#same thing. you can never go back home but you can press on the bruise and the satisfaction is the same

[starshipsofstarlord]

sub!daryl headcanons

summary. what it would be like to have a subby daryl at your hands 🥵😭

warnings. smut obviously, hair pulling, aftercare, oral (both male and female receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex, ass slapping, saliva swapping, praising, teasing, finger and nipple sucking, pet names (and a little degradation), fluff

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

he will literally do whatever you say, he is just pussy whipped and a lil’ obedient when it comes to you. all he wants is for you to praise him and make him feel better, and loved. being the submissive one in the relationship makes him feel so taken care of, and it’s something he’s never had before, and he is so appreciative that you’re willing to be his care and pleasure giver

pulling his hair always has him whining desperately, especially if you’re sat on his cock or stroking it when doing so. it just sparks some kind of feral control over him, and he’ll gasp and groan and beg for more, and it’s an easy way to grasp his attention if he’s distracted by his own thoughts or current ongoings

you’d tease his swollen cock, making the archer buckle beneath you as you hovered above him, as you’d line up his cock with your pussy. to make him even more desperate and more of a whimpering mess, you’d slip just the head in your entrance, pulling it out and sliding it through your folds, repeating the action. he’d be babbling for more, hardly being able to make out words as he’s near tears

he will eat you out for hours, until his jaw is aching and cramping, it is his favourite meal, no matter what mood he’s in. whether he’s feeling submissive or just lost, he sees it as his home. he buries his face in between your legs, desperate to please you, and he’d look up to make sure that he’s doing a good job and pleasing you

when you grab his hips, he feels so small (even if there is a size difference), he’d love it. it makes him feel safe and looked after, and he knows he can rely on you, to not only subside his hunger to feel pleasure, but in general. and he is addictive to seeing whether or not he has bruises on his hips, he loves to press his fingers down on them and feel the ache above his hipbone and remember all of the things that had lead to that. you also pin him down by his hips if he acts up whilst you’re having sex or being gracious enough to give him a blow job; it’s a reminder that you’re in control, and he loves that, especially considering how often he has to take charge out on runs with some of the idiots that have joined your community

it’s dirty, he knows it, but he loves it when you brush your fingers or one of your thumbs against his lips, sliding them in past them and ordering him to suck them. sometimes you’ll push them in farther, forcing him to gag on your fingers and he loves how breathless it makes him, and he can physically feel the tears prick at his eyes

if he’s a good boy, which he tries his best to be, you’ll comb your fingers through he’s hair, whether at the time he’s giving you oral or is laying on your chest after an exhausting session together. he loves to use your tits as a pillow, no big or small they are, and if he’s dazed or just feeling needy, he’ll begin suckling on your nipples, not only because he wants to but he knows that you’ll play with his locks

there are a fair few positions the two of you have tried, but you always end up going back to the same two that make you feel closer. cowgirl is the most often, where he can see your tits bouncing in his face and he can bury it in them, sucking on your tits and drooling from the pleasure, muffling his moans in your womanly globes. reverse cowgirl makes him feel so light headed, where he can see you using his fat cock, and you dig your fingernails into his legs causing him to whimper. if you’re in the missionary position, he’ll chortle in bliss, pounding in you as fast or slow as you want him to

kind of a repeat, but he loves loves loves to be praised, it makes his chest feel full of pride, and his stomach swarm with butterflies. phrases like ‘good boy’ make him feel appreciated and encourages him to keep up his good work. ‘dirty redneck’ is a term you save for when he’s practically salivating and unable to keep his hands from touching you. it makes him even harder than before, and it turns him on when you slap his hands away

bruising kisses that take his breath away are a must, he tries to kiss you more when his eyes closed, and although he should have realised that you’d have pulled away as you often do, he opens his eyes with annoyance, it’s as though sometimes you encourage his brat attitude . and so you bite his lip, nipping at it as though you’re threatening to draw blood

you cherish him all, and if he’s feeling particularly insecure, you’ll show adoration for his entire body, including his scars. you’ll lay him down on the bed, his cock pressing achingly hard into the sheets as you flutter kisses across the permanent lines in his back. whether they’re old or new scars, you’ll show love to them all the same, telling him how beautiful he is and how you are so lucky to ‘have a good boy like him’

it’s a reward, and he knows it. although he can’t help himself from acting like a starved man if you sit on his face, he’ll devour your pussy, wanting to taste you for as long as you allow him to, eyes flittering between your perfectly rested mound and your face, which is either unfocused and thrown back in pleasure as you use him, or glaring with integrity down at him, which would make his cock twitch with anticipation

if he’s feeling a little risky he will begin grabbing your hair, although he knows that he has been taught better by you. he’d earn a slap on the hand, or you’d curl your fingers tightly around his wrist with a vice grip, and he would freeze. and so in response you’d tease his cock and grasp the base of it tightly, causing his breaths to become stuttered

at times when he’s cock is filling you up amidst your instructions, your reach down and fondle his balls, playing with them to cause him to thrust in surprise inside of you. again, it was just another reason for you to scold him, and you’d grasp his ass cheek, slapping it, and although he tells you he despises it his lies slip through as he moans in pleasure

he was is thirsty submissive, and he’ll open his mouth before you’ve even asked him to, awaiting for you to spit in his mouth. and you would, and he’d hold your saliva inside of his mouth until you commanded him to swallow. he’d be on his knees with an open mouth, just patiently waiting because he knows you can’t say no to that particular desire of his

when you’re feeling horny, you’ll take him as you please. you’ll shove him against walls, on the bed, or any surface that will do. you’ll pin him wherever, just so you can feel in control of something. he knows to oblige without refusal then, even if it makes things difficult, such as when you caress his jean clad cock whilst you’re seated behind him on his bike, and he has to pour all of his focus into not veering

caressing his cheek after he’s cum is almost like a ritual, his cheeks are flushed from the heated blood that has become pigmented on his face, as he huffs to catch his breath. he’ll go all dosey, as he leans into your touch, although he always holds off from cumming until you tell him to

he’s a moaner, shattered versions of your name will escape his lips. hell even mumble it when you’re in the shower, the spray of water falling on you both, even if you aren’t having sex in there. you’ll douse him in body wash if you were lucky enough to find some on a run, rubbing his chest and back and removing the sweat that has smothered his body. and you’ll gently clean his cock, causing him to heave out high pitched whimpers from the overstimulation but he loves it

[brother-emperors]

‘Is there a point to any of this or do you just want to see how much more I can take?’ snaps Crassus. ‘Oh, I knew there was still some bite left in you,’ says Cethegus, thrilled. Cethegus teaches Crassus the art of politics and the ways of business. Sulla is not a fan.

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

Crassus, Catilina, and the Vestal Virgins, Ronald Syme

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

[bonkwrites]

Civilian Life

READ PART TWO: SIMON’S FANTASY 

READ PART THREE: GIRL’S NIGHT

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, Minors DNI, dirty talk, domestic!Simon, PIV sex, riding, fluff and smut, hair pulling, doggy, missionary, riding, fingering, cunnilingus

* - * - * - * - * - * 

Simon wonders, when he's too exhausted to breathe and drifting off to sleep, what you're doing at home. In his flat. In his bed. He doesn't get a phone, not on missions, because of the risk. His phone can be traced back to him, to his face, to you. He'll never take the risk of putting you in danger. 

Never. 

But he's a fucking softie for you, and so he wonders. Are you sleeping? Are you up watching telly? Are you laying in bed, minutes before you'll fall asleep, thinking the same thing he's thinking? 

And God, he'll come home and sleep for three days straight, tired and worn down, and you sleep right there with him. You take the week off work every single time he comes home just to spend time with him. You rub that bruise-balm on the bruises he has from fighting and then you press up on your fucking tip-toes to kiss him. 

"God, you are perfect," he purrs, hands on your back, holding you against him. You'll giggle, try to escape his arms, and it'll end with you pressed up against the wall, losing your 'fight' and kissing him. 

You put your hands on his cheeks, you let him lift you to hold you against the wall, and you whimper when his hands squeeze your waist. Perfect. Woman.

You go out with him, you drag him around to little markets and cafes. You hold his hand, overjoyed he's home alive, and London seems to decide the rain is over when you're out. The tiny spots of sun light up your face and if Simon could bribe the sun to stay out and the clouds to fuck off he would. 

"Simon," there's a hand on his shoulder as he zones out into a market table of jewelry while you look at them, "didn't know you were in London." 

It's John at his side, the captain, and you light up when you see him. 

"John!" You haven't seen him since the wedding and so you jump at the chance to pull him into a hug. John gives you a friendly post on the back, chuckling. 

"Nice to see you, love." John says as you pull away. 

"You too! Oh, I haven't seen you since the wedding!" You can't keep the smile off your face. The last time you were all together was Johnny's wedding and god was that a night… 

He remembers the drunk sex you had in the back of his car, the way you babbled about needing to be the next girl to get married, that you wanted to be his wife… 

"How've you been?" John's voice pulls him back from his memory. 

"Great! Happy to be out." You reply. "The weather's finally nice."

"It is." John looks across the street, "couple of the boys and me are getting lunch across the street, wanna stop in?" 

You look up at Simon, asking him if it's okay with your eyes. 

"Sure." Simon replies. You smile up at him and reach over to take his hand. 

Gaz, Johnny, Johnny's girl, and Konig are across at the restaurant. They pull in chairs for you and Simon and you sit. 

"Konig," you smile at him, sitting next to him with Simon on the other side, "surprised to see you! Why're you in London?" 

"Uhm," he's unsure of himself unless he's got a gun in his hand, has been since Simon met him, "just visiting, I haven't been to London since I was little." 

"How do you like it?" Then begins the small talk. You tell everyone about your new job, about the puppy you want, and you laugh as they all gang up on him for not getting it for you. 

"She's gotta be lonely while you're off on missions," John jokes. 

"Bad boyfriend behavior Simon," Kaz says. 

You bite your lips to keep yourself from laughing too hard and Simon jokes that they're all his squad mates and that they'll be watching their own backs next time. 

You don't get home until nearly half-past seven, you eat pizza on the couch and watch telly until you're going off to be with him behind you. 

It's supposed to be a goodnight kiss. You're in your little satin tank top and shorts set, hands on his chest, pressing against him. Simon can't help himself. He can't help the way his lips trail to your neck, the way his teeth tease at your skin, and he definitely loses all control when he hears you gasp his name. 

Fuck it all to hell. 

He leaves your neck blooming with black and blue, he squeezes your hips and dips his finger into your shorts to grope your ass. You whimper for him, you thread your fingers in his short hair and you tug it, and when your knees go weak you just get on them. 

Simon groans when you look up at him, your hands on his pajama bottoms, lips already slightly parted. Can I? Simon wonders why you ask. He nods, his fingers in your hair. His pajamas hit the floor and you take him in your hand, eyes drifting closed when you wrap your mouth around him. 

"Fuck, love, the shit you do to me…" He groans. This is what he tries to imagine when he takes himself into his hand in the rare alone moments on missions. He tries to imagine the way your mouth feels around him. 

It never compares. 

You've got a horrible gag reflex when you're tense, and you're always tense. Simon hears you gag and a shiver runs up his spine. He knows it’s painful, and that you hate it, but it’s all in your head that you’re going to gag. He’s gotta get you out of your head. 

"Take it slow," he grumbles, "not going anywhere." 

You pull your mouth off of him and lick your lips as you stare up at him. 

"Will you fuck my throat?" You ask it like he'll say no, like 'no' is an option. Simon wouldn't be a man if he said no to that. 

He imagines the headspace it put you in too and god he's fucked. 

"'Course I will, sweetheart," he replies and you smile up at him before your mouth is hanging open again. Devastating. 

Simon eases himself in, he reminds you to breathe through your nose, then he takes your hair in his hand… makes a ponytail in his fucking fist… and starts to fuck your throat. He sees your eyes roll back at one point and he wonders if you're enjoying this more than he is. He hears you whimper, feels your fingertips and your nails dig into his thighs and god he just wants to make you take it because he knows how much you love it when does. 

You go fucking crazy for him to take your control out of your hands, for him to make you his. He has to pull your mouth off of him so that he doesn't cum down your throat. He has to fuck you, he hasn't fucked you in so long. 

"S-Simon-" your voice is almost a whine, almost asking him why he stopped. He chuckles. 

"Gotta fuck you," Simon replies, just as breathless as you are, "Gotta fuck you, okay?" 

“P-” you stutter, let him pull you to your feet, “-Please.” 

Your legs shake as he pulls your tank top over your head. You never wear a bra to bed, an added bonus to every night he gets to sleep next to you, and Simon wants to fall to his knees and mark your chest up like it’s his only job. Your knees have to be killing you though, and so he gets you out of your shorts and onto the bed on your back. 

“Simon…” his hands trail down your thighs, they knead your skin. Your soft, soft fucking skin. He’s gotta get his mouth between your thighs. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He’d fuck you in a second but he’s gotta draw it out. 

He wants to give you a night you brag about to your girlfriends tomorrow. He loves hearing the way you brag about his skills. 

Simon sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed and he takes your thighs in each hand to pull you closer. Your legs dangle over his shoulders, you’re watching him without breathing. His hands press your hips to the bed when they wiggle, he tries to give you his most dangerous eyes. 

“Stay still,” he says, “or else.” 

“Or else?” you tease, not too far gone to give him shit and Simon commits himself to remedying it. “What would you do to me? Oh, please don’t punish me Ghost, I promise I’ll be a good girl.” 

You’re giggling, you have the audacity to giggle while he’s between your legs but what has Simon freezing isn’t your giggles, it’s the way you called him Ghost. You know his code name, of course you do, but you’ve never used it. Never. Simon get’s impossibly harder at the fantasy that pops into his head. 

Bending you over a table, handcuffing you, pushing you close to the edge again and again with all of his gear on, pressing you for information you won’t give… promising to make you cum if you just give me the intel, sweetheart. He’s gotta tell you about it later. You’d be down for it, his little freak. 

Simon rolls his eyes at your giggling and presses your thighs open to get his fucking mouth on you. You gasp, one of your hands is in your hair, the other one is thrown over your face, hiding behind it. Simon presses his arm over your lower belly to pin you down and presses two fingertips to your hole. You spread your legs wider, you cry out his name, and Simon sinks two of his fingers into you. God, the way you clench around them makes his head spin. 

“I-I’m-” it’s so early, so fast, that it throws you off guard. You try to close your legs around his head, stop him from going further, but he elbows them open and keeps his fingers moving. 

“My poor girl,” Simon whispers against the skin of your thighs, “always so neglected when I’m off on a mission, aren’t you?” 

“A-Am. I am.” your hips twitch, you squirm on his fingers, and Simon groans at the way your back arches. 

“Let me make it up to you, love.” he replies, voice low and dark. Simon is intent on getting you to cum atleast once more before he turning you over and fucking you just the way you like. 

“Simon!” you squeal, legs twitching to close. You work hard to keep them open, just the way you know he likes, shaking like a damn leaf. 

“One more, sweetheart, gimme one fucking more.” Simon growls before he’s putting his mouth back on you and sucking your clit into his mouth. 

You sob, your legs close around his head and he thinks try to push me away, try it love because he knows you like it when he pushes you, he knows how you like it when he takes control of your body. You can’t stop the incoherent rambles of his name and please and stop that tumble from your lips. You try to lift your hips off the bed but he shoves them down. You try to back yourself up to get away from him but he keeps you pinned with an arm across your stomach. You slap your hands over your mouth to keep yourself from screaming and Simon reacts, lifting his arm off your stomach to pin them down with your hips by the wrists. 

You cum screaming his name, trying to break his neck with your fucking thighs and spasming around his fingers. He’s never seen you cum that hard and now he’s hooked. 

“Why did you-” you pant, struggling with your words, “the-the neighbors Simon…” 

“Don’t fucking care,” he grumbles, he kisses your quaking thighs, “pieces of shite anyways.” 

“Simon…” you’re trying to sound scold-y, like you’re angry with him, but when he crawls up your body and kisses you, you stop complaining. He’s gotta give you time to recover after something like that, and so he just holds you for a little while, kissing you and running his hands calmly over your back. 

You start kissing him again after a while, tongue tangled with his, breath heavy, eyes lidded. He can feel your skin grow hotter, clammier, and you throw your leg over his hip to get him on his back. 

“Goddamnit…” he groans when you sit up, hands splayed across his chest, back arched to grind against him. He puts a hand under his head, the other reaching down to grab your hip and guide you. 

You lift your hips, reach down beneath you and line him up. God, you sink yourself down on him and you just can’t keep yourself from grinding on him. Simon watches you lift your hips, hears the way you moan and watches you throw your head back with it. He fills you up nicely, has had you crying your compliments more than once, and you like to savor it when you’re on top. You grind your hips, you drag them up and down his cock slowly, and within ten minutes Simon’s a goddamn mess for you. He thrusts his hips upwards, he uses his hands on your hips to control the drag of your hips, and you fall apart on top of him. 

“Ch-Change me,” you whimper, losing speed and stamina, “O-On my- want you from behind-” 

You don’t need to tell him twice. 

Simon gets you to your chest, knees spread, back arched, hands gripping the sheets above your head. Simon is a gentleman, or at least he can be, and so he moves your hair out of your face and gathers it into a ponytail in his fist to pull it. You gasp, hips squirming to grind against him. Simon holds your hips still with one hand. 

“You’re gonna take it like my good little slut, aren’t you?” you nod, whimpering, clenching down around nothing. 

“I’m yours- your good little slut,” you whisper against the sheets, eyes shut and rolled back. Simon sinks in, so fucking slow, and sob with it. You’ve told him before this angle is different, deeper, more sensitive. You can’t stop the way your hips twitch and grind against, it’s impossible with how desperate you’ve become. 

Simon’s hips snap forward and you cry out his name as he starts to fuck you. You’re both so sensitive, so desperate from him being away, that it's not gonna be long before he’s pulling out to cum on your thighs. He groans at the image his memory brings up for him of your thighs all covered with him. He releases your hair to sit up, hands on your ass and hips, groping a cheek before he pulls his hand back to spank you. You sob, hand reaching back to push at his naval. 

“Don’t fucking think so,” he growls, pinning your wrists in one of his hands and fucking you harder for it, “fucking take it,” 

Your hips still, back arched as far down as it’ll go, legs spread wider as you pulse around him through your third orgasm of the night. You moan, the bed bumps against the wall, and Simon’s grip on your wrists and hip tightens. 

“Where, love?” he grits out. 

“Inside,” you cry, “please, inside,” 

Who the fuck is he to argue? He goes still, buried inside of you, and has the best orgasm of his fucking life. You take it like the perfect girl you are, whimpering when he pulls out. He grabs a towel, puts it under your hips but he’s depraved, a sick fucking man, because he kneels behind you and watches it drip out of you for a second before he wipes you down with a towel and turns you over. 

Fucked out, googly eyed, you pull him down for Simon’s guiltest of guilty pleasures: naked, after-sex cuddles. 

[meownotgood]

inevitable. / gojo satoru x gn!reader, angst & fluff, love confessions; satoru writing practice.

When Satoru comes home, it's another broken promise. 

He shows up well past midnight, with his knuckles bruised purple and his palms rubbed raw. His uniform is a filthy tattered mess. His blindfold hangs loosely around his neck. His head hurts more than usual, his jaw aches from the way he's been clenching it. 

Every window is dark, all the lights are off. The key to your apartment is under the mat, same as always. He steps in and closes the door behind him as silently as possible, he half-hopes you aren't awake even though that'd ruin the entire purpose to him coming. Sighing, he tries to will himself to relax, but his hands remain shaky as he clicks the lock shut. 

"You're home." 

The familiar sound of your voice doesn't surprise him — Instead, like an instinct, it makes his shoulders slump, his muscles loosen. A tingle runs across his spine and his heart sparks alight, he's home. He's missed this. Problem is, he doesn't deserve to miss this. 

"I'm home." Satoru parrots; hand frozen on the doorknob, he doesn't turn around to look at you because he isn't sure if he should. 

"I missed you." You say, ever-so softly. It finds a way to be both the worst and the best thing he's ever heard. Don't say that. 

Satoru swallows. "I missed you too." 

A few seconds of silence. Your tone's gone level. "Thought you said you weren't coming back." 

His hands sting when he closes and opens them. Close, open, they're getting sweaty. He can feel his heart thudding and his breath quickening, his blood boiling. His pulse thrums in his own neck, his throat closes up and he can't even speak. He assumed he wouldn't be coming back too. Yet here he is. 

Turning to face you, Satoru balls those same hands up into fists. This is his fault, and he doesn't think he can fix it, there's just no way. But he can't just leave things as they are, what is he supposed to do? For the first time in a long time, he's utterly lost. 

"I-" 

You interrupt him before he can get a word in. 

"I'm glad you're here, Satoru." 

He blinks. He's got no idea what to say to that. Not a damn clue. 

"You've been crying." You're continuing, your arms fall limp from where they were crossed, "Are you alright? What's going on?" 

Yeah, he's sure he looks the part, he was just hoping you wouldn't notice. He bets his eyes are as swollen and red as they feel, with deep dark bags set in underneath. 

It's foreign. He's never cried like this. He never cried when he was a kid, he hasn't cried even when he felt at his lowest — but there's something about you that's always brought out the weakness in him. Something about you he couldn't explain, something that has him breaking down the whole way here because the thought of losing you tears his ignorant heart right out of his chest. 

Satoru sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. His bottom lip is quivering. Your quiet apartment is getting smaller and smaller around him.

"I'm fine," He hears his own voice and it doesn't sound like himself, "I'm good." 

"Stop it. Tell me the truth, Satoru." 

Satoru. The way you utter his name hurts him more than anything. 

His eyes narrow, he stares at his feet, "Don't worry about me. Please." 

"I can't, I can't when you clearly aren't okay." 

"Come on," He grumbles at that, the bridge of his nose crinkles, a defeated expression takes over his features, "I'm fine, I already told you." 

"Tsk," You take a step forward, "You're such an idiot sometimes, I think you're just-" 

"Why aren't you mad? Tell me." 

You stop, falling silent. Satoru realizes he'd spoken a little louder than he wanted to. His head dips down. His brows furrow like he's the angry one, "You tell me, because I don't get it. I don't understand what the hell you're thinking, I never have. God, you- you should be pissed!" 

"Satoru-" 

He presses his fingers to his temple, he's gritting his teeth, "But you aren't, not even close, you don't even care. I don't- you're so kind and I- Why? Why won't you tell me to leave?" 

He's being childish, immature. He knows, but he can't help it. He can't wrap his head around why you're still here. Why you've stayed, why you've greeted him at the door like everything is normal after he told you he was never coming back — This'll be the last time I see you. It's for your own good. — He's tried everything to push you away, and yet none of it has worked. Nothing. 

Satoru could never be close to you. He wants to be, God does he want to be. But he can't, you can't. You'll be targeted. You'll wind up assassinated. The strongest sorcerer has always been the strongest when he's all alone. Satoru fears the day will come where he won't be strong enough to protect you. You make him far too soft, and this world is too cruel and too dark to allow any glimmers of light. 

And you understand that, don't you? 

His eyes flicker up, he scans your face, your expression unreadable. You offer him the faintest smile, and you answer. 

"For the same reason you haven't left yet." 

You've always understood. From the moment you met him, you've known. 

You're aware of the consequences. You know what could happen to you. And you know damn well Satoru could disappear at any time; it's part of who he is, what he has to become. You've stuck by his side at every opportunity regardless. He's important to you. He's good at his core. To you, Gojo Satoru is the most pleasant dream you've ever had, an unreachable star — The universe he lives in is so far from your own and yet no-one has ever understood you more than him. 

You're the one who knows all of his secrets, and him with yours. Sometimes he thinks you know him better than he knows himself. Even when he leaves, even when he's gone off on another mission all alone with no sign of when he'll return, you'll be here, waiting for him. You'll hug him close and tell him you missed him, every single time. 

This is his doing. All of this is. He's an idiot. 

Satoru keeps his gaze focused on you: wavering skies of blue, cloudy with hesitance. You step in closer, your voice is much quieter. 

"I'm not mad at you." You reach forward, taking his hands, squeezing them. His breath can't help but hitch. He's been waiting for your touch for a long time now. You don't comment on the bruises, you're used to them. "I care about you too much for that, you know?"

"I know," Satoru rubs your knuckles with his thumbs, he lets go of a long, trembling breath, "I know." 

"Stay for the night." You ask, and between his gnawing ache to have you close and the way you lace your fingers with his own, grasping tenderly — his battered hands in your delicate hold — he doesn't think there's ever a world where he could say no. "Just for tonight, okay? We can figure things out." 

"I'll stay. I'm sorry," He blinks away the water welling up beneath his lashes, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you, I- I'm just so sorry." 

"It's okay. I've already forgiven you." 

"I won't leave like that again. I promise. I promise you." 

Your palm finds his cheek. He leans into your touch, he wants to collapse. 

You were the one who showed him peace could be more than only fleeting, but he's the one who was foolish enough to get so attached to you. And right now, he's the one who just can't manage to let you go. 

This same vicious cycle is what he's fallen into, he comes back to your arms only to leave again and again. It'll keep going like this until you get sick of it all, or until something takes you away from him. He hates it. He's always hated it more than anything, hasn't he? He wants to savor your presence for as long as it'll last, he doesn't want to keep leaving like this, he doesn't want to lose you. 

The reason why you're still here is the same as his own. It's why he can't leave you, why he could never leave you, no matter how hard he tries. It's because — 

"I love you." 

The huge weight he'd been carrying for God knows how long finally shifts off of his shoulders — like releasing a held breath, like pieces lining into place. His vision blurs at the edges, he doesn't understand the gravity of what he's just said until seconds later, when it's too late to go back and when you're staring at him wide-eyed, caught in surprise.

There's a look behind his eyes that's hopeful, soft, scared. He's shaking again, from his shoulders to his hands. "Shit, I really shouldn't say that, huh?"

Satoru hides those hints of nervousness behind his usual smile, he huffs a half-hearted sort of laugh, he brings a palm to his face and covers it, "Ahhhh, you're right, I'm an idiot. You're… important to me, that's all I'm trying to say. I still don't know what I'm going to do, I can't risk putting you in danger. But I'll figure something out. I owe it to you." 

For a couple of moments, you don't speak. Satoru listens to the pound of his heart in his ears. He'd break the silence if he knew of anything better to say. Then, you close the distance between him and yourself, and he notices, but he isn't about to stop you. 

You're reaching for him and he's letting it happen; you embrace him, wrap your arms around him tight, and he's sinking, falling. Finally. He's needed this so much. 

Hesitantly at first, he allows himself to hold you back, and then hard, he embraces you almost desperately. Curled over your form, he rests his forehead on your shoulder, he squeezes you firm, he melts into your arms. He's all around you, he relaxes fully for the first time in ages and allows his muscles to grow weary, heavy.

You're warm. Your palm rubs his back in gentle circles, Satoru draws in a slow and shuddering breath between pouty lips like a child. 

Your words are everything he's always wanted to hear. 

"I love you too." 

He can't help but smile, can't help but feel the apples of his cheeks growing warm, "Yeah? I love you more." 

You smirk even though he can't see it, your palm reaches the back of his head and you press him closer, so close he thinks he might implode. 

A pause. "I'm scared, to tell you the truth." He confesses, "I don't want to hurt you." 

His chest is aching, just at the thought. Your fingers meet his soft hair and he sighs deeply, he holds you like he'd fall to pieces if he let go. 

You mutter quietly, earnestly, "You could never hurt me. Not ever." 

Satoru grips the back of your shirt hard. "Could curse you pretty bad, though." 

Your voice curls right into his ear. "Think so?" 

Slowly, deliberately, you start to pull away from him, just enough to lock his gaze with yours and hold his chin between two of your fingers. He's in a trance as you drag him closer, your head tilting, free hand teasing when it ghosts the back of his neck. 

Perhaps he knew he'd give in to you from the very beginning. Maybe he's stupid for this. He's always been such a fool for you. But he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and by his side, he's already decided. He'll love you as much as someone who never could possibly can. Whatever it takes. 

"If you're gonna curse me-" You're leaning in, he follows your pull; his eyelids flutter closed, his head is so dizzy he feels light, his nerves throb with anticipation. His plush lips brush yours and you speak right up against them. 

"... At least make it count." 

And when you kiss, Satoru's finally reached right into heaven. 

his character is hard to write. but I'm learning... I think

[simpjaes]

hon what abt hee/hoon/jay/jake/whoever u want reactions to u actually reach ur limit and say ur safe word during the very steamy and animalistic fuck

hyung line + reaching your limit and saying the safe word

warnings: dub con(ish), use of color coded safe words, rough sex, double penetration/anal, instances of bruises being visible on your skin, jake loses his damn mind, choking, squirting/mentions of piss, attempts at fisting and being sunghoon's size queen lmfao

not proof read

★ heeseung:

he would be so deep inside of you, plunging in faster and deeper than you ever thought possible based on your previous intimate moments with him.

nothing seems to have happened to render Heeseung so...into it tonight. Calling you up and practically demanding you be at his door within ten minutes or he's never going to talk to you again. You could tell he was looking at you through tunnel vision when you showed up with a concerned look on your face.

you felt like something was wrong originally, but when his hands immediately pulled you inside and practically tore your pants off of you, you figured he must've just been really, really, horny. So horny that he doesn't even get your shirt off of you before sliding in dry, whispering words that slicken you right up along with the painful intrusion.

he doesn't even get you out of the entrance either. your back is pressed to his chest as he holds you there, taking everything he can get before wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing. You pull back against him, allowing him to maneuver you to the kitchen just to the side, and there, he doesn't release his grip.

you're tapping his arms, trying to breathe, scream, moan, and whimper all at the same time. he's lost his damn mind, you think.

and when he does finally release his arms around your neck, you want to moan, but instead, you say it. the one word he never expected to hear from you.

"red."

you felt three more powerful thrusts as you said the word, slapping your hand over your mouth because...did you really even want to say it at all?

and then he buries himself into you as deep as he can and leans forward, grabbing your hair and pulling you back so that his lips line up with your ear.

"what did you just say?"

and his hips would be still, all of his movement would come to a halt waiting for you to answer him. waiting for you to confirm the color he thinks he just heard, though it was hard to hear because his ears were ringing due to the sheer adrenaline he has right now.

"red. heeseung." you repeat, out of breath.

Only then does he calm his breathing, still remaining deep inside of you before that little switch in his head flips.

"did I hurt you?" He asks, voice raspy and concerned as he tunes in to his surroundings, noting how he just grabbed you and started using you as if you aren't a living being.

But then you shake your head, skewing your face half into his view with a smirk.

"No, i'd just like to know what's gotten into you."

ah, only you would stop mid-fucking for a goddamn conversation.

☆ jay:

jay always wants to try new things and you're always more than willing to indulge him in it. Hence why safe words have been a pretty common occurrence in your bedroom. rarely yet have you ever had to use even a yellow, better yet a red.

jay always commits green light acts on you, to the point you almost question if he could ever receive a red at all.

tonight tests that limit. the new thing he wants to try involves not only his cock, but a lovely silicone one he secretly bought on his way home. and what does he plan to do this both of these cocks?

use them on you. at the same time.

and, well, while you were actually quite excited to get your chance to try double penetration with your doting boyfriend, he seemed to have missed the look of concern on your face regarding the size of the toy compared to the size of him.

jay is already big. thick enough to make you feel as though the fit is tight regardless of how wet you get for him. this toy though? it's at least an inch longer, at least an inch thicker.

so, yes. you let the dreaded color slip just seconds after jay slides into you after much prep. at the moment, it doesn't feel like any amount of prep could have prepared you for the feeling of two rather large cocks sitting inside of you. The toy is prodded deep in your pussy, skewed only slightly by jay's strong hand as he holds it there with your legs gripping around his waist for dear life. And he is bottomed out into your ass, squeezing his eyes shut briefly himself at the grip and suffocating feeling of your body clenching around both him and the toy.

"relax baby," he whispers out, skewing the toy up just a bit before slipping it down and out of you for a brief instance of relief. "you're squeezing me so hard."

and you do try to relax, the moment where the toy leaves your body does allow a bit of relief to you until, well, he slides it back into you in one push, mumbling a groan at the feeling of it.

"red," you choke out, your body nearly forcing him and the toy out of you from the instinctual clenching.

Jay goes full-stop in that moment, not only slipping the toy back out of you but also making an attempt to slide himself out without causing any more discomfort but then...your legs squeeze him tighter, pushing him right back into place.

"just give me a bit to adjust--" you choke out again, "it's a lot to get used to."

★ jake:

when jake gets in those moods, you know it's near impossible to reach him through actions, better yet through words. he can get quite desperate, which normally isn't too much of an issue because you're the one needing to take control.

on a rare night though, jake wont give in and just...goes. anytime previous to this where you've had to use a safe word involved jake in this type of mindset.

what mindset is it without consistently needing to just say the word desperate? a state where he loses all ability to control just how hard or fast his hips move. some would call it being pussy drunk, though jake's version of it is far more insane than most. like a dog with a bone, he has his mind set on one thing, and that's his pleasure.

you knew it was going to be like this tonight, watching the way his apologies for going too hard and not yet stopping turn into forceful grips and thrusts of his cock into you. it felt like you were being, quite literally, impaled. A wince here, a wince there, and now? Consistent pain with his angled hips, ramming into you repeatedly with no apology in the air.

your loving, sweet, pretty-eyed boyfriend is so fucking gone, and at this point he hasn't quite comprehended or even processed you saying the safe word three times already.

The first time you said it was when he gripped one of your tits to the point it hurt, still ramming into you with a painful spike of pleasure. The second time was when his eyes went dull, and all apologies were left sitting in his sober mind, and then the third time, just now, you had to make an attempt to overpower your lustful boyfriend, gripping his hair as tightly as you can to pull him down to you.

"red."

you saw his eyes flicker in realization at the word, but he kept going upon feeling you clench around him. another thrust, and then another, and then-

"Jake, you're hurting me." You say this time, holding back any moan of pleasure simply because if he hears it, he genuinely may believe you're joking about the pain.

and really, it's not that you don't love when he gets like this. he always gives it to you good, but you can tell he's losing it and he's going to crash after he's done with you. hell, you're going to crash if the lightheaded fuzz in your head is anything to go by.

upon hearing those words from you though, his hips stop immediately and he returns back to himself. the apologies come back, the drool on his chin gets wiped by the back of his hand through insistent and genuine apologies.

he pulls out quickly, only then recognizing the welts and bursts of color against your skin from his fingertips alone.

and when he looks at your face with a drowsy smile but eyes full of concern, he can only apologize again. feeling sorry for himself in that moment and fighting back the frustration of losing an approaching orgasm, he does stop. and he doesn't get off that night solely because you cannot convince him that it's okay. that you're okay.

☆ sunghoon:

safe words are very common in the bedroom, though rarely used because both of you have a deep level of trust and commitment in your relationship. it's to the point that even when you do feel like you need to say the word, more often than not you're too busy trusting him to make the pain and discomfort worth it.

and, well, he always does.

there was the time where he nearly choked you out, allowing you to feel your first orgasm with near to no breath, to the point of almost passing out. sure, that would be considered a red for most people, but you knew sunghoon would never hurt you nor literally fucking kill you. there was another time where he really, really, really, wanted to try and get you to squirt. which, you know, that's great for you!!! aside from the fact that all day he had you drinking water bottle after water bottle, barring the bathroom from you until he knew you were ready to burst. the only reason you would have given him a red would be because your bladder was hurting by the time he started ramming into you, and mayyyybe because he didn't put a towel down and surely you were about to piss yourself for his pleasure. ultimately though, that pressure paired with the feeling of being stuffed even more full led you to an orgasm that you still think about to this day. today though, sunghoon is really on something. lately, he's been making comments. "size queen" this, "size queen" that. it appears your boyfriend is now seemingly fucking obsessed with seeing how much you can fit into your cunt. or, rather, how much he can fit into you. there was plenty of prep of course. His cock always a pleasure, and then his cock plus a few of his fingers, and then-- oh. just his fingers??? then-- knuckles. you feel knuckles.

"Woah, woah-" You pause at the feeling of being stretched, Sunghoon not stopping as you glance down at the way he is entirely focused on fitting his whole goddamn hand inside of you. "Sunghoon, red. red!" He stills his hand, leaving it in place and feeling your internal walls bunch his fingers up inside of you. Still, he can't push the knuckles past your hole and honestly, he's a bit shocked to hear the color code come out of you in a panic.

"Red?" He asks for confirmation, already preparing to pull his hand back and take care of you in a different way when you clench again.

"Red." You confirm, wiggling your hips away from him, forcing him to pull out of you.

"Was it too much?" He asks now, carefully crawling over you to plant a kiss to the tip of your nose. "I just wanted to see if it would fit." You nod, embarrassed by the fact that he was really close to making it fit. Unfortunately, it didn't quite feel good for you to have something so large inching inside of you so quickly. He was eager, you could tell, but just as apologetic.

"I think, maybe if you want to try this, we need to use more lube, and maybe buy some toys to train me into it."

"Train you into it?" He repeats your words, eyes darkening in an instant. You smile at his expression, seeing his new obsession run freely in his mind at the implication that maybe someday you can take more than just his fist without seeing red.

[hells-wasabii]

I’m shamelessly asking for some Carmilla Carmine x fem!reader where reader gets nearly killed during extermination day, maybe severely hurt kind of thing cuz I’m a sucker for angst

A/N: And I am shamelessly answering this wholeheartedly Can I just say that I love Carmilla?? And one can never have enough angst. I went ahead and decided to make it a drabble

A/n's A/N: I came back after finishing this, i really didn't mean for it to get so long. It's not a drabble anymore, it's a short fic. the word count is nearly three times what i usually allot for my drabbles.

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader injured during extermination, Angst, Fluff)

All it takes is one second. Time meant everything during the annual extermination. If you drop your guard, let yourself get distracted, it could mean certain death. This was something that Carmilla had been extra diligent in teaching her daughters, and something that she had always reminded you, her love, her heart, of constantly.

You would always offer a soft smile of reassurance, pressing a kiss to the overlord's hand.

But things don't always go as planned, do they?

No one expected to get separated.

There had been an explosion that had taken out most of the city block. Some sinner trying to put up a fight before their inevitable demise, her daughters informed her after the fact. She had found Odette and Clara easily, both on the same side of the blast as she had been, but she had lost sight of you. You hadn't been caught in the blast, she knew that for sure. You were durable enough for something as measly as that to not be of much effect, anyhow.

But the fact that she didn't know where you had gone made her nervous. No one was truly safe during the exterminations, only hellborns and the king.

Her blood ran cold when your scream met her ears, her head snapping in the direction.

No.

Carmilla was in motion before her mind could catch up. The arms dealer instinctively ran through the streets littered with death and destruction, Clara and Odette calling after her. It wasn't like their mother to act so impulsively.

Turning the corner, there you were, lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. The arms dealer deflated upon seeing you in such a state. If only she had gotten here sooner. Luckily, the exorcist has gone. Likely to chase down some other damned soul like an animal, she thought bitterly. Skidding to a stop, she dropped to her knees at your side.

You were in a bad state, disheveled, bruised, bloodied. The worst of it appeared to be a rather large stab wound just above your hip, likely from some sort of spear.

But you were still breathing, nonetheless. You could still be saved. Hope bloomed in Carmilla's chest, as she pushed aside your blouse to better reveal the worst of your injuries.

"Girls," Carmilla called out once she was sure that it was safe for them to follow.

As she checked you for other injuries her daughters knelt by her side.

"Mother, here." Clara sounded as frantic as Carmilla felt. The overlord briefly turned to her daughter, surprised to find her taking off her coat to offer her. "To apply pressure," her daughter clarified. Her heart swelled at the action, accepting the coat and pressing it to your wound.

"Look!" Odette called out, and out of the corner of her eye, Carmilla saw her pointing to the sky. "The angels are retreating!"

"She's right!" Clara chimed in, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder, "We should get her back home, then we can tend to the wound properly."

Carmilla had never felt prouder of her daughters, they truly had grown into exceptional young women. She made a mental note to properly thank the both of them once things had settled.

But home was too far away, they would never make it there before you bled out. Lady luck was on your side as the four of you hadn't been too far from one of their safe houses, however, they needed to move quickly before you lost too much blood.

The next hour and a half were a blur. The moment they had unlocked the door to the safe house the Carmines got to work

Your wounds were cleaned and dressed. Carmilla herself had been the one to wash off the blood and dirt that caked your skin and you were laid up in bed. Odette and Clara had left once they were sure you would recover, choosing to give you and their mother space.

The arms dealer couldn't help feeling partially responsible. She thought if only she had been more diligent, and kept you close to her, maybe you wouldn't be left in such a state. The realization hit her, hard. She could have lost you.

"Carmilla?" your voice pulled the overlord from her thoughts. You were awake! In an instant she was by your side, taking your hand in hers.

"It's okay darling, Everything is alright now." You don't answer, at least not with your words. instead, with a grateful smile turning up the corners of your lips, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn't help but return the smile, relieved. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Funny, for a moment there, I thought I'd somehow made it to heaven. Mistook you for an angel," you managed out a strained laugh, though you immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your smile returned, however, as Carmilla couldn't help but roll her eyes. But you had met your mark, the arms dealer finally let the tension leave her body.

"Mi amore."

"Yes, Carmilla?" You at first thought that the arms dealer was going to scold you for making light of the situation. You never would have expected the next words out of her mouth. She breathed out, gaze softening, her request was barely above a whisper.

"Marry me."

[d0youc0py]

So, I have a request for angst, but with Young Reader, and they actually do call them an ask for help or a place to stay for a bit because of a nasty fight they got into with their parents and just need to leave the situation, perhaps they could have hid an injury(Welt, slap mark, bruising) from the boys only for boys to see it when they take off their coat/jacket. Its cool if you dont feel comfortable with this ask, you dont have to do it.

“Hey, John.” You started into the phone.

“You alright, Honey?” He questioned. You nearly rolled your eyes. The man had known you since you were as tall as his knee and could always tell when something was wrong.

“Not really.” You lied. You scrunched your face and took a deep breath. “Actually yeah- my mom came home in one of her moods again, but”-

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

You could hear his car keys jingle on the other line and the familiar sound of his truck door slamming shut.

“I’m at the park down the street.”

“Hold tight, honey. I’ll be right there.”

It was about a fifteen minute wait. John lived all the way out in the country, another thing you loved about him. His truck pulled up and he quickly hopped out to open the door for you.

“Thanks John.” You sighed, giving him a quick hug.

“Course, honey. Now how about we go get some dinner, hmm?” He patted your back. It was gentle but enough to make you wince.

He took you to your favorite restaurant, the same one your father use to take you to. He sat across from you, not needing to look over the menu. His soft blue eyes trained on you.

“You ready to talk about it?” John asked. Your eyes peered up from behind the menu. You don’t know why you were even looking at it in the first place. You always ordered the same thing.

“Same old thing.” You responded, sifting in your seat.

“Don’t give me that, honey.” He pressed. “You’ve never called me before. I always hear about a fight after I’ve shaken you down.” He offered you a small smile. It’s wasn’t one of pity, but understanding. He’s always been there for you, so why won’t you just tell him the truth?

“Don’t get mad.” You whispered. John instantly faltered. It was a common cycle. When he was on leave he’d take you out at least two times a week. You’d tell him about some shitty thing your mom said to you and he’d race over to your house and threaten her to knock it off. She’d be on her best behavior for about a week, then the cycle would repeat itself. “Look you’re already upset.” You gave a fake chuckle.

“Honey.” He huffed. His eyes bore into yours with such intensity it made your tiny hairs stand up.

“It started off just like our fights always do. She started yelling and I just made my way to my room to bunker down for the night.” You stopped to take a small sip of your water.

“You locked the door?” John hummed. He had built you a special lock to go on your door.

“I didn’t make it that far.” You murmured, tears forming in your eyes. John’s hand reached across the table attaching to yours, giving you an encouraging squeeze. “She threw something at me.” You whispered.

“Threw something at you.” He repeated.

“I know it so stupid.” Your hands left his to paw at your eyes. You hated crying. His hands remained on the table giving you the option to return to him.

“She hurt you honey? That’s the furthest thing from stupid.”

“It was one of those ceramic cats she collects. It hit me in the back.” You gasped. You wouldn’t doubt if there was a large bruise forming as you spoke. “Do you mind if I stay with you for a little bit? Just till things cool down?”

“Honey, you could come live with me.” He assured. This wasn’t the first time he offered, but giving the increasing hostility your mother was showing this was the first time you really considered it.

“I don’t think I can just live with you, John. Isn’t that illegal- like kidnapping or something.” You sputtered.

“That’s not for you to worry about, honey. I’ll handle everything, just take some time and think about it.”

He woke up to the sound of glass shattering so loud it sounded like it was in his room. His body made quick work of throwing the covers off and heading towards his front door. He didn’t bother to shut his door behind him or throw on a pair of shoes. His body was already hot and shaking with anger. His fist pounded against your front door giving some warning of his presence before he used his shoulder to nearly split the door open.

He quickly found you on the floor your mother grabbing at your hair.

“Shit!” Your father yelled from the kitchen. Your father had been enjoying the whole spectacle of your mother tormenting you with a smile and a beer in his hand. Your mother look up at Simon, her own eyes growing wide with fear. He grabbed her by the arm throwing her backwards off of you.

“Who the fuck do you thi”- Your father started.

“Shut up and sit down.” Simon growled. Your father quickly obeyed siting down at the counter, your mother scurrying backwards to join him.

“Come on kid, on your feet.” He was soft with you, refusing to add anymore trauma to the situation. He wrapped an arm around your middle to steady you and you hid your face in shame.

“You can’t just take them. I’ll have the police dow”- Your father spoke up again.

“I told you to shut it. And what? You gonna call the police on me tough guy? Do it.” Simon spat. Your father piped down again the realization of his threat setting in. Simon led you out of your apartment and into his own. “Sit down, tell me where you’re hurt. Might need to take you to the hospital after that one, kid.”

The only way you could respond was through sobs. You practically threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. He sighed softly, not in contempt but in mercy. He wrapped a bulky arm around you, using your head as a chin rest. He related to you in all the worst ways.

“I don’t wanna go back.” You sobbed against him.

“I know you’re scared.” He said softly. “You’re gonna stay with me for a while, yeah? You have a key anyways might as well.”

He groaned as his phone went off from somewhere in his bed. He patted around, his eyes burning as the made contact with the blinding light.

Your face lighting up his phone ripped the drowsiness from his body.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat.

“Mac.” You cried from the other end.

“Fuckin hell.” He growled. “Where are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry. They just started yelling at me and I got scared and now I don’t know what to do.” You sobbed.

“You did exactly what you were suppose to do. You called me. Now take a few breaths and tell me where you are. It’s late you shouldn’t be out by yourself.” He slipped his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys from the entry table. He opened the door only to come face to face with you. His face scrunched as he took in your appearance. Your hair a mess, your face tear stained and you were shaking uncontrollably.

His heart dropped when he caught sight of a ruby colored mark on your cheek.

“That better not be what I think it is.” He gritted. You just cried harder. “Inside, now.” He snipped, making room for you brush past him.

“No, Mac please.” You sobbed. Your hands fled towards his arm and you leaned against him. You needed comfort. You needed assurance that everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. I can’t just let them get away with it Y/N.” He snarled. He gave you a kiss on the head. He began to pull his arm away but you just gripped him harder.

“Mac, please. I need you.” Your voice was soft. So weak and so vulnerable it made him stop dead in his tracks. “Please.” You whispered again. An apology flowed from his mouth and he quickly wrapped two strong arms around you, pulling you tight against him. You instantly relaxed.

“You’re right.” He murmured. “You’re safe now.”

“Ky, Can I stay with you please?”

You had asked him that a little over a week ago. He agreed immediately- perks of being one of his most favorite people on the planet. You didn’t really tell him why, just that you had gotten into a small ‘altercation’ with your parents.

That brings you to where you are today.

“If you don’t want me I can just leave Kyle.” You huffed, already collecting your things from the guest bedroom.

“Lovie, don’t do that!” He shouted after you. “My door is always open for you and you know that. I would just like to know exactly what happened. Considering you’re practically living with me now I think I have a right to know.” He explained. He grabbed the things out of your bag, hanging them up again.

“Kyle, stop! I’ve obviously overstayed my welcome. I’ll be out for your hair in no time.” You rubbed at your face harshly, trying to rid yourself of any tears.

“Y/N. Enough. Please stop.” His words were firm. It made you cry harder. “I didn’t mean to upset you so bad.” He assured. His hands came up and grabbed your wrists so he could get a better look at your face. He pulled you close to him. “I also need to know how upset I should be with your parents. If it’s really bad we need to get you out of there.” He explained. You sniffled, wiping at your face again.

It was then he saw it.

A deep purple bruise on your wrist. How didn’t you flinch when he grabbed it?

“That answers my question.” He sighed. You gasped and pulled your sleeves down. “Is that the only one?” He pressed. His fingers rested under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. He repeated his question.

You softly shook your head.

“I have one on my side too.” You sniffed.

“Y/N look at me please.”

You did as he requested.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t have to go back, okay? But I need you to be completely honest about everything, yeah?”

A small sob left you and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

“I love you, Ky.”

[darkbluekies]

The witty & uncanny pt 3 (finale)

Doctor!yandere OC x reader x mafia!yandere OC

Summary: Stuck with two yanderes, your life is now turned upside down. You're kept asleep and your body is breaking down. The yanderes have won.

Warnings: yandere duo, drugs/medicine, kidnapping, restraints, bruises, blood, "humiliation", “infantilization”, mentions of sexual intimacy, changing readers clothes when they're unconscious, throwing up, following reader to bathroom, washing reader, open ending, indication of reader dying(?), unhealthy behavior, toxicity, reader breaking(?), indication of Stockholm syndrome/giving in.

Word count: 5.8k

Part 2 the outtakes

You run the quickest you can, only hearing your own heartbeat in your own ears. You’ve never been this terrified in your entire life. The gun is still safely tucked away into the pocket of your black hoodie. Your legs are aching badly by now and soon enough, you have to stop to rest. Despite all the adrenaline you’re pumping in your veins, you’re still human. With a quick look around to make sure that you’re alone, you sink down with your back against a tree. You feel for the gun and sigh out, relieved that it's still there. You’re unsure if it is going to help you in this twisted situation, but you’re going to try your best. You can’t do more than that. 

“Y/N!” Silas says. 

You look around, seeing him stand a few meters away. In panic, you shoot up on your feet, but your legs refuse to move further. All you want is to run away, but the sight of him scares you to your core. But you know you have to flee before he wins again. He can’t win again, can’t get what he want. You pick up the gun in a shaking hand, hoping to see him scared … but all he does is smile. A nostalgic, almost fatherly smile. 

“My favorite gun, I’ve missed it”, he says calmly and lifts his dark eyes to you. “But I’ve missed its new owner even more.”

“Leave me alone”, you warn him with make believe courage, “or else I’m going to shoot you.”

Silas lifts a black eyebrow. “Shoot me?”

“I shot the doctor.”

Silas smiles wider and takes a step forward. You force yourself to stand still with your head high. You can’t show how terrified you really are. He’s like a demon, he feeds of off your fear. 

“I must be a bad influence on you, my little thing”, he snickers, putting his hand over his heart. “I never wanted you to take after me. It’s not safe for you. You’re my precious little darling, you shouldn’t run around with a gun. Give it to me and I will take you home safely.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You really think that? You don’t think I have taken measures to make sure that you’re leaving with me?”

You're about to turn around and run when someone comes up behind you locks their arm around your waist. With a surprised yelp, your back gets pressed into a taller man's build. You squirm around and manage to catch a glimpse of the blonde doctor’s face behind you. You freeze and look back at Silas who’s grinning ear to ear. Less than a second later, a sharp pain from a needle shoots through your neck. 

"Sleep tight", Dr Kry whispers. 

You wake up in the same room you escaped from weeks ago. The only difference? Both your wrists are secured to the railings of the metallic bed by what looks like belt buckles. You start to wiggle your hands in hope of them slipping out, but whoever’s tied you has made sure that you’re not going anywhere. 

The room is foggy no matter how much you blink. You wish you could rub your eyes, but your hands won’t move. 

You try to speak, but you break out in coughs. Your throat is drier than a desert. 

“They’re awake”, Silas says. 

“Good”, Dr Kry answers. 

“They don’t sound too good.”

“Just a side effect from the drug. They need to drink some water.”

You gasp, seeing the doctor move towards you with a paper mug in his hands. The closer he comes, the more you fight against the restraints. If he put drugs in your neck that easily, who knows what he could have put in the water?

“Be careful”, Dr Kry whispers and sits down on a rolling stool next to your bed. He helps you sit up before placing the paper mug to your lips. “Drink a little.”

You shake your head frantically. 

“It’s just water, Y/N”, Dr Kry reassures you and takes a sip himself. “See? Harmless.”

"I don't want anything from you."

You start to squirm against the restraints again. You start to move your legs and manage to kick the paper mug out of his hands. The water splashes over his legs and your blanket. Dr Kry sighs heavily and for a second you’re scared that he’s going to do something to you. You shouldn't have acted so impulsive. Instead, he stands up and wipes his blue overalls. 

“Seems like you have everything in control”, Silas snorts. 

“As if you could do this better”, Dr Kry says and rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, I know I can.”

Silas picks up the paper cup, walks into the bathroom and returns. You watch him carefully, studying his every step as you involuntarily shrink. You know very well what Silas is capable of and what he does when he’s denied anything.

Silas walks over to you, standing right beside your body. You force yourself to keep your eyes on the clock on the wall, to ignore his presence. Silas leans down to your ear.

“Either you drink this voluntarily or I’m forcing you to”, he whispers. 

His hot breath fans your ear in an uncomfortable, animalistic manner. You shrink and swallow, nodding unnoticeably. Silas holds the cup to your lips gently and you open your mouth, letting the water in. Dr Kry watches in amazement how you swallow every single drop of the water. Silas smiles smugly and throws the paper cup in the trash. 

“See, doc?” he purrs and puts his hand on your head, scratching your scalp. “I know how to control our little beast here.” 

"Unbelievable", Dr Kry scoffs. 

You finally turn your head away, being done with his embarrassment. You look down, noticing something.

"Where are my clothes?" you ask in horror.

Sometime during your involuntary nap, at least one of them changed you out of your black hoodie and jeans to a flimsy hospital gown.

"Your clothes are in the backseat of my car", Silas answers calmly. "Since you like to run around the town like a madman, I thought that if you want to do it again, you'll have to look like one as well." 

Your mouth falls open "I-I want my clothes! You're striping me off of my individuality!"

"We're keeping you safe", Dr Kry says and grabs his keys. "Now, I'm going down to the cafeteria to get you something to eat. Any requests?"

"If you think I'm stupid enough to eat it-"

"I take that as a 'no', then."

With that said, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. Silas chuckles.

"That cheeky little bastard doesn't trust me", he says, eyes on the door. "He thinks I'm going to steal you away the very second I get you alone."

"Why wouldn't you?" you question.

Silas turns his dark eyes to you. "Because I gave my word to him. Unfortunately."

"So? You haven't kept your word earlier."

"Of course I have."

You scoff. "Like what? Name one time."

"I swore that I'd get you back." He tilts his head. "Didn't I hold that promise very well?"

You don't answer. You have to physically bite your tongue from spitting something out that you'll have to pay for dearly later on.  

Dr Kry returns with a paper container.

"I got you meatballs", he says. "I hope that's fine."

"I'm not eating that", you mutter. 

"I think you are. I don't think you've forgotten that your hands are a bit occupied — because those restraints seem to hurt — and if you want something, we have to do it for you … which means that we decide if you eat or not. Not you.” He holds the fork to your lips. “Now, open your mouth.”

You turn your head away. 

“Don’t be a brat”, Dr Kry says. 

“I don’t want to eat that!” you whine. “I don’t trust you!”

“I haven’t done anything to it, Y/N. Open up, please.”

Your stomach growls and you sigh, giving in. You open your mouth slightly, just enough to let the food in. Dr Kry smiles proudly. A string of brown sauce runs down your lips and he catches it with the fork before gently placing it into your mouth again, just like one would do with a baby. You cringe. 

“I think our drooly baby here needs a bib”, Silas chuckles from his chair. 

His embarrassing comments always ruins the mood. You pull yourself away form the food again and Dr Kry sighs, turning his head to the gang leader. 

“Are you serious?” he hisses. “I just made them eat. You’re no help.”

Silas holds up his hands in front of him innocently, but his eyes sparkle with mischief. Dr Kry turns back to you and picks up a new spoonful of mashed potatoes and meatballs. You hesitate while glancing at Silas, waiting for him to make another comment.

“Don’t mind him”, Dr Kry says. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You move your eyes to the doctor. He sighs at your teary eyes. 

“Does the restraint hurt?” he asks softly, caressing your left wrist over the belt-looking thing. 

You have barely been able to feel the pain from the leather bands holding you down, but they do sting. You nod to his question, although it’s not the reason why you’re crying. 

“I will remove them”, Dr Kry promises. “But I’ll have to do something else instead. We don’t quite trust you yet.”

“What are you going to do?” you whisper resentfully. 

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll see.” He holds the fork to your lips again. “Open up again, please.”

You comply this time. In silence, you manage to eat the entire container full of food. 

“Now you should take an afternoon nap”, Dr Kry says.

“I’m not a child”, you spit. 

“You sure do act like one”, Silas says, raising one of his dark eyebrows. “Running away, throwing temper tantrums … shooting people.” He stands up from his chair. “If you want to act like one, we’ll treat you like one.”

“Until you start to act like an adult”, Dr Kry adds. “Until then, you better believe that we’ll keep on treating you like you’re five. Now, time for a nap.”

He helps you lie down again. You refuse to close your eyes, refuse to let them out of your sight. They don’t talk much to each other. Silas is sitting in his chair with his phone out and Doctor Kry is by his desk, filing paperwork. 

You want to scream when you feel the need to go to the bathroom. For thirty minutes, you try suppressing it. Asking to go feels more humiliating than Silas wanting to give you a baby bib.

“I need to go to the bathroom”, you say lowly. 

The two of them look up immediately. 

“What did you say?” Dr Kry asks. 

“Bathroom”, you repeat shortly.

“Absolutely. I'll help you.”

He stands up and walks over to the bed. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the restraints disappear from your arms. Quickly, you sit up and massage your sore wrists. There’s clear marks after the leather bands, a bit of blood as well. Dr Kry takes your hands in his, inspecting. He hisses. 

“We’ll have to put bandage on that”, he says. “You shouldn’t have moved too much.”

Silas walks over to you to inspect your wrists. He twists and turns to see every angle before placing a kiss on both marks. You flinch, ripping your arms back in shock. 

“Come now, Y/N”, Dr Kry says and puts his hand on your back. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”

“T-Together?” you question. 

“You could hurt yourself. There are things in there you could use to harm yourself with. Im not letting that happen.”

Damn him and his professionalism. 

You sigh heavily, giving up, silently relieved that it’s not Silas. Dr Kry follows you into the bathroom, standing by in silence. He doesn't give you a spare glance, staying as professional as he is. You wash your hands and sigh at the marks in your wrists.

"Let's get that patched up", he smiles.

"This is humiliating", you say weakly. 

"It's just a precaution. I can't let you hurt yourself."

You show your wrists to him, eyebrows raised. 

"That is a different case", he says.

A harsh knock can be heard on the door.

"Don't try anything, doc", Silas warns on the other side. "When are you coming out?"

Dr Kry massages his nose bridge with his index finger and thumb, sighing heavily. He unlocks the door and walks you out. While Dr Kry walks over to his desk, Silas walks back to his chair with his phone. You glance towards the door. Whatever Dr Kry had in mind to give you to substitute for the restraints will be sure to keep you bedridden. This is your only chance. None of their eyes are on you. Quickly, you shoot towards the door with all the power you have in your body. As on demand, the two men let go of their things and hurry after. You manage to grab the door handle before Silas has grabbed your shoulders and Dr Kry your arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Silas asks, pulling you back. 

"Let go of me!" you shout.

"Doc, whatever you had planned you better use it now."

Doctor Kry jogs over to his desk again and grabs a needle. You squirm in Silas’s grip and plead the doctor to put the syringe away.

"Stay still and it won't hurt as much", Dr Kry says, holding his hand on the base of your throat. "Deep breaths, count backwards from ten."

"No, please!" you scream desperately. 

Silas covers your mouth with his rough hand and in the next second, the needle penetrates your skin. What feels like a stinging, burning sensation spirals through your body, effectively numbing it.

"Good job, almost there", Dr Kry praises. "Keep on breathing, you're doing great."

You feel your body growing weak in Silas embrace. He tightens his arms to keep you held up. You eventually stop fighting.

"Good job, Y/N, you did so well", Dr Kry smiles, removing the needle from your neck. "Silas, put them into bed."

Silas scoops you up like a bride on the wedding night and carries you back to your bed. Dr Kry starts to take care of your wrists and soon they're wrapped in white, comfy bandage. 

After dinner — which consists of another meatball meal — they decide that you should go to sleep. But you refuse. They could do anything to you when you’re asleep. You don’t want to be moved again, you don’t want to be acknowledged. 

“Y/N, close your eyes”, Silas says. “You’re just torturing yourself by being awake.”

“I don’t want to sleep!” you whine. 

You wish that you could do something, but your body is feeling heavy and numb. You’re not sure where your limbs are or if they're held by one of the two men. Your body is already asleep, you should be too according to Silas and Dr Kry.

"Alright, I'm done with this", Dr Kry says after a long silence.

He stands up and walks over to the machines by your bed. You scurry to the other side of the bed with the little power you have left in your body.

"What are you doing?" Silas asks. "Don't do something without my approval."

"If Y/N won't sleep voluntarily, I'm going to help them", Dr Kry answers and lifts down a plastic mask connected to one of the machines by a tube. He pulls out a rubber band thats supposed to hold the mask latched onto the face. "Here, let me just put this over your nose and mouth-"

You cover the lower part of your face with your shaking hands. Your eyes glow with fear. They can numb your body until it's unmovable, but your eyes will always stay alert and alive. 

"Y/N, please", Dr Kry sighs, putting his free hand over yours, about to pry yours off your face. "Just let me-"

You hide your face down in your arm. He stops and looks at you. Your body is trembling like a leaf swirling in the wind. 

"Y/N, it's just anesthesia", he says comfortingly. "It'll help your mind relax so you can sleep. It's not going to hurt you."

He tries to move close again, but your crying halts his movements.

"Please …", you whisper weakly, shaking your head. "Please don't …"

Dr Kry sighs heavily, looks at Silas and then places the plastic mask on your stomach in defeat.

"Alright", he says. "I'm not going to force you. If you want to use it, just hold it over your mouth and inhale the gas."

He returns to his desk. Silas is about to stand up, but a particular strict gaze from the doctor makes him sit down again. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Sometimes you wonder if Silas is the one behaving like a child. After all, he throws tantrums, runs away from problems and shoots people. But if you said that out loud, you'd spend a month in his basement.

You stay awake for another hour out of spite, but you can feel how your body wants the sweet prize of sleep. You try to shut your eyes and drift of to sleep, but all the worries and thoughts about what they could do to you when you're out is stopping you from actually falling asleep. Your head is pounding with fear and minute by minute, you're slowly drifting to insanity. 

You glance at the mask and hesitantly lift it to your face, making sure to cover both nose and mouth. Carefully, you give in and breathe the strong gas into your lungs. It doesn't take long until your head clouds up. The mask slips out of your hands and your head rests against the pillow.

Dr Kry looks up from his papers and sighs out in relief. Quietly, he moves over to you and picks up the mask, pulling out the rubber band to wrap around your head. The mask stays in place over your face.

"How long will that work?" Silas asks and stands up.

"It'll work for as long as we keep the mask on them", Dr Kry says. "We can make them sleep for as long as we want."

Silas fixes a strand of your hair that has been caught by the rubber band with a gentle smile. 

"Are they usually this difficult?" Dr Kry wonders, raising a blonde eyebrow.

"Yes", Silas says. "That's why I've managed to develop a technique. You can't be soft with them, you have to be strict and force them. Otherwise they'll refuse and fight. Like today."

"No wonder they hate you."

Silas picks up the gun he stole back from you, placing it under Dr Kry’s chin. The blonde man doesn't react.

"They don't hate me", Silas growls. "Don't make me fucking shoot you."

"Are we back to this?" Dr Kry sighs, nodding his chin down on the gun testingly. "I have told you were to happen if you shoot me here. I wouldn't test my luck if I were you."

"You're such a clever thing, aren't you? God, you piss me off." 

Nonetheless, Silas puts the gun back in his waistband. Dr Kry looks down at his phone, looking annoyed.

"I have to go help another doctor with a surgery, can you watch Y/N?" he asks. "Don't leave the room unless necessary and don't touch anything. Wrong button and you've hurt them."

"What will stop me from going through your drawers?"

"Your morality, I hope. I'll see you later."

With that said, he walks out and locks the door.

“‘Don't leave’, he said”, Silas scoffs and strolls over to your bed, lying down beside you. “How the fuck did he think I'd do that if he locks the door? My pretty baby, you are so precious, that pesky doctor doesn't know how to handle you.”

He knows you can’t hear him, but he finds it nicely to talk to you without you cursing at him in return. Silas smiles at you and pulls you closer to his body, hiding your face into his chest. He secures the rubber band in the back of your head with a small smile.

“Get the fuck of out the bed”, Dr Kry sighs as he enters the room two hours later. “You’ll break it.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I broke a bed”, Silas grins, pulling you closer to his chest. 

Dr Kry grimaces. “Oh my God, be quiet, that’s disgusting.”

“Why? You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be able to talk about those kind of things?”

“Do you ever just keep your mouth shut?”

“I could, but why not use my mouth for the greater good?”

“You’re not Superman, now get out of the bed.”

Silas sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. He starts to move out of the bed gently, making sure that you won’t get hurt. Before walking to the chair, he places a kiss on your forehead. With a smirk, he pets Dr Kry on the shoulder.

“Why so stiff, doc?” he asks amusingly, raising his eyebrows. “Haven’t you gotten laid in a while?”

“My sexlife is none of your business and yours is none of mine, so be quiet”, Dr Kry answers murderously cold and turns to his desk. 

Silas smiles widely, almost like a school boy. 

“You really like getting on people’s nerves, don’t you?” Dr Kry asks over his shoulder. 

“No, just yours”, Silas smiles and sits down in his chair. 

Dr Kry grits his teeth. “What an honor.”

Silas looks down at his phone, noticing a new message from his right hand man. 

“Those stupid- … I have to go”, he growls and stands up, grabbing his coat. “Seems like I have to do everything myself! I’ll be back in an hour, don’t do anything to Y/N without my approval, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, just go”, Dr Kry says. “If it’s urgent, take the back door, there’s a special elevator for that.”

“Thanks, doc.”

With that said, he runs out. Dr Kry decides to sneak over to you and fix your blanket and mask. He caresses your cheek and sighs out in satisfaction. You look so sweet. So innocent. He touches the bandage on your wrists. Why did you have to fight so harshly? He doesn’t like seeing you hurt. 

Dr Kry sits by his desk until Silas is back, an hour later, blood covering his clothes. 

“What happened?” Dr Kry gasps. 

“Shit happened”, Silas mutters. “Can I take a shower or something?”

“Yeah, sure. There are a towel in the bathroom and a bathrobe for patients. Wash the clothes in the sink and hang them somewhere.”

“Thanks.”

Silas walks into the bathroom and undresses. He thinks about you and the hospital. There’s nothing he’d like more than to bring you home and keep you in his bedroom again, but it’s not safe for you. It never was, but he had nowhere else to keep you. Here, you have doctor Kry to keep an eye on you when he has to work … and no one knows you’re here. Maybe he should keep you here? The doctor has everything necessary to keep you where they want you. Silas sighs and runs his hand through his wet, black hair. The water is hitting him in the face, but there’s something comforting about it. 

He returns ten minutes later, wearing the white bathrobe. 

“Do you think Y/N could stay here long term?” Silas asks. 

“Yes, of course”, Dr Kry answers. “This room is mine, I can keep whoever I want in here for as long as I want.”

“Perfect.” He sits down by your bed, lifting your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. “Doc, if I pay for every medicine you need, could you keep Y/N safe while I’m working?”

“I’d do it even if you didn’t pay me.”

Silas smiles slightly.

Days go by, turning into weeks. You’re kept asleep for the most part, only woken up to use the bathroom, eat and wash yourself. You’re too drowsy and confused to do anything yourself. The two men take turns in helping your limp body. It’s an exhausting, dissociation feeling. You don’t know what time nor day it is when you wake up, and you certainly don’t know how long they’ve kept you asleep. You barely feel real. You’re starting to wonder if the real you is a small spider in the corner of the room, looking at the half dead human in the bed.

You’re sitting completely bare in the bathtub, hugging your knees close to your chest as Silas washes your hair. You don’t care about neither Silas or Dr Kry seeing your most vulnerable areas anymore. They’ve seen it all by now and you’re too gone to care. They’re keeping you alive, you’re grateful for that. Almost … a little too grateful. A guilty, shameful gratefulness. You should take care of your own body, two men shouldn’t have to do it for you! You’re ashamed of letting your life be controlled by them, but you’re happy that they’re taking care of your basic needs — at least. You sigh. You have to get a grip of yourself before it’s too late. 

There’s a heavy feeling that has started eating you up from the inside. Something is building up in your stomach and is resting in the bottom of your throat. You want to burp, but you’re not able to, it keeps getting stuck. Every part of your body is aching, everything is wrong and on edge. You can’t take it anymore and finally allow yourself to break down in tears. Silas is quick to turn off the shower and turn your body to him. 

“What’s wrong, little thing?” he asks worriedly, fixing your wet hair. 

“I feel so sick”, you sob. 

“It’s okay, it’s just the medicine. It’ll go away.”

He holds your wet face between his hands and kisses your forehead. 

“I know it’s hard”, he says. "But you're my little champion, aren't you?"

Through your tears, you manage to nod. You have to be some kind of champion after everything you’ve been through. 

Silas smiles reaches for the shower handle. "Are you doing fine? Should I continue?"

You nod, feeling completely out of it. Is this state making you lose your mind? Why did you kiss him back? Why are you answering him at all? Why are you taking his words to heart? Get a grip on yourself. He continues to wash your hair, now more touchy after your accidental affection. You curl up, sighing. Get a grip.

You're lifted out of the tub in a towel. Silas helps you dress in the bathrobe and makes you stay in front of the mirror while he dries your hair with the towel. 

"Look at yourself, look how pretty you are", he smiles, placing a kiss in the top of your head.

You shiver and shake your head. After these last couple of weeks in a make believe coma and being stuck with these men you can no longer feel any empathy towards you. You’re disappointed in yourself for starting to cave in and you look half dead. How can you be pretty?

“You don’t think you’re pretty?” Silas gasps and hugs you from behind. “Nonsense, baby. You’re the most beautiful thing on this wretched planet. I wish you could let me show you how much I adore you.” He kisses your neck. “I’d make you feel so good, make you feel like the only person in the world. You’d never doubt yourself again, I promise. Please, will you let me take care of you?”

You shake your head. If you give yourself to him, you’ll never get out of his grip again and you know that very well. The very thought of it makes you sick to your stomach once again. You hold your hand over your weirdly aching stomach, frowning. Something’s creeping up your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Silas asks. 

“I still feel sick”, you whisper. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

Silas acts quickly. He pushes you towards the toilet, forces you down on your knees and opens the lid and pulls your hair out of your face. 

“Go for it, I got you”, he says. 

As if on commando — and maybe his rough actions — you empty everything Dr Kry’s forced down your throat the last few days. Your body hasn’t been able to digest much correctly when you’ve been forced to sleep for hours on end. You’re not sure much in your body is working right for the moment being. 

“What’s going on?” Dr Kry asks worriedly and enters the bathroom. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“You’re the doctor!” Silas says. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“I’ll do an examination. When they’re done, take them out to the bed and I’ll take a look.”

Silas nods and turns to you, helping you.

“You’re doing good, Y/N”, Silas says. “Get it out.”

“It smells”, you whine with a grimace.

“You’re a champion, baby, aren’t you? You can push through.”

You whine tiredly. After a few more minutes of pure hell, you’re finally empty. Silas wipes your mouth with some paper and flushes the toilet. He carries you back to the bed where Dr Kry is waiting. You’re sat down. 

“Okay, Y/N”, Dr Kry says. “I have some suspicions, but I need to test you.”

He performs a medical test on you to make sure that his medicine hasn't had too bad of an effect on you. He's counted on you feeling weak and heavy, but he couldn't have prepared himself for your digestion giving up.

"What's wrong with me?" you ask carefully, fearing the worst. 

"I'm afraid that your digestion might need some help." Dr Kry reaches for the oxygen mask. "I'll figure something out while-"

"No, please don't make me sleep again!"

Dr Kry halts with the mask in hand. 

“I think it’s the gas making me like this …”, you say. “Doctor, please don’t make me sleep again, I’ll be quiet and let you work.”

“I’ll keep an eye on them, doc”, Silas says, moving closer to the bed. “Just work.”

Silas sits beside you and lets you play games on his phone. He smiles gently everytime you manage to win a round of Candy Crush. Dr Kry smiles from his desk at your focused facial expressions. The two men relax, finally you’re showing some signs of giving it. You’re not crying, not fighting, just enjoying the moment by distracting yourself. They hope it can stay like this, but they both know all of this is on borrowed time. 

“Do you still feel sick?” Dr Kry asks after a while. 

“I’m feeling weird, but I’m not sure how to describe it”, you say quietly, suddenly shrinking again when remembering your awful situation. “It’s a bit better after I got to throw up … but I’m scared to eat. I don’t want to feel like that again.”

“I’m going to go get some tea for you to see if it can help your digestion. After that, I think you should go back to sleep.”

Dr Kry leaves the room. You turn to Silas with pleading eyes. 

“Why do I have to sleep?” you ask carefully. “I don't want to. It’s so terrifying waking up and not knowing how much time has passed. I’m missing out on life …”

“When you’re asleep, you don’t have to feel any of the bad feelings or see what a horrible place we live in”, Silas answers, fixing your hair. “You’re safe from everything.”

You look down in your lap to get away from those dark, lovesick eyes of his. Silas slides over his phone to you again. 

“Distract yourself, baby”, he says. “You’ll soon get some tea and then you’ll be feeling better. Keep on playing your little games. You look so cute when you focus.”

You decide to keep your mouth shut and do what he says. You manage to do two rounds of Subway Surfers before Dr Kry is back with a steaming cup in his hand.

“Here, Y/N”, he says and gives you the cup. “This should get your organs up and running.”

“I won’t throw up again, right?” you ask carefully. 

“No, you won’t.”

You sip on it, taking your sweet time with a glance towards the oxygen mask. Will this be your life from now on? Kept asleep and only awoken when someone else wants you to be?

“Are you done?” Dr Kry asks after a while. 

You look down in the cup. Empty. You gulp. 

“No …”, you lie and pretend to take another sip. 

“You’ve been sitting with that for ten minutes now. If you’re not done with it, it’s mostly likely ice cold by now.”

“When I’m done, you’ll make me sleep …”, you say. “So if i don’t finish it you can’t make me.”

“You little brat”, Silas laughs. “You’re so cute.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep, Y/N?” Dr Kry asks. “You’re not having to worry about anything, you can just relax. We’re waking you up when there’s nothing bad happening.”

“It’s not fair”, you whisper, shaking your head.

“Life’s not fair, peach”, Silas says and stands up, grabbing the mask. “Time to nap, little thing. Don’t worry, we will be here to protect you.”

You want to fight back, want to protest, but your body has given up. You know that there’s no use. They’ll get their way no matter how much you disagree. The mask gets once again placed over your face.

“Such a good patient”, Dr Kry praises as if he’s read your thoughts. “Letting us do whatever we want to you.”

You send him a gaze you intend to be a glare, but your head has already fogged up. Silas helps you lay down and the last thing you feel before everything turns into that familiar yet terrifying pitch blackness, is the soft pillow against your back. Silas tucks you in, making sure that none of your limbs are in any uncomfortable position. He sighs, stepping back. The two men look at each other with fear in their eyes, both knowing that this won’t work forever. Today was only one sign of the damage they do to you. Your body will fully break down someday, and that day might be the day they’ll lose you forever. But for now, they’ll keep you in the land of dreams where nothing can hurt you — not even you.

[allysunny]

Hello! First of all, congrats for your 200 followers ❤️✨. Great job!

Second? I wanna request

8+ 19 in patching up wounds prompt with Nanami ❤️🤭

"Don't go to work today" + "I've got you" + Patching up wounds x Nanami Kento

Words: 3.4k words

Warnings: Some angst, established relationships, mentions of wounds, bruises and stitches, very soft Nanami. If I missed anything, let me know!

A/N: Aaaaaa thank you so much Tarja! It makes me super happy that you decided to request, you know I'm a huuuge fan of your stuff!

This was an entry for my 200 Follower Event, which is still ongoing, so you can request something, if you'd like!

I wrote this in practically one sitting because it was hurting my heart. I knew exactly what to do when I saw the prompts you picked (and I think your choice was quite deliberate as well hahaha!) and I wanted to deliver the best thing ever. It's a bit short, but I just knew if I were to extend myself, we'd end up with a whole novel and I'd get carried away.

Without much further ado, I hope you all enjoy this! I had a blast writing it - I want to hug this man and never let him go! <3

Nanami’s tired sigh signalled his arrival home.

Instinctively, you got up from your spot on the couch and made your way towards him. And the vision before you shocked you to hell and back.

There’s blood all over his clothes; his once white shirt was now tainted a dozen crimson shades, and he was holding onto his stomach as he walked.

You looked at him, at his calm and collected demeanour, at the way his lips pressed into a tight line and his eyes took you in. A sigh of relief left his lips and he all but collapsed on top of you, burying his face on your hair.

“Hey – hey, careful now,” you mumbled, holding onto him tightly but still making sure he wouldn’t fall. “You’re – you’re injured. Kento, what happened?” you asked, looking up and cupping his jaw, looking for any injuries in his face. Thankfully, you find none.

“Occupational hazards,” he muttered against your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo. It relaxed him. You relaxed him, kept him grounded and sane. As long as he got to come back home to you, he’d be fine – he was sure of it.

“Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes. You need to be taken care of.” You dragged him upstairs, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, and preparing a nice bath for him. While he takes off his clothes (assuring you that he wasn’t a baby and that he could get undressed by himself), you go fetch your first aid kid, far too used to the job of patching him up after long, hard missions.

He got inside the bathtub, warm water relieving his sore muscles instantly. He hissed softly when the water reached his stomach, but he said nothing and just sat down, leaning back against the marble tiles, and closing his eyes. He wasn’t going to complain, not when he knew you were about to probably do the very same thing and reprimand him. He knew you loved him. You cared about him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, sitting by his side, and gently beginning to wash him.

“It was nothing,” he replied, eyes still closed.

“Yeah,” you scoffed in response, “Because a gash in your stomach is nothing. Why didn’t you ask Shoko to heal you up? I’m not a trained doctor, Kento.”

“It was late. Didn’t want to be out longer than necessary and possibly worry you even more about my location.” He opened his eyes, and you stared into those lovely amber pools that had never once failed to guide you. “Besides, I trust you to do it. You’ve patched me up before. Nothing you can’t do again. And I’ll heal up in no time.”

You sighed.

On one hand, it was sweet of him. Kento knew how much you worried about him, knew the restless nights you spent waiting for him to say something, text, call, just tell you that he was doing fine. It was considerate of him to get home right away.

On the other hand, it was so downright stupid. How could a man as smart as your husband think it was okay to switch the powers of a reverse curse user for your amateurish medical skills? Shoko had years of practice and experience. Your experience was based solely on fixing him up. They weren’t good, and he shouldn’t be relying on them as often as he did.

“I know that look,” he says softly, lifting his hand to caress your cheek. You could see the way he winced and tried to play it off as the water being too warm. Your husband never wanted to look weak in front of you. “I trust you. You’ve healed me up well in the past. This is nothing compared to what you’ve done before.”

You sighed and shook your head, continuing your process.

You cleaned the area around the wound, and once he was all clean, you helped him dry himself off with a towel. After that, you disinfected the wound and applied some healing ointments you knew had done the trick in the past. You covered his stomach with some bandage and gave it a soft kiss after you were done. It was sort of your magical touch – after the first time, Kento swore it was that simple thing that had managed to get him to heal up quickly and begs you to do it every time.

“There,” you said, caressing his jaw. “All done. But I’m not stitching you – last time I did it, it got all infected, and I’m not risking your health. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Shoko, and she’ll take care of this. Alright?”

“Yes Doctor Nanami,” Kento smiled dutifully and leaned over to connect his lips to yours. You could still feel some of the coppery taste of blood on his tongue, and tried to push those thoughts away as you kissed him back.

“And now, off to sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You helped him up and brought him to your bedroom, where he sat down on your bed with a small grunt. You shot him a worried expression, but he just raised his hands as to assure you everything was alright. With your help, he laid down completely, and you were quick to slot yourself in between his arms. He brought you close and kissed your temple.

“I love you. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” you said, yawning right after.

Nanami smiled and kissed your temple once again, muttering sweet words of adoration until you both fell asleep.

The next day, Kento stayed home.

The only time he left, was to go to Jujutsu High, to get checked on by Shoko. You went with him, not wanting him out of your sight – not when he was injured, and the world of curses never slept.

“Everything should be fine now, but you still have to disinfect the wound some more every time you shower,” she said, fetching for the pack of cigarettes on her pocket and lighting one up and turning to you. “You did a pretty good job patching him up. Why the lack of stiches?”

“I didn’t want them to get infected like last time. I figured he’d be better off like this.”

“You still did a good job.” She puffed out some smoke and shrugged. “You’d do a fine job here with me. How about you consider it? I could use an extra set of hands and – “

“With all due respect, Ieiri, I don’t want to get my wife involved in this world.” Nanami cut her off, placing a protective arm around your waist. “It’s bad enough she has to tend to me sometimes, I won’t let her see the gruesome sights I know you have to deal with on a daily basis.”

Shoko shrugged.

“My offer still stands.”

You both thanked her and made your way home, where Nanami offered to cook up your favourite dish as an apology for getting hurt last night. You sat by your kitchen table, happily watching him as he cut and mixed and did a wonderful job at recreating the food you loved so much.

While you two waited, he took you in his arms and spun you gently around the kitchen, swaying to the rhythm of jazz playing in the radio. He hummed in your ear and kissed you gently. It was soft and slow, and the day was yours to enjoy, so you let yourself melt into his touch. Your husband was safe and sound and nothing could reach you two.

It was good. It was great.

In fact, it felt far too good to be true.

And you feared something was coming up to disrupt your peace.

“I was thinking of staying in tonight,” you said against his chest, the soft beating of his heart almost enough to lull you to sleep. Staying in. Yes. Keeping him home. Safe and sound with you.

“And why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, it’s Halloween. I thought we could go out and celebrate it.”

“We don’t have costumes.” Nanami deadpanned.

“I’m sure we’d find something. But now I just want to stay in with you. Maybe order some takeout, watch a scary movie. What do you think?”

Nanami hummed and bent down to kiss you softly once again, swallowing the soft moan you rewarded him with.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

You spent the rest of the day lazing around, curled up on the couch, watching movies or catching up with old shows that had been long forgotten. At some point, you were sure your husband was taking a nap, and you could only smile, glad he was getting some rest.

“I’m going to shower,” you yawned, looking out of the window. Afternoon was turning into night, and you wanted to clean up the laziness off your body.

“I’ll join you.”

“Ha! No, mister, you’re not going anywhere. No funny business until you’re all healed.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t I shower with my wife anymore?” he faked a surprised expression, and you smiled, glad to see your husband allowed himself to be more laidback at home.

“You can, but you would have to keep your hands to yourself, and I know that’s not possible.”

“You offend me, darling. I am familiar with discipline.”

“The hell you are,” you chuckled, standing up and offering him your hand. “But come on. I need to disinfect your wound again.”

He did as you asked, and you found yourselves in the bathroom once again. You were sitting by his side as usual and were carefully tending to his wound when his phone rang.

“Just leave it – that’s Gojo’s ringtone.” He muttered with a sigh – a sigh that conveyed just how frustrated he was with his coworker.

You nodded and went back to working on his wound but were interrupted by the loud noise of his phone once again. You gave your husband a sympathetic look and he sighed once again, nodding. Standing up, you went to retrieve his phone, only to pick the call up while you returned to the bathroom.

“Hello?”

“[Y/N]? Is Nanami in there?” Gojo asked, urgency clear in his voice.

“Wow, hello to you too, Satoru. What do you want Kento for?”

“Just – please, give the phone to him.”

“Is everything okay?” Now you were getting worried. Gojo was never serious, and he sounded far too worried right now.

“Just put him on the phone!”

So, you did. You couldn’t make out just what the conversation was about. Just that Gojo was extremely worried, and he probably wanted Nanami’s help.

“Hm.” You heard your husband mutter. “I see. Shibuya. Mhm. Who else? Kusakabe? Hm.”

You tried to put the pieces together yourself.

There was something happening in Shibuya, and Gojo needed your husband’s help. Other people were going too, and by the list of names Nanami repeated, you could tell it was probably serious – a lot of people were going.

“I’ll be there in 10.” Having said this, he hung up.

“So?” you asked, looking at him.

“Something is happening in Shibuya Station. Gojo needs my help leading a team of sorcerers.”

Your stomach fell.

Of course. It was far too good to be true. The little peace you’d crafted for yourself and Nanami – it wasn’t real. And something did come to disturb it.

Grabbing the hydrogen peroxide and a cotton ball next to you, you dabbled it softly all over the wound, trying your best not to apply too much pressure. This whole thing gave you the creeps. You couldn’t tell what it was – wife’s intuition, a 5th sense. All you knew was that you did not your husband to leave the house.

You didn’t want your peace disrupted. You could feel something was about to happen.

“Please don’t,” you whispered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t go, Kento.” You repeated, this time more firmly. “Don’t go to work please, just today” After you were done disinfecting the wound, he stood up and quickly grabbed his clothes. You knew the look in his eyes, the determined look that told you he was entering work mode, he was entering overtime.

He sighed and started walking towards the bedroom, picking the first suit he saw on his closet – the beige one, with the dark blue shirt. You liked that suit. It wasn’t very conventional, he could’ve picked a far more “normal” colour to wear like dark blue or even black – but the tan colour matched nicely with his brown eyes, and the dark blue of his shirt contrasted well with his fair skin.

“Gojo sounded worried. I think this is serious. I’ll be back in no time, you’ll see,” he told you, putting his shirt on and grabbing the holster his blunt sword.

“Please – Kento, you’re injured.” You told him, walking to his side. “You can’t go like this!”

“Shoko healed me up, didn’t she? And so did you. I’ll be fine, I promise.” His voice was as reassuring as always, but all you felt in your stomach was a pit that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Not tonight. I – I have a bad feeling about this, I really do,” you held onto his hand, and forced him to look at you, to see the fear and worry in your eyes. He did, and stopped in his tracks, cupping your face with both his hands.

“I promise you; I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured.

“You don’t get it – I have a terrible feeling about this mission. Please stay home,” tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you found it hard to speak, anxiety clogging in your throat and making it burn. “Just for tonight. You can’t go tonight.”

“Honey, they need me. They need my help – what if someone is in danger?”

“Surely they can get someone other than you!” you exclaimed, tears now rolling down your cheeks. It broke his heart to see you like this, crying before him. Nanami brushed your tears away and shook his head.

“They can’t. Gojo knows how much I hate overtime. I can tell he’s being serious right now.”

“They have other sorcerers! Gojo can send in other sorcerers! It can’t always be you! Shit – Please! Kento, don’t go tonight. I’m begging you, stay home.”

Nanami looked at you, furrowing his brows ever so slightly. He knew you. Better than he knew himself, he was sure. He knew you cared about him deeply, he knew you worried like crazy. But you’d never stopped him from going on missions. Sure, you’d try to beg for just five more minutes in bed with him, wanting to cherish every second you got to hold him in your arms, and you checked up on him several times a day just to make sure he was doing fine.

But you never stopped him from doing what he had to do.

You understood how much Jujutsu Sorcery meant to him. You understood why he did what he did, and never once got in his way. You knew it was his calling, and you couldn’t stop him. After all, you loved him. And no matter how much you wanted to protect him; you would always let him do what he felt like he had to.

Today was different.

“And you want me to stay home because you… you have a feeling?” he repeated your words back, shaking his head ever so slightly. “[Y/N], you know I can’t. A feeling is not enough. They need my help.”

“They can get someone else’s!” You were crying now. Actually crying and holding onto his hands as if they were your lifeline. To you, they were. “I, I can’t explain it Kento. I just know something terrible is about to happen. And you’re injured, you haven’t healed completely yet, I… I can’t lose you Kento! I can’t – I’m not ready to say goodbye to you. I don’t think I ever will!”

You embraced him tightly, burying your face on his chest and clutching his blue shirt in your fists as you sobbed.

“I just know… I know… I can feel it… I know something awful is going to happen… Please don’t leave me – don’t leave tonight… I love you Kento, I – I can’t lose you…”

Nanami hugged you back as you sobbed, running a gentle hand through your hand in an attempt to comfort you. He pondered his choices.

Gojo sounded desperate. Something big had clearly happened and he was needed. No other sorcerer could rival his technique alone – there was a good reason, after all, he was a Grade 1 Sorcerer. He could go out and help. They probably needed his help more than anything else. And his guidance.

But you… You just looked so frightened, so anxious. Scared that some force more powerful than him would take his soul, his life. He titled your head up with his other hand and took you all in. Your eyes were red from all the crying, your nose was runny, and your lips were puffy and open as you mumbled a string of pleas, all with the same intent. Don’t leave tonight.

He’d never seen you like this.

And he was positive he never wanted to do so ever again.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Your eyes were wide as saucers and your breath quickened.

“Really?”

Nanami hummed in response and kissed you sweetly. You, however, kissed him with all you were feeling. The anxiety and fear of losing him, the desperation to keep him by your side, the undying love you had for him. You poured all these emotions into your kiss, hoping they’d speak louder than the words you couldn’t come up with. You then looked at him and teared up again, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. Bread, fireplace, and fresh new books. He smelled like home.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, still running his hand through your hair. “I’ve got you.”

You stood like that for a while, in his arms while he whispered soothing words in your ear.

After a while, he picked you up and took you to the living room, sitting on the couch and placing you on his lap. You snuggled into him, refusing to let him go. Your hands were all over him, and you tried to get closer to him, as if that were even possible. You were so tangled up; it was hard to tell where he ended, and you began.

Nanami silently took the TV remote and picked a movie you had mentioned wanting to watch for Halloween night. He held you close, covering both of your bodies with a blanket, his hand firmly on your thigh to remind you that he was here.

Gojo needed his help. That was true. And however dramatic he may be, he could be serious when he wanted, and forego his cocky, careless demeanour.

But you needed him. And Nanami had spent far too many nights out in missions, coming home battered black and blue, covered in blood and big purple bruises, worrying you to death. He’d seen how you looked at him earlier – like you truly believed he would be taken away from you. And it broke his heart.

Gojo could manage on his own. He’d done it before. Nanami had sacrificed far too many hours for Jujutsu Sorcery. Surely, he’d done enough to warrant a night off, to spend with the love of his life. Right?

“Thank you,” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, trying not to cry again.

“I love you. And I don’t want to worry you.” Was his ushered reply as he placed soft kisses on the side of your head. He felt you smile into his skin, and the gesture was enough to make him melt in your embrace.

Yeah.

He’d surely done enough to earn a night with you.

Gojo could manage.

For now, all he wanted was to curl up with his wife on the couch, and comfort her until she no longer cried, watch a movie or two, chuckle when she got scared and hid in his chest.

Yeah.

He’d earned it.

Because nothing could ever matter more than you.

A/N: And that's it!!! I hope I managed to give all Nanami fans some solance - in my head, this is how it went down. Nanami stayed home with us, and later he retired and we moved to Malaysia. All is well.

I hope you all enjoyed it! I certainly did - I love writing for Nanami. He's such an interesting character!

Have a wonderful day (and weekend) ahead, everyone! <3

[bradshawsbaby]

“please don’t scare me like that again.  i can take a lot of things,  but not losing you” with bob? boyfriend on board with be so Emotional if you said this to him🥺😭

I feel like this is the perfect prompt for a little post-bird strike scene!

Nothing could have prepared you for the terror you felt when you picked up the phone one sunny afternoon, the stoic voice of Vice Admiral Simpson reporting that your fiancé had been involved in a training accident and was being held in the infirmary for observation.

Bird strike. Ejection. Burn in. They were nothing but words, disjointed phrases floating around in your muddled brain like alphabet soup as you slid to the floor, phone pressed tightly to your ear even as you struggled to make sense of what the man on the other end of the line was saying.

You knew that what your future husband did for a living was dangerous. Heck, it was one of the most dangerous professions out there. And you had known as well as he that when he got called back to TOPGUN for a top secret training mission, there was a chance you would never see him again.

But now that that chance had nearly become a reality, you found that you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t force any of the words you wanted to get out past your lips.

“Is he—is he going to be alright?” you finally managed to say after a shaky breath. There was a chance you’d cut off Vice Admiral Simpson, but you couldn’t be sure.

There was a pause for half a heartbeat, then he said, “Yes. He should be. He’s resting now, but I’ll leave a message for him to call you as soon as he’s able.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, the tears starting to flow once you hung up.

You sat vigil by your phone for the next two hours, until it finally began buzzing with a FaceTime call.

“Bob!” you sobbed out as soon as his precious face filled your screen.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” he greeted you, attempting a lighthearted tone despite the fact that his face was battered and bruised and his voice rasped with exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” you demanded, trying to keep your voice down and stop yourself from overwhelming him. “Vice Admiral Simpson called and I was so worried! What’s happening? Should I fly out there? Are you—”

“Hey, hey,” Bob cooed gently, holding his hand up to the camera as if he could touch your face through the screen. “I’m alright. I promise. A little banged up, to be expected, but the doctors said I’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

“Oh, Bob,” you gasped, weeping in relief. “Please don’t scare me like that again,” you begged him. “I can take a lot of things, but not losing you. I’d never survive that.”

You could tell, even through the phone, that your words had made him emotional. His throat was bobbing as he fought back tears, his blue eyes welling up as he looked at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, I never want to put you through that,” he whispered. “I’m going to come home to you. I promise.”

Sniffling softly, you curled up on the couch, holding your phone close to your face. “Can you stay for a little while? I just want to look at you.”

Bob smiled, nodding as he brought his own phone a bit closer to his face. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

soft(ish) angst prompts

[munsonfamilyband]

This was supposed to be a little headcanon thing, and it turned into a drabble that is also mildly NSFW so tw mild sexual content, it’s mostly just implied but still

——————-

Eddie is very possessive. He knows he’s possessive, and when pressed for a reason why, he would guess that it has to do with growing up poor. When you don’t have a lot of items to call your own, you get possessive of the things you have.

He didn’t expect it to extend to relationships though. He had never had a real relationship before, the closest thing was a regular fuck buddy that lasted a couple months. But now he has Steve and sometimes his possessiveness scares him.

When he looks at Steve sometimes he gets this dark, heavy feeling in his chest that he needs to keep Steve all to himself. Lock him away in their bedroom and never let him leave, never let the rest of the world see him. He knows it’s irrational and probably not all that healthy, and the fact that he knows this keeps him from acting on in most of the time. Unfortunately, he is only human after all, and sometimes he can’t help but let that need to have Steve all to himself take control.

The most common times it happens are at shitty little bars (getting less shitty each month though) where he and the band are performing. The adrenaline from the stage always gets his blood boiling, and Steve always dresses up in his own little ways. Usually it means tighter jeans and a crop top under Eddie’s vest, but sometimes he wears one of his own sweaters and people stare. Of course they stare, it’s a metal concert and there’s Steve in his blue jeans, sinfully tight, and a soft sweater in baby blue or yellow or purple, he stands out like a sore thumb. Those days, Eddie gets off the stage and usually finds Steve being cornered in a subtle way, sometimes it’s just assholes trying to start a fight with the normie. That pisses Eddie off, but what gets that dark thing in his chest screaming are the men and women, in their leather and denim, who corner his baby with hunger in their eyes. They see him in his soft clothes and see an easy meal, and it gets Eddie to throw caution to the wind and slide up behind Steve, wrapping his arms around him from behind and sliding a hand under the bottom of his sweater. He knows it’s dangerous, being that overt, but he’s not in control of his actions, all that he can think about is how someone else is looking at his baby and they need to be stopped.

Those nights always end happily for both of them, because Steve loves Eddie’s possessive side. Steve who has had so little love in his life, who has felt like a second choice for so long. Steve who feels like is only purpose is to help others. Steve savors all the love Eddie gives him, and those moments where Eddie’s fingers dig into his skin a little harder, where he pulls him back into him with a little more force set Steve’s skin alight with fire and love. He’s not stupid, he can see when people are interested, and he never plays into their interest, but he’s never had to. When Steve has someone in front of him with lust written across their face, he knows that within a few minutes Eddie will be pressed against his back, hands on his skin and insistent pressure against his back. He can never stop his reaction to Eddie in those moments, leaning into the contact with a dopey smile on his face, and the people in front of him always leave soon after. They never stay for very long after that either, Eddie rushing through packing up their equipment so that he and Steve can go home.

These nights always end the same, Steve and Eddie curled together in their bed, with sweat and come cooling on their skin. Steve is clinging to Eddie like he’s a teddy bear, unwilling to let go for even a moment. Sometimes his wrists are rubbed raw, other times his ass is nearly bruised, but he always ends the night covered in bite marks and bruises where everyone can see.

But secretly, Steve is possessive too, he’s just quieter about it. Steve always had items of his own, too many things that belonged to him but no one to share them with. So now that he has Eddie, someone who loves him with every part of his being and who lets Steve love him back with his everything, Steve refuses to let him go. So on those nights, when he’s nearly suctioned himself to Eddie’s front, his hands trace along the marks he left along Eddie’s skin, the bite marks on his shoulders and the scratches along his back.

They both know it may not be healthy to want each other this badly, but they figure that they can get away with it. After all, they almost lost the chance at this all together.

[spicyspiders]

heey! so what about a fic where m!reader and leon are known each other (thanks to their jobs), but never really interacted but they always felt really attracted about each other. and one day they randomly meet again because they had the same mission, and they just finally do the deed?🤔 (and just a some extra lol -big age gap between them- and i hope ada is jealous haha) i hope i explained well, english is not my first language😭😭

I changed some stuff about your request as I wrote it, I hope you don’t mind. There isn’t really an age gap in this fic as I didn’t specify the reader’s age, but I was thinking of Leon from the fourth game as I wrote this, and he’s 27. Warning for smut of course, as well as a light description of an injury the reader gets.

“Leon?”

In your doorway, Leon turns around to face you, a grocery bag in one hand. Out of uniform, he doesn’t look all that different in his dark shirt and pants. It’s topped off with an expensive-looking leather jacket on his broad shoulders.

“Brought you something,” he says, holding up the bag with a smile. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you respond quickly before you ask him a dumb question, like how he’s able to afford that jacket on the salary you both make. You step to the side and press your back to the wall to make sure he can fit through the doorway, “come in.”

You end up asking one anyway once he’s through the door and you’ve shut it, “can I take your jacket?”

Leon laughs softly as he places the bag on your couch, “I’ve got it. You should be resting anyway,” he responds as he pulls his coat off. You watch with careful eyes as his skin becomes more exposed. His arm brushes yours when he steps past you to place it on your coat rack. It was one of your first big-boy purchases with your new paycheck, so you were happy to see it be put to use.

“Someone had to answer the door,” you say, trying to cross your arms to look cool and sexy for your cool and sexy guest, but you flinch when the action pulls at your bruised side.

“I would’ve gotten in eventually,” he says with a smirk.

“Yes because you just had to bring me,” you try glancing down into the bag, seeing something cylindrical, “soup?”

One of the first things you learned about Leon was how quick he was on his feet, so when you try to open the bag to see what else is in it, he quickly snatches it away. “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” You ask, your heartbeat quickening in your chest.

“Let me check your injuries,” Leon responds, pulling out a roll of bandages and a container of ointment. His face leaves no room for protest, especially when he puts on the stern face he makes all the time at work.

You roll your eyes, but slowly begin pulling your shirt off. On the day you came home with your injuries, you were nearly sweating by the time you got out of your uniform from the pain of being thrown to the concrete while chasing down a criminal, and a day later, taking off and putting on your clothes was now a strenuous activity.

“Easy,” Leon says softly, “let me help you.” One of his hands goes up the back of your shirt, while the other meets the bunched-up fabric at the back of your neck after he pushes it up.

“Thanks,” you whisper when your shirt is over your head and down your arms. Your fingers brush his when you take the shirt and toss it over onto your loveseat.

“Sit,” Leon pats down to the spot beside him after he sits down.

You sit down slowly, but not close enough for Leon’s liking, which he fixes with a warm hand on your uninjured left side. “Come here,” he says softly into your ear before he pulls you closer until your thigh is nearly touching his.

“You didn’t have to come to check on me,” you say as Leon gets to work.

“You’re our rookie, of course I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

You turn your head so Leon can’t see how hard you roll your eyes, “I don’t need a reminder,” you say bitterly.

“We were all like you once,” Leon says as he grabs the ointment and takes the cap off, “have you washed this?”

“Three times now: once when I got back to the station, once at home last night, and once this morning.”

“Good boy,” Leon responds, the words filling your stomach with warmth, “it’ll heal nicely if you keep it clean.” You gasp when the cold gel touches your side, and when you look back over, you can only see the top of Leon’s head, but are easily able to hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks, “cold?”

“A little,” you respond through gritted teeth when your side starts to sting.

“I know, baby,” Leon murmurs as his other hand goes to your cheek to wipe away the tear you hadn't realized fell, “I’m almost done.”

The pet name has your cock chubbing up in your pants. You bring your legs tight together to hide, but the friction only makes it worse.

“Shh,” Leon mistakenly coos, thinking the noise you make at the feeling is one of pain and not of pleasure. His fingers move from your side to start getting the bandage on your side. By the time he’s done, your side feels wet and warm. It’s nearly uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable when you feel a glob of precum leak from the head of your cock. Of course it’s on one of the days you decide to go commando.

“You must be tired, let’s lay down,” Leon says, already grabbing one of the pillows beside him to get you comfortable. You hear the crinkle of the bag too, but you assume it’s from him putting the ointment and bandages away. Really, you’re just too worried about lying down while not letting Leon see the bulge in your pants.

He knows though. Of course, he fucking knows. He knows everything, it feels like. Leon settles tightly behind your body once you’ve laid down. The space is tight, leaving no room between your bodies, letting you feel exactly just how hard he is in his pants.

You aren’t sure if you should grind your ass back into Leon’s cock or reach between your legs for your own. Leon makes the decision for you, or rather he pleads for you to let him, “let me take care of you,” he says into the back of your neck.

It takes a few moments to get your pants down and Leon’s open enough to get your cocks free. Leon’s cock is much more wet than you expect when he pushes it in between your thighs, and his fingers are just as wet when they wrap around your cock.

“Is that something else you bought?”

Leon chuckles, his lips brushing the skin of your neck, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, wanted this,” he says as he strokes your cock just as he also thrusts his cock between your legs.

You had an idea of how much he did. You didn’t know how long it was for Leon, but for you, it wasn’t long after you joined Racoon City’s police department that you started wanting him. At first, it had started with lustful looks that became full of longing. It wasn't like you could see your face, but from how Ada and Claire would try to hide their laughter, you guessed it was pretty intense to cause such a reaction.

Leon caught you a few times, but you would always look away quickly before you could embarrass yourself even further. It was only a few weeks ago that when you mustered up the courage to look back at Leon, he would still be looking at you.

“That was such a good morning meeting, wasn’t it, Ada?” Claire asked when you all were in the breakroom.

”It was!” She answered before turning her sights to Leon who stood near the microwave, “what was your favorite part, Leon?” She asked.

Chris answered for Leon instead, “I think his favorite part was who was in the meeting, not what was said.

The three erupt into a fit of laughter as you glare at them from where they sit at the table. It was then that you decided going out for lunch would be a better idea than to eat what you packed the night before. You almost wanted to ask Leon that day if he wanted to join you, but didn’t want to give the others the satisfaction of knowing that they’re right.

“I’ve wanted you,” your voice breaks off into a moan, “practically since I started.” You try to move in Leon’s grip to get more of the pleasure he’s giving you, but Leon throws an arm around you to stop the movements you make.

“I’ve got you,” Leon says, “let me take care of you,” he says once more.

“I can,” your voice falls to a groan, “take care of myself,” you say after trying again, but Leon is just too strong. Him and his stupidly muscular body. You could admit that you were still learning when it came to your job, but you didn’t want Leon to use that against you in the bedroom too.

“I know you can,” Leon says before he maneuvers you onto your back while he holds himself above you on his forearms. “Can you blame me for wanting to?” He asks before swooping down to press his lips to yours, any thought that you have of responding leaves your brain when Leon’s tongue enters your mouth.

“It drives me crazy. I can’t even watch you do your job without wanting to kill anyone who tries to hurt you,” Leon says after pulling away, “please just let me-”

Not that you didn’t want to hear Leon beg, you decide to take mercy on him by pulling him into another kiss with a hand at the back of his neck.

“Please,” you whisper against his mouth when the kiss ends. You bring your hips up to press your hard cock to his, the both of you moaning at the feel.

Leon nods before he brings on his hands between your bodies to wrap his fingers around your cocks. They’re wet and warm around your cock, and you can already tell that it won’t take you long to cum, that and also the sight and sound of Leon above you.

Though you spent much more time than you wanted to admit imagining the sounds Leon would make, hearing them in person just didn’t compare to your imagination. “Such a good boy,” Leon moans, a sound that goes straight to your cock, “letting me take care of you,” he says as the pace of his strokes speeds up.

“Thank you,” you moan, “it feels so good,” you say as your head falls to the pillow beneath it and you feel your orgasm build.

“Are you close?” He asks.

You’re almost too distracted as your eyes track a bead of sweat that runs down the side of Leon’s forehead, but when you open your mouth to respond, your orgasm takes you by surprise. The feeling of it runs through your veins as hot ropes of cum shoot from your cock onto your stomach, you just hoped it didn’t land on your bandages.

Above you, Leon groans as he goes even faster. Just moments after yours, Leon joins you in orgasmic bliss. The sight and sound of Leon’s orgasm only lasts a few minutes, but you can tell it’s something you won’t forget for a long time.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask as Leon lays himself down onto your chest, careful to not try and jostle your injury.

“Hm?” Leon rumbles, too out of it to answer the question, “did you ask if you wanted to go lay in your bed for the rest of the day together?”

-

It takes a few days for you to feel well enough to go back to work, and on your drive to the station, you can’t help but wonder if it would have taken even longer if Leon hadn’t come to see you.

Still too early to be fully competent, Ada greets you as you’re placing your lunch in the fridge. You had to quickly wipe the smile from your face as you remembered the night before in your kitchen with Leon packing your lunch while stealing kisses from each other as you went along. Before he left your place, you practically had to push him out the door for him to leave, while you had to keep yourself locked in place to keep from following.

“I am a little jealous, you know,” she says, leaning against the counter next to you.

“Jealous?” You ask, unsure if you heard her correctly from being too tired.

“You’re way too cute for old man Leon.”

Your brows furrow as you close the door to the fridge, “aren’t you older than Leon?”

[vqlluna]

SOBER CONFESSIONS ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

drunken truths p1

summary: Kissing Remus that night was the only thing on your mind the entire month, and you haven't seen him since then. You both happen to bump into each other in distress in the safety at Lily's apartment in the middle of the night. Turns out Remus got into a fight, for you?

notes: f!rich!reader x poor!remus lupin, goody-two-shoes!reader x stoner!remus wounds, fluff, frenemies to lovers Remus is sassy and sweet

a/n: as promised, I'm delivering a part two! Sorry it took to long, been brainstorming/daydreaming and fixing/adding details for the past few days! Enjoyyy

IT'S NOT FUN WHEN YOUR MIND FUSSES OVER ONE THING AND ONE THING ONLY. You never remember your drunken nights, that was until a month ago. Even if the rest of the night is a blur you can surely still feel the lingers of Remus' lips, and his touch, and his confessions.

That was the first time you truly accepted to yourself how much you wanted him, but what would be the chances? Lightly touching upon the subject with your parents, especially your mother, did not go well. Now all your most precious belongings sat in a suitcase in the middle of James' and Lily's living room.

Even further so, being locked tight in a small flat with people who constantly talked about their wolfish friend, didn't help get him off your mind. So instead you found yourself busying yourself every day for the past month.

This is how countless shopping bags also ended up beside that suitcase on the floor. It's also how you'd been going out to party so much on your own, desperate to find a man that both you and your mother could approve of so you could move back home to your luxurious bed.

Tonight's adventure was truly needed, as James and Lily just couldn't provide you with foods that fit your, quite expensive, tastes. Now you end up coming back after a late-night trip to the twenty-four-hour grocery mart.

You jumble around as you open the door, pushing it open with your back before you twirl back around. In between the bags of produce that you held in your arm, you see a head of short hair peeping at the edge of the couch which presses against the side of the wall.

"James?" You ask, you go to your left as you enter the small kitchen, setting the bags on the short island turning the lights above the countertops on.

You turn back to the couch enveloped in shadow and chuckle, "What'd you do to Lils this time?" you tease after remembering the one time you'd come over as James had to sleep on the couch after an argument.

You smiled to yourself excited for being able to shove him off of it in a few minutes after putting everything away.

"Definitely m'not James" the person on the couch mumbled, their voice slipping out like silk. You froze as your back faced away from the living room, coincidentally a few bars of expensive chocolate in your hands, ready to be put away.

"What are you doing here, Remus?" you looked slightly over your shoulder as a shiver went through your body. The one person who you were constantly trying not to think about now lay down in the same room as you.

"What are you doing here?"

"I asked first."

You turned around, shoving your groceries to the side as you turned on the lamp at the end table beside the sofa. You widen your eyes as Remus' appearance matched his explanation. "Was out with Prongs, he dragged me back here after I got ina fight with some bloke."

Whatever bloke, had had the guts to fight Remus surely gave him a nasty bruise at his eye. What surprised you even more was his missing jumper which he had turned into a makeshift pillow. Ignoring the flush at your cheeks and the wild thoughts in your mind you could see imprints of nails that dug at his shoulders, dried blood around them.

At the top of his forehead sat even more dried blood and small cuts around his cheeks, and the scars scattered around his body didn't help his appearance.

"Merlin, Remus! Did James even try fixing you up?" you scolded, and even wanted to scowl as Remus' rolled his eyes.

"Calm down. I'm fine."

"And where was Lily?"

"Fast asleep," he shrugged, "We didn't want to wake her— Now care to explain why you're here?" he pushed on, changing the topic away from him.

Your eyes dashed around him in worry, it wasn't all that bad, but without the proper care anything could get infected. "I live here now—" you mumbled before switching the topic back, "Remus you, you need some ice," you finalized walking to the freezer.

Remus watched as you slipped a mound of ice cubes into a plastic bag before wrapping it in cloth. You returned back, setting yourself at the edge of the couch beside him. "Here," you said out reaching the makeshift ice pack.

The boy cocked an eyebrow at you soon shrugging you off, "M'fine," he reiterated.

You huffed, softly pressing the ice to this eye yourself, holding it there despite his tries to move it off.

"Stubborn," he grumbled.

"Evasive."

Your stomach fluttered as you noticed the corner of his lips picked up slightly. "So why are you living here, Princess?" he asked, sending another shiver down your side, you'd never get over the name.

"Got in an argument with my mother about quite a few things. She kicked me or, or really I just left. Lily let me crash," you explained rapidly. You didn't want to explain that the main argument was over how your Mother couldn't let you marry someone of "his status".

Carefully you took his hand pressing it over the ice pack to keep it in place, "M'gonna, I'm gonna get you some anti-septic, hold on. And keep that damn ice on your face!"

As you left Remus did take the ice off for a second in spite. Taking his jumper away from his head, he laid it over his torso, feeling insecure of his scars ever since you turned the lamp on, especially when you looked him over quite a few times.

When he heard your foot steps come down back the hallway he replaced the ice pack on his eye, curiously eyeing the wet cloth and bottles in your hands.

A fter returning you removed the ice pack yourself, setting it on the coffee table, much to Remus' delight. What wasn't very settling to him was when you mentioned how you were too clean up the cuts, especially the gash on his forehead.

"Might hurt," you whispered, pouring some solution on a cotton pad and applying it to the tiny cuts and imprints first. You then moved his temple, you slowly pouring it over. Remus winced and seethed, making a frown appear on your lips. You took the wet rag off your leg as you cleaned up the dried blood. "Sorry."

If he was being honest with himself, he didn't mind. The closer to him you were, the better. He was hopeful you didn't notice his constant stare on you as you worked on healing his wounds. So fussed over him he itched himself with the question, "Why are you doing this?"

Grateful for the dim lighting, you cheeks heated up. "Well, you're currently residing on my bed. Sooner I patch you up, sooner I get to sleep."

"Well I could always make some room. No problem with sharing," he teased, the extra wink he added pushing you over the edge. For as long as you can remember Remus was also teasingly flirting with you to boil your anger, now you questioned if he did it to genuinely drop hints.

You clenched your jaw, scrunching your nose at him with fake disgust. You set the alcohol and rag back down and picked up a small butterfly strip to apply to the open cut that kept glaring at you from his forehead. "Remus, what happened?" you question concerning to whatever fight he'd wound himself in.

"—Do you remember the party last month?" he cut in right before you applied the bandage, making you freeze once again, but with the power you had, you managed to nod. "What do you remember?"

Simply with the stare you gave him silently told him that you remembered what was important. "Look, I'm sorry for, for kissing you. You were drunk and— It was Rosier."

You wanted to answer, to tell him that you enjoyed the kiss, if it wasn't for the end of the sentence that caught your ears. "What about him?" You'd only brought Rosier that night because your parents would've never let you out of the house to attend some house party with James and everyone.

"Me and Prongs were at a pub t'night. We bumped into him and the git was saying nasty things 'bout you. M'guessing he found out about that night, and I tried telling 'im off but," he rambled and slowed down at the end.

Motioning your head for him to continue. Remus took a breath and furthered on, "He started talking crap about me and then my fist did the rest of the talking," he chuckled, "Prick was a coward at the end and ended up just hittin' me over the head with a bottle." Well, that explained the cuts all over his face.

You looked at him in slight up, your lips parted, "What'd he say about me?"

"S'not important."

"What did he say, Remus."

You needed to know what things were being said about you behind your back. Though you had your difficulties with your family, you weren't going to let bad-mouthing of you ruin everything. You didn't want shame put on your name from a lonely, rich bastard.

But most of all you wanted to know what riled Remus up so much that he'd take a hit of glass to the head for you. Putting down the strip you occupied him by then putting the ice back on his eye. And as you stared at him so intently he couldn't say no to you.

"He called you a—a slut and a bloody whore," he said quietly, looking away as his jaw clenched and teeth gritted, "Just rambling on to all his muppets on how it wouldn't be long till you moved onto them and their servants." You heart sped up tenderly as you saw how furious and emotional he got over the subject.

It surprised to you know that truly, somewhere, Remus had a heart for you. You bit the inside of your cheek figuring out what to say next. You busied yourself switching back on bandaging the cut up again, talking while you applied it on to distract him from the pain.

"You shouldn't have punched him though, you fool," you laughed very softly, not letting him know that knowing what Evan Rosier had been saying about you affected you as much as it did, "Can't doubt that the prat will press charges."

"It's worth it."

You set the peelings of the strip back down in the small box beside all the other items. Remus twisted his legs around you before planting his feet on the ground sitting beside you.

While months ago, being so close in his vicinity would have you fuming, itching to get to the other side of the room, you now sat with goosebumps all over your body, a rapidly beating heart, and twiddling your fingers in your lap like a dunce.

"Did you mean what you said that night?" the question slipping out of your lips while you craned your neck to look at him. "When you said I was pretty, and charming, and that you liked me, did you mean it?" The only answer Remus gave you was silence, a shaky inhale was the only thing that was heard other than the chirps of crickets outside.

His jaw shook slightly while his lips were brought into a fine line, "Yes," he said. You blinked and looked down into the tiny sliver of space that was in between you two. And now this time Remus was anxiously awaiting your repsonse.

"I like you too," you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. Remus' fingers twitched at his sides and he gave you a singular nod.

"Good." He turned around, stretching out to grab his jumper as he stood up and put it on. "I should get going now, since I'm all patched up." You cursed yourself in your mind for being sad as the fabric covered his torso.

The air around you two was thick and weirdly awkward. "Do you want a cuppa?" you blurted, "Before you go. I got this special tea from the market."

Remus nodded, "That'd be nice, thanks," he muttered. You got up and squeezed your way past him, sending shocks up his arm. You got the counter and shifted through the bags picking out two different boxes of tea bags. "Which would you like, I have—" As you turned around to show him the options you were surprised at his very close presence behind you.

He looked like he was shaking himself out of something as he apologized, "Sorry."

You turned back setting the boxes back down on the marble as a sudden urge came over you. You cursed once more to yourself biting your lip in contemplation. "Fuck it," you uttered so quietly that only you'd hear it.

You whirled back around stopping as you caught Remus' eye. And for what seemed like hours, the two of you just stared. It wasn't like the night at the party, where his eyes glazed all over you face, he was simply just looking at your eyes, and it both scared you and make you feel warm at the same time. "Can I kiss you?" you questioned.

His lips crawled into a mixture of a smirk and a grin, "You don't need to ask me that ever, Princess." You stomach filled with butterflies at your anxiousness. His hand snaked to cup your face pulling the two of you in, but he didn't dare let your lips touch.

It wasn't like the last, where he'd gone in so quickly, instead, you waited there with your eyes closed begging him in your mind to just do it. In fact, it gave some odd comfort at the thought that he might be relishing himself in the moment just before he finally attached to you.

But just like the last, when it happened you were overwhelmed with a rush of dizziness. This time though the kiss felt extremely gentle, he kissed you like you were made of glass. Because while that night, kissing him felt like a fight of realising feelings, this one felt like dancing in them.

It wasn't long before the two of you got tired of having to contort you necks, and so Remus aided you on your try to hop up and sit on the counter. Carelessly you both pushed the paper bags and boxes of tea aside, making quite a ruckess you giggled.

You hands found themselves in what you decided your now favourite place to put them, tangled in his hair. And his own, what was then decided from the very beginning, resting back along your hips, least to say you had a strong sense of deja vu.

Remus stumbled, creaking and shoving the stool beside him and the tug you gave at his hair earned you a small groan from him before he parted for a moment. "If we keep making noise like this they're bound to wake up and kick us out."

You pecked him lips before adding a remark of your own, "You're the one making all the noise you idiot. Besides, wouldn't be the first time you've ruined something."

You felt the chuckle he gave fan out against your face while he pressed his nose into yours, "Here I was thinking that when you finally liked me the shots would end."

"If I recall you're the one who starting throwing the shots first."

"Can't blame me for wanting your attention," he shrugged, capturing your lips one again and capturing you in a little shock you'd accidentally completely knocked the boxes of tea off the counter. "So I'm the one making all the noise huh?"

"Shut up," you breathe dipping back in. Just then the door at the end of the apartment twisted open and your red-haired friend barged down the hallway, and the dazed lost puppy that was James stumbled down the hall with her.

She had a stern look on her face as her wand was raised at the ready. As she caught sight at the two of you, Remus in between your legs with your arms wrapped around him, her jaw dropped. "What the hell?!" she yelled, a smug smile on her face.

You peeked over Remus' shoulder looking to Lily whilst she gave you a supportive shake of her head. "I'm home!" you cheesily said quietly.

James, not taking in anything that was going on around him, dragged his hands down his face as he turned around and walked back into his room as Lily told him, "We can get back to bed, love, nothing but people who've gone mad!" she suggested toward the pair of you.

She turned back around before she entered back into her room. "If you two do anything," she scolded, wagging her wand, "I will curse your nuts, Moony, and donate your trash collection of books!" she scowled, slamming the door shut.

Remus' shoulders shook as he laughed quietly. Upon looking back at him your eyes immediately found his again realising he hadn't once looked away during the interaction. "I think we've found you a new enemy," he teased.

You rolled your eyes, "I'd never hate anyone as much as I hate you. Especially not Lils," you emphasized. Your breath was stuck as he started pecking and nipping at your jaw. He made his way around your neck, collarbone, and face, surely leaving a pair of hickeys somewhere before he place one last kiss at your lips.

"Y'sure about that, Princess?"

I'll let you all decide if you want more of them

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Hi hello hi my love, I was scrolling through your posts to make you a little collage and I saw that my bb boy finnick bbgorl love is on your list for your follower celebration !!

If it pleases you, would you write something domestic with the love of my life finnick? And congrats again, ilysm!!!

I love you!! And I love my babygirl <3

When Finnick returns from the beach, you’re still sound asleep, and he’d be a little jealous of your rest if you didn’t look so angel, so peaceful and perfect as you lay twisted in the sheets, mouth parted as you breath and eyelashes kissing your delicate skin. You’re bathed in warm sunlight sneaking in through the gauzy curtains you love so much that do so little to keep the light out.

He should shower, rinse away the sand and salt crystals sticking to his body, but he knows you love the way he smells when he comes straight from the ocean, like salt and oranges and something so deep and clean you’re like to drown in it, and the saltwater only makes his curls more pronounced and he’s loathe to make you frown when you see him, so he decides he won’t shower until you wake, until you smile and hug him with your nose pressed to his throat. He knows you’d kill him if he got sand in the sheets, so even though it pains him, he walks from the bedroom and leaves you to your slumber, missing you as soon as he closes the door.

It doesn’t take long for you to emerge, squinting against the sunlight and your hair sticking up in gravity defying designs.

“When’d you get back?” You ask, sounding sleepy and a little pouty that he’s been home and you didn’t know.

“Just now, I was just about to wake you,” he lies, but then you smile and everything’s worth it, and you’re stepping around the counter to wrap your arms around his waist, settling your face into the crook of his neck, and everything he’s ever survived is worth it for this very moment.

“You smell nice,” your voice is muffled against his skin but he can hear your smile, and it would be impossible to keep a smile off his face when you look and sound and act the way you do. He just hums in acknowledgment, too overwhelmed with too many feelings to trust his voice.

You detach from him, and he’s suddenly much colder than he’s ever been without your sleepy warmth at his back, but you’re yawning and stretching and he can’t complain when you look so lovely. Your legs are exposed, long expanses of skin and slight bruises and he knows what you’re going to ask before you even open your mouth.

“Wanna go back to the beach later? I miss the sun,” you say as if you aren’t his own personal sunshine, as if you wouldn’t eclipse the sun and moon and stars in your beauty, but it’s been dark and rainy for the past few days and he understands your craving for the sunshine and the heat that comes with it. He agrees readily, wanting nothing more than to see you smile, grin stretching from ear to ear and crinkling your eyes. Every time he sees you, he swears you’ve never looked more beautiful, only to think the same thing a second later, again and again as you continue to prove him wrong.

The day is lazy and balmy, heat filtering in from your open windows and your sun-warmed skin, having spent the rest of the morning stretched out along the beach, napping under the sun while Finnick took care to remind you to flip this way and that to protect your skin as much as possible. You’re still sleepy now, the sun making you drowsy, and Finnick feels much the same, lulled to the brink of sleep as you run your hair through his curls, longer and lighter than they’ve ever been as he settles into this peaceful life with you.

Sometimes he’s afraid to sleep, afraid to wake up, afraid that everything he’s had with you, the life you’ve carefully crafted hand in hand, will all be a magnificently painful dream that will disappear the second he opens his eyes. You’re always there, though, angelic asleep next to him or gently twisting your fingers through his hair or doing your own thing in one of the other rooms in your house.

Now, though, he couldn’t fight the urge to sleep even if he wanted to, the exhaustion from his early morning swim finally catching up to him and the steady rise and fall of your breathing relaxes him more than he’d ever think possible, and it’s only moments later that the two of you are fast asleep, bathed in golden light as the sun crawls from the sky. You’ll wake later and complain about being too well rested to sleep through the night, but once you find yourself wrapped in your soft sheets and Finnick’s soft embrace, you’ll fall asleep again, peaceful and perfect and the routine will start again, like the most wonderful dream.

[codfanficedits]

Cheating Ghost, full version.

I've always posted this in the parts as I wrote them, this is the full story. This story came to mind after I've suffered childhood abuse, and now my brother is following in the footsteps of my father.

Also, happy birthday to me.

CW: Domestic Violence, mentions of sex/describing sexual acts, mentions of rape.

18+ MDNI.

Ghost POV:

My hands on her hips, my lips leaving hickeys on her neck, my hard cock against her stomach. It all felt so right. Expect she wasn’t you. She was better than you, sexier, hotter, willing to try all the positions you wouldn’t do. She looked at me with the most hypnotizing eyes when I called her a good girl, those same eyes sparked when I called her my filthy slut. She was everything you couldn’t be for me. The first few times I felt incredibly guilty, I would spent minutes watching over you when you slept, cursing myself for being so weak, but as time passed, my heart stopped aching. Instead your flaws were showing even more. I knew you too well for you to be ever exciting again, I knew the way your lips tasted, the way your body felt on mine, I could predict your every move.

It took me 2 extra days to come home to you again. I had been dreading the moment, waiting until the very last moment to come home. Her smell still wrapped around my body as I set foot into our bedroom.

YOUR POV:

You and Ghost have been together for three years. You moved across the country for him, 10 days after you met him. You had been at his side ever since. You were there after the good missions, the bad missions and the failed mission. You were there to kiss his bruises, to hold him while he cried about a fallen teammate, you were there to celebrate every success he had in his career.

But lately things had changed. His mission taking longer than you were used to, him being more distant, no longer sharing the details of a mission with you. The first few weeks you tried to ignored it, thought it was because of a bad mission, but after a while you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something was going on. Ghost was away on a mission when you received a text from one of his teammates, telling you he had seen Ghost leave with another woman. It left your heart shattered. You wouldn’t believe it at first, Ghost would never do this to you. But you knew it would fit, it was the missing piece of information to tie all of his odd behaviour together. You tried to ignore it at first, until the place you used to call home, was no longer appealing to return to. You could hear him set foot into the bedroom. You waited, pretending to sleep so you wouldn’t have to face him. He just stood there, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move. “Hey..” You said, making your voice sound hoarse. “How long have you been standing there?” You ask him.

“I was just admiring the view.” He answered. The fucking liar. You kick back the blankets and pat on the bed. “Come here, I’ve missed you.”

He starts to undress, and you pretend you don’t see the hickeys on his happy trail. Looking at it makes me feel sick. He slides in to bed with me, and you can feel the distance. “How was the mission?” You ask, your fingertips caressing his jawline, like you always do. “Oh you know, same old, same old.” He tells you. You can smell her on him, her perfume smells floral and expensive. He didn’t even have the respect for you to at least take a shower before coming home to you. You roll over to your other side, “let’s go to sleep, you must be tired, baby.” You say.

He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your neck. Her perfume invading your bed, his erection pressed against you. “How about we have some fun first, hm?”

 You don’t know what makes you feel sicker. “I’m really tired, sorry.” You say, being too disgusted to even feel horny.

“Fine.” His voice got cold and he rolled away from you, refusing to touch you. Fine.

Your mind was racing, trying to make up a good excuse for him, it was trying to diffuse the situation. Surely there must be a logical explanation? He had fallen asleep next to you, you were wondering how he even could sleep at night. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he.. Maybe he.. But your mind couldn’t come up with a good reason, it was way to easy to connect the dots. But you needed to know for sure.

You saw the screen of his phone light up. Bingo.

Careful to not wake him, you got up from bed, slowly taking his phone from the nightstand, trying to not make a sound. You snuck his phone into the bathroom, you tried to unlock it, his passcode was your birthday for ages. Access denied. You frown, maybe you made a mistake typing it. You try again, this time even more careful. Access denied.        

Fuck.

You decided to type his own birthday, maybe he just happened to change it? It worked. As you scrolled through the messages you couldn’t really find anything. Soap sending him some memes. Captain Price reacting with two thumbs on everything Ghost send him. Gaz sending him pictures of food. Even their group chat was innocent.

You scrolled through everything. Until you found a hidden folder with pictures. Your eyes widened by the view. The pictures started looking innocent. Just some nudes, nothing too special. You could live with this.

Then they became more graphic. She was sitting on her knees, her tongue stuck out, semen on her face. You guess whose it was. You swiped again. It was her again, lying on a bed, looking at the camera with her hungry eyes.

A video. Against your better judgement you click on it. Your heart drops when you do so. He was fucking her like there was no tomorrow. She was on all fours, her face down, her ass up. You could tell by his pace that he was about to cum.

She helped it put it in again when it slipped out of her. It made you sick to your stomach. Yet you can’t stop watching. You’re torturing yourself. You can see his thick semen being shot on her back. You could imagine him grunting while he did so. You watch it again, pressing the volume button once. The sounds made you sick to your stomach, but your eyes were glued to the screen. The grunting was as you imagined, they were dancing with her moans. His voice cracked when he called her beautiful and you could feel your heart shatter.

A large hand slaps the phone out of your hand. “Do you always snoop through phones that aren’t yours?” A deep voice growled.

“Simon, what the fuck is this?” You ask. “What the FUCK is this?’ You yell at him.

“Oh come on, it’s nothing big.” He answered. “I’ve always been there for you!” You start to raise your voice again. “With every mission, good or bad. I have ALWAYS been by your side.”

His hand grabs your wrist. “Are you going to fucking behave?” He hisses in your ear. “Quit being a fucking drama queen.”

“Why? How could you?” Your voice sound defeated. He laughs at you. “Oh come on. You became boring. I can tell how you react at everything. It’s no longer exciting or new anymore.” He scoffs. He takes a step towards you. “Did you really think I loved you? Jezus Christ, you’re so fucking naïve.”

His words cut through you like knifes. Part of you wanted to change for him, be a more exciting person, anything so he wouldn’t leave you. But you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no coming back from this.

“I need you to get the fuck out of here.” You hissed. “Go sleep at Price or something.”

It was his laugh that sent the shivers down your spine. “I have to get out of here? Do I need to remind you this is my house? Take the few fucking things you own and get out before I kick you out.”

With tears in your eyes you grabbed your bag. You stuffed it with some clothes, your phone, your laptop and your wallet. He is right behind you when you walked out. Not saying a word to you. When you turned around to beg him to let you stay, his cold eyes told you enough. He slammed the door in your face. Leaving you all alone.

Ghost POV:

Of course I didn’t want it to end like this. She was always the safe option, but at least something was better than nothing.

I grab my phone, calling the girl I had been fucking for the past few months. A frustrated grunt leaves my throat when she doesn’t pick up. So I call again, and again until she finally picks up.

“What the fuck do you want?” She hisses at me. “It’s fucking 4 in the morning.” I let out an amused chuckle. I loved it when she was so feisty. “My girlfriend is gone for the night, and I don’t expect her home until noon. Care to come around?” I asked her. It’s quiet at the other side of the line and it is making me feel rejected. I hate that fucking feeling. “Well?” I ask, trying to hide the annoyance in my tone.

“You have a girlfriend?” The woman on the other side hissed. “You’re such a fucking pathetic man.”

I was taken aback by her reaction, where did she get the nerve to trat me like this? After all, she was nothing more than my toy. A toy I used to pass the time, but she didn’t let me answer her, her angry rant going on. “You’re a horrible, horrible man, if I had known you had a girl waiting for you, I would’ve never let you touch me.” She continued. “Lose the number, you fucking asshole.”

She hung up on me. The fucking bitch had the audacity to hang up on me? I scoffed. I didn’t need a stupid fucking toy anyway. I had you to come back to. After all, you always came back to me, no matter how much I fucked up.

I sat down on the couch, my fingers lingering over the screen of my phone. Fuck it.

“When are you coming home?” I texted you.

5 minutes. Five whole minutes had passed and you still didn’t text me back. Usually you’d text me back within seconds, like a fucking needy dog.

“Listen, I’m sorry you feel this way. I can change. I promise” I texted you again.

8 minutes. It had been eight minutes since my first text, and you didn’t hadn’t sent me anything back. It caused me to pace around my living room like a caged animal.

“Please come home, I miss you.” I texted, once more. It started to irritate me that you didn’t answer, but I couldn’t let you know.

14 minutes. The anger was getting to me. What the fuck were you doing? It was 4:28AM. You couldn’t possibly be doing something useful.

“Get your fucking ass home.”

???? POV:

He had known Ghost was a cheater, but he always tried to ignore it. Until he met you. God, you were gorgeous. It pained him that you only had eyes for Ghost. He fell in love with you the first time he met you. The way you walked, talked, your smile. Your beauty was out of this world.

But of course you were in love with Ghost. Ghost was everything he wasn’t. Mysterious, handsome, tall, confident, a deep, hoarse voice. So he hid in the shadows. He wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

But the guilt began to eat at him when Ghost started cheating on you, bringing some blondie back to the base after a mission. Her loud moans filling the empty halls. He couldn’t ignore it anymore after Ghost had brought back the second girl, but he was to afraid to tell you. It took him two more years to finally find the courage to tell you. He couldn’t even do it face to face. No, he texted you, like a coward.

But he had finally told you and that is what mattered.

He started to hate Ghost for this. The idiot had the most precious woman in the world and he tossed it out of the window for a little thrill.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw your text. You’d gone through his phone, and now he had kicked you out?

Damn.

A feeling of guilt washed over him, if he hadn’t told you, you’d be safe and sound in your bed, not wandering the streets at 4 in the morning.

He texted you his address, offering you a place to come to if you were lonely.

Your POV:

You felt alone. So god damn alone. You’d left everything, everyone behind to move in with Simon.

There was nothing you wanted more than to get back to Simon, to feels his strong arms around you again, but you weren’t stupid. You knew those arms would never feel like home again. You knew you’d never trust him again. The common sense in your body told you, you were worth too much to worry about him, but the love you felt for him tried to prove your common sense wrong, still. You could change for him, right? You could try to be less boring, to be less predictable.

A nearby bench in the park became your new place to stay, just so you could gather your thoughts. The bag you’d been carrying with you got dropped on the ground. A big sigh followed. How does one even go from here? Back to Simon was not an option, you refused to be his second choice.

Your phone buzzed. It was Simon, asking you when you would come home. Your heart skipped a beat. He still cared about you. Of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t be texting you! You’re trying to convince yourself, but it’s not working. Something is different. For once, your love ending didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

You fidget with your phone, ignoring the messages that come rolling in. You pressed the phone against your lips, your mind working overtime. What was it that you wanted?

After what seemed like forever you make a decision. You don’t want to be alone, not right now, so you decide to text him. Not Simon, no, he wasn’t worthy of your presence. You text the person who tipped you, after all, he had always told you he would be there for you if you needed him. It takes every ounce of your selfcontrol to not text him the whole story, so you give him a short update. 3,5 minutes. That’s how long it took for him to answer you. It’s just his address, and you take it as an invite that you’re welcome. As you open the navigation on your phone, it shows you that it is just a ten minute walk. Perfect for you to clear your head, so you wouldn’t be all in your feelings when you got to him.

It's 5:25 AM and the sun is starting to rise again. For a moment the world doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Your hands shake as you ring the doorbell. The door swings open almost immediately.

Johnny.

Ghost POV:

I was starting to lose it. You’d come online, but you didn’t read my texts? How dare you? Where the fuck do you think you have the audacity from to ignore me?

I texted you again.

“At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

An uneasy feeling starts to linger in my stomach, causing me to pace around the living room. What if you really did decide to leave this time? No, you wouldn’t. I was sure of that. But then why didn’t you answer me?

No it shouldn’t bother me this much. I can just go to the bar and pick up a better version of you, a prettier one, a more adventurous one. Then you did the thought of you leaving me sting so much?

I lose my temper, and an empty teacup flings across the room, against the wall. The brown liquid dripping down.

A few deep breaths and I should be okay again. Wrong.

The uneasy feeling in my chest stays and there is nothing that I can do against it. Why would you do this to me? Why did you have to make things so hard? Why couldn’t you just come home when I asked you to?

God, you’re being a pain in my ass right now. Making such a fuss, and for what? Because I had a little fun? That was your fault really, you had always been a little boring, why couldn’t you just be a little spicier in life.

And now your behaviour is making me feel bad? I don’t think so. I sent you a final text.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Soap POV:

He was waiting in the living room for her, nearly falling over his own feet as he made his way to the front door. The sight of you standing there, with your broken heart is the hardest thing he had to watch.

‘Even in her agony, God is jealous of her beauty.’ Soap pushed that thought away, he wasn’t here to hit on you, he was here to be the friend you needed. He stepped aside to let you in. “It’s not much, but it’s safe.” He said, gesturing around his living room. It was clear a single man lived here, the pizza box from last night still on the table, his dirty socks and shoes next to the couch. A sheepish smile on his face, hoping that you wouldn’t judge him too much.

He was mesmerized by your eyes, but he could see the sadness, the hurt in them, and it made his heart ache.

He signalled for you to sit on the couch, handing you a beer, his own in his hand, as he took place in his recliner, wanting to keep a distance. There was a silence between the two of you, but to him it didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt like coming safe home after a long, stressful day.

He glanced over at you. You looked so fragile on his couch, a large pillow being used as a shield, as your gaze met his. A nervous smile.

Your phone buzzed, and he could see it was from Ghost, his eyes narrowing as he read the text. “At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

But you were strong and you didn’t pay any mind to his text, you tossed the phone next to you and met his gaze once more.

Then the words started to pour out, and you told him everything. How you couldn’t believe it at first, how you finally started to connect the dots. How Ghost dared to come home smelling like another woman, the video you had watched. He took an occasional sip from his beer every now and then.

With every full sentence he could see your mind working overtime, telling you to not go back to that relationship anymore. It made his heart beat faster in his chest.

As if it’s natural the conversation shifts to a lighter one, as if you want to leave Ghost and the darkness that he brings with him in the past, and Soap was happy to oblige.

You tell him about your job, your hobbies, your favourite crystals and he takes in all the information as if it is the most important thing he has ever heard.

Your phone buzzed again and the both of you look at it at the same time.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Those words made Soap’s stomach drop, he had always known that Ghost had a temper, a bad one, but even this felt low for Ghost. He looked over at you, expecting to see fear in your face, but instead you just laughed. As if you were freed from the chackles Ghost had put on you.

“Shit.” Your voice sounded like giggle. “I should really put him in his place for speaking to me in this tone.”

‘God, her laugh could light up a room without trying.’

No stop, he shouldn’t think like that.

Maybe it was the beer talking, maybe it was the lack of common sense from the whole situation, but he had an idea. An idea that would put Ghost in his place.

“Come with me.” Soap told you, as he made him way to his bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy compared to his living room. Sure, the bed wasn’t made, and his backpack was casually tossed into the corner, and now that he looked around, his nightstand were a mess too. But the dirty socks were limited to the bathroom only and that was something.

“I need you to trust me, I’m not a pervert, I promise.” Soap was rambling, a treat he had when he got nervous. He swallowed some air before he started explaining. “I need you to get on my bed on all fours, I promise I won’t look okay.” The rambling continued.

You didn’t even question it, you just did what he asked you to do. He took a step closer to your ass, his breathing getting hard to control. “Look at the wall.” He muttered. The shadow being rather, suggestive.

‘Life was an artist and you were the fucking masterpiece.’

He couldn’t help but look down at you, the sight of you presenting yourself like this, God it got him hard, the blood going straight to his growing erection. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, he had to contain himself.

You handed him your phone, allowing him to take a picture. If he didn’t know any better the shadow suggested he was actually fucking you. The thought of how tight you would be, how good you would take it, it was flooding his mind. Shit shit shit. He needed to stop.

He handed you your phone back, stepping aside, it would drive him insane if he kept looking at your ass.

Soap looked over your shoulder as you sent Ghost the picture. A grin on your face when you started to type.

‘Sorry, I was busy.’

Ghost POV:

It has been more than a fucking hour since I’ve sent my last text, and yet you lack the fucking respect to answer me. You’re a fucking worthless waste of air.

I look over at the table when my phone buzzed. “Sorry, I was busy?” I repeat your text to myself. My fingers are quick to open the picture you sent me.

My phone buzzed. A text from you.

No, no, no, no, NO.

I could feel my stomach drop from that picture. You’re a fucking disgusting slut and you know it. How the fuck dare you? After all we’ve been together you’re throwing us away like this? How fucking dare you?

My anger gets the best of me. I want you to be hurt. I want to take away the things you like. I want to see you cry, beg me for the mercy you don’t deserve.

In a blind rage I pull out the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, I was looking for some scissors but couldn’t find them, so I took our kitchen knife. The fucking stuffed animal I had won for you at the fair was the first to go. God it felt so good to take my anger out on something. Besides, who the fuck has a stuffed unicorn?

The rest of your clothes became my second target, a maniacal laugh leaving my throat as I could hear the fabric rip under the force of my knife. Shit it felt good, too good even. For a second I would imagine you there instead of your clothes and the rage would leave my body, but it’s temporary, I want to destroy you.

If I can’t have you, no one should have you.

My hands tremble when I look at the picture again. My eyes widen when I recognize the room, I recognize his fucking backpack, the idiotic sunglasses on his fucking nightstand.

God fucking damn.

My best fucking friend. The fucking son of a bitch.

Where the fuck did the two of you get the fucking nerve to betray me like this?

Granted, Soap had been more distance towards me since I’ve started to cheat on you, but he never had a problem with it during my last relationship. This must’ve been his idea. Letting you catch me cheating, so I’m the bad guy, while you’re getting your pussy pounded by that fucking traitor.

I’m angry, furious even. Part of me wants to take the knife and stab the both of you, watching as the life leaves your eyes. I can feel the rage boil inside of me.

A sudden wave of relief washes over me. I know what I have to do.

I leave the knife in our matrass, I don’t even grab my jacket. I know the way to his house, it’s a short walk and I know what I’ll find when I get there. You all loveydovey in his arms, as the goddamn slut that you are.

The walk there pisses me off even more, it gives me the time to think about you, about that fucking traitor of a man I used to call a friend.

My fists bang on the door. “Soap! I know you’re in there with this filthy whore.” My voice is a mere bark.

“Be a fucking man and face me.”

Your POV:

You had nearly forgotten about Simon. Not really obviously, you knew you still had to face him one day. Half of your belongings were still at that house. But for now, for now you could forget him. Soap’s bedroom was filled with laughter, you had more in common than you thought, memories, hobbies, even the same dishes you liked.

Although he liked olives, and the mere thought of them was enough to make you shudder.

Soap was in the middle of a story about Captain Price, something about his hidden porn stash when three loud bangs made the both of you quiet. It was unmistaken who’s voice it was. It felt as if a hand had reached out to your throat, squeezing it shit. Your eyes pleaded to Soap, begging him to stay in his bedroom with you. Surely Simon would leave, right? Right?

The banging got louder, more violent, his profanities carrying out over the street. All you wanted was for the ground to break open and swallow you whole.

“I have to face him.”

“What? No Johnny that’s ridiculous.”

“He won’t leave, I can just explain what happened. I’ll tell him you don’t want to see him.”

“But he sounds dangerous.”

“I’ve known him for years, lass. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach, the horrible feeling as if something was bound to happen, Soap had closed the door behind him, as if he wanted to shield you from what was about to happen. You hid away in the corner, your knees brought up to your chest, as if you wanted to make yourself as tiny as possible.

You could hear the door open. Soap’s voice was the first to be heard. “Hey man, I know this looks ba-“ His sentence got cut short.

Something was happening, but you couldn’t make out what it was. The closed door muffled the sounds to much.

Yet the sounds of a person falling was clear to you. A man begging another man to stop, the faint sound of fists hitting their target.

Your bag.

It was still on the couch, you knew it was there, all you could do was to pray that Simon didn’t find it.

Your mind was racing, where had you put your phone? You knew it was in this room, somewhere, you had used it to text him that picture.

Oh god, why did you do that?

This was all happening because you just had to be petty. Johnny was getting murdered and you were having a pity party. Selfish bitch.

You had to find that fucking phone. Call someone. Call the police even.

But you were too scared. Afraid that if you were to move, Simon would hear you and come for you.

The sounds of footsteps on the stairs snapped you out of it. You wanted it to be Soap, you really did, but you knew it was Simon. “I know you’re in there you fucking filthy slut!”

You pressed yourself against the wall, hoping that you could blend in, maybe disappear while you’re at it.

The bedroom door swings open, and the man before you is no longer the man you once loved. His eyes are wide, his nostrils flared, a predator looking at his prey.

You can hear the soft groans coming from downstairs. You want to escape, you want to leave, but your body betrays you.

“Simon, I, I, I.” You start to stutter. His hands grab a handful of hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“You really thought you were smart, huh?” He hisses through his gritted teeth. He lets go of your hair, and for a second you think you can breathe. That was a mistake.

His right fist hits you, then his left, right, left, right, left, right. Until you start to lose count.

You hold up your arms to defend yourself, but it’s useless. He is trained to do this, and you’re his target.  

You start to beg him, beg him for your life, but you can tell he is enjoying this, your tears, the fear in your eyes, it is nothing but fuel to his anger.

His hands grab your hair again, dragging you towards the bed. You’re too stunned, too terrified to even react.

The sound of his zipper going down makes your eye widen in fear. “I’ll show you who the fuck you belong to.” He hisses at you.

It is Soap who stumbles into the room that make the both of you look up. God. He looks horrible, he looks as if he was dragged through hell and back. The pain is visible in his eyes, the blood on his face, the red marks on his body.

A broken promise.

Ghost let’s out an annoyed grunt. “I’ll take care of our little problem.” He whispers into your ear. His voice, the tone, the words, it sends shivers down your spine. The sound of his zipper going back up is a blessing and a curse.

You’re safe, for now.

You can only watch in horror when you can see Ghost make his way over to Soap. You want to react. Your mind is screaming at you to do something. But your body can’t.

It seemed as if time was slowing down. The sunset slowing illuminating the room you’re in. The tension in the thick air. It looks like a horrible nightmare, one you wish to wake up from.

You’re held captive by your own body and mind. No control over what you’re thinking or doing, it makes you feel helpless.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths. Snap out of that freeze response, no more freezing. You need to fight or you need to get out. Go. Go. Go.

Your body handles on it’s own, despite the pain you’re in, you manage to get up, stumbling over your own feet.

Get out or fight.

It’s the gunshot that follows next, that puts you into freeze again.

Your POV:

Ghost looked at his hands, he was visibly confused by the blood on them. His blood?

Your hands are shaking, your mind goes back to a date you and Ghost went on 2,5 years ago.

It was a sunny day, and he was so excited to take you there. He had been talking about it for a few weeks and you finally decided to give in.

Who would have thought a silly little date to a shooting range would save your life one day?

Not you, not Ghost.

You had spotted the gun in Soap’s backpack, the will to survive took over, your body snapping out of your freeze mode before your mind was able to.

“That’s a good lass.” A Scottish accent broke the silence.

Ghost dropped to his knees, his hands pressing on the gunshot wound. So much was happening at once, yet you tried to take control over the situation once again. Your hands tremble as you load another bullet into the chamber.

“Stay down or I’ll fucking shoot again.” Oh how you try to be confident, but the words are a mere whisper as the tears start to roll down your cheek. You try not to choke on your shallow breaths.

The tension in the air is horrible. You can tell Soap is holding on for dear life, not knowing how to continue. You can tell that Ghost is defeated, as if the shot held a mirror in front of him, he was no better than his father and he knew it.

And you, standing there. Holding on to that pistol for dear life, your knuckles white from the tight grip.

A few loud bangs, a loud voice, a small army of police men joining you in the room, the rest of the day a blur.

You didn’t exactly look innocent, holding a loaded weapon, pointing it to an already wounded man.

And God, for the first time you felt lucky. You could show the texts he had sent you, the way he had torn up the place you used to call home, you had only shot him once, and it was a non-lethal shot.. It all ruled in your favour, the judges ruled it self-defence.

Ghost on the other hand didn’t get as lucky, all the evidence pointed in his direction, even after you’d shot him.

Although the sentence he got was a joke.

Sixty days.

He would spent two months in jail for traumatizing you, for harming you, for destroying what belonged to you, for harming Soap, for making your home feel unsafe.

Just sixty days.

But, for sixty whole days you felt safe. You knew he wouldn’t be lurking around the corner, you knew that for sixty whole days you could breathe again.

Ghost POV:

I lost it all. And for what? For a little toy, for a little smile, for a little weak moment. Sixty goddamn days of my life.

It wasn’t even worth it. It made me lose the job I worked so hard for. Price didn’t want to hear shit after I got my sentence. I tried to explain how it wasn’t really my fault. After all, you and Soap had planned this. No matter how innocent you tried to act in court. I knew what had happened.

I really tried to live with my anger. I had to go to therapy, but that was a waste of my fucking time. I have one little outburst and all of the sudden I am the problem?

I had to sell the house, because of you. Everything reminded me of you, at night I thought I saw you stand in the doorway, I swear I could hear your footsteps, your laugh, your voice. But you were never there. It haunted me, you know that? So I sold it, bought another house. Tried to forget about you. The money I had made during my time in the military, it lasted me a long time. I didn’t have to work, no I could drown my sorrows in liquor and hookers. The funny thing was, money doesn’t last, just like we didn’t.

And I really tried. I tried to get new jobs, but they would never last. God, people are morons and I just cannot deal with them. Do you know how hard it is to keep your house when you’re not able to keep a goddamn job? And furthermore, do you know how hard it is to keep a relationship when you’re not able to hold a job, when the bills are stacking up?

God, and even if I could hold a job, I’m not able to keep a relationship, I keep searching for a piece of you. Even when they’re a perfect match, they’re still not you.

I hate myself for letting you go, I crave how predictable you were, I crave your touch, your voice, you.

Yet at the same time, I am so angry at you for taking everything from me. I deserve better than this. You took everything I worked so hard for.

The anger is tucked away, for now. It reappears whenever I hit the bottle. Everything I’ve been holding in comes out then. It’s not a pretty sight when I get my shit together again, it makes me feel ashamed.

Your little action has made me unable to look into the mirror. I see my fathers eyes whenever my eyes linger to long on the man I see in the mirror. I became what I hated the most and I can only blame you for it.

I even tried to make up with the last woman, the one you found the video of. I went to her house, tried to explain myself. I even apologised for calling her my toy. She had the audacity to laugh at me. She told me to fuck right off. Hell, she even pulled her girlfriend to her side when I asked for a second chance. It left me broken. Not even my back up wanted me anymore.

Lately I’ve been wandering the streets, as a soul without a purpose. I avoid the large windows, I cannot stand to see my reflection in them, the shell of the man I was supposed to be. I had such a good life ahead of me, but it was all ruined. My days are filled with sorrow and time is slipping through my fingers.

It is a good day, a beautiful day, so I decide to go to the park, maybe it would ease my mind, before I would go home and get drunk again. I wander around in the park, aimlessly, the sun on my skin is a nice feeling, it beats the feeling of feeling sorry for myself.

My heart skips a beat when I see you. You’re standing close to the water, and I can’t tell what you’re saying to the man in front of you, but you look happy. The clothes you’re wearing fit your body perfectly, and truth be told, you look better than you’ve ever looked before.

God I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much. I start to make my way over to you, I want to talk to you, maybe there is a new chance for us to be together. The guy you’re with can suck it, I can show you what you deserve.

My blood runs cold when I see the man in front of you go down on one knee.

No.

Your POV:

You never stepped foot into that house again, you tried, but the tea stained wall was enough for you to back down. All your belongings you had left behind were things you could replace.

But that wasn’t your biggest worry. Soap had risked his life for you, and for what? Because you needed to prove a point to Simon? You felt so, so, so goddamn guilty. Luckly for the both of you, Soap ‘only’ had two broken ribs, a black eye and a few other bruises. You both knew it could have ended different.

Soap was a kind soul, and you knew it. He offered you a place to stay when you couldn’t go back to the place you once called home. He insisted on taking the couch, even with his injuries. He insisted that you were the one who deserved to sleep in his bed after everything you had been through.

In return you made him breakfast every day. The man was a sucker for fresh pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, maple syrup. All of them together, or just one of those things. It didn’t matter to him, as long as it was something you had cooked, this man was content.

What started as just breakfast, quickly became dinner too, lunch followed shortly  after. Although Soap slept on the couch, he wouldn’t hesitate to come running up the stairs when he could hear you having a nightmare, eventually you’d start having flashbacks of that morning. The events repeating themselves in your mind time after time, leaving you frozen in place.

Soap was there for you, no questions asked. He was on medical leave anyway, and he wanted to care for you, protect you. He would always be there when the nightmares or flashbacks started. Holding you, grounding you, bringing you back into reality every time.

After one particular flashback the two of you stayed on the couch, even though it was late at night. You didn’t dare to go to sleep, worried that the nightmares would keep you up again, and Soap wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

The next thing you knew was that you woke up with him in your arms. His head resting on your shoulder as you held him tight. The best part of it all? It never felt awkward. When he finally woke up he had a boyish grin on his face.

“Best night of sleep I’ve had in a while.” He told you, before he gave you some space again. “How about I make you some pancakes this time?”

You had always thought that Ghost made you feel at home, but Soap.. Holy shit, Soap was something else. When the night fell that day and it was time to go to bed you held your hand out to him, he didn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. Not if it was up to you anyway.

You could tell he was hesitant to take your hand. “I want you to, no, I need you to know you don’t have to do this to pay me back in any way, shape or form.” He began. You shushed him. This wasn’t about paying him back, this was about the feeling that had began to grow inside your heart.

He responded with a simple kiss on your nose. A token of appreciation.

It was the start of something beautiful, Soap was so much kinder than Ghost had ever been to you. Because it was Soap who woke you up with a thousand and one kisses on every inch of skin he could get his hands on, it was Soap who made sure you were always comfortable, no matter where you were or what you were doing. It was Soap who made sure you would at least get a text every day when he was on a mission, it was Soap who hid little love notes around the house when he was away.

Soap brought you stones from the missions he had been on, always proudly telling you how he picked the prettiest rocks, just for you. Even when he was away on missions, he always made sure you never, ever felt lonely.

He had just come home after he went to a little bakery to get you both breakfast, so you could sleep in.

“I saw some ducklings in the park when I walked back.” He told you, before he took a bite of his croissant.

“Really?” Your voice is filled with excitement. “Can we check them out after breakfast?”

“Only if I get a kiss first.”

“Deal!”

“Ah shoot, I should’ve asked for more.” The Scot pouted while he stole your last piece of pastry.

“Hey! That was mine.”

“Sorry lass, boyfriend tax.” He grinned as he swallowed the stolen bite.

“Now.” A devilish grin formed on his lips. “You still owe me a kiss.”

A laugh escapes your lips before he kisses you, his strong arms wrapped around you, as your hands rest on his waist. “That was worth all the ducklings in the world.” He whispers to you as he presses a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Come little lass, before those ducklings are fully grown ducks.”

He doesn’t let go off your hand for the whole walk to the park, the two of you walk in silence, and it’s nice. His presence is enough for you, and you are enough for him.

You look around the little pond to see a glimpse of the promised ducklings, but they are nowhere to be seen. You have your back turned to him, as your eyes scan the area.

“They’re gone.” Your voice sounds disappointed. “Well damn it, I want that kiss back Jo-“ Your breath hitches in your throat when you turn around to face him.

There he is, on one knee in front of you, a little black box in his hand.

“Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

[thecuriousquest]

B2 & Hawks

-🧼

The Scent of Another Man

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @palesweetscherryblossom @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, non con briefly mentioned, isolation punishment mentioned, spanking threat, nudity, sexual punishment?, possessive tendencies, controlling tendencies, aggressive behavior, abusive behavior, threatening harm upon Reader, hair pulling, breast slapping, marking Reader, Stockholm Syndrome

Request: “We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent no one will dare touch you again.”

Master List

Yandere Alphabet Prompt

—————————————————————————

Keigo Takami is known for many things. He’s the No. 2 pro hero of Japan, he’s a charming guy, he’s rich as hell, and he started his own agency at such a young age. Those are just a few off of the long, long list.

You know Keigo for something that nobody would ever even consider. He’s fucking territorial. This man somehow always knows when you’ve been around another guy. It’s like he can sniff it out. You could just brush your arm up against the opposite gender on a bus, and when you come home, Keigo will be all over your ass, interrogating you about why you smell like another guy.

Ever since you blossomed into a more willing partner, one who shows him incredibly genuine love and devotion, he has allowed you to go outside under certain conditions. One, you must always have your phone and location turned on. Two, if Keigo calls, you must always answer. Three, you’re only allowed out until five o’clock pm. Four, you are to tell Keigo where you’re going and who you’re going with. If he doesn’t approve of those two things, you aren’t going at all. Five, you are to contact Keigo and only Keigo if something bad happens.

On the train, your phone died, and you happened to have been seated between two males with pretty heavy body odor. That’s what leads you here as Keigo grabs you by your hair and berates you in the kitchen, threatening to press your cheek against the hot griddle of the stove.

“Am I not enough for you? After all I’ve done to protect you, to give you a lavish life?! You’re going to throw all of that back in my face?”

You know what will happen if you don’t answer him properly. Sniffling from the threatening heat against your face, you groan and cry out with a heaving chest, “Keigo, I’m sorry! You’re enough. You know you are! I love you, I can’t live without you. Please, Keigo!”

You can’t hold onto him with the angle you’re bent at over the stove. The only thing you can grab is the handle to the oven, so you clutch it desperately, knuckles turning white from the harsh grip.

“KEIGO!”

You feel like you’re about to vomit as he presses your face just a bit closer, but it’s all too close at the same time. You’re a short hair away from him marring your face.

“What do I have to do to make you get it through your pea sized brain that you’re mine? You’re my girl!”

“I am your girl! Keigo, I didn’t do anything. Please? Please, let me go?!”

Your tears fall onto the griddle, splashing and sizzling as it begins to evaporate. The steam hits your eye, and it only causes more to surface upon your lashes.

He pulls you up and turns off the knob, ending the torturous heat to the stove. Keigo grabs you by your jaw with an iron clasp so tight you’re sure he’ll leave finger print sized bruises. The dew drops lingering on your eyes rolls down over his hand, and he smirks at you, licking the salty droplets.

Your boyfriend’s lips are so close to yours. You can’t turn your head away from him, and with your back to the oven, you have nowhere to go. It must be a natural instinct to him to trap you like this, giving you zero options of a way out. By now, you can’t even tell if this was something he did on purpose or if it’s just so ingrained in his psyche that it’s intrinsic to him.

Snuffling like a kid with ugly sobs, you clutch his jacket.

“Please, Keigo, please, believe me! You have to believe I’d never do anything like that to you. I’d never go against you like that! I love you so much, Keigo, please?!”

You feel as though your knees might buckle with how little energy you have left.

His grin widens seeing you beg for him. It’s the music of a seraph choir to his ears with a harp in accompaniment. Fucking beautiful.

“What are we gonna do with you, songbird? Am I gonna have to bend you over my knee? Lock you up for a day or two?” He tilts his head as he teases you.

You don’t realize he’s mocking you though, so you cry even harder and plead, “No, please, Keigo. I’ll be good!” Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and there’s no way you could keep standing if it weren’t for the grip Keigo has on your jaw.

The pro hero tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, taking his time to answer you, letting the tension weigh in the air for his amusement and your torture.

“I know what I’ll do. I’m going to come inside of you and on you until we get rid of the smell of other men. We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent that no one will dare touch you.”

It’s not the worst option, but your lip still wobbles at the thought. Obediently, you nod your head. You don’t fight Keigo as he puts you over his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom, clutching his jacket for balance.

You have to remind yourself that he does this because he loves you, because it’s what’s best for you, so you sigh as he strips your body down to bare skin before doing the same to his own. His hero costume lays on the floor next to a pile of your own clothes, and he crawls on top of you, pinning your arms down. Keigo kisses, nips, and sucks on your neck, leaving all types of marks as he slots his hard length between the plush of your thighs and presses himself inside of you.

He manipulates your knees, pushing them up to your chest. It’s a comfortable position for him that you’ve come to find out.

You remember in the beginning how you used to fight him so much, how he used to have to hold you down or even force you on your stomach to make things easier. All of that changed when he delivered the very first severe punishment which you later found out lasted two months. You remember how he locked you up, gave you little food and water to survive off of, took away every single comfort he afforded you since you moved in, and paid very little attention to you.

Now, Keigo is the light of your life, and when you make him mad, you need to be punished. Being disciplined makes you feel better, and that’s all he’s doing. He’s in the process of forgiving you. His forgiveness is all you want.

So as he pushes deeper and deeper inside of you, you whisper and moan how sorry you are, how you’ll be better, do better. You try to reassure him with every desperate thrust inside of you that your body is his body, and he can do with it as he pleases.

You just want him to be happy with you.

Pearlescent rain drizzles from your glossy orbs, soaking your red cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping and praying that you’re pleasing Keigo. He doesn’t stop short of groping your tits, ass, and thighs. He marks you up with bruises, navy and indigo. He smacks your panting breasts, painting them the brightest red found within a sunset.

But you deserve it. If this is what it takes to regain his favor, you’ll put yourself through it all.

Keigo fulfills his promise of coating your insides, as well as your body, with come. He makes sure you’re dripping with the slick ropes of his seed. He sniffs you, just to test it out. His lips curl into a dark grin, golden eyes taking on a brownish hue as he tilts his head until you see nothing but shadows surrounding his eyes.

“Good, can’t smell any other fucker on you now.”

Coated in sweat and multiple orgasms, Keigo settles down behind you on the bed and pulls you into his chest.

Your pussy throbs from when he milked your sweet cunt down to the very last drop. Your walls are sore, they feel like they have been thrashed with how much they burn. You’ve been rubbed raw, both edged and overstimulated by the hero right behind you. You can’t help but shudder from his hands as he moves you closer to him. You want to cry out, but you shove that want down deep. You don’t dare vocalize the pain you’re in.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” You ask tentatively, too weary to look over your shoulder to gauge Keigo’s emotions.

He nuzzles your ear with his nose and moans a soft sigh. “You’re good now. Love you.” He places a lingering kiss on the crown of your head.

“I love you too, Keigo.”