You're a damn perv! As if that will ever fucking happen...I mumble as my hands shake trying to hold my phone steady. Once again, you love it. You love how I'm getting hard at just recalling all of this. That someone finally actually cares and loves you enough to lose his mind over you. To risk losing everything he has just because he can't stay away from you. Shifts in his seat look at how hard you have me, baby. I look at him shocked, how can he say that so casually. How can he be hard from all this!?

I don't get it, why go through all of this for me? I'm not special, not smart, not rich and totally not pretty according to society. Don't fucking say that! He suddenly barks making me jump. You are the epitome of gorgeous. He tilts his head as he starts to pant, I'm stupid for letting him keep talking. You think I would go through all of this for someone who isn't a diamond? For someone who looks like everyone else? He laughs and shakes his head no baby.

I'm being a nice guy to you and letting you fucking think you have the upper hand. So keep that little mouth of yours in check, he growls. I look at him and my body shaking in fear. Who the fuck do you think you are? I try to act tough, this is my house. You are the one that's handcuffed! I point at him as I walk closer I do have the upper hand! And what's wrong with me saying the truth? To the media I am not pretty,

I love your voice, he suddenly switched tones as he looks at me lovingly. I love the way you think, I love your body, no matter how big. I love every single mark and scar on it. You're my solstice. His soft tone suddenly goes rough again, but I won't let you talk about yourself in that way. I suddenly hear him grunt and something breaking. I back up as he stands the cuffs sitting on his wrists, broken.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Twenty)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful, and is all total bollocks.

Warning for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Twenty: Y/N is settled, albeit a little lonely, with life moving along while Cillian works away on the long stretch to Christmas. But he texts her early one morning and ends up dropping a bomb that not only raises her anxiety, but also leaves her wondering again if Cillian's mind is ever truly made up - not to mention dealing with the fallout of the bomb. [Anxiety themes. Family dynamics]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @meadowshelby @strangeions @lavender-haze-01 @watermeezer

.......

You frown at your phone, a little confused by the text message you've just received from Cillian. It's barely gone eight am and you've only just sat down to start work. He's been back in England for two weeks now, and you've settled into a balance of working, ringing him in the evening, sleeping alone and repeating it…daily! You’ve received an abundance of messages from former friends and people from home, and from Sophie, over Cillian's images online following interviews, and have laughed heartily over one insinuating that he looked like he was enjoying oral sex! Cillian didn't find it as amusing - “can I not fucking stretch, boy?!” - but you'd found it hilarious. You pick up the phone from your desk and open the message, hoping to glean more from it than the notification bar. You scan your eyes over the text.

“I had a chat to Aran last night. There are a few things bothering him and we have questions to answer. I'll call you in about an hour and give you the full details. I love you so much.”

Your stomach drops instantly. This can't be good, surely? And calling in an hour? And sorry, but ‘I love you so much’. What? You quickly tap out a reply to him, your hands beginning to feel airy and tingly.

“No, no, no, you prick! Don't do this to me. What's going on? Ring me now!”

You set your phone back down and sit back into the office chair, tapping your fingers against the armrests. Why would he ever think it was okay to infer something and then basically hold off? How could he do that! And what the hell is going on with Aran? You get up from the chair and pace a few steps around the floorspace, then stare back at the phone and beg it to ring. You drop back down into the chair and sigh loudly, feeling suddenly ridiculously sick. You do recall you'd felt rather sick going to bed last night, too, and begin to assume that your anxiety levels really are affecting you severely. It's ten minutes before you receive anything further, and you're almost surprised when it's a phone call. You snatch your phone up and stare at “Cill” on the screen before swiping to accept it.

“Cill, you can't do that…” you say instantly.

He clears his throat, “I didn't think, Y/N, I'm sorry.”

You sigh deeply. “Okay.” You run your hand across your face. “So what's the problem with Aran?”

Cillian pauses for a long time, clears his throat again, and then you hear an odd sound with his mouth followed by a prolonged exhale and you know he's smoking a cigarette. You want to believe it's because they're working again, but you can't be sure. He had taken up smoking again during the period before his divorce, and you knew it had been a partial habit before that, too. You'd hate for him to have reclaimed it. “He'd some questions last night. I asked him about things recently and he said if I'd the right to ask him for explanations, then he could get some from me too.”

You frown, thinking the young man had a bit of an attitude for a moment, but you couldn't totally understand the behavioural shift going so far as to be that rude to his Dad, “Right. About what?”

You hear Cillian take a deep breath before he speaks. “Some things he found on that fucking laptop.” he says and you're not sure if it's through gritted teeth or he's got the cigarette in his mouth.

“Cill, stop dragging it out, for fucks sake! What?” You snap, and instantly feel a little mean for it.

You hear him mutter a sharp-toned “fuck” and exhale - probably cigarette smoke - again. “Old fucking iPhone logs that had saved to the fucking thing, or something. He read the fuckers, checked the dates. Y/N, he's been through loads of messages from before Yvonne and I split up. He knows what we were doing, and he knows…he knows about the fucking abortion.”

Your stomach sinks to your knees and your heart thumps wildly in your chest. “No….?” You mumble.

“He's not blackmailing, he's not planning on sharing it with Mal or Yvonne, he said. I mean, fuck, he's not that much of a bollocks.” His accent thickens up and he sing-songs his way through vowels animatedly. “But he wants to fucking understand. And he wants to know if we'd have kept the baby if it had happened after his Mum and me separated. He wants to talk to us both when I'm home. He's angry, and he doesn't understand, and said there's loads of things he wants to ask.” You hear Cillian sigh deeply and you don't know if he's angry or worried for what's next. “Sure, I don't even know what's on there - I've no idea how far back, or up to when. Like, I've no fucking clue, boy!” He raises his voice.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and when you bring your hand up to cover your face, you realise you're crying. “Shit.” You sigh. “No fucking wonder he's been acting differently. He's devastated.”

You hear him inhale deeply again, and you find yourself thinking over the possibility of him smoking again, hoping it's just an “in character” habit and not something he's going to lean back into now. “Y/N, listen to me; he said clearly he doesn't hate us over this, but he's angry, and he doesn't understand it but he wants to. We need to let him ask his questions. Because if he doesn't get it, then all he's going to think is that Yvonne and I split up because I was seeing you behind her back. And if that's his thinking, then to him I'll just be some prick who cheated on his mother.”

“And what does that make me? Just some slut!” You snap back at him. “God, I feel sick!”

“Stop it. Nobody thinks that. It wasn't your fault.” He insists. “I'm gonna get home for a day or two, as soon as I can, and we'll have him in for a talk.” Cillian sounds considerably more calm all of a sudden and you wonder if there are people around him now. “I can talk to you again later, but I've to go. I'm sorry.”

“Why?” You ask, though you're not sure why - why you asked, or why he's sorry.

“Because you're being made to feel bad because of me again.” He says and the sadness is intoxicating, and not in a good way.

“Cill,” you say, and it's less of a spoken word and more of an exhale. “No, it isn't your fault.”

He breathes deeply. “I'll ring you later on, alright? I love you.”

“I love you too.” You say, and you wait for the line to go dead before you draw the phone down from your face. You hold the phone in your hand and stare at your open laptop for a moment, suddenly hating the piece of technology despite it not even being the offending object. The feeling of intense anxiety has slowly settled to just a feeling of deep dread - though you're sure there isn't much difference - and has moved aside somewhat for the nauseating unrest in your stomach.

You have a strong urge to text or call Aran yourself, and see if he'll meet with you alone. He's not far away, for fucks sake! But you know you can't - he's a child, still, and he's not your child. And the last thing you would ever want to do is upset Cillian by causing problems for him with his children. You sigh deeply and drop your phone onto the tablet. Regardless of how you feel now, you have to work. You draw your chair closer to the desk and log into your work email account - your mind is flustered and you just wish Cillian was here, but you've come to know that wishes are rarely granted.

You close the lid of your laptop and sit back with a groan, stretching your legs out before you receive your body a little. You've barely moved all day, keeping your mind focused on work to prevent bombarding Cillian with texts or counting down the minutes until he calls again. While your anxiety had settled enough for working, you still felt a heavy nausea in your stomach, even as you shut the door on the office behind you. You walk slowly down the first set of stairs and then the second, landing with a soft step at the bottom of the stairs. Though you haven't been near it all day, you check that the front door is still locked and that the alarm is still primed before you move to the kitchen. You pull the fridge door open and stare inside - you've had two coffees and a few glasses of water throughout the day, but couldn't bring yourself to food. Despite feeling hungry too, the nausea trumps it and you shut the door again without touching a thing. Sighing, you open the fridge and remove one of the bottles of Cillian's beer at the bottom. You close the door with your hip and set the bottle onto the island as you search for the opener. It's not in the drawer it usually is, nor on the drainer, and you're about to curse the entire kitchen when you find it in the second drawer. You passive-aggressively pop the cap off and get your revenge on the opener by throwing it down onto the island. You take your beer to the sofa and snuggle into the corner, with your knees pulled up and the TV controls in hand. You don't even get to select an app on the green before your phone rings, and you toss down the controls and draw your phone from the pocket of your hoodie. Of course, it's Cillian.

“Hi,” you say softly, cupping the phone to your ear.

“Well, are y'alright?” He asks, and he sounds tired and gruff.

“No. Are you?” You reply.

“Ah, sure…” he dismisses you. “Here, I'd a word today with Steven. I'll come home on the weekend. I let Aran know there in a text. He says that's grand, so at least this isn't going to be hanging over us.”

“There is no way he isn't going to tell his mother.” You say when he goes quiet. “And maybe he should, maybe we should have. But I can't take this, Cill. It's been three years since you got divorced, we shouldn't now be hashing things over.”

“Ah, stop, will ya. I don't need reminding of all the bad choices I've made here, Y/N!” He groans. “I was gonna leave her, it was just easier to do it when I had you too. You didn't do anything wrong; it was me married, not you. I'll deal with whatever I have to here.”

“Is Aran okay? Really okay?” You ask, “If he knows about the termination then it must be a strange thing for him - there could have been a baby, related to him.”

“On the phone before he was calm, angry but calm. Demanding, but sure maybe he has the right. He's nearly eighteen, you know, they're not wee kids. Sure, maybe I've got to demand of them some adult behaviour, but to get that I'll have to give it too.” he says, and you're not entirely sure what the tone of his voice means.

“What do you mean?” You ask, frowning. “Like with a baby?”

He sighs into the phone before he speaks again. “Like with a lot of things. I feel so fucking guilty over walking out, I forget they've got their own lives carved out now and our relationship has to be different than it was three or four years back. It shouldn't matter what I do now as much as it used to, maybe? Sure, I dunno…”

You feel anger burning up in you, “If you turn your fucking mind around again now, Cillian, I swear to God I will walk.”

“What?” His tone changes again, but you're sure you knew what he was getting at. “Y/N? What?”

You feel sicker than ever but you're so sure you could hear yet another flip-flop in his decision that all you could do was focus on the burning anger at that possibility. “I'm glad you're having a fucking revelation, Cill, that's fucking fantastic, but if you use Aran finding this information as a means to go back again and tell me you want to go ahead with parenthood for a second time, I think I will actually be the one responsible for the headlines “Cillian Murphy found dead”. I swear it, Cillian. Don't do this!”

“Ah fuck off,” he snaps, “I didn't say I had changed my mind back,” he insists, and that ever-melodic Cork twang peaks up again, elongating vowels and clipping words with abandon. “I said I've to have a different relationship with my kids now. That I don't have to consider them for every choice I'm going to make. What are ye on about me going back and changing my mind?” He huffs loudly. “I know you're feeling like I've fucking gone off and left ye, and now I'm throwing my mistakes at ye with Aran and the fucking laptop, but don't be going down some dark path and make out I'm here to cause you upset deliberately. I'm not, Y/N. I'm not trying to make this hard for you.”

You wonder if you've over-assumed, if you've let your mind get sucked down, but you're sure the tone he spoke with and the answer he gave when you said a baby meant something. But you feel guilty for the temper he's flared up with, and you take a deep breath and try to calm your anger.

“Hey, Y/N?” He calls your name, and it's softer than his words before. “Y/N, don't ignore me, will ye.” He sighs heavily. “Please, I'm sorry if… I'm sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry, maybe I just - I'm sorry.” You say quietly. You don't feel sorry, not really, but the thought of leaving him there upset - or yourself here upset - makes you feel worse than muttering a few words.

You hear him sigh and know that the risk of a full scale row is mitigated, because he sighs with a small laugh. “Did you not get that hormone surge over with?”

“Not really,” you sigh and he laughs again. “What's funny?”

“What do you mean not really?” He asks and you know he's smirking.

“I had like a really light period, it wasn't enough of a relief for the fucking tension.” You say, and find yourself so ridiculous that you laugh as he does. “Cill, I just don't want this to cause problems. I want Aran to be happy, and I don't want him to feel badly about me again. And I don't want you or us to change.”

“I don't want things to change either.” He says with a gentle voice. “Definitely not if it's for the worse. Good changes wouldn't be bad, now.”

You smile, “What's a good change?” You ask, and you hear him exhale a soft, breathy laugh.

“Ah, I dunno,” he hums and you hear the sound of a click, followed by a deep inhale.

“Cillian?” You are instantly accusatory, you know, but you really don't want him back-stepping. “Smoking?”

“Ah, give over. I spent the day puffing the fake bastards whilst stressing my fucking bollocks off. I won't buy another pack.” He says with an earnest promise. “I won't,” he adds and you wonder if he could somehow sense the face you've pulled. “Anyway, come here, don't be worrying too much over Aran. I'll get home there Friday evening and we'll get him over Saturday and let him say what he needs to, and we can get our own words out too.”

“And you think it'll be okay, for him, once we talk? He'll settle back down if we're just honest?” You ask as that thread of anxiety begins to pick up again. You sip at your half finished beer.

“I hope so,” he says, sounding sleepy. “I love you, and sure whatever happens I'll still love you. Alright?”

You smile, but you can feel a lump in your throat at his words. “Yeah - I love you too.”

“Well, go on, get away and watch your shite TV. I'm gonna get a bath and sleep.” You can hear the smirk as he speaks. “Good night, mo ghrá.”

“Night, love.” You say quietly, and pull the phone down from your face. You're not sure if you feel better or not, but you don't feel any worse. You wish he was here, you wish things had been open from the outset, and you dread the anticipation of seeing Aran's reactions at the weekend but you relish it too, because you wonder if it'll make you feel better. If someone other than Cillian knows about what you endured, even if it is his angry son, maybe it'll take some of the pain away from you.

[naamahdarling]

.

[silusvesuius]

n*loth not being able to bag anyone over the (human term) age of 25-30 at most is the only logical and real conclusion to me because it can be just explained away as him wanting to prove and control everything and anyone (Cus he's a man!) but being stuck in that demographic because his unbearable and vile personality is a force that nobody can look past once they've outgrown the possible fear and idolization period of anyone but also n*loth in particular.

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[musical-chick-13]

.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

In light of Brian Thompson being shot dead on my birthday (🎉🥳🎂) I'd like to share a personal story about UnitedHealthcare.

During the peak of COVID, my family all got sick. I couldn't be on my parents' insurance because they were both older and on Medicare. So, I had insurance through my University: UnitedHealthcare.

For some reason, rather than roll-over each year, I got a new plan each year that ended after May and didn't start until August, so I was uninsured for the summer months, but it was a weird situation that the university denied, and told us we were supposed to be insured year-round, it was messy.

Both of my parents went to the hospital, and I got sick too. I had to take care of my pets, and myself, and try to stay alive and keep my pets alive when I was so weak I could hardly move. When my parents came home, my condition got dramatically worse (I think my body knew it couldn't give out, because there was nobody to take care of me, so once my parents were okay, it completely crashed and failed.)

I started experiencing emergency symptoms. It was a bit hard to breathe, my chest hurt, and I was extremely delirious. I wanted to call my insurance to see if I was covered (this was during the summer) and I was connected to some nice person, probably making minimum wage, who told me with caution in her voice that my plan was expired. I had no active insurance, but she urged me to go to an emergency room. I remember saying something to the effect of "You just told me I don't have insurance, I can't go to the hospital, I can't afford it."

She sounded so genuinely worried and scared. I remember she said "You really don't sound good, you sound really sick, please call 9-1-1" and I think I just said "I can't afford it without insurance, don't worry, I think I'll be okay."

And she paused and said "I don't want to hang up the phone with you like this." And it sounded like she was holding back tears. And I don't remember what I said, I think that I would be okay, and I hung up.

I still think about her. I wonder if that phone call haunted her, or if she had dozens of calls like that a day. I wonder if she thinks about it at all, if she wonders if I died after she told me I didn't have insurance and therefore couldn't go to the hospital without incurring a tremendous financial burden. I wonder if she feels guilt or blame-- of course she shouldn't, it wouldn't have been her fault if anything had happened to me. Maybe it's self-centered to wonder if she thinks about it. I'm not the main character and it was just her job. But, still.

I think about how evil it was that we were put in that situation. Because offering year-long continuous coverage through the university plan would maybe cut into profits, maybe not benefit shareholders enough, maybe cut into Thompson's $10 million salary. While his minimum wage administrators have to feel afraid to hang up the phone, because on the other line someone might be dying, and they wouldn't know. While his patients hang up and decide to take their chances rather than put their family through that trauma.

This is UnitedHealthcare. This is Brian Thompson's legacy. This is why, understandably, an entire nation is jubilant that he was gunned down like the vermin he was. I don't care about his widow. I feel pity for his children, despite the fact that they will inherit millions, but I feel more pity for the children of his victims patients who are gone because they didn't want THEIR children to inherit crippling debt. Brian Thompson got what he fucking deserved. I pray that he not be the only one. I pray for continued safety, peace , and anonymity for his killer.

American healthcare is a disease.

[alexiroflife]

jjk men when you aren't feeling well but try to hide it...

"hello! i was wondering if you could write an angst but w comfort fluff headcannon w the jjk men? i was thinking reader has an injury or is sick but she hides it, but they find out. it would be great if you can, but if not i totally understand. your writing is amazing!!!" -anon

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo: (sprained ankle!)

you're fucked.

you know you are the moment you go to pick yourself up from your boyfriend's hardwood kitchen floors and wince in pain in reaction to the pressure in your left ankle.

you hiss, immediately stumbling back to a sitting position. You look over your outstretched foot to find that your ankle is rapidly swelling, and you curse under your breath.

this is so inconvenient. of all times to injure yourself, you of course had to a day before an important mission. you never handle injuries very well. you are always so quick to brush them off, or at least be in denial about them because you can't stand the thought of feeling helpless or incapable.

especially not when satoru gojo is your boyfriend, who unfortunately knows you far too well to overlook something like an injury to your ankle.

damn. what are you supposed to do? satoru will never let you out of his sight, let alone allow you to go on this mission if he finds out about your injury. as much as you love the way he looks after you, you're not in the mood to accept the fact that you may not be able to walk for a few days without his help.

you try to stand again, stubborn with determination. you grip onto the countertop and rise slowly on your able foot, then lean to press your injured foot down slowly. okay... not so bad! Maybe you can add just a little bit more pressure, and-

"fuck," you curse, sharp pain throbbing through your foot the moment you try to walk. You lift your leg immediately and whimper, leaning your body against the counter. "god dammit," you pout.

you should ice it, you think, but icing it will only make the injury more real. maybe it's not so bad, right? maybe if you just sit down for a bit and push it to the back of your head, it will go away?

you know it's not smart, but truthfully, you don't have the time to worry about a stupid ankle. you're sure you only irritated it. with some rest, you'll be fine.

you hop your way up the stairs with your hand gripping the railing tightly to your shared bedroom and ease yourself into bed. you decide you'll take a nap while you wait for satoru to come home, ignoring the simmering pain in your swollen ankle.

"babyyy!"

you wake suddenly to the sound of satoru's voice singing through the house. you jump and immediately hold in a whimper of pain when you accidentally shift your foot beneath the covers. you can tell solely by the lack of mobility in your ankle that it's, unsurprisingly, gotten worse.

you panic, moving quickly to prop your back up against the headboard. you fix yourself in the most normal possible position you can without agitating your foot, and you turn to the door with an innocent expression the second satoru bursts through with a beam.

"hey, pretty," he walks in and immediately crouches over the bed to wrap you up in a hug. you cringe as his lips meet every crook of your face, his body enveloping you in warmth. "missed you so much today," he sighs.

"missed you too, toru," you wrap your arms around his back. "how was your day?"

"same old same old. the higher-ups only get more annoying each day, if that's even possible," he grumbles into your ear, slumping against you. "what are you doing cooped up here all by yourself? you taking a nap?"

"yeah, I just woke up," you tell him with a hefty exhale, his lips meeting the crook of your neck lazily as he nuzzles into you. "you wanna take one with me, you big baby?" you giggle.

"god yes," satoru agrees. "but first, I'm starving. did you eat while I was gone?"

"nah, I waited for you, toru."

"well, you normally cook, baby, I was waiting for you."

you momentarily freeze and he pulls back reluctantly, not before dotting one more kiss to the crook of your jaw. you had completely forgotten about making dinner, but seeing how you couldn't even walk, those cards were off the table.

he looks down at you with his arms propped on either side of your figure on the bed. your ankle continues to throb, and while you try to hide the pain that you are currently in by shifting ever so subtly beneath him, his sapphire eyes catch the twitch in your brow and the motion of your body beneath his blindfold.

"not that I care if you cook or not. obviously you were tired..." he trails off. "you okay?"

fucking hell, damn those six eyes.

you nod despite yourself, keeping a soft smile as you brush your fingers over satoru's hair. "yeah, of course. just tired like you said. I'm sorry about dinner, it slipped my mind."

"don't you dare apologize," he ducks down to kiss your cheek loudly. "we can go out to eat. make it a date before your big mission tomorrow, yeah?"

you internally deflate. the idea sounds amazing, but going on a date would mean getting up, getting dressed, and walking out the door. you're unfortunately physically incapable of doing any of the above at the moment.

satoru watches the way your shoulders slump and your lips part as if to protest, and he tilts his head in slight confusion. "...or not..." he says slowly.

"sorry, toru, it's not that I don't wanna go, i just don't have the energy..." you excuse pathetically.

satoru's face tells you that he doesn't buy your words, but he complies nonetheless. "that's no problem, baby, we can order in instead."

you sigh and nod with a gentle smile. "that sounds great."

"someone's feeling real lazy today, huh?" he teases, hooking his finger into his blindfold to peel it from his face, revealing his bright irises gazing curiously down at you. "you sure you're just tired?"

"yeah... why?"

"i'm just askin," he says. his eyes dart over you one more time before he pushes himself up with an exhale and tugging at your arm. "come on, let's go to the living room to order."

why the hell does he want to move around so much?!

"um- why can't we just order here?"

a smile quirks on Satoru's lips as though you've made a joke. "cause, we'll be downstairs once the food gets here," he says.

you pucker your lips slightly and tilt your head. "can't we just eat it up here and you can go get it?"

gojo's eyes are now slim with suspicion as he pulls himself back over to you. "i mean, of course i can but you never eat takeout in bed, we always cuddle downstairs and eat."

"I'm tired, can't i change it up today?"

"you know i have no problem doing what you want and pampering you baby," satoru starts slowly. his eyes dash to your legs, and he suddenly notes that he has not seen you bend them in the few minutes he has been home. in fact, you had been rather stagnant instead of running up to clobber him when he entered the room, whether you were previously asleep or not. "but you're acting a little weird."

"no, I'm not," you deny adamantly. you have always been a poor liar, but in the face of Satoru Gojo, your lack of talent in the arena only proves to be more prominent. "you think too much, you know that?"

"you think so?" he raises a brow at you, a hint of playfulness remaining though it is steadily fleeting the longer he examines you. "you think i'm thinking too much if i feel like you're lying to me?"

you press your lips together tightly. "...yes."

"hm," he nods. "come here for a second, pretty," he requests, stepping back a bit to give you room to stand. "just real quick, then you can lay back down and I'll get us that food."

"why do you want me to stand?"

"i wanna give you a big hug," he opens his arms widely. "c'mon, give your loving boyfriend a hug. you'd never deny me that after such a long day."

"come hug me here, then," you roll your eyes, turning to look the other way as heat overtakes your body.

"i want to hold you and pick you up," he argues, knowingly. "just stand and walk to me for one second."

"no."

"no?!"

"no, i don't want to."

"don't want to or you can't?" he accuses, face falling along with his arms. he moves to sit at the edge of the bed beside your legs, resting a hand over your uninjured one. "why can't you get up?" he asks, this time a tad more serious.

"i don't feel like it, satoru, god," you murmur in annoyance, growing agitated with his swiftness to notice that something is wrong.

"don't 'satoru' me, baby, you're the one not telling the truth," he says. "what's wrong with your legs?"

"nothing."

"then stand up."

"no, satoru. stop telling me to stand."

"i will if you tell me what's wrong."

"nothing's wrong!" you shrug harshly, crossing your arms and suddenly taking interest in whatever is outside of the bedroom window. satoru stares at you intently for a moment then back down at your covered legs.

he gazes harshly between the two, pondering, before reaching over to rip the comforter upward to reveal your bare feet. you gasp slightly, jerking to stop him, when your swollen ankle is revealed.

his brows immediately angle and he leans to hastily look over it. "(y/n), what the hell?! what happened to your foot?"

you grow embarrassed suddenly, moving to brush his hands away. "it's not that bad, stop," you say, going to move your leg to the side when you hiss sharply.

"not that bad? baby, your ankle's the size of a golfball!"

"satoru, you're being dramatic."

"what happened?" he asks, concerned. "did this happen while I was gone?"

"it's fine, relax."

"(y/n)," satoru begins sternly. you can tell that you've pinched a nerve. "i'm about to lose it if you don't tell me how this happened and why you were trying to hide it from me."

you frown. "But-"

"Now."

you hug your arms around yourself with another meek shrug. "it's humiliating..." you murmur.

satoru softens slightly. "baby, humiliating? i'm worried about you getting hurt."

"yeah, but-" you sigh and close your eyes, your emotions suddenly getting the best of you. you hate feeling small and weak, as though you can't handle yourself, and you swear every time you injure yourself or get sick, it's the worst possible thing that could happen in the entire world. "i don't know. whatever."

"uh uh uh," your white-haired boyfriend tuts, leaning over the smooth his hand over your leg comfortingly. "it's not 'whatever.' i know exactly how you are. you can't fool me. is this about your mission tomorrow?"

"it's not just about the mission, toru, i just don't- i hate it when i can't do stuff on my own."

"you don't have to tell me something i'm already well aware of." you give him a look. "don't look at me like that. i know you like the back of my hand, and i especially know when you're uncomfortable."

"i get it, toru," you frown.

"why the attitude, hm?" he asks, leaning over to prop his elbow on the other side of you, his body resting against your lap as he peers up at you gently. "it's okay to get hurt- well, no, it's not okay for you to get hurt because it makes me wanna die, but you get what I mean."

your lips twitch in amusement momentarily, leading satoru to grin widely.

"there's that pretty smile."

"it's just-" you huff. "it was such a stupid thing... i rolled my ankle stepping down from closing the cabinets and when it started getting worse, i thought it was so dumb that something so small did that to me so i left it alone. now it's probably twisted, and i just feel really..."

"you're not weak," satoru interjects urgently. "if that's what you're saying, which i'm pretty sure you are. you're far from what i would call weak."

"still. it still made me feel weak. and i'm supposed to go on that mission tomorrow, and i don't know what the hell i'm gonna tell yaga-"

"forget the mission."

"...satoru, i can't just-"

"you can and you will. you have an injury, baby. you can't walk. it's okay, i'll talk to yaga and he'll get someone else on the assignment while I take care of you."

"but the fact that you even have to do that because i was clumsy!" you shake your head and look down. "it's so ridiculous. and i knew you were gonna worry..."

"of course i'm gonna worry, (y/n). no less than you'd worry for me."

"but you're you."

"so? do you worry for me any less because of that?"

"i mean... i know you're always gonna be fine, but... yeah, i guess."

"you guess?" satoru scoffs. "to think, my girlfriend doesn't care about me..."

"oh shut up," you nudge his head away. his grin remains, face turning back to you as he captures you in his soft gaze. "obviously I worry."

"then, there you go," satoru says. his free hand runs over your hip. "i know you can handle yourself just fine and that you're strong as hell, but whether you're going on a mission or stubbing your toe, I'm worrying 'cause i love you."

you pout slightly. "I love you too."

"i know," he beams, kissing your thigh. "so stop with that. as if you'd ever be weak for getting a little boo boo."

"yeah, but now you're not gonna let me do anything," you whine.

"is there really such a big problem with that?" satoru smirks. "try hiding an injury from me again, and you really won't be able to do anything. now let me see."

he pushes himself up to round the edge of the bed. he kneels down and cradles your foot in his hand delicately, fingers grazing the area of swelling. his brow angles. "can you move it?"

you shake your head slowly. "not without it hurting."

"in all seriousness, baby, you need to take better care of yourself. why didn't you ice it?"

"...i wanted it to go away."

"and you walked up the stairs after rolling your ankle?!"

"i wanted to get into bed!"

satoru lowers his head. "what am i gonna do with you? you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

"it's really not that serious. i just need to rest it a bit and then I'll be fine-"

"i'm gonna go cook you some dinner, okay? then we can eat in bed and cuddle, and then I'll run you a hot bath later."

"satoru, i just said it's not that serious! please don't go burning down the house because of my ankle. we can literally still order food," you try to convince him, but the blue-eyed man is already on his feet, by your side, and kissing your lips.

"not another word. you're practically dying, now, i have to look after you."

"toru-"

"i'll be right back, i'm gonna grab you some ice and a pillow for your foot."

"satoru!"

but when you call him, he's already zooming out of the room and down the stairs. you sigh and plop your head back against the headboard with a soft smile. as humiliating as you find it to be injured, you can never say that gojo doesn't do everything he can, if not excessively more, to look after you when you are.

suguru geto: (cold!)

shit.

you step into the bathroom for the umpteenth time today to blow your nose, clearing your searing throat as you do so with a groan.

something in you knew this morning that you were coming down with a cold when you woke up to that dreadful scratch in the back of your throat, but the idea of getting sick physically ails you more than actually being sick does.

you're far too busy today to be weighed down by some common cold. you're in between meetings at work as you toss another tissue into the women's trash. You have paperwork to finish filling out by midnight, and you have to pick up the girls later from daycare.

how can you be sick of all things?

you know it's likely because you run yourself ragged more often than you need to, and suguru always tells you to slow down and take a breath, but you rarely listen to him. your life moves at a quick pace, constantly on the run from one task to the next, and you truly do not feel that you have the leisure of giving yourself one second to rest.

you're on the verge of earning a new promotion, and you need the money. you need the opportunities, and the accomplishments to care for the family you've built with geto. just as suguru works tirelessly to manage his cult, you work tirelessly to keep a living for yourself.

you're proud of the work you have done, truly you are, but at times it feels as though you are amounting to nothing, chasing promises of a higher position that have yet to come. despite the haziness of the path ahead, you push harder and harder each day.

suguru hates it, how you drive yourself to the brink of insanity day in and day out, but you can't help but be an overachiever. you can't help but work hard for those who may not even deserve it.

and now, of course, you're sick. you can feel your temperature spiking, your nose is stuffy, and your head is pounding. you want to go home and curl into bed, but you have responsibilities to fulfill. just a few more hours... then you're home with geto, with the girls, safe in bed just to wake up and do it all over again tomorrow.

you jump when your phone suddenly rings in your pocket. you pull it out to see your boyfriend's contact, and you straighten yourself up as best as you can to make it sound as though you aren't struggling to breathe through your nostrils.

"hello?"

"hey, babe, how's work going?" suguru's soothing voice echoes through the phone and you sigh, clinging to the comfort his tone provides. you miss him. you want to go home already.

"it's good," you lie. "i have a few more meetings. then some paperwork to finish, but I'll be able to get mimi and nana on time."

"actually, i called to tell you not to worry about that. i got finished up here with the group pretty early, so i'll be able to get them later."

you're relieved that you won't have to expose the girls to your germs in the car. "okay, thanks for letting me know. you need me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"no, we're gonna make pizzas later. the girls have been dying to try it making it from scratch forever, so i'll take them to the store once i get them."

"...oh. okay..." you nod. "there's nothing else you need me to do then?"

"just to come home in one piece," suguru says. "i'm trying to take some stuff off your plate, (y/n). you've been exhausted, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"sugu, I'm fine," you dismiss him, only to turn your head into your elbow to muffle a cough. you forget to mute the call when you do so.

"what was that? are you okay?" the dark-haired man questions quickly. "you're not sick, are you?"

"no, no," you deny fast, voice slightly hoarse. you clear your throat quickly. "something was just- stuck in my throat. but I'm fine. i'm not sick."

suguru's quiet for a moment, and you chew on the inside of your lip while you wait for him to respond. you know it's impossible to fool suguru, especially when it comes to matters regarding you or the girls, but you can't handle him worrying over you right now. his concerns would only bring you back to reality, pulling you from this cycle of overworking you've fallen into. you need to keep going. You can't stop, and if suguru knows you're sick, he will make you stop.

"suguru? you there?" you finally say.

"oh yeah, i'm here," he responds rather quickly, and you internally curse yourself. "what time do you get off?"

"uhhh..." you think about it for a moment. it's 3:30 now, and technically you only have an hour and a half left, but since the girls will be picked up by Suguru, you realize you can finish your paperwork in the office. "today's kind of a long day... so I probably won't be home until... 7?"

"(Y/n)."

"i know, i know, but listen, i just have to finish up this paperwork. that's all."

"weren't you just gonna do it at home?"

"well, yeah, but since you're getting the girls, it's kinda easier for me to finish it here..." you start mumbling lowly, knowing that whatever explanation you give is not one that suguru will willingly accept.

"babe, please just come home at a normal time today. you can't keep doing this to yourself."

"i promise it won't be past 7. i swear. just let me get this done, and I'll be home."

suguru releases a hefty sigh, and you can picture him rubbing his thumb against his forehead in stress. "7 o'clock, (y/n). i mean it. if you're so much as five minutes late, i'm coming over there myself with rainbow dragon."

you chuckle softly. "i promise it won't get to that. i'll be fine, alright? i'll text you when I'm headed out."

"okay. I'll see you in a bit."

after your meetings had ended, your cold symptoms grew worse. your coughs were more frequent, a pile of tissues were stacked at your cubicle, and the glare of your computer screen felt as though it was burning a hole into your already aching head.

you feel miserable, and as luck would have it, your boss placed a new stack of papers onto your desk to finish filling out before you went home on his way out of the door.

you're alone in the office now, surrounded by excess assignments, and you can hardly breathe through your nose. you check the time, and its thirty to the time you told suguru you'd be home. you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

you're tired. your bones are aching. you want to be with the girls, you want to be home, you don't want to do this anymore. you're so burned out, it hurts, and you want to cry and collapse face-first onto your desk at the same time.

just then, your phone lights up with a message from suguru. you open it eagerly to be greeted with an image of the girls beaming up at the camera in the kitchen, hands covered in tomato sauce as they display them to the phone. beneath the photo, suguru types.

we miss you :(

you break, placing your phone down and shielding your face in your hands as the tears flow. god, you miss spending time with them. you're hardly home anymore because you've been so busy with work, and you're yearning to be held by your boyfriend, to hear the girls laugh, to sink into the bed combined with your deteriorating physical state makes you feel worse.

you miss having a life.

you don't know how long you spend crying in your empty office before your body shuts down on you completely. the energy you exerted shedding tears in addition to your long days at work send you into a deep sleep. before you know it, you're knocked out with your cheek pressed against one of your unfinished papers.

the second you failed to answer Suguru's text, he knew something was wrong. he calls, and calls, and calls after twenty minutes, but you don't answer. He wastes absolutely no time in calling up manami to look after the girls before trekking out of the house to you with rainbow dragon, just as he promised.

he's prepared to break a window when he sees the janitor leaving the building. he takes the opportunity to swoop in through the doors after grumbling something about his girlfriend being inside, before making his way up to you.

when he reaches your office, he finds you lying in the only occupied cubicle. His eyes go wide as he studies your slumped figure, walking slowly to where you're seated. he notes the tissues and cough drop wrappers crowding your space, then the tears that coat your lashes when he kneels down.

"jesus, (y/n)," he murmurs, swiftly getting to work and clearing your desk of all your trash. when he's done, he crouches by you again and runs a hand over your back. "baby, wake up for me. come on," he coaxes softly.

you stir, face tightening in discomfort. suguru sees the bags under your eyes and his frown deepens. Eventually, you wake with furrowed brows, adjusting your blurry eyes to the sight of suguru gazing down at you worriedly.

"sugu...?" you mumble weakly, only to be interrupted by a few coughs that rack your chest. suguru's heart aches.

"i knew it," he sighs, eyes hardening as his hand strokes over your warm forehead. "why don't you listen?"

"what are you doing here?" you grumble, picking your head up slowly. you're greeted with a retched reminder of your headache, and you wince, pressing your hand to your head.

"we had an agreement, remember?" he reminds you, and you slowly recall. you move to grab your phone and the time reads 7:15. "i wasn't joking."

"suguru..."

"stop," he immediately cuts you off. "look at you, (y/n). you've made yourself sick."

"it's just a- a cough," you murmur, rubbing your irritated eyes harshly.

"that's bullshit, baby," he tells you rather firmly. "i don't know why you're trying to hide this from me when i knew something like this would happen. we're going home."

"no, wait, Suguru, i didn't finish my paperwork yet."

"do you think I give two shits about your paperwork?"

his tone comes off rather harshly, and both of you notice. he blinks his eyes tensely and readjusts himself, attempting to reel in his anger. his anger for you, over your lack of care for your wellbeing, at your fucking boss for letting you work yourself like this.

"you've been killing yourself for weeks, (y/n). i won't let you anymore. this is the last straw."

"hold on," you urge. suguru looks down at you, befuddled. "i really can't just up and leave my work behind like this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"what's more important to you, (y/n)? being healthy or working yourself to death?" he proposes, almost pained by the latter. "if you cared about your well-being, you would have asked for an extension or at least had a conversation with your dick of a boss about doing this another time. anyone can see that you aren't feeling well, and someone who cares will tell you that enough is enough."

"don't make me do this, suguru," you whimper. suguru's face relaxes when he sees your eyes glossing over. "don't make me stop. I can't stop."

"baby," he curls his brows, holding your cheek in his hand as he kneels before you. "why are you doing this to yourself?"

"b-because, I have to..."

"no, you don't. i've been telling you this for years, you don't have to do this."

"but I need to make something of myself. i have to keep going. i can't just quit, because if I do, then what will any of this have meant? why have i been doing this?"

"you're breaking my heart, baby," suguru exhales. "this job doesn't define you. i see how hardworking, smart, and strong you are. i see the effort you put into everything you do. i see the commitment in your heart. i see it everywhere, all the time, and that is one of many reasons why i love you so much."

your lips wobble as you look into his hazel eyes as his voice and words melt you into his palm. you've been moving so fast all this time, you've been trying to prevent yourself from falling into suguru's warmth, which has always had the power to make you do anything he says.

"but I can't stand to watch you make yourself sick because you think there's more you need to do. this isn't good for you. you know it isn't."

you nod, red nose flaring as you sniff. "i know," you admit.

"so please, please take a break. i'm literally begging you. you need to come home and rest. i'll take care of everything else, just come home. lay down. come back to us. to me."

your shoulders jerk as a few tears drop from your eyes. "sugu, i can't do this anymore," you finally give in. "i don't even feel like myself. i just want to go home."

"then let's go baby, come on," he stands and takes you with him in his arms, pressing your body to his as he holds you. you sink into him, your exhaustion and your sickness finally crashing down over you. "i'm gonna fucking kill your boss," he murmurs into your hair.

you laugh weakly against him, closing your eyes. "later. just take me home, now. please."

"yes ma'am," he nods, kneeling down to pick you up into his arms. you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his chest.

"m'gonna get you sick," you mutter.

"we can be sick together," he chuckles. "the girls and I can make you some soup. they've been obsessed with cooking lately," he says, leaning over to shut off your monitor before carrying you off to the elevators.

"that picture of them you sent earlier made me so sad. I miss you guys so much."

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to upset you that much. i was only trying to guilt you a little into coming home early."

you slap his shoulder pathetically. "asshole."

"i know, i'm sorry," he kisses your head. "gonna get you all better in no time."

kento nanami: (low iron!)

you have always been a little anemic, and of course that never really posed as a terrible challenge for you until you ran out of iron supplements.

it is your responsibility undoubtedly to keep track of when you run out and when you need to restock, but recently, you've found yourself neglecting the habit.

you never did like taking iron pills, or any supplements for that matter. you feel as though they take too much out of your daily life, as though they're a burden to your existence, and the harder you think about it, the less inclined you are to keep track of it.

it's been about three weeks since you last took your iron, and while you would like to say that you have improved significantly, you would be lying.

perhaps the first few days of not taking your supplements was fine, but as time droned on, the symptoms kicked back in rather quickly. you are extremely tired all the time, you feel lighter on your feet as if you are going to pass out at any given moment, and your hands and feet are ridiculously cold though it is now the summertime, and the weather outside thoroughly contrasts your body temperature.

you're in denial about the changes, of course. you want to be able to feel fine without the crutch of your pills, but the reality of the situation is that you don't, and it's crushing you for some reason.

what's crushing you more is that you know how disappointed nanami will be to find out that you haven't been being responsible in stocking up on your supplements. he would normally keep track of when you run out in addition to you, but he's reeled it in a bit over the past few months because you wanted him to trust that you can handle taking care of something that you've managed all of your life, so he did.

and yet, here you are, trying to hide the symptoms of your iron deficiency that are only proving harder to veil. nanami has already asked you a few times if you are feeling okay over the past few weeks, therefore you know that he suspects exactly what is happening, but you brush him off each time.

"i'm good, honey," you'd tell him. "just had a long day. what about you? how are you feeling?"

you feel like shit lying to him, but you're afraid of being truthful for some reason. he would scold you, and you'd have to resort to the aid of your only weakness all over again.

god, why can't you just be normal?

you've even tried to ween off of the strict iron-sufficient diet that you've been on practically all your life because you feel like you have something to prove, especially in this world of jujutsu. how can you be a sorcerer with low iron? how can something so smell render you so weak? it's pathetic.

you don't want to think about it, in truth. you want it all to just go away. you want to be fine, to feel fine without eating certain things constantly or taking those damn pills, and you try to force yourself to, but it only grows worse the longer you hide it.

you stumble into your home after a long day of teaching and press your back to the door with a sigh. you know nanami won't be home for another forty or so minutes, so you kick your shoes off, go grab a water, and plop down on the couch.

you feel so tired. you pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, leaning back. this is stupid, you think. you're being stupid. just reorder the damn pills.

but something stubborn within you refuses. something within you that must prove you can push past this.

you decide to watch some tv to distract you as you wait for nanami to return home. he suggested cooking for you tonight, so you rest until you hear him walking through the door.

"hi honey," he greets. you turn to smile gently at him as he rounds the corner. your cheeks pinch with happiness, your current turmoil momentarily forgotten when you see your husband approach. you go to stand and walk into his open arms, just like you normally do when he comes home.

you put the remote to the side and shoot up. your mind is occupied only by nanami as you move toward him, but you see his face drop and your vision turns upside down, and suddenly, you're falling.

kento is quick to react, ducking down impressively to catch you in his arms before you can hit the ground. you collapse into him, head dizzy and breath suddenly gone.

"sweetheart?! (y/n) are you alright? are you awake?"

you groan, shifting in his strong arms as they cradle you securely. when your vision regains focus, you're staring up at nanami's worried face, your body resting over his lap. you blink rapidly before realizing what just happened.

"oh shit," you whisper.

"(y/n)," nanami says your name again, caressing your cheek sweetly. "are you here with me now?"

"y-yeah," you nod, moving to sit up and press your hand to his chest. "i'm alright."

"absolutely not," he stops you immediately, pressing against you to lay you back down on his lip. you frown, looking up at him. "don't even try sitting up like that right now."

"kento," you start, growing worried by the tense look on his face. "i'm okay, really. i just sat up too fast."

"i know," he affirms, his thumb still smoothing over your skin. "and care to tell me why that alone is making you pass out?"

you can't find the words to respond as you stare at him, likely as guiltily as you feel. he hums knowingly.

"right," he sighs. "(y/n), how long has it been since you've taken your iron?"

and there it is. the very question you had been dreading.

"...i'm not sure what you're-"

"don't. really, don't," he interjects firmly and you shiver, rather unfamiliar with this side of your doting partner. "i'm still trying to adjust to the fact that you haven't been truthful with me. the least you can do is tell me how long it's been."

your heart drops. "kento..."

"i'm not in the mood for stalling, sweetheart. go on. out with it."

the sternness of his voice hardly matches the way he is holding you and stroking your cheek, but nevertheless, you feel awful. you avert your gaze and shrink into yourself. "three weeks."

"three?" he repeats incredulously, and you nod in shame. "i knew it had been over a week, but three, (y/n)?"

"i know," you mutter.

"why? after you told me not to check after you, to trust that you'd take care of yourself," nanami questions. "this is why i tried to help you. i know it can be a hassle sometimes, and forgetting is one thing, but to deliberately stop taking them when you know how much i worry about it... when you know how important it is for you?"

you bite hard on your lip and look away, brows curling. nanami notices immediately and softens himself, leaning down closer to you.

"my love," he starts. "i don't mean to upset you, but this is very upsetting to me."

"i know. i know, i'm sorry..." you whimper.

"but not because it's about me, (y/n), because it's about you. and you've been hiding this from me, of all things. i don't understand."

"i just didn't wanna take them anymore, ken," you say quietly.

the blonde furrows his brows. "you didn't want to take them? have you not been taking them for years?"

"i have but that's the problem. i'm a sorcerer now, and..." you exhale. "the point of being a sorcerer is to not have anything weighing you down, and this weighs me down."

"if anything, (y/n), not taking the supplements weighs you down more."

"no, i just mean- all of it, the whole iron deficiency, i hate it," you confess. "i'm tired of relying on something to be strong. i'm tired of being tied down to this. i wanted to see if i could overcome it, but i can't. i'll always have this problem, and it sucks, ken," you ramble. "if i could go without taking these pills and still do my job like i always have, then just maybe.... maybe i could be better. and i could prove that i... i don't need those stupid pills, or the extra greens, or the- whatever. just all of it."

nanami looks down at you rather sadly. "i had no idea you felt this way."

"i haven't always felt this way. it's just lately, i don't know, i feel pressured to go beyond."

"darling, your iron-deficiency doesn't make you any less talented than other sorcerers."

"i know. i mean, i should know, but i can't help but feel that way."

nanami presses his lips together, smoothing a knuckle over your cheekbone. "i'm sorry you feel like this."

"it's not your fault, ken. and i shouldn't have kept this from you, i know. i'm sorry. i just felt humiliated by it."

"there's nothing for you to be humiliated by," he reassures you. "your deficiency is no different from any of us having to feed ourselves or drink water in between missions to keep ourselves alive. it's a necessity, and though we are sorcerers, we live off of necessities to keep ourselves physically and mentally able to work. you have a responsibility to yourself. just like the rest of us. just because your iron's a little lower doesn't mean anything about who you are as a sorcerer."

"...i never thought of it like that. i've just been thinking of it as a burden."

"it's only a burden if you view it that way. you are a grade one sorcerer who i have watched climb the ranks effortlessly since we were in high school, all the while with an iron deficiency that you have always taken supplements for. that never stopped you," he says. "the problem comes in when you don't keep up with yourself and take care of those needs. just like how i'd be unable to work if i decided to skip my last few meals and drink less water."

"that makes sense," you mumble, capturing his soft brown eyes with yours.

"good," he nods. "(y/n) you can't neglect your needs like this."

"i know."

"i'm being serious. i'll start checking behind you again if i find out that you're not doing what you need to do to take care of your body."

"i know, ken, i'm sorry, i-" you stop yourself and shake your head. "i just let my insecurities get the best of me."

"then, let me handle taking care of your insecurities. you handle taking your supplements. do we have an agreement?"

you nod slowly. "yeah. we do. i'm sorry for lying again, ken."

"please don't do it again," he sighs, ducking to kiss your forehead. "but i know you wouldn't lie to me about anything else, and that you hiding this was solely out of fear."

you slowly move to sit up, and this time, kento helps you very gradually. he guides you back to sit on the couch and cups your face gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "i'll go order some more iron and then get started on dinner. alright?"

you hum with a soft smile. "alright. i love you, ken."

he returns your loving smile. "i love you more, sweetheart."

choso kamo: (broken finger!)

it had fully been an accident.

you should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and at the same time, so should have panda.

it really was an honest mistake. you were standing in the doorway as everyone left the classroom, your fingers clutched around the frame as everyone filed out. you were asking around if anyone had seen your boyfriend, and yuta mentioned that he saw him with yuji earlier that day.

you thanked him, and just as you were about to pull your hand away, panda, who was the last out of the room, slammed the door shut behind him thinking you had already moved out of the way.

but you hadn't.

the door flew into your index and middle fingers and you screamed bloody murder. the cursed corpse as well as his classmates whipped their heads around, and to panda's horror, you were knocking your forehead against the wall with tears in your eyes as your fingers trembled in the doorframe.

"(Y/N), HOLY SHIT I'M SO SORRY!"

you hadn't expected panda to actually break one of your fingers, but you give the freak credit for his unnatural strength. you later find out that yuji and choso had gone out to grab food for you when you see a text from your boyfriend pop up asking what flavor ramen you want the second you learn that shoko will not be available until late tonight.

for the time being, you're given a finger splint and pain medicine as though you aren't freaking surrounded by jujutsu sorcery.

and god, did it hurt! like, really, really hurt. your fingers are throbbing, and the one that isn't broken is bruised and stained with some blood. you wish you could be angrier at panda, but his groveling before your feet on his knees eases your frustration a bit. after all, it hadn't been on purpose.

you're sent home and you are given no choice but to wait until choso returns, and you're... nervous. choso never handles the ailment of his loved ones very well. his spiritual and physical connection to his brothers wellbeings' often causes him to lose his mind every time yuji gets accidentally punched in the face during training, and when it comes to you? well, choso is just the same if not somehow worse.

you remember one time you got a papercut and winced when your finger made contact with soap. choso was quick to your side, grasping your wrist and looking over your hand as though it had been severed off.

one thing you have come to know in your relationship with the brunette is that he would (and has) killed someone for the sake of the people closest to him. he does not mess around when it comes to his family, and he certainly doesn't mess around when it comes to you.

and while you think he can be a bit excessive with making sure you're alright when it's hardly necessary, it's first and foremost endearing, and it only makes you realize that he will go ballistic the second he finds out that someone broke your finger.

he doesn't naively think that you can never go unharmed, though he would be incredibly content with the notion if it were plausible. he's familiar with scars, wounds, fights, and battles, and he knows you're in the very center of it just as much as he and his brother are. but still, he hates it when you're hurt. he wants to protect you as best as he can, or to at least prevent you from suffering any more than a sorcerer already has to suffer. he only wants you to be safe.

so to prevent him from having a heart attack, you decide it's better if he doesn't know about the incident. when you answer his texts before heading home, you mention nothing about your poor finger in hopes of him not finding out at least until after you're healed.

that plan of yours, however, fails when choso comes barging through the door three hours earlier than you expected him to return. your eyes go wide from where you sit on the couch, and you have no time to even go to hide your fingers behind your back when choso marches up to you, agitated.

"uh-" you're cut off when he grabs your arm gently and lifts it into the air, your taped crooked finger showcasing itself to him. you press your lips together at how poorly the plan to conceal this from him has failed. "cho-"

"were you gonna tell me about this?" his violet eyes fly to yours in a fury, and you're almost stunned by how aggravated he looks. his voice is calm, low, but his face is wrecked with concern and almost betrayal.

"...i was, but i wanted to wait because i didn't want you to freak out..." you say slowly, watching him softly. "like you are now..?"

"that's not fair, (y/n)," he frowns and you furrow your brows. "that's not fair at all."

"woah, hold on... are you mad at me?"

"i don't know," he answers you honestly, looking between your face and your trembling hand. "i'm... upset."

"who told you about my fingers, love?"

"yuji got a text from yuta," he tells you, moving to sit down on the space beside you with your hand still cradled in his. "he said that panda was begging me not to kill him, and this was after i had talked to you."

"oh..." you sigh. "okay, yeah, i can see how that looks."

"why didn't you tell me you got hurt? and pretty badly too? where's ieiri?"

"she won't be back on campus for another hour," you explain. "i didn't want you to worry, cho, i figured i'd just tell you after it was better, but..."

"why would you try to hide something from me?" he asks you, suddenly sounding hurt. it's clear on his face that he doesn't understand why you would conceal something as important as your health from him, whether it was small or not. you tell each other everything, and that shouldn't have stopped now of all times because you don't want him to worry.

"i didn't know you'd get so upset, cho, honestly," you tell him. "i-" you stop when a sharp pain shoots through your fingers and you gasp. choso's face drops and he gently sets your hand down to his lap, panicked.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes. "shit, you must be in a lot of pain."

"it's nothing i haven't experienced before," you try to reassure him, giving him a tight smile.

"why does that matter?" choso drags his brows together. "pain is pain. i don't like when you feel any of it."

you melt. "i know. i know you don't, i don't like when you feel any of it either."

"so don't... keep stuff like this from me, (y/n)," he says sternly. "please, i need to know. i don't have the same connection to you that i have with my blood brothers, but i'm still connected to you all the same. when you hurt, i hurt."

"i get it cho, i'm sorry," you nod bashfully. "i wasn't trying to make you mad. i just don't like it when you're stressed out."

"i'm always stressed out," he says flatly, and you raise your brows with a halfhearted smile.

"yeah, i know. so why stress you even more?"

"i'd rather be stressed about you if i'm stressing about anything," he says, looking over your face as the hardness in his gaze washes away. "you know you're everything to me."

"i know, baby," you push out your bottom lip, pressing your free hand to the side of his cheek and leaning in to kiss him. his ears burn when you pull away, and he sighs heavily.

"don't offend me by trying to hide stuff like this. it won't work."

"i'm sorryyyy," you giggle and choso grumbles incoherently under his breath.

his gaze goes back to your fingers and his brows curl. "how the hell do you slam a door on someone's hand?" he hisses.

"it was an accident, cho, he didn't mean it."

"i know, and i shouldn't really be angry at him but i can't help but be irritated because you're hurt..." his fingers graze the tape. "how bad does it hurt?"

"cho, it'll be okay."

"that wasn't my question."

you roll your eyes at his attitude with a soft smile. "it hurts as much as a broken finger would."

"right. sorry," he murmurs.

"you're okay, love, you don't need to apologize."

"i still wish i- nevermind," he refrains himself from discussing how he wanted to be there to protect you from such an unpredictable occurence. "is there anything i can do to help you feel better while we wait? do you need anything?"

"ummm," you try to think. "actually, could you grab a new pack of ice from the freezer? and... the snacks you got me earlier."

the brunette's face brightens slightly with the thought that he can do something to help ease your pain as you wait for shoko to return to the school.

he nods in determination, carefully sliding your hand into your lap and kissing your cheek before hopping up to run to the kitchen. he returns with the items you requested, placing the snacks down beside him and lifting the bag of ice over your hand.

"like this?" he eases the bag down and you wince, nodding.

"mhm. yeah," you strain out. choso watches your face sadly, hating the fact that you're hurting.

"i'm sorry for getting upset," he mumbles. you turn to look at him curiously. "i just love you a lot."

"i love you more, cho," you smile gently, leaning your head against his shoulder. he sighs, resting his chin atop your head as he ices your hand. "and don't worry, i get it. i won't try to hide injuries from you anymore."

"i really hope so."

"now can you pass me those chips please?"

toji fushiguro: (knife cut!)

toji is going to absolutely kill you, and you are dreading the moment he does.

he has always told you not to touch his weapons. even if you see any of them lying around his place because he never bothers to clean up in between jobs. his one rule when you're over is to leave them alone and to let him handle them when he gets back. he doesn't care how much you protest, he doesn't care that you want to help him pick up after himself.

no touching. that is all he asks of you.

and of course... one afternoon when he's out sorting out some finances with shiu and one of his knives is glaring at you from where it lay on the kitchen table, you can't help yourself.

you don't really think anything is going to happen. after all, you're not a baby, nor are you an idiot. you know how to handle a freaking knife and you know where to put it, and yet, somehow, you allow your arrogance with the task to distract you. you're not handling it as carefully as you should be, and the second you hear the keys jingling outside the front door, you panic.

the blade, naturally, fumbles in your grasp, and swipes through the air, over your palm, and to the carpet. you jump, stepping away as quickly as it falls. you feel a sting in your hand and look down to see the fresh gash stretching over your skin. you gape as blood slowly simmers from the wound, befuddled as to how something like this even happened so quickly.

you have no time to clean it when you hear the key inside the lock. you hurriedly pick up the knife with your unwounded hand, place it back on the table where you first saw it, rip a napkin from said table to press to your bleeding palm, and clench it into a fist just as the door opens.

toji immediately greets you with a raised brow, jade eyes eying you oddly as he steps in. "the hell are you gettin' into?" he asks, confused by the way you are standing against the wall when he enters.

you're quick to move into his space to distract him from the vision of his knife and from looking any further downward from your face. you lean up on your tiptoes, normal hand on his forearm as you kiss his scarred lips. "what do you mean?"

"why were you just standing there like that?"

"can't I wait by the door for you to come back?" you bat your eyelashes, and toji grunts, gazing down at you with lidded eyes as his hand comes around the small of your back. "i'm just happy to see you."

"you take a pill or somethin', doll?"

you glare at him. "now why would you ask me that?"

"you're just acting a little too nice, that's all."

you scoff. "i don't know what you're talking about, i'm literally always happy to see you."

"yeah, but i was gone for thirty minutes and you never make a show of it like this."

"why are you making it sound like i don't show you love? you're the one who's mean all the time," you retort sassily.

a smirk captures toji's lips as he ducks down to kiss you again. "that's more like it," he murmurs against you. "still ain't answer my question though."

"i literally did. i told you i was waiting for you."

"sure," he says, unconvinced. his eyes drag down your body and momentarily go to your fist when you swiftly wrap both arms around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips into him once more.

his brows narrow and as you kiss him, and you can feel the blood on your hand seeping through your napkin. you curse internally, lowering your hand back down behind him as he pulls away.

"not that i'm against this," toji starts, voice dangerously low against your mouth. "but it feels like you're tryin' to distract me from something."

"why would i be doing that?" you ask gently, looking up into his piercing eyes. he hums, dragging himself away from you. he grabs your chin softly and tilts your head left and right, looking over your face. "what are you doing?" you ask.

"lookin' for whatever you're hiding."

"i'm not hiding anything, toji."

"uh huh."

shit. it's never a good sign when toji doesn't even try to pretend to believe anything you're saying, and the way he's looking over your face let's you know that he at least suspects you've done something to yourself that he should know about.

you keep your fist to his back as he looks over the rest of your body with a rather relaxed expression, which only means that he doesn't suspect you touching any of his weapons. yet.

you have to keep his attention away from the knife on the table so that he doesn't figure it out.

"can you stop messing around already? i wanna go take a shower," you try to say, but toji doesn't listen.

"turn around f'me."

"huh?"

"huh?" he mimics you, looking at you unimpressed. "turn."

you suck your teeth. "i hate when you get like this."

"and i hate when you lie, now turn."

you grimance. you can't turn around with him looking down at your hand, and you're sure by now that the napkin you hold is coated red. your eye twitches in that moment when you feel a line of blood drip down your wrist.

god dammit. you're so dead.

nonetheless, you try to keep your palm facing inward as you slip it from his back and turn over your left shoulder, which connects to the uninjured hand. the second your back is to him, you bring your bloody hand in front of you.

"yeah, no," you hear toji gruffly say. your heart hammers in your throat and you know what's coming next. he moves around you to wrap his hand around your wrist and tug at it.

you cringe, allowing yourself to accept your fate when he pulls forward your balled up hand.

"open."

"can't we just-"

"open."

you sigh heavily, slowly peeling open your palm to reveal the red-stained napkin balled in it, the line of blood rushing down your inner arm, and the slice that stretches across your hand.

toji's eyes blow wide, and before he asks you anything, he throws his head over his shoulder to locate the knife that sits on the table. "are you fucking kidding me, (y/n)?" he growls, turning back to face you angrily.

"okay, let's not act like this is so crazy!" you immediately defend, throwing your other arm up. "you leave your shit lying around all the time!"

"and every single time, i tell you that i'll take care of it. what the fuck, do i have to go child-proofing the house now because of you?"

"if you would just be more mindful of how you leave your space, you wouldn't even have to worry about shit like this! you shouldn't even have knives lying around in the first place."

"i'm a grown man, (y/n), i know how to avoid cutting myself with the weapons i use daily."

"you're being a prick."

"oh baby, you must not know me because i'm about to be worse," he grunts, eyes heated with fury, and you frown.

"toji, come onnn, it was an accident."

"what do i always say about my weapons, (y/n)?"

"i just wanted to help you put it away, is that so crazy?"

"what. do i say. about my weapons."

you deflate slightly, uneased by the rate at which toji is growing angry with you. "...not to touch them."

"so why the fuck did you touch them?" he growls, picking up the napkin in your palm and tossing it over his shoulder. he looks over your wound and clenches his jaw. "fucking hell, (y/n)."

"look, i'm sorry."

"shut the hell up and come on."

despite his rage, he leads you to the bathoom with surprising care.

when you arrive, he flicks on the light with his free hand and swipes up a cloth from under the sink. he turns to you, pressing it down to your wound to stop the bleeding. once it seems like it's done, he puts the cloth down and turns on the faucet. "put your hand under," he orders, guiding it to the cool water nonetheless.

the water hits your open wound bitterly and you jump, watching the blood run through the drain as toji washes your arm as well.

"sit," he nods over to the bathtub, shutting off the faucet.

you oblige mutely, shuffling over and holding out your hand. you sit slowly on the ledge of the tub and watch as toji shuffles through his cupboards for a bottle of peroxide, some bandages, and ointment. you dread what is coming, for you know your hand is gonna sting like a bitch.

toji thuds over to sit hunched on the closed toilet lid, leaning over to grab your hand again. you stretch your fingers out and he sighs, shaking his head. "so fucking hard-headed," he murmurs.

you watch him screw open the bottle of liquid.

"go slowly," you plead.

"it's gonna hurt all the same, doll," he tells you, and you pout. "you should listen next time, then maybe you wouldn't have to go through this."

"shut the fuck up."

toji clicks his tongue, glancing at you momentarily before leaning down and holding the bottle over you, grasping your wrist loosely with your hand above his knee. "keep still."

the peroxide comes flooding out of the bottle and onto your hand, bubbling instantly over your gash. you whimper, tensing your body and scrunching your eyes at the sting.

"i know," toji mumbles, smoothing his thumb gently over your wrist. "you're alright."

your fingers dig into your thigh as it continues to burn. toji leans over to put down the bottle and continues to caress your arm, lowering your hand to his lap. he blows over your palm slightly as the peroxide dries, and you eventually open your eyes.

"not so bad," he tells you. he leans himself back to reach for a new cloth then pats it around the gash, drying your hand and your arm. he reaches back again for the tube of almost empty ointment he found and twists it open, squeezing it over your wound. "shit, hold on," he stops. he lets you lift your hand as he rushes to wash his own before coming to sit back down at hold yours on his leg again, now with bandages in hand.

you watch him gently as he works the bandage over you with such attentiveness, a dip in his brow proving his focus. you suddenly feel guilty for making him worry.

"i'm sorry," you finally say again, this time with more meaning.

toji's green eyes snap up at you amidst his wrapping. "yeah?"

"i really was just trying to help you. didn't mean to stress you out."

toji sighs, pausing his movements to look you in the eye. "you need to be more careful. i tell you not to touch my stuff because it's not your responsibility. obviously i know you can yourself, but some of my shit's really dangerous and i don't want you gettin' hurt," he gestures to your hand. "it could've been a lot worse, but still."

"if you don't want me touching your weapons, toji, you should probably clean them up more," you quirk a brow and he exhales loudly.

"i'm seeing that now, yeah," he says. "i'll be more careful if you are. don't need my doll getting a bunch of scars 'cause of me, now."

you smile softly. "yeah. i won't touch your stuff anymore, i promise."

"...how about instead i just... teach you how to handle 'em the right way?"

you perk up. "really?"

"i don't see why not. i'd rather you know how to use some of it than see you scrape yourself up because you don't know how to hold a knife."

"don't be a smartass."

toji smirks, continuing with his wrapping of your hand. "i mean it. i'll sit down with you sometime to show you."

"...how about after we're done here?"

"don't fucking push it."

ryomen sukuna: (fever!)

you wake up in a cold sweat, shivering.

you groan in displeasure, rolling over, slightly discombobulated. it can't be any later than 7 am, but you are boiling hot. you press your hand to your forehead and curse. you're sweating profusely and you feel incredibly lightheaded.

you don't even have the energy to get up, but you know that you need to take your temperature. you shudder, carefully shuffling out of bed and wincing as every brush against your skin feels like the stab of a thousand pins and needles.

you lethargically make your way to your bathroom, the cool air hitting your neck and sending you into a fit of shivers. you cling to yourself, teeth chattering, and reach into your cabinet for a thermometer. with half-open eyes, you pop it under your tongue and make your way back to your bed, bundling up in your blankets and curling into a ball.

it feels like hours before the beep resounds, and you slowly lift it from your mouth to read the little digital numbers.

102.4. perfect.

you shudder in pain, tossing the thermometer to the side and nestling your face in your pillows. you feel like absolute shit, but you can't bring yourself to do much else. you need medicine, water, a cool compress, but none of those things you have access to currently.

you close your eyes as your mind swarms, body throbbing and shuddering with chills though the last thing you need is to be cuddled under the covers. you think maybe it will go away if you get some rest. maybe you just need to relax, to take some time in bed. you'll let sukuna know when-

shit! sukuna.

there's no way in hell or on earth that sukuna will allow you to go untreated if you tell him, but god, you don't feel like letting him know. despite his likely haste to make sure you have everything you need, you can only imagine the snarky comments about your fragility, your strange body, your vulnerability that he''ll spout.

you don't want to hear it. you don't want to hear any of it, because you're sure that if you do, you'll start crying. you're already worn down, clearly, and the last thing you need on top of a fever is your boyfriend joking about your weak state.

you elect to stay in bed and tell sukuna you'll see him another time if he pesters you today.

which of course, he does.

a whirlwind of alarming dreams that you almost thought were hallucinations are disrupted by the persistent buzzing of your phone on your dress. you groan, reaching out a shaky hand to blindly grab the device and answer the call, pressing it to your ear with no knowledge of who you're speaking to.

"yes?" you croak.

"can't answer a telephone call the first time it rings?" sukuna's voice thunders through the mic, and you lift your brows.

"kuna?" you try to say his name normally, despite the constant chatter of your teeth.

"who the hell else would it be?"

"sorry... i was asleep."

"at this hour?"

"...what'dy'mean?"

"jesus, woman, it's 2 in the afternoon. why the hell are you still in bed?"

you reel momentarily at his words. 2 pm? it was just 7 in the morning! have you really been sleeping all this time?

"oh..." is all you can manage to say before a chill wracks your body again. you cringe, curling into yourself and holding the phone away from you.

"oh?" the king of curses repeats. "what is the matter with you?"

"n-nothing," you respond quickly. "i guess i was up late last night. i was c-completely knocked out..." you tremble.

"last night you told me you were going to sleep early because you were tired, you brat."

fuckkkk.

how could you have forgotten about that? you hadn't been feeling well last night, which is likely the reason why you feel so much worse today, so you turned in early. "i- couldn't fall asleep until later, though," you mumble.

"you are attempting to deceive me," sukuna grunts. "care to explain why?"

"m'not, kuna," you sigh halfheartedly.

"what exactly do you take me for?"

you're really not in the mood for this. you're aching at this point, and you can tell your body temperature has only risen. you're so weak. you can barely even process the fact that you're on the phone, and you can't handle sukuna's attitude. not if he's not going to help, which you automatically assume that he won't.

"i'm going back to bed," you say softly.

"what do you mean back to bed?!" sukuna fumes. "seriously, what the hell is the matter with you. you sound ill."

"i'm not i-ill."

"then why do you keep stumbling over your words, woman?" he questions, his voice mellowing out into a steady intensity. "what is it now? your monthly plague? whatever you people call allergies?"

this is exactly why you don't want him to know. he handles these things too crudely, as if it's a burden upon his existence. "y-you ask too many damn questions."

"i wouldn't have to if you answered them. now talk."

"i'm fine, sukuna. i'm just gonna go back to sleep."

"you hang up this phone, i'm at your door in two seconds."

"that's impossible."

"try me."

you know he's serious, but you don't have the energy. you can't stay on the phone with him any longer, trying to speak like nothing's wrong. it's cold. so cold, but you're so hot. you're probably drenched in a pool of your own sweat, but you can't feel it. you want to sleep. you just want him to let you sleep.

your vision grows dizzy as you stare ahead, brows arching in discomfort. you think you press the end call button, but you can still hear his voice picking up in urgency... is he shouting? are you even on the phone anymore? you aren't sure.

your vision suddenly drifts into inky blackness as the phone rests beside you on your pillow. the last thing you are aware of before you slip into unconsciousness again is banging at your front door.

sukuna bursts into your apartment mere minutes after you stopped answering him on the phone. he looks about ready to kill, crimson eyes wide and pupils shrunken as he breathes heavily, looking all over your apartment.

he's stomping to your room and throwing the door open when he sees you laying in the bed. "(y/n)!" he barks, searching for some response from you, but all he recieves or nonsensical murmurs.

he moves quickly to the side of your bed and grabs at your shoulder, turning you over to find your sheets drenched and your face tight with discomfort. he falters, heart jerking at the sight. "...the fuck?"

he presses a hand to your sweat-drenched face and furrows his brows in concern. you're hot. too hot for the temperature of a human being, and you're sweating like crazy, mumbling things under your breath in your sleep he can't even hear.

"the fuck did you do?" he grumbles, starting to internally panic. he scrambles to remember what this could be. he knows of plague, of pestilence, so maybe you're suffering some form of that?

hell, he can't tell. not from a glance. he's not even sure if he knows how to help you. you're entirely too hot for him to brush this off like it's nothing, and you passed out in the middle of speaking to him.

he looks over and sees the thermometer on your sheets and leans over to pick it up. the screen reads a high number, which he assumes is the temperature of your body. curious himself, he prods open your jaw and tucks it into your mouth, pressing the button the way you had shown him when you had the flu to reset the time.

"come the fuck on," he growls as seconds tick by before it beeps, and he pulls it from your lips to read 104.7.

he doesn't know how far it is from your usual temp, but he knows it's high. too high.

he's quick to dial uraume for some more information, and the second he hears that you need immediate medical help, he's picking you up and making a run for it without even thinking that uraume can likely help you.

when you wake, you're blinded by nauseating lights blaring down overhead. "ugh," you groan, feeling light and disoriented. you turn your head to the side and blink, to find sukuna's face staring directly at you rather harshly.

you jump slightly, startled. "what-?" you start, scrunching your eyes to adjust to the sight before you. "sukuna? what are you..." you trail off when you realize that you aren't in your house, nor are you at sukuna's estate. instead, you're in a hospital bed hooked up to a series of fluids.

your eyes go wide as you sit up suddenly, only to be hit with a sudden dizzy spell that sends you leaning back into the bed.

"don't move," he orders, and you turn to him in confusion. never would you have expected to see the day that sukuna sits in a chair beside you in a hospital.

"why are we... what happened?"

"apparently you had a high fever," he answers harshly, fist-propping his chin up over his leg. "too high for you to be seen in my care, and too high for you to be lying in bed as though nothing was wrong."

your heart sinks. "how high?"

"when we got here, tipping past 105."

"...are you serious?"

"i had to come bust down your door to make sure you were alive. i put you on an empty roller downstairs because these fucking dumbass doctors can't see me and i had to get their attention so they could notice you. yes, i am serious."

he sounds pissed. and you hardly want to think of what he means by ‘getting their attention.’

"what do you have to say for yourself? for daring to lie to me? for pretending like you weren't on the brink of a much worse fate?"

"...i..."

"you're so lucky you're unwell, girl, because you don't even want to imagine the things i would do to you as punishment for putting yourself in such a ridiculous situation," he growls. "all you had to do was tell me and i would have taken care of it before it got worse."

you blink, almost dumbfounded. you still aren't all there, but you can tell that your fever has gone down significantly. you're no longer sweating and fewer chills wrack your body. "...huh?"

"did that fucking fever scramble your brain or what?" he fumes, eyeing you sharply. "you should have told me."

you part your lips slightly as you look at him. "honestly, sukuna, i didn't think you'd really... i don't know-"

"care?"

"no, not care. i just didn't think you'd handle it well. i didn't even handle it well myself."

"you believe me to be incapable of tending to sickness?"

"no, i just thought you'd like... not take it seriously."

sukuna's eyes darken, and you realize that you may have said the wrong thing. "in what reality would i fail to take any threat to your health seriously, whether you are frail or not?"

"see, that's what i mean. you always have to slip in something about me being frail."

"because you are. as a member of your species. look at where you lay currently," sukuna grimaces. "that is not an insult to you, it's an observation. it's an insult, however, to everyone else who isn't you."

you relax slightly. "then you were actually worried?"

sukuna scoffs. "why the hell do you think i'm sitting in a human hospital with your sick ass right now? i thought we were past you believing i do not concern myself over you."

you suddenly feel foolish, having forced yourself to suffer in your isolation and simultaneously made sukuna, of all people, worry over you.

"hm. feeling foolish, are you?" he says, reading your mind.

"shut up,," you whine, only to clutch your stomach suddenly with a groan. sukuna sighs as he gently eases your head back onto the pillow.

"i told you not to exert yourself. you give me a headache."

"kuna," you mumble.

"what?"

"can you... take me home?"

sukuna raises a brow. "home?"

"to your place," you clarify. "i don't wanna be here. i just want to be with you. want you to hold me."

"you're such a needy thing," he exhales, toying with a strand of your hair as he leans over and gazes gently at you. "you have medications you need to take."

"then bring them with."

"and if you get sick again? you've only been here ten hours."

"ten?!" you exclaim.

"you were very ill, (y/n)."

you groan. "ten is long enough. i hate hospitals. take me home. i feel better anyway, and if i get worse, i’ll just go to uraume."

sukuna sighs, standing slowly. "after i get these tubes out of you without further damaging you, i will take you home," he says, looking over the IVs that you're hooked up to.

you close your eyes tiredly and nod in acceptance. "okay," you murmur.

he grunts. "let me find some damn instructions.”

"kuna," your hand weakly reaches out to catch his wrist and he stops, turning to look down at you.

"what is it?"

you open your eyes to look up at him fondly, exhaustion welling in your gaze. "thank you."

the king of curses clenches his jaw. he smoothes ahead over your now warm forehead and leans over you. "don't do some shit like this again."

[fortunately-bi]

Uh oh

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

It never gets any fucking easier does it

[bi-writes]

who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

[whateveriwant]

I just read your pregnant wife with 141 but that got me thinking. What about horny pregnant wife with 141

Feel free to ignore this if you feel uncomfortable writing it 

-🍱 (if it’s not taken)

I haven't written smut in ages so forgive me if I'm a little rusty. 18+ only pls and thx (vaginal sex, cunnilingus)

Soap

Hooo boy! Alrighty, here we go

So for starters, that man is PENT UP. Like seriously, he's so backed up, he thinks he can feel it all the way to his esophagus

Since you first got pregnant, it's been nothing but morning sickness, aches and pains, and a total and utter lack of desire on your part

Trust him, he's tried taking care of himself in the meantime, but it's never really gotten the job done since it wasn't with you

But once you enter your second trimester and the desire has come back, it takes everything in him not to ravage you the moment you give him the green light

Why? Well, truth be told, he's scared about potentially hurting you or the baby

You know how he can get in the sack. What if he dents the wee bairn’s poor head? He's knocking (more like pounding) right on the little one’s door after all

You have to assure him that he's not going to hurt you or the baby (and please, never refer to your cervix as a door again)

So he'll start slow and gentle at first, not wanting to be too harsh, but it won't take much to get him back to fucking you hard and rough like you're used to

He's got your knees up by your chest (or, as close as they can get) while he’s drilling into you from above, snarling like an animal

When he finally finishes, it's loudddd, slamming the headboard against the wall, and he pushes his hips as far forward as they'll go while he empties four months worth of cum inside you

Ghost

I'm so sorry to have to be the one to inform you, but you're not getting that man's cock while you're pregnant

It's not because he's overly rough when you make love normally; it's just that he's not willing to take any chances when you're in such a delicate state

However, the man is inherently a giver, so with just enough whining and begging and pleading from you, he'll oblige you to some degree

He'll stick mostly to his fingers or his mouth, maybe a toy or two if you're really needy, but he's generally going to rely solely on his own skill to get you where you want to be

He'll have you recline against a mountain of pillows while he settles himself between your legs, his arms looping around your hips to hold you still for him while he works

But he doesn't just dive right in, oh no siree. The man loves to tease you – kissing your thighs, the inside of your knee, the bottom of your belly first

He'll turn you into a pathetic little thing squirming desperately for his touch, before finally granting you mercy by giving you his tongue

He'll make you cum so hard with just his mouth alone that you'll temporarily lose all thought of that gorgeous dick of his

But afterwards, if you want to return the favor, you certainly won't hear him complaining about it

Oh but trust that the moment the doctor gives the okay after you’ve given birth, he's gonna be all over you, making sure you walk funny the next morning (and the following week after that)

Gaz

Like the other two, Gaz is concerned with potentially putting you and the baby in a dangerous position

But the man is a sucker for your puppy dog eyes, so it doesn't take much convincing to get him to take you to bed

But he still wants to be safe about it, so he researches the best positions for couples to have sex while pregnant

That's how you find yourself in his lap, naked back to his chest, as he sits in one of the chairs he dragged in from the dining room

You're bouncing on his dick, hands braced on his thighs, ass smacking off the hard plane of his lower stomach as you lift up and down

His hands on your hips are more of a placeholder than a guide as he lets you set the pace, just sitting back while you take what you need from him

It doesn't even matter if he cums or not, that's honestly the farthest thing from his mind. All he cares about is making sure you're satisfied in the end

Need him to snake his hand forward, tracing the curve of your belly down, until he's circling your clit in fast, tight motions? Gladly, love.

Your thighs may burn and your eyes may water, but there's something about this position that makes him hit so deep that it leaves you gasping for more

Ultimately, your orgasm will trigger his own (nothing gets him there faster than the sound of you cumming), and afterwards he'll help you into the bath where he'll clean and massage your aching muscles better

Price

Unlike the other three men, Price is eager to fuck you the moment you show even the smallest inkling of want

What's that? His poor baby needs him to fuck her right now? Say no more, sweetheart. Hubby's come to the rescue

That man is dicking you down anytime, anywhere he can

Just got done shopping? He'll find a deserted road to pull over on. Just stepped into the shower? Might as well kills two birds with one stone

Really, it becomes a challenge to find where in your house he hasn't had you in these last few months. The kitchen, the garage, the back porch. You name it, he's done it (multiple times, in fact)

But his favorite – oh boy, his favorite without a shadow of a doubt – is when he takes you in front of your bedroom’s full length mirror

He'll hold you up from behind, standing you both on your feet, and just watch as he fucks you nice and slow

Seeing it in profile is fun when he wants to watch his dick slide in and out of you, but he's especially fond of having you directly face the mirror

There's just something about getting to watch you – that pretty face, those juicy tits, that fucking delectable rounded belly – that makes him blow his load faster than a damn rocket launch

With the number of times he's had you like this, you swear, that man of yours is trying to knock you up a second time (But shhhh. Quiet now. Don't go giving him any bright ideas, sweetheart.)

[missdynamighttt]

all i can think about is mean, pro hero! katsuki giving me backshots, man ☹️

you and katsuki were constantly at each other's throats, whether it was at hero work or at social gatherings. you couldn't stand each other, always arguing and sniping at one another.

but one night, after a few drinks at a work thing, some boring event. something happened. maybe it was just all the tension building up and you simply didn't notice because... you somehow ended up at his place, stripped naked, and honestly? it was mind-blowing.

"hey!" you pant desperately, whimpering from how firmly he grips on your hips. your hands grip onto his couch tightly as your knees hit the soft material. "loosen up a little, my hips are bleeding!"

katsuki's been on edge all day, his mind filled with images of you, wearing your tight fitted clothes that hugged your curves just right, and those high heels that make your legs look endless.

it didn't make it any better when you approached him too, too drunk to even remember where you live, getting you safe in his place and pushing aside your differences for now. maybe a little too much.

"what'cha talking about? i'm not gripping you hard enough," katsuki grins almost devilishly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continues to slam into you from behind, admiring the warm red marks on your hips.

the alcohol earlier long left his system and yours. all he's drunk on now is the feeling of you clenching down on him, whimpering from beneath him. his hands hold onto your love handles as he pulls you into him, your sweet moans echoing in his ears.

he leans in close, breathing heavily, his voice low and rough. "besides.. you like it when i ram into you like this, don't cha?"

"god, you're insufferable," you huff out, frustration and a hint of vulnerability in your moans. "you're such a... fucking asshole."

katsuki grins at your reaction, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin. its not enough for him, the pleasure hes giving you. seeing as you're still being a bitch. more can't hurt, right?

a hand reaches forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back, a sick twisted feeling in him as he watches you struggle to take him.

"watch it, woman." he grunts, his balls twitching as it slams against your pillowy folds. it felt like heaven as he slams his cock hard into your warm cunny, after putting up with your ass for so, so long.

"you knew what you were doing when you decided to show up in that tight little dress. you've been waiting for this, haven't you?"

your yelp of surprise quickly turns into a gasp of pleasure as he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it back firmly. you try pouting at him but can't keep the moan fully suppressed from your lips.

"not my fault you..." you manage to huff out, your voice filled with irritation and undeniable craving. "get turned on like a pathetic little teenager..."

katsuki laughs at your comment, his laughter quickly turning into a low, growl as he continues to thrust into you. he knows you're taunting him, trying to rile him up. and it's working.

"oh yeah? what makes you think i'm the pathetic one here, hah?" he pauses, landing a hard smack on your ass, earning another yelp from you before holding onto your hips again.

"you're the one on all fours here, getting fucked by me like a dog because you're too needy to wait til we got to bed..."

"don't act like you're any better," you retort, voice shaky with pleasure. "hypocrite.."

he scoffs, giving your hair another firm tug. "i can't help it if you looked that good, brat... besides, you love how much i want you. you love knowing how much i fuckin' need you. don't try to deny it..."

katsuki gives you another smack, this time a little harder. you whimper weakly, face flush with embarrassment as he continues his relentless assault on your cunt.

"you're... hah," you mewl out, voice trembling. "delusional... obsessed."

katsuki laughs again, the sound rough and low in his throat. "yeah, i am. its a real problem. can't help it if you're the only woman that gets me going like this. but you love it."

you muffle your moans by covering your mouth with your hand, your attempts to suppress your growing ecstasy proving very ineffective.

"you're just.. a horny jerk.." you gasp between breaths, the words coming out in a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "all you are to me is an...easy lay."

katsuki grunts, feeling your words hit him like a punch in the gut. he knows you're trying to push his buttons, to get him to snap.

and it was working.

he tugs roughly on your hair, his eyes narrowing as he glares down at you.

"oh, you think i'm just an easy lay, huh? someone you can use whenever you need to, but then you can toss me aside when you're done? is that what you think i am?"

you can barely speak as he goes rougher on you, your words broken up by moans and gasps of pleasure as his cock bullies your cervix.

your eyes are closed, head thrown back, and all you can get out is a desperate repetition of "no," and "sorry," as you mewled with pleasure and submission.

katsuki loosens his grip on your hair a bit, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as you moan from underneath him.

he loves the way your voice trembles when you apologize, how you get all sweet and vulnerable when he's got you like this.

it's like you're a totally different person when you're not fighting and arguing, and he can't get enough of it.

"yeah? you sorry, huh?" he lands another hard smack on your ass again, another whimper rolling off of your tongue. "you sorry for callin' me names, sayin' things to piss me off?"

"yes, yeah, 'm...sorry... bakugo," you repeat through gasps of pleasure, almost pleading and surrendering to him. "...'m sorry..."

katsuki lets out a low growl, feeling something in his chest tighten at the sound of his name on your lips, your voice soft and vulnerable.

he's not used to seeing you be submissive, his grip on your hips tightening again. what he's used to is you calling him by his name, always in a tone full of sarcasm and irritation. but hearing his name from you, spoken like that...

it's driving him absolutely feral.

"tch. sorry enough to let me do whatever i want to you?" he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, massaging your doughy ass.

you nod, head bobbing up and down feverishly, your face hot from embarrassment. your chest rises and falls as you pant, feeling desperate and needy, the sounds of your rapid breaths echoing in the room.

"yeah? whatever i want?"

"shit— yeah.. anything.. just get on with it, dammit.."

katsuki's eyes narrow as he stares down at you, a sly grin spreading across his face. he knows exactly what he wants, and he can already tell it's going to catch you off guard.

"anything, huh? lean back a little f'me."

you bite down on your lip, contemplating what his next move might be before you gingerly get up on your knees, leaning back against him. you feels his chest pressed firmly against your back, the heat from his skin sinking through you.

katsuki grins, his hand letting go of your hair, moving down to your hips, using his grip to arch you back against him. his other hand grips your chin, angling your head back so he can look you in the eye. he stares down at you for a moment, his gaze intense, his face so close to yours.

then, without warning, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing down on yours.

you gasp into the kiss, the sound muffled and lost in a tangle of messy, desperate need. you struggle to keep up with the kiss, overpowered by the relentless pace he sets.

as rough as he was, it felt vulnerable. strangely sweet. your lips part and a soft moan escapes, your body shivering and trembling against his.

his tongue pushes into your mouth as he kisses you deeply, desperately, his hands roaming over your body like he can't get enough of you.

he's wanted this for so long, but he never imagined it would feel this good.

katsuki's kisses become more feverish, his hands moving down to your hips, guiding you against him as his body presses against you from behind.

he breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, pushing you down against the couch, your face pressed into the cushions. his hand finds your scalp again, tugging on your hair again as he watches his cock sink deeper into your pussy.

"shit... was that what you were expecting?"

you cry out, the sound muffled by the couch. your body shudders and writhes, your hands clenching into tight fists as you shakes your head, lost in the overwhelming sensation.

"n-no.."

"figured.. but i'm willing to bet you liked it anyway."

you scoff, trying to feign annoyance or irritation, but there's no mistaking the flush on your cheeks or the way your body trembled when he kissed you.

you can't deny the intense and silent yearning when he kissed you, the way it makes you crave his rough touch, the temptation to melt into his arms all too strong despite your resistance.

"oh, you can deny it all you fuckin' want, but your body is tellin' me something different," katsuki grins, watching your body betray your feigned annoyance."act like you hate me, i don't give a shit. but i know you love this."

you pant out weakly, voice trembling and quavering as you whimper. "you're so... damn... mean."

katsuki chuckles, his grip on your hips tightening further as he grinds against you.

"that's right. i'm the worst, aren't i? and yet here you are, drippin' wet on my dick, all because of me."

his rough treatment of you, the way he makes your body shiver and quiver, his dirty, filthy words egging you on, has you trembling and embarrassed, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure.

every muscle in your body tensed, your back arching against him as a cry escaped you. you were close. so, so close.

"bakugo, please... i.. i'm... gonna...." you moan out as you push your ass onto his abdomen, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you take everything he gives you.

katsuki's body shivers as you moans out his name, the sound sending a wave of electricity through him.

"tch, already?" he clicks his tongue at you, deliberately slowing down the pace. you let out a strangled whine, your body shaking in his grip. "c'mon, you better not get off now... i'm not done with you yet."

"bakugooo... i'm close... please..." you mewled, pleading and needy. "please, i need... i need... " you can't even finish the sentence, your mind consumed with the single-minded desire for him. and his dick.

"begging now, huh? what happened to all that attitude? did i fuck it out of ya that fast?"

"you fuckin' wish... shit... i don't care anymore... just make me feel good, please..."

your body trembles against him, shaking with need and desperation. you're pleading, begging him to give you what you need. you can't even form a coherent thought anymore, your mind fogged up raw, unrelenting need. the need for him.

"you really need it that badly?" katsuki coos almost condescendingly, loving how much you're falling apart beneath him. "you're shaking like a fuckin' leaf. this tight little pussy clenching down on me... you're pathetic."

"fuck, fuck, i'm sorry," your gasps and moans have evolved into a desperate whimpers and needy whines, your body shaking as tears stream down your face. "just need you.. need you so much, please.."

the pleasure overwhelms you, feeling like you're going to come apart at the seams. your body quivers uncontrollably against him, like a puppet whose strings are held by his every touch.

katsuki's mind is swimming, overwhelmed by the sight of you falling to pieces beneath him. he looks down at you, taking in her quivering, desperate state. he's never seen you so vulnerable, so needy for him. it's a sight he didn't know he needed to see.

he gently pulls you up from the couch, using his hand on your wrist. he leans over to you, his lips fanning over your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

"look at me, princess. let me kiss you again."

he calls you princess, not just because of your bratty and entitled demeanor, but because deep down, he wants to treat you like one.

he wants to pamper and spoil you, wrap you in luxurious silk sheets and never let you want for anything.

but admitting that was not easy for him.

so he covers it up, telling himself it's just your attitude that earned the nickname, not any weird, hidden desires.

your face is flushed, feeling embarrassed by his simple request and the intimacy of the moment. but the pleasure he's given you leaves your body and mind too fogged to object. with a breathless gasp, you turn to face him.

katsuki's eyes rake over your face, taking in all of you. for a moment, he looks at you with an expression you've never seen on his face before.

it's softer, gentler than his usual cocky grin or mean glare.

he leans in close, his face a few inches away from yours, his eyes fixated on your lips. slowly, he closes the distance between them, his mouth capturing yours in a surprisingly tender kiss.

as your lips met, it's like the world melts away. it's a feeling so unfamiliar to both of you, but at the same time, it feels so unbelievably right.

you gasp as he pulls away, the sudden absence of his touch leaving you with a pang of emptiness, your body still trembling and buzzing with need.

you want more. but you can't ask him that.

his eyes are fixed on your face, watching your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment as you meet his gaze. he can't help but chuckle, his usual cocky smirk back on his face.

"what, you gettin' all shy on me? after everything we've done tonight, this is what does it for you?"

"shut up..." you click your tongue, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it's quickly unraveling when he starts his relentless pace again.

your words are broken between gasps and moans as he goes harder, your body arching needily against him. "oh, fuck.. yes, bakugo... please, 'm.. gonna..."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me, princess?" he grins, landing another hard smack on your ass. "you gonna cum all over this dick?"

katsuki's breath hitches at your nod and whiny pleas, his body shuddering against you. he can feel how close you are, and he's not sure how much longer he can hold on himself.

"cum for me, princess. wanna feel you clenching down on me, c'mon..."

at his words, you completely shatter against him, your body trembling, vibrations sending down his body as you whimper and moan against him. your gummy walls clamp down on his cock, painting your insides a creamy white of your own.

katsuki watches you unravel from beneath him, clicking his tongue when he feels close. he pulls his cock out of you, stroking it feverishly.

"fuck," he groans, spurting his thick seed onto your back, digging his nails into your hips.

you huff, chest heaving with each breath as you look back at him, clear frustration and arousal on your face.

"why didn't you.. cum inside?" your voice is a breathless whisper, filled with both annoyance and a hint of pleading need.

his eyes widen a little, his face flush as he lets out a breathless chuckle. "did you want me to?"

he reaches down, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. it's such a contrast from the rough way he treated you earlier, like a completely different side of him.

you scoff and look away, trying to hide the truth behind a pout. even the act of looking away feels like a betrayal to what you truly wanted.

"hmph. why would i want something like that..."

katsuki grins at your defiant expression, loving the feign indifference. he reaches out, tilting your chin up so you're looking at him again.

"you can admit it, y'know. i won't make fun of you."

you pout, as if trying to act like the thought hadn't crossed your mind before. but your words betray your feigned disinterest, cheeks flushed.

"maybe i do. do it inside next time."

his smirk falters a little, showing that gentle look in his eyes again like he's surprised, but not displeased, at your implication.

"you want a next time, princess?"

"yeah... unless, this is a one-time thing?"

it's a question that betrays you, giving him a peak of what you realled wanted. you're trying to sound casual, but the subtle tremble of your voice nearly gives you away.

katsuki notices the tremor in your voice, the hint of vulnerability behind the cool facade. he can tell when you're putting up that tough exterior.

"you really think I'd be done with you after just one night?" he chuckles, his hand moving down to your, rubbing the hot red nails marks.

"oh," your cheeks flushed, embarassed by his words. but you could feel your heart beat hard against your chest as you realize what he meant. "so.. will there be a next time?"

katsuki grins down at you, his hand roaming over you body, still taking in the sight of you, flushed and breathless beneath him.

even if he didn't want to (but deep down, he did), he found it nearly impossible to deny you. it was as if you had some sort of power, a hold on him that made his usual attitude falter.

he was caught, wrapped around your finger, a puppet to your whims, unable to do anything but surrender to you.

and he wanted nothing else.

"oh, there will definitely be a next time, princess. i'm nowhere near done with you yet."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧