blog of sunshine

writing masterlist • ao3 • kofi

tags & content: established relationship, superficial injuries, kissing, making out, fluff, very minor nsfw mentions, gn reader

“There,” you beam, the corners of your eyes crinkling with a childish sort of joy as you finish smoothing the edges of the plaster over his nose. “All done.”

Jason’s eyes track you momentarily as you pull back, fingers tentatively tapping his nose to test the little plaster. Satisfied, he lets out an exhausted sigh, one you seem to feel in your own bones.

You don’t like seeing him like this; all bruised and battered after a long night with criminals, but you always looked forward to patching him up afterwards.

It was a strange, conflicting feeling.

You know if he was truly hurt, he would be with Leslie, or treating the wounds himself. These, you knew, were just superficial, easy for your inexperienced, lithe fingers to prod and poke without causing any major injuries.

Plus, looking at the plaster littered with ridiculous, cartoonish bears, you can’t help but let out a little giggle.

Jason immediately cracks one eye open, tilting his head towards you with a feigned look of irritation.

“What?” He grumbles. You know he’s tired, probably looking to catch some shut eye as soon as possible, but you can’t help yourself.

You lean your shoulder against the back of the sofa, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to hide your smile.

“Nothing,” you sing. Jason’s eyes pin you like a bug to a board for a few more seconds, letting out a huff of indignant air. He leans forward to the coffee table, despite the bruising on his ribs, reaching for his phone. The screen is spider-webbed with cracks, but it still works.

“Babe, what did you do—”

“Nothing!” You squeal, launching forward to pinch his wrists. You tug playfully, trying to get him to abandon the pursuit of his phone. “Really, it’s nothing—”

“Is my nose crooked?” He breathes, his lip quirking into a subtle little smirk. He lets you win the fight for just a second, before reaching with his other hand for the target. You yelp, sprawling forward into his lap to try and pin his arms under you.

“Your nose is fine!”

Jason lets out a defeated huff, sliding his arms out from under you. One immediately clings to the soft curve of your waist, turning you so you’re dislodged a little further onto the sofa. You twist, your hands catching his broad shoulders as your back settles against the soft cushions.

You weakly giggle, letting your fingers slide against the nape of his neck, delving into the soft, black hair there.

Jason leans fully over you like this, taking the opportunity to muzzle into the curve of your neck. Your breath hitches as he trails lazy kisses up the muscle, to your jaw, your cheek, and then the corner of your mouth.

“Seriously...” You mutter, not wanting him to replace the cuddly little plaster. His mouth presses over yours for a second before letting you speak. “There’s nothing—” Another kiss. “—on your...” Another, this one broken by you with a slight nudge. “...nose.”

Jason lets out a noise of fake irritation. His voice is low, vibrating your bones just right. “Are you still talking?”

You feel his fingers settle under the hem of your shirt, against your side, the other brushing through the locks of your hair. He leans onto his elbow, allowing him to slowly seal his lips over yours once more.

This time, you two stay there, soaking in each others warmth.

He moves first, his lips coaxing your own open, until you’re kissing him back with just as much passion. You sigh deeply against his mouth, lifting your leg to trail it slowly against his side.

His teeth give your bottom lip an impatient tug, and you part your lips further so his tongue has the room to sweep in. It’s wet, the parting and meeting of your lips between little breaths the only sound filling the drab little apartment.

Jason is heavy and warm against you, pressing right up against the front of your body.

While you’d be more than happy for him to sink his fingers into you, or for you to get him off, you can tell by the gentle, little strokes of his thumb against your hip that he’s too tired for that. That this is okay, and this is enough.

Dreamily, you rest your hands over the expanse of his back, feeling the relaxed muscles there as he minutely shifts over you.

His lips peel from yours for just a second, before he presses a gentler one over yours. His eyes flutter open alongside yours just to take you in, before he kisses you quicky for a final time, and rolls onto his side next to you.

The couch isn’t big enough for both of you, but you make it work with some aggressive wriggling. He tucks his chin over your head with a tired sigh, anchoring you right against his chest.

“It’s the plaster, isn’t it?” Jason rumbles, making you duck your chin.

“Don’t take it off,” you plead, nuzzling your forehead against his chest. “You look so cute.”

He sighs in annoyance, but you know it’s just a show.

“Fine,” he mutters, kissing the top of your head. “Whatever.”

tags & content: NSFW, dub-con, suggested partial nudity, cigarette burns, name branding, physical assault, canon-typical violence, coyle being coyle, afab + reagent reader (i realised i misread a huge portion of the ask! so sorry anon!)

“Buckin’ like goddamn wild bronco—”

The sharp crack of Leland’s hand against your cheek tears a ragged, watery gasp from your lips. The stinging pain is almost enough to draw your attention away from the searing agony on your chest, but not quite. The pain across your collarbone throbs again, a cruel reminder that no matter what corner of your mind you attempt to retreat to, it will always drag you back. Your chin tightens in some pathetic attempt to stifle a sob.

“It hurts,” you croak, tears sliding down your temple. The pleasant, luke warm heat of them grounds you before they disappear into the dampness of your hairline. Even each inhale of air, puffing your chest, makes the tight, blistered skin burn. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Please, please, it hurts.”

Leland’s lip twists into a frustrated sneer, already losing patience with your whining. “Well, it ain’t gonna tickle, now is it, you stupid junkie?”

The bright orange end, tinged with crumbling ash, presses over your sensitive skin once more. With Leland straddling your hips, and one gloved hand pressed firmly against your shoulder, your thrashing is swiftly and meticulously contained. A wail weakly tears from your throat, thrashing your head from side to side with a sob.

“I can’t do it,” you stammer, bile rising in the back of your throat. “Stop—”

“Knew I shoulda made you chew the last one,” Leland grumbles in irritation under his breath, his eyes completely fixated on your singed, blistered skin like it’s going to prove to be a masterpiece in the end. “Burn your tongue good enough so you’d shut the fuck up.” He gives your shoulder a particularly hard push. “Stop squirming, bitch. Fuckin' up my concentration, and I ain’t never been the best at spelling.”

The irritation quickly dissolves, though never gone, when he flicks the final cigarette away, the hot tightness flaring across your chest. The leftover ash dusts over your swollen skin. You desperately crane your head away, tucking your chin down to your shoulder to stifle your sobs. He lets out a puff of sharp air, his lip twisting into a crooked sneer.

“Nothin’ like a bitch with my name across her tits,” Leland sneers. The lopsided sight of his name sprawled across your skin makes his hand reach down to harshly palm himself through his trousers, letting out a little whistle. “Be a damn shame if I didn’t get one to match.”

tags & content: NSFW, sexual content, secret relationship, consensual sex, hooking up in secret, semi-public sex, chris redfield is your captain, unprotected sex, fear of pregnancy but it’s lwk lighthearted, RE8 chris, female reader

“Did you come inside?” you breathlessly stammer, a dazed sheen blurring your vision for a moment before you blink it away. Chris’ hand, which had been firmly pinching the back of your neck, loosens just an inch.

His damp forehead props itself on your shoulder, uneven breath puffing against your skin through the fabric, before your words penetrate his own hazy fog.

Behind the closed door, there’s the shuffling of the rest of the team, faint laughter as they mill about the place. Wedged under the door handle is a chair, shoved there in the heat of the moment to prevent anybody from walking in on you.

Chris presses a finger to your mouth, his eyes flickering to the door. Footsteps vibrate through the floorboards, getting fainter and fainter until they’re completely gone. Only then does he peel back from your trembling body, easing his cock out of your soaked folds.

“Shit,” he murmurs, a sharp, clear whisper as the situation settles in the air. “Yeah, yeah. I did.”

The clinking of his belt follows, and the zipping of his trousers. Your back hurts from being wedged awkwardly against the wall, bending down with a wince to pull your panties up from around your knees. You know you don’t have the time or facilities to clean yourself, the thought of his come leaking out of you all day bringing a stark flush to your cheeks.

His jaw is feathered in the dark, the cramped supply closet allowing you to feel the growing tension vibrating from his limbs. The same limbs, thick and muscly, which had just fucked you hard enough to see stars.

“Captain,” you begin, “I—”

“No.” His voice is firm, the type of tone he uses when you’re on a mission. “No titles in here.”

“It’s fine,” you try to say, feeling your breath quicken. Your fingers fumble as you try to work the buttons and zipper of your tactical trousers, your eyes squinting through the dark in frustration for a moment. Chris drops his chin, leaning to help, but thinks better of it. His hand twitches, then drops.

You swallow, tilting your head back to look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s fine,” you repeat. “We’ve been careful every other time, surely the chances are low. Come on, please.”

You know why you’re pleading, but it makes you feel pathetic. What you and Chris have isn’t a relationship, but being stolen away during high stakes missions for a fuck with your own captain was something you’d found deliciously indulgent. The consequences of this problematic secret being discovered was part of the intensity.

All the times his large, warm hand would clamp over your mouth, muffling your squeals of pleasure so nobody knew you were taking your captain’s cock in secret like a good girl.

It had been hedonistically exhilarating.

But you knew Chris, though driven by desire, was burdened the most. After all, if things got out, it would be his reputation on the line to be dragged far worse through the mud.

“This stops,” Chris orders, and you can tell from the hard lines around his eyes that he’s serious. “Now. Shit, are you on birth control at least?”

You swallow, keeping your voice low so nobody quietly passing could hear. Your eyes flicker to the door, tightening with a hint of annoyance.

“No, you know I’m not on birth control, Chris, that’s why we agreed that you would pull out—”

“Christ,” he interrupts, pinching the crease in his forehead. His chest, even as broad as it was, inflates with irritation. The silence that settles around you is heavy, allowing the gravity of the situation to truly start to crush you. Your eyes widen a fraction, glancing at your boots.

“Shit,” you whisper.

“Shit,” Chris mutters.

“Shit.”

tags & content: NSFW, sexual content, vaguely CNC but not really, consensual sex, gentle sex, bondage/restraints, teasing, loss of virginity, size difference, virgin reader, female reader

“It hurts,” you whine, a last childish resort as the tip of his cock sinks an inch inside of you. His fingers envelop your thighs, pushed open and wide to make space for his hips. Flexibility isn’t your issue; it’s the fact that you can’t fight the untoward strength keeping you open, your hips wriggling weakly in an attempt to twist away.

He soaks up your feeble resistance with a soft little sigh, his cock abandoning its descent into your tight hole in favour of letting you calm down.

“This was your idea, wasn’t it, dear?” Victor mutters softly, letting go of one of your thighs to slide his cold hand up your side. His fingers trail up your ribs, thumb circling your peaked nipple and pressing down on it. Your freed leg clumsily turns in, knee bumping against his arm.

Tears well up in your eyes, shaking your head from side to side.

“You’re too big,” you gasp, your chin tightening to fight the trembles. “You’re going to break me.”

Victor chuckles at that, a barely audible puff of air that resembles more of a sigh. His lips curve into an amused smile, releasing your nipple just to slide his scarred hand along your twitching leg. The tips trail up your warm flesh, soaking it in, gently nudging it back to the side. His hand engulfs your delicate foot, thumb working gently into the arch by his shoulder.

“I assured you I would be very careful, did I not?” He murmurs, a condescending edge to his words that make you flush in embarrassment.

“Yes…” You mumble softly.

“So,” Gideon purrs, slowly bullying a second inch in your hole. You squeak, your head shaking weakly. “I had no intention of lying, dear.”

“No…” You whine, wrists twisting in the shackles keeping your arms above your head. Your fingers grasp for purchase against air, the unfamiliar sensation making unease, injected with a slither of anticipation, bubble up your throat. “I can’t…”

Gideon pauses for a millisecond, his head tilting in thought. His hand abandons your foot, fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt to catch a chain. On the end dangles a key, one he easily slots into a shackle on your left wrist. He shushes you, letting the chain drop so the key dangles precariously over your face. With your freed arm, your fingers catch his shoulder for purchase.

“Better, my dear?”

You don’t have a chance to answer, as he shallowly thrusts the first couple inches of his cock in your pussy. He fucks you like that, not too deep, not too rough, your lips parting with a strangled moan. Even though he freed one wrist for your comfort, you can’t help but clumsily reach for the rocking key. Gideon, just in time, leans back, your fingers scooping at air.

You whimper, arm outstretched to chase it, but he gently catches your wrist and offers you a mocking smile.

“Oh, dear,” he sighs. “I thought I had been kind enough. You don’t want me to really break you now, do you? For misbehaving?”

tags & content: NSFW, sexual content, dub-con, thigh fucking, no penetration, size difference, DSO reader, afab reader

“Who did you say you worked for again, dear?”

You both know he doesn’t need to ask; he’s already aware. Your wallet with your DSO I.D lies sprawled somewhere behind you, but with your face grasped in his large hand and forced back against his chest, it’s impossible to break free to get it.

From here, however, you can see the coy smile across his cracked lips.

You can only summon a grunt, one that trembles when his hips snap upwards deliberately. His cock, wedged between your thighs, glides rhythmically across your folds. You’re embarrassingly wet, your hips twitching whenever he just barely catches your clit.

Your frown melts despite your stubborness, trying to twist your head out of his grip. His fingers simply squeeze your jaw harder, smushing your cheeks.

“Oh, that’s right,” he purrs despite your lack of answer, the languid push and pull of his cock through your soft pussy making you squeak. You’ve completely soaked him, and you can feel the slickness coating your red thighs where he’s made a warm home for himself. His legs easily bracket around yours, pinning them tightly shut around his cock. “DSO. I wasn’t aware you had such unconventional means of interrogation. Are you sure you’re telling the truth?”

Your sharp glare amuses him, it seems, as he releases your jaw to give it a condescending pat. You double over slightly to get away from him, but with his arm banded around your waist, all you can do is lean forward.

The position makes your body sway with his languid thrusts, exposing the red hue dusted across the back of your neck. Victor’s fingers brush along the reddened nape, making you shiver.

You clasp at the arm holding your steady, shaking fingers digging into the snakeskin of his coat.

“If I investigate this place,” you choke out, your mind preoccupied by the empty, throbbing heat between your legs,” and find anything suspicious, we will—”

His thrusts turn shallow, focusing right near your hole, and your words dry up. Your hips twitch, trying to grind along the disproportionate size of him, but he seems keen to keep you where he pleases.

“If, dear,” Victor so kindly points out, his voice breathless but still eerily steady. “Empty words. Much like yourself, hm?”

You ignore the innuendo.

“I’m sure you’d prefer not to be,” he purrs, his thrusts slowing until his cock is resting up against your soaked cunt. You groan, wiggling weakly. His free hand returns to your face, shifting under your jaw so he can pull you back against his chest again. You try to avoid his gaze, but your own glazed, watery eyes find his automatically. “Come. Why don’t we discuss the benefits of your visit in my office? I’m sure we can both walk away with a fulfilling agreement.”

Your cheeks redden, but you don’t back down. “I still have to do my job.”

Victor Gideon smiles, his voice a gentle, tempting whisper. “You can do your job after I fill your pretty pussy, can’t you, dear?”