#but scar's voice jus hits different

[didderd-reblogs]

Snaps: wdym, i don't have a voice kink-

Scar: *speaks*

Snaps: oh fuck

_____

(Scar belongs to @skelekins)

[tojisun]

kinktober — 16: humiliation/degradation

toji fushiguro x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; d/s; pleasure and orgasm denial; power imbalance; age difference; pet play; ownership and daddy kink; toys; petnames; no penetration teehee; mean toji

kinktober masterlist

you whimper from your spot on the floor, your knees and shins screaming in agony as you continue to sit your whole weight on them. your swollen eyes continue to tear up, drenching your already-damp face and you are sure that nothing of your makeup is left at this point. it’s been more than fifteen minutes already, after all, but your lover – your daddy – is relentless, unwilling to give you any room for your satisfaction.

the sound of a wet slide from in front of you brings you back to reality and you shift your eyes up, whining when toji continues to refuse to meet your gaze. his head is thrown back to the cushions in pleasure, his scarred lips parted for raspy grunts, and his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. 

toji has always been beautiful. has always looked so hot when he is overtaken by his hunger, but not now. not like this!

his fist is wrapped around a fleshlight, the toy squelching with every pump that toji makes to his cock; you watch the way he drags it down until the head of his cock hits the base of the toy, the fleshlight not having been long enough to take the entirety of his length to the hilt. still, toji grunts in pleasure, his fist going erratic, chasing the tight heat created by the toy. 

toji’s lips quirk up at hearing your broken sob and, finally, he peels his eyes open to drag them to look at you. you don’t know what he sees but it makes him chuckle, the sound ripping from his throat, leaving you curling into yourself at hearing how mean he sounds. 

“oh so now y’can’t make eye contact, huh?” his voice is ragged from chasing his euphoria and as much as you’d like to bask in the drags of his syllables, you couldn’t help but flinch at his condescending tone.

he clicks his tongue. “this is why i’m not fuckin’ you, bunny. can’t even be a good girl.”

you gasp, startling from your position, your hands twitching from where they lay clenched into a fist on your lap. a denial sits on your tongue, dragging along your taste buds like a burning wire, but the words sizzle into nothing at the warning look that toji shoots you. 

your lips wobble, desperate tears leaking from your eyes, and toji’s face softens. “c’mere, bun.”

you jerk from your place, blinking up at him in surprise, and it takes toji’s quirked brow for you to move, surging towards him with frantic energy. your legs buckle at the sudden tension and a punched breath leaves your lungs when you almost slip. you feel shame slam into you when you hear toji’s barked laughter at seeing you desperately fumble, your cheeks thrumming with warmth.

still, with a languid glide, you finally manage to come and kneel before him, your body bracketed by his toned legs, the rough material of his work jeans dragging against your tender skin. 

that’s another thing that drives you crazy – how toji’s still so covered while you sit there in nothing but a skimpy lingerie set he asked you to wear. he had been desperate with restrained desire when he gave it to you, and while it was not really begging, there was a hint of plea in his actions. which is why you truly didn’t expect the night to tumble into this scene.

he cups your cheek with his free hand, his thumb swiping at the corner of your lips, and you peer up at him, ignoring the way he’s still warming the fleshlight, before jutting your lip out in a pout, hoping that maybe he’d reward you now. that he’d stop fucking that goddamn toy and choose to ruin you instead.

toji’s smile turns sharper like he’s caught on to what you’re thinking. “aww, why you poutin’? hate seein’ me fuck the toy so much?”

you nod shakily, still quiet just like he had wanted. toji grins, eyes blazing with pride at seeing your display of obedience.

“but i’m jus’ appreciatin’ the gift you gave me, bunny.” his hand leaves your face to sling it back on the chair’s arm before he begins fucking the fleshlight again.

your eyes rip from toji’s own to watch the obscene display of his thick cock disappearing from sight, being engulfed by the artificial tender walls of the toy. the sounds are near pornographic especially with toji’s appreciative grunts, the slick of his precum mingling with the squelch of the toy as he breaches it in – consistent pushing in and pulling out, before turning timed thrusts into shallow humping.

toji moans, the sound low and guttural before he stills, panting breaths slipping past through his gritted teeth. you watch, parched, as his head falls back to the headrest, his chest heaving with the consistent stimulation on his cock. 

your hands twitch from where they lay limp on your sides before tentatively, carefully, you bring them up to touch yourself. a hand comes up to tweak at your pebbled nipple, the other sliding between your legs to ghost at your already damp cunt. you bite your bottom lip to stifle the pleased sigh that you almost let out, thankful for finally breaking the tightly-wound edging that you were subjected to.

your palm is so warm and so good as it plays with your clothed clit, sending goosebumps rising along the expanse of your bare skin. your eyes slip close as your pleasure begins to peak over, reaching an apex that threatens to rip a scream from your throat. fuckfuckfu-

“keep touchin’ y’rself and y’r not cummin’ tonight, pet,” toji suddenly snarls as he yanks at your hair. his touch burns and you cry, clawing at his arm, apologies spilling from your swollen lips. belatedly, you realize that the fleshlight is gone – discarded by toji in his anger – and his cock now hidden again underneath his boxers. 

“i’m sorry, daddy! i’m sorry!” you weep, the fight escaping your body in ripples, leaving you on your knees, dangling awkwardly as you fight the sharp pain from where toji has your hair in his grip.

“are you really?” he pulls harder, making you crane your neck to blink wet eyes up at him. “y’ve kept bein’ a bad pet f’r me, kid. i’m tempted to just fuck the toy and leave you like this since you never listen.”

“no, please! please toji-san, don’t!” 

“s’all y’r good at, huh? beggin’ an’ cryin’. won’t listen to orders, touchin’ y’rself like y’got any right to.”

your body convulses at the force of his anger, the touch of gentleness that once teased his aged eyes now stripped into nothing but overarching dominance. he’s stopped playing and now you’re truly at his mercy.

amidst stuttered breaths, you feel your cunt leaking. 

fuck, it shouldn’t feel this good to be demeaned. 

“c’mon bun,” toji breathes out after your cries calmed down. “remind me again who owns y’r body?” his hand eases from your hair, no longer yanking. 

“you, daddy,” you hiccup. “jus’ you.”

it takes a heartbeat before he’s finally letting go, thick fingers sliding past the tresses of your hair to pat at your aching scalp, comforting you silently. you collapse on the floor, your body falling to rest on toji’s legs, your head pillowed by his thigh.

you catch your breath, blinking the tears away. your glossy eyes trace the chub underneath his boxers where a damp spot is now forming and you whine, wanting toji’s cock to fuck your throat. 

toji huffs a fond laugh. “wann get y’r throat stuffed, little bunny?”

you mewl, nodding, before shuffling on your knees to peer up at him. he continues to pet your hair, a wordless comfort, and his eyes narrow at seeing your desperation.

because you truly are desperate; you want to have your cunt fucked – want it to be leaking with his cum – but there is nothing better than being used by your daddy. being his little pet. his little toy.

toji coos, wiping away the beading tears in the corner of your eyes. “go ahead, baby.” his voice lulls back into its gentleness. “show me how good you can be.”

with a quiet giggle, you press your lips on the inside of his thigh before you shuffle close to mouth at his clothed cock. toji laughs at your happy little trill.

tags: @stargirlrchive @cursingtoji @plooto @liwooa

[kaizestar]

thinking about simon riley being a giant of a man

18+, mdni. f!reader. body worship, edging, usage of pet names (angel). mention of oral sex (f!recieving), implicit oral sex (m!receiving). mild possessiveness. relationship w reader is undefined but implied to be fwb/situationship.

pt 2 is here (toxic!fwb simon x f!reader; f!reader x johnny)

why in god’s name is he so big? not even sexually, though. he’s just a hulking mass of muscle (and fat. this man does NOT stop eating, im telling you). his arms and hands are just built different.

he’s got that sun-kissed skin, bronze and tanned from years working under the beating sun, and hard muscle of his arm makes the blue of his veins that much more prominent. whenever you’re lucky enough to catch him with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you can’t help but stare. his hands are rough and calloused from years of hard work, and his fingers are thick. so fucking thick. like what the fuck. stop it.

he’d definitely turn foreplay into the whole thing, having you cum around his fingers and maybe occasionally his knuckles, grazing them against your clit and smiling subtly as your walls flutter.

he’s got a nice jaw, too. it’s probably been broken a few times—alongside his nose—but that only accentuates the hard lines of his face after it heals. when he’s pissed, he fucking clenches it so tightly you think he’s about to commit homicide, and his pretty brown eyes darken and glower at the perpetrator.

he’s into body worship, too, but he’s not gonna ask you. he can’t. so instead, he nuzzles you into his chest and nips at your neck every time he’s seeking some attention, hoping that’s enough to tell you what he wants.

if that doesn’t work, though—or if your attention is elsewhere—he’ll snatch it back as quickly as humanely possible, because don’t you know that you’re his? he’s always been so good for you. you ought to pay him back somehow.

he’d probably fuck you stupid after that.

sometimes you like to tease him, and simon fucking hates that. he knows you’re not oblivious to the way his breath quickens whenever your fingers graze his chest, or when his muscles ripple under your every touch. so why the fuck won’t you just touch him already? really touch him.

his poor cock is aching for some attention, so if you aren’t going to give it to him, he’ll just have to take it himself.

he’d flip you over within an instant, pinning you down under him, sprawled out over the sheets as he rutted into you in short, shallow thrusts. his eyes would be more focused on your face, his thumb and index finger wrapped tightly around your wrist as he guided your hands down his chest, his voice a low rumble of pleasure as he teased you.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he taunted as he edged you, tearing pitiful whimpers from your throat. he chuckled in faint amusement before groaning under his breath, brown eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he managed to hit that sweet spot inside of you. “so fuckin’ pretty. jus’ for me, yeah?”

it’s when you start to kiss his scars does he absolutely loses it. even though you were lying exhausted beneath him, you were still putting in the effort to give him an apology for not giving him enough attention earlier? aw, how sweet of you.

he’d pull out last second and his cum would pool onto your tummy, thick white ropes spurting from the weeping tip of his cock. he was still hard, but if you wanted to stop, he would, and he’d help carry you to the bathroom to get you cleaned up and might eat you out on the sink while he’s at it

otherwise, he’s happy to continue for the night. you still haven’t given his cock the proper attention it needs, after all, and that fucked out, blissful look in your eyes as you work your way up and down his cock is always enough to get him hard again.

“fuck, you’re such a smart girl, aren’t you? always knowin’ exactly what i like. keep doin’ it jus’ like that, angel.” he watches as you swallowed his cum, face painted a beautiful white that he wouldn’t mind seeing on you again, and fucking groans.

“shit, i’m gonna wanna keep you.”

honestly just the best boy. i didn’t rlly know how to give trigger warnings in the top, but i think they cover most of what’s happening here :) lmk ur thoughts on this piece !!

banner is made by @/benkeibear.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Modern AU - Azriel worries there are too many constrasts between him and Eris, but he would never address it, not wanting to hurt his boyfriend. Obviously Eris notices and they... for @azrisweek | azrisweek masterlist | read on ao3 | no warnings

“Are you ready, my love?” Eris‘ voice is laden with impatience when it reaches Azriel through the bathroom door. 

Azriel presses his lips in a thin line.

He technically is ready. But also not. Appearance wise he has been ready for nearly an hour, mentality wise…not. This is not for him. This whole rich people get together isn’t for him, has never been and he feels nervousness bloom rapidly in his chest at the thought of it.

“Five minut—,” he calls back, but is interrupted when the door opens behind him (damn him for accepting the no-lock bathroom doors). 

The door hits the wall with a silent thump, and Eris, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, is revealed, his appearance absolutely immaculate. Azriel nearly gasps, would have done so under different circumstances. If he wasn’t so…stressed and uncomfortable at this moment.

Eris steps forward and leans against the doorframe, gives his boyfriend a once-over, then smiles. “I would say you are very ready, my love.” He wants to walk up to Azriel and softly smack his backside, but when he sees the look on his lover‘s face, he immediately stops himself.

“Tell me what’s going on.” No question, an order. He doesn’t like dancing around topics — any sort of problems or issues or discomforts should be addressed immediately.

“Nothing,” Azriel mumbles silently, not able to meet Eris‘ gaze through the mirror. His eyes are lowered to the sink he has his hands braced on. His scarred and ugly hands, marred forever from an accident in his childhood. A shudder courses down his spine.

“I won’t leave this bathroom until you tell me.”

“But the department dinner, we can’t be late,” Azriel grumbles.

Eris snorts, and shakes his head, his arms curling around Azriel’s waist, his body flush against his lovers. “Tell me.”

Azriel straightens a little when he leans into his boyfriend’s hold, his own hands sliding over Eris‘ lower arms. “Do you really want to bring me? Wouldn’t you like to be seen with someone more…someone who is better?”

“Better?” Eris repeats, tone tinged with disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Better at what?”

Azriel frowns. “Just better than me!”

“Better than my stunning and marvellous boyfriend?”

Azriel wants to hum and accept the compliment, but he can’t, not right now. Not when doubts gnaw so heavily on his heart he finds it even hard to breathe.

“Someone who fits in better than I do.”

“Why wouldn’t you fit in?” Eris rests his chin atop Azriel’s shoulder. “You are there with me. As my partner, my plus one. I won’t leave your side all evening, there is nothing to worry about.”

But there is so much to worry about, Azriel thinks and closes his eyes. 

Last time when he joined Eris for one of these fancy dinners, he felt immensely ashamed. There were at least three forks and two spoons and only God knows how many knives around his plate and he had no idea which one to use for what. Eris explained the table customs to him, not minding at all that Azriel didn’t know, but for Azriel it was still an awkward situation. One he doesn’t want to repeat. But one he has been replaying in his mind many times.

Because Azriel often finds himself wondering if he truly fits into Eris‘ world. He wasn’t born into a rich family like Eris. His mother was a single parent and while growing up they only ever had the bare minimum. 

Eris has always had a different life — he has always known what fortune meant, growing up as the prime minister’s son and now working as a renowned doctor. How and why he chose to be someone like him, still often surprises Azriel.

“Hm?” Eris asks, not yet having received an answer from his boyfriend.

“Just my usual doubts,” Azriel answers. He has to smile a little when lips brush the side of his neck, sending wrong signals to a southern part of his body. Eris just knows which levers to push inside of his boyfriend to distract him from his bad thoughts. Most of the time it truly works wonders, but other times…other times he needs more than that.

Either them talking for hours, or Eris holding Azriel throughout the whole night, kissing his hair, gently rubbing his back with his warm hand. 

But there isn’t time for any of these things now. They need to leave.

“Don‘t worry, I‘m happy to be your plus one tonight.”

The simply lie is needed because he doesn’t want Eris to be sad. He wants Eris to enjoy this dinner and he wants to be a good boyfriend. Eris’ should have the life he deserves, because Azriel knows that growing up —despite never having to worry about money— wasn’t easy for Eris either and if there is one thing Eris now truly deserves then it is happiness.

“You know I always worry, Azriel,” Eris mumbles. “Especially when it comes to you and your happiness. I want you to be—”

“I know.” Azriel forces a smile onto his lips and finally meets Eris‘ gaze through the mirror. “We‘ll talk when we get home.”

———————

His hands have turned so sweaty that the champagne glass nearly slides out of his palm, and a buzzing sound borne from nervousness starts in his ears. Carefully, Azriel places the glass on one of the cocktail tables, and glances around him, hoping to make out his boyfriend in the bustling crowd of all of Eris‘ coworkers.

Where the hell is he? Azriel asks himself. Eris had promised him to stay with him all night, but then he went to the restroom and hasn’t returned since. He is probably talking to someone… Azriel ponders and absentmindedly rubs his palm over his jaw.

While Eris is kind of a social butterfly at such gatherings, Azriel would always love to just morph into the wall or disappear completely — they contrast like night and day.

Maybe I’m really not the right one for someone like Eris? They are similar in many aspects, but also as different as cats and dogs in many other ways. In too many ways. What if they won’t work out in the end?

Azriel loves Eris more than anything, more than his own life. He  knows the sentiment is returned. But what if in the end, they find out that their differences are too big to truly lead a life together?

Azriel shakes his head, and is brought back to the moment when someone bumps into his shoulder. A short woman with black hair whom he knows as Doctor Amren. He only knows about her from stories that Eris told him — apparently she looks much younger than she actually is, and is dating one of the doctors in training, Varian.

Eris, although he always tries to deny it, loves gossip. Just like Azriel. The corners of his mouth lift the tiniest bit. He would also never admit it, so at least this is something they have in common (among other things, of course). 

Despite that small comfort, the doubts won’t leave Azriel. After checking once more to see if he can find Eris somewhere in the crowd, but still not catching sight of him, he knows he doesn’t want to stay here.

He needs a moment for himself. And since this place is filled with people, he knows he needs to get out. There are three options: restroom, balcony or the elevator. The elevator sounds like the least rational and so does the balcony where everyone can see him and maybe get the idea to walk out to him and talk to him. So restroom is his only hope to find solace there and catch a moment to calm his mind.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Azriel?” He can hear Eris outside the door, and decides that it is quite silly to stay hidden here and let his boyfriend keep on searching. So he does the only thing he considers rational and mature. 

“I‘m here,” he says matter-of-factly, feeling stupid the moment the words leave him. Of course, he is here.

“Can I come in?”

Azriel doesn’t answer him, only turns the key and wordlessly opens the door. His shoulders are slightly drooped, the corners of his mouth downturned.

“I‘m sorry for leaving you alone.”

“I had to relieve myself.”

Eris shoots Azriel an incredulous look, not one bit buying that poor lie. “I have been looking for you for at least fifteen minutes, my love.”

Azriel shrugs a shoulder, somehow at a loss for words now that he feels an immense amount of shame creep in again.

He is an adult and not a little child, but with how he is behaving now he definitely resembles a little five year old boy more than a 35 year old man.

“Let me show you something.” Eris uncrosses his arms and reaches out his hand. 

Reluctantly, Azriel agrees, glad that Eris changed the topic. He follows after his boyfriend, his hand sliding into his Eris‘, and slowly and with a lack of motivation he is trailing after Eris until they are outside on one of the large glass balconies. The cool night air embraces him like a cloak and Azriel inhales a deep breath, letting the crisp air cool his racing mind and heavy heart.

He doesn’t really know why they are out here, but he likes it. The thick windows drown out most of the noises — the chatters and music— from the inside and there are no people here.

He glances around, trying to figure out what Eris wanted to show him or if he just wanted to bring him out here for Azriel to relax? There is nothing. Only skyscrapers surrounding them, so Azriel guesses it is the latter option.

“What did you want to show me?” he asks nevertheless.

“Nothing.” Eris shrugs a casual shoulder, then also reaches for Azriel’s other hand, taking it into his and brushing his thumb over the back of Azriel’s. “I only wanted to talk to you. And for you to tell me what is going on.”

Azriel lowers his chin to his chest and suddenly feels even more ashamed and disappointed in himself — in the end he really managed to ruin the evening for Eris. Again…

“Our earlier conversation is still on my mind.”

“Oh, Azriel,” Eris begins to chuckle. “I told you that there would not be a single person that I would rather have here with me than you. You are perfect and amazing, and I love you. And I love having you here. I love having you here with me.”

“That’s not the problem, Eris.” Azriel’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands, his large, scarred hands in Eris pale and neatly manicured ones. Eris‘ are slimmer, softer, his fingers long and boney and his caress always tender. Not like his own which is somehow…brutish, he thinks.

“I don’t fit into your world, Eris,” Azriel answers wistfully. “This,” —he removes one hand from Eris‘ hold to tug at the collar of his tux— “isn’t me. This doesn’t fit me. I look absolutely silly and—”

“Beautiful.” A sad smile appears on Eris‘ lips. “But I understand, and I am sorry.”

Azriel’s eyes open wide, and he flashes Eris an incredulous look. “Wait! Why are you sorry? I just ruined your perfect evening with dinner and—”

“I‘m sorry for forcing you to come with me when you clearly feel uncomfortable. I should have asked, should have noticed earlier that you don’t like these sorts of things. And honestly…the only perfect thing about this dinner is spending time with you.”

“That‘s not true.”

“It is.” Eris hums, and then pecks his boyfriend’s lips. “It really is. I don’t care much about this dinner either. But I care about you, and spending time with you — time you enjoy as well.” His lips coast to the corner of Azriel’s mouth. “Let’s get out of here, and get McDonald‘s?”

“My beloved doctor, you always say it is unhealthy!” Azriel laughs. “And you don’t like—”

“It is unhealthy, but if it means that we are sitting in my car together for hours, talking and eating, in an empty fast food restaurant parking lot, then I love it.”

“Talking and eating?” Azriel cocks a brow, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Rounding it off with sex on the backseat?” Eris grins. “The perfect evening.”

“What will you tell your co-workers?”

“That we are going home. I don’t need to give them a reason.” His hand cradles Azriel‘s cheek and he kisses him softly. “But I can also tell them that my boyfriend has some issues with one of his southern body parts,” —Eris pushes against Azriel to make him aware of exactly which body part he is talking about— “and he desperately wants me to take a look at it.” 

“You are impossible,” Azriel laughs, but is now the one to kiss the other. “I love you.”

——————

“You remember your birthday party?” Eris shoves two fries into his mouth and leans his head against the headrest, looking at Azriel while chewing happily.

“I was quite drunk so you might need to help me a bit,” Azriel chuckles, reaching over to Eris to wipe a droplet of ketchup from the corner of Eris‘ mouth. “What are you getting at?”

“I know exactly how you felt this evening.” Eris curls his fingers around Azriel’s hand before he can pull it back and kisses his knuckles. “I also felt out of place. You, Cass and Rhys and their wives were dancing and partying all night and I asked myself the whole time what I was actually doing there — I don’t like drinking, I don’t like that sort of music, smoking or dancing like this.”

The corners of Azriel’s mouth drop just like his shoulders.

Eris attaches his lips to the back of his boyfriend’s hand again. “But I know why I was there. Because of you. Because I love you, because you are my boyfriend and in a relationship there are always two people and you may not like everything the other likes, but that is alright. It adds variety to the relationship and teaches you that you can and should adapt from time to time.”

Their gazes meet and Eris says in a soft and affectionate tone, “I don’t want you to feel bad for what happened this evening.” 

Azriel presses his lips in a thin line, grinding his teeth hard. “I wanted you to have a good evening.”

“This evening is perfect, Azriel.” The doctor smiles. “And I know we may contrast in a few ways, but that is alright. We love each other, and you despite not wanting to go, coming with me to this dinner proved this to me once more.”

“Don’t you think we contrast too much?”

Eris vehemently shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It would be boring if we were the exact same and liked the exact same things. Relationships and love are all about complementing each other. Sometimes this means doing things for the other you may not like yourself but because you love the other it is alright and acceptable. Making small sacrifices is fine and okay. Of course we shouldn’t completely transform ourselves into a version where we are no longer true to ourselves, but small changes, adaptations…they are alright.”

He pauses for a moment and draws in a deep breath, shoulders and chest lifting, then falling with a loud sigh.

“I love you, Azriel, and nothing will ever change that just because you may not enjoy all the same things I do.”

“I love you,” Azriel whispers, his voice tinged with affection. “And I think…you are right.”

“You think?” Eris raises a brow, a playful smirk on his lips.

“I know you are right because my smart and deadly handsome boyfriend is always right!” Azriel‘s laughter fills the inside of the car and Eris joins in, chest warming and relief seeping into his heart. It is good that they talked. Talking to Eris always helps — already helped at a time where they weren’t even dating yet. 

“Everything’s alright between us?” Azriel asks a little sheepishly, nervous despite the former lightness of the conversation.

Eris smiles behind the napkin he is dabbing his face with. “It is.”

“The evening was really alright?”

“Almost perfect.” Eris grins, tossing the napkin into the bag and a crease appears on Azriel’s forehead. He raises a brow. “Almost?”

The grin turns into a smirk, and playfully flashes in Eris‘ amber eyes. “Get in the back seat.”

general Azris tag list (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @chunkypossum

thank you so much @chunkypossum & @queercontrarian for beta reading💛

[dxckgrxsonx]

sorry i’m on a roll tonight but everyone always talks abt jason’s scars but like. everyone in the batfam must have them, i mean they fight criminals who have knives and guns and brass knuckles there’s no way they’ve never gotten hit,,, so being dick’s lover and him being used to being sultry and stuff but one day when he comes out of the shower you pull him to the bed and he’s like “eheh you couldn’t wait to have me?” but his words die in his throat when you gently lay him down and start kissing every little scar on his body, and he gets really whiny and surprisingly subby when you start kissing an old stab wound on his inner thigh *insert elmo fire gif here*

oh oh i’m soft. i’m crying just a little. my baby boy 🥺🥺

**

You still manage to surprise him.

He thinks it should be statistically impossible, thinks that you shouldn’t be able to sneak up on him the way that you do. The quiet, emotional way you do when you see something that makes your heart ache just a little.

He’s trained since he was a child to prevent things like this, he knows body language, he knows speech patterns, he knows how to disarm someone in three seconds flat.

He knows you.

He also knows what it’s like to be wounded. To be bleeding out and hurting and utterly alone. He’s painfully aware that a serrated blade will tear and shred his skin and leave a horrible, jagged scar. He knows exit wounds are messier than entry wounds and that being shot burns. He knows that his body is a patchwork quilt of freshly healed skin and old, aching wounds.

He knows that you love him.

But of all the things he knows, all the things he expects. He not once considers the possibility of an ambush. Especially from you.

**

“Cmere.” You beckon when he comes out of the bathroom, towel wrapped low on his hips. His first thought is lustful, scandalous. You want him. You always want him. He’s more than happy to indulge you. But the set of your mouth is off, you’re looking at him like you see him. All of him. “Dick, c’mere. Let me love on you.”

He trips forwards, just slightly touching up against uncoordinated. The smile on your face is soft, patient, wonderful. He feels his heart stutter for just a moment, a brief skip. On patrol the skip of his heart usually means ‘oh shit i’m about to die’. But with you it’s different, with you it’s ‘you make me clumsy, you make me vulnerable’.

You guide him backwards, push him down onto the bed. There’s a thousand different thoughts tangled in a knot and he’s half stuck between excitement and apprehension. You’ve shoved him onto the bed before, usually before you sink your soft, wet cunt around his cock. But you don’t have that look on your face this time.

So the apprehension sweeps in.

His brain does it on autopilot–comes up with contingencies. He’s got every single weakness of yours catalogued. He knows exactly where to put pressure to get you to give. He knows that your left arm is weaker than your right. He knows he could open his mouth right now and say something that would have you in tears.

Part of him hates himself for it.

But it’s kept him alive.

Your mouth presses against his shoulder, just below his collarbone. There’s a mess of scar tissue under your lips. It’s a messy circle. A gunshot wound. 9mm. There’s no exit wound and he remembers digging into the open wound looking for the bullet. He remembers the blinding pain and laughing hysterically at the fact he could hardly hold the tweezers with the amount of blood coating his hand. But you lick over the sensitive skin and Dick shudders, the memory fracturing apart.

“What are you doing?” He finally asks, voice thicker than he wants it to be.

Your attention flickers to him for just a moment, “My pretty boy. Jus’ want to show you how much I love you. How much I love all of you.”

There’s a lump in his throat and he can’t swallow it back.

You shuffle down his body. Lick over the long, thin line of scar tissue over his ribs. Pocket knife. He was still Robin when he got that one. He recalls the flash of pain as it sliced him open. The adrenaline hid it well amongst the fight but when it was over it stung, nerves flaring awake. Seven stitches in total. A neat little row.

Nimble fingers tug at the towel around his waist and Dick feels his breath hitch. You pull it open and suck a mark into his hip. The dark blemish settles besides a smattering of bruises from his most recent patrol and he doesn’t expect to feel overwhelming relief at the feel of your mouth on his skin.

But he does.

You tap at his thigh, gesture for him to settle back and hook it open so you can kiss at the thick, jagged scar running across his inner thigh. The skin is raised and pink. Still new. Still healing. The edges are surrounded by tiny needle marks. Stitches.

His entire body flinches and he finds himself almost trying to run from the feel of your lips on that horribly sensitive patch of skin. Serrated blade. Agonising pain. He remembers the rip and pull of his flesh as the knife went in. Remembers almost screaming from the pain of it.

Your hot, wet tongue drags along the length of the scar and Dick feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask between gentle kisses, lavishing affection on something that was once so painful. It still hurts sometimes. Especially on cold nights. Even more when he does certain manoeuvres in training, in combat. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Your thumb smooths along the scar and then your mouth chases it.   

“Don’t stop.” He gasps. “Please don’t stop.”

He feels you kiss the inside of his thigh so softly, so gently and he’s knocked completely off kilter by how much he likes having you dote on him the way you are. You kiss his damaged skin like you’re trying to remove the pain and Dick wants to cry, wants to hide himself inside you because if anyone in this world would keep him safe, he'd trust it to be you.

“You’re so beautiful.” You whisper, and glance up to catch his watery gaze. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. My brave boy.”

**

[airbendertendou]

reader being part of an og sword gang & meeting the current crows <3 lowercase intended ; possibly ooc crow boys ; includes cussing ; reader is shorter than todoroki and rao ; violence / harrassment in binzo's

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

MISAKI "RAO" MARIO ♥︎ OYAKOU

“let me talk to him!” you frown, crossing your arms across your chest. todoroki raises an eyebrow your way, only tilting his head. “give me his number, four eyes!”

“you’re calling me names and expect me to be nice to you?”

yasushi saunters his way to both of you, a grin growing on his face when he heard you arguing with todoroki. he giggles at your insults, “as if that’s different from any other day! you’re [name]’s favorite to tease, after all.”

throwing his arm across your shoulders, yasushi pouts and coos your way as he pinches your cheeks between one hand, making your lips pucker. “and who could say no to this cutie?”

you play along, widening your eyes and batting them innocently. a new voice calls out cheerfully, fujio waving enthusiastically at all of you. he’s got a larger boy trailing behind him, ever-present scowl on his face deepening at your position.

fujio points his finger between the three of you. “and what’s going on here?”

“bullying,” your voice is garbled — muffled from yasushi’s hand still pushing your lips together. you shove his hand away and turn to fujio with a frown. “this big, dumb jerk,” todoroki raises an eyebrow, “won’t let me talk to murayama.”

“why do you need to talk to him?” fujio tilts his head. rao just continues to watch on, wondering if he should step in and protect you or not.

you look to your feet shyly. “i miss him, is all. and seki and furuya and— jus’ give me his number!” you turn to todoroki again, raising your voice.

“i’ll think about it…” todoroki leans closer to you, making a show of bending over so that he’s your height. “shortstack.”

it’s immediate — your reaction. you slam the tip of your foot at the glasses wearing boy, only missing because he blocked the move. dropping your foot, you swing it again and meet his stomach this time, hitting your target this time.

you scowl, “little bitch. call me short again.”

yasushi is cackling beside you, an arm sling across his stomach as tears gather in his eyes. rao is looking at you closer now, inching away slowly.

“you go to a weird school.” it’s murmured in fujio’s ear as todoroki straightens up with a glare.

fujio giggles with a shrug, “i know! i love it here.”

MASHII "MERCY" TAKEHIKO ♥︎ WHITE RASCALS

you’re bobbing your head to the song playing over the speakers, shimmying with the dancers who come by to say hello. rocky and koo haven’t made a reappearance yet, but you weren’t worried — they could take care of themselves and everyone else in the building.

“my love!” a voice calls out. you grin, looking up from the beer you’re pouring to see kizzy lean on the bar to see you. she pouts, “have you seen rocky or kaito? i’m bored.”

you copy her pout, sliding the beers to where they belong before leaning closer to her. “i can keep you entertained, i don’t mind.”

“ooh,” she grins at the wink you send her way. playfully swatting at you before she fans her face with her hand, kizzy coyly flirts back. “i’d want nothing more, [name]!”

kaito steps up beside her, simply raising an eyebrow at her flushed cheeks before looking at you. you only shrug, “careful, or i’ll steal your girlfriend.”

kizzy giggles as kaito swoops her away, a minuscule smile on his lips as he does so. you chuckle and clean a few glasses before an order catches your attention. as you slide the rum and coke over, a new face pops up at the bar. he’s wearing sunglasses, and has a scar on his right cheek. rocky pats the newbie on the shoulder as he passes by, nodding to you as he goes.

looking the new comer up and down, you tilt your head with a squint. walking so that you’re in front of him, you ignore the way he stiffens and speak. “are you old enough to be here?”

“are you old enough to be working here?” he replies.

you purse your lips, nodding slowly before grinning. “…touché, sir. what can i get you?”

“mercy,” he says instead — you only blink. he clears his throat, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and hitting the bottom of the carton before pulling one out. “my name is mercy. can i smoke in here?”

“it’s allowed, but i hate it.” you curl your nose up. “did you decide on a drink?”

he looks you up and down again, the movement hidden by the sunglasses he wears. a cigarette is perched between his teeth — he pulls it out and licks his lips before speaking. “what’s your name?”

you let out a sigh, but your name is called before you can reply. kizzy is back, allowing herself behind the bar as she gathers you into her arms. her nose is nuzzled into your neck as she speaks, “kaito and i are taking you home today! lucky us.”

you hum, catching kaito’s gaze over the bar. he nods, looking at mercy from the corner of his eye. “lucky you, indeed. i’ll make your favorite for dinner.”

kizzy whines, shuffling further into your neck. it makes you grin ; how comfortable they both are with you. she pulls away only slightly and glares mercy’s way. “who’s this? a new guy who doesn’t know club heaven’s dress code?”

“be nice to the poor guy,” you nudge her with a small laugh. “he probably came for a meeting with rocky.”

she only hmph’s, curling back into your neck. she and kaito stay there for the rest of the night, not allowing mercy to talk to you anymore. while it got on his nerves, you couldn’t help but laugh fondly at how protective they were over you.

YAMAGUCHI MAGOROKU ♥︎ SANNOH HOODLUM SQUAD

naomi is instructing you on how to make the perfect omurice just as the door dings open. you both straighten up, looking at each other wide-eyed before rushing to the front. naomi wipes her hands on her apron, “welcome to it— oh, it’s just you.”

snorting at the quick drop in her voice, you smile at the man who’s just stepped through the door. tsukumo nods your way, taking a seat at the bar without a word. naomi’s frown deepens, “why are you here?”

“don’t be so mean!” you chose her softly. taking her place in front of tsukumo, you grin. “hello, sir! what can i get for you?”

“don’t act so coy.” he speaks sternly, eyes on the motorcycle keys he’s holding. you tsk, pouting at his dismissal of your advances. naomi snorts, looking down so you can’t see her laughing. “do you have any onigiri made?”

naomi nods, “tuna, right? spicy?”

tsukumo hums and finally looks up to watch her disappear to the kitchen. you ignore the ding of the door and flutter your eyelashes his way. he blinks, pushing you away from him softly by poking your forehead. “you have a customer, stop flirting with me.”

“you’re a customer, too… technically.” you sigh and walk to the new comer, eyes a little dimmer but still mischievous. he’s wearing a cheetah print button up, his hair pulled back in a ponytail as he chews on a piece of gum. “welcome to itokan! what can i get for you?”

the boy looks at you, gulping lightly before glancing tsukumo’s way. “what do you serve?”

you deadpan, glancing back to the giant menu above the bar before turning back to him. you resist the urge to point at it, reminding yourself he wasn’t one of the sannoh boys, so you had to be nicer. “jus’ say what you want and i’ll let you know.”

“hm…” he makes a show of looking you up and down, grinning as he pops his gum with his teeth. you snort as he blows up the gum once more, rolling your eyes.

“me?” you say it in the same voice you’d been using to speak to tsukumo. the older man is peering back at you with naomi, watching the stranger with hawk-like eyes. you pop the bubble he’s made, “not a chance, pretty boy.”

MIYAUCHI "BINZO" KOZO ♥︎DARUMA IIKA

you regret not wearing your red jacket today. simply put, a group of teen boys spotted you and decided they needed to talk to you. for whatever reason they had, your numerous no, not interested’s didn’t deter them at all. that led to you pushing them away from you and that turned into a fight.

and there you were, slamming your fist into the apparent leader’s nose until he ended up choking on his own blood. his eyes are swollen and teary, but they still regard you with terror, “you’re a demon!”

a proud smile crawls onto your face, covering your previous rage. “yeah — that’s what they call me!”

your words make his eyes widen more before he promptly passes out. you let out a huff, sitting on your bottom and leaning against the wall behind you. they’d gotten a few swings in at first — the pain had only settled in now. you hiss at your busted knuckles, “fuckin’ brats. can’t take no for an answer. hope they learned their lesson, at least.”

“oya?” your cackling is interrupted by a curious sound. at the entrance of the alley — you couldn’t let civilians see you fight! — a boy with wild hair stands. he reminds you of murayama for some reason ; the thought makes your grin more feral. “need help?”

“yeah, actually!” you slide up the wall slowly, wincing at the ache in your ankle. they might’ve sprained it, or you did after kicking them so many times. you wave the boy over, “help me hobble home, hm?”

he comes over slowly, assessing the situation you’d found yourself in. at his lack of speed, you frown and lean further into the wall. he nods to the pile of boys, “you do that?”

you look over them emotionlessly with a shrug, “they wouldn’t listen to me.”

hands lock around your knees, the world turning upside down as he pulls you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. you squeak, hitting his back with the palms of your hands. “you’re making me nauseous, you brute!”

“oh, sorry.” you’re sat back down, hands on your knees as you heave in breaths. you glare his way, but have to hide your laugh at the clueless expression on his face. you swirl your hand in a circle, motioning for him to turn. he tilts his head at you, “hm?”

“piggy back. so much easier.” you’re lifted onto his back, arms winding around his neck and holding on gently. you hum, “much better.”

he eyes your busted knuckles, thinking back to the pile of passed out bodies he’d seen. just how strong were you? what was with the rage you held? he shakes off his thoughts and asks a different question instead. “where do i take you to?”

he can feel your grin against his neck. “you’ll know when you see a sea of red.”

maybe it would’ve been better to just leave you there, he thinks as he steps into devil’s area.

KAMUI ITO ♥︎ RUDE BOYS

“think we need these?” he’s walking down the snack aisle when your voice carries over to him. peaking over the shelves, he can see a haggle of messy, dirty children following behind you. “should get some just in case, hm? the boys need anything?”

eri puts a finger to her chin as she thinks and you grin her way. another girl is eyeing the candy bars and you try your best to keep your smile on. you only had enough money to get some essentials — no sweet treats for today, sadly. eri snaps her fingers, “band-aids!”

“getting some first aid is a good idea. thanks, sweetie.” eri grins at the praise, scooting ahead to grab some antibacterial wipes. you let the kids pick the band-aids, giggling at the thought of seeing the scary and tough rude boys wearing hello kitty bandages.

you swipe a few more things into your basket before asking for their help again. he lingers behind you, smile hidden under his mask at the way you interact with the kids. it reminds him of rao — makes him soft and gooey as you giggle along with them.

“okay, my loves,” they all stand in front of you as you call. in a single line, holding each other’s hands — a formation that was drilled into their minds the first time they left nameless city — you go over the small list you’d made with them. you nod, “think this is it. ready to head back?”

they cheer, ignoring the looks other customers give them. you, on the other hand, send a dark glare to anyone looking at the mis-matched kids in any unkind way. the bell rings as you open the door, numerous bags in your hands. eri is in the lead, one tiny hand holding onto the back of your shirt as the other is clasped with the boy behind her.

the walk back to your district will be a tedious one with your hands this full. nothing you haven’t managed before, though. the clearing of a throat hits you from behind and you turn to see a boy, a mask covering the bottom half of his face. you stiffen, walking in front of the kids with a stone face.

the boy gestures to the bags, “want help?”

want — not need. because he knew you didn’t need help, but wanted to offer his services anyways. you glance back at the kids — they nod encouragingly. “okay, sure. we’re headed to nameless city.”

that would deter him for sure. any time your district is spoken of, crinkled noses and disgusted faces are on the other end of the conversation. instead, he nods and collects a few bags from your hands. “i’ll stay in the back, then, so that the kids are protected from both sides.”

as you walk back, you call out for the kids to sound off every few minutes. just to make sure no one was lost ; to make sure everyone was still with you. he smiles at that — so wide that his eyes scrunch above his mask.

arriving back to nameless city, you see takeshi and p waiting for you. their grins turn into unfriendly frowns as they catch the boy who’d walked with you. p greets the children happily, guiding them away from the stranger as takeshi comes to help you with the bags. he nods to the boy, “who’s that?”

you meet his eyes and smile, seeing his own growing under his mask. “a friend.” you walk up to the boy, “thank you for helping us today.”

he sighs — almost dreamily, it sounds — handing you the bags he’d been carrying. “anytime. anywhere. see you soon?”

takeshi glares as he pulls you back into the city, scrunching his nose at the boy. “no. goodbye.”

your giggles ring around the city, curling against takeshi and p’s scolding. he sighs, pulling his mask down as he watches your figure become smaller and smaller as you walk deeper into the city. he’s doomed — absolutely doomed — when he gets back to the crow’s district.

——♥︎—— happy release day! am aching to write more for every h&l character so i'm using today as an excuse hehe <3 ofc the harem will b tagged @rouzuchan @straysugzhpe @yuken-gf @star2fishmeg airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

The 21st One

Written for the amazing writer @epiclamer, I hope you enjoy this!

TW: Blood, bone-breaking, mentions of ice baths, knives, pain, very whumpy and a veryyy slight mention of suicide for an exaggeration (you'll get it when you read the fic)

Pain was not just a sensation anymore. It was Hero's new reality. Their every moment was characterised by agony, every laboured breath a desperate prayer to escape the hellscape they seemed to be tied down to, the strings of their miserable fate wrapped cruelly around their neck choking them slowly.

"You should see yourself, Hero. Such an alluring masterpiece I've made you into," Supervillain sneered coldly.

They would lazily grip their knife, slicing harsh jagged lines through the crime-fighter's battered skin, sometimes cutting again through old, barely healing cuts. They'd leave Hero covered in blood and sweat, save for the times they would force them into a tank of ice-cold water, the chill racking their slowly diminishing figure with shivers.

The master criminal knew exactly where to hit to make them howl out in pain, their efforts to muffle their own screams rendered completely useless. They desecrated their body with bruises, in hideous shades of brown, yellow, purple and a sickly blue alike. They targeted their weak spots, most of which were weak because they'd inflicted so much damage upon them in the first place.

They don't beg, but they don't try to resist either. It's not like it would've made even an inkling of a difference. Supervillain was hell-bent on making Hero's torture an everlasting experience, till they were more wound than body.

But today, they are especially awful, as though trying to prove their passionate contempt of the mere idea of mercy and decorate it with their lack of empathy.

"I've written myself all over you," the croon, voice so venomously sweet with a promise of danger lacing their tone, sending an involuntary shiver up the crime-stopper's spine. They trace their fingers across yesterday's scars, sticking the nails into open cuts.

They decide to smash parts of Hero's ribcage, slamming their boots one too many times into their victim's abdomen until they hear a loud, grotesque crack.

"Sadly, I have some important matters to attend to. But don't you worry, little hero, someone else will play with you until I come back." And they leave them, breathless, spurting out blood, tying them to the chair again with harsh bindings.

It's only a few mere moments later that the door reopens again, light creeping into the desolate room, and the sound of footsteps echoes in Hero's ears.

Villain.

They would've sobbed, but they didn't have the energy to even breathe. The criminal was ruthless in their fights, and they weren't afraid of playing dirty. Their nemesis gives them a cold look

Pointlessly, foolishly, they ask for a luxury they're certain they can't afford. "C-can you p-please jus' not. . .not hurt me?"

"Give me one single, convincing, goddamn reason why I should," they hiss, fisting the hero's hair between their fingers.

Hero doesn't reply. There is no reason they can come up with that could ever be deemed 'convincing' by their enemy.

But the villain chooses to let go of their locks, and something flashes briefly in their eyes, a look akin to regret.

The blood loss must be making Hero delirious.

They pull out a knife from their belt, and the captive can't supress the soft whine that escapes their lips. Villain walks forward, blade in hand, unreadable expression on their stone-hard face. They stop in their tracks, tipping a little on the balls of their feet, looking almost lost for lack of a better word. Their grip tightens on the knife, and they cross the distance between them and the hero.

Only to slice through their restraints.

They cradle Hero's body against them, pulling them along and laying them down on the floor as they fetched some medical supplies. They can't risk getting a damned hero into the medbay.

They lay their form down on their lap, gingerly lifting their shirt up to examine the wounds. They wipe at them with antiseptic, subconsciously running their fingers through their hair whenever they winced. They bandage the broken ribs as best as they can, and carefully stitch up the deeper scratches.

"I'm almost done, hold still," they whisper gruffly, but there's a slight gentleness hanging off of their words.

They're lucky they brought their water bottle with them. They bring it up to the crime-fighter's cracked and bloodied lips, and they help them drink carefully.

"Th-thank you," they rasp out weakly.

"This is only so you owe me a favour, Hero," they snap, but it's half-hearted and missing the bite it needed.

A hasty attempt at a coverup for the real reason.

What they'd done was beyond dangerous. It was almost suicide, right in Supervillain's territory.

They don't care. All that matters is the crime-fighter slowly falling asleep properly for the first time in a month in their lap.

Villain had a habit of making sure they got what they wanted. They swore to stick to it for eternity.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @dodo-docs @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @justalittlecorrupted @addictedsandwhichaki @quaggasus @vernilliom @sirrsnakesssss

Wanna be on the taglist? This will take you there!

[strywoven-moved]

@theydefy​ asked : ❝ you’ve just seemed … different , is all . ❞ // kylan to kaen !

𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

          DIFFERENT—  Though the comment may’ve been benign , the godling shows what can only be a look of f e a r , as if Kylan’s held a looking-glass to them and all but offered them to look at their reflection - to truly indulge , to truly SEE FOR THEMSELF what sort of new beast they have become ( & they want terribly to turn away from it , to tell him they see nothing , to tell him nothing has changed— ) .  And it is in that unseen mirror they notice that war has done m u c h to them ; BROKEN & ALTERED them in such a way that transfigures them into someone nearly unrecognizable from themself ( their light remains ; their kindness remains ; but their heart , their mind , their soul have all undergone a transformation / an evolution ) .

          Eyes are quick to depart the younger’s face , eager to break the spell and havoc his words have wreaked ‘pon them.  Their hands … Are not their hands any longer , Kaen notices , the softness in them long hewn away by scarring and battle-ready roughness ; there is now an always-there p u l s e of fire lingering ‘neath their flesh and tinging their touch.  Scarred digits clench tight together , a soft sigh leaving them.  “... In what way ?”  A question they’re not quite sure they w a n t the answer to , but an answer that m u s t be heard regardless.

          Gaze rises , peering through the veil of red lashes , giving the impression of someone YOUNGER & QUIETER than the creature they have been forged into of late.  “... Ah’m —” Voice hitches in a way to suggest e m o t i o n coming caught on their words , “Ah’m sorreh.  Ah know Ah- Ah must’ve CHANGED but Ah…”  But you w h a t , sweet doe ?  Stayed the course despite yourself ?  Discarded and destroyed the pieces of you that would not serve someone who f i g h t s and handles war ?  They shake their head ; they cannot bring themself to say they are STILL THEMSELF , that they are still at all WHOLE as they were when first they’d come to Thra and first spun songs with Kylan— It is now so very u n t r u e .  “Ye will love me jus’ th’ same , wun’ ye , Kylan ?  Even so ?”  A few blinks , a few tears springing free and hitting their lap as shimmering crystals , dancing to the ground in solidified sorrow , toppling away from them in delicate , grieving motion.

[kyufiber-moved]

haru needs to get some pants that fit bro . all his pants end above his ankle like is he ok

[wolferine]

Forgiven

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: One-shot sequel to my “Unforgivable” series. After being paralyzed in an accident, Natasha reunites with her lover who caused the accident in the first place.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, language

Word count: 2300

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife @norwaynatasharomanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @nightingalxx @supersourlemon13

AN: This one’s for you, @allhailthelesbian! :)

You do not have to read the previous story to follow this one!

Something shifts in your arms and you instinctively tighten them, feeling a tickle of hair across your nose.

“Y/N,” Natasha whispers, “You squeeze me any harder and I’m gonna choke to death.”

“Huh?” You loosen your arms and open your eyes, finding your red-haired, green-eyed beauty staring back at you.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Good morning.” You close your eyes again and press your foreheads together.

“Ready for a workout?” she asks.

You chuckle. “It’s been a while since I’ve done one of those.”

She traces her finger over your bicep. While you’ve lost some weight in the past few months, you’ve still got some wiry strength, but you know you have some catching up to do. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” she says. “But my legs don’t even work and I’m not using that as an excuse.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh. “Five more minutes?”

“Fine. Only because I need your help getting to the bathroom, anyway.”

“Oh.” Your eyes fly back open. Although Natasha’s been living with her condition for more than six months, it’s still your first week back with her and sometimes you forget her needs are different than before you left. “I can just get up now—” you start.

“It’s fine,” she says, pushing you back onto the bed as you try to sit up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Ask me again in five minutes.” She snuggles closer to you and her breath is hot against your collarbone. You close your eyes again and feel her touch the starburst of a scar on your cheek from where her bullet had struck your face.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“When I fired my gun, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she says. “I just wanted to distract you. But then my bullet bounced off the pole and hit you in the face.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, knowing you’ve done far worse to her. A minor blemish was nothing compared to losing control of your legs.

Ten minutes later, Natasha announces she needs to use the bathroom. You sit up without being told twice and pick her up bridal-style, carrying her into the bathroom. Tony had made some modifications, such as adding handlebars near the toilet and inside the shower and lowering the medicine cabinet for easier access.

“Can you bring my wheelchair in? So you don’t have to keep carrying me back and forth,” Natasha asks as you help situate her on the toilet.

“I don’t mind,” you say.

“But I do,” she says.

Without argument, you move her wheelchair from the bedroom to the bathroom. “Holler if you need me,” you say, closing the door and going to change into a tank top and shorts. When you’re done, you hear water running in the sink and can’t help asking, “Everything okay in there?”

“Uh-huh! Jus’ brushin’ my teef!”

“Okay! Take your time.” You don’t want to be overbearing but you want to be ready to help when she needs it. Tony had talked to you about how independent she was; she insisted on learning how to do everything for herself, not liking the help of caregivers or nurses. 

Obviously, she was more comfortable asking you for help than a stranger, but you knew her well enough to know that she hated showing any signs of vulnerability, even if she really needed help.

Natasha rolls out of the bathroom and you trade spots with her, using the toilet and brushing your teeth. When you come out, she’s by the closet with her back towards you. She has on a workout shirt and struggles to pull a pair of shorts up her legs.

“Do you need some help?” you ask. Tony had told you to always ask first instead of jumping right in.

“Yes, please.” Natasha sighs. The shorts are hooked around her feet. “It’s…It’s a little hard for me to reach sometimes.”

“That’s okay.” You kneel and shimmy the shorts over her knees. 

“Can you pick me up so I can pull them on?” she asks.

“Sure.” You wrap your arms under hers and gently lift her high enough for her to pull the shorts up to her hips.

“Thanks.” You set her back down and help her put her shoes on. “All ready?”

“Let’s go.”

You go down to the Avengers’ state-of-the-art gym, containing every single piece of workout equipment you’re humanly aware of. There are weights up to the ton and a 12-foot deep Olympic-sized swimming pool.

“What did you have in mind today?” you ask as you walk next Natasha. She rolls suspiciously close to the swimming pool and you wish you could squeeze yourself on the other side of her to make sure she doesn’t fall in.

“Leg day,” she says.

“Huh?”

“Kidding!” Natasha laughs when suddenly, her wheelchair catches on the end of a loose pool noodle someone had left out and she launches from her wheelchair into the pool. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, you would’ve cried from laughter, but instead your heart drops to your feet and you jump into action—literally.

“Nat!” you scream, diving in headfirst. Underwater, you open your eyes, letting the chlorine burn into them, and see the blurry shape of Natasha bobbing up to the surface. You swim towards her and when lift your head to take a breath, you find her howling in laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” you ask, coughing up a mouthful of water.

“I’ve been swimming every day since the accident, babe,” she says, doing a much better job of treading water than you. And she doesn’t even have use of her legs. “I’m not going to drown.”

“Well, I might.” Your head dips under and you swallow a mouthful of water. Natasha wraps her hand around your arm and yanks you up.

“Seriously?” she asks.

“Haven’t…swam…in a while,” you choke.

“So, you thought you could jump in and save me when you can barely save yourself?” Natasha shakes her head, but admires your blinding love for her. She drags you over to the wall and grabs the pool noodle. “Use this.” 

You bend the noodle under your arms, grateful for the moment of rest.

“Okay, let’s go do a few laps now!” She paddles away before you can protest. Grudgingly, you kick after her.

***********************************************************************

An hour later, you’re so exhausted you can barely walk and you’re tempted to ask Natasha if she’ll let you sit on her lap while you go back up to your room.

“Shower together?” Natasha asks, and there’s a hint of shyness in her voice.

“Sure.” You’ve already seen there’s plenty of room for the both of you. First, you get Natasha settled into her shower chair before you turn around and take your dripping workout clothes off.

It’s the first time she’s seen you naked since you left. Her eyes trace over the visible bones of your ribs and the scars crisscrossing your back. There’s a burn in the shape of a triangle on the back of your left shoulder, where Hammer had tried to brand you with his logo. Because he didn’t see you as a person, but his property.

Natasha knows that although she’s had a difficult past six months, you had been in your own hell.

You turn towards her and see the sadness in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

She doesn’t say anything and offers her hand, pulling you into the shower. You turn on the water, removing the showerhead from the wall to spray over the both of you. There is nothing sexual in any of your actions as you help each other shampoo your hairs and wash your bodies. However, the closeness is still intimate and comforting.

Afterwards, you both dry off and get dressed, going into the kitchen for breakfast. Falling back into a routine with your girlfriend—even after six months—is the easiest thing you ever did. But even though it’s almost like you never left, things aren’t exactly the same, and you want to make up for the lost time as much as you can.

***********************************************************************

When lunchtime rolls around, Natasha suggests taking you to your favorite diner. You haven’t driven a car in six months, so you’re a little nervous when you go down to the garage, until Natasha insists that she’ll drive instead. She takes you over to her black Corvette Stingray, which never fails to make you whistle.

You help her into the driver’s seat, noticing the specialized hand control Tony installed so she could work the pedals with a hand lever. You make a mental note to thank him again for being so generous in caring for your girlfriend in your absence. When you sit in the passenger seat, it feels just like old times.

“Don’t crash,” you tease.

“Oh, please,” Natasha scoffs. “I can’t even use my legs and I’m still a better driver than you.” 

“Ouch.”

You watch as she expertly maneuvers the steering wheel with her left hand while her right hand pushes and pulls on the handle for the brake and gas pedal.

“You look so badass,” you say.

She looks at you and smiles. “I know.”

“I think I’ll just have you drive me around from now on.” You close your eyes and relax in the seat.

When you arrive at the diner’s parking lot, Natasha skips over the blue handicapped stalls and parks across from them.

“You don’t want to park there?” you ask, pointing to an empty blue stall.

She shakes her head. “Maybe someone else needs it more than me,” she says. “After all, they don’t have you to carry them around.” She tries to make a joke out of it, but you can tell she’s a little embarrassed. It’s also the reason she’s so hesitant to drive her Corvette around: most people who see it assume she’s a jackass trying to take advantage of a handicapped spot.

She’s had people scratch her doors and leave ugly notes on the windshield. One time, before she even had the chance to get out of the car, a group of people had gathered at her door to cuss her out. Their red faces of embarrassment and stuttered apologies when Tony helped her into her wheelchair was something she would never forget.

You get her wheelchair out of the trunk and set it next to her door, helping her into it. Inside the restaurant, the waitress removes one of the chairs at your table so Natasha can sit next to you. You don’t even bother looking at the menu, knowing exactly what you want.

You end up finishing all of your food and Natasha’s leftovers, and she can only laugh at your appetite.

“Hammer didn’t you feed you enough?” she teases.

“I’m pretty sure the stuff he gave me can’t even be counted as food,” you respond.

“Before we go home, I want to take you somewhere special,” she says as you leave the restaurant. “I visit it once a week.”

“Let’s do it.”

She drives you to a high school. But since it’s the weekend, the parking lot is empty except for a few cars. Natasha takes you inside. As you go down the hall with her, she grabs onto your hand.

“You don’t need both hands to roll?” you joke.

“I just like being close to you,” she says. Her wheelchair is at the perfect height that you don’t have to strain your shoulder lower to hold her hand. She directs you into a classroom, and when you step inside, you see some people already there. 

They’re all in wheelchairs.

You suddenly feel angry at Natasha for bringing you here. Was she trying to make you feel even more guilty for what you had done to her? These people were all going through their own pain, and here you were having caused that exact same pain to your own lover.

“Hey, everyone,” Natasha says with a confidence in her voice you haven’t heard yet. “This is my partner I’ve told you all about, Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N!” they chorus. You cringe, wondering how much of yourself Natasha told them. Some of them are like her, paralyzed from the waist down, while others move their wheelchairs around by blowing into tubes or pressing a remote hanging from their necks.

You move out to the hallway and Natasha follows you.

“Why did you bring me here?” you whisper, your stomach churning. You feel like you’ve intruded on something private, something you don’t have the right to be a part of. “What were you thinking—” 

“Please stay,” she begs. “They’re all my friends, and some of them bring their partners along, too. It’s not an exclusive club or anything. We tell stories and learn how to get through things together.

“My condition changed everything for me, but it’s also a change for you. I want to make sure you get the support you need. Because there’s not just two of us in this relationship anymore,” she continues, and you raise your eyebrow. “It’s me, you, and my condition.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m your burden or you’re my caregiver. I’m still the same as I always was. I can’t do everything myself and I might need your help. It’s just a different kind of help than before.”

You kneel and cup her face. “I love you, Nat. I’ll be here for you, whenever and whatever you need,” you promise.

She leans forward to kiss you. “I know.”

And with that kiss, you feel her forgiveness wash over you, cleansing you of the guilt and trauma of what you did. She had already forgiven you, a long time ago. You couldn’t continue to be so hard on yourself if you wanted the relationship to work. 

You know it won’t be an easy journey, and it’s only the beginning, but with Natasha by your side again, you feel completely unstoppable.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I was definitely nervous writing this as I have little experience working with people with paralysis, so I did some research and hope I did it justice! If there’s anything out of place, please let me know. :)

Join my taglist for future stories here! Thanks for reading, and until next time…

[bnhatrashsammy]

You Think They’re Gonna Hit You

Includes: Izuku, Bakugou, Todoroki and my lovely Mina baby!

Warnings: ANGST but with a happy ending bc im baby, nothing too detailed though. Gender neutral reader <3

Mentions of abuse and cursing ofc (its me i always curse so like-)

_____________________________________________________

  You had been in an abusive situation/relationship prior to your current relationship. You had yet to tell your partner.

You two were simply playing around, something very common in your relationship.

You were in his dorm, both of you going back and forth between tickling each other.

Your eyes were closed as you blindly search for his sides, your breath coming out in shrieks and gasps between you laughing so hard.

One you feel your lovely boo move so they’re hovering above you, rather than beside you and tickling the shit out of you, you open your eyes as you try to catch your breath.

However, once you see their position your breath gets caught in your throat, and your entire body freezes up.

They weren’t even in a very threatening pose, their face held a bright and playful grin. Yet, all you could focus on was the hand positioned like it was going to slap you. 

  It was practically coming for you in slow motion, you thought for sure your lovely partner was getting ready to slap you.

  Without even thinking, you automatically flinch, hands coming up to protect your face, your body trembling in fear.

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku’s face changes from playful to concern very quickly, not that you can see from your tightly closed eyes and arms covering your face.

“Baby?” Izuku says softly, leaning back so he’s sitting cross-legged in front of your form. “(Y/N), baby, look at me please.” The utter concern and fear in his voice had you peaking your eyes open, looking between your fingers at the teary-eyed look he’s giving you.

Your body reacts before your mind really catches up to what the fuck just happened, and you sit up, crossing your legs as well and fiddle with your hands in your lap, looking anywhere but at Izuku’s gaze.

‘He’s gonna be so mad- he’s gonna yell and scream- I shouldn’t have reacted- if only I had just-’ Before you can even finish your rambling, terrifying thoughts, Izuku speaks up.

“D-did you think I was gonna hit you?” His voice comes out slowly and softly, but there’s not a hint of judgment. Only concern.

You slowly meet his gaze, continuing to fiddle with your hands. “N-not really you- It’s just what I’m used to so I just assumed-” You hurriedly try to explain before he speaks up again.

“Baby, you’re used to? How could you be used to- who did it? I’ll kill them, I swear!” Izuku leans forward slowly, as to not startle you anymore before pulling you to him, hugging you comfortingly, protectively. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, (Y/N). I promise. If I had known I wouldn't have done it. I'm so sorry baby.” Izuku reassures you genuinely.

Izuku continues reassuring you, comforting you and caring for you softly as you tell him about your past. Obviously you couldn’t spill everything out all at once, there would be more of these conversations in the future. But it was honestly nice. To just be able to get it out in the open, to have him comfort you.

“I will never hurt you, (Y/N). Let me be your hero.” Izuku says after you had cried out all your tears and fell asleep on him. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead, before laying down with you and falling asleep himself.

Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou freezes as the genuine fear he can clearly see on your trembling form. He’s quick to sit against his wall on the bed, pulling you into his lap as he comfortingly pets your hair.

You bury your head in the crook of his neck, a flurry of painful memories causing tears to build up in your tightly closed eyes as you grip onto Bakugou as if your life absolutely depended on it.

“I-i’m sorry- I didn’t mean too-” You try apologizing, but he’s quick to shush you, his voice gruff but gentle in his own Bakugou way.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, dumbass. Jus’ breathe.” Of course, Bakugou doesn’t blame you, but he also feels you thought he was going to hit you simply because of how angry he can be, he didn’t know of your past of abuse.

“I know i'm always angry and shit, but- fuck-,” His voice breaks, and he holds you the slightest bit tighter, more protectively. “I’d n-never hit you, (Y/N).” He tries to keep his voice steady but it breaks again as tears well up in his eyes. “I love you so much, I’d never do anything to hurt you, okay, baby? I swear it- fuck.” 

You continue to grip onto him desperately, opening your mouth to speak even though you know your voice is gonna be hoarse from your crying, “I k-know you would’t- it just made me think about when it did happen and I-I just reacted. I k-know you’d never, Katsu- I’m s-”

“No. Don’t be sorry. Just talk to me. Please?” He says sternly, but giving you the option object, to just stay within his arms protectively.

So you tell him some of the things you had to endure. He drops the name ‘dumbass’, giving you soft nicknames and encouragement to continue when you started crying too much to continue talking.

Aside from his encouragements, and hushing of your apologies, he just let’s you speak what's on your mind. It’s freeing, and honestly you feel a lot better when it’s over.

“Thank you, Katsu. I love you. So very much.” You whisper tiredly as you finish your hours long conversation. Bakugou shakes his head as he continues rocking you comfortingly.

“I'm here for you through whatever, babe. And I plan to keep it that fuckin’ way.” He says, the determination in his voice caused a small smile on your face.

You eventually fall asleep, Bakugou humming gently as he continues rocking you comfortingly. Honestly, you couldn’t be happier in that moment, with the love of your life caring for you with no restraints.

Todoroki Shoto

  Todoroki’s face instantly drops as he watches your reaction. He knows that reaction. He’s had that reaction too many times to count. 

He lays beside you, cuddling into your side, rubbing circles over your sides in a comforting manor as your breathing eventually returns to normal. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” His voice sounds so remorseful, so genuinely hurt.

“It's not you- It’s just muscle memory- I know you’d never actually do anything to hurt me Sho.” Your voice comes out quickly, you turn over to hide into his chest as he rests his head against yours. He moves his hand so it’s rubbing your back soothingly.

“Talk to me?” Todoroki asks, and it makes your heart swell. He’s not the most emotional person, you loved him regardless of that fact obviously, but the fact that he’s offering to listen without you bringing it up first makes you a bit happier.

So you talk, telling him about different situations throughout your life that inevitably lead to the muscle memory reaction. Todoroki didn’t talk, preferring to just listen. He’d switch between rubbing your back, or running his hands through your hair, occasionally kissing along your hairline or kissing your cheeks softly as you vented.

Once you finish talking, genuinely too mentally and physically exhausted to continue, Todoroki speaks up.

“None of that was your fault. Those people- they were at fault. You had never done anything wrong, (Y/N). Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me enough to talk about this. You’re so strong and brave. I'm so proud to call you mine. I love you, (Y/N). Thank you for allowing me to help.” He ends his mini speech by placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

You smile at him tiredly, before pulling the blanket from the end of the bed bed and covering you both with it. You snuggle into his chest, leaning your head up to place a kiss on his jaw, before allowing sleep to take you.

Mina Ashido

Mina pauses at your reaction, confusion taking over her features before the realization slowly comes to her.

“Babycakes, no, i’d never-” She says quickly, jumping to straddle your lap, wrapping her arms around you reassuringly as your thoughts turn dark.

“It’s okay, cupcake, I’m here for you, jus breath, I've got you.” She reassures as your wrap your arms around her, cries slowly leaving your throat while she nuzzles the crook of your neck.

Before you can even open your mouth in an attempt to apologize she starts talking, “Don't you dare apologize. It’s not your fault, love.”

You can’t help the chuckle that interrupts your sobs, she knows you through and through.

“You want to talk about it, babycakes? I’ll listen. Let me be here for you please,” She pleads, just wanting to calm your painful sobs, just wanting to put a smile back on your perfect face. Her own eyes start to tear up, and she sniffles quietly.

You hug her a bit tighter, nodding your head. Once your tears calm down a bit, you tell her. You relay some of the events of the past that have scarred you to this day.

And with everything you say Mina continues to reassure you, kissing all over your face and hair. She continues holding you, not letting up for even a second. It means the world to you, just the fact that she’s being serious about it for you. She’s genuinely trying for you, and it makes a small smile light up your face as you finish retelling your past.

“There’s that gorgeous smile I love to see!” She says, a bright grin lighting up her face which just causes you to smile more.

“What would I do without you, Mina.” You say lovingly, as she wipes your eyes for hopefully the last time of the night.

Her smile turns loving as she gives you a small, gentle kiss.

“Let’s not find out, babycakes. You’re just gonna have to be stuck with me.”

Well, you couldn’t complain with her on that note.

[night-fallz]

It's getting better . . . right?

A (very) brief look into how Damian’s life with the League was.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

I'm confused (Part 3)

Damian wanted to spend the whole afternoon in the shower. He wanted to forget everything.

He needed a break.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions for him. Everything was so confusing.

It was too much.

Although his brothers were becoming more tolerant towards him. It still felt forced.

And to make it worse, things were only getting worse at school.

Today was a good example of that.

His peers usually ridiculed him in private. Somewhere they couldn’t get caught.

They’ve never mocked him in such a public space before. Especially not a public space where adults could return at any time.

It was different.

Damian hates how he allows his mind to wonder how the outcome might’ve been different. If the librarian walked in on what they were doing to Damian, would she have tried to stop it?

Or would she just turn a blind eye?

He hoped that it wasn’t the latter. The librarian was one of the only adults in the facility that Damian could somewhat tolerate.

Out of nowhere, he felt the water become hotter and cursed.

It felt like he was back in the League and they were throwing lava at him again. He was supposed to learn two lessons during that exercise.

One: Learn how to withstand the heat.

If Damian could survive being pelted with lava, he could survive or at least tolerate any high temperature.

And if he got gravely injured or didn’t survive during the lesson? Well, there’s a reason that they had the Lazarus pit.

Any burns or scars that Damian had would dissolve. As if they never existed. It was the one thing he liked about the pit.

Without it, Damian’s whole body would be littered with scars. From the intense training sessions, he’s gone through to the punishments that he has suffered from. Scars were something that he was accustomed to.

Two: Learn how to dodge

If he didn’t want his skin to burnt because of the lava, then he better evade the numerous attacks. It didn’t matter if Damian got hit: there was a sequence on how they launched it. And they wouldn’t stop until all the gallons of lava were empty.

All the injuries that Damian received during that training session might’ve brought him a lot of pain, but it worked.

In the end, Damian believes that the torment that he had gone through was worth it because he had acquired something from it.

He could only hope that it would be the same here.

—————————————————————

Getting out of the shower was harder than Damian thought it would be. He had quickly gotten used to the boiling drops that crashed onto his skin and instantly accepted the pain.

He deserved it after all.

After a few minutes of staring at his sunken reflection, he forced himself to go back to his room.

He didn’t expect to see his siblings lounging around like they owned the place.

Damian hesitated, not knowing what to do.

“Do you guys require my assistance?”

All three heads immediately turned towards him and Grayson’s smile brightened.

“Hey baby-bat.” he greeted, “Any plans today?”

Why do they keep asking that? What do they want from me?

Damian slowly nodded, “Actually,” he lied. “I do.”

The dark-headed trio glanced at each other and Todd raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure?”

No

“Yes.”

He wants to stay home.

“So you aren’t lying?”

He is.

Damian forced a scowl on his face, “No, I’m not.”

The older bat kept pushing, “Are you positive?”

Damian kept a straight face, trying not to let his annoyance show. “Definitely,” he walked forward avoiding the spots where his brothers resided, and crossed his arms. “You guys can leave now.”

Drake walked towards him and Damian had to force himself not to flinch.

Please don’t punish me. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“So you wouldn’t mind telling us what your plans are?”

Damian raised an eyebrow, “I don’t need to tell you anything. It’s none of your business.”

Why can’t they just leave me alone?

“We just want to get to know you better, baby-bat.” Grayson gently assured. “You’ve been here for around a year and we barely know you.”

Damian tutted, “And who’s fault is that exactly?”

His. It was his fault.

Damian knew that it was his fault that no one wanted to get to know him. He was the unwanted one. The one no one expected.

He was an Al Ghul.

A murderer.

He has so much blood in between his fingers and he hasn’t even reached the age of eighteen.

Drake scoffed, “You didn’t exactly make it easy for us to get to know you.”

Of course, he’s right. Drake is always right.

“And am I supposed to care about that?” Damian retorted, “I don’t need plebeians like you to understand me. People like you aren’t-”

“Damian.” Grayson’s stern voice cut through the room like a whip. “Enough.”

“But he was- I didn’t-“ Damian’s voice sounded pitiful in his ears. “Drake was the one who started it.”

The teen scowled at him, narrowing his eyes at Damian. “Why am I not surprised that you’re shifting the blame to me?”

“I’m not shifting the blame towards anyone!” Damian screamed in frustration, trying to get his brothers to understand. “I'm telling the truth!”

The emotions that trashed inside of him for weeks have finally begun to still. As if even they’ve grown tired of trying to figure everything out.

Nothing made sense anymore.

One moment, his brother would act like how his mother would describe a family. Caring, loyal, and loving.

Then the next, they would remind Damian of how the League treated him. Cold, worthless, and unworthy.

Weren’t they supposed to be the good guys?

“What’s going on here?”

Damian turned and saw his father’s muscular frame towering over the door. The tone of his voice was calm, but Damian could see how his blue eyes seemed to rage, demanding for answers.

Damian forced his face to become neutral as he tried to explain the situation. “Father, I was ju-”

“You know, the usual.” Drake interrupted him, “The demon child acting like a brat, throwing his weight around like he owns the place.”

“I was not-”

“Damian.” his father’s voice was coated in the familiar intonation that Damian could never recognize. Was it disgust? Annoyance? Anger? A mix of all? “We’ve talked about this.”

No, they haven’t.

His father barely acknowledged Damian unless he was reporting a mission, or if he did something wrong. Sadly, it was mostly the latter.

If it wasn’t for all the training that Damian’s received, he would’ve flinched from the way his father looked at him. His gaze was filled with disgust. As if Damian was nothing but a piece of gum stuck in his shoe that he couldn’t remove.

As if he was a burden.

But isn’t that what he was?

His father gave him a final glance, “I’m benching you from being Robin until we get this attitude of yours under control.”

He heard someone mutter an “If that’s even possible.”

When Damian heard his father’s footsteps become inaudible, he forced his head up.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Grayson dragging Drake out of Damian’s room. When their eyes met, the oldest Wayne only sighed before shaking his head at Damian.

He knew Grayson well enough to know what his I-am-very-disappointed-in-you looked like.

“You should apologize.”

“What?”

“Apologize,” Todd slowly repeated, as if he was talking to a child. “You should apologize to Tim.”

“Why would I need to apologize for something that wasn’t my fault.”

Todd shut his eyes and clenched his fists before walking past Damian, muttering to himself.

“I knew we shouldn’t-”

“-bothered to try.”

“-deserved everything that happened-”

That was the last thing Damian heard before he heard his door slam shut.

Suddenly, the events of the night have finally plummeted itself towards Damian’s head.

No more Robin.

Damian felt his chest tighten and his heart seemed to race at speeds that could rival the Flash. Everything around began to spin and he couldn’t help but let out a small, frightened breath.

What was wrong with him?

His feet seemed to tremble and he fell on the floor. The room began to heat up.

The sun was against him. It was like all it wanted to do was burn Damian’s skin until there was nothing left.

Was he sweating?

Damian was definitely sweating. Why was he sweating? It’s the middle of Winter.

He couldn’t breathe.

Is he going to die?

He didn’t even get a chance to prove himself to his father.

Though, his mind couldn’t help but contemplate the possible scenarios of when they find him in the middle of his room, dead.

Would his father cry? Or would he just be relieved? Relieved at the fact that he didn’t have to watch over Damian anymore. Would they be happy that the Wayne family was finally back to being normal? Now that the smudge of brown was gone from their picture-perfect portrait.

“Calm down.” He heard a calming voice mutter, “Deep breaths.”

“Ummi?” Damian’s voice sounded muffled as his vision began to fade into the darkness, “Are you taking me home?”

A silhouette bent down to give Damian an embrace.

He didn’t feel anything but he still heard his ummi’s voice. “Deep breaths,” she repeated.

Damian forced himself to focus on the light as he followed the instructions. He couldn’t fail his ummi. She was the only one who ever loved him for him.

In

Out

His head began to ease up. The pain was slowly going away.

In

Out

He could feel his legs, it no longer felt like a mountain was on top of them.

In

Out

His vision slowly cleared up. He could see shapes begin to form as the light steadily took over the darkness.

He was going to be okay.

“Ummi?” his voice cracked.

There wasn’t anyone there.

He felt tears form on the corner of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

If he cried, it meant that Damian was weak. That he was useless. And he wasn’t.

Right?

His brothers probably hate him again because of his stupid little outburst. He was so stupid.

His father banned him from being Robin, so he probably won’t be able to see his teammates for the time being.

Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut?

He was all alone again.

He didn’t have enough energy to move to his bed, so he hugged his knees closer to his chest as he tried his hardest to keep his tears at bay.

Everything was back to normal.

Note:

(Damian’s emotions have been building up for quite a while now. He’s confused and frustrated. A dangerous combination for someone who wasn’t allowed to express how he felt throughout the beginning of his life.

And from my experience, it’s the smallest things that just make a person break. So when Damian was blamed for something that wasn’t his fault, he just lashed out.

Sorry for the lack of updates from the past two weeks. School sucks. It’s like my teachers barely give me any work throughout the school year just so they could dump everything in May.

Hopefully, this chapter didn’t disappoint you guys too badly. And if it did, give me some nice constructive criticism in the comments. I love reading them, no matter how harsh.)

[mooniefics]

— insubordination

pairing : eren jaeger / fem reader

word count : 5.7k

tags : porn w plot, eventual smut, angst-ish

warnings : nfsw, non-con/extremely dub-con, impact play, descriptions of blood and injury, ooc eren being very mean

summary : you were nothing in his eyes, and he was nothing in yours. that's how it was meant to be, that's what commander hange had assumed when they assigned you such a simple role. but people are unpredictable, and sympathy for the wicked can make you do some pretty stupid things.

— originally posted 1 / 4 / 21 on ao3 —

this task was arguably your least favorite part of the day.

it was too quiet, eerily silent when you walked down the steps, and that one uneven brick always seemed to trip you up when you weren't looking out for it. balancing the dishes on the serving tray also wasn't the easiest, and it was all the more demeaning when he would be waiting for you by the bars, eyes as empty and uninterested as ever but still fixed on your every movement.

you were a soldier, not a waitress, and a part of you wondered why they didn't just make the marleyans do such a belittling task rather than force you to lower yourself down to such a level three times a day. but you knew it was because he'd be less hesitant to strangle the life out of any non-paradisian before he'd go after someone from the island, and you had enough self defense training to withstand any escape attempts he might make.

but eren jaeger seemed docile when he was in his cage, and that fact eased you just the slightest bit when you descended the stairs to his cell that day, toting a sandwich and a glass of water on the tray for him. you thankfully caught yourself before you tripped up on that uneven last step, breathing out a little sigh of relief about not having to deal with split food and broken dishes along with the humiliation of screwing up such an easy task. you didn't want to give him another reason to look down at you, another excuse to see you as even lesser than he already perceived you as.

he didn't seem to care much for a select few from his graduating class, and you seeing that you were trained with the 106th training corp, you hadn't had any sort of direct interactions with him until you were assigned to bring him his food for the day. at first, commander hange had insisted on doing it personally, but as the workload increased and the luxury of free time dwindled, the duty was passed onto you.

you had honestly been terrified when you first faced him, hoping that those bored yet sharp green eyes didn't catch the way your hand trembled when you fit the key into the lock, opening up the slot in the door that was just big enough to slide the tray and its contents across to him. he didn't say much, no hellos or thank yous exchanged, just a brief glance at your face and a muttered "you're new" as he took the tray to his bed and sat, silently eating his meal and sliding back the tray and empty dishes for you to take back up with you. and that was how it usually went, no fuss from either end, just a silence that was barely occupied by the scrapes of his utensils on the plate and the occasional clearing of his throat.

you expected another quiet interaction as you stepped across the old brick floor, keeping an impassive expression even after seeing that he was waiting for you at the bars, wearing nothing besides a pair of trousers that sat low on his hips. you ignored his uncharacteristically intent gaze, setting the tray down on the ground and fetching the ring of keys from your uniform, struggling to not let your eyes wander over him.

something felt different, an unusual feeling of trepidation that clung to you as you picked out the right key, unlocking the serving slot and slipping it back into your pocket. besides his evident lack of a shirt, there was nothing odd about today, nothing that should make you feel the agitation that was creeping up your spine. you swallowed down your nerves as you set the tray down like you always did, sliding it over onto his side of the bars. he always seemed much taller when he was up close like this, and even with his relaxed posture he still towered over you. his robust frame only served to make him more intimidating, muscles flexing beneath the pale skin littered with past scars. you didn't expect to feel the warmth of his fingers brushing over yours when he reached out to take the tray, suppressing the flinch that threatened to make you jump away from his contact, looking up to meet his steady gaze.

"thank you." he said, the slightest of smiles perking up at his lips at the sight of your surprised expression.

despite having the tray in his grasp, he didn't pull away from his place before you, drawing a few fingers down the side of your hand, not taking his eyes off of yours. you gave a gentle push of the tray, urging him to take it, not wanting to back down from what you assumed to be a test of your courage.

"hurry up and eat, jaeger. i don't have all day." you told him with much less authority than you would've hoped, but felt the smallest bit of pleasure from how he blinked at you, most likely not expecting you assertion.

"you know, you can call me eren."

that was the last thing he said before he let his gaze fall to the tray, warmth receding as he took his meal to his bed to eat. that was the most words you'd ever said to one another, arguably the most startling encounter you'd ever had as well. he seemed almost happy to see you, any show of emotion besides indifference was magnified by how rarely it appeared, but you reminded yourself that this was no reason to let your guard down. in fact, this was only more reason to keep a closer eye on him.

he could be planning something, you wouldn't put that kind of scheming past him, you'd heard the murmurs across your unit about how isolated his desires were from the greater good of humanity. he'd lashed out at his superiors as a cadet, he'd rebelled against the judgement of the former commander, fought the levi ackermann for selfish, narrow-minded reasons.

but, really, couldn't he escape whenever he wanted? freedom was just an injury away for him, he could shift into his titan form whenever he pleased and completely demolish the cell and everything above it, run off to see whatever corner of the world he wished to or murder whomever he had on his hit list. perhaps he was merely toying with you, the boredom of isolation driving him to tease the soldier who'd never once gotten the chance to see past the territory just outside the walls despite being a scout. you were surprised that he hadn't gone crazy from being locked up in a cell with just a bed, a sink, and a small barred window, not even a journal or a book for entertainment, although he was unhinged enough to have to be held here, so you assumed that it somehow balanced out in some odd way.

you told yourself to just take a deep breath as you stood by and waited for him to finish his meal, chalking up his behavior to him being an eccentric man with an endless amount of free time in his hands. he didn't speak any more when he passed back the tray and dishes, only offering another faint smile that didn't quite meet his eyes before returning to his bed, allowing you to latch the lock once more and make your quick exit up the stairs, thankfully out of his sight and not dropping anything when you tripped up on that uneven step.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"eat with me."

he didn't react to your incredulous look from behind the bars, steady stare staying trained on your face, fingers brushing just over your hand. it took you a moment to find your voice. "no."

"why not?" he replied easily, either entirely unaware of his aloofness or intentionally putting up the front of detached confusion.

"you're in there for a reason, eren." you said, giving a gentle push forward to the tray, "now eat."

it had been just over a week since your first conversation, he'd made no attempt to initiate another in the following days until just now. but he wasn't showing the hint of contentment he'd allowed to peek through on his features the last time, just the cool, uncaring demeanor that you'd become accustomed to as he delivered such a ridiculous request.

"i don't want to eat alone." he persisted, punctuating the sentence with his own nudge of the tray back to you, "what could i do? even if i tried to escape, the guards outside would catch me before i made it far." there were no guards outside, but you didn't tell him that. "you'll have wait on me to finish anyways."

you didn't reply back, not wanting to speak and risk him hearing your voice wobble, or let a nervous stutter slip. you found it strange how his displays of humanity were more startling than when he lacked them, the image of his more mechanical self that you'd grown used to, the one that you were alright with leaving in a cell alone for days, being shattered by the slight smiles, the naivety that came in him even thinking that you would comply with his desires.

"i could stand away from the door if it'd make you feel better, you don't even have to sit next to me. i just.." he turned away, lips turning down in an almost sheepish frown. "i just want to feel like someone is in the room with me."

you were almost afraid of this new emotion from him, having to force your brow to not knit into an expression of surprise and your mouth to not fall open at this incredibly unfamiliar territory. you felt that you were good at reading people, good enough to sniff out most false claims and facades that were put up by the people you were close with, but you weren't close with him, not in the least. all you knew of him was his name, his designation, his special abilities, and that he seemed to like soup the best, considering that he always finished the fastest on the days you brought it down for him. how convenient that you had a bowl for him today, alongside a small loaf of bread and the usual glass of water. but looking over his face, you couldn't help but feel your resolve crack just the slightest bit at the sight of him.

it made sense that he was getting lonely down here, the only people that were allowed to speak to him were you and the commander, and seeing that no one had gotten reamed for making an unauthorized visit, you were sure that the small group he was acquainted with weren't sneaking out to give him some company. and there seemed to be genuine emotion gleaming in his usually dull eyes, cheeks and ears flushed with a soft red that warmed his features, a kind of reaction that you found to be hard to fake. you didn't exactly lose sleep over his imprisonment, but you weren't a monster, you didn't discount the mental toll that this kind of solitude could have on a person.

"move away from the door."

the words slipped out of you before you had a chance to think about them anymore, slightly eased by the fact that he actually followed your order and stepped back as far as he could. you picked the ring of keys out of your pocket, finding the one that unlocked the door to his cell and slowly pressing it into the keyhole, letting out a small breath of alarm when you heard the inner mechanisms unlatch.

you couldn't help the way your eyes darted over to him, half expecting him to come  running to shove past you and make a mad dash out of the barracks. but he stayed right where he was, not moving even as you pushed open the door and stepped in, trying not to turn your back to him for too long as you eased it shut and tucked the keys back into your pocket, taking his tray and setting it at the foot of his bed like he always did before returning to your place at the door, giving a small nod to let him know he could move.

he was relaxed as ever, nearly smiling to himself as he took a seat, as opposed to you, who's back was stiffened into the straightest your posture had been in weeks, clenched hands that were becoming clammy with sweat. you knew exactly why you were getting so worked up over being on the other side of the bars that had giving you that sense of security now only giving you the sense of being caged in with someone who was really more of a stranger to you than anything. but he seemed more than pleased to have you in his vicinity, and the look on his face eased the chill rattling up your back, threatening to make you look more like a cornered animal more than a stoic soldier.

he was halfway through his soup when he reached for the bread, raising it to his lips to take a bite before he stopped, glancing over to you with a sudden intrigue. you watched as he broke it in two, not minding the crumbs that fell down onto his shirt and lap, holding the larger looking piece out to you. "here. it wouldn't be fair if you just had stand there and watch me enjoy my meal."

if your eyes widened in surprise, he didn't react to it, only adding a slight wave to his outstretched offering. you forced your foot forward, nervous to approach him but wanting to accept what felt like a sort of peace offering, a wordless assurance that he meant well. for the first time, his mouth drew back into a smile, a full, genuine, almost charming smile when you took the bread, hoping he didn't catch the way your fingers trembled as you stood there, unsure of whether to focus on the warmth of his gesture or taking a bite like he seemed to be expectantly waiting for you to do.

you didn't realize how dry your mouth was until you bit off a small chunk, chewing much longer than you usually did before you swallowed it down, not tasting anything but feeling your heart skip at the sight of his happiness. you retreated to your place at the door, finishing off the bread, watching him quickly wrap up his own meal and get everything back in order on the tray. he didn't usually do that either.

you felt an uncomfortable squeeze in your chest when he stood, gathering the tray in his hands and walking up to you with slow steps. he made sure to keep a good distance away from you, probably not wanting to give you any reason to be anymore afraid that you already were. you took the tray when he held it out to you, and he stayed holding onto it with you just a moment longer than he needed to, gleaming eyes wandering over your face in that little bit of time before he released his grasp, stepping back to where he originally had when you first entered and mimicking your small nod to tell you it was alright to go.

you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips, a shy, nervous little close-lipped smile that came with the blush darkening on your cheeks, nudging open the cell door with your foot and exiting without a problem. and as you fished the key ring out of your pocket and found the right one to slide into the keyhole, he took a seat at the foot of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, gazing up at you as you secured the lock back into place.

"thank you."

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you found yourself going into his cell a lot more often than you probably should've.

the first couple days you stood at your place by the unlocked door, seeing how with each passing day you exchanged more and more words, the conversations becoming less stiff and hesitant. you only went in at lunch, since in the morning there were a lot more people milling about after breakfast, and in the evening the guards that stood outside by the stairs actually came to ensure he didn't get out during the night. the afternoon was the only time where everyone had already gone to their designated workstations, and besides the stray person or two that happened to pass by during that time, no one was around to catch your massive insubordination of orders.

you'd eventually began to sit at the foot of the bed, the tray putting a comfortable distance between the two of you as you chatted. he would offer you bites of his sandwich, or a piece of his bread like he did the first time you shared a meal, always giving you a little something despite your insistence that he kept it for himself, saying that "it would be unfair to starve his guest". speaking casually was surprisingly easy, passing stories of your training days and your initial struggles with omni-directional movement gear back and forth, letting him tell you about his time across the ocean and appreciating how intently he listened to you lamenting about the severe lack of exposure you had to the world outside the walls.

you couldn't admit it to anyone else, but you had begun to grow fond of him. the initial expression of cool apathy completely melted away when you were with him, the features of his face which you had initially found stern becoming somewhat handsome when he was giving those little smiles, a breath of a chuckle when you said something he found funny, or the focused expression he would take on when he nodded along to the stories from your childhood you had to offer. perhaps under different circumstances, you might've even wanted to see if things could go further than easy banter between two friends, biting your tongue when you thought about slipping in something about how he could be your guide when you could finally go out and see the world.

there was no way they would keep him in here forever, the effort to cover new ground and widen the army's frontiers was going swimmingly from the looks of it, so maybe there'd be a day in the future where you could walk about with him, away from the brick of his cell and without the bars separating you. that thought had been especially nice to think about as you sat on your calves across from him on the bed, your half of today's bread nearly gone as you listened to him talk about what he would get up to when he was a child, running around his hometown by himself and trying to sneak into taverns to catch a peek at the barmaidens.

"you know, there was this one particular girl that i remember being head over heels for," he mused, pausing to lick the bit of soup that had swiped across his lips from his last spoonful, "one time she came to my home for my father to check out her arm, said she'd gotten grabbed by one of the more unsavory characters that hung around those bars. i was so angry i almost went out looking for him myself."

you giggled a bit at the mental image, a wide-eyed little boy with the big dream of saving his childhood crush from the evil world. "isn't that sweet?" you quipped with a smile, quickly eating the last bite of bread in your hand and dusting off the crumbs onto the floor, "what'd she look like? she had to be beautiful to catch your eye." you tried not to let your disappointment in letting that slip show as you waited for his reply, mentally noting to have a bit more verbal control the next time.

"well, she actually kind of looked like you."

you felt your face pink at that, trying not to show your embarrassment as you cleared your throat. "r-really?" that was all you could manage, only feeling even more flustered by the slight grin he gave.

"really. you're obviously not identical, but there are a couple of things that remind me of her when i look at you." he shifted his position a bit, the space between you narrowing as he leaned over the tray to get a better look at your face. "your eyes look like hers, a different color, but the same shape. and you have the same freckle right here."

he pointed to the place on your face, finger inches away from you but still the closest you'd ever been to touching aside from the light brushes of your hands when you passed the tray to one another. "and now that i'm really looking, you both kind of have the same hair."

he was much closer than before, both of your knees at either end of the tray because of how it'd been pushed, realizing that you yourself had been unconsciously leaning forward. the warmth of his hand brushing across your cheek was a bit startling but definitely not unwelcome, thumb catching a stray lock of hair to tuck behind your ear.

"yeah.. you do." he murmured quietly, but you were more than close enough to hear it, able to pick out the brighter flecks in his brilliantly green irises, feeling his soft exhales fanning across your lips.

you couldn't believe you had let this happen, let yourself end up like this with the man you were supposed to just bring food to and guard from a distance, but at the same time you couldn't pull away, couldn't force yourself to part from the now low-lidded eyes gazing at you with such an unreadable depth, just barely obstructed by the hair that had slipped out of the messy style he had it drawn up in today, full lips parted and just a breath away from pressing onto your own. and so you let your eyes fall shut, feeling his hand slip further into your hair, fingers working deeper into it like they were meant to be there. but instead of a kiss, you felt his grasp in your hair suddenly tighten, barely able to let out a small gasp of pain before he drew your head to the side and smashed it into the brick wall next to you.

pain exploded across your skull, white spots blotting out your vision when your eyes flew open, unable to hold yourself up when he threw you down on the bed, already feeling the warmth of blood seeping out of the broken skin. you could faintly hear the clatter of metal and the smash of porcelain on the floor when he kicked the tray to the ground through the ringing in your ears. your first attempt to speak came out as almost a wheeze, mouth numb with shock as you tried to force your leadened limbs to move, writhing uselessly as he began to wrestle off the belt of your jacket, flipping you onto your stomach as soon as it came undone and ripping the jacket off of you with one strong pull to the collar.

"hel—help !" you wailed almost incoherently into the empty hall, knowing for a fact that no one was there but hoping there was somebody, anybody that could possibly be wandering past the building outside would come to save you.

all your combat experience meant nothing now that he had you sprawled out under him, straddling you as he tied your hands behind your back with your own belt, laughing coldly at every half-hearted squirm and small sob that left you. the wound on your head sent an unbearable ache through your entire body, beginning at your temple and searing through every nerve, each rough jostle from the body on top of you only adding to the pain.

"thank you for being such a kind guard," he drawled, audibly shaking your jacket to figure out which pocket the keys were in, "you really are great company, and such a sight for sore eyes."

your spotty vision was only further obscured by the tears that were now dripping onto the sheets. "p-please, d-don't hurt me..!" you cried, seeing him toss the jacket down on the floor, most likely having pocketed the keys for himself. he hauled your hips up by the waistline of your trousers, seeming to take joy in the way you whimpered at the strain you felt in your arms.

"do you really think you're in the place to make demands?" his voice was dripping with arrogance, breath hot on the back of your neck as he spoke into your ear, "the one who was stupid enough to fall for such a simple trick? the way i see it, it's almost like you were asking for this to happen."

you furiously shook your head at that, ignoring the way each thrash sent an ache echoing through your skull, teeth clenched in pain as you tried to force the words out. "n-no.. please, n-n-no—"

he didn't care much for your frantic tears or stammered pleas, already tugging your pants and underwear down around your trembling legs. "but you're worth a few moments of my time, all stupidity set aside. you really do look like that lovely barmaiden from my hometown." he paused to grab at the soft flesh of your exposed thighs, spreading you open as far as your position allowed it to, revealing the wetness of your involuntary excitement. "and look at that, already all nice and wet, just for me."

another pained sound escaped when he firmly grabbed your hair again, keeping the side of your face pressed into the bed, barely allowing you to hear him undo the zip of his pants and the ruffle of him pushing them down. he thrust into you without warning, drawing a hoarse whine from the burn of the sudden intrusion, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted to try and steady your strained, uneven breaths.

"relax, relax." he demanded, nearly growling as the heel of his palm pressing down on the back of your neck.

it wasn't as if this was your first time, but the people that you'd been with before we're always gentle with you, patient, asking infrequent but sincere "are you ok"s and "you're ok, right"s that quelled any unease about being in such a vulnerable position. but the hazy calm you'd had begun to associate with sex was completely absent in this moment, the empty space instead filled with the hiccuped sobs that refused to stay down in your chest, the throb of your bleeding scalp that was only worsened by his large hand grasping a fistful of your hair, beginning to clump with sticky red blood that was just starting to soak into the white sheets of the bed. you couldn't understand why that fear that was permeating through you, the peril that gripped your racing heart so relentlessly, the thought of not knowing whether you could assure your survival or not was only making you more and more excited for him.

he had taken up an unforgiving pace, driving small, broken moans from your lips, tense muscles gradually relaxing to accommodate all of him. it was wrong, you should've been fighting right now, keeping up your screams for help, anything to prove to yourself that you wanted to escape, but you found that it felt so terrifyingly good to give up under him.

"eren.." you barely managed to enunciate his name before your words devolved into more breathless whines, pins and needles pricking at your now numbing fingers that were losing circulation from your bindings.

"fucking pathetic," he spat, free hand moving to abuse your clit with rough, uncoordinated rubs, "you're just fucking begging for it, aren't you?"

he punctuated each abrasive word with a deeper thrust into you, dragging you over the edge before you even had the chance to realize how close you were to cumming. you cried out at the heat tearing through every inch of your sore flesh, nails digging into your palms as you slumped back against him, saliva dripping out of your open mouth and onto the bed.

the emptiness of him pulling out of you made you whimper, more strained sounds of protest escaping your throat as he flipped you onto your back, struggling to find a bearable position with the way your hands pressed uncomfortably into your spine. for the first time you were able to see the wild look in his eyes, his lips drawn back into more of a snarl that bared his teeth rather than a smile, even more of his long, dark hair having fallen from his hair tie. you could hardly take in the finer details of his image, the symptoms of the concussion you likely had already settling in around the edges of your vision, remaining sight starting to flicker out into darkness.

"wake up. hey." the sight of his hand rearing back and the sharp sting of its impact on your cheek were disconnected but registered all the same, forcing a pained groan out of you as you blinked up at him, trying desperately to dispel the black specks pulsing across your vision as you recovered from the jerk of your head being knocked to the side.

you could already feel the redness forming on the skin of your face, the rough hands that had just started tugging at your shirt impatiently tearing it halfway open, sending buttons flying off in every direction as he grinned down at you.

"you really threw a wrench into this whole plan of mine." he forced down a few chuckles, wiping some of your blood on his fingers off on your ruined shirt, "i should be making my way to the east exit right now, but all i can think right about it seeing that pretty fucking face you're gonna make when i make you cum again."

his fingers dug into the pliant flesh of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he pushed himself right back into you, clearly relishing in the way you whimpered out baseless pleas and curses. your legs squeezed around him instinctually, hips bucking up to meet his despite the small whisper in the back of your mind still begging for you to maintain a shred of dignity and push him away.

he kissed messily at the base of your neck, barely able to maintain the mimicry of intimacy for more than a few seconds before he was biting at the exposed skin, sometimes only just brushing his teeth over it but sometimes hard enough to print them into the bruising flesh. you could barely hold your eyes open enough to see the cracked ceiling above you, feeling the heat of his breaths over your shoulder and the audible clap of his skin meeting yours with every rough thrust. you chose to focus on the familiar pressure welling deep in your stomach, letting your eyes roll back into your head and your shaking legs squeeze tighter around him, only acknowledging his teeth breaking your skin with a whine in favor of just letting yourself hit that impossibly high peak once again.

he growled out a low string of curses into your neck, movements becoming less coordinated and even rougher as you came around him for his second time, not having enough lucidity to be ashamed of how easily release came. he continued even as your legs became heavy in his grasp, writhing and crying out dissipating into the occasional twitch, barely able to register the end of the entire exchange until you felt the liquid heat spilling into you. it only halfway made up for the lack of his cock in you as he pulled away, not bothering to try and bring you back to consciousness while he shoved himself back into his pants.

you roused on your own just a few moments later, gasping in quick little breaths and rolling yourself onto your side so you didn't crush your numb hands and wrists anymore than you already had, blinking away the blur of tears and the spottiness of passing out as you craned your neck to look up at him, wincing when you drew an injured area of skin taut. you just caught him tugging on your jacket, which had always fitted you loosely and was now fitting him snugly, his face flushed but having returned to his usual cool, impassive demeanor. but when he turned to look down at you, you could see a flicker of pride cross his features, the slightest smirk playing on his lips.

he said nothing as he walked right out of his cell, shutting the metal door and locking it behind him, the sound of his footfalls growing fainter down the hall and disappearing entirely as he ascended the steps. you would guess that it took around an hour for someone to come down and find you. by then, the slow stream of blood had slowed and clotted, and the belt around your wrists had loosened enough to allow adequate blood flow but still too tight for you to wriggle out of in your weakened state. you were sure that you looked pretty worse for wear; half naked, covered in injuries of varying severity, messy with a mix of blood, spit, tears, and cum.

but instead of thanking your lucky stars that you didn't have to spend the whole night trapped down there, you simply let your heavy eyes fall back shut as the soldier, a boy your age that you didn't know well but had gone out on a few mission with, promised to come back with a spare key and take you to the infirmary before running out in a panic. you didn't know whether you wanted eren jaeger to successfully make it out or be apprehended and sent right back here after they'd cleaned you up. would they interrogate him about how he escaped? would he tell them about you and the role you played in it?

after all was said and done, the only thing you were entirely sure about was that you'd probably never be allowed to go near him or participate in any assignments involving him ever again. and even after everything, a part of you just didn't want to believe that this was the end for the two of you.

[aki-draws-things]

Whumptober 2021

Prompt: 02. Talking is overrated

Fandom: MCU

Ship: winterhawk

Extra: tw coma

An anon asked for some winterhawk... Well, here some.. It's not much, but I hope you might like it... 💖

Bucky knew pain, he had lived a long life, and even when his mind wasn't his anymore he knew pain. It was a constant, one he did not want, but a constant nevertheless.

He knew it from nazi's torture, he knew it from falling, from his missing arm and from the scar around the new arm, over his shoulder. He knew the pain from the Chair, from surfacing memories and repressed feelings. And he knew how to inflict pain too. Any concept of pain, Bucky was, unfortunately, aware of.

But that pain, that day, was worse than anything before.

The sky was falling, raining fire like an apocalypse from some film. Of course it wasn't literal fire, it was from some crazy spaceship of some crazy alien. He'd never get used to it. He said the same about Clint Barton and his continuous talking over the comms. It didn't take long for bucky to realize he talked through a sub-frequency, linked to Bucky's comms only. He wanted to groan, to reprimand him, tell him to concentrate on the fight, no, it wasn't a good time to ask him out, goddamn!

Clint laughed and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat. No, not in battle, stay focused.

"but if I asked another time, you'd say yes?"

"I said not now, Barton. There are aliens trying to invade us."

"Yup, darling, can see them. Just arrowed three of them. Gotta get that arrow back though, I can't risk running out, can I?"

Bucky didn't imagine him winking, why should he--- actually, could people wink with they're voice? Because that definitely sounded like Barton winked at him, and it was getting distracting.

"you still haven't answered." Clint said again. Bucky could hear fights in the background from the comms, soft yelling, and thus and--

"--shit."

What? What now?

"Barton?"

He didn't get an answer at first, he tried to ignore the dreadful feeling building up in his stomach, cold and dark. An arrow passed right next to his cheek, it barely grazed him and Bucky turned, following it and seeing how it flew through the open armor, and I'm the head of a second alien behind the first. Both of them too close to Bucky, and he didn't notice them. He thought of blaming Clint for that, him and his distracting talks, but Clint was the one who saved him so--

Something crashed behind him, it crashed loudly and without a human sound but the breaking of bones.

Bucky was aware if many types of pain, psychological and physical ones, but this one was new, and worse. He felt his own heart drop at the sight, broken limps bended unnaturally, blood pooling around the head, drenching the suit on the chest, trickling from his lips, and nose, and ears, down his chin and neck. Bucky dropped on his knees next to the body and suddenly wanted nothing more than to hear that annoying voice through his comms. Silence was-- cold. Cold like the cryo freeze hydra kept putting him into. Cold as the snow when he fell, cold as--

"hey Buck... Are those tears?" he gasped, and sobbed, looking ag the barely opened eyes. It was a miracle he was alive, but there he was, and yes. Yes, of course he was crying.

"what were you thinking? Saving me and falling down a building? Again? What's wrong with you and buildings?"

He brushed his hand over the cheek, hoping that wouldn't hurt him, where could he touch the archer without causing more pain, actually?

"eh... Not lucky." Clint stretched a smile, frowned, and squeezed his eyes when the smallest movement caused a burst of pain through his skull. His most definitely fractured skull. He slowed his breathing and bucky wasn't sure he did it on purpose, as training or if his body was just giving up. He hoped-- no, he didn't dare to hope.

"wouldn't answer me. - Clint muttered, and bucky almost burst out an answer, like that would magically make everything alright, heal him, save him. - I thought... Showing you I'm serious would work better. Actions are louder."

Your bones hitting the ground were definitely loud, bucky almost said. He didn't.

"doesn't matter..." a hand brushed bucky's cheek, wiped the tears away, some bones were still intact then... Little consolation. He grabbed the hand, held it carefully in his. "'m jus' glad you alright." he slurred, his eyes closing, laying still as bucky tried to wake him again, as he screamed and begged. As he whispered that yes, yes he would go on a date with him, but only if he could pick the place.

Only if Clint woke up again.

"Bucky..."

"no." Bucky's voice sounded almost threatening, he knew what Steve was about to say, and they were alone in the room, how easily could he jump at him and shut him up. How easily his neck could snap if he dated to say it again.

"bucky, just listen to me... You can't lock yourself here, you need to get out, sleep, have a proper meal, a bath."

Bucky growled, he pointed at the bed, with enough room for him to curl into, at the tray and empty plate on the table, Natasha came four times every day with food and coffee, and milk, and anything bucky may ask her, at the bathroom door, there wasn't a bathtub, but he always liked showers better.

Steve sighed, that approach was unbreachable, and he couldn't disagree with Bucky's answer, he indeed had everything he needed.

"buck... Look, I know, I understand."

"do you? Is your pretty lover in a coma after saving your ass? Don't think so cause he's staring at me from the door. No Stevie, you do not understand."

He wouldn't make a scene. He could, and he knew some people that would help him clean up after and ask no questions, but no, he wouldn't. He was... Better.

"it's been three months, Buck. Tony said--"

"I don't care what Stark said! I don't. You get him off of that and he--"

He stopped, froze, trembled, hands closed in tight fists that almost collided with Rogers' face. He couldn't even say it, let alone imagine what would be, what would happen.

"he's gone already."

"get out."

"Buck... You should let him go."

"Get. Out. Steve."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry Buck..."

"OUT!"

His metal hand collided with the wall and he locked the door.

"you said actions were louder than words..." bucky murmured, his fingers brushing gently over the knuckles of the hand on his lap, he ignored the woman moving quietly on the other side of the bed, checking machines and vitals, humming quietly under her breath.

"a very loud action would be waking up... That wouldn't speak, clint... That would scream. And I'd take you screaming everyday if it means being at your side."

The woman left the bed with a last check to the IV line, she put a hand on bucky's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"you're not wrong, Winter." she said smiling down at him. "talking is indeed overrated most times, but I reckon it can make a difference sometimes. Times like that. So... You know, keep talking, call him back home." she pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

"heard Jen? Clint... Clint you need to come home. Come home, so I can answer you. You pick the place, you've earned it, just--please."

[yikesharringrove]

we all already know billys unexplainable rage for Steves abusive ex, we all know whenever steve has a really bad day all billy can think about is breaking his exes nose with one punch, how a bit earlier steve had to go through some old stuff for his therapist and there were a bunch of pictures of his and his ex in an old beat up box, how in all of the pictures you could see a bit of fear in steves eyes as he stood stiff next to this man who claimed to love him, how there were a number of photos in that box from hospital trips, broken wrists and bruises around his neck. but still every night billy holds steve so gently, rubbing and kissing whenever he can cause he cant even imagine why anyone would ever want to hurt him

tw for past abusive relationship and descriptions of bruises and such

for @crispysteviebeans

-

Billy knows the nature of Steve’s last relationship.

He knows from the way Steve flinches when Billy comes home. The way he never says no to Billy. The way he said you can hit me if you want. I know i can be a bother the first time they fought.

But seeing the aftermath, the psychological scars Steve now carries, and seeing this,

it’s a whole different energy.

Pictures.

A whole box of them.

Every picture Steve had of his last relationship.

Billy doesn’t think there’s a single one where Steve looks happy.

He looks stiff, and his eyes look faraway.

His boyfriend looks perfectly happy, though. Which Billy hates.

But he also doesn’t think there’s a single photograph where Steve isn’t actively injured.

A broken wrist in a splint here, a cut from broken glass on his head there.

But nothing quite made Billy as mad, made him feel so fucking white hot as the hand prints.

Around Steve’s neck. Clear as day. Hand prints.

Billy stared at them.

“That’s what would happen if I talked back.” Steve’s voice was soft. He wasn’t looking at Billy, wasn’t looking at the picture. “He would tell me to shut up and if I didn’t...well. He’d make me.”

Billy’s hand was shaking.

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s voice cracked as he spoke.

“Baby, why are you sorry?”

“You’re, you’re mad. I’m sorry, I don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want, I can do this later.” Steve began cleaning up the mess of photographs, dumping them back in the box. Billy almost reached out to take his wrists, but he’s seen fingerprint bruises there too in these photos.

“Steve, I’m not mad at you. I want you to take about this. I want you to be open, and to work past it.”

“You just, you looked mad.”

“I’m fucking livid. I’m so goddamn pissed off that he could do this to you. That he could have you, as sweet, and beautiful, and fucking perfect as you are, and hurt you.”

“I don’t know, Billy. I can be a fucking nightmare sometimes.”

“Steve, this is not on you. He used your love, and your vulnerability, and he abused you. Yes, abused you. You need to call it what it was.” Steve was staring at the floor.

“I know that. I knew it the whole time, really. But I thought, no one else is gonna love me. And he said he did. And if being loved meant being hurt sometimes, that was okay.”

“But you-”

“I know it’s not, now. But, sometimes I, I forget. Because he had me, I was so well trained, and it’s hard to just, step out of that.”

“Trust me, Pretty Boy. I know.”

“I know you do, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound-”

“You didn’t. You didn’t make it sound any way. Just want you to remember that your feelings make sense. I know those feelings. I have those feelings.”

“I know.”

“And when I tell you that I love you, I mean it. And I mean real love, the kinda love that doesn’t come with violence and yelling.”

“I know that too.”

“Jus’ makin’ sure.” he pressed one hand to Steve’s shoulder.

He didn’t flinch, which was good.

Sometimes after talking about his ex Steve would get, jumpy.

“You wanna head to bed? Cuddle for a bit?”

Steve just nodded.

Billy stop up, holding out his hand to pull Steve with him.

He spooned up behind Steve in bed, petting over his side, rubbing his hip gently.

How anyone could hurt such a perfect, bright person, was absolutely beyond him.

[tiny-slasher]

Thomas Hewitt x Reader | Coffee Shop AU | Part 2

“Some more coffee shop AU thomas hewitt?👉👈“

“i've read that coffee shop au you wrote for thomas multiple times and i need more please!!!“

*✧���ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･

You'd started to get strange looks from your coworkers. They never explicitly said so, but you knew why. You'd gone to Luda Mae's coffee shop every Wednesday and Thursday evening, spending more money on coffee than you had in your entire life, just to catch a glimpse of him.

He was so large, barely fitting in the space between the workstation and the counter you paid at. His hair was tangled under the straps of his mask, and his clothes were always stained with coffee. The intenseness of his eyes and constant furrow of his brow should've frightened you, and yet you found yourself lured by him instead. He always seemed surprised to see you, no matter how many weeks you'd continued your pattern, as if expecting you to just disappear one day. You were hoping that eventually the shock would fade, and that he'd seem relieved instead.

Upon arriving early at the coffee shop one Thursday afternoon, you were disappointed to see that Thomas wasn't there. You hadn't meant to show up so soon, but you'd felt so angry at your coworkers that you'd decided you couldn't stay at work for a second longer than you had to. Still fuming, you walked into the shop amidst the dwindling crowd of customers. The fact that they were all in such a hurry to leave, knowing Thomas' schedule themselves, had your blood boiling.

Your thoughts were broken by a familiar snap of fingers in your face, "Oi! What's gotten you all in a hissy fit, huh?"

The man at the register was Thomas' uncle, Charlie, who had introduced himself the third time you'd showed up in the shop. He was...not the type of person you would generally find yourself in company with, but he was nice enough when he wanted to be. Even though you hadn't breathed a word of your infatuation with Thomas, he and Luda Mae seemed to be very aware of it. You weren't sure if it made you giddy or uncomfortable when one of them was smiling at you, happy to see you in their shop again.

"What's the matter, darlin'? How bout I get'cha a cup, alright? The usual?" Luda Mae asked from behind Charlie, making her way to the coffee machine before you could respond.

You sighed and apologized, pulling out some money from your pocket. Luda Mae shook her head, "Nah, it's on the house, today. You look like ya need it."

Charlie groaned and turned to her, "Mama, ya can't be givin' out free drinks to them every time they show up!"

"It's my coffee, and I'll do as I please!"

You tiredly smiled at the two, shoving your money in the tip jar while they were looking away. Sitting down at a table nearby, you rubbed your temples in an attempt to rid yourself of a frustrated headache. You didn't realize that a cup of coffee had been set in front of you until a warm, gentle hand rested on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Luda Mae watching you in concern.

"I'm alright," you sighed. "Just had a long day at work, 's all."

She hummed, sitting down in a chair across from you. You sipped your coffee, sighing at the deep, silky, smooth flavor that hit your tastebuds. Despite your coworkers' very unkind opinions, their description of the coffee was shockingly accurate. The thought of them brought a frown to your lips.

"Oh, is the coffee no good? The machine's been a bit fussy today," Luda Mae sent a glare towards her coffee machine.

"No, no it's delicious! I was just..." You sigh and rub your eyes. "I just need to take a breather, I think."

"Well, alright. But if ya need anything, jus' holler, alright?" she patted you on the back before walking back behind the counter.

You tried to distract yourself with the coffee, but no matter how delicious it was, it wasn't strong enough to rid you of the memories in your head.

"His name is Thomas!" you'd bit out right before taking your leave for the day. "Not Leatherface!"

The disgusted glances they'd sent your way the entire morning had been bad enough, but hearing your coworker's unsavory nickname for him had been the final straw. You'd been tempted to punch each of their faces in, appalled that grown adults were even capable of such childish gossip and name calling, but settled with slamming the door on your way out. And now, your anger was growing again at the ever dwindling crowd in the coffee shop.

Now you understood why Luda Mae and Charlie had been so quick to dismiss you the first time you'd spoken to them, and it hurt to think about. How often must Thomas have been ridiculed or teased in his life for his mother and uncle to just assume that everyone automatically disliked him? That everyone had something nasty to say? The thought alone that anyone would purposely hurt Thomas, just because he was different, made you see red.

You jumped out of your skin when you felt a nudge at your shoulder, looking up to see Thomas standing over you. You were not used to him standing so close to you. He lifted his hand in a small wave, which he'd started doing after the fourth time you'd shown up to the shop, and you reciprocated.

"Hey, you're early!" you smiled at him.

He just shrugged, lifting his hands as if to try and say something with them, but then lowered them. Butterflies filled your stomach as he sat down across from you, his knees barely fitting under the table. You didn't want to seem like you were staring, but it was hard not to. He was just so handsome!

Still, you knew you were apparently in the minority of people who thought so. Everyone who talked about his looks always had to bring up his mask, and the scars on his arms. Someone had even started a rumor about what his face looked like underneath, and the descriptions only grew more and more elaborate as time went on. Even the smarter people that you knew were buying into these stories, and it frustrated you to no end.

"Hm?" you asked.

Thomas gestured if you were alright, and your cheeks heated as you realized you'd gotten lost in your thoughts again. You apologized, assuring him it was nothing, when Luda Mae walked over and placed a cup of coffee in front of Thomas.

"Here ya go, darlin'. Charlie and I will be leavin' in a few minutes. You might have a bit of trouble with the machine...it's been actin' a bit strangely," she told him, and then turned to you with a smile. "I suppose I'll see you next week?"

You nodded, "Hopefully."

Her smile grew wide, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. She gave you another pat on the back, kissed Thomas on the forehead, and then left into the back room. Thomas blushed at his mother's antics, and you couldn't help a smile from forming on your lips.

"You two behave!" Charlie yelled at you before walking into the back room himself.

You nearly choked on your coffee, but managed to compose yourself. The flush on Thomas' face was a lot darker than before, and he huffed in Hoyt's direction. You could feel his distaste rolling off of him in waves, and it was one of the many times you wished Thomas spoke. You always wondered what he was thinking. Was he funny? Was he smart? You got the feeling that he was sarcastic, if his eye rolls were any indication, but you never knew for sure.

Thomas sipped his coffee, alternating between looking at it and looking up at you. He always seemed like he wanted to say something to you, but of course, he never did.

"Have you ever tried to learn sign language?" you asked him.

Thomas slowly shook his head, his fingers twitching as if wanted to add on to that statement.

"Well, we could learn together, if you want!" you suggested, nervously.

Thomas blinked, his eyes burning into yours, and then he nodded. His mouth opened, and then slammed shut again, as his fingers twitched in abandoned attempts to communicate. Frustrated, Thomas stood and walked behind the counter, and then came back with a notepad and a pen. Your heart fluttered, excited and a bit nervous. You'd spent so many weeks wanted to know more about him, and now you supposed you'd get your chance.

So what if he wasn't behind the counter like he was supposed to be? It wasn't like many customers showed up anyway. You'd be surprised if he got more than two or three, and even then they'd probably leave in a hurry.

Seemingly agreeing with you, Thomas sat down and began scribbling on the notepad. Turning it towards you, you saw the phrase "I might learn slow" in very sloppy handwriting. Clearly, his penmanship wasn't the best, but it was legible...and that's all that really mattered.

"That's okay! I don't mind!" you said excitedly.

He nodded, his concern somewhat put to rest, and he clasped his hands on the table in front of him. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he clasped his hands in front of him, unsure what to do. Hearing his voice for the first time did strange things to you, especially with how gravelly and soft it was. It made you wonder what he'd sound like speaking, if he could.

The bell over the door rang, signaling the entry of a customer. You turned to see who'd entered, and saw Thomas get up from the corner of your eye. He walked behind the counter as the man who'd walked in slowly made his way forward. His stance revealed how nervous he was, but he managed to order a cup of coffee without much fuss. He glanced in your direction, giving you a look similar to the ones your coworkers had given you.

Your gaze fell to Thomas as you played with the rim of your now empty coffee cup. You tried not to ogle his backside for too long, in case he looked your way, but you couldn't help but spare a few glances. It didn't take him long to finish brewing the drink, hurriedly paid for by the man ordering it. The man was out the door when you blinked next, and you rolled your eyes.

Thomas made his way over to you, grabbing your cup before you could protest. At first, you assumed he was going to toss it in the sink, but were surprised to see him going to refill it. Of course, you ordered the same thing every time you showed up, so he didn't have to ask what you wanted.

You jumped when you heard a loud bang, and the smashing of ceramic on the tile. You turned to see Thomas recoil from the coffee machine, grunting in what you could only assume was pain. The machine rattled and hissed until Thomas punched the off button to it, holding onto his right hand as though it had been broken.

You immediately stood from your chair and ran over, uncaring of the broken ceramic on the floor, and took his hand in yours. It was bright red, scalded by the hot water of the machine. You dragged him over to the sink and turned on some cool water, making sure it ran over the worst parts of burn. It wasn't until you'd assessed his burn to be fairly minor that you realized how close you were standing to him.

You were holding his wrist in your hands.

You turned to him, noticing how heavy his breathing had gotten. His eyes were wide as he stared at you, and you were sure yours were as well. One of your hands began to travel a bit past his wrist and up his arm, trailing over the thick hair that lay there. Swallowing, you shook your head to gather yourself and looked back at his hand, turning the water off and gently drying it off with a towel.

"It doesn't look too bad...might hurt for a couple of days," you said, frowning at it.

You looked back up at Thomas, still holding his hand in yours. All the air in your lungs vanished at the look he was giving you, one of disbelief, shock, and...something else. You trembled, frozen in place. His chest heaved, as if having to remind himself how to breathe.

He yanked his hand away when the backdoor opened up to reveal Charlie.

"Sorry, forgot my wallet-" he paused, looking at the two of you with a raised eyebrow. "Weeeell, what've we got here? I thought I told you two ta behave!"

Thomas sighed and grabbed a broom to clean up the mess on the floor. You tried to move out of his way, picking a piece of ceramic out of your shoe that had wedged itself there in your haste to help Thomas.

You cleared your throat, "The machine burned Thomas' hand, so I was just helping..."

"Damn thing! Knew we should've just kept the ol' one!" Charlie whacked the machine with a glare, shaking his head. "I told Mama not to get all dazzle-eyed at how shiny it was, but did she listen? Nah."

He grumbled as he walked over to grab his wallet from under the counter, shoving it in his pocket as he shook his head at the machine. Thomas dumped some of the broken cup pieces in the trash, not even wincing when he accidentally brushed his burnt hand on his apron.

"Guess we'll have to pull out the old one, the way the good lord intended," Charlie huffed before turning to Thomas. "Don't even bother making coffee with this piece of shit, we'll just close for the night."

Thomas stopped sweeping and glanced in your direction, his hesitation catching his uncle's attention. Charlie gave him a long look, eyebrow raised, and then followed his gaze to you. Recognition filled his gaze, and your cheeks grew even warmer than they already were.

"Well, if ya wanna stay open all night, be my guest," he drawled, making his way back out. "But I don't wanna be cleanin' no suspicious stains tomorrow, ya hear me?"

Thomas stomped over and ushered him out the door, and you heard Charlie laugh obnoxiously. Thomas spared a glance at you, clearly embarrassed, and then went back to sweeping. You decided it might be best to give him a bit of space, so you began to walk out from behind the counter.

Your heart rate increased exponentially when Thomas' arm wrapped around your stomach from the front, stopping you in your tracks. His grip on you was strong, and your hands instinctively grabbed his arm, feeling the unevenness of his skin where all his scars were. You wanted to ask him about it, but didn't want to drag up any bad memories.

You turned to him, surprised, and he let go to point down at the floor. A few inches from your foot lay a rather jagged piece of ceramic. The odds of it making its way through your shoe and into your foot were extremely unlikely, but clearly Thomas thought otherwise. His brows were furrowed in concern, searching you for any signs of pain.

"O-oh, thank you Thomas," you laughed awkwardly. "I guess I should probably just stand still then."

He nodded, huffing out a breath that resembled a laugh. You backed away a bit and stayed put, letting him finish his work. You definitely did not ogle his backside again when he crouched down to gather everything up. Once finished, he turned back to you as if to say something, but then shook his head and walked back over to the table. You followed him, surprised when he picked up the coffee his mother had made him, and offered it to you. Your heart swelled and a strange sort of a feeling settled in your stomach when you realized he was trying to make up for the refill he wasn't able to give you.

"No, that's alright, if I have any more coffee I'll be up all night," you smiled at him, gently pushing his cup back towards him. "I guess I'll just have to come back when you guys get the coffee machine working again."

Thomas nodded, satisfied with your reply, before reaching down to the notepad on the table. Scribbling something down really quickly, he tore the paper out and handed it to you. You laughed at loud when you read what it said, covering your mouth with your hand.

"IOU 1 coffee - Thomas"

"I'll put this to good use, don't worry," you thought for a moment. "You work in the back the rest of the week, right?"

Thomas nodded, curious as to why you were asking.

"If I come tomorrow," you hypothesized. "Would you come out and make me a coffee?"

Thomas' cheeks reddened, and he played with the strings of his apron. He looked away for a second, and then around at the empty tables, and then finally back to you. Seeing your hopeful expression, he nodded.

You beamed at him, throwing your arms around him in a hug before you could think of doing otherwise. He jumped, his arms hovering out as if they didn't know what to do. Realizing what you'd done, you began to pull away, only to have two large, and warm hands tentatively settle on your upper back. He was so warm, and his embrace was so gentle.

How could anyone think he was a monster?

You smiled up at him, and he let go of a breath he'd been holding a bit too long. You knew you should leave, since you would need to get up early the next day, and there was no reason for Thomas to have to keep the shop open when he couldn't make coffee. Yet, you found yourself hesitating, comfortable in his arms. He seemed to return the sentiment, his grip on you tightening in a barely noticeable way. The two of you stood there for much longer than you probably should have, reluctant to pull away from each other.

Eventually, you made your way over to the exit, with the door held open by Thomas.

"You take care of that hand, alright?" you stressed. "When I come back tomorrow, it better be on the road to recovery."

Thomas rolled his eyes, but smiled at you with such fondness, you found yourself burning. You told him goodbye, parting ways for the evening, relishing in the way he watched you leave.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Well, back so soon?" Charlie teased. "You know it'd be against company policy for me to let'cha out back where Tommy is."

"I actually came to redeem this," you replied, holding up the piece of paper Thomas had given you. "To go, please."

Charlie's grumbled as he pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. Snatching the paper out of your hand, he read what was written, and his eyebrows raised. Snorting in amusement, he folded his glasses back up and gave you a once over.

Without a word, he walked over to the back door and slammed it open, yelling out into the other room, "TOMMY! GET OUT HERE! AND QUIT GIVIN' OUT COUPONS!"

If you tried to hide the joy you felt upon seeing Thomas, you failed miserably. The smile on your face seemed to be contagious, since Thomas returned it twofold. Neither of you paid any mind to the whispers of the other customers, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

Luda Mae invited you to dinner while you waited, earning a grumble from Charlie about 'being a freeloader'. You'd agreed, earning an excited and nervous glance from Thomas, who gently placed your coffee in your hands. You smiled at him, confirming that you'd see him later. Waving goodbye to the three of them, you exited the shop to head to work for the day.

It wasn't until you were about to toss the now empty to-go cup in the trash that you noticed a hastily written note on the side.

"Have a good day ♥"

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

PART 1