#oh? your back is split open and you’re bleeding all over? get OVER IT you’re a fictional character!

[honeybelleee]

for you i’d bleed | p.js

req ( anon & my bae @kpopiedictionary ) : down bad boyfriend jay fighting someone who talked bad about you in your absence + passionate sex but dom!y/n

pairings - jay x fem!reader

genre - established relationship, dom!y/n x sub downbad!jay, smut (MDNI), fluff

warnings - lower case intended, fighting, jay getting injured, mention of blood, heavy oral (m receiving), pwp, y/n getting objectified

1,3 ++ wc ! masterlist

jay had never imagined he’d be fighting to defend y/n from someone so close to him, but the bitter reality hit when his friend’s careless mouth spewed inappropriate, lewd remarks about y/n in her absence.

the argument flared quickly, blazing like a fire out of control. jay’s friend, wearing a smug, dismissive grin, shrugged off jay’s fury as if y/n were meaningless a joke.

"why are you getting so worked up man?" his friend sneered. "if she wasn’t your girl, i’d fuck that pussy real good. she’s got a body that—”

“don’t,” jay interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “don’t talk about her like that. you have no idea who she is, and you clearly don’t respect her.”

his friend scoffed, crossing his arms. “come on jay, it’s just a joke. lighten up. it’s not like she’d ever even find out i said anything.”

jay stepped closer, fury flashing in his eyes. “that’s not the point. if you think I’m going to let you talk about my girlfriend like that, you’re dead wrong.”

“oh, so now you’re gonna act all tough? over a few words? you used to be fun, bro,” his friend taunted, raising his eyebrows in mock amusement.

jay’s patience finally snapped. “a real friend wouldn’t disrespect the woman i love,” he said through gritted teeth, “and a real man wouldn’t need to put someone down like this to feel big.”

jay's fists clenched, his blood boiling at the blatant disrespect toward someone he cherished. he couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t just let it slide. his friend’s sick remarks and arrogant stance only spurred jay on until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

with a surge of anger, jay threw the first punch, connecting with his friend’s jaw. the impact left him stumbling, but he recovered, lashing back and landing a wild swing that split jay's lip. ignoring the pain, jay lunged forward, grabbing his friend by the collar and slamming him into the wall, “if I ever hear you talk about her again, i’ll fucking kill you. understood?”

the friend, suddenly realizing the depth of jay’s anger, muttered, “alright… fine. i’m sorry. i went too far.”

jay stormed off, his mind racing as he headed straight for y/n's place. as he reached her apartment, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorbell. his face was bruised and bloodied, and he didn't want to scare her. but the door swung open before he could change his mind, and there she was, looking concerned and beautiful in her silk robe.

"jay, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

he tried to smile, but the pain from his split lip made it more of a grimace. "just a little disagreement with a friend."

y/n's eyes widened as she took in his battered appearance. "oh baby, come in! we need to get you cleaned up."

jay followed her inside, feeling a mix of shame and desire. he knew he had overreacted, but the thought of that guy disrespecting y/n had made his blood boil.

in the bathroom, y/n gently guided him to the sink, her touch soft and soothing. she ran a damp cloth over his face, wiping away the blood and grime. her fingers were gentle as she dabbed at the cut above his eyebrow, her breath warm against his skin.

"does it hurt?" she asked, her voice low and concerned.

"not as much as my pride," jay replied, his voice hoarse with emotion.

y/n's eyes locked with his, and in that moment, something shifted between them. she could see the hurt and anger in his eyes, but also a raw, primal desire. her heart raced as she realized the effect she had on him.

"you fought for me," she whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of awe and arousal.

jay nodded, unable to speak as the emotions overwhelmed him. he had always been the protective type, but this was different. the thought of someone sexualizing y/n had sent him into a blind rage.

y/n's fingers trailed down his jaw, her touch electric as she caressed his bruised face.

"you're so beautiful when you're angry," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.

jay shivered at her touch, his body responding to her words. he had always been the dominant one in their relationship, but now, as she stood before him, her eyes burning with desire, he felt a surge of submission.

"y/n, i..." he began, but she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"shh," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "let me take care of you."

with that, she dropped to her knees before him, her hands sliding up his thighs, her touch sending shivers through his body. jay's breath caught in his throat as he felt her fingers brush against the bulge in his pants.

"i want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice throaty with desire.

"let me show you how much i appreciate what you did for me."

jay groaned as she unbuttoned his jeans, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. y/n's eyes widened at the sight of his thick, erect shaft, her lips parting in anticipation.

"you're so hard for me baby," she purred, her voice filled with satisfaction.

she leaned forward, her breath hot against the tip of his cock, and then she took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down his length. jay's eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure surged through his body. y/n's mouth was warm and wet, her tongue swirling around his sensitive head, driving him wild.

she sucked him with a passion he had never experienced before, her hands gripping his thighs as she took him deeper into her throat. jay's hands clenched into fists as he struggled to hold back his orgasm, wanting to prolong this moment of pure ecstasy.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. "your mouth feels so fucking good."

y/n moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. she pulled back, her lips glistening with his precum, and looked up at him with a wicked smile.

"i want you to fuck my face," she whispered, her eyes daring him to take control.

jay's heart pounded as he realized she was giving him permission to be rough, to take what he wanted. he placed his hands on her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and began to thrust gently at first, but soon the primal urge took over, and he was pounding into her mouth with abandon.

y/n's moans and gasps fueled his desire, her hands gripping his hips, urging him on. her tongue danced against his shaft, her lips tight around him, and he could feel her throat constricting around his cock as he plunged deeper.

"oh baby i'm gonna cum," he grunted, his body tensing as the orgasm built.

y/n's eyes flashed with excitement, and she pulled back, her hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. jay's body convulsed as he exploded, his cum shooting into her mouth, down her throat, and over her lips. she swallowed eagerly, sucking him dry, her eyes never leaving his.

as he caught his breath, y/n stood, her body flushed and her lips glistening with his release. she pressed herself against him, her breasts pressing into his chest, and kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of his cum.

"i love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "i love you too, ready for round two?”

jay will bleed for u if u like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj @who-tf-soddhi

[color-ns]

Hey… @isalisewrites … I finished it… woooo…!

(I did NOT mean to post this right after the new chapter was out lmao)

For anyone interested, this is from Alysium’s Sanctuary chapter 6 and it’s SO GOOD go read it, you will not regret this.

[tonycries]

BODY-ODY!

Synopsis. Jujutsu powers aren’t used just in fights…sometimes they’re there to make you absolutely lose your mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu techniques, INSANE Gojo, breéding, heats (Choso), spítting, cúmplay, marathon séx, slight jealousy (Toji), creampíe, canon Sukuna lactatíon, FÉRAL boys, ratio technique, limitless, extremely neédy Choso, exhíbitionísm (Geto’s), pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.6k

A/N. Hope y’all have a wonderful new week, I’m eepy so I will eep <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The p*ssy killer!

With Toji’s strength, it was inevitable that he’d break seven bed frames, three couches, and four desks. Unapologetically. 

And with the way he had you like this - splayed out like such a slut on your drenched silken sheets, swollen cock pistoning in and out of your sloppy cunt so easily in that mean mating press he had you folded in - you knew he was well and fully intent on adding to that list. 

“Toji-” you’re gasping over the protesting creaks of the mattress. “S’gonna…”

“S’gonna what, woman?” he rasps out, bringing his ears millimeters away from your pouty mouth. Not even stuttering, smooth taunts falling from his lips each time he bullies his fat length into you. “Can’t hear you over this- damn- bed-”

Another wrecked snap! of wood nearby makes you squeal urgently, clawing for mercy at Toji’s toned hips, “-break! S’gonna break!”

Dark brows furrow in sultry concentration, that tiny scar on Toji’s lips quirking up in a devilish taunt when he gifts another harsh glide of his fat tip against your honeyed g-spot. “Damn right m’gonna break you.”

You don’t get the chance to correct him - you didn’t even need to, because he knew what you meant. He knew. But it was just so fun to shut up those cute lil’ whines of yours. Wrapping two big arms around your thighs to hike them higher up his muscled shoulders, Toji chuckles when you get even more soaked at the feeling of his abs flexing against your skin.

“Heh…s’bad manners to lie, y’know.” Shivers run down your spine at his sweet little scold, only making his grin grow wider. “Ya like bein’ thrown around me like this? Pretending to care about some- fuckin’ bed when all you really want is f’me to ruin this cunt?”

He’s speaking with such confidence - bleeding out from his grunts and churning into each hurried, jagged rut of his cock against your gummy cunt. Using that inhuman strength from his heavenly restriction to maneuver your hips and figure out which angle has you making the sweetest noises. 

You narrow your eyes to meet his glassy one, “M’serious, th-the manager at the ngh- furniture store was concerned last time.”

This earns you a soft smack! right on your sopping slit, Tojis rough palm feeling over the bulge of his massive cock, the hole you were milking him with. Forming a glossy, possessive sheen down his wrist. “You dare talk about another man while m’fucking you like this, doll?”

And, honestly, that desperate wobble of your lips almost makes him feel bad for the way he’s teasing you. Almost makes him wanna cave in and fuck you slow and sensual to save both you and this bed you both had picked out only weeks prior. 

Almost. 

That is until you open your pretty mouth to snap, the words babbling out delirious and bratty. “Well maybe he wouldn’t make me hngh- b-buy a new bed every month.”

Oh. 

That does it. 

You keen when his movements come to a torturous standstill, painfully hard cock stretching out your plush walls to every ridge and curve down his cock. And you can’t help the way your pussy pulses at the low, visceral growl tearing from your boyfriend’s mouth. 

Teeth bared, back muscles flexing as he raises his head up, up, up-

SLAM!

In a split-second, one of Toji’s arms had come down to bang against the already-rickety headboard. Letting a few sluggish seconds of his absolutely animalistic gaze devour you from your dazed, widened eyes to the snug cunt that was sucking the soul out of him - before the bed frame sags on one end with a defeated groan. 

“Whoops.” his words come out in a feverish grunt, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. “Don’t worry, m’paying tomorrow when we buy a new bed, n’ I can ah- help this manager find you a new one.” A promise - an apology for later.

Still stuffed so deep inside you, he’s securing one arm around you, easily holding you snug against his toned body when Toji gets off the bed - with you hanging onto him in tow. Choking out a gruff, “But for now…”

“F-fuck you’re so deep-” your jaw slacks open to moan sluttily into Toji’s toned pecs, gravity making his greedy thick head slide in so deep to nudge at your cervix. Filling up every nook and crevice of your sweet spots. Molding your cunt to the shape of him. 

And the only response you get is a few sultry, lingering thrusts. His eyes only darting his hazy gaze around the room- shit, where was that desk again? Right, he’d broken it last week. And the loveseat- Ah, that was just last movie night. 

Well, with a low rumble vibrating from his chest, that’s all it takes for you to be spread so shamefully on the bedroom floor. 

Toji’s pushing your face to the cool hardwood, a toned thigh stopping your needy bucking hips, the other keeping your legs open for him to bully back into your hypnotic cunt. Sloppy. Going right for that rhythm from before. 

“Better cum before I break the floor too, huh?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - BULLSEYE

“Ken~”

“No.”

“...p-please?”

“Nope.”

It’s been like this for far too long now - with you bent over your husband’s home office desk, being absolutely pounded into the various work documents he really should’ve been focusing on instead. 

Of course, there was the speckled yellow tie currently digging into your wrists, pinning them both behind you uselessly as if you were some elaborate sex doll for Nanami to plunge his achy cock into. Though, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

And he was holding back.

“B-but Ken–” you’re letting out a thick, sultry whine of his name. Teary lashes batting back at the towering man, “I promise I won’t run away this time.”

His response comes out as a rough grunt, “That was what you hah- said last time before it got too good.” A large hand coming up to thread between your tangled wrists, using the leverage to pull you back onto Nanami’s unforgiving ruts of his length. “And the time before that.” Spearing you about halfway along his swollen cock, he’s splitting your poor pussy open. “And the time before that. And right now.”

As if to test your little resolve, his free hand comes down to kiss your ass with a deliciously resounding smack! 

And he’s only humming in satisfaction with your absolute mess of a less-than-composed response. A low gurgle of Nanami’s name in your throat, legs trembling when they fuck down onto his thick cock. Down and up as much as you could, stuttering as if to run away from the burn.

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, my love. You got it.” he’s hushing your moaning cries, soft palm coming to soothe the sting - and the inevitable handprint. “Jus’ like I said- how are ya gonna handle the ratio technique if you can’t handle that?”

“I will.” Is your stubborn response - as expected. 

But to your surprise, your husband only grins, “Thought so.” Using the tie to pull your cunt back to grind deeper against him, “How about this, darling-” Nanami propositions, hips halting down to slow, shallow circles around your gummy walls. Swiping at the sweet spots he hits effortlessly, he whispers. Low and just aching for the type of trouble you always get him into, “-try not to run away before you cum this time  n’ I might consider taking off these for the next round.”

And then, there’s a sudden shift in the air. It suddenly becomes thicker, almost suffocating. You wince at the sudden feeling of atoms around you standing at rapt attention - before that expression is quickly morphing into one of such bliss when Nanami’s fat head slams straight into your g-spot.

Lingering, nudging against your sensitive spot just before it becomes too much before he’s reeling his hips back to do it again. And again. And again and again and-

“Ken ohhh fuck- oh my god-” you’re going cross-eyed, drool dripping down your mouth with how fucking good it felt. That divot at the gummy tip of his cock branding onto your bundle of nerves. “F-forgot how much I love your technique.”

“Oh, I know.” you can hear the grin in his voice over the crackle of jujutsu. Tugging harder on the restraints at your wrists, “Anything for my wife, after all.”

“Then would you hah- ngh- untie me so that I can touch my lovely husband?”

This earns you another gifted smack! to your ass, and an even harder jam of his thorough cock pistoned right at your magical spot. “Not a chance.” He’s absolutely ruining you from the inside out, and you feel like you’re melting with each expert graze of his veins against your honeypot of sweet spots - not missing even a single one.

Your ass is recoiling against Nanami’s sharp hip bones now, leaving a faint heart-shaped print on his hardened abs. Tufts of blond tickling your searing skin, twitching balls slapping against your forgotten clit.

“F-fuck.” your voice wobbles when his scarily accurate aim is making your ravaged cunt cry out in lewd squelches. Drowning out the strain in your voice when you whimper, “That all you got, Ken?” 

“Perhaps.” he huffs slyly against your ear, still pulling back on your restraints. “It’s real a wonder you’re not hah- runnin’ away, yet. Aren’t ya close?”

It wasn’t a question he needed to ask - Nanami could feel the way your slick walls were channeling around him, massaging and convulsing depravedly with each plunge. So fucking wet it was forming a lewd little puddle down to his heavy balls.

So ready.

So near. 

“I-I am.” you admit, gingerly shoving back onto his mean cock as much as you could. Somehow, every minute movement hitting at your weak spots, leaving stars behind your lids.

Oh how you wanted to buck away - the feeling too good that you wanted to run. Nails digging sharp grooves into the expensive wooden desk, knees weakening pathetically. Honestly, it was a wonder you weren’t falling on sorry legs on the floor right now - it wasn’t, because if you were in any better state of mind you’d have registered Nanami’s strong arm under your stomach, holding your entire weight up easily.

“Then cum.” he grits out, absolute need lacing his tone. “Cum f’me - and don’t run away, my love.”

So you do - and you couldn’t run away even if you wanted to. Because he’s securing a vice-like grip on his tie, holding your back flush against the sweaty panes of his muscled torso. Legs unable to move anywhere but back into him as Nanami fucked you through your high. 

Nanami groans at the feeling of you cumming all over his achingly hard cock. Squeezing and trying to milk out the fucking life of him. “Hah…how gorgeous f’me.” He kisses away those tears of overstimulation rolling down your face, though, he’s still nudging against your bruised sweet spots inside. “Now, s’time for you to hold up that bargain, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “T-the cult leader?”

That cute, wide-eyed little question of yours makes the gorgeous man in front of you chuckle. A deep, slow baritone that sends shivers right down to where he had you sat on the outline of his thick, straining erection.

“Of course I am.” he purrs against the shell of your ear, shuffling you around so the drenched excuse of your panties was making a mess on the damp spot at his leaky tip. “What about it?”

“Well then why-” you look over your shoulder at the rows upon rows of Geto’s cult members. Faces still, expressionless. Bowed at the waist to look at the floor - but still ever-present. Murmuring in confusion, “-why can’t you tell them to go?”

Another sultry smile. “Oh, gorgeous.” He swipes the tip of his fingers at your syrupy juices, promptly stuffing his mouth full of your heady taste. Moaning so hedonistically, “They’re here for you.”

And then Geto’s shuffling around the expensive robes of his yukata, having you bouncing precariously on his lap when he frees his achingly hot erection. So so red and angry. 

It’s all you can do to bite back your embarrassment when he’s dragging your sloppy cunt all over that veined length of his. Jolting when a hand of his smushes your cheeks together in a pathetic pout,  “Look at me.” he muses, dark dangerous eyes boring into yours. “They’re your welcoming party, after all. Don’t worry, you’re only mine to see n’-” Pecking at your lips in an innocently languid kiss, “-I’ll kill them if they look.”

Right as he says this, Geto’s slipping his fat head past your sopping slit, such a sinful expression of ecstasy taking over his delicate features at the first taste of your heavenly cunt.

“O-ohhh fuck.” he groans, hips coming up in bullying little thrusts to lodge himself inside. “Mmpf- my girl’s cunt feels s’fuckin’ good. How the fuck do you feel this good?”

You’re panting at the sheer stretch - the feeling of your puckering hole being split apart so blatantly - and for hundreds of others to see. Candied lips coming up to graze his in a messy clash, “My girl?”

Ah, just hearing those words echoed back to him has Geto thrusting up mindlessly into your plushy walls. A hand coming back to circle around your clit pooling your juices back on his addicted fingers. 

“Yes-” his long tongue darts out to catch those drops of your slick. Before diving back in again- and again and- “My girl. My pussy. And every one of these little worthless pigs are going to know that now.”

You could practically feel the wave of shudders that run through your audience. But a quick glimpse back showed that they all stayed firmly rooted to their spot, eyes trained on the luxurious carpet of Geto’s hideout. Whereas you were shivering for a whole other reason - because Geto’s lengthy fingers are back to toying with your poor cunt. 

Two of them spreading out your puffy pussy lips to show off how greedy you were being - the way your dripping cunt couldn’t do anything but milk Geto Suguru for each and every one of his delicious inches. Taking him so well as he pounded up lazily into you, making the fat of your ass jiggle with each calculated pump. 

It’s so filthy - so agonizing. 

He noses up your racing pulse, “Heh, I can tell ya liked that, pretty. You just go so much wetter, almost drippin’ onto the floor.” You weren’t - yet, simply forming a glossy mess of slick all over the cult leader’s distinctive robes. “So sloppy I bet they’ll see soon.”

“But you said-” you’re choking when a particularly hard thrust has you clinging onto his broad shoulders for stability. Fingernails blemishing his worshiped skin with red, raw marks gifted from you. “-said m’only yours to see.”

Oh, how he knew you’d be fucking fun.

There’s an almost reverent pitch in Geto’s throaty rasp, “You’re right.” As if seeing you for the first time - and he’s just ramming into you with a greedy grin. “So fuckin’ right.”

Geto’s dick is so girthy that it fills out every crevice inside your pussy that you didn’t even know existed. Balls a rightfully sinful side of heavy that made a loud smack! ripple throughout the otherwise deathly quiet room. 

“You’re mine.” he whispers, strained like he was losing a bit of his sanity with each press up against your spongy cervix. “N’ I should fuck you like you are.” Which had Geto teething down your jaw, your earlobe - sharp canines digging hard when he bites down at the crook of your neck. Enough to draw blood, to break skin, to have you screaming out for- mercy? More? But he’s already plowing on, “N’ everyone here will accept it.”

He lets out such a lovely moan in tandem with yours, head thrown back when his thrusts get untimed. Sloppy. Glistening with need and slick as you mewl, “S-Sugu m’close m’gonna cum-”

Bang!

You whirl your head up to see Geto with his free hand held out, eyes wide, crazed - glaring intensely at something over your shoulder. Something you don’t get to see, because he’d tilting your head back to his in a romantic gesture.

“Told you I’d kill them if they looked.” He breathes, over the distinct growling of his rainbow dragon. Kissing gently at your lips, the tip of his fat cock colliding into your g-spot. “Now, where were we?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Like an animal

There was something that no one in the jujutsu world spoke about the most advanced curses - something hidden. Something dirty. Something that had you crying out where you straddled Choso’s fat cock, big bulbous tears rolling down your cheeks, throat shot when he was stuffing your poor pussy full of his fifth orgasm this rut. 

“Please oh- please.” Choso whines, hips stuttering up into your gummy depths. Strong arms circling your waist to hold you still while his fat head paints your walls white with thick streams of his seed, “Take it- fuck fuck fuck jus’ take it for me.”

Each sloppy half-thrust is all he can manage to drag you through your own climax, lips falling into a soft oh! at the dredges of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his shaft. 

“Baby…” Choso starts, greedy eyes just devouring that sinfully creamy ring now forming around his soaked hilt. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, voice cracking at the end, “I think-”

And you know that tone. You know what it bodes for your sensitive cunt. Reminded that it’s currently that time of year for your poor curse boyfriend. When something dark, and primal pokes its head out. Aching to touch you, to breed you - killing him to make you his. 

So you’re gasping out in disbelief, “Cho- what! Again?” Scrambling to perch your hands on his pecs and sit up, “The heat’s still not done?”

You don’t get very far - because he pulls you back onto his body with a possessive tug. Looking up at you with big, teary eyes, “No.”

His syrupy words are coated in desperation, a few octaves higher than normal as he murmurs against your open lips. “N’ it’s a rut, baby. All m’gonna wan’ ngh- do is fuck this cute pussy.” he coos, a slick-glossed fist dipping down to squeeze out the last few beads of cum out of his base and into your overspilling cunt. “Don’t think I’ll ever be done- not until she’s properly bred. Not until- fuck m’not gonna- get out of this alive.”

As if he hadn’t just wrangled out another overstimulated high, Choso’s bucking his hips up sloppily into yours. Toned back arching off of the cotton sheets - soaked and absolutely ruined with pools of your sin. 

Over and over and-

“But Cho–” you babble out when his girth is thrashing back at those sensitive areas inside that he’s mapped out so many times before this. “I think I’m not gettin’ out of ngh- this alive.”

In his barely-lucid state, Choso’s taking this as a compliment, flashing a crooked, pussydrunk grin up at you. Face flushed a pretty pink, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead when he bats his heavy lashes, “Mhm.” 

Then he takes the opportunity when your lips fall slack in shock at his response to plant a steady stream of his spit. Missing purposefully to thumb away the splattered sheen of him along the corner of your swollen lips. “N’ you hah- not going out until g-get this cute pussy pregnant, m’kay?”

The notion is so dizzying that for a moment you don’t believe him. He doesn’t wait for your response - doesn’t have to. 

Back to his mind-numbing addiction of spearing your heavenly pussy on his angry cock. Like he couldn’t stop himself.

Again. And again. And again and again.

And he thinks you look so pretty like this - steady gushes of his cum dribbling down your shamefully spread puffy folds, thighs pathetically shaky trying to keep up with his frenzied tempo. 

A whiny ah! ah! ah! leaves your mouth with each kiss against your ravaged g-spot.

“Cho- I don’t think- ngh I can cum again-” your heavy lips part open to moan. Feeling so raw everywhere. “Are you really gonna-”

“Say it.” he begs. Two hands of his coming up to knead your sensitive tits, running his thumbs in awe over your puffy nipples. “Say it- say it please-” He’s attaching his pretty pink lips around one, cheeks hollowing while he sucks as if trying to draw out something delicious. “Please, ma.”

Fuck - you don’t know what you’re getting wetter at - the lil’ nickname or the way Choso’s dancing a hand down to draw sultry, purposeful circles. Syrupy slick saturating all over his toned pelvis with each ram of his hips.

You’re keening, “Are you fuuuuck jus’ like that- are you really gonna fuck a baby into me? Or die trying?”

“Let’s see…” he lets out a low drawl, quieting down to let your obscene squelches take over. Music to his ears, drunk off of every sound with every harsh piston of his hips. Loud. He gives your clit a hard pinch, grinning, “Yeah. My girl’s pretty cunt says I can.”

It only takes a few more hard crashes of his thick head against your sweet spots before you’re clawing at the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to hold onto an ounce of your sanity while you’re cumming and cumming and cumming so hard you can’t stop. Wave after wave of your high being dragged out of you.

And if you couldn’t stop - then Choso wouldn’t. Whispering praises slurring together and sticking against your mouth as he spills his potent seed into you once more. 

Wispy strings filling all the way at the back of your pussy while he fucks you through your high. Milking himself on you like some cocksleeve - addicted. Needing to breed you.

Which is why, when his spotty vision catches a trickle of his own seed out of your bloated pussy, Choso’s clicking his tongue. Thumbing your swollen folds further apart, he gives your clit a slow rub to wake up your droopy eyes. “Rut’s not over yet, ma.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Got milk?

“Tch. Stubborn lil’ thing.” the king of curses lets out a proud noise of disagreement - but you catch that tint of red on his high cheekbones, the way his swollen tip twitches wildly against your gummy walls. “S’not gonna work.”

The only response he gets is a cooing hum, your fingers dancing over Sukuna’s pecs to squeeze and grope at the curve of muscle.

So hypnotized with what you’re doing, it’s almost embarrassing for him. And all he can do is tighten the greedy grip he has on the fat of your ass, sliding your sopping cunt down, down, down until your throbbing clit scratches against those tufts of pink. Sitting so prettily on his throne.  

At the site of your lewd entrancement, Sukuna scoffs in frustration, “I told you, brat. I don’t know if you’re already fucked dumb on my cock but- ngh–” 

And oh the great Ryomen Sukuna whines - he whines, such a pretty noise that makes your elastic walls tighten around his rock-hard shaft. Rutting up deeper into your pussy so mindlessly mean when you wrap your pretty lips around one of his puffy nipples. 

“I know what you said, Kuna.” your voice sends vibrations all the way down to his needy cock. Leaky and angry where he was dragging inside your cunt. “But I also know what I heard.” Sucking. Harsh. “And a little birdie told me that someone can make milk-”

“Fuckin’ Uraume.” Sukuna spits, hips picking up the pace now that he has the answer he’s looking for. Long fingernails leaving neat little marks on your skin, “N’ you seriously believed that shit?”

And then he’s making your back arch more, kicking out your thighs even further to spread over the stretch of his girth. Fucking deeper and deeper until he was sure he was massaging at every inch of your walls. 

Managing through pure hissy rage to punctuate each ram of his shaft with threats, “Don’t believe that fuckin’ rumor I swear I’ll kill-” The words die in Sukuna’s chest when he’s snapping his pussydrunk head down at you - the same chest you were still pawing greedily at. “Oi, what did I tell ya?”

When you don’t make a move to remove yourself, he’s dancing a hand down to toy with your neglected clit. Forcing your dazed mouth to pull away. 

“I-I don’t know, Kuna.” you purr, still gasping for air. “Because-” You roll his raw nipples between your fingers again - desperate. Making him hiss. Glassy eyes snapping down to the way he was fucking you so filthy now. “-you seem to love this.”

And he can’t deny it - can’t make up any excuse for the way he was bouncing you along his fat veiny length like some cocksleeve. Pussy lips kissing him tenderly, thick head gliding across your cervix. Sinking into your drenched cunt so desperate. 

Yet, he grits out, “Won’t work.”

“Will.” you smirk, still teasing his pecs the exact same way he’d do with your tits. 

“Won’t.”

“Wi- hah-” your words are being gulped down by Sukuna’s sharp canines nipping on your lips. Drinking in your heady moans with every bullying thrust into your walls. Soft pads of his fingers thumbing at your clit, your puffy folds, pushing himself deeper and deeper. “You’re so unfair-”

That drags out a ragged grin from him, the wet smack of skin-on-skin music to his ears at this point. He’s wiping away the excess drool on your lips from your antics, “Maybe you’re just too gullible. So why don’t you hah- put that pretty mouth instead to-”

And then it happens. 

Your cockdrunk eyes manage to focus on that tiny, beading pearl of white at the very tip of Sukuna’s mouthwatering nipples. Without a second thought, you surge forwards, reattaching your lips with his ravaged skin. 

“O-oh fuck-” he shudders, fingers stuttering where they were drawing obscene circles on your clit. “Wait fuck oh- fuck fuck fuck, brat.”

That’s all it takes for him to cum. Balls squeezing so fucking painfully as Sukuna cums harder than he has in the thousands of years on this Earth. Mashing his cock into you, drawing out every lengthy spurt of his seed to paint your cunt white. 

“Take it-” You don’t know if he’s talking about his cum or his milk. “Fuckin’ take if you want it so bad.”

Each shrill profanity has him reaching deep into your gummy core, bowing his body further to your greedy mouth. The sobbing wet smacks of your lips having him humping you fast. Messy. 

And shit anyone would faint if they saw the infamous king of curses like this - if he didn’t kill them first, that is. 

You, however, his favorite lil’ human, was having the time of your life. Thick globs of cum smearing down your thigh, forming a slippery coating where you were sucking him through his high. Sukuna’s sweet sweet milk treacles down your lips, rich and syrupy. So much that it was spilling down onto lewd little puddles on the curve of your tits. 

“Oi, fuck you greedy little slut.” Sukuna coos at your ravenous pursuit, the way you were pinching at his pecs for more. “Don’t waste- ngh- any of it.”

And upon seeing that grin of yours - that devilishly smug, white-glossed smirk - Sukuna all but forces your lips to crash against his. Hips fucking up menacing - still so pointedly hard, while he tastes himself. “Don’t think m’not gonna make you pay back tenfold for this embarrassment, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sanity? Optional.

You wondered just how high the kill count would be.

In the hundreds? No, you fear, when your boyfriend slams your apartment door open, eyes hooded, glowing. Barely getting a word out before he’s pouncing on you like a wolf starved, ripping off that useless excuse of shorts with only two fingers.

In the thousands? Probably not, you think, when he doesn’t waste a moment before shoving the entirety of his angry, leaking shaft into your sloppy hole. The only apology you’re getting for the moment being a few praises and whispers of “buying a new pair of shorts for you.”

In the hundreds of thousands? Maybe, you muse, when immediately Gojo is smearing his fat tip against your cervix. Sinking his way into your heavenly pussy to wreak havoc on you where he could be going out of control and destroying a few cities. 

“Nah, millions.” His slow, sensual purr is ringing in your ears, and you have half the mind to wonder whether Gojo had a mind-reading technique, too. Greedy lips dragging up to mouth over your thumping pulse. Dangerous. “Might just take out hah- this whole fuckin’ city if it wasn’t for this ngh- sweet pussy hypnotizing me.”

Each and every babble falling from Gojo’s candied pink lips are followed by some of the meanest thrusts. Having his tight balls smack against your ass, running his mouth as mindlessly as he’s fucking you into the living room couch he happened to find you in. 

You’re gasping when his long fingers come down to give your poor clit a buzzing tap! Sending sparks with the very dredges of his jujutsu. 

“T-Toru what happened?” you’re managing to gasp out, your ears popping at the pressure of the air around your two. “Why are you so-”

“Feral? Out of control? Maniacal?” he fires off, a devilish grin spreading with each suggestion. Eyes wide, tinged with an electric glow, voice breaking desperately as he plows on, “Absolutely fucking losing it?”

If either of you were in a better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the way that lamp on the edge of the coffee table exploded. Shards of glass flinging across the room and stopping short where Gojo had limitless poring over the two of you.

“Well, you see…” he’s humming so sing-song, large hands coming up to wrangle your thighs onto his broad shoulders. Gnawing down on his worried bottom lip when he’s trying to squeeze himself impossibly deeper inside you, “-I had a bad day.”

“That’s it!?”

Those startled words are bursting from your lips without any thought. And they have Gojo narrowing his eyes at you like a predator cornering his prey, teasing grin curling down into something almost garish.

He hikes a muscled thigh up, fingers tightening around the plush of your thighs. “Yes, that’s it.”

It’s quiet - barely audible, even - followed by a low thrust that reaches you all the way in the bottom of your pussy. Somehow bruising - Gojo’s fat tip clashing against your g-spot, your cervix, so hard it makes a broken whimper drag from your shot throat.

And this seems to jolt him back to his senses somewhat, that furiously depraved glint flickering in his summer blue eyes. “Oh, sweetheart.” he sighs, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy mess of teeth and spit. “Couldn’t stop hngh- thinkin’ about you all day. Couldn’t stop wanting- needing-”

He’s cutting himself off with a pained groan, back to having the soft pads of his fingers roll over your clit in humming, sultry circles. Little buzzes of his electricity going right through your veins. “Fuck, s’all I thought of even when- hah- fighting. Just you, my girl, waiting at home f’me to stuff you full of my cock.”

Sloppier. Incessant - just milking himself on the dripping channel of your cunt. Deep, lingering thrusts that have you missing him every time he’s reeling back. A few stuttering pops of bones have you spitting out slobbering little pleas into Gojo’s panting mouth, gummy walls sucking him in so good. Clamping down until it was almost difficult for him to ram into your greedy pussy. 

Honestly, whatever shreds of your rationality wondered how the fuck you two were still unharmed, still having no bones broken - it was because of his reverse curse technique, you later learn.

But for now all that was going through your honeyed, oversaturated mind was how full you were of him and only him - until you could barely even breathe-

“Hey hey now.” His words a smooth coo, not betrayed just how ragged his hips were. Another few smacks of his ruthless fingers right down your sopping slit have you wrenching your eyes back up at him. Your poor clit getting caught in the crossfire, leaving lewd smears glistening all over Gojo’s palm. The overhead lights flicker, illuminating little blue specks of lightning as he kisses gently on your forehead, “F-fuck- keep up, pretty.”

Somehow, you manage to gasp, “Keep up?”

“Mhm, because m’not fuckin’ done until I pass out.”

The words are pushing you over the edge, and before you know it, your velvety walls are squeezing around Gojo’s engorged cock so tight. So heavenly as he fucks you through your high - not even bothering to ease you into it, he couldn’t.

And it only takes a few silky whines of his name out of your mouth before he’s beading out pearly white spurts of cum. Overspilling into the snug channel of your pussy, thick seed gushing out as Gojo shoves it deeper and deeper to decorate your walls. His snowy brows knit together when he cums and cums so fucking hard it’s like something bursts.

And something did - every single lightbulb within a fifteen mile radius of your apartment. 

But you don’t notice, too caught up in Gojo’s syrupy sweet hum, “Well, m’not passed out yet n’ since the electricity’s gone I guess there’s only one thing to do, huh~”

A/N. LMFAOOO Toji acting like he can afford to buy another bed smh. Also the way Sukuna being able to lactate is canon?? Gege you hoe.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[blushstories]

you hide an injury from joel after your patrol shift | hurt/comfort, slight angst

i had two versions for this and they will be split with a —— so please enjoy either or both!

five runners. five bullets. the run down store’s only light came from broken windows and missing roof tiles, and you’ve backed yourself into a corner so that nothing can sneak up on you. your torch casts shadows behind them and they approach in a line. you send a bullet through a head, a kneecap and its head, a neck. you duck one clawing at you and shoot up once from the floor. the screeching doesn’t end, and you pull the trigger again to hear an empty click. your heart stutters, your breath hitches, and you kick at the runner’s leg to send it to the floor, and aim another at its head as you scramble to your feet. you holster your gun and reach for your flipknife. but your pocket is empty. you dig into it a bit more, stepping backwards as the runner recovers, but it’s not there.

you want to scream. not in fear, in fury. a glint catches your eye and your torch has caught the blade of your knife on the floor. the runner charges, and you launch yourself next to your knife, slamming into the floor at full force. you grab it, roll onto your back and catch the incoming infected as it jumps on top of you. gripping it at its shoulder, you stab the knife into its chest, its neck, its temple, until it ceases its movements. its blood seeps through your fingers, dripping onto your chest. with a cry of relief you shove it off of you and wipe your knife on your jeans before pocketing it. its only when you try to sit up that you feel it. a sharp, hot pain in your side, forcing you to lie back again. you glance at the lifeless runner next to you, a distant pang entering your heart at the person they used to be.

you wince as you try to sit up again, inhaling sharply as you peel your shirt away from your side. and there it was, a neat shard of glass wedged into your skin.

—————— track 1 starts here ———————

“oh, fuck.” you sniff, blinking up at the sky. deep breath. removing it might make you bleed out, and you know maria could help you. not tommy; he’d blab to joel, who’s already not keen about you going on patrol on your own. but he has things to do in jackson, you couldn’t let him risk his life out here. it only takes one wrong move.

you lie back, and gently roll over until you’re on your knees, trying to keep your torso as straight as possible. using a nearby shelf, you pull yourself up. it’s fine. it’s not bleeding too much, just leaking here and there. you check again and swipe it up with your thumb. you’re not too far from jackson, you think as you reach your horse. riding on horseback would definitely fuck up your insides, so you decided on a gentle walk. you don’t have much daylight left though, so you try to get a move on.

the sun is kissing the horizon by the time you see jackson again, and the doors open as you approach, as if they had been waiting for you. your feet feel numb, and you’re trying to stand up as straight as you can without wincing. the intruder in your side causing a deep, aching throb. you let go of the reins and let your horse run off towards the stables, right before you hear your name echoing across the courtyard. tommy slips down the ladder from the watchtower like it’s slick with grease, his boots barely touching one rung before it’s met the other.

he bounds towards you, forehead glistening, and slams into your good side with his arms around you. you bite your tongue at the force, feeling the glass slicing into you more. but you mustve let some sound out, becaus tommy pulls away and holds you at arms length.

he breathes your name, eyes assessing you. “jesus. you look— joel’s been about to send a search party for you.”

“it’s not my blood,” you lie. then you sniff, briefly breaking eye contact. “not all of it. where’s maria?”

tommy freezes for a nanosecond, eyes boring into yours. he knows, but he doesn’t ask, using two fingers against your forearm to nudge you into following him. he doesn’t pay any extra attention, as you walk past jesse, dina, and ellie, he probably doesn’t want any sort of rumour to find its way back to joel. and for that, you’re grateful. you smile at ellie on your way past, hand hovering over your wound to hide the bloodstain that was yours. she smiles back, you think. you’ve turned the corner before you and tommy are alone.

“you can’t tell joel.” you say. just then, your foot lands in a hole of land a lot deeper than you’re expecting, sending a painful jolt through your right side, exploding into the wound. you catch yourself on a nearby porch as your knees respond poorly to the shockwave through your body.

“woah,” tommy grips your arms carefully, avoiding your wound. “you’re kidding. he’ll find out when you tell him.” he helps you walk the little bit further to his house.

“no way. he’ll never let me patrol solo again!” tommy looks at you, eyebrows raised.

“is that such a bad thing?” he pushes the door open and shouts for maria to clear the table for an emergency. you hear a clattering and tommy shifts beside you. “sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs, swooping beneath your knees to pick you up and place you on the table. you wince and swallow your cries of pain, hearing his whispers of “i know, i know. shh.” in your ear.

you feel a soft towel beneath you and maria’s supplies are spread on a small table nearby. she’s quick to business, slowly pulling up your shirt just enough to reveal the glass, which to your horror has dug itself deeper into you.

“it’s not that big, right?” you breathe lightly. but you eye tommy in the doorway, whose hand is covering his mouth, raking through his scruff.

“christ.” he says into his palm.

“i need your shirt off,” maria says calmly, and with that tommy spins on his heel and leaves, the door closing quietly behind him. you hold your arms up and allow maria to pull your bloodsoaked shirt off of you, before you hear a flannel being wrung into a bowl of water. it’s warm against your skin, the blood and dirt disappearing. but she’s delaying the inevitable.

she has a pillow under your head, and passes you a dry flannel.

“put it in your mouth,” she says. “i don’t have painkillers.” you do as she says as she readies two pairs of medium tweezers, a lot of gauze and some thread. you feel sick at the sight of it and prefer not to look. so you watch the ceiling as maria counts down, and on two, your skin feels as if it’s being ripped through by a chainsaw. you have to bite your scream into the cloth in your mouth, slapping a hand on top to muffle the sound even more. you’re gripping your own face with such force that you know you’ve left marks behind when maria pauses. she wipes at your forehead with the wet flannel and says she’s giving you a break. you shake your head as a tear slides down your temple and dissolves into your hairline.

“just do it, don’t care. hurts enough,” you mumble, head feeling as if it’s floating away.

“you could pass out. i am not having joel at my ankles for that,” she says, with care. she strokes your head lovingly, and purses her lips. she asks you if you’re ready and you nod.

“the whole thing,” you say, not daring to glance down. maria doesn’t reply, but she readies the tweezers. she takes a breath. and the pain returns. your body shakes as maria tries her best to steadily extract the glass, and you feel something dislodge. maria swears, and somewhere far away, you hear an argument.

the door slams open. the jolt in the room sends a searing pain through to your head, and your throat feels shredded.

“shit, joel!” maria shouts. he’d heard your screams due to the open kitchen window, and fought tommy while he was standing guard at the door.

“what the fuck happened?” joel shouts, stalking towards the table. tommy slips in front of him, hands on his chest shoving him back.

“wait; let her finish. you don’t want this to be worse. trust me.” there’s something serious in his tone that would even make you shut up. joel freezes, and watches maria dump the shard onto the table before starting on plugging the gushing of blood that’s just left your body.

with a deep throbbing ache remaining, you’re too tired to keep your arm up, dropping the cloth away from your mouth as you try to catch your breath. you consciousness is floating away, your eyes unfocused, breaths fractured. joel bats tommy’s arm away and he’s on his knees next to your head, smoothing the hairs away from your sticky forehead. you hold your breath as maria increases pressure on your wound, and joel takes your hand in his.

“that’s it, sweetheart, take it out on me,” joel mumbles into your temple. you squeeze his hand and groan in pain, feeling nausea creep into your throat.

maria’s recruited tommy. he opens a bottle of alcohol and douses a clean rag in it, muttering an apology as he sets your wound alight. joel watches in horror as your body convulses, sees the oozing wound and hoping the blood is only making it seem worse. your forehead is slick with sweat, and you’re only half conscious, murmuring his name while existing on a different planet.

“oh, baby,” he whispers, shoulders hitched high. you’ve started breathing heavily, and he doesn’t relax until maria begins stitching, then eventually wrapping your body. joel helps to hold you up enough, cradling your head and keeping your shoulders up. when maria cleans you up as much as she can, joel whisks you from the table to the couch, pulling up a blanket to your chin to protect your dignity.

when you come to, he’s on the floor, back to the coffee table. he’s kept his head up with his arm braced on his knees as he dozes. you stir, and he snaps to attention. your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t stop yourself blabbing, “joel, it was an accident, ‘m fine, please don’t worry.”

he wants to be mad, he really does. he wants to hit you with a “what were you thinkin’?” but you’re so tired, and your voice is all pebbly, and he doesn’t have it in him. he’s soft on you.

so all he says is, “i know. but i will. and we gotta talk about this soon.” you swallow the rocks in your throat, but you nod. maybe it’s time to stop being a lone wolf. an extra gun could save your life, after all.

———————— track 2 starts here ————————

you stare at it for a few moments in disbelief. heat pools behind your eyes and you take a sharp inhale. the runner twitches next to you and your heart flies into your mouth. you think your wound isn’t hurting as much as it should do, but you’re putting it down to adrenaline.

“fuck me, i guess,” you mutter to yourself shakily, pulling yourself onto your knees and hauling yourself up. should you pull it out? maybe it will fall out itself, it doesn’t seem lodged too deep. you wince with each step you take, and consider using your walkie talkie to call for backup. but you want to deal with this yourself.

the route back has a noticeable lack of infected, which you’re grateful for. your horse, gale, nudges at your shoulder when you seem to slow down, but the pins and needles in your feet can’t be reasoned with.

“‘s fine, gale. we’re almost there,” you say blearily, watching jackson appear dead ahead.

your feet drag against the ground, and your hand is slick holding onto gale’s reins. there’s a strange smell in your nose. pain. it’s metallic and stale, and your eyes feel too heavy for midday.

you don’t know how you find the strength to shout for the gate to open, but you do, and you slide in — they only open it a crack for patrols. you jolt slightly, thinking you’ve nicked the shard on the side of the gate, and with your next step you realise you have. your smile turns wonky, and instead of greeting tommy as usual, you settle on a wave.

you leave gale with the rest of the horses and stumble towards your house, where joel is working in the front yard. his muscles flex underneath his flannel as he moves a bucket of something to one side. he catches a glimpse of you approaching as he sets it down, and you try straightening up. heat rushes from the wound to your face, and you sniff away any cry of pain.

“hey, sweetheart,” he says, voice dripping with honey. he pulls off some heavy gloves and turns around with a smile, wiping his forearm across his forehead. it drops as soon as he sees you. his eyebrows set and his eyes narrow.

“what happened?” he asks, the words stale. you shuffle forwards, aming to dodge him.

“a successful patrol, if you must know. ganked a bunch of infected. i want a shower though,” you say, a little too fast. joel chucks the gloves to one side and doesn’t break eye contact.

“you’re standin’ funny,” he says. you try to play it off.

“you think i stand funny?” you feign hurt.

“knock it off. are you hurt? i need to know, baby,” his mask cracks. there’s a stab in your heart, and your side.

“i’ll get back to you on that,” you begin, sliding past him and climbing the stairs of the porch, using your arm more than your legs to pull you up. but you’ve crunched your side too hard, and you feel the shard begin to pop out. you’re glad you’re facing away from joel as your face crumples in agony, the electric hot wound sending prickles through your entire body. “but right now—“ you wince halfway, “i need a shower.”

the toe of your shoe catches the tip of the last step and you fly forwards, onto your hands and knees. you hear your name behind you and then you feel him. hands. on your shoulders, on your hips. you’ve frozen as the pain rockets through you, stealing your breath and your composure.

“fuck. jesus, fuck.” he’s turned you over and has spotted an angry red patch on your shirt. and it’s growing. he’s so mad. but your eyes are drooping and your eyebrows are all creased. so he bites the inside of his cheek in panic. he taps your cheek with his fingers. “stay with me, now. hold on sweetheart,” he says. you’re whimpering because you need to bite your tongue in case you scream. “you gotta—“ he sniffs harshly through his nose, “you gotta let me help you.”

his hand grasps your shirt and pulls it up. with wide eyes, he whips his head around to scan the immediate area, spotting ellie and jesse emerging nearby. he shouts for help even though his tongue feels numb. he can’t put pressure on the wound — for obvious reasons — but blood’s pooling onto the porch and he feels sick because if you don’t pull through, and the wood is stained forever…

footsteps thunder through your head, and there’s a murmuring that buzzes through your consciousness and you’re falling from joel, further and further.

you wake up in your bed. the sheets are soft and you feel clean. even though joel sleeps next to you routinely, he’s now slumped in a chair, arms folded tightly across his chest and chin falling into his neck. you lift up the sheet covering your body and eye the neat bandage around you, with only a faint patch of red seeping through. your throat is dry, and you feel so tired; a dry crackling at the back of your throat sends you into a coughing fit. the action jerks your wound which in turn remixes your coughs into cries of pain.

joel stirs, then, and his head snaps up. his eyes are bleary until he realises that you’re awake, so he reaches for a glass of water on the side and stumbles over to you. he slowly tips it into your mouth and the cool liquid tastes like gold. you tap his wrist twice so that he doesn’t accidentally waterboard you, and he listens. your coughs die down and you put pressure on your wound in case it makes it hurt less. and then he settles next to you.

“how’re ya feeling?” he says. you nod.

“‘M alive.” you aren’t sure what to say. there’s an elephant in the room, and you’re too scared to address it. joel isn’t, though.

“i don’t know why you’re so reckless. why you try to hide it from me.” he averts his gaze, but it’s clearly planets away. “i’m not putting you on patrol again,” he says. your jaw falls.

“what? but it’s the only job i’m good at!” you insist. “i didn’t say anything because i knew you’d say that.”

joel runs his hand down his scruff. “you could’ve died. hell, you almost did and it wasn’t even a fuckin’ infected.” you know he’s reliving something that you can’t remember.

“exactly, it was an accident. c’mon joel. next time—“

“there won’t be a next time. don’t you get it? next time, a clicker eats your throat. next time, runners take you down. next time, a bloater rips your jaw open—“

“joel, stop—“ you cringe at his graphic monologue.

“no, i won’t stop. you’re a smart girl; why aren’t you acting like it? i’m not letting you out of my sight,” his voice cracks imperceptibly, “m not gonna lose you.”

oh. that’s why he’s lashing out.

“you won’t. okay? you won’t. can we please work this out later? i’m very good at compromising,” you say, your hand finding his jaw and pushing him to look at you. he does, and there’s care in his eyes. he squeezes your hand and inhales steadily, blinking back something.

“okay, fine,” he says. “do you need anything?”

you shake your head, biting back a smile, “just you.” you pat the bed next to you and wait patiently for joel — now suppressing a smile — to stalk around the bed, toe of his boots, and lie next to you. you lean up against him as much as possible, already drifting again into sleep. there’s a soft kiss to your head, and you’re smiling in your sleep.

[sixosix]

just say it | nagi seishiro

angst to fluff, confessions!!, friends to lovers, time skip, 2k words

you’re not sure, exactly, but seeing nagi seishiro sprawled like a cat on your couch, looking all too much like your home is his, leaves almost a strange feeling in your stomach. it festers, ugly and clinging.

and stupid nagi continues to lay there, oblivious to how your fingers clench to block out the beat of your heart.

“oi,” you throw a towel on his head, grimacing at the sight of sweat clinging to the back of his neck and sticking onto your headrest. “what are you doing in my house?” and did he travel by foot all the way here? under the scorching sun?

nagi cranes his neck, all slow and lazy, eyes wide. “oh,” he says. “you left your notebook,” he points at the table, without looking at it, “on my desk.”

“well, thanks, i guess.” you push his long legs away from the side of the couch and fall back onto it, sighing deeply. “you could’ve just given it to me tomorrow.”

he seems to pause for a second, thumbs hovering awkwardly on his phone screen. when you face him with a questioning look, he returns as if nothing happened. “reo said i could visit you.”

you hate it. you always hate when nagi does this.

when for a split second, he hesitates, shuffles a bit too close, his fingers tremble to reach for you, or his eyes flicker to your lips, but he never does anything about it.

he pulls away at the last second, and time seems to flow back normally in a snap. as if he wasn’t just about to ruin the friendship you’ve been picking scabs on just to get him to peel it off and make a move already.

and knowing nagi, he never does. he never does. (and he never will.)

“reo, huh,” you murmur, giving him a doubtful look. nagi doesn’t react visibly, but you can tell he’s starting to get uncomfortable under your scrutiny, burying his chin into the towel.

when you stretch your legs over his lap, he lets you. he doesn’t question it, doesn’t react, just keeps playing on his phone, and it’s almost infuriating how little you have an effect on him.

and knowing you, you’ll keep letting him drag this out. because underneath that frustration is fear, vulnerable and thin, ready to crumble faster than butterfly wings with the wrong move.

if you confess, and he pulls away, it can still be back to normal. that’s what everyone says, and those people don’t talk to their forgotten ones anymore. they wouldn’t understand.

but it will never be the same with nagi, because you know that you love him and will keep loving him. it will not be okay if he doesn’t feel the same, no matter how hard you try to fool yourself. it will hurt and claw out your heart, chew, and spit it out like it wasn’t someone’s soul.

it will hurt to know that you would peel yourself open and offer your heart to him, and he wouldn’t even accept it because he’ll say he doesn’t love you back. he shouldn’t deserve your dedication. it will hurt even more to know that nagi will bleed out for someone else someday, despite the longing glances and lingering touches he keeps giving your way.

“you know, you should be asking me permission, not literally anyone else who doesn’t live here.”

nagi hums, and the round finishes with a final slash of his weapon. the boss crumbles, and you kind of feel for it. he spares you a glance. “you don’t mind.”

you don’t.

even if you don’t say it out loud, the ghost of a smile on nagi’s lips says he knows.

it should be enough that you could be under the same sky as him. someone like nagi. but you are selfish and obsessed, keening like a tamed lion when his attention is focused your way.

with an almost personal jab on the number button of the vending machine, you watch the juice box tumble out.

you bend down to pluck it out but almost drop it back down again when you feel a warm body press against your back as you stand straight.

with a chin propped up on your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist, and a phone right in front of you, you nearly choke on your spit realizing who it is.

“fuck’s sake, nagi,” you breathe, pressing a hand on your chest as if that would somehow strangle it to quiet down.

when nagi huffs an amused laugh, your traitorous heart goes wilder.

“let me free so i can also buy you your lemon tea,” you grumble, wriggling in his grasp.

nagi continues fiddling with his phone, skillfully defeating virtual enemies. “no,” he says after a while. “you’re warm.”

“i’ll strangle you.”

nagi hums in acknowledgment.

with a defeated sigh, you press the number of nagi’s favorite drink, packed in a bright yellow box. hoping to piss him off, you abruptly squat down to grab the lemon tea, but nagi follows, unbothered.

he follows after you, and again when you rise back up. and he’s still unbothered.

“you are so annoying,” you grumble, tucking your juice box under your arm to unwrap nagi’s. you poke the straw in, scowling.

you twist in his grasp to face him, holding the straw up to his mouth. “here. you haven’t drunk anything recently.”

but nagi’s face is too surprised, his eyes flicking down to where your hand is on his chest, then to where his arms are still snug around you. if you still had any hope left in you, you’d say there’s a flush in his cheeks.

it makes you realize how this position must look to other people, pressed against each other like this.

“thanks,” nagi murmurs, sipping happily on the straw. the moment shatters once again, and he doesn’t fucking do anything about it. even later and tomorrow, and the day after that, you two won’t talk about it.

from behind you, his character makes a grunt of pain, and you notice nagi isn’t looking at his phone, but somewhere on your face.

down, his phone says.

down, indeed.

when nagi and reo have to leave for this thing called blue lock, you say to yourself that you’re relieved.

you’ll miss reo a lot. he is one of your best friends, and you’re proud to watch him grow and become the person he wants to be. at least he doesn’t drive you fucking crazy.

nagi is an entirely different story.

the goodbye wasn’t anything remotely close to heartfelt. it felt like they weren’t even leaving, just taking a trip to the bathroom, but they had to make everything dramatic for no reason. and you’re fine with that. it will soften the blow.

but stupid nagi doesn’t allow just a gentle wound when he leaves.

[reo 6:43] don’t miss us too much y/n or else i might have to come running out :(

[y/n 6:50] don’t baby me and go play soccer, loser

[y/n 6:50] you better text me as soon as you can and tell me everything

[reo 6:52] i will i will

[reo 6:52] (sends an attachment of him and nagi on bus seats. reo has an arm thrown over nagi’s shoulder with his tongue stuck out, while nagi is frowning at the window.

[y/n 6:53] dumbasses. i love you.

[reo 6:53] we love you too

[nagi 7:35] i miss you.

you bury your phone face-first on your bed, as if that’ll spit out nagi’s message and let you cut it in pieces and throw it out of existence. you hate it. you hate it.

what was it about distance making the heart grow fonder?

fuck.

you bite your pillow and steer your mind clear of anything else.

nagi will probably forget about you after this whole blue lock thing anyway. it’s better to get used to being on your own now.

“a match?”

“yes,” reo’s voice says over the phone. there’s a cheer of teen boys echoing, and reo apologizes, saying he’ll leave the locker room. “you’ve seen the news, right?”

no, you haven’t. “that’s… cool!” you don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. “with who?”

“come watch us play, idiot,” reo chuckles; he knows you’ll say yes sooner or later, and you hate that you know he’s right. “didn’t you miss us?”

it’s only today that you and reo started talking again. he says he’s been busy, and you tell him it’s fine because so were you. but meeting him again tomorrow when it’s been so long since you’ve even spoken? you’re not sure if that’s fine.

“i… don’t know.” you glance at the date displayed on your screen, considering. “tomorrow, was it?”

you really have been busy. you’re not sure if you can take it if the stress of life adds up to the stress upon seeing nagi’s stupidly handsome face.

“yup. you should see nagi, man; he’s been really awesome lately.”

just the mention is enough to seize your heart and sway you. you scowl, and judging by the smile you can hear from reo, he did it on purpose.

“i’ll see if i’m free, i suppose,” you sigh, falling on your mattress to frown at the ceiling. “how have you been, reo?”

when reo launches into a ramble about all the events that went down, you let him. you smile and freely admit that you did miss them more than you can bring yourself to admit. it’s a bandage for a bullet wound.

“fuck.”

you weave through the crowd and halls with as much speed as possible. your ankles ache and protest with each step, but you ignore it. your heart beats and echoes in your ears, berating you for this stupid decision, but you ignore it.

the crowd erupts into deafening cheers, and you wince, scrambling to pick up your pace. the speakers from the corners of the wall announce the winners, and they scream and howl again.

“fuck, fuck.”

you’re late.

the worst part is, you can’t make them treat you to dinner for the stress this is giving you because they’re the ones who won.

when you finally reach the door, there’s already a string of people leaving, talking among themselves animatedly. you hear names, straining your ear when someone mentions reo, nagi, nagi, nagi.

the stadium is slowly filling out, and guilt eats you right up for missing even the winning shot. but you were too busy being indecisive not to be late when ( eventually ) leaving the house.

it’s fine. if nagi won’t care about you, then at least reo is there. he invited you, and you won’t lie that you also came to watch your best friend. ( you ignore the bitterness in your chest. )

“y/n!”

you perk up at the sound of reo’s voice, unable to fight the smile off your face when he comes running straight your way.

“come down here!” he calls out, grinning wide. there’s something different about it, though you’re not sure what it is exactly. was it the confidence he’s exuding? the sureness of himself?

you make your way to where he can reach you and gasp when his sweaty ass comes to hug you.

“gross, gross,” you hiss, trying to slap his arms away. “don’t slobber all over me.”

reo laughs, “you’re also all sweaty. did you just arrive?”

you grimace. “sorry. i was being an idiot overthinking again.” you smile at him, and hope you can convey that you really are happy seeing him again. “congrats on winning, reo. i’m proud.”

he sighs, shaking his head fondly. “well, whatever. at least you still visited. we missed you.”

we, huh? 

reo smirks, noticing immediately when you try to search for a certain white-haired boy discreetly.

panic fills you when reo cups his hands around his mouth. “wait, don’t call him—”

“oi, nagi!” reo turns to his left, and your eyes immediately find a home in nagi’s.

your breath catches in your throat when nagi’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly. strands of hair are sticking out from his head, and his nose is all burnt from the heat. his lips part to speak, but he shakes his head instead.

then, he’s jogging towards you.

nagi seishiro is jogging towards you. christ, that’s kind of terrifying.

“hey.” you hold your hands up protectively over your body. “hey, hey, don’t—”

nagi hugs you, trapping you in his embrace, and the words die on your tongue. you don’t know what’s worse: registering the cackle reo is letting out or the fact that nagi doesn’t actually smell, and you find comfort in his warmth.

“you came,” he breathes.

you blink up at him, wilting under his stare. “well. reo said i could.”

nagi’s brows knit together subtly, and you almost grin in victory. 

“i missed you,” nagi says, squeezing you in his grasp, “a lot.”

you look at him, and realize that it’s not just reo who’s changed. nagi is staring straight at you, in your eyes, and he isn’t wavering or shying away when you stare back. his eyes are alight with conviction.

suddenly, your mouth goes dry. “i—i missed you, too, nagi.”

something in nagi’s eyes shift.

this is what you wanted: for nagi to be forward, to take what he wants, say what is on his mind, but you weren’t expecting it to melt you in a puddle like this.

“hey,” you tug his arm, face in flames, “i think your teammates are calling you—”

“you came for reo,” nagi murmurs, inching closer, “you’ll stay for me.”

and, wow, okay. you need a bit to process that.

before you can respond, though, his lips meet yours and keep you there.

your heart lurches in your throat. for a second, you could only stare wide-eyed, frozen, but upon seeing the flush on nagi’s ears and the hesitant press of his lips; you let yourself melt into him. his arms tighten around you when you sling your arms over his neck.

when you start to feel a little lightheaded, you pull away, and he chases after you, pouting slightly.

“why did—” you heave, catching your breath. “why did you just kiss me like that?”

“you don’t mind,” nagi says, kissing the side of your mouth as if to coax you back into kissing him again.

“i don’t,” you agree. and frown. “why do you think so?”

this kiss will mean nothing until you can hear him say it.

“because you like me,” nagi says; there’s a dangerous glint in his eye.

“you don’t mind?”

“i don’t.” nagi smiles against your mouth. “because i like you, too.”

sorry if this is a mess!!!!!! this was supposed to be like 500 words (and was supposed to end on a bad note) but it kept flowing out of me so i just let it be 😭😭🙏

[luveline]

Can I request Eddie and R tending to each other’s wounds (given they both survive the demobats in the UD)?

ty <3 fem!reader, 1.4k 

cw canon typical violence

“You’re sweating like crazy.” 

“Eddie, that’s the sort of thing you don’t say to a girl,” you say, hands shaking hard as you ruffle through the duffle bag at your side. Your knees burn like they’re on fire, your arms raked with claw marks, but Eddie’s been minced. If you hadn’t climbed your way back to him with the makeshift flamethrower at his feet, Eddie would probably be dead. Scorched demobat is a gross smell. 

“What are you so scared of? It’s like, running down your cheek,” he says. 

“Shut up,” you say, glancing back, hoping Dustin will be right behind you. You hadn’t stopped to make sure he was alright. What if he’s hurt too? “Seriously, just don’t talk. You’re gonna bleed to death and die and your last words are gonna be about how sweaty I am.” 

You peel back a soaked square of gauze from his waist and smash a clean one overtop to soak up the pooling blood. Eddie gasps in agony, writhing away from your touch, but to his credit, his voice is strong as he says, “Shit, true. I can make them better. How about, um… oh. You’re smoking. Like, seriously gorgeous. That better?” 

Your eyes sting as you turn your face to your shoulder, cupping his cheek, his blood wet on your fingers and staining his skin red. “How would you know? It’s dark out.” 

“I’ve seen your face in the light hundreds of times. I know what I’m talking about.” 

He would’ve been turned to mulch without your rescuing. There are split cuts all over him, it’s awful, and you won’t be able to fix him yourself here, but you don’t have to. You just need to stop his bleeding and help him deal with the pain until Dustin makes it through. The two of you can drag him to safety. 

Maybe the best way to do that is to let him tease you. “You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, pressing another piece of gauze over this second one, wincing when he lets out a pained gasp. 

“Are you kidding?” 

“I thought you liked, you know, the really pretty girls, like–”

“You are a really pretty girl, are you kidding? Don’t fish for compliments.” 

You shake your head, laughing, half-terrified. The blood isn’t slowing. “Eddie, I have to press down harder, okay? I’m sorry.” 

“Just do it,” he says. You dig the heel of your palm into his side. “Fuck!” 

“You’re really not gonna like this next part,” you warn, pushing his legs flat to the floor. 

You climb over his thighs and sit on his lap, hand twisted to cover his wound and the other peeling the paper covering off of another sterile square of gauze. Eddie swears like a sailor as you squeeze down, the majority of your upper weight being pressed to his open wounds. It would be an uncomfortable sensation without the cuts. You know it’s torture. 

“Oh, god,” he says, “I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“That’s a great reaction,” you say, lifting the edge of the leftmost gauze. The blood pools but doesn’t gush down his side. You sigh in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Maybe don’t say stuff like that sitting on my crotch.” 

“Are you for real?” You meet his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re really thinking about your dick right now?” 

“Of course not, I’m a gentleman, but you’re kind of on top of me and it’s been a really hard week.” 

You burst out laughing. He gags in pain and turns away. 

The cavalry arrives not long after that, though it feels like hours. Together, somehow, you drag Eddie back to the gate, and things get a little blurry after that. 

—

You’ve never been so tired in your life as you are right now, but you’re so relieved that the world has taken on a golden quality, and Eddie looks golden too. 

His hair is wet. You think Wayne might’ve washed it for him over the bath; it’s been greasy for a week while his stitches started to heal up, and he spent it in Steve’s bed. The only good thing about having absent parents apparently is being able to harbour a fugitive without being noticed, and anybody else who couldn’t go home without explaining their injuries. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks. 

“Mm.” You scrunch up into yourself on the couch, cradling your arm where it aches to your chest. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day. Figured I’d make sure you weren’t in a coma.” You think about poor Max. He must see your wavering expression, sitting on the couch by your legs with an apologetic smile. “She’s doing even better today. Sinclair thinks she was squeezing his finger, so that’s something.” 

“Can’t believe all that stuff really happened,” you mumble, the blanket pulled over your chin muffling your voice. It’s a wonder he can hear you. 

“Feels fake, right? I keep forgetting about it when I wake up, and then I have to stand and feel my stomach try to split open and remember I was bat chow.” He nods to your arm. “Still hurting?” 

It’s nothing compared to his. Your cuts didn’t need stitching, but the were deep still. You’ve only had the butterfly bandages taken off yesterday. The skin aches where the scar tissue is forming. “Sort of itchy,” you say.

“Yeah?” He pulls a little white tube from his pyjama pants hesitantly. “Maybe I can help?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Non disclosed ointment. Pretty sure it’s the good stuff from Mike’s girl’s government friends.” 

They’re gonna clear Eddie’s name, apparently. So far they’ve done a whole lot of nothing while Hawkins falls apart around you. Well, besides the drugs. They’ve given out plenty of painkillers. 

Eddie shuffles closer to you and takes your arm into his hand. “Her name is Eleven,” you say. 

“I know.” He pushes your sleeve up over the bump of your elbow to expose the worst of your scarring. 

You think he’s aware of what you did that day to save him. He’s been achingly nice to you since he woke up. Even when he couldn’t walk, he’d been shouting down the stairs from Steve’s room to check if you were alright on the couch. Usually met with a chorus of Shut the fuck ups, it had been sweet, if a little embarrassing to have to call back. I’m okay. Thanks! 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says. 

You watch him uncap the ointment and squeeze a ball of it onto his finger. It’s semi-translucent, smelling of arnica with a bit of kick to it. He turns your wrist gently in one hand and begins to trace the lines of your scars one by one, as gentle as anyone’s ever touched you, his pinky finger suspended and shaky as he draws toward the crook of your elbow.

“Well, don’t leave me waiting,” you say eventually. 

“Right, just. I’m trying to be braver. It’s not working in my favour yet.” 

You laugh. “No, really?” 

“But you saved my life. Everybody knows it. You and Henderson saved me, and I can’t make it up to you. This,” —he smooths ointment over the ridge of your cruellest scar— “is permanent. And scaring you like that, I mean. I shouldn’t have gone back in, and I should have kept running, it was selfish, trying to do a good thing and…” He holds your arm in his hands and meets your eyes. You don’t see a trace of the shrill, loud boy you’d spent the last two weeks with. “Getting you hurt.” 

“I got hurt trying to save the world,” you say. “‘Cos, you know, not everything’s about you…” 

His smile is slow as molasses and doubly sweet as he wraps his arm behind your shoulders. He’s careful, you’re both fragile right now, but he squeezes you and laughs warmly against your ear and he’s back to the Eddie you remember. “Everything is about me. It’s totally about me, babe, and you’re just jealous.”

He rubs your back. 

“You know,” he adds, hand trialling lazily to the small of your back, where it stays, “I wouldn’t be here without you. So if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling back. He kisses your cheek as he does, his hands falling on top of yours. “Alright. You’re still smoking hot, you know that? The scars are sick. You’re cool now.” 

Your fingers twitch against his palm. “Thanks, Eddie.” 

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 2 ⬅ ch. 1

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. drinking. wc 2.3k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | so glad you're all liking the story so far! hope you like this chapter as well. like i mentioned before, i havent actually played this game lmao so pls excuse any plot inaccuracies. i'm going off of wikipedia and lets plays of the game on youtube. there will definitely be plot points that don't quite line up with the actual game. oh and just fyi, i do not have a tag list. sorry!!

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you awoke the following morning with a splitting headache, someone shaking you back and forth only increasing the pain. you squinted your eyes open to see your friend leaning over you. 

“what?” you said through gritted teeth, not holding back any snark. 

“smith and jamerson got pulled into something early this morning. you’re the only medic on base and gaz is bleeding out in the infirmary.”

you shot up in bed, almost slamming foreheads with your friend. “shit. why didn’t you start with that?” you hissed, stumbling out of bed and blindly yanking on clothes.

it didn’t take you long to appear in the cold and barren infirmary, a laughing gaz stretched out on a bed filling your vision when you came storming in. 

he was laughing?  

“gaz,” you began, approaching him. he looked away from ghost, who had apparently been bearable enough to make kyle laugh whilst ‘bleeding out’. 

gaz mimicked you and repeated your name, a stupid grin on his face. 

“i was told you were bleeding out,” you said with a bit of annoyance on your tongue as you slowly strolled up to the man. 

“well, i am bleeding,” he said, holding his hand up, poorly wrapped in white linen that had turned a rusty red. 

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, turning it over in your own. “did you do this?” you asked, referring to the shitty bandage job. 

“not bad, right?” he said with a cheeky grin.

“you’ve got to be kidding, gaz,” your fingers came up to grip the bridge of your nose. “look at it. it's so loose that dirt and debris have gotten into it. you’ll get an infection if i don’t redo it.” you shook your head. “how long has it been like this?”

“several hours, i think.” gaz looked at ghost who ever so slightly shook with a silent laugh. “i dont know, i think i did a pretty fabulous job, but if you insist.” his words were soft and airy and you cocked a brow at him. 

“he’s doped up,” ghost’s guttural voice said from beside you. that would explain gaz’s nonchalance. “got properly decked in the ribs. wouldn’t be surprised if he broke a couple.”

your eyes narrowed at gaz. “gaz,” you said exhaustedly with a hint of reprimand. he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes and you stifled a giggle. 

you went to work on gaz, checking his ribs for fractures and cleaning and rebandaging his hand. you were trying excruciatingly hard to not think about ghost’s eyes on you as you moved about the room. you could feel his glare like flames licking your skin.

finished with gaz, you switched gears and went to ghost’s bedside. he had refused to sit still and had his feet hanging over the edge while he cleaned one of his guns. he looked up at you and you could have sworn you saw something like reverence in his eyes. 

you went to change ghost’s bandages now, gaz already snoring behind you, making you smile to yourself. 

“goin’ back t’my room today,” ghost told you.

“that’s not a good idea, l.t.” you gently nudged his chest and he sat the gun down beside him and laid back. your fingertips lit like a match at just the small physical contact. 

“well good thing I wasn’t askin’.”

why did he always have to be so blunt? you grit your teeth as you finished up, avoiding any unnecessary contact with his skin. 

“i’ll only need to keep an eye on you the next two days. just to make sure there's no infection. then it’s easy sailing from there. i’ll show you how to clean–”

“i’m not daft. been hurt before. didn’t have some medic on call then, either.”

some medic. you weren’t sure why that stung. you felt stupid all of a sudden; of course he’s been injured before. he likely knew the drill like the back of his hand. you suspected under all his gear there were battle wounds that would take a full day just for him to go over the story behind each one.

“well, only two more days with me. then i’ll be out of your hair,” you mumbled.

you felt pathetic for wanting him to reply. to assure you that you didn’t annoy him or that he didn’t mind seeing you. but he just remained silent until you turned and left the room. 

you found soap later that day digging through papers sprawled out on the coffee table before him. “didn’t know you could read,” you teased. 

he looked up at you with a grin. you stood behind him to get a look at what he was reading. “jus’ goin’ over the dossier for our next mission.”

“ our ?” you questioned.

“since you’re the only medic available at the moment. yes, you’ll be coming along for the ride.”

“oh, don’t i feel so special,” you said sarcastically. 

“i woulda asked for you regardless.”

“didn’t know you could make medic requests.”

“ya can’t.”

you collapsed next to him on the couch, sighing before you glazed over the words on the sheets. 

“wait, ‘Hassan’?” you said perking up and pointing to the man’s name. “this seems serious.” you looked at soap with concern. 

“not gonna be an easy one, that’s for sure.”

“but, soap, i can barely use a gun, let alone fight. this seems like i might get killed if…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to race. you weren’t used to going along for intimate missions like this. you usually were held back at base or brought alongside a slew of other medics. but with everyone else gone… 

“don’t worry, lass,” he said bumping your shoulder with his own. “we’ll get ya trained up. it’s not for another two weeks when Hassan should be in Al Mazrah.”

that didn’t exactly make you feel any better. these men have been training their whole life. and you got two weeks?

soap could see the worry spread across your visage. “you’ll have me, gaz, price, and ghost to protect ya.”

“no,” you shook your head. “i can’t become a liability. you guys will have far more important things to focus on.”

“yer not a liability . we need you. there's a good chance that if we capture Hassan, he’ll be hurt. it’s crucial we keep him alive.”

“and that’s where i come in,” you said gloomily. 

“you’re there for us too,” he said smiling at you. soap always did appreciate everything the medics did for the team. he never treated you any differently than the other soldiers. you leaned against him, your heart racing at the idea of what was to come. 

it was late at night when ghost was due for another cleaning. you made it to his door and softly knocked. you paused a moment but didn’t hear anything in return so you quietly pushed the door open. 

the room was dark but you could see the faint silhouette of ghost hunched over on the edge of his bed. your hand hit the wall, searching for the light switch.

“wait,” his deep voice rumbled. you paused all movement and heard the soft rustle of fabric as ghost shuffled. you saw the illuminated outline of him as he pulled his mask over his face. your heart skipped a beat realizing he was sitting in here without it on. “okay.”

you ticked the light switch and met his eyes immediately. he had on his thin balaclava as opposed to the usual hard plastic of his skull mask. it felt like he was naked.

“why don’t you let anyone see you?” you asked timidly. 

“why do you wanna see so bad?” he retorted, clearly already irritated with you. 

“i..” you paused, thinking momentarily. “it’s not that i want to see what you look like. but don’t you find it, i don’t know,” you gestured your hands around nervously, “a bit lonely?”

“lonely?”

“i feel like i’d be lonely if i was always guarded.”

ghost appraised you for a moment, making you squirm uncomfortably. “well, i’m not lonely,” he grunted. okay, end of conversation, you thought. 

you shifted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, “right. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean–”

“quit fuckin’ apologizing.”

you sucked in a sharp breath. “okay. sor–” before you could finish your sentence you stopped yourself. 

you watched ghost roll his eyes. why did upsetting him make you feel so disconcerted? you tried to wipe your face of all expression but you knew he would be able to tell his words wounded you. it wasn’t fair– he could read everything on your face, but all he gave you was his eyes.

you bit your lip then approached him, wanting to get this over with. “if you wanna take off your shirt,” you said absentmindedly as you set your med bag down on his bed beside him. 

he sat back slightly and hiked up his shirt, obviously not wanting to remove it fully. you weren’t sure why, but that made your face heat. it was a statement you’ve made a thousand times to men who had injuries on their torso or when you had to examine their chest. you hadn’t even thought about it when you said it. but when ghost clearly didn’t want to completely shed his clothes, you felt embarrassed, like you had asked for too much. and in a way, he was right. he didn’t need to completely be bare-chested for you to work on him. the wound was quite low on his abdomen. 

you swallowed your embarrassment and cleaned and rebandaged his stitches. you saw an array of goosebumps rise on ghost’s skin from your featherlight touches as you worked. you finished quickly before shoving all your supplies forcibly in your med bag. you needed out of there asap. 

you threw your bag on your shoulder and went to leave when ghost’s bare hands grabbed your wrist. he twirled you so effortlessly to face him again that it almost infuriated you. 

you sucked in a breath of air as you looked at him a bit dumbfounded. ghost thought for a moment, his hand still firmly around your wrist. 

“i don’t mean to be such an arse,” he grunted.

in a breathy tone you spoke back, “it’s fine. i don’t think that, you’re just—“

he cut you off. “no. i don’t have to be so fuckin' upfront with you all the time. you’re just tryin’ to do your job. i gotta remind myself your not one of my men.”

you nodded, holding in the hurt that echoed through you. he was being upfront with you? what did that mean? that he regrets just being honest? that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. you hated yourself for wanting him to say something along the lines of him just lashing out and he didn’t mean the shit he said to you. but he did mean the shit he said, he just regretted saying it out loud.

“not one of your men, right,” you repeated back. you weren’t one of his men. you were just a starstruck woman who had no fucking business working with the most elite men in the world. awesome. 

ghost’s eyes darted between yours as if he wanted to say something more. that maybe he didn’t like the sullen tone you used when repeating his words back to him. as if he might have actually not intended for that implication. you could have sworn you saw his lips move under his mask like he was contemplating telling you he didn’t mean it like that.

but he was silent. 

“really. it’s fine,” you mumbled. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” 

ghost breathed your name, all too easily deciphering the hurt in your words. you wanted to bash your head against the wall for being so obvious. he was right. you weren’t meant for this line of work. you were too soft.

oh my god, were you going to cry?!

you ignored the flutter in your belly when he said your name and scurried out of the room, wanting to drown out your embarrassment with a swig of whiskey. this seemed to be a pattern with you two–ghost saying something a bit too real, you getting hurt and running out of the room like a baby.

you found soap back where you left him and you waltzed over to him with a bottle of whiskey in hand. he looked up at you and gave you a cheeky grin. 

his smile shifted to something of concern when you deflated next to him on the sectional. 

“ghost give ya a hard time?” 

“no,” you lied. “just been a long day.”

soap took the bottle from you and took a drag. “long week, more like it.” 

you chuckled before taking a sip. you passed the bottle back and forth a few more times until your body buzzed and your mouth wouldn’t let you swallow any more of the foul liquid.

“how do you guys drink this shit?” you asked, making a face of disgust.

“years of self-hatred,” he grinned.

you slouched against him. 

“do you think i’m cut out for this? 

he flipped through the pages of the dossier before glancing at you. “cut out for what?”

you gestured around you. “this. working with you guys. working for the best of the best.”

“'course i fuckin’ do.” he gave you a quizzical look. “why would you even ask that?”

you shrugged, keeping your eyes off of him.

your name escaped his lips making you finally look up at him. “you’re here for a reason. price doesn’t let just anyone join his team. i’ve seen what you can do, lass. you’re part of the best of the best .”

you smiled making him grin at you in return. “no more of this shit, okay?” he said softly, his scottish accent getting heavier the more he drank. you found it comforting.

“okay,” you agreed. 

“now, lets find price so we can steal all his money with a few games of cards,” he said, lightly tapping your shoulder with his fist.

you laughed knowing good and well price could beat the two of you blindfolded.

chapter 3 ➡

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Doctor's Orders

Blue Jones x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 18: Dacryphilia

Summary: Blue's been sent to an asylum himself for his crimes.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). Once again, what have I done?

Warnings: oh dead, blood, injuries (Blue gets cut by an orderly), Blue having a bit of a blood kink, Blue being a masochist, p in v sex, kissing, swearing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1209

Blue whines, tears streaming down his face. There’s blood in his mouth from his split bottom lip. He struggles on the bed, his wrists and ankles strapped down. 

The orderly gives him a gruesome smile and then starts slicing into his side with a scalpel. 

Blue screams, swears and growls. “You fucking-”

“Oh, come on,” the orderly tuts, “I’ve read ‘bout all those things you’ve done, all those things you did to those girls. You think this is any different?” 

Blue shrieks his throat raw, thrashing. 

“Shouldn’t have spat on me in line today, Jones.” He giggles. 

“Let me the fuck out.” 

“Language.” He tuts, “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“I-”

The door to Blue’s room opens with a slam, and the orderly jumps, the scalpel drops to the floor. 

He freezes when he sees you, arms crossed. 

“Doc, I… I can explain.” He holds his hands up, visibly shaking. 

“Sutton,” you clench your jaw. “What do you think you’re doing here?” 

“I… I…” 

“Torturing patients.” You shake your head as you step into the room, three orderlies follow you. Blue recognises them as part of your ‘personal guard’. “Take him to Dr Bateman.” 

Sutton gasps, shaking his head rapidly. “No, please, no! I didn’t, you can’t-”

The other orderlies grab his arms. 

“Oh, I can’t?” You ask, the sound of your voice is almost kind. 

He swallows, tears in his eyes. “Please.” 

You nod your head to the side and your orderlies drag him screaming from the room. Slowly you shut the door and turn back to Blue. 

You take him in for a moment, the cut on his side, the tears in his eyes, how he’s rubbed his wrists raw trying to escape. 

He sniffs and gives you a soft look. “Thanks, Doc. ��Preciate it.” 

He lays limp as you walk over and quietly untie his wrists and ankles. 

“What did you do to Sutton?” 

He pauses, anxiety twisting in his belly, “I spat on him in line up.” 

You smile and Blue laughs once. 

Lightly, you touch around the cut. It’s not deep thankfully. “I’ll take you to medical.”

Blue groans and takes a sharp gasp of breath. “Wait, Doc.” He grabs your wrist and presses your hand firmer, makes your fingers skate across the wound. He shivers. 

You pause and then look at his dark eyes and the quickly hardening bulge in his asylum issued sweats. “This turn you on?” You ask with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

He moans, louder this time as you press firmer against the cut, blood oozing over your fingers. 

“A bit,” he bites his lip. “That and,” he swallows, “You coming in on a white horse to save me.” 

“I’ll have to add this to your masochist notes.” You said deadpan, and press harder. 

He swears under his breath, wriggling as his cock fills dizzyingly quickly. “I can see it in your face, you like it too.” 

“I never said I wasn’t a sadist.” You smile.

“You like it, like seeing me crying and bleeding all over the place. Like seeing me weak.” He leans up, kissing you roughly. “Like it that I’m at your mercy.” 

“Did you ever think that I like it when you’re excited?” You bite his bottom lip and he groans, his eyes rolling back. 

“Please fuck me, however you want. Get your fingers wet with my blood and then shove them up my ass, I don’t fucking care.” 

You grab his jaw, holding him in place as he wriggles and writhes excitedly. 

“If you don’t behave, I’ll send you to Dr Bateman too.” 

Blue moans. “Fuck, yes.” He shivers as you push him back down onto the bed and fully pull off his t-shirt. “Did he watch the last video?” 

“He did.” You pull down his sweats.

“Did he like it?” Blue asks eagerly. 

You smile. “Very much.” 

“You think he’ll watch this one?” He keeps his eyes fixed on you eagerly as you climb on top of him, straddling his hips and pulling your skirt up around your waist. 

“I’m sure of it.” 

Blue whines, reaching out to squeeze your thighs and caress your bare pussy. “Fuck.” He glides his fingers through your folds, groaning louder at the wetness he finds. “Can you sit on my face?” 

“After.”

He shivers and nods eagerly. “I’ll clean you up, I promise.” 

“Good boy Blue,” you mutter and smile when he moans. You raise yourself up and take his hot, hard length in hand, lining yourself up before you sink down. 

Blue screams out, digging his fingers into your inner thighs, his toes curling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You grin at him as he whines, pressing hard against the cut once more as you grind and bounce. 

Swears fall endlessly out of his mouth, so fast it doesn’t seem like he is drawing breath. 

“Good?”

“So good Doc, so fucking good. This pussy’s gonna kill me.” He gasps, rocking with you. 

“Tell me why this,” you dig your finger into his wound slightly and he moans sweetly, “is so good?”

“Just issss.” Blue bucks up unthinkingly, his body moving on autopilot. 

You press deeper and he jolts, nearly coming on the spot. “Tell me.”

He whines desperately, fresh tears in his eyes. 

You slow your hip, take your hand away from him.

“Nooo, no, no, no, no,” he grabs at your hand, trying to press it back to his side as he jerks his lips. 

You give him a light smack around the face as he moans low.

“Again Doc, please.”

“If you’re not going to tell me why, then I’ve had enough of your speaking.” You say firmly. 

He groans again, whining, and you shove your bloody fingers into his mouth.

His eyes widen, his tongue flicking against your skin as you push them further in. The sounds he lets out are sinful as he sucks, rolling and rocking as you move with him. 

You press your thumb against his bloody lip and he sobs in pleasure as the split widens. He tenses, his eyes rolling back slightly and you know he’s close. 

You pull your fingers from his mouth with a pop and lightly smack his face, hitting the opposite cheek.

“Doc, dooccc,” he whimpers. “Gonna come, I can’t,” he cries out when you lean forward and grab his chin, squeezing his jaw until he opens his mouth wide with a sob. 

He holds his tongue out and you spit into his mouth. Blue swallows eagerly, your saliva mixing with the blood from his lip and the weight in his stomach snaps. 

Pleasure paralysis him as he comes, pumping hot and thick deep inside you until he feels lightheaded from screaming. 

He collapses completely onto the bed, going limp for a second as he breathes hard and sweat rolls down his skin.

You stroke his face, kissing his temple and murmuring soft words in his ear. 

“Doc,” he takes hold of your arm, his voice groggy, “Come sit on my face, you haven’t had a good time yet.” 

“Shh,” you soothe, patting his hair. “We can do that in a minute, I want you to relax first.”

“Doc-”

“Doctor’s orders.” 

He smiles softly at your stern tone and presses his face further into your touch. 

Thank you for reading!

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[mischiefmaker615]

Go Away

Summary: Enemies to Lovers 

Rating: R 

Requested By: Daddy_Dracos_Slut (wattpad)

Note: Sorry for the long wait, real life stuff can be a pain sometimes but i hope the length of this one makes up for it *sweats*

i curse under my breath as the elevator seems extra rough going up the floors today. my hand clutches the rail while i keep my eyes closed, focusing my energy on my breathing rather than my stab wound that left a pretty nasty gash on my side. What happened?

SHIELD loves to throw me into fights they know they don’t have enough man power for. Why? “Your training should be enough to help you handle it just fine” okay dip shit- not against HYDRA! The mission was successful but of course they had to throw in a rookie for me to bring along as well. Result? Saving their ass cost me the next couple of days to heal.

“you should go to the medical bay-‘’

‘’it’s fine, I’ll just have Loki heal it.’’ the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

There was no way in hell i wanted to get near the psycho that attacked New York, but i hid my resentment well for SHIELD to buy my answer and not force me into a pointlessly long medical appointment.

Ironically as soon as i arrived back at the tower, the ‘not so bad’ wound in my side decided to give me a lot more pain than what i was originally feeling earlier. i probably just needed to clean it and it would be good as new.

Finally the elevator granted me the mercy of reaching my floor and i got out, my body crouched and hunched as i took a deep breath and looked around. No one around.. good. i didn’t like to show weakness, even though in this business you all get hurt, its nothing new, but my stubborn ass still tried to tough it out. Which is why as soon as i heard someone coming, i sucked in a breath and straightened up to my height, making sure my jacket was hiding my blood-stained shirt while Loki turned the corner, and we both shared the same expression. Of course, he probably didn’t enjoy my company just as much as i did for him, but he still took the opportunity to tease me whenever he could to get a reaction.

‘’why are you walking like that?’’ he asked, just a question, no concern in his voice.

‘’why do you look like that.’’ i say as i took a scrolling pace down the halls while he pressed the button to the elevator. i didn’t even look back at him but i felt his eyes on me.

‘’you’re hurt.’’

‘’and you care?’’

Loki’s eyes narrowed as i cast a glance over my shoulder at him in annoyance. ‘’I wish to make sure you are in proper health so you can get out of my way in a sufficient pace.’’

‘’oh, you do care.’’ i say in a sweet voice, placing a dramatic hand on my heart for effect which only revealed my bloody shirt where his eyes flicked down. i could have sworn his gaze changed to something else.. but for a split second until he looked like an asshole again.

‘’you’re bleeding.’’

Now, a sarcastic comment would have just proven he was right. Not that he would tell anyone, he probably didn’t care. this was all just probably going to be used to call me a weak mortal or whatever who doesn’t know how to properly fight. So the only unfortunate answer that spilled out of my mouth was ‘’spilled ketchup.’’ Smooth.

His eyes slowly traveled down to the ‘ketchup stain’ again before they flicked back up to mine. ‘’hmm.’’ He hummed, turning back to the open doors now for the elevator before his gaze could get a chance to make me nervous- wait what?

I make sure I walk as casually as possible, regardless of how painful it may be until I heard the elevator doors close before I hunch over again and draw in a sharp breath and resist the urge to clutch my side. Judgy bastard.. looking at me as if I’m scum in his way.. but what was that split second look? Never mind- just need to get the first aid kit and see exactly what I’m dealing with.

After it seems forever until I get into my room, I shut the door behind me and throw my jacket to the side, glad to have it off before I fold the end of my shirt up so it was over my chest, almost like a make-shift crop top. Damn.. it’s pretty deep, going to need minor stitches.. clean it up..

I slowly make my way now to the bathroom, my balance thrown off with the lack of blood and I could already tell before my eyes hit the mirror how pale I am. Nausea comes in mild waves as well but anger and frustration takes over when I open up the cabinet to find my first aid kit was missing. What the hell! I used it a couple days ago and I’m to OCD to not put things back..

I run a hand through my hair as I think about what I need to do. We have vodka at Tony’s bar downstairs, it’s the best thing we have currently to clean a wound. Another first aid kit in the kitchen, not to far from the bar cabinet. Not to bad- if people weren’t awake. I check my phone, it’s 8pm. Its usually quiet and people head to bed in 30 minutes do to the fact that we need proper rest in this field.

Grabbing a small towel, I run it over warm water and nearly cry out as I begin cleaning what I could, pain shooting through my body as I push through until I feel like I would faint. Setting the towel aside, I carefully.. carefully manage to change my shirt but put on an actual crop top so nothing had its change at touching my new body scar soon-to-be. Only 10 minutes pass.. 20 might be to long as I stay on the bed trying to control my breathing. I’m stupid, I know..

Once I check the time and hear more doors close in the hall, indicating people are hitting the hay, I go over to the door. No point in hiding the wound if everyone is in bed and the less clothes I ruin the better. However I nearly woke the whole house if I didn’t shove a hand over my mouth to find Loki waiting outside my door, leaning on the wall with a now smirk by my reaction.

‘’the hell are you doing here like a creeper?’’ I hiss at him but realize hiding the wound was to late as his eyes dropped and so did his expression as he straightened.

‘’norns Y/N- how did you manage that?’’ somehow there was no emotional indication in his voice, let alone his expression so I shrugged to see if he was actually concerned or about to laugh.

Figured there was no use hiding as I walk around him with a hand on the wall to support myself. ‘’comes with the job sometimes.’’

‘’and I’m sure they taught you how to properly take care of it- which is why it’s strange that you find yourself here’’ he says and walked along side me, making me raise a brow in wonder at why he was following.

‘’I can take care of myself, thanks.’’ Sarcasm was potent as I side eyed him, indicating I wished to be left alone before my body jolted at a wave of pain, making me practically double over with my nails digging into the wall.

‘’you need a doctor-‘’ Loki started, his hands quickly returning to their sides as I took a sharp breath and looked at him.

‘’I said I’ll be-‘’

‘’Y/N!’’ Barton greeted as he turned the corner, his smile fading as he glanced at Loki before he smiled again at me. ‘’you should have been here hours ago- I thought he would have healed you by now-‘’

‘’I don’t know what you are talking about-‘’ I panic, giving him a sharp look to shut up while Loki raised a brow.

‘’earlier when you said you’d just ask Loki to-‘’

‘’I’m handling it Clint, I’ll see you tomorrow though good as new’’ I fake smile, looking like I’m about to punch him as I feel Loki’s eyes on me in amusement.

‘’don’t you worry Agent Barton, she’s in good hands.’’ He said gently, lacing his fingers behind his back as Barton gives him a hard look.

‘’I’ll see you tomorrow then Y/N’’ he says, never really registering Loki whenever they did have to speak and brushed past him on his way to his own room. Most of the time that type of rude contact would have earned an almost-fight between Loki and Clint, but I suppose Loki found himself to busy smirking at me to really be concerned about it.

‘’so what is it exactly you wished to ask me Y/N?’’ Loki said sweetly, milking the opportunity to tease me as I roll my eyes and make my way down the halls towards the elevator before I could be any more embarrassed.

‘’go away.’’

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he watched me walk away from him but I busied myself with waiting for the damn doors to open. I heard nothing behind me, and I made the mistake to believe he had actually listened so to my annoyance, he slipped into the elevator with me before the doors could close.

‘’you were going to ask me to heal you?’’ he asked, no emotion indicated in his voice as I made myself busy by pressing the correct floor.

‘’I merely said that to have everyone off my back, apparently it seems to be doing quite the opposite.’’ I mutter and lean myself against the wall, drawing my eyes closed as I focused on my breathing.

Even with my eyes closed, I could tell Loki was staring at me. He’s annoying, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be half bad of a person if it wasn’t for the fact that he attacked new York. That’s probably where our enemy relationship stems from.. could I be nicer? Sure, he just.. draws something out of me.. he’s not a bad looking guy either, my emotions run different when I’m around him compared to the others. Tony teased me once and called it denial of something perhaps more I was feeling towards him, but there was no way I would have fallen for someone that attacked-

‘’if you would just let me heal you then perhaps your mind will stop being so loud.’’

My eyes snap open as Loki rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. If it wasn’t for the damn gash in my side, I probably would have killed him right then and there as I gawked at him.

‘’the fuck were you-‘’

‘’Y/N,’’ he starts, sincerity in his eyes and voice that somehow made me still. ‘’yes I’ve done those things in the past, I should hope that the time I have been spending here has given me a good chance to have changed and perhaps provided a door for a fresh start..’’ he starts, his eyes darting to the floor and slowly back at me as my muscles tensed by another wave and I hold my side, staying silent still. ‘’I do not blame you for your negative emotions towards me, and I am not asking for a second chance,.. all I’m asking is to just heal you.’’

My eyes slowly travel up to his after they had descended to the floor. God of lies, it was taught to tell if he was being honest or not. Though honestly, what did you have to lose? Nausea was already hitting your gut and light headedness was already reminding me how much blood I was losing. Yet the fact of the matter is,..

‘’..why do you care?’’

Loki almost genuinely smiled and I noticed his muscles were straining. Raising a brow, I noticed the elevator had not once moved since the doors had been closed. My eyes were next to narrow at him.

‘’what are you-‘’

‘’ask me Y/N.’’

I blink at him, knowing exactly what he wants me to ask but even now he’s being a stubborn ass??

He gave me a look at the name and I immediately just decided to focus on the pain instead to block him out. He was just as stubborn as I was, there was no point in asking him about the elevator, let alone avoiding the question. Taking a deep breath, I clutched my side and looked at him with all the dignity I was clinging on too.

‘’fine.. w-would you-‘’

My words cut short when my vision blacked out and all I remember is falling to the ground.

~

A cold hand pressed to my forehead, the temperature feeling cool where I practically lean into the touch before opening my eyes.

And then I want to die.

My cheeks heat up as Loki sat by my side as I lay in the bed located in our medical bay- aka Tony’s sometimes hangover room.

‘’how are you feeling?’’ he asked, looking a bit drained himself as I took in the scene.

I felt no pain.. something in my chest stirred, something that was hard to identify as I glanced down at myself. The gash in my side was completely gone- not so much as a scar behind! I look up at Loki wide eyed and he merely gave me a gentle look as I tried to speak but shut my mouth quick as redness heated in my cheeks.

How could I thank him? .. I never shared a kind word to him before, we had a sharp relationship.. and yet he still went out of his way to do this..

‘’Loki I- .. I.. I don’t know what to say..’’ I say pathetically as he chuckled.

‘’glad you are looking like your regular self again love.’’

Love.. that nickname.. why did it make me feel.. something? I glance at the clock, seeing how a couple hours have passed since I most likely had passed out. Leaving plenty of time to make sure it wasn’t a trick, a spell, or some type of cruel joke.. he really did help me..

‘’norns Y/N, I’m not that cruel to just leave you to bleed or taking your injured state into advantage for mischief’’ he sighed and leaned himself against the side rails of my bed, his body still sat close enough where I found feel him pressed against my side and I give him a tired, irritated look.

‘’before I thank you, I would request you stop reading my mind from now, call it an exchange for some future moments where I will take it easy on you.’’ I lightly joke, leaning back in the sat up bed as I hear him laugh.

‘’an exchange then? Alright, I will leave your thoughts be for some decent time from your kind heart,’’ he said with a tease. ‘’but is it hardly a fair exchange when our moments have been clearly even?’’

I sigh, knowing regardless of it all, he’ll always he so stubborn. ‘’and what is it that you want?’’

‘’a proper thank you.’’ he said calmly with a smile, it widening as I raise my brows.

I was half expecting a sarcastic, clever comment, but all he wanted was a true thank you? easy. ..or was it.. he clearly saved me from bleeding out to death, I’m pretty sure a ‘thanks’ wouldn’t be good enough as my fingers played with the fabric of my blanket mindlessly. ‘’..in what way?’’

‘’that is for you to figure out love.’’ He said gently, the mischief fading from his eyes as he seemed to stare at me like an honest man.

What? Buy him lunch as a thank you? a hug? A good word to Fury to help his probation at the tower? From his eyes, it seemed like he was just expecting words of affirmation, a from the heart type of thank you. yet why didn’t that feel like enough? My mind raced, everything seeming to be shouting things all at once as I tried to calm my emotions. What was this feeling? My mind paused as I felt him move and my eyes looked up to see him beginning to stand.

‘’it’s alright darling, you are tired and its been quite a long da-‘’

He stared at me with the same shocked expression as I had on my face as my hand grasped his before I even realized what he happening. He was still, his hand making no move to grasp back but remained still as I held on. My heart was pounding, and before I knew it, my arm was pulling him back and down.

His expression was now unreadable, as was mine I hope.. but something felt right about it- and I prayed I wasn’t reading the room wrong because despite his unreadable expression and closed off personality.. there was always something off between us, off where there was almost a secret enjoyment to our fights and banter.

So I took a gamble and pulled my hand towards me and his boots could be heard slowly moving towards me, allowing his hand to be guided before he came closer to my side on the bed. Our gazes never left each other, almost daring each other to look away but neither of us did.. not even as I pulled his hand a bit down to where he now slowly bent his height down and I lean forward. All movements were careful, my hand slowly releasing his as he moved it beside my arm and moved his other hand to do the same on the other side- caging me in.

As he leaned down, our eyes fell slightly closed, expressions relaxed as we seemed to melt in the moment. my lips slightly parted, our soft breaths could be heard as he leaned down and my hands moved to his shoulders to take over and guided him down finally so I could kiss him.

My lips brushed against his gentle, finding them soft and welcoming. He let me set the pace, my arms bringing him closer so I was able to deepen the kiss in which he eagerly returned with restrained gentleness. He gently moaned against my lips, as did I as we seemed to fit perfectly like a glove. My mind went still- relaxed, as if nothing mattered anymore, all quarrel forgotten and memories faded.

With my eyes closed, I felt his knee gently rest beside my thigh, followed by the other one as I felt his presence hover above my now. There was a strange temperature to him, not frost bite necessarily but a lack of human warmth. Well.. he’s not human anyway. His kiss became more needy as he ran his slender fingers through my hair and I couldn’t help but tangle mine in his. His locks are silky, not at all oily like one would think at the mere look of them. I hear a low growl as I tighten my grip on them, the mere vibration sending a wave of arousal through my body as I feel the need to close my legs.

‘’L-Loki.. I need.. we need..’’ I pant, staring up at him as he gazes back down at me, his pupils dilated with arousal himself as I feel his bulge just barely pressed up against me. If I were to raise my hips right now, I’m sure it would be like touching a boulder.

‘’I know darling, I know’’ he whispered, his thumb stroking my cheek as he lowered himself ever so slightly so our bodies were almost close to touching. ‘’are you sure you want this?..’’

My mind was in complete submission, my sharp tongue completely dulled to how I see him now. I wanted him.. this had all been denial.. but now I’m sure. I want him. my eyes gently looked up into his and my head nodded.

‘’use your words darling..’’ he held back a smirk but I knew it was there. Even now his personality didn’t change much, he probably enjoyed seeing me submit as my cheeks reddened as I look up at him.

‘’I want you’’ I whisper, eagerness being held back as my body began shaking in anticipation. That earned a small brush of his body lowering to feel mine, my hips rising for more of him but he raised up again.

‘’not yet darling, I don’t think you’re ready for me.’’ He sighed, almost as if saying ‘oh well’ and I look up at him in shock.

‘’no I’m ready-‘’

‘’you need a good amount of prepping first love, if you don’t want to be torn apart’’ that last part he whispered against my ear, I could feel his breath brush against my skin where it sent chills over my body.

‘’what are you-‘’

My words cut off when his hand gently began kneading my breast over my clothes, the action catching me off guard where a gasp left my lips and he took that opportunity to insert his tongue.

He was a skilled lover, one would assume so just by the mere sight of him but the thought was always shook off when I didn’t want to accept my true feelings.. any type of relationship causes me to panic, the mere doubt or thought of me messing up always just made me want to push all of it away.. but I suppose hate is what grew this connect. A sick, sad way of bonding but it got us here, it only took me getting stabbed for me to stop denying myself.

He was reading my mind again, the feeling of like a poke in my brain as he pulled up my shirt to place his mouth over my breast to ease my thoughts away. I think to much, and this was a damn good distraction as he moaned against me, my back arching as gasps left my lips. His other hand gave my other breast attention, pinching and kneading before his hand and mouth switched to give equal attention.

‘’you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you Y/N..’’ he murmured against me, his lips navigating up my chest to suck just above my collarbone that was a promise to leave a mark.

‘’i.. I thought you hated me..’’ I struggled out as my hands gripped his shoulders, a tingling under my fingertips as I glanced down to see the remaining shimmer before noticing his armor was off, leaving him just in his leather and cloth.

‘’I went along with your denied feelings but I sensed the truth way before I decided to enter that naughty little mind of yours’’ he smirked, his eyes flicking up to my own as his finger tips played with the button of my jeans.

My cheeks heated up as my nails practically dug into his shoulders out of shyness, almost as if I was curling up if I didn’t feel his knee between my legs to prevent them from closing. ‘’how long have you been doing that?’’ I whisper, shuddering as he began rubbing his knee gently against my sex, even with the blanket still between us.

‘’whenever I felt like it. primarily when you walk away after using your sharp tongue and yet your thoughts betrayed you, thinking the complete opposite of me. I was able to glance into your true feelings just enough before you pushed them down.. but I think we both know the truth’’ he whispered, his lips caressing my neck now while his hand gently moved my hair away to give him more access while his other unzipped my zipper.

‘’it was only a matter of time but I couldn’t wait forever.. I was going to perhaps wait longer on telling you how I truly felt about you but after you got injured..’’ his movements paused at the memory, raising his head slowly to meet my widened eyes. ‘’I thought I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to tell you if I lost you..’’

Of gods.. norns I think I love him..

A small smile spread across his lips as I look away from him. ‘’stop that..’’

‘’as you wish darling, I’m sure things are clear now nevertheless’’ he chuckled, attacking my neck again while my head was turned, earning a squeak to leave my lips when I felt him begin to nip and his fingers slowly dipped passed my panties.

My lips part as my eyes flutter close, making no moves to stop him as his finger tips ghost over my sex ever so slightly to take my breath away. I feel his tongue against my neck and his teeth now and again before his lips begin to suck and mark. Just before I could even think to rise my hips to find more friction, his finger tips begin playing with my clit, causing me to shudder and the knot of pleasure to begin forming within me.

‘’so sensitive.. so responsive.. how long has it been since one has touched you properly..’’ he whispered, not asking a question and I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it anyway.

He began rubbing circles, a slow pace that began picking up when I began rising my hips, practically trying to shamelessly hump his hand if his other didn’t grip my hip to hold me down. a silent gasp left my mouth as I raised my head back and my back began to arch. His thumb took over on my clit so his two fingers could tease my entrance, dipping ever so slightly in and pulling out when my hips strained to rise.

‘’patience darling, be a good girl and take what I give you’’ he practically growled against my ear before he began to nibble on my lobe.

Goosebumps rose on my arms and I began to squirm until he slowly inserted his two fingers, causing me to moan his name slowly and shamelessly. I didn’t even care where we were or who could walk in but I was sure somehow Loki would have used magic to somehow provide us with a bit of privacy. I could feel his rock-hard bulge against the inside of my thigh, rubbing himself against it to match his rhythm while his fingers thrust into me In a faster pace.

‘’gods Loki…’’ I moan, feeling my orgasm get closer and closer and my eyebrows furrowed with my eyes fluttering closed. I was so close..

‘’cum for me darling.. ‘’ he whispered, his pace quickening on my clit as he pushed his fingers into me to the knuckles, causing me to tip over the edge as I reached my orgasm.

‘’LOKI!!’’ I practically scream as I moan and hold onto him, my body fluttering and clenching down on his fingers in a vise grip that has him practically moaning while he presses his lips to mine once more.

His movements slowed down ever so slightly, helping me ride it out as I was a panting mess, my body shaking and my eyes drunk like before he slowly pulls his hand out of my pants, his mouth licking my essence with no shame and a smirk where my cheeks heat up again.

‘’shy not darling, you taste absolutely wonderful.’’ He purred and adjusts himself as he backs away down my body while a hand slowly removed the blanket.

I slowly sit up as I catch my breath, just seeing the mischief in his eyes as his hands grip my pant legs and I give him a smile.

‘’in fact, I think I should help myself to a proper taste..’’

[spooky-luvur]

Eyeless Jack x m!Reader Pt. 2

(A/N i didn’t reread this at all so sorry if something doesn’t make sense. that’s usually the case ha)

Shivering even under the thick blanket, you run your fingers over the sore scar tissue. Part of you is scared if you move wrong or press too hard the skin will split open and stain your sheets. Maybe he smells blood. Like a shark.

Freak, you think to yourself.

A sudden knock at your door makes you jolt and freeze up in pain. You yell at whoever’s at the door to wait a moment as you pretty much fall off the couch to tug some clothes on.

Your hand pauses over the doorknob for a stiff moment. What if you open it and he’s there? Will he take your other kidney? Or maybe your liver this time. Forget shark, is this guy a zombie? You force yourself to open the door.

“Hello, dear. How are you?”

You relax against the frame and smile tiredly at the woman.

“Hey Miss Zhao. I should be asking you that.”

She shuffles past you to set a casserole dish on the table next to the door.

“Oh, I’m alright. Jack is good company, you know.”

“Jack?” You echo, folding your arms against your chest- subtly wincing in pain as the movement pulls on the raw skin. “Is that the new neighbor? I saw them in the lobby the other day, I think.”

Miss Zhao laughs and waves her hand.

“No, not them.”

Your brow burrows but the smile doesn’t drop from your face until a figure steps into view behind the stout woman. Your side aches at the sight.

He has the nerve to casually wave at you.

You stutter as Miss Zhao says something about feeding time and goes back to her room, leaving you with the very thing that’s been haunting you like a ghost.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Wha-“ Is all you allow yourself to say before promptly slamming the door shut. You stand there for a few moments, half expecting the man to open it and thrust a knife at you. But he never does, and the door stays firmly shut. You find yourself glaring at the poor wood before stomping away.

A nice shower, you think. Thats exactly what I need.

You strip yourself of what little clothes you were wearing. Grumbling, you pivot to the bathroom hallway and come to an abrupt halt. There he stands, hands in his pockets. How is that even fucking possible?

You stare at each other in silence before his head tilts down not-so-subtly.

“Nice,” is all he says.

It takes you a moment to realize this masked murderer that literally took one of your organs the other week is currently scrutinizing you.

“FUCK you!” You cross your arms over your chest which is about all you can do at the moment. “What the hell do you want? My other one?”

“Not today.” He frees one of his hands to point at you. “How is it? The scar.”

You subconsciously reach down to mess with the puckered skin.

“Fine, no thanks to you.”

“It is thanks to me, actually.”

“What?” You hiss.

“Well, it was me that fixed you up instead of leaving you to bleed out on the floor like a hog.” He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Ugh, right,” you rub a hand down your face, exasperated, “the tub. The damn ice. What the hell even was that? Who does that?”

“Do you really want to know why I took it?”

“You’re a psychopath that won’t even show his face. My guess? You’ll be caught as soon as next week.”

The man does that stupid quiet laugh again and lowers himself onto your plush sofa.

“Kick up your feet why don’t you! Make yourself comfortable. Actually, get the fuck out.”

He folds his hands in his lap like he’s about to have a very nice conversation with your mother “I think I’ll stay.”

You’re about to snap at him again, start yelling, maybe throwing things, but you choke on the words as you remember exactly who you’re about to lash out at. This man who is obviously stronger, faster, and smarter than you (and has no problem proving it) is giving you little to no options. Part of you doubts he would hurt you again, but what’s stopping him? Nothing.

So you bite your tongue and simply glare. After hesitating a few moments longer you turn away to go take your well needed shower.

Jack pulls out his (untraceable, courtesy of a ffffffffriend) phone once you round the corner. His mouth twitches in annoyance at the messages on the cracked screen.

B:

wya?

B:

wyd

B:

you ar not supplied to be out today

supposed

Jack:

ben

B:

ohhhh i get it

B:

its that guy

Jack:

ben

B:

dont worry ill keep your secret

Jack feels the need to have eyes to roll as he slips the device back into his pocket. God forbid that kid keep his thoughts to himself.

“So, I should call the cops. Right? That’s what I should do.” Is what you tell the man relaxing on your couch once you face him again. He looks over at you and you almost shiver at the sight of the goo slowly sliding down the blue face.

“Sure.”

“You’re really confusing, you know?”

“Ha.”

Your eye twitches in annoyance before you give up, heaving a heavy sign and taking a seat in the recliner beside the couch. Your hand absentmindedly wanders to caress the puckered skin of the healing wound.

“Let me see.”

“Huh?”

“The stitches. I can take them out now.”

You eye the man on your couch warily. What is this guy, some kind of doctor?

“You want to…take the stitches out.” You parrot. He nods and stands from his seat and push yourself further into the chair the closer he gets, like a picky child that’s being fed peas.

“You want them out. They’re itching.”

“Are you a doctor or something?” You snap out your previous thought causing him to stop in his tracks. You spot his hands twitch before he stretches his fingers out.

“I know what to do,” Is his reply.

Really, what other choice did you have? Going to the hospital to get undocumented stitches out would raise a few questions…not to mention you’d never be able to pay for it.

“…Fine. But I’ll catch you in the nuts the second you do something funny.”

“Noted.”

You gasp as he grabs you and pulls you up and then a second later you’re laying on your stomach on the couch. You can’t even spit out a retort when he tugs your shirt up to get better access. The cold leather against your bare skin causes you to squirm for a moment before a hand is holding itself against your back.

“Stay still.”

“You-“

He must sense your coming fit and slips his hand to lay gentle but firm across the back of your neck. Words die on your tongue as you go lax like a kitten that’s just been picked up by its mum.

“Whatever…”

You feel his hands poking and prodding before the tug of stitches being cut.

“Is it even ready?” You ask the man who is currently leaning over you on his knees like you’re on an actual operating table.

“It is.”

“But are you sure? If it isn’t healed-“

“It’s healed.”

“You love cutting me off!”

“Hush.”

You resist the urge to kick him in the face.

After a few minutes of silence he leans away, running his fingers across your skin.

“Done?” You crane your neck.

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t very sanitary. I should-“

You sit up and turn to look at him but pause at the sight of his hands retracting. The color makes you gasp and almost fall off the couch to grab him.

“What the fuck?” You hold his arm and push up his sleeve to see more of the man’s skin as he simply watches you basically feel him up.

“I don’t get a lot of sun.”

You glare at him for the joke.

“This is…so weird.” You release him and scrub a hand down your face as you relax into the couch. He takes a seat next to you like you’re two friends catching up. “What’s wrong with you?”

You close your eyes and wish your mouth had been sewn shut instead of your side but he huffs out a laugh and you look at him almost timidly.

“Shit, I didn’t mean- I mean I did but like- okay, I’m done.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Oh yeah? An interesting one?” You lightly pry. Whatever happened for him to look the way he does- for him to be some kind of kidney-stealing grey skinned freak has to be more than ‘oh yeah I got the flu real bad once.’

“Hm…maybe.”

“Are you…gonna tell me? I feel like I’m entitled at this point.”

Jack folds his arms and you hear him hum in (probably fake) contemplation.

“I’ll tell you…once you trust me.”

“Trust you?” You gape at him in disbelief. “Why would I- you tried to kill me!”

“No I didn’t.”

“Then what the hell was this?!” You gesture toward your scarring angrily.

“Not enough to kill you. I could have, though.”

Your mouth clicks shut at the new tone in his voice. Dangerously territory, this conversation. So you drop it.

“Okay. Fine. So…what’s with the goo?”

[elysiaheaven]

do you take requests? if you do, could i request ronin with a jirai kei/landmine mc? (landmine is typically used to refer to a girl (although, it can also be a guy) who is mentally unwell and on the verge of exploding, usually someone with bpd or bipolar)

if not, i 100% understand 😊

hi! I'm really tried my best to research if it's not accurate I'm so sorry.. also it's so cringe I made it so fluff imaooo

Words:1000!

Summary: you are bandaging him after a small accident

Genre: Fluff

Devotion-Ronin x G.N reader ^^

The air in your small apartment stinks of antiseptic. You’re kneeling on the stained carpet, frantically wrapping Ronin’s arm in gauze, trying to keep his skin together before the bleeding gets worse. His grin—obnoxious, smug, and endlessly irritating—remains intact despite the gash running from his shoulder down to his elbow.

“Should’ve seen it, babe. You should’ve seen how his face split open,” he chuckles, his voice raspy and far too casual for someone who just narrowly escaped murder charges. “I swear, it was art.”

You yank the bandage tighter than necessary, making him flinch.

"Ow. Easy, sweetheart."

“Shut up,” you snap, the sharpness in your voice cutting through the room like a knife. Your fingers tremble as you fasten the gauze into place, rage bubbling in your chest, threatening to boil over. It’s like every nerve in your body is frayed, ready to snap in half. “Just shut the hell up, Ronin. For five seconds. Do you know how close you were to getting caught? I had to drag your stupid body out of there!”

He doesn’t even flinch at the outburst. In fact, his grin grows wider, eyes gleaming with some twisted amusement. He’s enjoying this—the way you’re unraveling in front of him like a ribbon being pulled too hard from both ends.

“You’re so cute when you yell,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall, as if you aren't seething just inches away. "All dolled up in that pretty skirt, screaming like a little time bomb. God, I love you."

You grab a loose pillow from the couch and throw it at his face.

The pillow bounces off Ronin’s chest, but he catches it effortlessly, laughing softly under his breath. The sound grates on your nerves like nails on glass. You shove his shoulder—his injured shoulder—and he winces, though the grin never leaves his face.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

Before you can finish, he moves faster than you expect. His uninjured arm snakes around your waist, yanking you against him, despite your furious squirming. “What didja think, huh? That you were just gonna walk out on me?” His voice drops, a teasing drawl laced with menace, his words slithering into your ear.

"Let me go," you hiss, thrashing against his hold, but it’s no use. He tightens his grip, holding you firm like he’s cradling something precious that might shatter at any moment—and, God, maybe you will. The tension coiled inside you, the pressure building up like a bomb, is unbearable.

“Not happening, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to the top of your head, a mockery of tenderness. “Where else would you go, huh? You need me just as much as I need you.”

You hate how his words crawl under your skin, how they make you freeze for a moment too long. He knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how to sink his claws in. You’ve tried so hard to stay composed, to keep the storm inside at bay, but with Ronin, the cracks in your armor spread faster than you can patch them.

"Don’t…" your voice falters, but you push at him again, weaker this time. "Don’t act like you care." The frustration and sadness twist together, tightening your chest like barbed wire. You hate him for making you feel this raw, this open.

“Oh, I care, darlin’. I care so much it hurts.” His hand slides up your back, slow and deliberate, grounding you even as you try to shove him away again. "That’s why you patched me up, didn’t you? You were scared."

"You almost got caught," you whisper, barely keeping it together. Your breathing’s erratic, the words stumbling out in broken pieces. "And now I’m stuck here… cleaning up your mess… again."

Ronin’s hand drifts up to your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His thumb traces the edge of your lips with a gentleness that makes your stomach turn. "You don’t have to fight me, sweetheart. I like you exactly the way you are—messy, angry, perfect.”

And that’s the worst part: You know he means it. He loves the chaos, feeds off it. Every time you teeter on the edge of breaking, he pulls you closer, cradling your madness like it’s something beautiful. And it scares you—how easily you could fall apart in his arms, how much you want to.

You sag against him, exhausted from the struggle, your body giving out before your mind can. Ronin’s arms tighten around you, holding you like a lifeline, like he knew all along you’d give in.

“There you go, Darling” he murmurs, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "I’ve got you."

You lean into Ronin’s embrace, the tension in your muscles slowly unraveling as you sink against him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill of your frayed nerves. The soft thump of your heart beats steadily in your ears, a chaotic rhythm matching the swirl of emotions fighting for dominance within you.

“I know, I know,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, almost conspiratorial, as if he’s sharing a secret meant only for you. “You’re a walking time bomb, but that’s what makes you so interesting.” He leans back slightly, just enough to catch your gaze, his devilish smirk never fading. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to watch a beautiful disaster unfold?”

You scowl at him, not in the mood for his games. “You think this is funny? You’re the reason I’m falling apart.”

Ronin chuckles softly, clearly amused. “Oh, babe, it’s way more entertaining than funny. You’re like a high-wire act without a safety net. Plus,” he adds, nudging your shoulder with his, “it’s not like I’m the one keeping secrets in a bloody basement.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You don’t get it. This is real for me.” The shadows of your bipolar disorder loom large, threatening to engulf you. Some days, you can handle everything—navigate the chaos, juggle the highs and lows—but other days? It’s like being caught in a whirlwind, and right now, it feels like you’re spiraling toward the edge.

Ronin’s expression shifts, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more earnest. “Then let’s just be a mess together, yeah?” His fingers brush against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. “I mean, we can be extra dysfunctional, and I’m all in."

“Dysfunctional isn’t the half of it,” you mutter, your voice softer, the edge of your anger dulling as you look into his dark eyes, searching for a flicker of understanding.

“Ah, but that’s where the fun lies.” He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, teasingly whispering, “Besides, being a little devilish is my specialty. It’s like… embracing the chaos instead of running from it.”

You want to resist his allure, the way he pulls you in with every word, but there’s an undeniable comfort in his presence. He seems to understand the storm raging inside you, even when you barely grasp it yourself. “What if I explode?” you ask, half-joking, half-terrified of the reality that sits beneath the surface.

“Then I’ll catch you,” he promises, deadpan, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. “And we’ll make a real mess of things. I’ll grab a mop, and you can scream all you want. Just don’t think for a second that I’d let you go.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a fraction. “You’re impossible.”

“Exactly.” He leans back against the wall, still cradling you in his arms. “And that’s why you love me.”

You push at his shoulder playfully, but there’s no real force behind it. “I don’t love you. I tolerate you.”

“Oh, please.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning like a cat who just caught the canary. “You’re wrapped around my finger, darling. But that’s okay; I like you a little unhinged.”

“Unhinged?” you echo, the term sending a shiver through you. It’s a label you often grapple with, one that feels too close to home.

“Yeah, it’s like a badge of honor.” His eyes gleam as he continues, “You’re wild, unpredictable, and a bit of a mess. It’s like your own personal chaos aesthetic.” He lifts his hands in mock exaggeration, as if you’re some rare work of art. “And don’t forget—you’re mine. I can handle the explosion.”

His confidence in you is infuriating, but also oddly reassuring. You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “You really think I can just… manage it all?”

Ronin nods, his gaze unwavering. “Of course. It’s all about balance, babe. You’ve got the fire; I’ve got the chaos. Together, we’re a beautiful disaster.”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep me around. See? That makes you the worst, too.” His smirk returns, cocky and playful. “You’re just as twisted as I am.”

“Not even close,” you retort, but the laughter in your voice betrays you.

He pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You just wait, sweetheart. I’ll help you embrace your wild side. You’ll see.”

The uncertainty lingers, but for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace, comforted by the warmth and chaos he brings. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for today.

You sink deeper into Ronin's embrace, the tension easing from your shoulders as his warmth envelops you. Your mind is still a jumble of emotions, but the soft fabric of your oversized hoodie—a faded black with intricate, pastel-hued patches—feels comforting against your skin.

“Nice hoodie, babe. I love how you rock that look,” Ronin said sarcastically, his fingers grazing the delicate lace trim at the sleeves. “So perfectly chaotic. It’s like you’re ready to explode at any moment.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile threatens to break through. “It’s called style. Not everything has to be about violence, you know.” Your hoodie hangs off one shoulder, exposing the frilly strap of the pink lace tank underneath. You feel ridiculous, and yet… it’s part of who you are.

Ronin chuckles, tugging playfully at the hem of your hoodie. “It’s a cute look. That top is like a warning sign, and the ruffles are practically screaming for attention.” His tone is teasing, but there's a hint of sincerity behind it that makes your heart flutter.

“Like your bloody bandages aren’t attention-grabbing enough?” you shoot back, gesturing toward the makeshift dressing he’s wrapped around his arm. You can’t help but notice how the contrast between your softer, pastel colors and his dark attire highlights the chaos you both embody. His signature look—black ripped jeans, a loose maroon tee, and a battered leather jacket—only enhances his devil-may-care attitude.

“Hey, it’s all about the aesthetic,” he says, his grin wide and unapologetic. “You can’t have a true chaos vibe without a little blood, after all.”

You snort, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. “You’re such a punk.”

“And you’re my..darling.” he retorts, the wicked glint in his eyes making you blush. “Just think of it this way: We’re the perfect match. You’re the ticking time bomb in frills and lace, and I’m the charming devil.”

The juxtaposition of your two styles feels almost poetic in its absurdity. Your layered fishnet stockings peek out from beneath your frayed mini skirt, adorned with silver hardware and mismatched patches that tell stories of their own. Each piece of clothing is a reflection of your inner turmoil, each stitch a reminder of the battles fought and the scars worn like badges.

“Do you really think I’m cute like this?” you ask, vulnerability creeping into your voice. It’s not something you often share, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he’s studying you.

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone suddenly serious. “You’re beautiful, even with..."

The soft fabric of your oversized T-shirt brushes against Ronin’s arm, the pastel pink covered in faint rips and band logos, a perfect reflection of your chaotic style. The high-waisted black skirt, shorts you wear flares slightly as you shift, the hem adorned with delicate lace that clashes and complements your chaotic aesthetic all at once.

You roll your eyes, the playful banter bringing a flicker of warmth to your cheeks. “Shut up. At least I’m not wearing a beanie indoors.”

“Hey, this beanie is a fashion statement,” he replies, his tone dripping with mock indignation as he pats the plum-colored fabric atop his head. “It keeps the artistic vibes alive, you know?”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you glance down at your outfit. The contrast of your clothes—delicate ruffles and lace with a touch of punk rock—makes you feel both fierce and fragile, just like your mind. The jirai kei aesthetic reflects you.. it's just your style..

“See? You’re practically a walking art piece.” Ronin shifts slightly, cradling you tighter against him, his thumb tracing the edge of your lace-trimmed collar. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to have a person like you on their arm?”

You huff, your expression softening despite your best efforts. “Just because I wear ruffles doesn’t mean I’m not capable of causing chaos.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice low, and suddenly serious. “That’s what I love about you. You’re a contradiction, and it’s beautiful.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. You want to protest, to throw his words back at him, but instead, you find yourself melting further into his embrace. You can feel the tension in your body start to dissolve, even as the swirling storm in your mind rages on.

“Do you remember the first time I saw you in a stupid call?” Ronin continues, a playful lilt returning to his voice. “You were wearing that black and white striped shirt with a collar—adorable, and yet I could tell there was something simmering underneath.”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t stop staring at me..I think?" you shoot back, trying to redirect the conversation, but the warmth in your chest only grows.

“It was the combination of the pastel colors,” he says, pretending to think deeply. “You looked like a cute little time bomb, just waiting to go off.”

Your cheeks flush again, and you fight the urge to bury your face in his chest. “Stop it.”

“Nope,” he says with a playful grin. “I’ll never stop. You’re like a little —adorable on the outside, and then boom!” He gestures dramatically, hands exploding outward as if reenacting your metaphorical detonation.

You can’t help but laugh, even though a part of you is still tense, a storm cloud brewing in the background. “I am not like that! I mean it's we....”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone teasing yet tender, “you definitely are. But that just makes me want to be around you more. I’ll be here when you go off. I’m not going anywhere.”

You shift your weight slightly, the hem of your clothing brushing against his jeans. “You might want to reconsider that.”

“Never. I’m addicted to your chaos.” He smirks, running a finger along the edge of your lace. “And besides, I think you need a little devilish distraction in your life.”

“Distraction?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Or danger?”

“Both. It’s a package deal,” he winks, the devil-may-care attitude shining through. “And trust me, with your flair for the dramatic and my penchant for chaos, we’ll create our own beautiful mess.”

You breathe in deeply, the tension slowly ebbing away as you absorb his playful confidence. The combination of your styles—his dark punk vibes and your jirai kei flair—creates a unique blend that feels so distinctly you.

“I guess I’m lucky to have you around to catch me when I explode,” you say, a soft smile breaking through the storm clouds in your mind.

“You bet,” he replies, his grin wide and mischievous. “But don’t think for a second I won’t enjoy the explosion, darling. I thrive in the chaos; I’ve told you before.”

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress a giggle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“True, but you love it.” He pulls you closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You shift slightly in Ronin’s embrace, the soft couch enveloping you like a cocoon, but the clock on the wall catches your eye. It’s getting late, and a wave of anxiety washes over you. “I really should head home,” you say reluctantly, glancing towards the door.

“Why?” He looks at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve already made a mess of my heart, darling. You think I’ll let you just waltz out of here?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the weight of your worries lightening for a moment. “I don’t want to disturb you, Ronin. I mean, you probably have… things to do.”

“Things to do?” He quirks an eyebrow, feigning incredulity. “What could possibly be more interesting than this?” He gestures dramatically around the room as if it’s a grand stage, but the intensity in his gaze is undeniable. “Just stay. I promise I won’t bite—much.”

You feel a flutter of excitement mixed with anxiety. “I don’t know. It’s late…”

“Please?” he adds, his voice lowering, taking on a soft, coaxing tone that makes your heart race. “Just stay a little longer. What’s the harm in that?”

Your resolve wavers, and you can feel the familiar tug of his devilish charm pulling you closer. “I really should…” you start, but he interrupts, playfully pushing you down on the couch. You can’t help but gasp as he pins you gently against the cushions, his body hovering over yours.

“What was that about going home?” he whispers, his face inches from yours, the warmth radiating from him sending shivers down your spine. Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Stay,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you again, deeper this time, his fingers tangling in your hair as if anchoring you to this moment.

You melt into him, the taste of him overwhelming your senses—spicy and sweet, the essence of him intoxicating. His kisses are fervent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to convey everything he feels without words.

You push against him slightly, your thoughts a chaotic swirl, but the way he holds you tight makes it hard to think straight. “Ronin…” you whisper, but he kisses you again, silencing your protests.

In that moment, nothing else matters. Your worries slip away, replaced by the warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze. You pull him closer, surrendering to the need building inside you. His kisses become a frantic melody, a rhythm that drowns out your thoughts and worries.

You realize you’ve given up the argument, leaning into him, the hesitation fading away. This is where you want to be—lost in the chaos, the devilish embrace of someone who understands your darkness. No words are needed; the warmth of his kisses speaks volumes, each one whispering a promise of what could be.

Ronin’s hold on you tightens, a possessive gesture that makes your heart race even faster. He can be so devilish, and yet, here in this moment, everything feels just right.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Carpe Noctem 17

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“What are you doing?” You open the driver’s side door, “you can’t drive.”

“Bullshit, I can’t,” Lloyd scoffs in a nasally voice, causing himself to hack and spit blood between your feet.

“You’re–” you huff and open the package of tissues in your hand, “take these,” you pull out two and try to stem the blood leaking from his nose.

“Would you–” He snatches them, “quit? I’m not a baby.”

“Let me drive,” you insist, “you could be concussed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ll get blood on the upholstery.”

He sighs and gets out. You step back to give him room. He glares down at you and pinches the end of his nose with the tissues, wincing as he does. You try to touch his arm but he pulls away, tramping like an angry child around the car.

You get in and put the tissue package in the little space between the seats. The other door opens and Lloyd falls in heavily, jolting the car with his weight. You shut your door as his slams and you buckle yourself in. You start the car and adjust the mirrors.

“Try not to fuck anything up.”

“Do your seatbelt up,” you grip the slender wheel, it’s bigger than what you’re used to.

“Yeah, yeah,” he clicks the buckle into place, once more tamping his nostrils with the tissue, “why do you even have these?”

“I keep them in my purse. Just in case.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those PTA moms. You even got the ass for it.”

You don’t comment. You focus on the road, waiting your turn to pull out. There’s a tap on the window on Lloyd’s side. You glance over, searching for the switch to roll it down as an unfortunately familiar face peers in. Stephanie, one of the mother’s from the daycare.

“Hi,” her expression is pinched as she holds her son, Carter, on her hip, “Carter wanted to check on you… we saw everything.”

The judgment in her voice both injures and irks you. Lloyd laughs but chokes on his own spit, fighting not to swallow blood. The small boy looks at you with round eyes.

“Are you okay, Mimi?” He babbles.

“I’m okay, Carter, promise. It was just a little tussle.”

“Sure,” Stephanie snaps, “I will be speaking with Carol about this.”

“Um, alright, I’m sorry, it was beyond–”

“Look, lady, I’m the one who jacked the cop up. Not her,” Lloyd pulls the tissue away, revealing crusted blood in his mustache and the split in the bridge of his nose, “you want my supervisor’s number? Oh wait, I don’t fucking have one, karen.”

He hits the door, pressing down the button so the window rolls up. You gulp as Stephanie recoils, bouncing Carter as you hear her talking to him comfortingly. This isn’t great but you’ve worked at the daycare long enough, it shouldn’t matter that Johnny is out here causing trouble.

“Let’s just get you home,” you say, “it’s been a long enough day.”

“I hope you don’t think it’s over already,” he takes another tissue, balling the red-stained ones in his hand.

“Trust me, I know it’s far from,” you slowly pull out onto the avenue.

“Mimi… what kinda name is that?”

“It’s what the kids call me. It’s easy for them.”

“Easy. I like the sound of that.”

“Take it easy, alright?” You try to see past him as you stop at the intersection, “and lean your head back. It will help with the bleeding.”

He grumbles but does as you say. You feel a twinge in your chest. It’s your fault he’s like this. You shouldn’t have called him. Really, you don’t know why you did. You could’ve just taken the ticket and gone on your way.

🍑

“Aw, you stained your shirt,” you say as you drag a chair close to the sofa, “I can probably get it out though. Little secret my Nan taught me.”

Lloyd opens one eye, his glare just as intimidating at half-strength. He reclines with his head against the armrest, you have everything on the little round table behind him, ready to get him cleaned up. He rolls his eye before closing it again.

“I don’t know about the nose though,” you wet a cloth and gently reach to wipe the blood smeared across his cheeks and chin, “I’m not a doctor or anything.”

He flinches and growls. He doesn’t speak as you mop up his mustache, rubbing to get the dried blood out of the hair. He wiggles his nose and grunts, turning his head away.

“You’re pushing the hair up my nostrils, it tickles,” he waves you away.

“Well, I gotta clean it,” you insist, “if you could see yourself–”

“If we just went to my room like I said, I could.” 

You give him a look, huh?

“There’s a mirror on the ceiling,” he smirks as if it should be obvious.

“Right,” you continue your work, trying not to dab the bridge too hard.

“Shit, that stings, baby,” he hisses.

“Sorry,” you retract your touch, “it has to be done–”

“Is this why that idiot is obsessed? Cause you played mommy to him?”

You shrug. You don’t want to think about Johnny and what he did or didn’t like about you. You take some gause and some rubbing alcohol.

“This is gonna sting too,” you warn.

You look at him. His brow is cut too and his eye socket and cheekbone are swelling up and turning purple. You cluck as you daintily press along the broken skin.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He snips.

“Getting you hurt. I should’ve just dealt with it myself.”

“Maybe. But it was fun,” he lets out a squeak and nearly smacks you away. “Shit!”

“I’m being nice, I’m sorry–”

“Honey, you can be as nice as you want, my face is fucked. Lost cause… you should just play with my dick.”

You tilt your head and give him a look. He really has a one track mind. If it’s not violence, it’s… that.

“Please, mimi,” he pouts, pushing his lip out, “my dick really hurts. I just need you to rub it better for me.”

“One thing at a time,” you tut.

“Yes, mommy.”

You recoil and scoff. He cackles but stops quickly as he puts his hand over his nose. He groans and feels along his swollen nostrils.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” you puff out, “it’s gross.”

“Why not, mommy?”

“Lloyd,” you sneer.

“Oh, so you can get angry… I like it. Channel that rage… onto my dick–”

“Let me finish,” you grab his forehead and push his head back down, “then, you can have play time.”

“Ugh,” he relents, letting you hold him down, “yes, mimi, I’ll be a good boy.”

[anime-dreams]

Idk man pt 2??? Jjk season 2 was traumatising (gege 😡) but sukuna was really hot

Anyways heres Shokos pov after ✨Gojoe✨ and 🗣️Geetoes🦶breakup (i love shoko omg shes so hot and shes savage)

I could barely recognise you after he left. Those blue eyes no longer held the familiar warmth and glow. Your mood swings were so sudden, your silence was so loud, i could not stand to be around you for too long anymore. But you know what i could not stand most? Seeing you, the supposed “strongest” wasting away, like a dimming star. What have you became? Unrecongisable. 

I still keep in touch with Geto. I receive his letters twice a week, and the way he talked about you, it was like you hung stars in the sky. Each one of those letters never failed to mention your name, never failed to ask me to check up on you. And that day, i knocked softly on your door, with a bag full of your favourite snacks. You were crying. I heard it. You never cried, at least, not in front of me. But when you opened the door, you greeted me with a smile that did not reach your eyes. Why are you hiding your feelings from me? Have i also not been with you for the past 2 years? I reached out my hand to pat your back, to try to comfort you, and you flinched, taking a step back, as my hand came into contact with seemingly nothing. Oh yeah, i forgot. Your infinity has been on ever since he left. You took one more step back awkwardly, not meeting my eyes. I know that i can never replace him, but for you to act like im a complete stranger… was i not there? Your actions following his disappearance… it made me question myself if my place in your lives have ever been as meaningful as i had thought. Was i merely an afterthought in the story of our friendship? I didnt even remember how i felt, but i heard myself yell: “Can you suck it up and get the hell over him already?” and the already flickering light in your eyes went out, completely. Before i knew it, your amplification blue took away the whole ceiling and turned it into shambles. Those chipped pieces of wood and shattered pieces of glass held my gaze, as i saw, reflected in them, an image of us. Once strong, now cracked and split. It hurts, you know. Is this how it’s going to end? 

We still talked, but every word you said, every smile you flashed at me, your eyes remained void. Every joke you cracked, every prank you pulled, hollowness echoed after them. I could do nothing but leave you to wallow in your misery. After all, im not him. I cant get you to open up to me like you do with him. You need to know when it’s necessary to let things go, simply for the reason that they are heavy. Deep down, i believe that you havent lost who you are, you’re just different, and that’s okay. But it was painful, to see you like that. 

I stared at the image of you crouching over him, debating if i should disturb the moment. You said something, and he smiled, holding tightly onto his still bleeding shoulder. His lips moved, conveyed his last thoughts to you, then his arms slackened, and his head drooped. You remained there, saying nothing. Your blindfold was off, your shoulders were hunched, your jaw was clenched, and in those swirling shades of blue in your eyes, i could somehow only see emptiness. It wasent long before i had to step in. i was supposed to take care of his body’s disposal, after all. And before i could even touch him, you pushed me aside, with so much force that i almost fell. Your head turned, your eyes cast a piercing gaze at me, and those blue were no longer empty. In them, a whirlwind of emotions swirled, some of which i could not comprehend. How can i, anyway? When you never told me anything. I took that as my cue to leave. 

You and him fit each other perfectly, like yin and yang. Then… where am I? To you and him, what have i been this whole time? In some other life, we are standing side by side, and laughing at the fact that in some other life, we are apart. Gojo, Geto, i really hope that we will meet again, that in another life, our paths will cross again, not as Gojo, Geto, or Shoko, but 3 strangers that become the best of friends. Maybe in another life, our fates won’t be sealed and our destinies won’t be so complicated. Maybe in that other life, I will no longer feel invisible.

(😭😭😭its so sad that shoko stuck by toru and sugu all those times and shes like, so damn invisible. 'theres always a duo in a trio' 😢 i love her so much)

Anyways thanks for making it here!! Im the type that only writes when i feel really emo or when im free (student life's really busy :() so im not really active here BUT i appreciate any constructive feedback/criticism if any so pls do comment and TYSMMM FOR MAKING IT HERE 😍

[melis-writes]

What about a rewrite of your infamous Carlo punching Victoria scene but this time around it’s set during Victonny, and how Sonny would react & act 👀👀👀

Set in Victonny times, what if Victoria was married to Sonny and such a thing occurred? 😳 We all know originally in Moth to Flame that Sonny came downstairs moments later after hearing but that was after Michael stepped in… This time, it’s Sonny as requested!! 😥😅

If You Ever Touch My Wife…

“No,” Connie scowls at Carlo, crossing her arms. “I’m not making you a damn thing! Not when you walked out on the children and I last night for dinner and now you’re back late smelling like another whore!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?” Carlo sneers, grabbing Connie’s wrist harshly. “I wasn’t asking, and I sure as hell don’t have to explain anything to you, you little bitch.”

“Carlo, stop,” you hiss, beginning to approach the two.

“Hey—” Carlo points a finger at you, “stay out of this. This is between my wife and I’m the one—” Carlo begins to shake Connie by her arms, “asking questions! This isn’t how you’re gonna treat me, you brat! Get me my fucking dinner!”

“NO!” Connie shrieks back, trying to fight against Carlo’s grip. “Let me go! Let me—”

“Carlo, STOP!” You cry out, attempting to intercept between the two to block an incoming blow towards Connie’s face. “Get your hands off of her!”

In a split second as adrenaline shoots through you, you gasp in surprise and flinch back feeling a heavy, sharp force strike you straight in the face.

The cool metal of Carlo’s wedding band scrapes against your cheek as you stumble and fly back from the impact of his punch—landing on your side upon the kitchn floor with a thud.

“Vaffanculo!” (Fuck you!) You hear Carlo shout back to you.

Only able to let out a pained grunt from the faint taste of blood between your teeth, you clutch onto your face and force your eyes open only to see a horrified Connie attempting to pull Carlo back and away from you only for a moment until you realize who they’re looking at.

Just across the kitchen and upon the bottom of the staircase, Sonny’s eyes meet with Connie, Carlo’s, then yours; Sonny’s eyes filled with an indescribable rage, boiling with fury.

“S-Sonny—” You attempt to speak, finding your words to be slurred through a mix of sharp pain and shaky breaths.

Your face throbs and aches from all sides and you can feel the tip and sides of your nose pulsating. There’s a sensation of heat stinging over your cheeks as blood drips down from your nose and onto your chin.

“You’re dead,” Sonny clenches his fists tightly, glowering at Carlo. “You’re fucking dead!”

The last thing you see before Sonny practically leaps at Carlo is his darkening expression consumed with bitter anger that only softens for a split second at the sight of you trembling on the floor and attempting to stop your nose from bleeding.

“SONNY!” Connie screams, scurrying back and away from both him and Carlo. “Oh my God!”

Sonny’s expression spells out nothing sort of “murder” while focusing on beating Carlo to a pulp and nothing more—completely catching you off guard.

Shocked and stunned, you don’t even realize that Connie’s kneeled down by your side attempting to comfort you as the only thing the two of you can do is watch Sonny’s anger and presence transform fully into cruelty.

Tears stream down your face from the unimaginable pain throbbing in your face every passing second as you clutch onto Connie, flinching with each blow that Sonny strikes Carlo with.

Pinning Carlo against the wall with his hand wrapped tightly around his throat, Sonny delivers punch after punch over Carlo’s face and aims for his nose—hitting harder and harder each time until you and Connie hear a sickening crack.

Carlo squirms helplessly against Sonny’s death choke grasp, howling in pain taking hit after hit before he crumples to the floor.

Everything seems to occur before you both in a matter of mere seconds as Sonny has no intention on cutting Carlo even a second’s worth of a break to compose himself and rise up again.

Kicking at Carlo’s ribcage and face, Sonny continues beating down on him and it’s only when Carlo attempts to reach for Sonny’s ankle does Sonny grab Carlo up from the ground by his shirt and throw him with every ounce of strength in his being against the wall again.

You can hear Connie saying your name and gently holding onto your arm just as Sonny turns around and huffs out in frustration—smearing off Carlo’s blood from his knuckles.

“Victoria, Victoria…”

“Vic,” Sonny grits his teeth, immediately kneeling down in front of you.

Your vision blurs from tears uncontrollably pooling in your eyes and as you attempt to speak back to Sonny, all you can let out are pained whimpers taking hold of you.

“Vic, baby, look at me. Look at me—God, Connie, go get her a fucking doctor! Right now!” Sonny gently embraces you in his arms, pulling you up on his lap. “Vic? Open your eyes. C’mon, c’mon—open your eyes, look at me…”

You let out a shuddering gasp, succumbing to the pounding and aching pain in your head as your eyes roll back and you slip into a state of unconsciousness.

“I called, I called!” Connie rushes back into the kitchen, flinching at the sight of an unconscious Carlo crumpled up against the wall. “Doctor Katherine is on her way—oh my God, Victoria! Is she okay?!”

“She’s unconscious,” Sonny rakes a hand through his curls, holding you against his body. “God fucking damn it! She’s pregnant, Connie. If anything happens to my baby because of Carlo, I swear to God I’ll—”

“He’s not breathing,” Connie gasps out; her hands beginning to tremble. “Sonny? Sonny… He’s not breathing.”

Sonny rolls his eyes, glancing back at Carlo’s limp body. “No, he’s fine, trust me. And his ass can stay there until I get Mike—wait until he hears about all of this. Fucking piece of fucking shit!” Sonny carefully scoops you up into his arms. “Look at what he did to my fucking wife! What the fuck happened here, huh?!”

“She tried to defend me,” Connie’s bottom lip trembles as she can barely speak properly throughout her sobs. “All she did was try to help me and then Carlo—”

“I’m gonna have to apologize to you in advance before Pop makes me fuckin’ do it anyway,” Sonny looks back at his sister. “For making you a widow.”

~

Almost two hours pass before you begin to regain consciousness in bed, snuggled in to keep warm by Sonny with the blood gently and carefully cleaned off by your husband as Doctor Katherine arrived and began to check your vitals.

Every time the wet cloth Sonny was using to clean your face brushed up against your bruise, it only spiked another rush of anger through him to see the sight of his injured wife unconscious because of what Sonny’s brother-in-law did to you.

“Is she gonna be alright?” Sonny’s tone of voice is still forceful.

“She will,” Doctor Katherine confirms, noting the swelling over your cheek. “She’s bruised and will only feel its discomfort, but I promise you that she’s doing okay.”

Sonny sighs in relief under his breath, holding your hand in his. “Jesus…”

“She was hit very hard and if you look carefully…” Doctor Katherine frowns, gesturing towards your bruise. “There’s a mark here that was probably from the impact of a ring or a piece of metal. She was hit very close to the face and might have even ended up suffering from a minor concussion if she hit her head on the floor.”

“I don’t even wanna think of that shit,” Sonny shakes his head, kissing the back of your hand. “It was either gonna be to her or my sister. Did you account for that rat?”

“Mr. Corleone…” Doctor Katherine frowns, straightening her posture. “Mr. Rizzi’s state is entirely different matter.”

“I didn’t ask you that,” Sonny narrows his eyes. “I asked you about his state.”

“He’s dead, sir."

“Great,” you hear Sonny mutter under his breath, watching you intently as you ever so gently stir from unconsciousness, attempting to open your eyes. “And if there’s anythin’ else you need to do…”

“No, sir. But please call me in if she’s having trouble with anything or you need my help,” Doctor Katherine gets the hint from Sonny he wants to be alone with you by the time you regain consciousness—beginning to exit the room.

“Victoria,” Sonny mumbles against the back of your hand, peppering kisses over it. “Baby..”

“Mm…” You whine quietly in pain, gazing at Sonny through half opened eyes.

“I know, I know,” Sonny frowns, “stings and hurts like a motherfucker, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, baby. That bastard’s not gonna hurt you or Connie ever again. I made fucking sure of it.”

You have neither the strength nor the energy inside of you to speak in any way, respond or even react—simply staring at Sonny in a state of dizziness as if you were in a dream, but hearing everything he has to say.

“I’m gonna take of you, baby,” Sonny tells you, nodding. “Promise. Not gonna let anyone lay a finger on my wife—ever. I’mma take good care of you, you’ll see.”

[littlespace-imagines]

This is kinda detailed (feel free to ignore)

A king/prince vampire coming home from like a awful meeting to human! Little reader who has recently had a boo boo (probably from tripping while playing or something like that), and since the vampire can smell the blood, he’s instantly at the readers side and basically being a softie for them

Absolutely!

Cg!Vampire (Vince) x little!reader

Contains: fluff, cursing, description of bloody injury, split nail, more than one POV, cgl dynamics, established relationships, vince is the goth daddy of every littles dreams

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

(Vince’s POV)

I didn’t anticipate getting called into work especially one one of the rare days my little one is able to visit but here I was, fuming mad and looking over my employees.

“How does someone fuck up this badly?” I ask calmly, taking in the faces of the people sitting before me, all dressed in suits but avoiding my gaze. I ran a hand through my hair and looked back over the board.

“Well? Did you all go mute?” I ask, a bit harsher this time,

A woman clears her throat and my eyes snap to her I see her flinch at my hard gaze,

“Well, Sir, uh, Martha went on maternity leave.” She says

“And? Is it not your job to assign the workload to another person?” I ask and she nods

“Yes, it is, I thought I had sent an email about it to Anthony, Sir.” She responds

“Ah I see. So you didn’t send the email to Anthony.” I say as calmly as possible she once again nods. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and look over the same documents again.

“Christina, you’re fired, if you can’t do your job you do t have a place here. Anthony, you’re hired onto her position, congratulations you get a raise. Oh and sam please post a job opening and I was no less than 10 resumes and applications on my desk by Monday. As for the rest of you let this incident be a fucking example that I don’t tolerate slacking at this company.” I say before turning to leave, I walked my way to my car and climbed in. I thought about calling my baby who’s at my house, alone and unfamiliar with everything, they’ve only been over a couple of times and I felt bad to leave them.

I decided I’d stop by their favorite fast food restaurant and order their favorite meal, food always cheers them up. Once I’ve gotten the food I drive straight home as fast as I can, as I’m coming up the driveway I can hear the soft sound of them pattering around, I smile to myself as I hear them running towards the door as soon as I start unlocking the door, I open it just in time to catch them falling, food held safely in one hand and my arm wrapped around them to keep them safe. I take in their shocked face followed be relief, I stop for a second to admire the adorable way their dressed,

They look up at me briefly before I smell it.

They’re bleeding.

I quickly sit everything I’m holding on the very end table they almost fell from, I inspect their foot and quickly find the bleeding toe, I look up and see the tears running down their face and I can feel panic rising in me.

Panic, I haven’t felt that in so long.

I run to the bathroom grabbing some cartoon character bandaids they insist I keep for them because they’re clumsy, and a small first aid kit. I run back and sit on the floor infront of them before I realize I have no clue what I’m doing,

“Oh god fuck, what did I do?” I ask, looking up at them

“You don’t know what to do?” They ask me and I shake my head, I can see the grip on their stuffed animal tighten in worry,

“Love, I’ve been undead for nearly three centuries, the last time I went to a doctor they gave me leaches and prescribed me chlorodyne which is now known as chloroform.” I said with a chuckle as they looked at me with wide eyes

“I, I, I don’t know, I can’t think.” They mumble and I for the first time take a good look at them, they’re little. They’re little and their hurt and I don’t know what to do.

I feel angry, I’m angry at myself, how could I let this happen?

“Daddy?” They ask and my eyes snap up to their eyes,

“Yes, love?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady

“I think I just need a bandaid, it’ll be okay.” They say and I nod, holding the box up to them, they pick out a very cute and very tiny bandaid, I follow the instructions on the back, making sure the cotton pad is directly over the bleeding.

I stand up and scoop the into my arms, they wrap their legs around my waist and bury their head in the crook of my neck, I smile and hold them tightly, hoping that maybe I can love away the pain.

“Oh, yes, I got you some food.” I say and they perk up,

“Did you get my favorite?” They ask and I laugh,

“Yes, Ofcourse.” I say,

Once I get them settled down and eating with their drink poured in their favorite sippy cup and their favorite cartoon I excuse myself, I quickly grab the now empty end table and take it to the back yard, with a single throw the end table is nearly obliterated, pieces of wood and screws litter the yard, I pick up every piece I can before throwing it in the garbage and make my way back inside.

Atleast for now I don’t have to worry about the end table anymore.

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x reader - I need you

- Lestrade x Reader - Reader is an officer for Scotland Yard and a suspect shoots/ stabs them fatally and Reader dies in Greg's arms. Extra angst if they're not in a relationship and Reader's last words are 'I love you' and Greg doesn't get to say it back - @mxacegrey 💜

Crouching behind the police car, gun in your hand you looked at the man next to you.

“Do we have a clear shot?” You whispered.

“No, they’ve can’t get a clear shot because of the hostage.”

You moved to the other side of the car and looked at the sobbing woman, you didn’t know what to do, if anyone made a move he was going to hurt her.

You couldn’t let that happen, so you peaked around the car and you realised there was a way to get around this.

You looked to Lestrade and you gestured for him to come over.

“Move the riot unit to behind that building, Anderson and Donovan need to keep him distracted. If we can get behind those bushes we’ll have a short window before he notices…”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s anxious, alert. He checks all around him frequently, a minute is all we have to move officers behind the bushes, he won’t see them. From there two officers can strike, one grabs him and the other grabs the woman.”

Lestrade looked at you then to the rest of the force who was waiting for some sort of direction.

He trusted you, and he knew you thought carefully about this so he nodded and moved, and you watched the man follow Lestrade with his head.

Using this as a chance you quickly crawled to the next car, looking around you pointed to an officer and he moved over.

“With me.”

“Right.”

You waited for the moment to move, which took more time then you wanted, but soon enough you were slowly moving behind the bushes to get to the opening behind the man.

“We have one chance, you follow me. When I grab him, you need to grab her and get her out of there, okay?”

“Yeah, got it.”

You waited again, and slowly you started to move, but it was Anderson who gave the whole plan away.

He looked at you, which made the man look and you made a split second choice.

Running, you grabbed both his arms and threw him to the ground, while the woman was rushed away you were knocked to the floor and you felt a sharp pain in your side.

“(Y/N)!”

The man was tackled off you, and Lestrade ran over, dropping to his knees next to you.

He started to pat around your vest, and he felt the gap in the fabric of it.

Carefully he undid the vest, and peeled it back to show your blood soaked shirt and he cursed under his breath.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing serious. I just need to get this off.”

He carefully moved you in order to get the vest off, and he took his jacket off, folding it he placed it under your head.

Lestrade placed a hand over the wound, applying pressure to it to try and stop the bleeding, and the other on the side of your face.

You were gasping for air, your hand shaking as you brought it up to grip his hand tightly, pulling it away from your face as you clutched it.

“L..Lestrade… it… it hurts..”

“Shh, okay. It’s okay, you’re okay…” he whispered.

He looked at his hand which was covered in blood, seeping through his fingers and to the floor.

“Crap.. crap!” He yelled, “we need an ambulance hurry up!”

He turned his attending back to you, and he lifted your shirt a little to see the blood just pouring out of your abdomen.

“Oh god..”

He quickly pulled your shirt back down and tried pressed his hand back to the wound but he couldn’t get a good grip.

He pulled his tie from his neck, getting your blood on his neck and shirt but he didn’t care. He used the tie to put pressure on the wound.

You had tears falling from your face, and he reached up, hand still in yours as he wiped some of your tears.

“I’m here, just hang in there helps coming, it’s coming…”

You turned your eyes to his and you breathed shakily.

“It.. it hurts.. Greg I.. I.. I can’t..”

“You can. Okay? You can! You.. you have too…”

He was trying to keep himself calm and composed for you, but it was next to impossible.

Looking at you, bleeding on the floor, begging and crying because you were in so much pain. He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

He placed the back of his hand to your cheek, turning your head to face him and you looked at him, heaving for breath.

Blood was trickling from your lips, you could hardly breath.

Quickly Lestrade acted, hand pressing into your wound making you cry out in pain and he apologised as he rested your back against his chest.

Your head was on his shoulder, and you were breathing deeply, your hand still clutched in his, and your other hand wrapped around your abdomen, fingers brushing against his.

“Ambulance is a few minutes out!” Someone shouted.

“You hear that? A few minutes, just a few more minutes…”

You heard him but you didn’t say anything in reply.

You looked at all the blood around, on your clothes and his hand, still pouring out and the realisation hit you.

Even if you got into that ambulance you didn’t have a good chance of making it, you didn’t have to be Sherlock to know that one.

“Greg… Greg I.. I need to tell you.. something…”

“Tell me in the hospital okay?”

“No.. no… you… it has to.. be now…”

You slowly titled your head back, bringing your free hand up to his face, gently touching his cheek.

Lestrade heard the sirens.

“I… I love you…”

He stared down at you in shock, and you gave a weak smiling.

Your vision was pulsating, and your body felt heavy.

“I.. I love… you…” you repeated.

Lestrade leant into your touch, and he then leant down and kissed the top of your head, looking down at you.

He went to reply, but he realised your hand wasn’t holding his face anymore, it was on the floor.

Your other hand that was clutching his was limp, and your eyes were closed.

“(Y/N)…”

He gently shook you.

“(Y/N)? No. No. No. no. No. Wake up. Please, wake up, wake up!”

He laid your on the floor and stared to push down on your chest, trying to remember how to do CPR.

His tears fell on your face, but he didn’t stop, he kept going, anything to keep your heart beating just a little longer as the ambulance came around the corner.

“Wake up!” He yelled.

Paramedics rushed up, and pushed him away, no matter how much he yelled and begged and pleaded for them not to take you away they did.

Lestrade fell back, Anderson appeared behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting his boss lean against his legs as he stared at your being taken away.

Lestrade looked down at his bloodied hands, your blood. The hands that you held so tightly when you took your last breath.

You told him you loved him.

You.

You loved him.

He’d been waiting to hear those ever since he first laid eyes on you but he could never build up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Lestrade slowly pushed himself from the floor, stumbling a few steps as he grabbed his jacket, and barged past Anderson to get to his car.

He got in and he just sat there, bloodied hands gripping the steering wheel as he just stared straight away.

You loved him.

And he couldn’t even say it back.

He couldn’t ask you on a date.

He couldn’t see your smile.

Couldn’t hear your laugh.

Couldn’t do anything he loved dong with you.

You had been ripped away from him.

He didn’t know what to do, a large hole suddenly appeared in his life, and he felt like it was going to eat him whole.

You were the one thing in his life that gave him the strength and the courage to put up with whatever crap life was going to throw at him, and now he didn’t have that anymore.

He reached over and went to grab your coat, but he stopped himself, not wanting to get it dirty and he pulled his hand away.

“I need you (Y/N)…”

Because he did.

Greg Lestrade needed you in his life, because without you he had nothing good anymore