#this man will pull up some obscure shit out of nowhere that i have been planning for months

[lizzstarkiller]

Happy thinking abt how What if confirmed my headcanon that Hela isn’t Frigga’s daughter

[esamastation]

Part twenty-nine of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight

-

Rude releases a breath when he sees the door leading to the helipad opening and Hewley and Sephiroth finally exiting. He's not terribly thrilled about having to chauffeur a man so fresh out of metal breakdown - especially with the way Reno is cackling in his earpiece - but at least the man is officially out the building.

Now he just has to get him off it, and they'd be good, the building would be secure.

"Oh man, I am so glad that got caught on video," Reno giggles in his ear. "Nothing against the Professor personally, but hoolyy shit, it was downright poetic."

Rude sighs, watching as Hewley and Sephiroth stop to talk by the door - too far to be heard over the helicopter rotors and too obscured by their positions for accurate lip reading. "Perhaps we should be more concerned with Sephiroth's health."

"The man's walking and talking and brushed off Hewley's offer for a Curaga," Reno says. "If he wants to be bleeding internally, that's his problem - all we need to do is get him out of Midgar."

"And then keep a watch over him in Wutai."

"Yes, and that, but nowhere does it say we need to nurse him into health too," Reno says. "Just get him and Hewley in the air and out of here before Hojo realises he's leaving."

"Hn," Rude answers, not looking away from Hewley and Sephiroth and not relaxing until they finally approach the helicopter and Hewley stoves away their blades.

Rude has seen Sephiroth personally a number of times - they often serve together as bodyguards for the President, Rude sent in by the Turks and Sephiroth called upon by the President, because the SOLDIER looks good in papers. So most of the times Rude has seen him had been him being annoyed, resigned, and bored.

The Sephiroth that awkwardly enters the helicopter looks a little queasy and embarrassed - but also excited.

Hewley hands Sephiroth a headset and pulls another one on himself. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" He says over the headset.

"I'm fine, Angeal - I promise I don't have internal bleeding," Sephiroth answers, indulgent and looks around. "... There isn't a seatbelt in here, is there?"

"What's a seatbelt? No, never mind," Hewley sighs, sounding a little exasperated. "Sephiroth, you threw up blood! That's not normal."

"Maybe I just bit my tongue and swallowed some blood before, it's fine -"

"Some blood - it was a lot of blood!"

"Barely even a litre -"

"A litre! Of blood! You would've had to have bitten your tongue clean off to swallow that much!"

Sephiroth sighs. "Angeal, I swear I didn't bite my tongue off -"

Well, he sounds fine, Rude decides, and after making sure the helicopter is secure and there's no one else on the pad, he takes off. "Phase two complete," he reports to Reno. "The big guy is off the building."

"Sweet," Reno says. "I'm off then - meet you at the airport."

"Roger that," Rude agrees, bringing the helicopter above the Shinra Building and then turning it towards the airport. Below them the city whirls around, its lights leaving streaks in Rude's vision.

The bickering in the backseat takes a pause as Sephiroth peers outside in apparent amazement. Then Hewley continues to poke and prod at the man, and Rude pretends to tune them out - all the while listening to every word. Mostly it's Sephiroth trying to convince Hewley that he isn't in some kind of acute organ failure or about to hack out a lung. Hewley isn't very convinced.

"You're very nonchalant about this," Hewley says dubiously. 

"Trust me, it was bad blood, it's better out than in," Sephiroth answers, craning his neck to look down through the window. "Oh wow…"

"Bad blood. That's what you said to Hojo," Hewley points out. "Like it actually means something. What do you mean by bad blood?"

Sephiroth doesn't answer, pretending to be utterly preoccupied by the view.

Hewley sighs. "Sephiroth, please. I'm really concerned - if there's something wrong, you should tell us -"

That makes the other SOLDIER react. "Oh, please, spare me the power of friendship speech -"

"I absolutely will not," Hewley snorts. "If it's the only thing that gets you to talk about this, I'll even throw in sincere emotions."

Though jokingly said, it seems to be an effective threat, judging by Sephiroth's disgusted expression. "You're an evil man, Angeal."

"Yes, how dare I be worried about my friend, how utterly unforgivable. Now please tell me why you throwing up blood isn't a health concern."

Sephiroth sighs. "I… it's hard to explain."

"Because you don't know."

"No. Because the terminology doesn't exist," Sephiroth mutters and then sighs, looking outside again. "Before I was interrupted, I was attempting to, uh, align my internal energies properly, and repair some of the damage done to my system previously. It's a delicate process and can go horribly wrong if interrupted, which is exactly what happened. As a result of the interruption, my internal system went wildly out of alignment, which caused some issues. I fixed those after, as much as I could, and what I threw up was essentially… waste produced by the progress."

Rude wishes, not for the first time, that there was a way to record stuff said on board a helicopter. Thankfully, judging by Hewley's expression in the mirror, the man doesn't understand what Sephiroth is saying any better than he does.

"Internal energies - you mean your MP?"

"MP," Sephiroth repeats and hums thoughtfully. "That's part of it, I guess."

Hewley shakes his head. "So your… MP is out of alignment?"

He sounds confused, and Rude can't blame the man. He didn't know MP could even have an alignment.

Sephiroth is quiet for a moment, looking away. "Tell me, Angeal. What is MP? Where does it come from, where in your body does it reside  - how is it produced?"

"Uh. It's just an intrinsic quality people have? Which increases the more you use it - and with Mako exposure? I don't know, I guess I never thought about it," Angeal admits. "You'd have better luck asking Genesis."

"Hmm. Is he coming to Wutai?"

Hewley shakes his head. "I don't know, but there's no shortage of missions to be completed there. Still, Sephiroth. That was a lot of blood."

"I'm not throwing up blood now, am I?" Sephiroth says. "I'm fine, Angeal, I promise. Hopefully that was the worst of it."

Hewley doesn't look particularly reassured. "Hopefully?! Wait, you don't mean to say you're going to continue with this… alignment stuff?"

Sephiroth hums noncommittally and looks outside the window again. They're getting to the airport now.

Rude blows out a breath. "It's time to land," he informs his passengers and hopes Reno wouldn't take too long to catch up with them. Maybe he would have some idea what the hell Sephiroth is on about. If not, then he'd at least pretend he did.

Rude is with Hewley on this one, though. Sephiroth intending to continue with his alignment practice with the risk for further… misalignments… It didn't sound good.

Interesting though that Professor Hojo clearly had no idea what his son was doing either. Whatever it is, it isn't anything Shinra Science had figured out. Hmm.

Something to add to Sephiroth's file, Rude muses, and brings them to the ground.

[jwonsociety]

another year with you ♡

yang jungwon x gn!reader est. relationship | fluff | 1.0k | no warnings!

a/n: happy new year everyone!! here's to a great 2023 🥂

You weren't sure why you allowed yourself to get dragged to this party.

Actually, that's a lie. You knew exactly why this happened. A few hours prior, Jungwon had suggested that you two go to a New Year's celebration hosted by one of his close friends. "I know parties aren't really your thing," he'd said, "but it'll be fun, I promise!" Once he had punctuated his plea by batting his infuriatingly adorable eyelashes, you knew there was no way in the world you could've declined.

Your boyfriend was right, after all. The party was a lot of fun. You spent the night laughing with friends you hadn't seen in a while and being thoroughly entertained by Jungwon and Sunghoon's abstract rendition of Born This Way by Lady Gaga during karaoke. The couple hundred videos you had of it in your camera roll were certainly proof of that.

So, yes, you were having a great time. The only issue was that midnight was in approximately one minute, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Clearly, he couldn't have gone far -- Heeseung's apartment wasn't terribly large -- but the mass of people gathering to watch the countdown on TV was making it hard to find him. Excited chatter filled the room as well as the thrum of music blasting from the stereo. You tried standing on your tiptoes in order to pick him out in the crowd but were unsuccessful in your efforts. In search of assistance, you turned to the girl standing to your left.

"Wonyoung," you asked, raising your voice in order to be heard over the commotion. "Have you seen Jungwon?"

She furrowed her brows pensively. "I think I saw him near the kitchen? Not entirely sure, though."

You nodded. "Thank you!"

She supplied you with an encouraging thumbs up. "Go find your man!"

Steered by Wonyoung's directions, you ventured towards the kitchen -- a task which turned out to require some serious evasive maneuvers. You ducked under rogue elbows, awkwardly shimmied in between flirting partygoers, and cringed when one particularly sweaty man brushed up against you. A nervous glance at the TV revealed that now only 30 seconds remained until January 1st.

Once you reached your destination, your eyes scanned your surroundings. The room was obscured by darkness, illuminated only by the sporadic flash of the nearby television. Where was he? Worry began to creep into your mind. Suddenly, the room filled with everyone's voices shouting in unison, causing you to startle.

"Ten!"

Shit. Your heartbeat began to quicken and a girl wearing light-up sunglasses pushed past you.

"Nine!"

You made it to an uncrowded spot by the window. Its glass stretched from the floor to the ceiling and offered a view overlooking the city. Lights pulsed across the skyline like a giant heartbeat.

"Eight!"

You glanced back out into the mass of the party. Somehow, Sunoo had ended up on Niki's shoulders.

"Sev--"

"Y/n!"

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice. Whirling around, your gaze landed on a boy clad in a fuzzy white sweater, chestnut brown hair falling onto his face in disheveled strands. A wide grin stretched across your face. Jungwon.

"Six!"

He grabbed your hand, leaning in close so that his mouth was right next to your hear. "I've been looking everywhere for you, y/nnie."

"Five!"

"Not my fault you disappeared," you giggled.

"Four!"

He pulled away so that you two were face to face. Fuck. He was gorgeous like a sky painted pink by a sunset -- even though you had seen it a million times, it was still just as marvelous as the first.

"Three!"

Jungwon looked at you, eyes twinkling. "Would you do me the honor--"

"Two!"

"--of being my New Year's kiss?"

"One!"

You had never nodded so eagerly in your life.

"Happy New Year!"

In one gentle motion, Jungwon placed his left hand on your waist and the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in. The moment your lips met his, the deafening cheers of your friends faded into blissful obscurity. The only sound that filled your ears was the roar of your heart as you leaned into his touch. His grasp was soft on your hips, holding you close as if to ensure that you wouldn't be separated from him again. You grinned into the kiss, hands snaking up his neck before settling in his silky hair. His cologne smelled sweet and warm and you reveled in the way it completely took over your senses. Greedily, you never wanted his lips to part from yours.

But, much to your disappointment, Jungwon lingered only for a few more moments before pulling away, his eyes settling on yours. "Happy new year, baby."

"Happy new year," you replied, voice breathless. "I was worried I wouldn't find you."

The corner of Jungwon's mouth quirked up. "I was worried about that too. There's a lot of people here, you know."

Your face flushed as you remembered that yes, in fact, there were a lot of people here, and they all definitely just saw you kiss your boyfriend. As embarrassed as that would normally make you feel, at this moment you really couldn't seem to care. Not when Jungwon was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His dark eyes were like their own universe, teeming with stars dazzling with supernovas. They gleamed with a sort of fondness that made your heart burst. Out of all the boys on this Earth, this one was yours. And you were undoubtedly his.

"Got any New Year's resolutions?" you asked, absentmindedly combing your fingers through his hair. You relished the way he leaned into the touch like he was completely spellbound by you.

"Just one."

You tilted your head. "And that is...?"

He softly dragged his thumb across your cheek, moving in to close the distance between the two of you. When he spoke, his breath ghosted warmly against your lips.

"To spend another amazing year with you, my love."

Midnight had come and gone, yet Jungwon pulled you in for another kiss anyways.

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Punk Princess

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Next Part)

Gareth is getting really sick of his shit, Eddies pretty sure.

He knows that Gareth had been hoping for something more to come out of the DnD session, but Eddie counts the entire thing a massive win in his book because he finally got a really good reaction out of Steve. The glazed over look in his eyes when Eddie called him Good Boy is, like permanently seared into the back of his eye lids. 

Eddie finally feels like he’s getting on equal footing in this flirtationship with Steve and he’s practically high off of it.

“Billy comes back to school today.” Mack whispers, throwing his arms across Eddie and Gareths shoulders as they make their way through the halls. Eddie feels a white hot anger, swirling around with dread in his gut. Steve’s face had just started looking like himself again, and Eddie had no idea if Billy would try to start something.

That question gets answered really fast, as the three of them round the corner, and shoved against the wall with an arm pressed to his windpipe is Billy Hargrove. Steve’s face is pressed close to Billy’s ear, whispering something, the red eyeshadow smoked around his eyes giving a sharpness to his face. He looks down right murderous, and Eddies only a little ashamed to admit it’s turning him on. Steve’s got a knee pressed between Billy’s legs, effectively pinning him fully to the wall before he’s suddenly shoving off him and backing up, spitting on the ground next to Billy’s feet, and Eddie can just make out a new split on Steve’s lips. 

What is with this guy and fighting, Jesus.

And why is it so hot?

Tommy’s stepping up and shoving Steve’s chest when they get close enough to finally hear what’s happening.

“You’re fucking deranged Harrington.” Tommy spits, still shoving at Steve. The laugh Steve lets out is deep, and a little bit terrifying, and unfortunately has Eddie adjusting himself in his pants.

“Keep out of it Tommy. I wouldn’t want to have to rearrange your pretty face too.” The tone he uses is the most fascinating thing Eddie’s ever heard, the threat is clear, but the slight flirtatious lit to it gives Eddie pause, until he sees the slight pink tinge jump to Tommy’s face. 

Steve Harrigton has always known how to weaponize words, and it looks like he still did.

“If I find out you’ve gone anywhere near any of those kids again Hargrove, I won’t hesitate to end your shit. And I know the ways you like to fight dirty now, so don’t act like I couldn’t. The bruise you left on Max’s wrist this moning is the last fucking time you touch her, do you understand?” Steve’s made his way back into Billy’s space, and Eddies almost certain he sees a silver glint between their bodies, but Steve’s open spiked jacket and the way he’s standing obscures whatever it is perfectly. 

And it’s about that time that Eddie realizes that Steve Harrinton is dangerous. 

Like probably would kill a man for the people he loves, dangerous, and the strangled sound that leaves his throat draws some of the onlookers attention, Eddie sliding his arms down to hold his books in a way that will hopefully not make his boner obvious.

“You have issues man.” Gareth cackles into his ear, Mack snickering right along with him. Just as a teacher is about to round the corner, Steve, fast as lightning is nowhere near Billy anymore, his arm slung casually over Robin’s shoulder and planting a soft kiss on her temple that makes Eddie’s heart squeeze with affection. Billy and Tommy glancing in Steve’s direction one more time before stalking off down the hallway and out of sight. Steve catches Eddie’s eye and smirks, shooting him a wink as he pulls Robin along with him towards their first class.

“It’s inhumanely unfair that Steve actively knows how hot he is when he does things” Eddie grumbles. His brain conjuring up images of silver glinting on sweaty skin.

“I think you just have a kink list a mile long and he checks them all off.” Jeff muses, joining them on the walk to first period.

“I think at this point his kink list is just ‘Anything Steve Harrington’.” Mack's words are echoed with his laugh as he bounds away down the hall to head off to wherever it is he disappears to when he decides to cut first period.

“If I have to spend one more second of my life talking about Steve Harrington, I’m gonna stab myself in the eye.” Gareth grumbles to himself under his breath as he throws himself down into his desk chair with an exasperated sigh. 

“Aw Gar Bear, it’s okay, I still love you.” Eddie sings-songs as he swings around in his chair to look at his best friend. 

“Not the way you love him, I fucking hope.” Gareth makes a face to show Eddie he’s joking, that they’re good and their friendship isn’t  really in any danger, but Eddie’s entire brain just blanked.

Because it’s been months of talking to Steve here and there, and weeks of hosting DnD for Steve’s kids, and even though they always joked that Eddie’s been half in love with Steve for years.

It was kinda true.

And getting to know Steve, getting to know the real Steve. The mom Steve, the soft Steve, the ‘I could murder you and not even blink an eye’ Steve.

Eddie wasn’t just half in love with him anymore.

Eddie’s pretty sure he wants to marry Steve and do the whole white picket fence thing with kids and pets and an annoying fucking neighbor.

“Fuck.” 

How do you tell a guy like that, that you love them? They’d never even gone on a date  before. 

A ball of paper hitting him in the face brings him out of his spiral. He glances in the direction it came from to see no one there, and Eddie's face twists in confusion, bending down to pick it up and smoothing it out.

You look hot when you get all flustered, Also your smile brightens like my whole day.

-S.H

Eddie’s cheeks grow hot. How could he not fall in love with someone like Steve?

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Next Part)

[gingersnaaps]

ctrl + shift + n

you should always remember to close your tabs - especially your tabs of tumblr smut, and especially around miya atsumu.

wc: 1.6k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, fingering, panty gag, finger sucking, condescension, super meta, fem!reader with internal genitals, college!au

a/n: i feel like this has been done before but i’ve had this concept on my mind for a while

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Miya Atsumu. Star volleyball player at your college. Undeniably talented. Riddled with scholarship offers and professional opportunities. Infuriatingly attractive.

Also: a terrible group project member.

“Just lemme have a look,” he whines, grabbing at your laptop. “It’ll only take a few seconds. Promise.”

It’s a heroic task, ignoring him. It almost takes as much brainpower as doing his portion of the project for him.

Your eye begins to twitch as his perfectly-filed fingernails intrude at the edge of your screen, obscuring part of the slide you’d been working on. Technically, he should have been the one doing them, but as much of a genius as he may be at volleyball(this fact was grudgingly admitted after you’d watched him play once), he was utterly useless when it came to anatomy and physiology.

And you really, really, needed to end the semester without failing.

The cool metal of the laptop slips out of your grasp, and you roll your eyes so hard that you think they might get stuck in your head.

“Just wanted to see what you’d been workin’ on,” Atsumu says sheepishly. He’s sitting at the opposite end of your couch, legs kicked up and crossed on the coffee table, and the bright screen disappears from view as he begins clicking through the slideshow. “Not bad,” he muses. He presses a few more keys.

His face suddenly changes, a brow quirking as his eyes darken.

“What?” you snap. “Should’ve done it yourself earlier if there’s something you don’t like.”

He jumps slightly, startled by your harsh reaction. “No,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “It’s good. I like it.”

One more thing to note about Miya Atsumu, you thought to yourself: he was probably terrible at poker.

He returns the laptop to you, as promised, and hums idly as you resume working. The two of you sit in silence, but it’s not exactly comfortable - after the awkward exchange, there’s a layer of tension that hangs thick and heavy in the air. The air conditioning drones on in the background, like white noise meant to soothe, but it worms its way into your conscious mind and sits there, just noticeable enough to be irritating. Aside from that, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Of course, he’s the one to break the silence.

“Didn’t know you were into that kinda’ stuff.”

You freeze.

“Didn’t think that a girl like you would ever be lookin’ at something so messed up.”

Panic clenches at your stomach, and you reply carefully, voice measured and cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Should really be more careful about which tabs you leave open,” he chuckles.

You scan the cluttered row of tabs at the top; there’s nothing missing. Your eyes dart around the screen frantically -

There’s an incognito window open along your taskbar.

“Rough sex, violent sex, rape? Jesus christ, sweetheart.”

You click nervously, and on the screen, clear as day, is the fic you’d been reading earlier that morning. It’s one of the blogs you frequent - normally one of your favorite places to scroll through after a nasty day - but right now, it seems almost sinister, black font on a white background staring back accusingly as your skin prickles under his gaze. You swallow; a heavy, sinking feeling squeezes at your chest, closes up your throat, makes you feel like you’re dry drowning.

He grabs the laptop back. He’s sitting a lot closer now.

“I mean, just look at this shit. You really want this, huh?”

“No, I- I don’t.” Your voice sounds foreign, far away - you feel like you’re underwater, and your denial sounds guilty even to your own ears.

His lips graze your ear, the warmth of his body spreading to yours as he slides an arm around waist.

“If you wanted to be raped, angel,” he whispers, a terrifying grin stretched wide across his face. “All you had to do was ask.”

He laughs at his clever little joke, and pulls you onto his lap.

You feel numb, paralyzed, unable to fight back or move at all as his hands glide along your inner thighs, kneading the soft, puffy, flesh, spreading them apart until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls your hair to one side and starts kissing along your jaw, rough and sloppy, sharp teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw as you shiver.

He punctuates his words with a harsh squeeze to your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your cunt. “I bet you were getting off t’ this, weren’t you?” he hisses. “Bet you were just dripping down your thighs, squirmin’ around ‘n moaning, fantasizing about some scary man who just takes what he wants.”

The dull, pained, look in your eyes reads like defeat to him, sending a thrill of pleasure through his veins. He’s right, isn’t he? He’s fuckn’ spot on about your little habits, your little fantasies, and he’s gonna make sure that all your dreams come true.

“Let’s do this exactly how it’s written out, how’s that sound? Follow along with your cute story ‘nd everything,” he muses, scrolling down the page. “Starts out with her - you - getting fingerfucked.”

It’s as if those words break some sort of dam inside you, a flurry of tears and sobs heaving out of your chest as his fingers trail up to your clothed clit. You squirm back and forth in his lap, ass rutting against his hardening cock. “Don’t want it,” you whimper. “Don’t make me. Please.”

“Playin’ along, angel? That’s cute.”

He peels your skirt off of you, thumbs hooking around the waistband of your panties as he pulls them off and stuffs them in your mouth. You can taste yourself on the damp fabric that clings to the roof of your mouth, spit soaking through as your whines and protests become muffled.

Fingers spread your pussy apart, sliding and squelching embarrassingly in the slick, your skin cold and exposed in the open air. As he rests his thumb lightly on your clit, he quirks his lips at the way your heartbeat thrums in your cunt, your pussy twitching as you clench around nothing.

Best part is that you like this, that you're turned on by this, he thinks. The fat, silvery, tears streaming down your face mean absolutely nothing when you’re so obviously into it.

He thrusts a long, thick, finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, the calloused pad of his fingertip brushing up against your spongy walls as your pussy contracts and squeezes him tight. “So eager,” he coos. “It’s jus’ like you always imagined, huh?”

You sniffle as the outline of his cock presses into your ass, rutting his hips against you and moaning from the delicious friction of the fabric. There’s nowhere for you to go, one large hand squeezing your waist and holding you down, the other fucking you backwards into his broad chest.

He crooks his finger; you sob, body drawn taught with pleasure, and he pushes another inside as you spasm. He’s good with his hands, unfairly good, his thumb nudging against your sweet clit in circles as his fingers scissor your walls and stretch you out so good. It’s as if you’re his little puppet, jerking around whenever he drags his fingers roughly against your g-spot, crying out through your stuffed mouth as blunt teeth sink into your neck and his tongue runs along the ridge of your ear.

“You’re makin’ a mess, pretty girl,” he murmurs, watching in delight as you flush with shame. “Dripping into my palm and all down your thighs, just like the girl in the story.”

You turn your head, trying to look away, but he grabs at the hinge of your jaw and forces you to meet his gaze. It’s taunting, cruel - he looks so pleased with himself as he fingers you until your thighs start trembling, walls clenching erratically as pleasure builds and builds.

His grip on your face turns tight, pressing bruises into your skin as you cream and gush around his thick digits. The orgasm crashes down on you in waves of pleasure, his fingers fucking you through it with constant probing and circling and stimulation.

His nimble fingers pluck the panties from your mouth, soaked with drool, and tosses them aside onto the floor. “Open up,” he says, prying at your mouth.

Your jaw goes slack, falling open, too tired to put up a fight as he shoves his fingers in. You’re not sure there’s much of a point. You suck sloppily, tongue laving around his digits, cleaning your cum off of him as he shoves his hand in deeper, making you gag and retch, and he moans loudly at the sight. You look so perfect - his precious little angel choking on his fingers, eyes watering and body trembling as you do everything he makes you.

You’re shivering when he withdraws his fingers with a pop.

He helps you put your clothes back on, wet panties sliding across your skin and leaving trails of shining slick. It sticks and clings to your pussy, makes you feel all filthy and used, and bile rises in your throat. Goosebumps ripple down your thigh at the sensation of cool air.

Atsumu nuzzles at your neck, fingers patting at your spent pussy, his tenderness almost mocking, and clicks back to the slideshow you’d been working on.

“Let’s save the cock for after you get us the A, hmm?”

[not-orphaned-account]

Yo

Here’s an unfinished work that I’ve not been able to figure out an ending for but still wanted to share somewhere. It’s not edited or beta’d or anything, just some brain soup I wanted to unleash on the internet.

Featuring a story of Matt and Mello, through the eyes of everybody else.

CW for implied homophobia, some blood

Enjoy?

. . .

There are whispers—how could there not be, when this boy, fresh faced but for the scowl and the weight in his eyes, is suddenly in their midst?

‘Boy’ is the right word, because though he gives a backstory of exactly twenty-one years, no one is disillusioned; though, they can’t seem to come to a consensus about his real age. Someone says he must be eighteen, for Ross to allow half the shit the kid gets up to; someone else swears up and down he’s barely fifteen, with his boyish face and whiny voice.

Either way, no one questions it. Not only because Ross wouldn’t stand for questions, but because the kid himself is…kind of terrifying.

Mello, he says his name is, and no one questions it. No one questions him on anything, really. Those who do are quickly silenced, one way or the other.

As time passes and he gets more comfortable as Ross’s lapdog, some joke that he’s ‘growing up’ in the mafia, like some sort of bastard child. The ones who don’t are the ones who have worked closer with him, who have really seen him: the cold stare that no one can read; the way he speaks when discussing all manner of dark and criminal topics, which are new to none of them, but still sends shivers up their spines seeing this kid sentencing men to their deaths with the tone of a bored teenager. The way his face contorts with rage, twisting into a monstrous snarl.

The ones who have seen that aren’t usually ones who make it out of Ross’s office unscathed.

Soon, the joke peters out. Mello climbs, and climbs, and keeps climbing until he’s got more of the men under his thumb than Ross, even if none of them would admit it. Mello is scary, Mello is ruthless, but he’s damn good at what he does.

 -

  No one notices the guy when he first steps in. Maybe one or two of them glance his way, but he practically blends into the wall, and they’re more preoccupied with beating the information out of this bastard that Mello tracked down seemingly out of nowhere. He stands in the shadows, watching the scene through tinted goggles that reflect the dim warehouse lighting and obscure his eyes. He’s kind of creepy, but between Mello’s interrogation and the man tied to the chair screaming for mercy, he goes fairly unnoticed.

That is, until the informant cracks, and Mello nods to one of the men with his gun out. He looks away just before the gunshot sounds. And if anyone were watching his expression, they could see his eyes widen ever so slightly as the blood splatters his shoes.

Anyone following his gaze to the back of the room would realize that it’s not the blood that has him shaken.

Mello stays behind when the rest of them start to file out, barking an order to take the body with them. A few of them catch the slight shake in his voice, but say nothing.

The creepy guy stays at the back of the room, unmoving.

When the door closes, two of the rookies share a glance and lag behind the rest, curious and too new to the job to know better when it comes to Mello. They stand by the door, and soon enough hear Mello shouting, but the other side of the conversation is nothing but low, muffled tones.

“What. The fuck. Are you doing here.”

“...”

“Don’t you dare pull that shit with me. How did you find me?”

“...”

“It was Near, wasn’t it?”

One of the rookies, impatient and burning with questions, presses his ear to the door to hear better. The other glances around nervously, staying where he is.

“ —is what you’ve been doing, huh? I didn’t believe him at first, but honestly, it tracks.”

“You need to leave. Now.”

“Nope.”

“...what did you just say to me?”

“I said, nope. Leaving’s your job. ‘Fraid you’re stuck with me for now, Mells.”

“I could kill you.”

“I know.”

The rookie flinches, but a gunshot never comes.

“...you’re a real bastard.”

“I know that too. So, you gonna show me where you’re staying?”

They don’t stick around after that, scampering off to join the rest of the group. They’re new to all this, but not new enough to know that they don’t want to be around when Mello opens that door.

 -

  His name is Matt. He doesn’t introduce himself like Mello did; rather, Mello introduces him, though not directly. He doesn’t talk to any of the others, but Mello calls Matt when he needs a hand, or backup, or something tech-y, and the guy responds to it.

Where Mello is confusing in a fearful way, Matt is just…confusing. He’s quiet, reserved; he avoids speaking when anyone else is in the room, though when he does talk, his voice is low and monotone. He sounds bored more often than not which, given their profession, is rather rare. He smokes inside, plays video games, and tinkers with anything with wires or a screen.

A few of the guys try to boss him around. Mello shuts them down immediately.

When he’s not working, he disappears. Some of them theorize about where he goes; maybe he has a place of his own near the base. Maybe he’s homeless. Maybe he sleeps in the rafters.

It’s all jokes, because nobody is going to acknowledge how he’s been seen entering and leaving Mello’s suite regularly enough for it to be obvious. 

Nobody is allowed in Mello’s suite.

The guys that give Mello the benefit of the doubt say that he’s sleeping on the lounger in the living area. The guys who know better don’t say anything.

There have been whispers, because there always are. The way Mello dresses, the level of secrecy he holds himself with, the way his shoulders raise and his knuckles clench when the bawdier guys crow about their lays. The ones who give him the benefit of the doubt have explanations for it all: his clothes just add to his intimidation. Of course he’s secretive, he’s mafia. And, the guy’s still practically a kid—even with the years that have passed, he can’t be older than twenty. Maybe he’s a late bloomer.

The ones who know better keep their mouths shut.

Mello changes in a way that none of them, of either opinion, want to acknowledge. He’s protective of Matt in a way that no one’s seen from him before, even though it’s soon made apparent that Matt doesn’t need protecting. He’s there for backup—as he always is nowadays—with two others while Mello meets with a possible lead. The man pulls a gun when Mello’s back is turned, and before anyone else can react, there’s a crack of a gunshot and he reels back, blood spurting from his neck, before collapsing to the floor.

All eyes turn to Matt, his blank expression, and the gun still drawn raised in his left hand.

Mello is pale and wide-eyed, looking at Matt, then the man on the floor gurgling on his own blood, then back to Matt again. The room is deathly still.

He turns on his heel and leaves without a word, Matt following close behind, and the other two guards hurrying to catch up.

No one talks about the shouting they hear from Mello’s suite that night.

 -

  They’re not very subtle. Multiple times, they’re seen jerking apart when someone walks into a room, fixing hair and clothes and expressions. Matt starts wearing a high-necked vest. Mello’s been known to leave concealer in the bathroom, poorly hidden under the sink.

It’s a dangerous game they’re playing, with the profession they’re in. Though, perhaps more dangerous is what Mello might do to anyone who brings attention to it, so eyes stay averted and mouths stay shut.

Mello seems almost…happy. Sure, he’s still cold and harsh and generally unapproachable, but around Matt, something about him seems to soften. Matt levels him out, and everyone is grateful for it.

 -

  Almost nobody survives the explosion.

A few of the guards posted outside stumble away from the rubble. No one bothers going into the fire to check for bodies.

A car engine roars, and a red Camaro skids to a rubber-burning halt in front of the carnage. The few who made it out see Matt practically fall out of the driver’s side and stumbling over to the flames.

It’s the first time that any of them hear Matt scream.

He bellows Mello’s name and, before anyone can stop him, barrels into the wreckage.

Some of them pass out from their injuries. Sirens blare in the distance.

Only one man is conscious to see Matt emerging from the blaze, holding someone in his arms. He’s coughing, stumbling on debris, mumbling in hurried words. You’re gonna be okay, c’mon, stay awake for me, I’ve got you, fuck Mello, you fucking idiot, how could you do this—

He bundles Mello’s limp body into the backseat and speeds away, leaving nothing but tire marks and a burned glove in his wake.

The man passes out soon after, as well.

It’s the last time that any of them see Mello or Matt again.

 - 

The receptionist at the cheap, mid-nowhere motel is half asleep when the bell jingles cheerfully. She doesn’t bother trying to look awake or friendly, merely blinking the sleep from her eyes enough to do her job.

Upon taking in the appearance of the customer, however, she suddenly feels a lot more awake. The guy looks haggard, pale and unkempt and with a look on his face that makes her uneasy. She can see the shadows under his eyes even through his tinted goggles; he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

For a moment, she wonders if she should be afraid; however, the guy just slumps to the counter and pulls out his wallet. His voice is soft and slightly hoarse, but he’s polite when he asks for a room, and even gives a small smile when she hands over the key.

Maybe it’s how tired she is, but she can swear she sees someone sitting in the front seat with their face covered in bandages.

She’s not paid enough to deal with this. She puts her head back down on the desk and goes back to sleep.

[mellowyandere]

One Hell of a Logical Ruse Part 2

Reader: F

Characters: Toshinori Yagi (All Might)

Summary: Toshinori's anxiety over your absence quickly gave way to anger as he tired of your attitude. His own version of a punishment was in order.

Length: 6.7k

Warnings: non-con spanking, yandere themes, bathing, non-con, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, size kink.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Based off the pre-established fic You’re Ours to Protect. 

Toshinori and Hizashi were pacing the kitchen, phones in hand as they tried to get Shouta to respond. You had been missing for upwards of six hours now and the pros were on the verge of losing it. Their sleepy counterpart had stated he wouldn't need the two blonds help, but try as they might they couldn't help the anxiety clawing away at their minds.

"Fuck Toshi what if she got hurt? I know she's capable 'n all but the woods! There's god knows what out there!" The smaller blond was vibrating he was so wound up, the mental image of bugs crawling all over you and coyotes tearing you to pieces sending him into a panic.

All Might's anxieties were a bit more practical, imagining you finding your way to the road and trying to hitch hike away from them. What if a villain found you and hurt you? Nowhere was safer than home with them.

"Shouta is fully capable of finding her, any minute now and he'll give me a call..." The words were meant to bring Hizashi comfort, but he was struggling to convince himself as well. His phone was clutched in his large hand, its silence on the verge of killing him.

When it finally rang he almost threw it across the room as he fumbled it. Slamming the answer button he brought the phone to his ear.

"Where is she, is she hurt, is she alright?"

"Calm down she's fine. Dirty and upset, but otherwise relatively unharmed."

Hizashi bounded over, ears perked so he could listen in on the conversation. His perfectly aligned teeth worried his bottom lip at his husbands word choice of relatively. So he was a bit rough on recovery.

"I'll send you our coordinates, she managed to get pretty far into the endless forest. Good thing that contact of yours set up this quirk or else she would have reached the main road hours ago."

Toshinori heard your disgruntled yelling in the background at Shouta's newest revelation before the line went dead. His phone pinged and he made a mental note of where the two of you were. Taking a deep breath he puffed up his chest, taking on his more muscular appearance before running out the front door.

-----

An endless forest. Go figures. From what you could tell the further you wandered into the woods the deeper they actually became. You weren't exactly sure how they got in and out the house around the quirk, but the path you took was clearly not it.

You were currently sitting on the ground, back to Shouta as you simmered. Now that he was no longer plastered on top of you your anger was rekindled. You could feel his eyes burning holes into you, but you were far too pissed off to acknowledge him. It was a good thing he seemed to know when to leave you be, not bothering with conversation after fucking you into the forest floor.

The only thing he'd done since violating you was get his capture weapon, dragging you along so he didn't lose sight of you again.

Your head was still pounding from when you had hit the ground earlier. Combining that with how filthy you were and Shouta's cooling cum on your inner thighs, and you feel like absolute shit.

The sound of a loud thud behind you caused you to flinch. You didn't have it in you to turn around and face the number one hero right now, not sure if you would be able to handle whatever expression was on his face.

"Oh goodness, Shouta she's a mess what did you do?"

The dark haired man simply huffed in response, eyes rolling at the number ones concern.

"Just get us home, she needs a bath."

You hated when they talked about you like you weren't there, as if you were just some pet or child instead of your own autonomous person.

All Mights heavy footsteps approached you, stopping just shy of touching you. When you made no move to acknowledge his presence he sighed deeply, tutting at your behavior, before scooping you up bridal style. You closed your eyes to avoid looking at him, turning away from his broad chest.

"Shouta you can just grip around my neck from behind, it will only take a couple minutes to get back."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at his words. He had covered what took you six hours in mere minutes.

As soon as Eraserhead had confirmed himself secure All Might took off. Wind rushed passed you as he soared high above the canopy. You peeked your eyes open, trying desperately to see where the forest ended, but much to your dismay the nearest city looked to be hundreds of miles away, and any possible roads were obscured by trees.

"Take a good look Y/N," Toshinori murmured to you, voice rumbling against your ear. He didn't need to say more, you understood him loud and clear. Escape won't be possible, even if you get out you can't outrun me, and even if you hide it's only a matter of time before we find you. Your tears of frustration fell more freely now. Way to rub salt in the wound.

When you landed a minute or so later Shouta wasted no time in dropping off the giant while Toshinori quickly brought you inside. Hizashi greeted you at the front door, a strange mixture of relief, anger and disappointment swirling in his emerald eyes.

"Oh no baby look at yah. I got the water runnin' in the master bath in your room Toshi come on lets get her clean." Toshinori followed Hizashi upstairs, refusing to put you down. You all trailed through his bedroom, simplistic design leaving the space void of personality, until you ended up in his bathroom. The room was large, to accommodate the size of its owner, with white marble tiles on the floor, accompanied by white walls and white appliances, giving the room a sterile feeling.

"Hizashi, Shouta, I'll take care of her for now." You had expected a bit of protest from Hizashi but he merely walked out with a sad nod.

"Take it easy on her okay, it's partially my fault she got out..." Shouta mumbled, following his husband out of the bathroom. The door closed with a soft click and for the first time since coming into this house you found yourself alone with All Might. He was normally so busy you barely ever saw him, but now here he was, gently lowering you to the floor.

He stepped away from you, running his hand under the large free standing tubs faucet to test the water temperature. Hizashi had left everything he'd need to clean you up, towel and spare clothes included.

"Go ahead and strip." His voice was colder than normal, an edge to it that filled you with unease. Turning to finally look at him you sucked in your breath. His eyes were fixated on you, searing you with a look that was equal parts disappointment and wounded. He was still in his muscular form, kneeling impatiently beside the bath.

Heat rushed to your face as you slowly began to peel off your filthy clothes, until you were standing in front of him in your bra and underwear. He quirked an eyebrow at you as his frowned deepened.

"All of it." Anger and fear mixed dangerously in your mind as you glared at him.

"I can clean myself."

"I don't recall asking if you could. Strip, now."

When you made no move to comply he threw his head back in exasperation, heaving a large sigh before standing to his full height.

"I have had enough of your behavior young lady. I understand your frustration with us, but we're doing this for your own good. Would you really rather waste away in prison?"

"I'd rather you assholes just kill me already or something, this whole playing pet thing is really starting to piss me off!" His face dropped, teeth grinding against one another as his mind processed what you said. You had no idea how villains got the nerve to fight him, right now it was taking everything inside you to not back down and apologize.

"Kill you? Are you serious right now!" He stomped up to you, frame looming over you threateningly as his eyes blazed with fury.

Swallowing hard you steeled your nerves, you had nothing left to lose so might as well give him a piece of your mind.

"I was perfectly fine before you fuckers brought me here! I don't need you! The fact that you had to prevent me from using my quirk is proof enough that I don't need you! Sure I might not have had much, but it was mine! My life to own and do whatever the hell I wanted with, not yours to take!"

"The moment you decided killing people was the only way to solve your problems was the moment you lost the rights to your life. As heroes in this world, and enforcers of justice, you are sentenced to our care. Now stop arguing with me and strip."

Puffing out your chest you narrowed your tear stained eyes and fixed him with the nastiest look you could muster. "Fuck. You."

In that moment you saw something inside him snap. Mouth pulled tight in a terrifying scowl, he had you maneuvered faster than you could comprehend. One moment you had been standing in front of him, the next you were strewn over his lap, facing the floor.

You yelled out in anger, clawing at his calves through his cargo pants. You knew what would be coming next, but your brain didn't want to slow down to think about how humiliating it was about to be.

"If you want to act like a child then you'll be punished like one. Count. One for every hour you were gone. Be grateful it's not more."

"Let go of me you fucking assho- aH!"

His large hand made contact with your clothed ass, the slap muffled by the sound of running water.

"Count."

You bit down on your bottom lip hard, tears leaving trails as they washed the dirt down your face. You waited with bated breath, the stinging on your ass for now was bearable enough.

"Y/N, you will count on this next one or I will double your punishment. I'm done playing games with you."

You tensed on the expanse of his massive thighs. You didn't want to count, didn't want to give in, but deep down you knew you'd never win.

His hand came down again with another resounding smack right on top of the first hit. You let out a sob from the impact, choking out a soft "one" as your self preservation instincts kicked your ego to the curb.

"Good, only five more to go."

Your head hung in shame as you waited for your punishment to end, jolting and squeaking out numbers every time he made contact with your burning flesh. To his credit he applied the same level of force with each hit, but every time he made contact the intensity of your burn increased until finally you cried out a broken "six".

You felt so pathetic, strewn across All Mights lap. You used to be so independent, never did you imagine this would be your fate. What happened to your self confidence? The fire inside of you that pushed you to rid the world of villains felt smoldered. Doused by the degrading nature of your stay with the three pro heroes.

It made you want to curl up in a ball and cry until your head pounded from exhaustion. Today was simply getting to be too much for you to mentally handle. From your failed escape attempt, your pathetic attempt at self defense against Shouta, learning running was a pointless waste of your time, to now getting a spanking like a fucking child from All Might himself. The list of losses just kept adding up, and none of them were in your favor.

You were openly sobbing, and the fact that you were crying was pissing you off even more, making for a horrible cycle where you simply cried harder. Toshinori gently moved you around in his hold until he had you clutched to his chest, gently shushing you as you clung to him. Despite how wrong it was you found comfort in Toshinori as he rubbed soft circles into your back, grasping small handfuls of his t-shirt as you stained the white fabric with tears and dirt.

"Everything is going to be okay, I know you've had a bad day and being locked up isn't easy for you. Just give it some time Y/N and you'll see that things here aren't so bad with us. We're here for you, and we're never going to tire of you, even with that stubborn attitude of yours."

Toshinori waited patiently for your sobbing to turn into soft hiccups before peeling you off of him. He removed what little clothes you had left and then lowered you into the tub. The drain was unplugged since you were still filthy, and sitting you in a full tub of water would murky up the clean bath.

Grabbing a large cup Toshinori filled it and poured water over your naked body. You watched with unfocused and puffy eyes as the proof of your failed escape attempt swirled down the drain. Only when the water finally ran clear did Toshinori put the plug in. The lulling warmth progressively crept higher up your body, your head bobbing as you grew sleepy. Toshinori turned the water off once the water had reached your chest, leaving it a good bit from the lip of the tub.

You heard the rustling of clothes but paid the source no mind. You didn't so much as react when the now naked hero stepped into the bath, shimmying down until you were surrounded by him. The water level rose drastically with the addition of the 560 pound man. His thick thighs were splayed on either side of you, solid abdominal muscles pressed into your back.

You heard the pop of a bottle before two large hands gently began to lather your skin in body wash.

"I'm not sure how you like your hair cleaned princess. Whenever women find out I use two in one shampoo they give me a look like I kicked a puppy so I'll just leave that to you for another time." He chuckled softly as he spoke, massaging the tightness out of your shoulders before moving down to your arms.

He spoke so casually, as if all his anger from earlier evaporated with the ending of your punishment. You found yourself grateful that he moved on so quickly instead of lingering on your emotional degradation.

You felt his cock stir a bit as he came back to your chest, cupping them and working the soap onto your skin with more attention than he'd shown your shoulders. You stiffened a bit, but since he made no further move to grind himself against you, you remained in his hold.

"I'm sorry for being rough with you, I'd much rather do something relaxing like this than bring you pain." He pulled you until your head was laying on the expanse of his chest, the deep pounding of his heart mingling with the ringing in your ears. It was almost relaxing, minus the growing erection pressed against your lower back.

Reluctantly his hands left your breast, moving further down your body. He rubbed the soft expanse of your stomach, humming happily at your lack of resistance to him. Only when his hands drifted further did you begin to stir a bit.

"Now young lady I need to make sure all of you is cleaned up okay? You're behaving yourself so well I'd really hate to ruin the moment."

"No, no. Please. Just this one thing.."

His hands paused. He hated how broken you sounded right now. Pulling back he raised his arms outside the tub and rested them along the edges. You relaxed a bit as he retreated.

"Alright Y/N, do you need any soap?"

Sighing softly in relief, you were glad that he was willing to give you this. It almost made you feel human again.

"Nah, it's not healthy to use soap down there."

Toshinori merely hummed in acknowledgement, sliding further into the bath and pushing you along with him as he got comfortable.

You cleaned your core gently, it was still a bit sore from what Shouta had done earlier to you. Only once you deemed yourself spotless did you get soap to lather on the parts of you Toshinori had not gotten to. Speaking of, his breathing had gotten a lot deeper. You peaked back at him noticing his head uncomfortably resting against the tub as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Peering down his naked body you couldn't help but gasp softly as you took note of the large injury covering part of his abdomen. You turned towards him, sending ripples through the water as you cautiously brought your hand to the deep scar. You knew that All Might had been injured enough to force him into a smaller form, but seeing the injury first hand was something else entirely. Who on earth had been able to hurt this titan of a man?

You hadn't realized Toshinori had woken up until his large hand gently covered your own. Meeting his soft gaze you were taken aback by his sad smile.

"The man who did this to me, some say it would be best if I just killed him already. But that's not what heroes do, that's not what Nana would do."

Taking hold of your body Toshinori moved you until he had you straddling the smallest part of his waist. Since you were both completely naked you kept your eyes trained on his injury, heat rushing to your cheeks at the intimacy of the position. His hands rose from the water, gently cupping your face and drawing your gaze to his own.

"When I look at you sometimes I can see her. Your strong will, your intelligence, how beautiful you are... but you're not the same person. Not in a bad way, no you are unique. Your own individual, and someone who I've come to love, even if you don't feel the same way."

His blue orbs were hypnotizing, almost as if he believed if he tried hard enough your own glassy orbs would mirror his loving gaze, or perhaps he'd see it hidden in the depths of your irises.

This moment was far too intimate and personal for your comfort, it was so different than anything any of the men had done before. In a way you almost preferred when they failed to acknowledge you as an equal, it made it easier to hate them. But right now, sitting in the warm bath atop Toshinori, you could feel your resolve slipping.

You didn't want to bring attention to his confession so you decided to try and divert the subject.

"Who's Nana?" You had never heard of her before, not even in tabloids referring to All Might. Toshinori's hands froze on your face, eyes scrunching up as he contemplated on how he wanted to answer.

"Nana... Nana was my mentor. Though calling her that doesn't feel right, she was more like a mother to me. She's the reason I am who I am. Without her I'd be nothing."

Past tense, he was using a lot of past tense. It didn't take a genius to interpret why. His forlorn expression filled in the gaps, so you didn't bother to ask what had become of her. He saw you in the same light he saw this woman?

"Y/N, will you sleep with me tonight?"

Taking note of your hesitation he continued speaking before you could voice any protests.

"Coming home and realizing you were gone.. I was so worried, so afraid I'd never see you again. That you'd be taken away from me, and I don't know if I can handle losing you. I've lost so many people that I cared deeply about, I refuse to lose you too."

How in the ever loving fuck were you supposed to refuse him now. Even though you were still mad at him from his earlier form of punishment you couldn't find it in you to hurt him right now.

"Yeah that's fine, but just tonight. You probably put off a ridiculous amount of heat or snore or something..."

Toshinori flashed you his signature smile before bellowing out a laugh. The water rippled and your body jostled along with his hearty chuckle.

"Me? Snore? No, it'll be the coughing that might get to you haha-ack"

Pain flashed across his face before you felt his body rapidly shrink beneath you with a large puff of smoke. He scrambled upright, causing you to fall against him as he hacked out a lung. You awkwardly placed your hand on his back and rubbed small circles as one of his arms gripped you tightly for balance.

"So-sorry I think I was in my muscular form for too long."

He looked a bit sheepish, using the back of his forearm to wipe off some blood that had dribbled down his chin. You merely sat there, doing your best to look anywhere but him as he collected himself.

"The water's getting cold, come on let's get out princess."

You stood up first, awkwardly stepping over his legs and out of the tub. You were a bit embarrassed that he kept his eyes trained on you the whole time while his hands hovered to ensure your safety. A pile of large fluffy towels were set to the side of the tub on a stool. Grabbing the one on top you began the process of drying off.

You heard the sloshing of water as Toshinori stood up, followed by the sound of the plug being pulled and water draining. Looking over it amazed you that even in his smaller form he was was still intimidating. Wiry muscles clung tight to his frame, the angles of his face casting shadows across his eyes. Stepping out he grabbed a towel and proceeded to dry himself off as well.

"Hizashi left you some clothes it would seem... though they look a bit uncomfortable. You can borrow a spare shirt of mine, I also have a spare toothbrush on the top right hand draw of the counter if you want to hide out in my room tonight."

You very much wanted to avoid Hizashi, not sure if you could handle whatever he'd have in store for you right now. Out of three men here, he made you the most nervous. Even now, as you held the scandalous lingerie up to the light you knew he was still going to want his share of punishment.

"I'll take your shirt offer, as well as the hiding out offer. I don't think I can handle him tonight."

Toshinori hummed in acknowledgement before heading to his bedroom and shuffling about before reappearing with one of his large white t-shirts. He had on boxers now, which he must have bought specifically for his smaller form because they hugged all of him rather snugly. Tossing the shirt your way he meandered about the bathroom, preparing for sleep.

You both finished around the same time, leaving you to awkwardly shuffle towards his gigantic bed. He followed behind you, large hand on the small of your back to encourage you onwards.

You wanted him to sleep on the other side of the bed but weren't sure exactly how to voice your desire, especially when he followed so closely behind you. Pulling back the sheets you slid under the cool covers, and yet again Toshinori somehow found a way to leave you with no space.

After turning off the bedside lamp his long limbs quickly ensnared you, pulling you close and tucking you into his embrace. He was warm, but not unpleasantly hot.

Just for tonight. You'd give him this just for tonight. You were also beyond exhausted, your limbs heavy as you sunk into his ridiculously comfortable mattress. Your mind, which had been drifting off ever since the bath, finally dipped into unconsciousness. Your soft breathing filled the air as Toshinori watched you finally succumb to slumber. Smiling softly he lovingly stroked your cheek, planting a kiss to your forehead before giving in himself.

-----

Waking with a jolt you were thrown off by limbs harshly clutching your body. It took you a moment to remember that you weren't in your own bedroom, meaning Toshinori was currently holding you like his life depended on it.

The room was pitch black so you had no idea what time it was, but figured it was still way to early to be awake. His grip on your body was borderline painful causing you to groan out in sleepy annoyance.

"Toshinori, damnit, wake up. You're squeezing me too tight," you grumbled, wiggling a bit to try and jostle him awake. He was murmuring in his sleep, deep voice grumbling against you with the way he had you pressed against his chest.

"D-don't go... no no. I am here... please."

His body was trembling, caught in a nightmare that you couldn't see.

You raised your voice a bit, trying harder to wake him up but he still wouldn't release his grip on you. Only when you accidentally elbowed him did he finally react to you.

With a harsh gasp he threw himself on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. His blue eyes were a wild blaze, messy blond hair framing his angular face. His long bangs were plastered to his forehead from sweat, lungs heaving to swallow air.

"Y/N?"

He looked so lost, eyes clouded with tears as his brain finally registered he was no longer trapped in his own personal hell. Groaning out in discomfort he lowered his body on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you, trying to ground himself.

"Ah, I'm- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up... fuck." Moving down he rested his head against your chest, as if he needed to hear your heart beating beneath him in order to assure himself you were really here.

All you could find it in yourself to do was sigh in exhaustion, body going limp as you relaxed beneath him. It was a good thing he was in his smaller form, since he wasn't attempting to keep any of his weight off of you. You closed your eyes, not quite ready to ask him what his nightmare had been about.

He sniffled softly into your chest, arms unwinding from your waist to gently rub against your exposed flesh. His shirt had drifted up your body, leaving your stomach and lower half exposed.

"May I, may I touch you please?"

"You already are..."

"Oh, uh- yeah it would seem I am. Could I touch you, um down here?" His hand trailed down, knuckles softly brushing against your bare thighs.

You cracked your eyes open to look down at him, his own glowing orbs pleading up to you.

"Toshinori can we just go back to sleep? Please?"

Biting his bottom lip his hand continued to drift closer to your naked core, eyes averting from your own as he thought about what he was going to do next.

"I know I'm not around as much as Hizashi and Shouta but gosh I just- I need to feel you right now. The way they talk about you, how perfect you feel, I need you."

"I-I'd rather we just sleep, Hizashi is still mad at me an-"

Toshinori slid up your body, silencing your protests with a kiss. His hand slid up all the way, using his own thigh as leverage to keep you from closing yours.

His tongue delved into your mouth, fingers finally meeting your outer folds. You struggled beneath him, breaking the kiss.

"Toshinori please, I just want to sleep." In reality you were scared. You had seen his length before, and you'd be a liar if you said it didn't intimidate you. That coupled with the fact that tonight had been going semi-well with the pro, him finally having his share of you would cement your fate in this house even further. His fingers had paused, body still as he took you in below him.

"You don't have to do a thing then princess, I'll take care of everything. Just lay back and relax I promise I'll make you feel good."

"To-Toshinori please, I just want to sleep," you looked deep into his eyes as you pleaded with him, hoping somehow you could find the part of him that knew this was wrong. He gave you a sad smile, his eyes still a bit glassy from his nightmare.

"Just think of this as the last of your punishment then. I still don't think you realize just how terrified I was when I came home to an empty house."

You shook your head, sniffling a bit as tears formed. You tried to push him off but he merely took one large hand and easily secured both of your wrists above your head. His other hand resumed ever so gently teasing you, working on getting you aroused.

"Just lay back and relax alright, then we can go back to sleep. I just-I just need to feel you right now. Need to make sure you're really here."

You worked your bottom lip with you teeth, eyes closed so you no longer had to look at him. His thumb trailed up to press light circles against your clit while his middle finger began to delve a bit deeper, teasing your sore hole. Your body had gone slack, tired of the fact that this was just another situation in which your powerlessness was painfully on display. You didn't have it in you mentally to put up a fight.

Toshinori moved his slim hips until his clothed cock was pressed against your right thigh, rutting against you while he worked you open. He gave a gentle peck to your forehead before trailing kisses down your face to your mouth. He captured your lips with his own, freeing your bottom lip from your teeth and moaning into your unwilling mouth.

You didn't work with him, not giving him the satisfaction of your consent, but he wasn't deterred. He simply moved down, back arching as he made his way to your chest. His erection left your thigh as he finally settled on his stomach between your legs, allowing him to comfortably take your right nipple into his hot mouth.

He nipped at the sensitive bud, long finger pushing into you at the same time while he continued to work your clit. His movements were slow as he savored every moment, sleepy mind basking in the warmth of your body.

You tried to drift back to sleep, thinking that perhaps in the emptiness of unconsciousness you could avoid your punishment, but Toshinori was surprisingly very skilled when it came to manipulating your body. You shuddered beneath him when he gave a particularly hard suck to your breast, his lean digit rubbing against the spongy spot on your inner walls that had you clamping down on him in return.

His pace was torture, just on the cusp of bringing you satisfaction, but he seemed plenty content with dragging this out. You wiggled below him in annoyance, attempting to grind down against his hand in anger and desperation. If he was going to force himself on you then the least he could do was not torment you about it.

With a soft sigh Toshinori released your nipple from his mouth, a small trail of spit connected to his lips. Opening your eyes you glared down at him, while his eyelids were hooded in an amorous gaze.

"Tell me what you need me to do for you princess."

"Let me sleep."

Toshinori gave a sleepy chuckle before peppering your chest with lazy kisses.

"You're more than welcome to try."

Resting his head against your chest he continued to pump his finger excruciatingly slow, easily pushing all the way in to his knuckle, thanks to how wet you had become, before dragging out with a languid come hither motion against your sensitive walls.

You could feel your heart accelerate as he lazily stroked pleasure into your slack body. The way in which you velvety walls clamped down on him far too telling of his skill. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn't so damn good at this. In some sick and twisted way though, his loving movements quelled the rage inside you.

Did you want this? Tears slipped down your face as you realized that some fucked up part of you just might. Toshinori hummed softly into your flesh while he lazily worked you closer to your climax, the endorphins flooding your brain working to wash away your inner turmoil. His thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit while he nipped and sucked on whatever flesh he could reach.

Once he realized you were close to finishing he simply added another finger, stretching and wiggling the two digits to help open you up. You moaned softly at the intrusion, hips bucking as you gave in to him. It didn't take him much longer to finally push you over the edge, but he didn't stop like you had hoped. Adding a third digit you inhaled sharply at the burning sensation, stretched walls still spasming from your orgasm.

"I'll make sure you're ready, don't worry about a thing. Just a little bit more, you're tight but I'll fit."

"It- you won't fit, please you know you won't."

As if to prove you wrong he pushed a bit harder then you were prepared for, burying three of his fingers knuckle deep and forcing a pained whine from your throat. He began to move, getting on his knees and arching his body over your own while continuing to stroke your now sensitive and stinging cunt.

"As I said earlier, just think of this as the ending to your punishment."

"But Hizashi hasn't-" Toshinori cut you off with a pointed look.

"That's not my fault now is it?" You cringed away from him, his cold tone from earlier in the night caused your chest to tighten in fear.

He sighed lowly at your frightened expression, before giving you a small smile and another gentle peck to your forehead.

"Just lay back and relax alright?" He gave your captured wrists a light squeeze as he spoke, large frame hovering over you as he continued to scissor his fingers inside you. The burning sensation from being stretched out began to subside as the familiar warmth of pleasure took hold of you once more.

"There we go, just like that. The more you relax the easier this will be I promise."

Finally pulling his devilish hand away from your soaked pussy he made quick work of shimmying out of his underwear, long cock springing free. The tip was red with a good bit of pre-cum dripping down his intimidating length, some getting lost in his neatly trimmed curly blond pubic hair.

You had flashbacks to the first time you saw it, a bit relieved that in his smaller form he lost a bit of girth. But holy shit if this 7 foot 2 inch giant of a man wasn't packing heat.

Heat flushed Toshinori's face as he watched you take him in. He knew his size could be a bit alarming, which is why he was well versed in the art of foreplay.

Bringing himself down on top of you he lined his tip up with your entrance, free hand helping to guide himself in. You could feel him, gently rubbing himself on your outer lips to gather your slick. His raspy breaths ghosted across the hot expanse of your face, while he closed his eyes, letting out a low groan as he began to push in.

"Sh-shit yes, just like that, ah fuck it'll be a tight fit."

You whined as he began to work on sinking into you, his hand leaving his cock in favor of gently wrapping around your throat.

Despite his best efforts his fingers hadn't been enough preparation when compared to his cock. Gasping in pain you thrashed beneath him. He shushed you gently, fingers stroking your throat delicately as he speared you open. Little by little he rocked his hips into you, holding you down while you cried out in pain.

"So good, you're doing so good. The worst is over okay princess hold out for me."

You hardly knew what he meant by worst part when it felt like he was never going to bottom out. He brought his face down beside yours, huffing and groaning into your ear until finally he was flush with you, cock buried to the hilt. You were breathing hard, small whines and whimpers slipping past your lips at how he stretched you.

"Oh shit. You- you're fucking perfect."

"Too much, it's too much plea-" much to your frustration his mouth met your own again in order to cut off your protests. He pressed your head into the pillow to try and prevent you from pulling away from him again, hungrily following your escape attempts. The hand he had around your throat receded, only to snake its way between the two of you so he could continue teasing your sensitive clit.

His hips began to move again, assuming he had given you plenty of time to adjust based off the way your pussy clenched around him as if begging for more.

He starting off with the same tempo he had been doing for the majority of the night, so slow it was as if he was teasing you. But as the burning sensation in your poor cunt eased you realized he was doing it for your benefit. He wanted you to enjoy this, needed you to find pleasure and comfort in him. After all this was your first time with him, he wanted to make sure you weren't afraid when he came back for more.

As your whimpers subsided, replaced with hushed moans, only then did Toshinori begin to pick up the pace. Finally he released your mouth from his kiss, both of you gasping for air. He showered you with praise as he fucked into you, deep gravely voice never letting you forget just how much he cared for you.

For your part all you could do was submit to him, letting his deft finger and cock bring you back to the brink of orgasm. Your warm walls fluttered around him as he took you closer and closer, the resounding slap of flesh on flesh filling the room as he lost himself in his own pleasure. He was grounded only long enough to see you through, but as soon as you began to convulse around him, hips bucking and pretty mouth moaning obscenely, his mind blanked out.

He abandoned your clit, hand coming up to join the other and thread his fingers through your own. He hammered into you, painfully drawing out your orgasm as he chased his own climax. The juxtapose of him lovingly holding your hands to his feral thrusts was giving you mental whiplash.

"Yes, yes fuck. So good for me, don't ever leave me again. Shit - fuck I can't lose anyone else."

His thrusts were erratic, your whole body forced to move against his. You had assumed he would cum in you, just as Hizashi and Shouta had already done, but right before he finished he pulled out quickly. Pressing the head of his cock into your skin, hot thick surges of cum covered your stomach. The excess quickly began to drip down the side of your body, mingling with your sweat on the sheets below.

Coming down from his high, his hands were still intertwined with your own, skinny body heaving from exertion. For your part your heart rate had mostly settled after your second orgasm, leaving you effectively spent under him.

You had managed to keep your eyes closed while he had fucked you, only now opening them to find him observing you fondly. Releasing his hold on you he leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed a spare handkerchief, using it to wipe off his cooling cum.

Only when he deemed you properly spotless did he toss the cloth to the floor and flop down in the bed beside you. Drawing your weary body against him he folded around you, capturing you once more in his unrelenting grip.

"I know you haven't been here very long, but I can't help but love you so much it hurts. I'll be good to you if you're good to me okay?"

A meager "m-kay" was all you had it in you to respond with, but it was all the man wanted to hear. With a satisfied hum Toshinori pecked your forehead with one last kiss before you both succumbed to sleep.

[wardenannie]

Hurt Levi pls

I normally don't take tumblr prompts, but for you, anon whose identity is a total mystery to me, I will accept

NSFW under the cut. Also warning for some torture that happens about midway through. Nothing too graphic tho.

-

Kenny captured him as they dueled in the streets of the capital. Levi didn't see the net coming until it was too late. His eyes were locked on the gunslinger, body moving like water as he spun past bullet after bullet, slate eyes trained on Kenny's exposed jugular.

When the net struck him it took his balance with it, and he tumbled two stories to the ground, confused in a pile of weights and rope. He landed with a sickening crunch, the right side of his body slamming brutally into the paving stones.

Levi was stunned, body wracked with agony as his broken bones screamed in complaint.

He could hear his squad calling out for him; "Heichou!" But he could not make out their faces as his vision blurred and dark shadows began to loom over him.

One of those shadows- the tallest, the most menacing- laughed, and then spat in his face. Kenny.

"Gotcha, runt," Levi could hear the sneer in his voice, words dripping with the venom of sordid joy. He struggled, breath coming ragged as panic began to set in.

"Knock him out," Kenny ordered.

A sharp pain radiated up the side of Levi's skull, then everything went black.

He awoke in a dark cell, suspended by iron manacles that dug harshly into his wrists. His shirt was gone, body coated in a fine sheen of cold sweat that shimmered in the dim light of a single, paltry torch.

Levi's head throbbed painfully. The right side of his body was mottled with blue-black bruises. It hurt to breathe, to blink, to think.

But Levi was a survivor, so he pushed through the pain, recalling everything that had brought him to this point. He remembered battling on the streets of the capital. He remembered Kenny shouting his name boisterously. He remembered Nifa's brains being splattered across the rooftops, and he remembered falling, and falling, and falling.

"Shit," he cursed, and he pulled at his restraints. The movement only served to dig the metal more painfully into his flesh, fresh blood running hot down his forearms.

Levi drew in a ragged, fortifying breath, then shouted with all of his remaining might, "Kenny!"

The low tenor of his voice echoed through the subterranean dungeon. A peppering of dust fell from the rafters, disturbed by the sudden noise.

Panting, chest heaving as he bit through another full body wave of pain, he shouted again, louder, with more power and rage behind the name; "KENNY!"

His muscles went limp, body hanging weakly from his shackles, toes dragging on the filthy floor. Everything hurt. It hurt so much. Every fiber of his being seemed to be crying out in red hot pain. His head throbbed, eyes pulsing in his skull. There was a constant pressure in his chest, digging into his lung, a broken rib, more like than not.

Levi huffed a broken sound, hanging his head. He was useless like this, strung up like a fresh kill. He shut his eyes, waiting helplessly for his fate to arrive.

Hange would come for him. He knew she would.

He recalled their parting moment, the people she had loaned him, the people he had gotten killed. He remembered the trust she had placed upon him, that had swirled behind those wine-colored eyes, and somehow he felt even more broken.

"Hange..." He sighed her name, lids fluttering.

He'd been so caught up in his memories that he hadn't heard the telling sound of footsteps on the bricks. Two grizzled, calloused hands gripped the bars mockingly.

Kenny grinned at him from the darkness of the corridor, freshly shaven. Face porous and lined and aged.

"Hey there, runt," he goaded, fingers drumming softly on the bars. Two more people appeared beside him, men, their faces obscured behind black torturer's hoods. Their black eyes flashed menacingly in the torchlight.

"We have a few questions for ya," Kenny produced a key from around his neck and slipped it into the lock. The heavy, barred door opened with a metallic shriek and a muffled kerthunk. He slipped into the cell, body long, thin and skeletal. Behind him the two torturers followed.

Now that they stood in the light Levi could see that they wore the instruments of his torture across their bodies like bandoliers. The knives and scalpels and scrapers all gleamed orange by the light of the torch.

Levi swallowed thickly, giving another weak pull at his shackles.

"Now," Kenny's smile never waned. He laced his fingers behind his back, standing up straight and proud. "Are ya gonna cooperate? Or will we have to do this the hard way."

Levi's lips curled into a snarl. They wanted Hange's location, the location of his squad.

They could rot in hell.

He demonstrated as much by spitting onto the floor in front of Kenny's boot.

"Fuck off."

Kenny puffed his cheeks amusedly, and took a small step backward to make way for the torturers.

"These fellows are good at what they do," Kenny explained softly as they began to pluck their implements from their chests. "They were loaned to me by the king himself."

Levi bared his teeth, refusing to give Kenny anything more than his ire.

Kenny cracked his knuckles, smile shifting to lopsided and entertained, "Alright then, let's begin."

Levi stayed strong. Through it all, he endured. He kept his lips sealed, biting on them until they bled like his exposed nailbeds, like the parallel lines they drew across his belly with their razor sharp knives. He endured when they began breaking nailess toes, and he endured when they moved on to his fingers, peeling the skin back to the first knuckle.

His blood painted the floor in crimson-black drips. His grunts of agony echoed through the dungeon halls in a torturous symphony.

"Where is Hange Zoe?" Kenny asked, obviously beginning to grow exasperated.

Levi showed his teeth, red with blood, red dripping from his nose, "Never." He choked, tasting rust in his mouth. He would die before he gave Hange up. It was her face that lingered in the back of his mind, that bolstered his resolve against their blunted rods as they beat his already broken ribs.

He remembered her smile. Her laughter. They way she smirked when she teased him over his height and cleanliness. He remembered her touch, the fire she awoke inside of him, in his skin.

He remembered Hange. His Hange. And he endured.

Eventually they left him alone. Making sure to snuff out the torch as they went, Levi dangled weakly in the dark. The only sounds were that of his own breathing and his blood dripping steadily onto the floor.

His vision began to fade, sounds growing distant, as though he were submerged beneath dark waves of white hot water. He struggled to breathe, to keep his eyes open. 

Ultimately his struggle was in vain. He fell into viscous, black unconsciousness. 

-

Hange Zoe had never before known fear like this; this terrible, gripping thing that settled in her chest and constricted around her lungs like a parasitic snake. It radiated outward from her center, down her limbs and into her fingertips, numbing them as she gripped the triggers of her ODM gear. 

He had to be alive. He had to be. 

How would she survive if Levi were gone. What would she do? She couldn’t imagine it, that agony which she was barely holding at bay. Were the worst to come to fruition it would surely consume her. 

They busted through the doors of the anti-personnel squad compound. Shattering through them with a battering ram, shards of broken wood raining down on the occupants of the adjacent room; splintering and slicing them. 

Hange grabbed the first man she saw by his collar, hoisting him into the air as her muscles burned. She pressed the edge of her blade to his throat, flashing her teeth, vision blurring red with complete and utter rage. 

“Where is he?!”

Moblit and Levi squad apprehended the others in the room. Binding their hands and feet. Hange simply wanted them dead.

The man dangled in the air, grasping weakly at Hange’s wrist where she held him aloft, “I- I um...” 

“Spit it out or you won’t have a tongue to speak with!” Hange demanded, pressing her blade more insistently to his throat. 

“D-downstairs,” he pointed towards a door with a shaking finger. 

Hange grunted and threw him roughly down onto the floor, leaving him to the rest of the squad. She rushed for the doors, prying a torch off of the wall as she descended into the dark depths of the dungeon. 

Let him be alive, she chanted to herself. Please, whatever gods there may be, let him be alive. 

Kenny was nowhere to be found. The fighting upstairs cleared quickly and soon all of Levi squad was trailing the Section Commander through the dark labyrinth. 

It only took another few moments for them to discover him hanging by his wrists in the dark. He was filthy, covered in blood, sweat, and bruises. His eyes were closed, chest barely rising with stilted breath. 

“Levi!” Hange rasped, gripping the bars. “What did they do to him?” 

She ground her teeth to the point of pain, leaning all of her weight into the bars like she could bend them through sheer force of will alone. The sight of his blood pooling on the floor made her stomach twist, her heart ache. Her mouth was dry and a salient mixture of horror and utter rage pooled in her center. 

Armin was already working on the lock. But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Hange shoved him out of the way and slammed one of her blades down into the rusty lock mechanism over and over. It creaked, shuddered, and then cracked in two under the force of her assault. 

Leaving the rest of the squad in the dust, Hange rushed to Levi’s side, wrapping her arms tenderly around his waist and lifting him so his wrists were no longer being cut by the shackles. 

“Hange,” he choked her name weakly, then spit blood onto the yellow of her shirt. His slate eyes were hooded and distant, dissociative from the pain. 

Armin and Mikasa were working on his restraints. 

“I’m here,” Hange breathed, careful only to touch him where she had to. “I’m here.” 

She wanted to scream at the sight of him. His body was a warzone; brutalized, left sallow and broken. His skin was clammy, breath tinged with the scent of blood. 

“Levi...” she exhaled shakily, and finally the manacles came lose and Levi crumpled into her arms. He buried his face against her neck, and she heard him inhale sharply, painfully. 

Hange bit her lip, cupping the back of his head, stroking his greasy hair gingerly. 

Moblit cupped her shoulder gently, his eyes wide with concern, “Section Commander, we need to go.” 

Hange nodded, lifting Levi protectively into her arms. She wouldn’t let anyone help her. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching him but her. She guarded him carefully all the way back to their hideout, keeping his head nestled safely in her lap as their cart wheeled bumpily along the city streets. 

-

Hange treated his wounds as best she could. She wrapped his tortured fingers and stitched the wounds in his abdomen. She tied his broken toes to unbroken ones and gave him water each hour on the hour. As for his bruises? She could only hope that they were not set too deeply into his muscles and organs. She could only caress delicate fingers over his cheek and pray to whatever merciful gods might exist that he would come out of this trial relatively unscathed. 

Though he would always bare the scars. Reminders of her own failure to protect him; the man she...

She utterly refused to leave his side, not even to report to Erwin. She sent Moblit in her stead. 

And how could she leave him? Her Levi? Her partner in crime? How could she possibly rationalize leaving his side when he was so close to death, when she had nearly lost him. 

She cried softly at night, sat up against a stark brick wall, just feet away from the Captain. She cried because she realized for the first time that she really, truly loved this man. She loved him with each individual fiber of her imperfect being. She loved him, and she had nearly lost him. 

Levi had nearly died. 

“I feel so helpless,” she whispered, blinking back her tears. “Levi, I’m so sorry. If I had just gotten there sooner you might not-

“Shut it, four-eyes,” Levi groused painfully, blinking to wakefulness. His voice was groggy, eyes blurry, but he still managed to reach out and touch Hange. He laid his bandaged had over her own. 

“You’re awake,” Hange exhaled in relief, and she leaned over him slightly, scooting nearer. She could feel the reassuring heat of his body, watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

“Did you...” Levi let out a painful wheeze when he tried to rise onto his elbows. Hange gently coaxed him back into the sheets. “Did you treat me?” 

Hange nodded, sniffing, “I did. We’re still in hiding so we couldn’t call on any actual doctors.” 

Levi swallowed thickly, wounded fingers curling gingerly around her own, “Is Kenny dead?” 

“No, he wasn’t there when we raided the compound.” 

“Shit.” 

“Levi...” Hange leaned closer, looming over him. Her eyes flashed with genuine concern. Her throat suddenly felt too tight, too hot. 

Levi went very still, and for a long moment they simply stared, gazing into one another’s eyes. There was a spark of recognition in Levi’s grey as he reconciled the emotion swirling in Hange’s russet irises. 

“Hange...” 

She kissed him, leaning carefully over his body and sealing their lips in a wet, tearful kiss. Her tongue traced along his lower lip, and he granted her entrance with a soft moan, mimicking her action in turn. Hange cupped his cheek, thumb brushing along his chin. 

When they parted a soft sob wracked through Hange’s body, breath tickling along Levi’s parted lips, tears peppering his cheeks. 

“I almost lost you,” Hange choked. 

Slowly, Levi raised his good arm and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her in for another; slower, more reverent kiss. 

Hange shifted her position over Levi’s body as their tongues and lips worked in tandem. She straddled his left thigh, her own thigh pressing very near to the crux of his legs where he was obviously hard, wearing only a thin pair of sleep pants that Hange had scrounged for him. 

“You almost died,” she said when they parted again. Then she peppered his face with kisses from his forehead to his chin. “I almost lost you, Levi.” 

“We’re soldiers,” Levi spoke, but there was no conviction behind his words. “Soldiers die.” 

Hange shook her head, more tears welling. She bit her lip painfully, and when she opened her mouth to speak only a pained noise managed to eek past her lips. 

“I knew that you would come for me,” Levi admitted after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I knew you’d be the one.” 

Hange nodded fiercely, then kissed him again. Her fingertips teased along the waistband of his pants, and he hummed in silent consent. Hange needed this, they needed this. This kairotic moment to which they had been building for years. This physical expression of their shared need, desires, and- though they did not give it voice- their love. All of it precipitating from such exquisite pain as nearly losing one another. 

When she sank down onto him is was with a soft sigh. He filled her up, made her feel whole in a way she had never known she was missing. She was careful of his broken body, setting a slow, even pace that drove the both of them mad. 

“Hange,” Levi whispered her name. His bandaged hands lifted to hold her hips as she rode him. 

“I love you,” she admitted, ducking her face to hide behind her hair. “I love you and I almost lost you, Levi.”

Tears continued to pepper his face and chest as they made love, Hange gliding gracefully back and forth on him. He even managed to cant his hips slightly to meet her, drawing a quiet moan past her lips. 

They reached climax quickly, peaking together in a moment which Hange could only describe as one of pure light. 

Afterwards she tucked herself into his good side, head resting on his shoulder, cum dripping between her thighs. 

“I love you, short stuff. I love you so much it hurts. And to see you so broken, in so much pain... I can’t.” The tears were flowing again, dampening the sheets. 

“Easy,” he touched her hair. “I’m alive, four-eyes. You saved me.” 

“Not before-

“Hey, enough of that shit,” Levi demanded, though his voice was soft. He inclined his head to kiss Hange’s hair. “I’m alive four eyes. I’m alive because you came for me.”

Hange blinked away her tears and nuzzled into Levi’s neck. Muffled against his skin she breathed, “I love you.” 

Levi closed his eyes. Body still aching, in tatters, but with Hange by his side he felt as though everything might turn out okay. 

He loved her, too.

[after-witch]

Big City (Yandere Shigaraki x Reader)

Title: Big City [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re about to leave for a new university in a new city in a new country. Your friend doesn’t seem pleased. You agree to meet up before you leave in the hopes of keeping your friendship alive.

For request: hi can I request one with maybe yandere dabi or shigaraki (upto you) with a darling who almost barks at them when they get kindapped cause they were about to get into their dream college and were about to fulfill their lifelong dream and now because of the situation its ruined. Like they worked so hard all their life for it. How would they react?

Word Count: 2000-ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping

You mindlessly check your messages for what feels like the tenth time in the last hour, despite knowing what you'd find: no response from Tomura. It was... unusual. A little worrying. But mostly, it was frustrating. You had too much on your plate to deal with managing his moods right now, or managing anything but arranging your flight and your luggage and confirming your schedule for the upcoming university semester.

To say that Tomura had been unusually quiet and unresponsive since you gave him the news would be an understatement. You didn't think it would matter that much. Your friendship was purely online, anyway; he'd shut down the idea of meeting in person, saying he was too shy about his appearance. But you didn't mind. 

You gamed, you texted, you send each other screenshots of people saying ridiculous things online. You talked over the phone about, well, everything. Truthfully, he was your closest friend, though that wasn't saying much. Your family wasn't in the picture, and you found it hard to get close to anyone, found it hard to open up to others.

So when you immediately called him after reading your acceptance letter, gushing about the news, his lack of a response was... deflating. But, you chalked it up to Tomura being... Tomura. Sometimes he got moody or seemed to get annoyed by ordinary things. He gave you a 2-day silent treatment for boasting about getting the autograph of your favorite hero. But you had learned how to navigate his moods for the most part, but it was hard to manage anything when he wouldn't even respond.

You're about to close the app when a message suddenly pops up:

Hey. Sry I haven't been talking. Kind of going through stuff. Since your leaving.... can we meet in person before you go? Just lunch. I'll pay. (Maybe)

Your fingers shake a little above the screen. A first meeting? Now? Right before you leave? You think back to your late night gaming sessions, your conversations, the closeness you feel between you and think--why not?

*You're And...  yes. (NOT MAYBE) Where do you want to go?

**

You lean your back against the brick of the shopping complex and pull out your phone. Tomura had named the time, the place--and asked if you could meet up behind the complex where it would be empty. You agreed, of course. You know that he's shy. Maybe he wanted to meet you without crowds around first. He's a few minutes late so you pull up your messages, thumbing through them without much thought. You're bored. You switch over to your email and recheck your flight schedule, the gate times, the rules and luggage limitations. You've read them a thousand times but each reread brings you closer to a much longed-for reality: an overseas university with a stellar reputation and a practical guarantee of a job in the field after graduation. Sometimes you could hardly believe it.

You're contemplating taking a selfie when a voice suddenly speaks from behind you, distinct and firm.

"Finally."

Before you can turn, before you can think, you feel a sudden grip on your arm--and everything goes black.

**

You wake up some time later. Your head feels fuzzy, your vision slightly off, like you've been napping too hard. Maybe you have, you think, as your vision clears. But you're not in your stripped down bed in your packed-up apartment. 

You blink and blink and take in a bedroom that you've never seen. It's messy, wrappers, cans, paper plates strewn about. The air smells stale. You look down and realize you're sitting on a mattress on the floor. Your hand slips into your pocket for your phone, but it’s not there. Shit. 

Your back is pressed up against the wall which is perfectly fine, because it's then that you see someone sitting on the other end of the mattress.

You jerk back with a start, but there's nowhere to go. The person--a man, you quickly note--is sitting with their legs crossed. Their face is obscured by a dark hoodie and messy hair and you don't even think before you shout out the first words which spring to mind:

"What the fuck?"

The figure gives a chuckle, dry and short. "Sorry. Had to do it this way. Guess you're not used to Kurogiri's quirk, huh."

His voice makes you feel strange. It sounds familiar. It's something you've heard before. On TV, maybe or--oh. Oh.

"Tomura?" The query comes out high-pitched, almost whining. You're in disbelief. It has to be--

Tomura, and his reaction seals it, it definitely is Tomura, practically giggles as he breaths out a sigh. It's an odd sound coming from an imposing figure, but is it really an imposing figure if it's your friend?

He raises his face and the hoodie shifts downward. Your eyes are drawn to his lips, chapped and a bit scabbed over. You want to cringe when he pulls his lower lip back to bite on some of the dry skin.

"Tomura," you say, letting out shaky breaths of your own as the reality of where you are and what's going on begins to seep in, "Tomura, what’s going on? Did I pass out in the parking lot?" He brought you here, maybe. Maybe the blackness was you blacking out and hitting the pavement and that's why your head feels funny and Tomura just brought you to his house because he's so shy that he didn't want to get the attention of the staff at the shop or the police or any random passerby on the street who for some reason didn’t see him dragging you along or--

Your thoughts still race as he snorts. He relaxes a little, his shoulders slumping as he scooches a little closer on the mattress.

"You seriously don't recognize my face?"

You feel your own face scrunch in confusion. Of course you don't recognize his face. Tomura never sent you pictures. He said he was too shy. And, you don't mean to be mean, but you can kind of see why, because--oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

You get it. And he gets that you get it, because he's got this sort of sour smirk on his face as you inwardly ask yourself what in the flying fuck was going on with your life if a notorious villain secretly befriended you then kidnapped you then brought you to his bedroom of all places.

"I don't..." The fuzzy feeling is back as your neck begins to ache and you swear a migraine is coming on. "I don't..." You don't finish, you can't finish.

"You don't what," he spits out, annoyed and frustrated and whereas before his frustration was something for you to manage and recede with silly pictures or playful chiding, for the first time it makes you nervous and you shrink your shoulders in.

"I don't--I'm not," you finally say, you finally do spit out, "I'm not anyone important. I don't know if you're looking for a ransom or... whatever it is you want, but you know I don't have anyone who will pay it."

He scratches at his scalp and sighs, and you recognize in the tone that he's calmed down, somewhat. At least you have that going for you, sitting in the apparent bedroom of a villain. Speaking of--you eye his hands. He follows your look and shoves them in his pockets before speaking.

"You were leaving." He looks away and itches his cheek. "Going to some fancy foreign school. What would you even need that shit for, anyway?"

You stare at him. This feels like a conversation that could have been had, say... over text, not after kidnapping you from behind a cafe.

"It's my dream. I told you about it all the time. I worked my ass off to get a spot at that school."

The numbness of anxiety has begin to edge away and you cross your arms. You don't want to look scared. Or mad. You try to look normal, you try to think normally, because if there's any way you're going to get out of this situation, you have to remain calm. 

You try to imagine that it's 3 am and you're talking on the phone, having an argument, a testy patch of friendship. But it's hard to ignore that he's a villain who brought you here for some unknown reason; a villain who got you to trust him (but why?) and talk to him (but why?) and fuck, how many private things had you told him in the middle of the night? So many texts and emails and late night conversations.

It suddenly dawns on you that you don't know how long you were out. You have a plane to catch and luggage to finish and you're here instead. You take a breath in the hopes of further steadying your nerves. You look at Tomura, who has been watching you for the past minute with an impassive, hard-to-reach expression. 

He doesn't seem to be... threatening. He didn't try to hurt you or threaten to hurt you. Maybe, maybe this was a case of... you know how things can be online. How people can get obsessively attached. Maybe he thought you were dating. Maybe he had a crush and didn't express it and years of isolation made it impossible for him to just y'know, talk to you like a normal person. He's awkward and shy and inappropriate and okay, okay, okay. You can work with this.  You've had your fair share of online... situations. Like most people. You just have to deal with them with delicacy.

You breathe. You smile, a little. And you scooch just a bit closer to Tomura, whose eyes widen in surprise at your movements.

"So... Tomura?" Your voice is soft and placating and oh so very chill. The kind of voice you've used with him before, when he was being a grumpy ass-hat pissed off about losing to you in his favorite game.

"Yeah--Yeah?" He says, clearing his throat. You want to smile harder because you think oh, good, I've got him here.

You mimic his earlier movement and give your hair a little ruffle, a little scratch. "I guess we can just order delivery for lunch, huh? I have to be home by eight, so I can get my stuff together for my flight tomorrow." You give your lip a little gnaw, in a gesture that probably felt cuter in concept than execution. "Oh! Since I can stay a little later, we can totally game while we eat, right? I owe you a rematch for last time."

Saying all this, being so sweet and kind, acting like nothing has changed, feels really, really surreal. But you push through it because the best course of action with guys like these is to placate them and get them to let you go on your way, then ghost like hell once you're out of their reach. And what better way to ghost than to move to a completely different country?

He stares at you for a moment. You think he must have been expecting you to cry or yell or scream or call him a creeper. Which he probably is, but he doesn't need to know that you think that. At least not until you're safe. You see a quirk of a smile before he flat out begins to laugh. It's a hard laugh, a wheezing laugh, one that has him slapping his thigh. Your skin feels light and numb and your body begins to shake a little in uncertainty and anxiety and just a bit  of anger.

And you can't help it, you have a mouth, you really do--

"What the hell is so funny!"

His laugh tapers off and he wipes a bit of drool from his lips (ew) before regarding you with an expression that seems wild and strange and definitely not the response you were expecting.

"Why would you need to catch a flight? You're not going anywhere."

His answer sends an instant ice-cold knot to your stomach. You huff out a breath. Maybe you can still salvage this, maybe.

“C’mon, Tomura.” Keep saying his name, you think. These types of people like it when you acknowledge them. “Don’t be silly. We’ll still talk and game everyday like we always do, and--”

Before you can think he’s suddenly right up against you, his arm pressed up practically against your ear as he looms over you, keeping you pinned to the wall. His eyes look manic and he’s smiling and it’s not a nice smile, but one full of hidden intentions that make your stomach drop and drop and drop.

“Don’t worry. We are going to talk and game everyday. As long as you’re good, anyway.”

You ignore the implications in his words--what does he mean good?--and try to argue, try to reason.

“But… the school… my degree…” You look up so you can blink away tears. You hate crying. “You know what it means to me. It’s my dream,” you whisper. He’s supposed to be your friend, why can’t he see that?

You instinctively begin to shake as you feel a finger pet your cheek. It’s supposed to be soothing, you think, but all you feel is icy anxiety and fear overtaking your nerves. He practically coos at you as he continues, his rough knuckle scratching you.

“Don’t worry. You can always think of a new dream.”

[w00wzerz]

🚃Ticket back to Life🚃

(All that matters in Titans s3 ep 9)

There is so much to talk about, so without further ado, lets get into it!

The episode begins with a seemingly defeated Bruce scanning over his will for a few seconds - hinting at the fact that he will harm himself or is planning to soon move on to the “other side.”

At this moment I had crinkled my bag of Doritos, placed them in the crack of my lap and sat in silence for a few seconds. My mind was working overtime to try and piece together just what the hell was going on. These were my initial thoughts: I would like to sincerely apologize to Dick Grayson and Jason Todd for ever having to put up with Bruce Wayne’s crazy ass. The man is coo coo, he’s unhinged! He’s deranged!

However, upon further evaluation of the scene, I came to the realization that this was simply Bruce’s call for help. He had lived his entire life by attempting to mask his pain, using anything in the book to deter his emotions. Until one day, he ultimately settled on taking in kids who he presumed had developed under similar circumstances.

What Bruce failed to realize is that playing the role of a parent is an upmost emotionally draining task - just ask my mother… By raising his own kids with a shit ton of baggage he would also be signing up to mountain theirs atop his own, crafting an incredibly unstable terrain that would inevitably come crashing down.

Now we know where Dick and Jason get their compartmentalism from.

Moving on to my girl Rachel in Themiscyra! You know things are pretty bad when Rachel starts to complain about training too much, seeing as that was all she ever did over at Titans tower.

However, it seems that her hard work has paid off as she has awakened a heightened sense of urgency in her movements - her coordination skills have also improved significantly, as shown below.

Such a badass scene! ☀️

Upon their very first introduction, it is safe to say that Donna establishes an instant connection with the terrified kid who jumped from the train - Tim Drake. It could be the gravitational pull and familiarity with his fear that peaked her interest because of how similar it was to her own, or she could’ve just wanted to make sure that he was okay. And I am willing to bet on ALL OF IT.

Secondly can we all just take a minute to celebrate Donna’s long awaited return! I have never been more excited for the revival of a character. Now Kory can finally have some grown up friends 🥂

After Tim and Donna linger for a-bit in the woods, they meet up with none other than Hank himself. Of course he would be the one to appear out in the middle of nowhere, in an old fashioned car after his death. I wouldn’t have accepted it any other way.

I also have to admit that I was pretty psyched to see Hank again. Do not quote me on this, but a tiny piece of me had missed his annoyingly snarky ass.

Was anyone else feeling some serious 21 jump street vibes from this lttle road trip scene? No… just me? Okay.

Once they’re all familiar with one another Hank begins to take a subtle interest in Tim. As my senses began tingling once more, the pieces had somehow found their way together. Despite the tough ass persona he displayed for the other members of the Titans, Hank has always had a soft spot for kids. Which would also explain why he was killed by Jason in the first place - because he thought he could save Jason from himself. A part of him still feels like an idiot for falling for the false vulnerability that was expressed by Jason on the phone that day.

And no I wasn’t crying at Hank’s farewell, you were 🥲

I was disappointed at first after treading on the idea that they would all return back together. But after viewing Hank’s reunion with his brother, I think it’s safe to say that I’m pretty glad that he decided not to miss out on that drastic part in his journey. Plus who knows, maybe another portal will open again after a few years and they’ll both be back to kick some ass. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Below is another example of Donna’s rocky, yet emotional connection between herself and Tim. And I say rocky because it doesn’t seem that she even realizes it herself, but she loves my little Tim baby!

Tim just has a way of interacting with folks that evokes a sense of urgency to protect him. I also believe that it must be fate that is drawing them all towards each other, especially when taking into account that Tim has practically met almost every member of the Titans dead or alive - by accident.

As you can see below, a teary eyed Donna watches as young Tim fades away into obscurity from her very own finger tips.

And as his body slowly disintegrates she makes it her mission to assure him that he is fact not a coward and that above everything else, he is a hero in her eyes. Now if that doesn’t get the waterworks flowing, I don’t know what will.

————————————

A recurring theme that I’ve noticed throughout the past three episodes is the current writers obsession with fire.

Fire = destruction. 🔥

Even as Bruce set a flame to Wayne’s manor he intended to destroy not only his home, but as well as himself along with it. Could fire represent what is to come in the near future for the Titans? Or am I sipping too much gatorade? I guess we’ll have to wait and see folks. Until next time! ✨😙💜

[duskholland]

Maybe like a protective mob!Tom? Like say you two had a mini fight one morning and then something happens during the day? Nothing major bad but enough to set off protect mode Tom? And then some goooood fucking

shit. yes. im a slut for desperate i-almost-lost-you moments.

18+ !!!! contains nsfw material incl smut and mob themes. extended warnings beneath the cut.

-- it’s mob monday!! --

warnings: gun violence, minor injury, blood, death (i promise you it’s not that intense or important), needy protected MxF sex, kinda possessive mob!tom (but it's hot), fingering (fem receiving),

---------

The argument comes from nowhere. One moment you’re laying around in bed, tangled up with Tom and the warm sheets, the next you’re pacing around in front of the mattress, tugging at your hair in frustration. 

“You’re being unreasonable, Y/N,” Tom chides, staring at you hard. He’s sitting up against the headboard, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are narrowed and dark, stirring with irritation. 

“I’m being unreasonable?” You respond, unable to keep the tone of incredulity from your voice. “Tom, I’m telling you, that guy is dirty. It’s not unreasonable to try and warn you.” You pause, clenching your hands into fists. “It’d be nice if you’d trust me, for once. I’m not an idiot.”

Oh, and Tom really doesn’t like that. His eyebrows pull together and he sits up a little straighter, the duvet falling down to his waist. You briefly make note of the curved lines of his torso, all defined and glowing gold in the morning sun, but you’re too angry to focus on his muscles for long. 

“I do trust you, Y/N,” he replies, his voice a little harder, “But Rob’s been on the staff for three years. He’s not dirty. If he makes you uncomfortable, I can station him outside the house, but he’s loyal. I have no doubts about him.”

“Then why did I catch him snooping around in here the other day?”

Tom looks a little startled by this, but he maintains his firm stance. “Maybe he was just doing surveillance?” “Whatever.” You kick at the ground, frustrated. You don’t like the energy rippling between you, so you release a deep sigh and turn around. “I’m going to take Tess out. See you later, Tom.”

Your boyfriend graces you with a frustrated groan. “Fine. See you at lunch.”

You love Tom. You really, truly do. But he’s possibly the most stubborn man you’ve ever met, and his field of work means he trusts his own instincts and judgements above all else. It doesn’t matter that you have valid concerns: if Tom has decided his men are loyal, then his men are loyal, and that’s that. And you understand why he functions like that - because if he was constantly questioning the loyalty of his men, he’d go crazy - but it doesn’t mean you appreciate having your concerns brushed aside.

You spend all day milling around the mansion, trying your best to calm down and placate yourself. You almost talk yourself out of your concerns, until you walk into the living room, hear the low metallic clink of a gun being cocked, and feel the cold metal of a gun's barrel press against your temple.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, pet.” It's Rob, with that disgusting sly smirk on his face. He seems entirely too smug as he continues, “You’re going to give me the combination to the main safe, and then I’ll let you go. If you scream, I won’t hesitate to put this bullet through your skull. You understand?”

You exhale a deep, shaky breath. Of fucking course.

“Rob, you do realise Tom’s going to put you in the ground for this, yeah?” You respond. You wince as the large man presses the gun further into your head.

“The combination,” he repeats, gritting his teeth. 

You let your tongue wander across your lower lip as you ponder your predicament. “I don’t know the combination,” you lie. Your eyes wander around the living room, settling over each of the obscured panic buttons. You know Rob is probably aware of some of them, but you doubt he knows where all of them are; Tom had had more installed across the mansion when you’d moved in, just in case a scenario like this ever came about. 

“Bullshit.” Rob moves closer, and he grabs your arm, squeezing your flesh tightly in his grotty hand. You wince at the pain but stay still as he presses the gun further into your temple. “You know it, Y/N. I know you do. What’s it going to take for me to get it out of you?” 

And shit, you really don’t like the way he’s looking at you, so you decide to break out one of your favourite tricks.

“Uh oh, Rob, I think I’m going to pass out,” you feign. You do your best to strap a woozy, distant expression to your face and you stagger to the side, managing to slip out from both Rob’s grip and the gun. 

“Hey, come back!” He exclaims, lunging after you, but you’re faster. You make it over to the coffee table and manage to press the very large, red panic button in the centre of the table. “Oh, you fucking bitch-”

It’s a very discreet button. No alarms ring out, but you know it’ll be a matter of seconds before you’re joined by one of the guards. Unfortunately for you, Rob is glaring at you in a fit of anger, and he flicks off the safety of the gun and shoots at you. 

“Shit,” you exclaim, darting to the side. You aim for the sofa, deciding that ducking down behind it is probably your best bet, but you find yourself crying out as a bullet lightly grazes your arm. You crash onto the floor and wince, your arm throbbing as a fresh trail of blood drips out over your skin. You swear him out some more as you settle behind the sofa, your heart hammering at about a thousand beats a minute.

Just as Rob’s about to turn the corner and gain a clear shot at you, the door to the living room bursts open and you see a few of Tom’s guards take him down. There’s another crack of the gun, a loud groan, and you watch as Rob collapses onto the floor, bleeding from his forehead.

“Oh, fuck, darling, what happened? Are you okay?” Tom’s immediately by your side, his eyes wide and his face pale. He crouches beside you, his warm hands padding over your arms as he inspects your bullet wound. “That fucker-”

“I told you so,” you manage, drawing a very tight laugh from Tom. You wince as Tom grabs a blanket from the sofa and uses it to apply pressure to your arm. “Told you he was dirty.”

“Yeah.” Tom cranes his neck back and calls out for one of his men to bring the doctor, then he returns his attention to you. With his clean hand, he cups your cheek and brings you in for a very desperate, needy kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you, darling.”

You give him a soft smile. “You should’ve, yeah,” you agree. “It’s okay though. You’re here now. And I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere any time soon.” Your eyes drift out over to the corpse, and a shiver rolls down your spine as you see the pool of rippling blood spread out across the floor.

“I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the day,” Tom promises intensely. His thumb pads over your cheek and he looks at you strongly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And Tom really takes that promise to heart. He spends the rest of the day by your side, doting on you, laying lavish praise upon you. He holds your hand as you get a few stitches, and then he feeds you ice cream, and then he pours you an incredibly large, bubbly bath, and he plays with the ends of your hair as you relax together in the water.

By the time it’s reached 9pm, he’s laying you down on the mattress and pressing desperate, needy kisses all up and down your neck, nuzzling his face into your shoulder as he goes. His hands cling to yours, and your eyelids flutter shut as he kisses your neck, over and over, spreading warm pecks all across your skin. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear, before leaving a soft kiss to your lobe. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You shiver, the husky tone of his voice making the heat in your stomach twitch to life. You reach down and slip your hands beneath his shirt, and use your grip to lever him nearer. Tom kisses you hungrily, and you enjoy feeling his back muscles tense as you prise open his lips with your tongue.

“What do you want?” Tom mumbles, his hands curving all over your face. He holds your cheeks in his palms, thumbs skimming over your cheekbones, fingertips dipping into your hair as his tongue lazily licks into your mouth. 

“You,” you respond. You break away from his lips to pant for air, and your hand tugs his shirt. “I need you, Tom, please.” Your body aches for him. With all the caresses and the coddling and the love he’s been showing you, it’s like it’s strung up all of your affection, and now your body craves a deeper connection. You can feel the wet patch spreading from your centre as one of his hands travels down between your legs, slipping beneath the band of your leggings and digging under your panties.

A high whine slips through your lips as you feel him slip two digits into your heat, your wet walls fluttering around his touch.

“Always such a wet pussy for me, isn’t it?” He murmurs. Tom’s fingers continue to stroke through your hair, his lips nudging against yours as he kisses you, his mouth swallowing your moans as he slowly opens you up. You buck down against his touch, grabbing at his back as his fingertips nestle deep within you. 

“I love you,” you say, your mind slipping away. Your face feels hot as you listen to the sounds of your arousal, and as Tom fucks his fingers into you faster, you realise you can’t go another minute without him. “Fuck me, Tom. I need you.”

Tom gives you a firm nod, and he shifts his fingers from inside you. There’s a brief intermission as you both shed your clothes and he finds a condom, but then he’s laying you back in the centre of the bed and he’s caging you in with an arm either side of your head. He kisses you again, and his lips stay attached to yours as he slowly works himself inside you, cock slipping into your wet heat easily. You’re snug around him, and you throw your head back as you marvel at the perfect fit. 

“I love this cunt,” Tom mutters against your hairline. He shifts his position so he’s cradling you, one arm wrapped around your back, the other resting beside your head. “It’s my cunt, isn’t it?” 

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you grip to his sweaty back, your thoughts blurry from the pleasure rippling out from between your legs. “Yes, Tommy,” you whimper. “All yours.” You part your thigh and angle your hips further up, and you cry out as he hits against that spongy, intimate spot buried up against your stomach. “I’m yours.”

“That’s right, angel.” He rolls his hips against yours, and his lips press over your face. He leaves a trail of love across your cheeks and your forehead, and it feels so intimate it brings tears to your eyes. “Mine.” His fingers draw loose, wobbly patterns across your cheek. “Mine.” His lips are on yours, burning hotly to your mouth. “Mine.” He snaps his hips harder and you cry out. “Gonna rub that clit for me, darling?” 

You nod, and your hand fits down between your legs. It’s very tight because Tom’s pulled you so close to him there’s barely a gap, but you manage to wiggle your index finger into your slit. You rub quick circles over your bud and you release a string of inarticulate noises.

It’s so much. Tom’s cock pressing into you again and again, unrelenting; his lips on yours, kissing you firmly, never letting your lips slip away from his; his hand, wrapped around your back, pushing you into him. You feel him everywhere, and it’s a bliss like you’ve never felt before.

“Are you going to cum for me, gorgeous?” He asks, voice deep. You’re clenching around his cock, your breathless moans pulling tighter, higher. “I want to feel you, darling. Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He tightens his grip and his fingers burn into your back, and then his lips are sucking and licking over your neck, and it feels so utterly overwhelming that you find yourself falling apart. 

You spasm on the mattress, your thighs twitching as you let him fuck you through it. Tom’s peaking soon after you, and the frenzied heat to his actions propels you further. Your nails dig into his back and he groans loudly at the ache, but you know he loves nothing more than your marks across his skin. A sign of your presence, of your love. That’s why you enjoy his strong bites and kisses along your neck so much.

“Fucking beautiful,” Tom mutters, finally stilling his actions. His cock stays buried inside you as he sits up on his biceps, his lips finding yours in a warmer kiss. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” 

The desperate edge to his voice makes you melt, and you find yourself nodding as you bring your hands up. You sweep his sweaty curls away from his forehead and admire his face: flushed, a little sweaty, but full of breathtaking adoration. 

“I love you too, Tom,” you reply. You lean up and peck his nose and his low chuckle makes you grin. “You gonna learn to start listening to me, from now on?”

He hums in immediate agreement. “Absolutely. I trust you completely, love. I’m sorry I didn’t listen earlier.”

You just shrug, a large smile hanging from your lips. “Well, you’ve made it up to me now.” 

Tom kisses your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Good.” He pulls away to wink at you. “If you want me to make it up to you some more, just let me know.”

You bark out a laugh and nod affirmatively.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I definitely will.”

[justaswampdemon]

The Place You Need To Reach

Finally finished the first chapter of a Buck Begins fic I started...when the episode airs...Biggest of shoutouts to @marjansmarwani for the title help and also all the support and encouragement.  You’re the best!

Read it here on AO3

Bobby’s phone rings loud from the night table, waking him with a start. Looking at the clock he groans, 12:45am glaring at him. Whatever irritation he feels is quickly overridden by Captain Mode. He reaches for his phone, already concerned. It skyrockets to worry when he sees Buck’s name lighting up his screen. He’d been worried when they found out Buck’s parents were visiting. The few vague things he’s heard plus what he's been able to piece together did not paint a pretty picture. Then this morning Buck had been waling on the punching bags while Eddie watched with carefully hidden concern. Bobby had hoped that had gotten some of the overwhelming emotions out, helped the kid get back on solid ground, but a call any time after midnight is never a good sign.

“Buck?” He sits up, getting a grumble from where Athena had been tucked against his shoulder. There’s no answer, just shaky breaths barely audible. “Buck what’s wrong?”

Athena rubs her eyes and turns her laser focus on her husband as she wakes up fully.

Another stuttering breath, followed by a sniffle and all the parental warning bells in Bobby’s head are going haywire. “Buck, c’mon kiddo I need you to talk to me here.”

“Bobby…” Buck sounds wrecked, his voice trembling and small. He sounds young and scared and Bobby shares a nervous look with Athena.

“Where are you?” He starts simple, all his first responders training kicking in to get Buck somewhere safe.

“Um...I just kind of started driving…” The pause on the other end of the line is agonizing. “I’m by the pier.”

That sends all kinds of alarms off in his head again. Buck drove to the pier, completely without thinking, and Bobby changes tactics slightly. He doesn’t just need to get Buck somewhere safe, he needs to get Buck here. “Are you ok to get here or do you need me to pick you up?” He’d drive to the middle of nowhere to get Buck if that’s what the kid needed.

“I can drive.” There’s a hint of stubbornness back in his voice, but it does nothing to settle Bobby’s nerves.

“Ok.” Bobby slips into Captain mode, hoping it helps keep Buck focused and present. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, and come straight here. Can you do that?”

Buck takes a few breaths, gathering himself and when he answers he sounds at least a bit more like himself. Athena is already up, changing into lounge clothes and grabbing her phone. “Yeah Cap, I can do that.”

He nods, more to himself, “good job Buck. You stay with me alright? You don’t have to talk, just listen to my voice and focus on driving.” Grabbing a sweatshirt and his slippers, he tucks the phone against his ear. Buck is so quiet, it’s possibly the longest the kid has gone without talking, especially to Bobby. He always has an obscure fact to share, knowing his Captain was always interested. Sometimes they were ridiculous, or it was something Bobby already knew, but they had bonded over loving weird facts. The way Buck had lit up when he realized Bobby was actually interested had firmly placed him in Bobby’s heart.

Making his way into the kitchen he sees Athena putting the kettle on, kissing her cheek and getting a supportive one armed hug. “How we doin Buck?”

“Almost there.”

“Ok, you’re doing good.” There’s another shaky exhale, and something close to a sob breaking from Buck’s throat. “Hey did you know Einstein issued the patent for Toblerone chocolate?” He doesn’t wait for a response, knows the words don’t matter as much as just having Buck hear his voice. “He was working at the patent office as a way to occupy his brain while figuring out equations.” He keeps offering up facts as he opens the front door. As soon as a familiar jeep parks behind his truck he hangs up.

He meets Buck half way, taking in the hunch of his shoulders and the way he avoids meeting Bobby’s eyes. Wrapping an arm around him he guides the kid inside and gets him settled on the couch.

Athena presses a cup of tea into his hands, sitting next to him with a gentle hand on his arm. Buck deflates at the contact, still not meeting either of their eyes. “What happened Buckaroo?”

Buck’s quiet, mouth twisting and leg bouncing. They give him time, let him gather his thoughts. “I was doing so good...I was getting better and in two dinners they’ve just…undone it all.” He breaks off into a sob and Bobby is moving before he realizes it, sitting on Buck’s other side and pulling him into his arms as Athena takes his mug from shaking hands. Buck falls apart in front of their eyes, years of hurt finally breaking free. “They never...they never cared. When they’d look at me it was like they were staring right through me, they’d barely acknowledge I was there unless I was hurt or I fucked up…then they’d have to look at me…but I was never enough and I tried.” He sounds almost pleading as he chokes the words out through tears. “Bobby, I really tried to be good enough for them to love me and all they could say was how difficult I made it...how difficult we made it for them. I just wanted them to love me and instead they gave up on me.”

“Buck you listen to me right now. You do not have to earn your parents love.” Athena holds his face in her hands, trying to get him to look at her. “Kids are difficult. That’s just called being a kid. Our job as parents is to love our kids no matter what. We love you, no matter what, and we are so so proud of the man you are.”

His eyes meet Athena’s for a moment and then go blank again. A harsh laugh grates out of his chest, “they never even wanted another son...they never wanted me.”

“Buck, what do you mean another son?” Bobby tries to think back on what he knows about Buck’s family, but as far as he’s heard it’s just him and Maddie.

Bobby lets him free of the hug as he tries to get the words out. “I had a brother…he was older and he got sick. They needed bone marrow and no one else in our family was a match.” The pieces fall into place and Bobby wants to vomit. Buck was a savior baby, and like he could hear Bobby’s thoughts he closes his eyes against fresh tears. “They had me for parts. But it didn’t work and Daniel died…and they were stuck with me when I’d already failed to do the only thing I was made for.”

Over where Buck has hunched back over, hiding his face in his hands, Athena and Bobby share a shocked and horrified look. Without hesitating Athena wraps him in a protective hug, eyes fierce even as her voice murmurs comforting nonsense. On the table Bobby’s phone rings, a quick glance showing Eddie’s calling. Bobby places a steady hand on his back, “I’m guessing Eddie’s looking for you? Do you want me to tell him where you are?”

Without moving from the safety of Athena’s arms Buck nods and lets out another choking sob. “I was supposed to come over for movie night…After I left Maddie’s I just sort of, I don’t know I guess I checked out. I don’t even know what time it is.” Suddenly he sits straight up, eyes wide. “Shit! I missed movie night! And it’s probably the middle of the night and I woke you up and—”

Before he can work himself into a full panic Bobby squeezes his shoulder. “It’s ok Buck, we’re here for you whenever you need us. Don’t worry about what time it is.” Internally he’s trying not to let the terror of Buck so out of it he completely lost himself cloud his mind. He needs to keep a clear head, needs to be the steady rock Buck is searching for. “Now do you want me to tell Eddie you’re here?”

“He’s worried I bet…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry him.”

Grabbing his phone Bobby stands and sees multiple missed calls from Eddie and Chimney, “he’ll understand just like we do. We’re all here for you Buck, you’re not alone.” Athena hands Buck his tea, coaxing him to take a few sips while he calls Eddie back. After one ring it picks up and Eddie’s frantic voice fills his ear. “Cap, we can’t find Buck. I don’t know what happened when he went over to Chim and Maddie’s but she’s almost inconsolable and Chimney is flipping out. He won’t answer the phone and he was supposed to come over. Albert said he never went back to the loft either…”

Quickly he steps outside, not wanting Buck to hear how scared Eddie sounds, it would only make him feel worse. “Eddie, take a breath, Buck is here.” He’s about to say that Buck’s alright but there’s no way Eddie would buy it. “He’s here and he’s safe. We’ve got him.”

There’s a sigh of relief and no small amount of swearing in Spanish. “Ok…ok good. I’ll text Chim and let him know.” A pause and then a little quieter, “do you know what happened?”

“His entire world just got turned upside down, it’s not my place to say any more than that…but he’s going to need us, need you, more than ever.” Glancing inside he sees his wife pulling Buck to lean against her again, a strong arm around his shoulders.

“Whatever he needs.” Eddie says simply, a little bit of calm working through his voice now that he knows Buck is safe. “Can Christopher and I come over tomorrow?”

“Of course, I’ll make breakfast.” Thank god they’re off shift tomorrow, Bobby has no idea how they’d manage to convince Buck to take the day off. The kid would almost immediately take it as a sign he’d done something wrong. So much of his behavior, his actions, are suddenly making sense and Bobby would very much like to have strong words with Buck’s parents. “Get some rest Eddie, I’ll call you if anything changes but we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right, thank you Bobby.”

“Of course Eddie, take care of yourself and get some sleep.” Bobby hangs up and walks back inside and immediately Buck’s eyes shoot to his. “He’s not mad Buck, he’s just worried about you. I told him to bring Christopher over for breakfast.”

Buck looks completely drained as he sags with relief. His eyes are red and puffy and exhaustion radiates from every line of his body. With a quick squeeze Athena stands, “I’ll get the guest room all set up for you.” Buck looks like he’s about to apologize and Bobby’s heart breaks. “Don’t you dare apologize,” Athena says firmly. “You’re not being any trouble and we want you here. I know I’ll feel better if I know you’re here safe and sound.”

“Thank you…” Buck smiles at her, still subdued but genuine. Athena pauses to kiss the top of his head before heading down the hallway. Bobby takes her place on the couch and can’t help wrapping an arm around Buck in another protective hug. “I think you and Athena have hugged me more tonight than my parents have in my whole life…” Buck admits and Bobby wants to smack some sense into these people.

Anyone who’s spent more than 15 minutes with Buck can tell he thrives on physical contact. He takes every opportunity to be close to the people he loves. It’s the most obvious with Eddie, who’s always accepted Buck into his personal space even before they started to slide from friends to more, but Buck is quick with his affection and gets this almost surprised glee when he gets some in return. He soaks up love like a sponge and now they know why.

Athena comes back a few minutes later, giving them a fond look. “What do you think kiddo? Wanna try and get some sleep?” Bobby asks, rubbing a hand over Buck’s back.

“Yeah…I’m pretty drained Pops.” Together they stand up from the couch and follow Athena through the hallway.

“I put a pair of Bobby’s sweat pants and a sweatshirt on the bed.” Athena hugs him again, managing to tuck him against her so Buck looks small in her arms. He sniffles a little and steps back with a twist to his mouth.

Giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder, Bobby smiles at him. “We’re at the end of the hall if you need us.” Buck surprises him by reaching out and wrapping his arms around Bobby, squeezing tight before stepping back with a nod. “Thanks again…Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Buckaroo.” Athena smiles and grabs Bobby’s hand as they head to their room. They hear the door shut just as they shut their own and Bobby’s shoulders sag. Athena on the other hand starts pacing, eyes stormed over. “No wonder he was like that when he first came here. It was probably the only way he thought he could get any attention…we see it all the time with neglected kids.” Suddenly she pauses, spinning to face Bobby. “And Maddie! They probably made her keep it a secret…that poor girl had to just ignore that her brother had died and become a parent to the other one.”

Bobby rubs his hands over his face. “Eddie said she’s beside herself…inconsolable is the word he used…”

“I’ll call her in the morning and check on her.” Athena decides, finally crawling back into bed. Joining her under the covers, Bobby pulls her into his arms and takes comfort in the way she grips him just as tight. It’s a long time before they manage to fall asleep.

~~

Buck leans against the door as it shuts. He feels…empty isn't the right word. More like he's been hollowed out and filled with cotton stuffing, nothing left in him but lumps and cheap fiber. Pulling his wallet and keys out of his pocket he tosses them on the night table, pausing as he pulls his phone out next. He turns it over in his hands as he sits on the bed, debating turning do not disturb off or ignoring the shitstorm that's probably growing in his notifications.

Taking a deep breath he sets it down and changes into his borrowed pjs. The sweatpants are a little big but actually long enough for once, and the sweatshirt is just loose enough it wraps him in comfort. Curling up under the blankets, Buck lets the feeling of safety wash over him. Snatching his phone from where he’d set it on the table he checks his battery life. It’s low but enough for him to pull up his recent calls and quickly select Eddie’s name.

It’s only two rings before the line picks up, “Buck?”

“Hey Eds…”

“Buck, baby are you ok?” Eddie goes from groggy to awake in a heartbeat and Buck closes his eyes against the worry staining his voice.

“Not really…no, but I’m better than I was.” He’s too tired to pretend right now, breath hitching, “I’m so sorry Eddie…I know Christopher is probably mad at me and I’m sure you are too 'cause I let him down and I didn’t mean to worry you…”

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok Buck.” Eddie cuts off the frantic apologies that seem to be forcing themselves from his throat. “Take a breath for me.”

There’s no way Buck can resist the softness in his words, following the gentle instructions until his breathing settles down. “I’m not mad Buck,” Eddie continues now that Buck’s not halfway to hyperventilating, “and neither is Christopher. We were worried about you, but you’re somewhere safe and that’s what matters.”

“Did you tell Maddie and Chim where I was?” Buck knows he probably did, he highly doubts they didn’t blow Eddie’s phone up when Buck went radio silent.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, “yeah…They were terrified.” Buck feels a weird mix of guilt and anger flare up, and Eddie reads his mind as always. “I also told them to let you come to them, and to give you some space.” He hears the shifting of blankets before Eddie continues, “I know that whatever happened feels like your entire world just blew up…But remember that me and Christopher are here and we love you. Whatever it was, we'll be right here with you, ok?”

“Ok…I love you both too.” Buck wraps Eddie’s words around him, another layer of warmth under the borrowed sweatshirt. “Hey babe?” Eddie hums in questions. “Can you stay on the phone a little longer?”

“Yeah, I’m here Buck, for as long as you need me.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, a few murmured words of comfort and affection passed back and forth, but eventually Buck hears Eddie’s breathing even out and lets it soothe him enough to close his own eyes.

[nitewrighter]

I just finished reading the pre-fall Gency argument fic that you made in response to an ask/prompt about another fic, and it’s amazing! Do Genji and Mercy make up after their argument, though? Does Genji tell Mercy more about what really happened with Moira in the Pining/Flight fic, and does he manage to explain to her why he felt he should still be stopping the Shimada clan (the part where he started to trip over his words during the pre-fall argument)? I’m so sorry for all the questions, but I loved this fic so much and would love to see them resolve their argument!

Yeah they make up, but more importantly have you ever gone, “OH FUCK I FIGURED OUT HOW TO WORK THIS FIC INTO A MAJOR CANON PLOT POINT?” Anyone?

Continuing off of this ficlet.

----

Genji lay on his narrow bed, staring at the too-high ceiling of his quarters and replaying the argument between himself and Mercy in his head as he had done so for the past few days.

I messed up.

A part of him felt like he should be used to it, after years of Hanzo telling him he was an embarrassment, but this stung differently and deeper. It wasn’t not meeting the draconian standards of the clan, it was realizing he had a perspective on death that was fundamentally incompatible with the morals of someone he cared for deeply. He glared at the ceiling as he remembered Moira’s words.

You’re finally understanding the difference between those up there, and those of us down here.

But McCree had spoken up against what Reyes had done. He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole mission. 

Well he and Angela were close so... Genji’s thoughts trailed off then, wondering if Ziegler and McCree would talk about how he and Reyes were monsters.

Even after having his body destroyed and reconstructed to this patchwork of flesh and metal, it had at least given him focus and purpose: vengeance. It was a relief from all the pain to commit himself to the destruction of the Shimada clan, to killing Hanzo, and he could have done that through Blackwatch, but now one death of someone who definitely had it coming had blocked the path. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, and he had just alienated one of the few people at the Watchpoint he actually liked talking to. But she didn’t get it, the Shimada clan had to be stopped. Hanzo had to die. What kind of world did she think she was living in? He raised his prosthetic hand and ran the thumb of his organic hand along the lines of its plates.

You’re not a weapon. I can’t let everything Overwatch touches become a weapon...  he remembered her words from the garden on a night that felt so long ago.

So what am I? Shimada Ninja? Blackwatch Agent? Assassin by another name?  Machine? his eyes trailed to his organic hand, Man?

He let his hands drop, hanging over the sides of the bed, I guess I’ve managed to screw up as every single one of those.

His morning alarm started beeping and he sighed. Cybernetics always woke him up a little too early.

After freshening up in the dormitory washrooms and dressing , Genji stepped out of his quarters and walked down the hall to the main body of the Blackwatch facilities. There were fewer bodies moving between the offices today. A significant number of office workers and agents had been either suspended or relocated to other Overwatch operations, and the remaining faces looked exhausted and grim.

It’s not just Angela dealing with the fallout of Venice... thought Genji as he walked through. He needed to talk to McCree, he decided. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to Angela yet. A part of him knew he needed to apologize, but another part of him knew an apology was worthless without a clear adjustment in behavior and perspective--and with the path before him so obscured now, he wasn’t sure what that shift would entail. Plus if anyone knew how to smooth things over between people, especially someone also from Blackwatch...

Genji’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard muffled shouting from Reyes’s office.  He looked around and saw what few agents were down in the Blackwatch offices had all chosen to give Reyes’s office a massively wide berth. One intern lingered close to the glass with wide eyes before being quickly escorted away by a more seasoned-looking clerk. The glass walls around Reyes’s office had been tinted opaque, but he made out Morrison’s muffled voice.

“---can assure you our agents and local law enforcement are doing everything they can, Gérard--”

“Don’t give me that!” Gérard was the shouter, something that sounded unnatural to Genji given how polite Gérard had always been in his previous brushes with the UN Attaché. “None of this would have happened if you had kept Reyes and his team where they needed to be!”

“We don’t have enough intel on Talon movements to know the timeframe on---”

“We have even less intel because of the shit you pulled in Rialto! Do you know how many active files I had to surrender to the UN Inquiry to keep Blackwatch from being completely gutted?!” Gérard snapped, “Talon took my wife and thanks to you I have to deal with that with both hands tied behind my back!”

“You’re not dealing with it alone--” Morrison was trying to reassure him.

“Morrison I cannot tell you how sick I am of covering for you covering for Reyes--And the fact that covering for Reyes is largely my job speaks to how much control you’ve ceded--” Gérard snarled.

“Chewing us out won’t get her back,” Reyes’s voice cut in bitterly.

“No, but you should both understand it’s one more product of your mistakes,” Gérard’s voice was thick.

Genji hadn’t realized how close he was leaning to the tinted glass of the office and started briskly walking down the hall, trying to put as much distance between himself and whatever was going down between Reyes, Morrison and LaCroix.  He heard the door slide open and shut and picked up the pace of his walk. He heard bitter muttering in French a ways behind him before hearing, “Agent Shimada?”

Genji pretended not to hear and started walking a bit faster down the hall.

“Agent Shimada!” there was a rapid clacking slap of expensive oxfords on the cement floor and Gerard suddenly caught up with him. Fast, was all Genji thought at first, I guess he was a field agent at some point-- But that trail of thought cut off as Genji took in the disheveled appearance of the usually suave and stylish Gérard Lacroix. Licks of dark hair were shrouding one side of his forehead, broken free of their usual glossy black coif. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or tie, his sleeves rolled and rumpled up to his elbows and his usually paper-crisp collar rumpled and wilting, his suspenders emphasizing all the wrinkles of his usually immaculate shirts. He smelled like cigarettes. Genji didn’t even know he smoked. 

“I need to talk to you--it’s paramount importance--Your dossier said Talon tried to recruit Sojiro once--Yes?”

“Um... yes?” said Genji.

“Do you remember any names from that time?” Gérard gripped Genji’s shoulders and Genji’s arms tightened at his sides at the touch, Gérard’s eyes were wide, pleading.

“Er...” Genji hesitated.

“Anything. Any name at all. Even aliases are a lead. Code names are a cypher. I can figure this out. We can get her back--we have to--there should have been demands--there have to be demands--we can’t negotiate but we can buy time--isolate the signal--” Gérard’s fingers were drumming on Genji’s prosthetic shoulder as if punching out sums on an invisible calculator. He wasn’t even looking at Genji.

“I... wish I could help,” Genji’s words came slowly to him. They felt strange, soft, helpless. He really couldn’t remember any names from that time, at least none that he could be sure he actually remembered and hadn’t just pulled out of nowhere that would only lead Gérard on a wild goose chase. For Genji, the only really memorable part of that meeting had been Hanzo had taken a shine to some Talon lieutenant and refused to tell Genji about it when he asked.  

So much for specialized Shimada intel... Genji thought a little bitterly. But Gérard stared straight into Genji’s eyes and Genji saw a flicker of heartbreaking realization in Gérard’s expression.

“....listen to me,” Gérard’s voice dropped slightly as his hands dropped from Genji’s shoulders, “I....I’m talking to a suspended agent hoping for nearly decade-old leads...” Gérard made a sound that was between a chuckle and stuffing down a sob as he pushed those dark licks of hair from his face, “I’m a mess without her.”

Genji’s stomach stung a little at the words ‘suspended agent.’ It had felt so temporary but hearing it from Gérard made it sink in as a reality with no visible end, but just as affecting was Gérard’s distress, the fact that the charming, if a little litigious, agent was suddenly up to his neck in paralyzing fear and helplessness when he wasn’t the one in danger. Genji studied Gérard for a few seconds.  

“Without.... who?” said Genji. He knew it was Gérard’s wife but wasn’t about to let Gérard know he had heard the whole exchange between him, Reyes, and Morrison.

“Amélie,” Gérard seemed to be looking through Genji then, his brow crinkled, “Talon they--I mean we’re not positive yet but--well you aren’t cleared for this yet. I shouldn’t...”

“Suspended,” Genji shrugged, “And... looking like this, I can’t exactly get off-site to talk about it.”

Gérard huffed “And... I’ve heard you’re not exactly the talkative type,” Gérard smiled a little.

“Ninja,” Genji shrugged.

“I-I think she’d like you...” His shoulders sagged, “Practical... steady... if she were here she’d probably tell me I’m making a fool of myself.”

You are and I have no idea how to help you so please let me go, thought Genji, but the smile on Gérard’s face eased him a bit. Genji wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling--helping and yet not helping. He remembered certain looks in Mercy’s face when he would talk about the Shimada clan, those hints of wanting to do something but feeling the ability to do so just beyond his reach. How often did she feel that with all of his fury? With all his grief?

“I wish I understood what was going through Reyes’s mind in Rialto...” Gérard spoke and startled Genji from his own thoughts. 

“...Antonio told him his associates would get him out within the week, Reyes... responded... practically,” said Genji.

“Practically,” a huff fell out of Gérard, “Just like in the debriefs.”

Genji’s brow crinkled. “The point of Blackwatch is to operate from the shadows. It was never about how it would be seen because it... wasn’t meant to be seen.”

“But it still has effects,” Gérard murmured, “And you still have to live with yourself afterwards.”

You still have to live with yourself.

The image of Zhihong Peh gurgling on his own blood on the end of Genji’s sword flashed to his mind. The thwack of his father hitting a fish on a rock in Shirakami-sanchi.

Make it clean. Make it quick.

“Would Amélie still have been taken if...?” Gérard’s voice pulled Genji from his memories again, but Gérard just lowered his head and furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now.  have to find a new angle. I have to... she...” he lifted his chin slightly, “Monsieur Shimada. I appreciate you putting up with the ravings of a madman. I must go. Thank you.”

“....you’re welcome?”  said Genji, but Gérard was already walking past him.

Genji stood there in the hallway a few minutes longer. Amélie LaCroix had been taken. Whether or not that had happened in response to killing Antonio remained to be seen... but it was clear that the fallout from Rialto had not helped. He looked at his hands. For so long ‘practical’ had been a straight line, but now it seemed that the path he had been carving out was caving in on him. What was practical now?

Whatever you can do to help.

And where do you start?

With the people who you know always help.

----

It was late at night in the lab and Mercy was nodding off slightly, her chin in her hand at her monitor when a coffee mug gently clacked down on the desk beside her. She flinched awake and her head swung around to see Genji slowly withdrawing one hand, holding his own coffee cup in the other.

“Peace offering,” said Genji, “...if you don’t want to deal with me right now, you don’t have to. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Mercy tentatively picked up the mug and sipped at it, glaring at Genji slightly through her eyebrows before lowering the cup into her lap.

“What do you want?” she said, her voice clipped. 

“I wanted to say... I’m sorry for storming off like that and...You were right,” Genji said quietly, “Killing Antonio creates far more problems than it solves.”

There was some hope in Mercy’s eyes, but she also gave him a sort of uneasy, puzzled look.

“And...” Genji’s voice was a bit more tight, “On a... lawful and ethical level, it... was wrong.” He dropped his voice to a low mutter, “Even if he would have wormed his way out of the law.”

Mercy huffed and smiled a little. “I... I know the law also needs reforms so that doesn’t happen, so that justice can be done... but in the meantime...”

“In the meantime we shouldn’t shoot people in the face,” Genji conceded with a shrug.

“Right,” said Mercy. Her smile was a little crooked. There was a long silence then, tentative, and a little anxious. Genji leaned against the desk, wrapping his organic hand around the mug, taking some comfort in its warmth.

“Angela—I need you to understand something about me,” Genji said, not looking at her.

“Please don’t—“ Mercy started.

“Just listen. The first time the clan made me kill someone, I was 14 years old,” Mercy’s eyes widened and Genji’s knuckles rolled tight on the coffee mug, “And that wasn’t the only person I killed for them.

Mercy’s shoulders shrank inward, her eyes not meeting his.

“The clan,” Genji paused and took a steadying breath before continuing, “Worked to make me into something… no one should be. It…cultivated a way for me to see the world that very much affected my concepts of what is acceptable. What is good.” He gave a short huff. “But I don’t… I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to cause the same hurts they have caused.”

She looked at him then. That same searching look. That same ‘I want to help but I don’t know how’ look, and Genji’s stomach stung with the strange helplessness he felt when Gérard was gripping his shoulders earlier that day.

“But Blackwatch never asked me to question what the clan taught me. It just… saw I was angry, saw I was hurt, and pointed me in a certain direction,”  he huffed, “And now I’m stuck here. And I can’t do anything. And... ” he took a steadying breath, “I care about you. I care about our friendship. And I care about what you think of me. I don’t know... if I will ever be fully rid of what the Shimada clan cultivated in me... it... it feels like it only got sharper after what Hanzo did to me. It feels rooted in my very survival instincts. But I know I don’t want to be Reyes, and I don’t want to lose you, and... if what Blackwatch did caused all this hurt to all these people who had nothing to do with what happened in Rialto.. it’s true that it should be suspended.”

Mercy blinked a few times. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well... to an extent...” said Genji, “If Blackwatch still had its intel networks up...”

“Maybe we could help Gérard find Amélie,” Mercy said quietly.

“You know about Gérard?” Genji looked over at her.

“I only got the briefing a few hours ago,” said Mercy. She was quiet for a few seconds. “Genji... I... I don’t think you’re a bad person for what the Shimada clan conditioned you to do. You do scare me sometimes, but I genuinely believe, deep down, you want to do good.” 

“I scare you?” Genji lifted his prosthetic hand and looked down at it.

“Not because of that...” Mercy touched the metal of his knuckles and he let his hand drop as his eyes raised to hers, “I--I’m scared for you. I don’t want you to think you’re alone. And--and I want you to be able to have a life outside of Overwatch.” She huffed. “That’s what it does. It takes in people who have nowhere else to go and who just want to help and it takes everything they can give and you never know if it’s being used to help or to...” her voice trailed off and she was staring forward. Genji touched her shoulder gently.

“For what it’s worth... without Overwatch I would have never met you,” said Genji.

“I’m glad I’ve met you too,” said Mercy, smiling a little, “Silver linings right?” 

“Right...” said Genji.

A long pause passed between them. 

“...so where do we go from here?” said Genji, quietly.

“Well... I still have my work... I suppose this means we can spend more time together?” Mercy shrugged, “And... with Blackwatch suspended... maybe you can take some time to figure out what you want. Outside of Overwatch. Outside of taking down the Shimada clan.”

I don’t know how ready I am to deal with that, thought Genji, but he just nodded.

“So...” Genji swirled his coffee in its mug, “What are you working on tonight?”

“Well... apparently there’s been this incident at Watchpoint Pembrey,” said Mercy, glancing back to her monitor, “But it’s very confusing on, well... a physics level?”

“Something is confusing the genius Angela Ziegler?” Genji pulled up a chair, “Tell me more.”

Mercy snickered a little. Then started telling him.

[lavenderboneswrites]

it’s me, kitty 🥺

👉🏻👈🏻 Shizuo and Izaya having a self care day?

they try face masks, watch movies, do their nails, eat junk food, anything that comes to your mind 🥰

Maybe they even have a bubble bath together 👀👀

I LOVE YOU BB YOURE THE BEST 💖💖💖💖💘💘💘🥰🥰🥰

Of course my beloved got her request in first <3 <3 I hope you enjoy it bb, I tried to fit as much as your fav tropes in as I possibly could. Thank you for always supporting me and letting me share my ideas with you <3 <3

I Feel it Coming

Words: 5352

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut and fluff, shizaya, established relationship, self-care day, possessive Shizuo, light dom/sub (please check AO3 for a comprehensive list of tags)

AO3

When Shizuo gets home Izaya is nowhere to be seen.

It’s been a long day of chasing down debts and deadbeats. Shizuo sighs as he toes off his shoes at the entrance and loosens the clip on bowtie. Making a trail up the stairs and to his bedroom, Shizuo pulls off his vest off along the way. He takes care to hang it gingerly on the hanger behind the door, certain he can get a few more wears out of this one before it needed washing.

He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, loosened buttons showing off a white undershirt and the hint of defined pectorals. Most of the lights in the apartment were on, the bedroom lit by low lamplight. Izaya is obviously around, and yet he normally greets Shizuo boisterously; often from his desk because he’s forgotten to stop working.

Shizuo untucks his shirt, slipping out of his pants and letting white fabric slip below his thighs. He’s thinking he needs a shower, or maybe he’ll just fall straight into bed, but he follows the sound of running water to the en suite.

Izaya really has a ridiculous apartment. His bathroom is off his bedroom, and if you pass through it you’ll find yourself in a large walk-in wardrobe. For someone who only wears the same ugly coat everyday Izaya sure has a lot of clothes. Shizuo’s not complaining, when Izaya wears that cream oversized turtleneck it does things to him.

Shizuo follows the rush of water to the bathroom. Steam clouds the air, mixed with a pleasant floral smell. It’s dark in here, the only light an illumination of candles on the basin and other various other spots. Water is filling the bath, a mix of bubbles and rose petals on the surface. Heated tiles warm Shizuo’s feet and he can’t help but feel the tension of the day lifting slightly at the relaxing atmosphere.

Until he almost has a heart attack.

Standing in the entrance to the wardrobe is a man with a white mask over his face.

Shizuo stumbles back, heart racing a million miles an hour as the figure emerges from the dark.

“What the fuck!?”

Shizuo clutches his hand in his shirt as he tries to force his rabbiting heart to calm down.

“You look like a fucking serial killer!”

He’s still trying to calm down from the shock as the masked man attempts a grin.

“Welcome home to you too, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya’s dressed in a maroon bathrobe and on his face is one of those stupid beauty masks he loves so much. Though, the serial killer look is slightly dampened by the fluffy white headband with cat ears Izaya wears to keep his hair back.

Izaya slinks up to him, arms going to wrap around his neck and Shizuo’s hands automatically go to his waist. It’s almost like a pavlovian response at this point.

“I’m not kissing you when you look like this,” Shizuo grumbles out to which Izaya replies with only a chuckle.

It’s disconcerting. The mask has holes for his mouth and eyes, and a slit for his nostrils, but other than that he looks completely macabre.

Shizuo ignores his own words when he allows Izaya to place a small peck on his lips.

“What’s all this?” Shizuo asks, rubbing circles into Izaya’s hips absentmindedly.

“Mm?” Izaya makes his usual noncommittal noise. “I thought Shizu-chan would like some pampering after a long day at work.”

Honestly, that sounds absolutely wonderful to Shizuo right about now. He eyes the bath off, noticing two glasses of lemon and mint infused water on the hob next to it. No doubt one of Izaya’s own ‘self-care’ creations.

Izaya doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive and a sprinkling of manipulation, Shizuo thinks with his eyes narrowing back to his currently psychotic looking boyfriend.

“What’s the catch?”

“My, my … can’t I just be doing something nice for my boyfriend?”

“No,” Shizuo deadpans back to Izaya’s fake as shit voice.

He attempts to pout, but he can’t move his face muscles well without messing up the mask.

“Boo Shizu-chan, you’re no fun.”

“And you’re a pest,” Shizuo says as Izaya hangs off him like some sort of dramatic leach.

Izaya leans his head back, giving an over top groan as if Shizuo’s inability to react in the way he wants is his greatest annoyance.

“Come on,” Shizuo leans closer, mouth almost touching skin as he whispers low into his ear. “The sooner you tell me what you want the sooner you’ll get it, flea.”

Shizuo can feel the way the body in his arms tenses up momentarily, almost like a shiver going through him from the low tenor of Shizuo’s voice. Really, Izaya was pretty easy to handle once he learnt a few tricks.

One being that he was an incredibly horny fleabag.

Izaya is sliding his hands down Shizuo’s back, sweeping over the curve of his ass as he finds the hem of Shizuo’s shirt. He runs his fingers along the seam before sneaking under white fabric to press at his upper thigh.

“Hmm,” Shizuo pulls back to find copper eyes among a sea of white. Izaya’s hands on his skin are slightly distracting and just a little bit ticklish. “I want Shizuo to do a face-mask with me.”

“And?” Shizuo presses, digging the points of his thumbs into Izaya’s hips lightly.

“And have a bubble bath.”

Shizuo just pulls Izaya closer, pressing a swift kiss the crown of his head. “Alright louse, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Shizuo has a quick rinse off in the shower, afterwards changing into the navy bathrobe Izaya had brought to match his. It feels good to wash away the remnants of a long day, water beating down on his shoulders almost like a massage. Izaya’s shower had out of this world water pressure, honestly Shizuo was in love.

One face-mask later and the bath has finished filling. Steam is coming off the water, and Shizuo knows it’s still way too hot for either of them to get in. Though Izaya will probably try to early like always. He really was like some cold-blooded reptile, always trying to soak up as much heat as possible … usually from Shizuo himself.

Shizuo lets Izaya put his mask on. It was the best choice, considering the wet paper like cloth needed delicate handling and Shizuo would no doubt rip it immediately with his ‘monster’s paws’, as Izaya had said. He made sure to smack at Izaya with his monster paws for that comment.

The mask isn’t horrible. It’s wet and his vision is kind of obscured, and he doesn’t think it fits properly cause one side keeps curling down at his temple. Izaya had given him his own kitty ear headband to hold his fringe back, and the louse pesters him to take a few selfies together. Shizuo can’t help but snort at how ridiculous they look, kind of like a mannequin had a baby with a hockey mask.

They sit on the edge of the bathtub next to each other, sipping their drinks the best they can with the masks in the way. Shizuo eventually gets fed up and rips the sliver of paper between his nostrils and upper lip and Izaya almost chokes on his stupid lemon water laughing.

It’s cute.

It’s nice to just sit and talk, to take stock of each other’s day and catch up. Izaya plays footsies with him the entire time, and at one point Shizuo almost falls backwards into the bath trying to capture the louse’s calf between his feet.

Izaya’s hand is also rubbing once again against his thigh, sliding up under the material of his bathrobe. He massages his fingers into the muscles, pressing with precision into the knots hard enough to make Shizuo groan.

Izaya has a thing for his thighs. Shizuo doesn’t know why, but something about them makes the little pest go feral. They are thick and muscular, almost double the width of Izaya’s own legs and even if Shizuo didn’t see the appeal himself he’s happy to let Izaya have his fun.

Watching Izaya fuck himself against only his bare thigh really was a sight to behold.

After about ten minutes the face masks come off. Shizuo never could keep them on as long as Izaya; after a while it started to get too annoying and almost itchy. Still, Shizuo would be lying if he said it didn’t feel completely satisfying pealing the paper away from his skin.

He scrunches the mask into a ball, using it to rub the excess moisture of his face. Izaya folds his own mask much more neatly, leaning towards the mirror to inspect his skin as he wipes away any remaining excess.

Like every inch of that skin wasn’t flawless to begin with.

Shizuo rubs at his cheek, taking in how soft the mask has left his skin. He wasn’t that into self-care like Izaya was, but even he couldn’t deny these masks were magical.

Better was Izaya skin, which normally soft to the touch, became like silk under Shizuo’s fingertips. He can’t stop himself from reaching out, from cupping the flea’s cheek and rubbing his thumb against ivory skin.

It’s nice to finally see his unobscured face.

“Hey,” Shizuo’s turning that his to meet lips like satin in a soft kiss.

Izaya lets Shizuo set the pace to something slow and unhurried. He parts his mouth, tongue licking at the seam of Izaya’s lips before the other is turning to let him deepen the kiss further.

Shizuo licks into that wicked mouth with a careful consideration, letting Izaya’s taste flood over his tongue. There’s a hand twisting into the back of his hair and another once more kneading the flesh of his thigh.

Shizuo breaks the kiss slowly, dazzlingly eyes of whiskey alight with muted heat blinking softly back up at him.

“I’m home, Izaya.”

Izaya grins at the domestic phrase, rubs his nose against Shizuo’s and the little kiss is so cute that Shizuo can feel the tips of his ears go red.

“Welcome home, Shizu-chan.”

Izaya breath is like a whisper over his lips and Shizuo can’t help but mirror his smirk with a grin of his own.

Shizuo slips into the bath by himself, letting out a groan as the heat immediately relaxes the muscles in his back. It’s still way too hot. So hot that he can’t help but shiver, heat skittering almost painfully over sensitive nerve endings. And yet it feels like heaven, all of the tension flooding out of his body after a long day. He closes his eyes, letting his head lie back on the hob as he just soaks in the moment.

The patter of feet signal Izaya’s return. Shizuo opens one eye to see him standing before him with those same kitty ears and nothing else.

Izaya’s body is stunning. He’s lean and long limbed, but there’s a subtle grace to the way he holds himself. Shizuo always thinks of him as some kind of jungle panther. Light-footed. Slinking around like a predator. His waist is slim, and yet there is slight definition around his muscles, and his ass-, shit, his ass is a gift from God. Chasing the flea all those years had definitely paid off for him; and Shizuo was happy to enjoy the spoils too.

Izaya places a hand to Shizuo’s bicep as he steadies himself and steps into the water. Shizuo’s arm comes up to the small of his back automatically, ready to catch him at the first sign of a slip, but knowing Izaya it wasn’t necessary.

The flea slips into the space between Shizuo’s parted legs and leans back against his muscled chest. He lets out a little sigh as he submerges himself into the water up to his shoulders, obviously enjoying the heat sinking deep into his body just as Shizuo had. The noise is nice, something breathless and almost non-existent, something Shizuo is so attuned to he thinks he can almost hear it in his head rather than any physical sound.

Izaya’s leans his head back against his shoulder and Shizuo can’t help but wrap his arms around his waist, pulling him tighter against his front.

Izaya body fits perfectly against his, and not for the first time Shizuo is certain that flea was made for him.

The candles flicker with steam, and Shizuo thinks he could fall asleep right here and now.

Fwua!

A loud slapping sound breaks through his peace and Shizuo can feel giggles vibrating through Izaya’s back.

Opening his eyes again, Shizuo is met with the sight of Izaya scooping bubbles into his hands. He smacks them together quickly, the bubbles exploding into the air with his delighted giggles.

It’s too fucking cute.

“What are you, four?”

Izaya answers by twisting his neck to look over at Shizuo, a hand of foam raised and Shizuo’s barely has time to raise an eyebrow before bubbles are being blown into his face.

“Oi,” Shizuo hacks a cough, swallowing a great deal more soap than he ever wanted to. His eye twitches at the cheeky look in Izaya’s eyes and his grouchy tone really doesn’t match his own fond smile.

“Do you want me to drown you in this tub?”

Izaya pouts, “Shizu-chan don’t be mean.”

The pout cracks as his lips twitch up at the corners. Water splashes, the flea suddenly turning around fully and scooping up more bubbles.

“Shizu-chan let’s make you a bubble beard.”

“Haaah?”

“Haaah?” Izaya mocks, “come on old man.”

“I’m younger than you,” Shizuo quips back, trying to grab skinny wrists that keep trying to slap foam to his chin.

Wasn’t this supposed to be relaxing!?

Izaya’s attempts don’t ease up and he giggles as a ball of bubbles land delicately on Shizuo’s nose.

He narrows his eyes at his nose, as if the bubbles have personally offended him, and before Izaya can even get a yelp out Shizuo is shoving his head underwater.

Water goes over the sides of the tub and Izaya’s arms splash comically as Shizuo’s entire palm covers the crown of his head. He only gives it a few seconds before he lets up.

Izaya pops back up, hair sopping and stuck to his forehead as his kitty headband hangs pathetically around his neck. He splutters and coughs, attempting to glare at Shizuo as he rubs at his eyes.

Shizuo only gives a cocky raise of one eyebrow, as if to say ‘you started it’.

“Did you just try to drown me?” Izaya asks, his outrage fake as shit.

“You wanna go back under?” Shizuo threatens, but the tone is ruined by his wide smile.

Izaya grins, one shoulder coming up in a half-hearted shrug. He pulls off the headband around his neck, pouting at the state it’s in before flinging it over the side of the tub to the floor.

A glint flashes in Izaya’s eyes. It’s the only warning Shizuo gets before two hands are pressing down onto his head.

Shizuo plants his feet firmly on the bottom of the tub to stop from sliding, and Izaya’s wicked looked turns disappointed as Shizuo doesn’t budge an inch.

“Oi.”

Izaya’s eyes narrow into a look of determination, and he even gets to his knees as he tries to add even more force to Shizuo’s head.

“Why, won’t, you, die?”

Shizuo answers by letting himself suddenly slip under the water. The sudden loss of purchase has Izaya floundering and Shizuo swears he can hear him yelp through water.

Shizuo almost swallows an obscene amount of bath water from laughing before he pops back up. Izaya has slumped atop of him, arms around his neck as he holds his own head above water as if to keep himself from completely submerging.

Shizuo likes that. The way Izaya will always grab onto him, cling to him, whenever he loses his footing.

“Shizu-chan is so mean. Jail for a thousand years!”

Shizuo just chuckles, pushing Izaya’s fringe away from his forehead as he looks at him. He’s doing the face Shizuo loves, the one where his nose scrunches up oh so cutely. Shizuo loves that face, he wants to hoard it all to himself and never let anyone else see it.

If it got out Izaya was this cute Shizuo’s sure he’d have to beat off interested parties with a sick.

Mine.

Shizuo sits himself up, shaking his head like a dog to get the water out of his hair. Izaya squirms in his arms, but he doesn’t let go. Instead he manhandles the flea back into the same position they started in, with his back pressed to Shizuo’s chest, sitting between his legs.

There, Shizuo thinks triumphantly, Izaya’s wriggling getting less and less by the minute. He squeezes his thighs around the flea’s hips, wrapping his legs over the top of Izaya’s until he’s practically in a joint lock.

He’s really no match for Shizuo’s superior strength when it comes down to it. Still, it didn’t stop Izaya from trying to wrestle him daily.

“Have you calmed down you damn water rat?”

“Hmm,” Izaya hums as if he has no idea what Shizuo’s talking about. “Shouldn’t I be a water flea? Shizu-chan don’t you know it’s bad to mix metaphors?”

Shizuo just snorts at such a bratty response.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Izaya relents and relaxes back into his body and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against the back of his neck.

“You’re ridiculous,” Shizuo snorts into his skin, and he doesn’t need to see to know that Izaya is smirking.

He lets his lips and hands do the rest of the talking. Soft kisses trailing from Izaya’s neck to his shoulder and back again. He rubs his hands at the flea’s sides, making a path up and down slowly as he maps out every inch of creamy skin.

Izaya makes that soundless noise again, lips parted slightly as closes his eyes, focusing on sensation of Shizuo’s hands and lips on him. Shizuo’s touch is light, almost ticklish as he brushes fingertips across Izaya’s ribs, the water turning his path slick and easy.

Shizuo kisses are barely a press of lips to skin, so soft that it’s only the feel of his breath blowing out that makes Izaya’s skin erupt into goosebumps. Shizuo watches fascinated as that alabaster skin reacts before his very eyes.

Izaya’s got the faintest of freckles splayed across his shoulders, almost impossible to see unless this close. Shizuo loves to pick out each individual mark, a constellation of stars for his mouth to trace and follow. To worship and pay tribute to.

Shizuo rubs his hands from Izaya’s sides down to his hips, thighs, and back up again to his waist. Every time he trails down he moves a little bit further. Inch by torturous inch he teases skin until Izaya starts to squirm a little.

Heh.

Shizuo’s grin is wicked as he presses it under Izaya’s ear. His lips move up to brush against his pulse point and Izaya lifts his chin to allow Shizuo greater access.

Shizuo’s chuckle spills over skin for real and shivers are erupting once more over Izaya’s skin.

“Mmm?” Shizuo whispers a questioning noise, hands dipping past the heated flesh at Izaya’s inner thigh. “You like that flea?”

Izaya does a little jerk of his head, eyes closed and it really is too cute.

“Does it feel good?”

Shizuo breath is hot at his ear before he gives a playful nip to the flesh. He can feel the way Izaya’s breath hitches, the motion going through his back and making Shizuo’s own chest thrum with something primal and satisfied.

Shizuo’s rubbing his foot against Izaya’s calf muscle, feeling the way he squirms at the touch.

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo cheeks actually hurt from how wide he’s smiling. “Do you not like it?”

Izaya’s head shakes, the action almost frantic, and Shizuo rewards him by sliding the flat of his tongue over the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet.

His skin tastes clean and fresh, and Shizuo feels his mouth salivating with the desire to bite into that milky flesh. To see it bruised dark with his claim. He holds off though, content with just feeling Izaya beneath his hands, feeling the way his breathing goes a little faster at every dip closer to that heat between his legs.

“Does it feel good when I touch here?” Shizuo brushes his fingertips over Izaya’s ribs, taking in every little shudder as he whispers into his lover’s ear. “What about when I touch here?”

Shizuo’s hands trail inwards, and Izaya’s lips are parting in a gasp as his knuckles brush against the side of his cock.

“Ah, is there someone you want me to touch you flea?”

Shizuo rubs his fingers between Izaya’s thighs just above his knees, so close and yet so far, if the little whimper that escapes his lips is any indication.

Shizuo feels like an addict. There is just something about having Izaya in his arms, squirming and desperate for his touch and just … taking his time with him.

Dragging it out nice and slow.

Shizuo continues licking and sucking at the flea’s neck. Izaya has his hand trapped between his legs in a vice grip, and yet Shizuo still continues his slow, sweet touches.

He lets his touches turn rougher, digs bruises into pale skin as he sucks harshly on that spot beneath Izaya’s ear; the spot that makes him moan open-mouthed.

“Shizuo.”

His name is like a prayer on Izaya’s lips. Breathless and needy. Shizuo doesn’t know whether he’s begging for him to stop or begging for him to keep going, either way the sound sinks deep into his gut.

“Shizuo please.”

Shizuo’s grin goes impossibly wide, mouth gaping like a predator’s with its prey in its grasp. His lips find Izaya’s earlobe. He pulls the flesh into his mouth and sucks harshly.

It’s a dizzying juxtaposition. Wrenching his hand from Izaya’s thigh-crush, Shizuo grazes the tips of fingers over the head of his cock, the softest, slowest touch all night and it makes Izaya jolt.

“Fuck.”

Shizuo sucks hard at the flea’s neck, finger tips trailing down his shaft and to his navel. He rubs at the soft flesh there, relishing in the annoyed whine that Izaya makes as he moves away from his reddened cock.

“Shizuo,” he can hear the pout in Izaya’s voice.

“Look at you,” Shizuo releases Izaya’s ear with a wet sound, “I haven’t even played with your tits yet and this worked up.”

That whine becomes louder, more painful if possible, as if Izaya’s gritting his teeth together.

“Shizuo you better fucking touch me or I’m going to destroy all your stupid bartender outfits.”

It’s astounding. Izaya’s gripping his wrist so tightly Shizuo’s sure there will be indents of his nails left behind. How is it possible for him to still sound like such a vicious little thing when he’s desperately trying to put Shizuo’s unbudging hand to his leaking cock?

“Oi,” Shizuo growls low and Izaya’s body shivers fully at the sound. “Do you want me to drown you again?”

“Heh,” Izaya lips are quirking up, eyes hooded as he speaks out like silk and satin, “if you drown me there won’t be anyone around to suck your cock.”

Shizuo should’ve expected this. Expected Izaya would try to play dirty.

He was the definition of little brat that needed to be put in their place. Still, the words make his own dick jump, and he can’t help but press his erection harder into the swell of Izaya’s ass in warning.

“Oh?” Shizuo lets his tenor lilt upwards, “you wanna suck my cock that bad flea?”

Izaya snorts, and Shizuo can’t help but rub his nose against his neck in an overly affectionate gesture.

“Hey Shizu-chan,” Izaya’s turning his face, lips meeting lips in a sweet brush as he releases his death grip on Shizuo’s wrist.

Shizuo stares into dark, deep eyes; lets himself drown as Izaya presses his forehead to his.

“Yeah flea?”

Izaya eyes close, his mouth turning soft as he gives one of those rare smiles reserved just for Shizuo.

Shizuo’s eyes slip close, Izaya in his arms and his breath spilling across his face in a steady rhythm. It’s like an abstract concept become physical, a peace that Shizuo can literally hold within his hands.

Izaya dips his head to Shizuo’s neck, lips against skin as he whispers.

“I want you to tell me how badly I want to suck your cock … while you touch me.”

Shizuo’s eyes blow wide. His smile is going predator-like before he can even realise it.

Izaya was absolutely perfect.

Shizuo pulls Izaya’s body back with his, getting comfortable as Izaya settles himself in against his hold, nuzzling into his neck. Shizuo can’t help but shower his back in soft kisses.

“You want me to talk you through it baby?” Shizuo asks, letting his voice go softer. He’s cock is aching as Izaya shivers at the pet name. He forces it to the back of his mind, focus zeroing in on the body in his arms. “You look so good right now.”

Izaya just sighs and Shizuo rewards him with a kiss to his lips. It’s chaste and sweet, with the promise of something hotter simmering just beneath the surface.

He lets his hands slide through the water and up that irresistible body once more. This time when snakes his hand downwards he palms at Izaya’s cock lightly.

“Aah,” Izaya’s lets out this little moan, relief and pleasure all in one. As if not being touched had been painful, had been torture.

“That feel good? Being touched here?” Shizuo whispers a sonnet against Izaya’s neck. His eyes are wide open, mesmerized as he palms his hand with more force against the flea’s cock.

His hot in his palm, positively boiling compared to the cooling temperate of the water surrounding them. Shizuo enjoys the feel of him in his hands. Hot and heavy. Izaya has a nice cock, it’s long, not as thick as Shizuo’s but it curves nicely and his mouth waters at the sight of it.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock … for such an ugly flea.”

Izaya actually chuckles at the underhanded compliment and Shizuo feels himself flush at the sound.

Izaya was anything but ugly.

Shizuo’s certain even the most wicked of devils would repent at the beauty of his flea.

Mine, mine, mine.

Shizuo lets his touch stay slow and steady, matching his earlier exploration of Izaya’s body. He closes his fist around the shaft experimentally, the water making his slow pull even rougher.

Izaya’s head is thrown fully back onto his shoulder now. Eyes closed as he pants open-mouthed. His hips are doing these cute little jerk, moving in time with Shizuo’s hand, and every brush of his ass against Shizuo’s cock makes him want to groan out loud.

“Look at you, I bet you’re imagining it aren’t you?” Shizuo fists the head of Izaya’s cock with the barest of pressure and the other is whimpering. “My cock in your mouth … the taste of me on your tongue.”

“Ah-ah.”

Shizuo’s pace is increasing, fist going tighter as his words climb higher.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed with my cock, baby,” Shizuo’s whispers are turning harsh in his ears. “God you feel so good around me. So wet.”

Shizuo’s eyes are closing and he can feel it. That warm wet heat enveloping him, almost overwhelming in its sensation.

“You want it so badly don’t you? Tell me how badly you want my cock.”

“Y-yes!” Izaya’s voice comes out high pitched and desperate. “I-, I want your cock … I-I need it.”

Shizuo rubs his hard dick against the crack of Izaya’s ass, in time with the flea’s desperate thrust. His lips are wet and wide against Izaya’s neck, kisses turning careless as he sucks and bites with abandon. Izaya’s body is going taunt in his arms, toes curling against the tub, abdominals clenching so tight it almost looks painful. His body is on the edge of trembling, pulled so tight Shizuo can feel that tension almost about to snap.

“Fuck baby,” Shizuo lets his voice go rough, lets it go needy.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shizuo gives a feral growl, Izaya’s squirming and splashing in his arms as he sets a relentless pace against his cock. Shizuo twists his fist as he pulls up, water sloshing over the sides at his frantic pace. He fists the head tightly, twisting in a way that makes Izaya keen out like he’s been kicked in the gut.

“N-need you, fuck I need you baby.”

“Ah-, ah-, Shizuo!”

Shizuo’s desperation sends Izaya over the edge. The body in his arms tenses, like an electric current is running through it and then he’s shaking apart, moaning long and loud as Shizuo strokes him through his orgasm, never letting up as his cock spurts white into water.

He keeps stroking him. Izaya’s breathing is ragged as he collapses boneless atop Shizuo.

Eventually he slows his motions, letting his hand come to a steady stop as he feels all the little aftershocks shivering through the body in his arms. Izaya’s eyes are closed and Shizuo thinks he might have fucked him stupid.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Oi,” Shizuo presses a kiss to Izaya’s temple. “Don’t fall asleep flea.”

Shizuo can’t keep the smile out his voice. He has literal perfection in his arms, had that same perfection coming and calling out his name. His heart feels fit to burst…

His cock definitely is.

“Mm, Shizu-chan is such a sadist,” Izaya finally mumbles a response. He sounds dazed, like he’s intoxicated and on the verge of blacking out.

“Guess it’s a good thing you’re such a masochist then, huh?” Shizuo says between kisses to the smattering of stars over Izaya’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Izaya’s eyes are cracking open, staring unseeing at the ceiling as he brushes a hand through the water absentmindedly. “The bath is dirty now.”

Shizuo snorts, “and who made it dirty, louse?”

“Shizu-chan should take responsibility, after all, it’s all his fault,” Izaya quips back, turning to press a smirk into Shizuo’s neck.

“Youbetter take responsibility,” Shizuo grumbles, pressing his still raging erection against Izaya’s backside in case he’d somehow forgotten about it.

Unlikely.

“But I’m tired,” Izaya whines pathetically, and Shizuo half kind of wants to drown him again. “Shizu-chan’s torture was relentless!”

Shizuo chuckles at that, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and into Izaya’s back.

“Surprised you just didn’t slip it in mid torture,” Izaya lilts with his usually vulgarity and yeah Shizuo should definitely drown him.

“Too tired,” Shizuo deadpans, “you do some work flea.”

“Heh, be careful what you wish for Shizu-chan.”

They end up in bed, barely dry as Izaya’s swallows down Shizuo’s cock like a man starving. Shizuo’s exhausted, splayed out on the bed as he hovers blissfully between the edge of sleep and the pleasure of Izaya’s hot mouth wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for him to come. Not long until he’s body is shaking apart and he’s calling Izaya’s name. He trembles as Izaya sucks him dry of every, last, drop.

Shizuo feels hazy, his skin hypersensitive from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He’s drifting off to sleep, Izaya snuggling in beside him and pulling the blanket up.

“Shizu-chan has tomorrow off, right?” Izaya asks innocently, and Shizuo thinks he brushes his hand through the flea’s hair but he’s not quite sure in his half-awake daze.

“Yeah.”

“Will Shizu-chan make me breakfast?”

Shizuo’s eyes are slipping closed again, the sight of Izaya tucked under his arm and snuggling into his neck the last thing he sees.

“Yeah flea,” he’s mumbling in his sleep, “do … anything…”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 14

FIRST TIME READER, click here

TWs / Summary: Petrolhead dorks! Just Rich People Things. Car sex with daddy Tony! Poor cop LMAO. Snark snark snark. Unsafe driving - don't drive like that unless you know what you're doing! As for the inspiration for this chapter, thanks to @persephonehemingway and her deliciously filthy fic on AO3. Y'know, the one with Beck and Tony and stuff... 😏

@miscmarvelwritings is a lovely beta. Baby gay 🥺✨

Soft, steady rumbling of the engine; it reminded me of a lion's purr. I could feel it under me, reverberating through the driver's seat, whirring beneath my hand as I put the car in drive. It was such a shame Royce had an automatic transmission. Unlike most people, I actually enjoyed driving stick, the option of controlling the speed one gear by one gear was exhilarating.

My face felt hot. I pulled out of the parking lot evenly, driving through the city streets at a moderate pace, not the speed limit-because in a car like this it would be a crime-but not dashing around madly either. The beast under me was to be savoured and savour I did.

"You're enjoying this," Tony quipped cheekily, having made himself comfortable with his feet on the dash. His sneakers laid in a haphazard heap halfway under his seat. A picture of lavish comfort. "Take a left, go on the highway. We can afford to go a little crazy."

Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I followed his instructions, accelerating in excitement. A little past ten o'clock, the cars on that particular stretch of road were few and in-between. The streetlights blinked their greetings, the speedometer surely and steadily climbing over the 80MPH mark.

I laughed. I couldn't keep it in even if I tried; with a car of this size, this weight, such a relatively low speed felt twice as exciting.

"Go faster," Tony ordered, sitting up straighter. "Faster."

"Yes, daddy," I snarked, flooring it. The g-force took hold of us briefly, flattening our backs with the seat. I laughed again, adrenaline pumping throughout my body, giving me that extra attention boost. I easily maneuvered around a couple of minivans around the 110 MPH mark. The engine sang and roared. "Wanna see something cool?"

Tony's pupils were blown wide, the amber irises nearly invisible in the sea of black. He was turned on, incredibly so. "Yes, baby girl," He groaned.

I was familiar with the road just enough to pull off a stunt with the barest bit of luck. Karma was on my side that evening, I wasn't going to waste any more time. My blood sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension. Another two miles and I spied the dimly lit exit on my right side; not a soul in sight but Tony's wide-eyed wonder, I went in for the kill.

Tires squealed, obscuring my happy little noise and Tony's shocked exhale as I steered into the narrow opening, missing the railings by a mere few inches. The Royce went into full drift, it's wheels automatically locking, and I had no doubt the tires would need a change after this - but we pulled through, the car evening out just as a straight stretch of road appeared again.

The multiple lights flashing were disregarded by me along with quiet angry beeping, I was overtaken by my own bravado. Not once I hesitated but my hands still shook, tiny little tremors. Tony saw it, too, I noticed - gaze hungry, he eyed my left wrist nonchalantly hanging over the steering wheel. We were still going steadily at 100 MPH.

"Tony?" I asked, proud and happy.

"Princess," He answered, breathless. "Pull over, over there," pointing somewhere to my right.

Confused by his sudden change of attitude, I nonetheless, complied, parking on a small patch of concrete. It looked like an abandoned gas station or some creepy shit.

"Come here," As soon as I shut down the car, I felt myself roughly pulled into his lap.

Tony's hands were everywhere, on my hips, on my tits, under my dress. His own arousal in constraints, he positioned me right on top of it, grinding slowly and desperately into my center. I was right there with him, hungry for the way his mouth immediately attached itself to mine, tongue plunging straight into my throat without finesse.

Agile fingers toyed with my breasts and I raked my nails down his throat in retaliation; neither of us knew who moaned first into the kiss. We swallowed the breathy sound, shared it between us. The smell of adrenaline and arousal seeped into the space between us, thick, foggy.

Fumbling around his pants was, probably, not very sexy, but neither of us cared about the article of clothing after pushing it down his hips. There wasn't much space to work with. We managed just fine, the brief moment of discomfort paying off with the delicious stretch of his cock inside me.

"Oh, fu-u-uck, so-o go-o-od," I was ready to pray to any God, as long as I could keep riding the tidal waves of pleasure.

"Yes, fuck me, Princess," Tony parroted the sentiment. His narrow hips stuttered, blunt rip of his cock brushing inside of me, hitting a sensitive spot. Sparks burst from within, urging me to move.

Bracing my knees on the outside of his thighs, I gripped Tony - his shoulders, his hair - for leverage. He loved the tug of war I played with his locks as evidenced by the immediate groan and the tightening of his hands on my ass. He squeezed the flesh without mercy, pulling, sheathing himself as deep as he could within me.

The grinding, the drag of my clit against the soft happy trail on his tummy did it for me. Uncharacteristically quickly, I was coming, arching my back and pushing my tits right into his face where the wet heat of his mouth sloppily, greedily made a trail of hickeys and left the tender flesh stinging in between whispering dirty praises.

Tony's girth felt that much thicker as my inner muscles spasmed. I began bouncing rapidly, chasing that fleeting feeling that turned me into an incoherent, babbling mess and made my spine feel liquid. The man under me matched the vigour, meeting me halfway, fucking up into me as much as the position allowed him to.

"Fuck, Tony, so big," The angle changed as I bent down to devour his mouth once again. The silky tresses between my fingers became a tangled mess.

One of his arms slid under my dress, holding it up and wrapping around me, pressing me close. Tony was getting under my skin. I felt the slick of him through his shirt. The faint glow and scratch of the arc reactor solidified the experience for me - it was so Tony, the most obvious part of him, perhaps, when he wasn't smiling.

His mouth was occupied with ravenously consuming every noise that left me. I was loud, always have been, and there wasn't a situation where it's been as blatantly on display as then - in a dark car, in the middle of nowhere. We shared those noises like a gourmet meal.

"Baby, baby girl," The tell-tale tightening of his abs was an obvious signal to his incoming orgasm. "Fu-u-uck". He seemed beyond words.

"Tony, please, I'm so close," I begged him to hold on, just a moment more, my own release a glimpse on the horizon. He moaned, deep and low in his chest and I felt it - right there, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

Suddenly, a sharp sting blossomed on my backside. My pace stuttered at the sudden pain; and the following thrill had me increase my pace, pussy squeezing around his cock, clutching at it in hopes of finding release. The need ached.

"Baby girl, come for me," Tony ordered, winded and stuttering, causing me to grip his shoulders, nails digging into taut, tan skin. I was nearly there, the fall approaching inevitably. How did the man manage to sound so cheeky whilst being ridden to near-death, I didn't know, but his next words had me muffling a scream into the pristine, expensive fabric of his blazer. "Come for Daddy."

I wasn't sure of the sound that I made while my body involuntarily obeyed his orders. I shuddered momentarily, following with another curl of my toes as I felt the hot seed of his release spill right into me, curses being muttered in my ear and his arms, his hands, him bodily holding himself as close to me as humanly possible. We stayed like that - maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was just five minutes. It felt heavenly.

"My jeans are FUBAR," Tony suddenly snorted.

"I think one of the straps on my dress is somewhere in the backseat," I parroted him. "Good times."

"Indeed," He stretched under me, gently, as to not dislodge me too much.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the driver's side window. A faint outline of a flashlight shining behind the glass - I was very much grateful for the fact that all the glass on Tony's car was tinted.

Of course, both of us were unprepared: startled, we jumped, spreading the mess from between my thighs all over the place. Groaning, I climbed over the console and rolled down the window a couple of inches, noting how Tony had one of his gauntlets shining - and a police officer's equally shiny badge greeted me. Grumbling, I rolled the window the whole way down.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask your license and regi-whoa, um, I'm- good evening, Mr. Stark," The cop was young and very obviously hadn't slept very well. The words he mumbled on autopilot and stopped only when Tony's face popped up somewhere around my lap.

"Hello, officer," Tony smiled, bright and shiny public smile. "Don't mind us, just enjoying a quiet evening." The engineer's smile was cheeky. His pants weren't even done fully up and I, no doubt, spouted some serious case of sex hair, not mentioning the torn dress. I had to discreetly check if I didn't accidentally flash the poor cop.

"Uh, umm, sorry Mr. Stark," The cop - officer Charles, I checked - nervously stammered, obviously privy to the situation at hand. "Is everything alright here?"

"Absolutely. We were just about to leave."

"Well then. Uh. Can I ask - a picture?"

Really, dude? REALLY??? I was about this much away from just starting the car and driving the fuck off. But Tony was calm.

"Sure," He looked at me mischievously. "Let's swap, I'll drive us home."

His penchant for trouble knew no limits. I rolled my eyes, but it was just for show, really. The littlest worm of malicious compliance had already started squirming in me. My coat lay forgotten in the back seat - I proudly displayed the torn dress strap and the array of lovemarks leading up to my throat as I stepped out of the car. The crisp autumn air barely affected my sex-heated body outside of the warm car, doing only as much as to stiffen my nipples.

The way officer Charles did a double-take, I'm sure he understood my and Tony's previous activities and re-evaluated his own life choices. Let the boy learn a lesson. "Bye-bye, officer," I smiled my biggest, girliest smile and made a point at slowly turning around and sashaying to the other side of the car where Tony stood, discreetly checking his belt.

He met me with a smirk, chivalrously holding the door open and making a show at helping me into the car. We shared a muted chuckle.

"Ugh, I gotta go home, all my school shit is there," I rolled my eyes to the skies. Tony drove. AC/DC sung sultry tunes in the background quietly.

"Pack a bag, I'll wait," The engineer's warm hand found my own. He said what he said without even missing a beat. Such an unexplainable circumstance, all these new feelings I was feeling. It was a lot to process.

And I was cock-drunk. Packing my bag was an absolute ten minute disaster. I was pretty sure my socks didn't match and I had forgotten my make-up, but I triple checked for the most important - homework.

"I'm starving," I announced, hanging off Tony in the elevator. For all purposes, we were a perfectly poised domestic portrait. Disheveled, my coat and Tony's blazer loosely draped over my left arm, my backpack hanging off his right shoulder. He hadn't bothered with putting on his shoes and my neck, face and hair looked like a crime scene.

The elevator doors opened at the same time Tony gathered his wits: "Bye-bye officer? Really?"

A dozen confused eyes stared at us from the common room couch. Surprised for the second time that evening, all we were capable of was owlishly blink in their general direction, words dying before they could have made it to the surface.

I snorted first, towing Tony in the direction of the kitchen. "What was I supposed to do, pray tell? Flash him?"

Behind us, I heard a thud. Then Steve's voice cursing. Then Bucky's.

"You could've. If you wanted to," Tony mused. "You have great tits."

"Aw, thanks. You have a nice dick. It's got a great curve."

"Aren't you the nicest?" Tony kissed my cheek, hiding the upcoming laughter as we both heard more swearing and moaning coming from the living room.

"I need a broom," Bucky appeared in the doorway just as I was pulling out some pizza slices to reheat. The super-soldier made no move for the supply closet, however, instead openly staring at my state of dress. His face bore the tell-tale signs of a person trying to hold in their cackling.

"Did you see a ghost, Elsa?" Tony quirked from the coffee machine.

"Can I flash this one, then?" I suddenly had an Idea. And when I had an Idea, I was unstoppable. "He might not be an officer but technically he's a Sargent, so..."

"Okay," Bucky began to inch backwards, step by step in the direction of the living room, holding his hands up. "Y'all crazy. I'mma head out."

"Good call," Tony saluted Barnes' retreating back. "As for you? You're in so much trouble, Princess," The arm that wasn't occupied by a coffee cup wrapped itself around my waist, grip firm and unyielding. Blindly groping for a moment, it found my boob, squeezing it twice for good measure as Tony slurped his holy bean juice. "Mine."

"Yours," I agreed simply. Meaning it. Then, I leaned backwards to whisper into the shell of his ear with a snicker: "Daddy."

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[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Why do you think Tomarry would work? I see a lot of people hating on it and the only response I ever see is that they come from similar backgrounds or people just like enemies to lovers. Also which horcrux do you think Harry would go best with (including Voldemort)

So, this is probably a more complicated question than you intended, but that’s because I live in bizarre head canon lands that few ever dare venture towards.

With that, let’s get started.

But What Do You Really Ship, Muffin?

First, it probably bears saying that I’m not really a Tomarry shipper. I know, I’ve written more than one Tomarry story, so if that’s not Tomarry what is? Well, remember that those Tomarry pairing tags are a filthy lie. October I committed the grievous sin of breaking up the Tomarry and throwing Tom at Harry’s mother. Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus is barely a Harry Potter fic in any capacity, and while the ship is the driving force of the fic, it’s also this nebulous, distant, thing that really shows up only in strange side stories where I try to make people laugh. When Harry Met Tom is probably the closest that I take seriously, but I also intentionally subvert all your typical Tomarry tropes for my own enjoyment. 

The only Tomarry story I’d say I’ve ever actually written is “The Burning Taste of Fire Whisky”. It’s a very popular story, sadly perhaps my most popular on Ao3, but I actually loathe it entirely. 

A lot of the time I feel like I just happen to have a Tomarry shirt on and then I suddenly became a subject matter expert. If you want the Tomarry opinions from real Tomarry people, I’m probably not the best person to ask. In fact, if you want really any standard answer about Harry Potter anything, I’m not the best person to ask.

Now, I’m not just saying this to be a hipster but to sort of give some background for why I’m going to give the answer I’m going to give and why it’s going to be 100% different from everyone else’s and yes, sometimes, I do think I came from Mars.

Will the Real Tomarry Please Stand Up?

So with that, the bottom line is: taking canon as JKR intended, completely at face value, Tomarry doesn’t work at all. This is because JKR fully intends a very flat, one-dimensional, and frankly quite boring Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle’s evil, Tom Riddle was born evil, Tom Riddle was evil in the womb because of rape. He is completely and utterly irredeemable and understands nothing of love.

Well, that sort of sinks the ship right out of the harbor, doesn’t it? A Tom Riddle incapable of love is one incapable of growth, especially in a romantic focused story. If you try to write it you just get weird sociopathic whump porn where Tom probably whips Harry in a closet somewhere.

Added onto this we get that, despite what she put down on paper, Harry is supposed to be a straight man. That aside, he’s also a righteous man whose understanding of things like love and friendship mean he’d never sully himself with gross Tom Riddle. Ew, what are you people thinking?

Well, what if we take canon just mostly as JKR intended? What if we just look at the characters the way she actually wrote them versus what she was trying to do? Still no dice.

Tom might now be capable of love, be a far more engaging character who can go somewhere, and be pulled out of a pit of rage and despair by someone but that someone ain’t Harry.

First, while I firmly believe Harry is gay (gay, not bisexual, compare his descriptions of Cho/Ginny to Tom Riddle/Sirius Balck/Cedric Diggory/Charlie Weasley, that boy pants after Tom Riddle and Cho’s kiss is “wet”) he’s also a much worse person and much dumber character than JKR intended. It’s really the first that damns the pairing.

I have a whole giant post on how Harry’s a little yikes but the long and short of it is that while Harry thinks he understands friendship and love he’s also someone who will cut out his friends at a moment’s notice if he feels remotely slighted, uses and sacrifices them for his own ends, gleefully uses unforgiveable curses when given the opportunity, and is the kind of guy who would cut someone up in the bathroom, leave them to bleed to death, and only really feel bad about it when it seems he might get in trouble for it.

This Harry ending up even with a Tom who could potentially be redeemed would more likely lead to, well, weird psychopathic whump porn where Harry tortures Tom in his basement to make him pay for all the horrible things he’s done while Harry claims he’s the most moral person ever because his mother loved him.

So, yeah, no Tomarry for you.

But Wait, Didn’t You Say You Believed in Tomarry?

What I believe in are archetypes.

Remove what Harry’s supposed to be, remove what I think he actually is (one maladjusted, violent, dude with a whole lot of anger issues), let’s make Harry what perhaps JKR didn’t even know she wanted: one of those rare fundamentally good heroes who warps an entire story with the strength of their inner nobility.

Harry Potter is meant to be a story about love and friendship. Now, it’s not actually, and we sort of end with Harry being Jesus and none of us are sure why. Except that he apparently forgives Dumbledore and Snape for brainwashing him to be a kamikaze agent. They’re the bravest men he knows. But let’s pretend it actually is a story about love and friendship.

To me, the strongest story of love we could possibly have had in this world is the redemption of Tom Riddle. Here is a man who was supposed to have been irredeemable since birth, he has done many horrific and unforgiveable things, grew up in extreme hardship in a society that spits on everything he ever was, and is mired in bitterness, despair, and rage. Beneath all that, Tom Riddle has given up hope in the world and is now content to burn it down himself.

Harry, through the nobility of his spirit and integrity of his character, somehow managing to redeem Tom Riddle is not only a fascinating story but a very good one at its core. The fact that they are tied together by destiny as well as tragedy, that Harry houses a shard of Tom’s soul (and I do so love horcruxes), only makes it more so.

This is the kind of story that carries epics, and that is why I gravitate towards it.

Now, do I change Harry up to do so? Good god, yes. I wouldn’t say any Harry Potter I have written is anything close to the Harry we know from canon. Some are closer than others, but they always in some way deviate. That said, from what I’ve seen almost nobody writes the actual Harry we remember from canon, so this is a very standard practice I can get away with, without too many people calling foul.

Ultimately ending in tragedy or in the full redemption of Tom: either works with these base characterizations and the world is your oyster.

What About All Those Other Arguments?

I’m not going to get into this too much except that I wouldn’t argue Tomarry works for the reasons you list. At all.

On the similar backgrounds, the fact is Harry and Tom don’t have similar backgrounds, JKR just says they do because she likes that trope (and so do many of the readers).

Harry and Tom have dark hair, they both came from abusive homes, but that’s where the similarities start and end. Upon entering the wizarding world Harry is treated very very very differently from Tom Riddle.

Harry, grows up in this weird sort of pseudo poverty where he dresses in rags because the Dursley’s hate him but he never actually has to worry about money. When he gets to the wizarding world he can afford everything he wants. He can buy a new wand, he can buy new supplies, he can buy all the candy off the trolly cart. Money’s not an object to Harry, is barely even a concept.

Tom Riddle is presumably on scholarship and money is everything to him. He buys a new wand but likely all his clothes and books are second hand. He can’t buy whatever candy he wants, probably can’t afford gifts for his peers, Tom is very aware of the haves and have nots.

Harry similarly never has to worry about a career. He never gets that far, fearing for his life so much, but the fact is that Harry has enough money that he doesn’t actually need to work. More, who would turn down the great Harry Potter? He wants to be an auror, is afraid he might not qualify, but it’s not really desperate.

Tom Riddle is to the world an impoverished muggle born. He tries for the Defense position and is turned down mostly because Dumbledore threw shade. Dumbledore tries to make it seem like Tom desperately wanted to work in this weird shop in London’s magical back alley, but probably that was the only position Tom could get (everything Dumbledore ever says, especially in those pensieve lessons, must be taken with a large grain of salt). Everything else goes to friends, family, and purebloods.

Adding to this, Harry has this glowing reputation. Now, Harry might not like it, he might want to be just Harry but the fact is that everyone has heard of him and most people worship the ground he walks on. Doors are open to him everywhere. His first introduction to the wizarding world is from a man who loves him and gushes about Harry as a baby.

Tom Riddle is someone with a muggle last name, who comes from a muggle orphanage, in other words he is nobody from nowhere. (For reasons I won’t get into here I find it very doubtful Tom ever revealed he was the heir of Slytherin until he became Voldemort and let Tom Riddle fade into obscurity). His first introduction to the wizarding world is some asshole lighting all his stuff on fire because the matron talked shit about him.

Harry wants to stay at Hogwarts because the Dursleys are abusive. Yes, this is terrible, but Tom wants to stay because Nazis are bombing London and Dippet says, “So sorry, Tom, no exceptions. Enjoy those luffas!” Harry’s concerns are never treated with the same disdain.

To make a long story short, they do not have similar backgrounds, at all. To say they do is utterly laughable and not much better than saying “they both have dark hair, they have so much in common!”

They both came from abusive homes, yes, but even the nature of those homes were very different and when they went to Hogwarts they were worlds apart.

... So much for not getting into it, eh?

As for Enemies to Lovers, well, it’s a trope and people enjoy it but it’s not my jam. I could go into why, but I think I’ve said enough.

Which Horcrux Do You Think Harry Would Go Best With?

We see so little of the individual horcruxes I’m not sure I can really take a stab at this. I sort of just make up their personalities as it suits me every time I write them.

With that I suppose I’m partial to the one in Harry’s head? Given that he has a front row seat to Harry, has seen Voldemort’s tragic demise, I think he’s in the best position to end up with Harry in a meaningful manner.

Especially as, if you think about it, he could represent the very last of Tom Riddle’s humanity. The single shard of humanity that remained in him until the bitter end.