#touch starved hero

[the-modern-typewriter]

I’ve not seen any starved touched hero stories so may I request a starved touched hero and the villain finds out and helps them. It’s fine if not:)

"Tell me," the villain murmured, as the hero's breath came out quivering. "When was the last time that someone touched you?"

It wasn't what the hero had expected.

"People touch me all the time."

"Kindly."

"You're not kind."

But the villain's touch was such a gentle thing; the hero's brain refused to register it as cruelty, even as the villain's fingers were curled around their throat. They didn't squeeze though.

The hero should have pulled back already. They should have shoved the villain away. They did none of those things. They leaned limp against the wall, almost hypnotised by the back and forth sweep of the villain's thumb brushing sweetly against their pulse point.

It was pitiful for a nice threat to feel like affection. They were pitiful.

The villain's gaze was intent.

"What are you doing to me?" the hero whispered.

"I'm not doing anything." The villain's powers worked with touch, but they had never touched the hero before. The hero had always been too quick. The villain had managed that time though, advancing, shoving the hero to the wall and then - then this. The villain had touched their skin and then they'd gone perfectly still for a few seconds. The villain could expose all secrets with a press of their fingers, do all manner of things, but...

The hero swallowed, eyeing them. They genuinely didn't think the villain was doing anything.

Each second that ticked by seemed a confession, a betrayal, a plea for something.

The villain's hand slid slowly to to cup the nape of the hero's neck. "You didn't answer my question." The villain pulled the hero a step closer, dragged them flush. The villain's other hand wrapped around the hero's back.

They were being hugged.

A confused, entirely too soft sound left the hero's throat. Questioning. A little choked. It felt like a trap and it felt entirely too desperately lovely.

The villain tightened their grip, tucking the hero's head against their shoulder.

"Skin hunger," the villain said, softly. "Touch starvation. You are a famine, love, I can feel it."

"I-" The hero didn't know how to finish the sentence. The villain was so warm against them, a solid and reassuring presence. That couldn't be right. "What?"

"It has been entirely too long, hasn't it?"

"You're not doing anything?"

"I'm hugging you."

"Your powers-"

"-Mean I know exactly how you are feeling. How much you need this. So are you going to be good and shut up and let yourself have it?"

The hero choked out another gasp of air.

Was that was why the villain had stopped? Why they'd seemed to switch gears so abruptly when they could have finally won? The hero swallowed and shut up, even if it was a bad idea. Inch by inch, when the villain did nothing more but hold them, the hero relaxed. They melted.

"Why are you doing this?" the hero managed, pressing their face against the promise of the villain's shoulder.

"Kindness?"

"You're not kind."

The villain huffed, breath rustling the hero's hair. They pressed a kiss atop the hero's head. "Mm. Temporarily benevolent. No strings attached, pinky promise."

It was definitely suspicious, but it really did feel so unbelievably good. The hero felt like they'd settled into their bones for the first time in years. Maybe longer.

They really couldn't remember the last time someone touched them kindly, for an extended period of time. A brush of accidental touch in a crowd. A hairdresser's clinical contact. None of it was anything like what the villain gave them.

"That's better," the villain said, with a sigh. "Your nerve endings have stopped screaming at me."

"S-sorry. I-"

"It was merely an observation. You don't need to be sorry."

The hero expected the villain to get back to it, or step back. They didn't. It was probably the longest hug in the world.

Finally, the hero let themselves reach out, wrapping their arms around the villain in turn.

"Good," the villain said.

"Are we still...I shouldn't let you touch me. I'm not stupid."

"No."

"Are you going to let go of me?"

"When you actually want me to, sure."

"And you can...feel that?"

"Yes."

The hero squirmed with embarrassment. The villain tightened their grip again. The hero went still.

"Years," the hero whispered, finally. "It's been years. I can't remember the last time."

"Mm." The villain nuzzled into them. "That's not going to happen again. I don't believe in torture."

Neither of them much felt like fighting when they finally broke apart.

[blackcathjp]

ppl seem to like the idea of harry courting draco or harry doing big public displays of affection to ask him out (think promposals). but i feel like he'd be so awkward at dating. he doesn't quite know what to do with or show physical and emotional affection, the weasleys give him bad advice on romance, he's also oblivious when ppl are interested in him.

what he does have is earnestness and determination - he makes the first move on accident, just bursts out his feelings, brave and embarrassed.

draco knows all about courting and respects tradition, but he's not the type to make the first move (not anymore at least, not like when he was a kid, where running to his parents for safety and comfort was a luxurious option). he's calculating and weighs his options - what if he confesses but harry doesn't like him? what if he confesses and harry DOES like him? what if harry likes him, but doesn't like dating him? he's more hesitant and guarded with his feelings, but is more likely to show his affection towards loved ones.

harry asks him out in the middle of a conversation, just because he loves watching how passionate draco gets about something he loves. even after weeks of dating, draco insists on courting him the "proper way", showering him with gifts, writing letters that make harry blush, leaving loving post-its all over harry's home and work desk, delivering anonymous flowers, publicly asking if he can escort harry home (they're both embarrassed). he's touchy feely too, which harry isn't used to, but physical contact becomes easy and second nature now with draco. harry doesn't quite get the courting, yet still loves it.

harry: you already have me, draco 😊😆

draco: i still want to woo you though 🥹😤

[sunnynwanda]

Heal me

Warnings: slightly suggestive/ kissing, touch starved Villain, sort of hurt/comfort.

Based on and inspired by this wonderful idea by the amazing @aflyingsheepnamedrose. I had to write this, it was simply eating me alive.

Villain's body hits the wall, sliding down onto the concrete floor with a loud thud. They groan, every limb of theirs aching with dull pain and acute yearning. They cough out blood but cannot stop themself from thinking about the gentle brush of Hero's fingertips against their skin that will follow once the 'battle' is over. They've been deprived of it for far longer than they could handle, their starved body longing for the pain to be followed by a touch.

Hero lands next to them, fisting their shirt to drag them into a standing position. Villain sags against the wall, heaving through every breath. Yet their injuries have positively nothing to do with the dire need flaming in their veins. It's severe, all-consuming, and it terrifies the living light out of them. Villain craves Hero's touch with the entirety of their being. Villain craves Hero. 

"Think you should surrender?" Hero suggests, eyeing Villain with a hint of concern in their bright blue eyes. Their fingers feel almost tender when they curl around Villain's chin, lifting it up so their intent gaze can inspect their buttered face.

"Not yet," Villain gargles, blood filling their mouth again. They turn away, spitting it out before meeting Hero's eyes, a pleasant thrill feeling their lungs at the sight of Hero's distress.

"I won't..." Hero wants to say they won't keep up the vicious cycle they found themselves in. They won't fight Villain anymore - only to spend the following night healing them with their touch. Hero wants Villain to know that they can't keep hurting them, that it tears them apart in ways they never imagined possible, and that it is the reason they've been avoiding them. That they cannot handle witnessing - worse yet, inflicting - their pain. They want to say that Villain doesn't need injuries to have Hero showering them with kisses. They want to tell Villain they need them safe and sound, not beaten and buttered. Hero needs Villain.

But they don't say that. They can't. Instead, they threaten. "Surrender, or I won't heal you anymore."

Villain has to restrain themself from outright begging. They press their lips together, nodding shortly, and avert their eyes, gulping as their mind runs at a hundred miles a minute. Hero's hands let go of their shirt and Villain exhales shakily, shutting their eyes to suppress the shudder raking through their entire being. Something inside them quivers, helpless and desperate. Villain decides to call it disappointment, but then Hero's arms wrap around them, picking them off the ground with close to no effort.

Villain knows it's not disappointment, because the quiver in their chest grows stronger, thrashing against their ribs with unabated persistence. They refuse to open their eyes as Hero carries them all the way to their apartment and straight to their bedroom.

They lay Villain down on their bed and sit beside them, cupping their jaw with a cold hand. "Vil..." Hero's voice is small, and - if Villain didn't know better - they'd think it sounds choked up. "Look at me."

Villain groans, peeling their eyes open. The sight that greets them leaves their heart throbbing in their throat. Hero's eyes are brimming with tears, and their lips are trembling when they lean in, pressing them to Villain's forehead. They pull away, only to plant a kiss on Villain's split eyebrow, then shift to their bruising cheekbone, over to the other one - the small cut on it heals in mere seconds.

Villain watches them with bated breath, biting the inside of their cheek to keep any sounds from escaping them. Hero's hand on their jaw moves, tilting their head up as their lips trail down Villain's neck, ghosting over their collarbones. Villain registers a wet sensation on their skin but fails to process what it is until it drips down the base of their throat, leaving a damp trail in its wake.

Another drop hits Villain's burning skin, then one more. Their nemesis chooses to ignore them as their hands make quick work of Villain's shirt, pushing it open and trailing their lips down Villain's chest, fixing a broken rib back into place.

"Hero?" Villain can't help it when their hands take hold of Hero's head, lifting it off their body. Their tear-stained face wrecks Villain's heart worse than any injury could.

"I can't." Hero mutters in explanation, leaning down to plant another tender kiss onto Villain's feverish skin, their hands gripping their enemy's sides with uncharacteristic urgency. "I can't..."

"Hero, please," the pleading tone of their voice seems to snap Hero out of it as they withdraw hastily, their eyes widening. Villain moves to sit up.

"I'm sorry, I was... t-that was the last cut, y-you're all good now," Hero stutters out, panic contorting their face into a mask of horror. "I didn't mean to overstep."

Villain can't help the chuckle that escapes them at that conclusion. Their fingers brush through Hero's hair, earning a soft sigh from their nemesis. "I wasn't exactly trying to protest the kisses."

"You were not?" Hero repeats, their gaze finally daring to land on Villain as the criminal shakes their head. "I thought you wanted me to stop." Hero confesses, their head dropping, only to be brought back up again.

"No way in hell." The words fly out of their mouth before Villain can process them. They cannot bring themself to care about the consequences at this point. Not when Hero's hands are rubbing their sides unconsciously, not when they can still feel Hero's tears on their skin. "If you ask me, you don't have to stop, ever."

"What?" Hero's gaze darts back and forth between Villain's lips and eyes, wheels turning in their head as Villain watches them with a small smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. They bite their lip to keep their grin under control but fail miserably.

"You heard me," Villain states, causing Hero to roll their eyes. "Why were you crying?"

Hero freezes like a deer in headlights. Villain lets out an amused chuckle, still holding Hero's face in their hands. And, when Hero doesn't respond, Villain decides to take matters into their own hands.

"Can you heal one more cut for me?" They ask, barely containing the cheeky smile threatening to break onto their face any minute now.

Hero nods, their expression shifting into that of worry. "Yes. 'Course I can. Where?"

Villain doesn't utter a word, instead pointing to their bitten lip. They also give up on keeping a neutral expression, allowing the smug smirk to stretch in full glory.

Now that leaves Hero speechless and gaping. For several seconds, they stare at Villain in disbelief, their heart pounding heavily in their ribcage.

"Are you gonna let me bleed o-"

Villain's playful remark is cut short when Hero lunges at them, connecting their lips with more force than Villain anticipated. They fall onto their back, with Hero landing on top of them as they focus on healing Villain's 'dreadful' injury with painstaking dedication.

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[echo-stimmingrose]

Coach Hedge: *patting his head* you did good, I'm proud of you kid.

Leo: *Immediately bursts into hysteric sobs*

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi, it’s the touch starved anon again :D Yes, I did mean that one. :D And I did mean it as an ask, but I didn’t clearly express that, so, uh.. apologies..!

It was a truly cruel way of realisation.

The hero watched how the villain’s fingers twisted the fabric of the hero’s suit. Wounded like this, they were easy prey.

But the hero could only think about these two things: the villain’s hand and their safety.

“Are you okay?” the hero asked, breathless. They had managed to pull the villain with them. Away from the fighting, away from the pain and suffering. The villain took in a deep breath but it didn’t sound healthy.

“You’re here,” the villain whispered. There were tears in their eyes, threatening to drop.

“I’m here,” the hero repeated. The villain’s hand found the hero’s and suddenly, a million thoughts ran through the hero’s mind.

They hadn’t expected this to become a problem. A real problem. They hadn’t expected that their own loneliness would get in their way. That they had to fight against it to gain control over themselves.

“Are you alright?” the hero asked again. They could hear shots in the distance where their team was still fighting over territory.

“I’m okay,” the villain replied. Their other hand found the hero’s, too. And the villain looked into their eyes, so tiredly yet softly.

“You scared me. Like, you scared me a lot back there. I thought you were dead.”

“Got betrayed,” the villain said. They leaned against the wall, sitting on the dirty floor in the warehouse. Their face contorted and the hero grit their teeth.“You came.”

The hero watched them quietly. They wanted to help but they had done everything they could. Bandages, painkillers, reassurance.

The villain’s eyes bored into theirs, as if the hero was the only thing between them and death. As if the villain would die if they didn’t look at them.

“Of course I did,” the hero said. “I could sense something was wrong.”

“Lucky me.” The villain smiled softly and the hero wasn’t sure what they were feeling. Their cheeks were warm and their chest didn’t feel tight. They didn’t feel pathetic or weird.

“Just relax. I got you. Our next stop would be the hospital but I like to think that I’m quite good at stitching by now.”

“You’re very beautiful, you know?” Slowly the villain raised their arm and before the hero could realise what happened, the villain’s hand was on their cheek. “I shouldn’t accept your kindness. Nor your mercy. You’re too nice to me.”

“You’re worthy of it, though.” The hero realised they were desperate. Desperate for the touch, desperate for the words. There was comfort, they realised. Comfort in the villain’s presence. More than usual.

“You think so?” The villain moved and immediately moaned. The painkillers hadn’t come through yet.

The hero covered the villain’s hand on their cheek with their own.

“I sent this whole rescue team to get you out. My boss is gonna kick my ass once he finds out.”

The villain laughed.

And then, gently.

“Can I kiss you?” The hero didn’t even have to think about it twice.

“Yes,” they said and before they could get cold feet, the villain pulled them against their chest and kissed the hero softer than should’ve been allowed.

[yukisshittyposts]

Imagine Bakugou with touch starved!reader.

You have a dangerous quirk that can be very harmful to others. In result, you avoid skin contact in fear of accidentally touching someone and hurting them. You're like that with everyone, even your own boyfriend. Bakugou notices what you do to yourself and how touch starved you've become so he takes the matter into his own hands.

He starts to express his feelings for you more often. The boy literally practices in his room before doing or saying anything nice to you because he ain't good with feelings. He hugs you more often and forces you to hold hands with him whenever you both can, much to everyone's surprise. He doesn't care or worry about his hands getting damaged. The explosions he releases everyday during training and since he was a kid, have made them indestructible.

Bakugou sometimes even sneaks into your own dorm to hold you close. You scold him every time in fear of Aizawa or any other student catching him but you don't dare kick him out. Never. How can you when he acts like that towards you? You love the boy to death.

I often like to think that he himself is touch starved so it's good for both of you.

[pendarling]

An Answer To A Problem

They flinched when they touched them. Villain had always looked so stoic and unnerved, but this time, they flinched. 

"Scared of me?" Hero cooed and pressed a hand to their chest, weapon raised to their neck. 

"...Not even for a second." Their eyes subtly dashed between the placement of their hand against their still heaving chest and back down the alley. 

Hero raised a brow at them confidently. Villain was good at lying, but not enough to fool them this time. They pressed them further into the wall, where Villain's constant cocky smile showed up to dismiss any ideas of fear. 

"I had taken you for a tougher criminal than this."

Villain smirked. "Well, let's not assume too much." Their smile wavered briefly as Hero's hand crawled closer to their neck. Villain bit their lip as a sudden burst of thrill came over them, their hands still innocently raised to their head without weapons. 

"And what happened to that playful attitude of yours earlier? What did you say you would do to me, hm?"

Villain shut their eyes regretfully, a wave of heat appearing along their cheeks and down their neck. There was nothing sweeter in this world than getting the opportunity to have Hero's full attention. Their gloved hand clasped onto their chin, smoothing it down as soft eyes gazed at them. 

Hero tilted their head, "You said you were going to pin me up on a wall and what?"

"Alright, alright, you got me..." They took a deep breath as soon as Hero placed the cold edge of the knife on their cheek, forcing their head to turn in their direction. 

Hero tucked one of Villain's loose strands of hair behind their ear, noting their relaxing shoulders. They ran a hand to their cheek, calmly stroking it as they shuddered under their touch. "Well, you've got a nice reaction to me." 

The criminal stayed still, too focused on not giving away their plans. "Hmmm."

Leading a life of crimes had made Villain foreign to the touch of anyone. They couldn't recall the last time they let their guard down, and Hero was a great distraction from their loneliness. 

They leaned in like a puppy leaning closer to its carer. Hero analyzed them for a while longer, enjoying Villain's rare look of helplessness for once. A slanted smile showed up, and Hero unexpectedly stopped. "You're touched-starved." They realized, and their eyes lit up. "I should've known! Is that why you always prefer hand-to-hand combat?"

"What?" Villain snapped out of their haze, their ears burning, "That's not why--"

Hero chuckled and rubbed their hand along their arm, "Yeah, but this gets you dopamine, doesn't it? Wow... a big bad offender like you--"

"Shut up!" They slapped their hand away, embarrassed. What would their comrades think of this? What were they thinking!?

Villain internally berated themselves shamefully. Hero wouldn't be one to put them in front of the entire world for becoming so desperate. Their intentions were generally good, but they had an itching feeling they'd use this against them.

Hero moved away, "I think it's cute you're coming to me for help to relieve your stress." They paused, idling for a second. "Though, I was thinking of other ways." 

They sighed. 

It wasn't like this initially; Villain never realized how horrible it had gotten for them over the following few weeks after joining the Villain's League and cooperating in everything they could. Their focus was solely on every mission, and eventually, by the end of those long nights, Villain was alone again. It wouldn't be wrong to say they found joy in their work because it was a distraction from their aching need to be embraced or even looked at, not with fear but with something else. 

That was until they saw a chance with Hero. They never asked why Villain was so insistent on fighting without weapons. Which was, on their part, their fault for leading Hero to believe they were trying to engage in... seduction. It was a stupid excuse to seek assistance in their search for contact with anything. 

They placed a hand to their face and groaned. "I'm not entertaining this."

"I don't mind," Hero grinned.

"What?"

Hero shrugged, "I don't know, maybe we can find a middle ground for the both of us. I get you all to myself," They bit their lip to stop a laugh, "and I'll satisfy your terrible need to be touched."

"Don't say it like that!" They blushed feverishly again, "I don't need anything! Whatever it is I can just steal it!" They patted their waist and pulled a short knife. Hero swiftly jumped out of their way as Villain rushed them. 

"Wait-- Villain!" Hero dodged a blow from their nemesis and clashed against the tall tin garbage cans. They stood up and blocked a kick. "Are you going to kidnap me!?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself. I'm only going to kill you."

They laughed shakingly, "So, you're so hopeless that you're willing to kill me, because why? You don't like the thought of me giving anyone else attention?"

Villain grasped onto the short knife and narrowly missed Hero, cutting their suit only from the side. They quickly grabbed Hero by the waist and pulled them back before they could get away. Their back meeting Villain's chest as the blade rested under their chin. Hero gasped. 

"You know what? Maybe I will keep you after all."

The saviour smiled, a rosy colour tinging their cheeks. "Ehe... Well, if you wanted me so bad~..." 

It took a lot of power not to feel numb being so close to Hero and acting as if the tiny space between them left no effect, but it was painfully evident from their rival. They licked their lips knowingly. Their hand sifted through Villain's hair, who stood right behind them, freezing up immediately. 

"I'm not going anywhere, darling. I'm all yours."

Villain hesitated. 

"...Yeah, no, I'm starting to think you want me to kidnap you."

They laughed nervously. Well, it was circumstantial, but they didn't mind.

~~~ MASTERLIST

[mechanicalpiper]

got the urge to write for the first time in months and pumped this out in like a few hours sooo

cw, kidnapping and kinda suggestive :3

Civilian x Villain Snippet

Civilian was bored.

After slogging through another day of monotonous work and once more coming home to nobody to talk to, they'd decided to take a quick walk in the nearby park to clear their head. Everything had felt the exact same for so very long, months blending together into a bland slop of generic emotions that filled the past years of Civilian's memory- they were begging for absolutely anything to break up the cycle, the same way they had been for years. Even the feeling of the wind gently blowing by and the beautiful view of the moon at this time of night had dulled by now, and-

Civilian’s train of thought was cut off by the long-forgotten feeling of someone grabbing them.

They let out a startled yelp as an arm wrapped around their torso from behind, pinning their arms in place and preventing them from running. In a panic, they tried to yell at their apparent captor, but their protest was stifled before it began by the second arm pressing something over their mouth and nose… something soft with a sickly sweet smell to it. They kicked and squirmed the best they could yet the grip didn't budge in the slightest. They wanted to hold their breath knowing full well what was pressed over their face but they were in too much of a startled panic to control their breathing.

The worst part was the blush.

Their cheeks were absolutely burning. It was such genuine danger, they knew how unbelievably irrational it was to get any enjoyment out of the situation they were in, but despite everything in their head yelling ‘no’ as loud as it could... the feeling of someone else- the feeling of being helpless in someone else's grasp- spiked a bizarre reaction they so badly wished to go away.

It got even worse when their captor spoke.

“Big mistake, honey~”

Civilian recognized the voice. The last person they would've expected: the Villain they see causing so much havoc on the news. The Villain they hear putting craters in cities in the distance during their superpowered scuffles with the Hero.

Why them??

They squirmed more, now knowing full well it was absolutely hopeless- a thought they quickly tried to push out of their mind after feeling their body's reaction to it. They didn’t have the slightest clue what someone so powerful would need any Civilian for, let alone someone like them with no information to give up, right? 

But here they were, helplessly squirming in the Villain's grasp, arms pinned by their sides… cries for help muffled… mind slowly clouding…

a-and it’s…

    so,

         so

            w-warm… 

[arealphrooblem]

Deathtouched Part 2

I had no idea people would like this so much! Thank you guys! Here is part two early because I got inspired!

Warning: this contains serious kissing/making out.

Synopsis: Hero, a person who's power nullifies other powers, is the only person who can touch Villain, a person who kills whatever he touches. When Villain shows up at the Agency hell bent on revenge on Supervillain, Hero is the only one who can stop him.

Part one here:

They kept Villain in one of the interrogation rooms, hands taped into his gloves and shackled behind the chair. A black hood covered his head. Agency took no chances.

Hero sat in the chair across the table from him and waited for him to wake up.

It did not take long. In fact, it did not take as long as the amount of sedative should have given him. The Villain came to with a violent jerk, the chair scraping over the floor.

“It’s okay,” Hero said. “You’re safe. You’re in the Agency’s custody.”

He stilled at the sound of their voice.

“Safe?” he asked, sardonic.

“For now. So long as you answer our questions. And you don’t kill anyone else.”

He pulled at his bonds, cocked his head to the side. “You’ve made that second one exceedingly difficult. But it wouldn’t have worked on you regardless. . . .would it?”

Underneath the cold exterior was a thread of . . . yearning. It had been a calculated risk, kissing him. But if someone had the power to kill everything they touched . . .when could they have ever had anything resembling affection?

“I am a Nullifier,” they explained. “No one’s powers work when I touch them. And what about you? How does your power work?”

“What do I get for answering your questions?”

Hero cleared their throat. “Um . . .you’re not really in a position to negotiate.”

Honestly — neither were they. Hero was not trained for interrogation, but today was a day for firsts.

“Then kill me. I have one purpose left in me, and if I cannot fulfill it, then I have no need of this world. I owe your Agency nothing.”

Hero nibbled on their lower lip as they weighed their options. They didn’t want to see Villain killed. He didn’t attack out of the need for chaos or senseless violence. He had tried valiantly to let Hero, a perceived innocent and weaker party, escape. And the Agency needed to know what kind of heinous actions would fuel a man like this to such single minded revenge.

Taking another calculated risk, Hero stood up and walked around the table to Villain. His head cocked to the side, following the sound of their footsteps. Hero reached out and pulled the black sack off, revealing a mess of dark hair and that fathomless stare of his.

“If you answer my questions . . .I’ll touch you.”

His face spasmed from yearning to guarded in an instant. “ . . . How so?”

This was the gamble. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Hero climbed into his lap, settling hesitantly sideways with their legs dangling over his thighs. One arm looped over his shoulder and gripped the back of the chair for balance.

The other cupped the side of his face. Their thumb brushed back and forth over his cheekbone and his eyes fluttered closed.

“Like this.”

They skated the back of their knuckles down his cheek and then traced their thumb down the sharp line of his jaw. The Villain’s breath stuttered out in a shaky gasp. Hero could feel his chest heave with each breath, like a frightened horse.

“What — what do you want to know?”

Through light caresses and gentle scrapes of fingernails over scalp, a dark, tragic story unfolded. The Agency knew Supervillain had experimented on powered individuals, but they didn’t think any of them had been successful. According to Villain, however, one experiment proved very successful. After multiple agonizing gene therapies, Supervillain had created the ultimate weapon of a human being.

And then he had disappeared, leaving the weapon behind to face a world he no longer belonged in alone.

Of course, Villain didn’t know for years it was because the Agency had finally caught Supervillain and locked him away. Only recently did he learn, through the shattered network Supervillain left behind, what really happened.

It made Hero’s heart ache to hear how young Villain was when the experiments first started. How lost and afraid he had been for so long before it all hardened into cold, calculating rage. How worthless he viewed his own life when compared to his purpose.

It made their touches grow more and more . . .affectionate. They played with his hair, they traced the shape of his ear, his jaw, felt his throat swallow roughly under the pads of their fingers. They smoothed the frown lines of his brow, brushed over the faint traces of freckles on the bridge of his nose, and once, allowed their lips to brush over the thudding pulse of his neck.

That had caused him to choke mid-sentence and Hero had to pull reluctantly away to allow him to continue.

They were the touches of a lover and it felt addictively dangerous, like running your fingers over the flame of a candle. It didn’t help matters how Villain reacted so deeply to every touch — every hitched breath, every flutter of his eyes, every hard swallow only drew Hero more to him. For the first time, they felt like they had power, rather than the void of power.

Finally, Hero had only one question left. They asked it with surprising reluctance.

“What plan did Supervillain have for you when he made you?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said, swallowing, “ . . .if you kiss me. Again.”

Just like last time, Hero did not hesitate. Though this kiss was much sweeter, slower. They cupped his face in both hands, fingertips buried in thick dark hair. Unlike last time, he kissed Hero back with a soft inexperience that made Hero’s pulse thud loud in their ears. They licked into his mouth in short, teasing passes of their tongue until they felt a groan vibrate from his chest to theirs, until the hesitancy of inexperience quickly melted into bold slides of tongue, until —

Until the power shuts down, plunging the windowless room into pitch darkness.

Until gloved hands came from around the chair, cuffs dangling from one wrist, to wrap around Hero in an iron grip.

Part 3 Here

Tagging: @those-damn-snippets @harpy-can-read @puddleslimewrites

[the-modern-typewriter]

You're writing is amazing!! <3 If possible, is it alright to do something focusing on an embarrassed/shy sidekick that got injured in battle, and has to let the (flirty) hero tend to their wounds/wash hair/feed them because of how weak they are at the moment? Bonus points for a very touch starved sidekick, and some tension.

"Sit down."

"It's fine, I can-"

"Sit." The hero met their eyes. "What sort of mentor would I be without giving you the appropriate post-battle aftercare?"

"You don't have to phrase it like that," the sidekick mumbled. They did sit, though.

"What?" The hero grinned, opening up the first aid kit. "Aftercare?"

The sidekick looked down, horribly aware of the heat radiating off their face.

The hero laughed quietly; warm and fond.

"The injuries aren't that bad," the sidekick said. "I'm just tired." So very, very tired. Their limbs felt like melted marshmallows; pitiful goop.

"Mm, no wonder. You were very impressive out there."

"Just doing my job." They shivered as the hero began to make quick work tending to their minor wounds, touch warm and strong and confident. They tried not to lilt into it. They blamed the exhaustion in the fact that they did.

"And now I'm just doing mine, hotshot."

The hero pressed closer, shifting so that they could take the sidekick's weight. They stroked their fingers, entirely unnecessarily, entirely lovely, through the sidekick's hair.

The sidekick's eyes fluttered closed. A small, embarrassingly needy sound left them. "S-sorry."

"Don't be. You're sweet."

"I'm useless like this."

"I think it's adorable." The hero placed the last plaster over a cut on the sidekick's temple. "You never let me look after you normally. I like it."

"Well, I'm supposed to be supporting you...."

The hero pressed a kiss to the sidekick's temple.

The sidekick's eyes, for all of their tiredness, snapped open. They glanced up at the hero.

The hero smiled again. "Kissing it better. Did it help?"

The blush returned full force. "You're ridiculous."

"I could kiss the rest of them too. Just one might be a fluke. It's not scientific."

"So stupid." The sidekick covered their burning face with their hands.

"So cute."

"Don't tease me." It was another mumble; torn between the delicious squirming feeling that the teasing left in them and the sheer horror of it, that the hero might be mocking them.

They didn't think the hero was mocking them, though. They weren't the sort. Did they flirt with possibly everything? Yes. Were they unkind? No. But that didn't make it real. That didn't make the desperate rise of hope in the hero's chest any easier to bear.

"You are cute." The hero did a last check over the scrapes and scratches, before moving. They pulled the sidekick up into their arms, cradling them like they weighed nothing. "My cute little absolute devastation of a powerhouse."

"It was nothing." The sidekick clutched hold, stomach swooping.

"You saved my life."

"You save them. I save you. It's nothing."

"Hey." Some of the flirting dropped. The hero waited for the sidekick to meet their eyes. "It's not nothing. Thank you."

The sidekick swallowed, but managed a nod.

The hero carried them through to the spare bedroom, and for all of the sidekick's flittering nerves, they were half-asleep by the time they arrived. Sapped of strength and energy. It made it easy to go along with the hero for once, to let them tuck the sidekick beneath the sheets.

The world felt lulled.

The hero caressed their cheek, taking another moment to study them, gaze intent.

The sidekick slid theirs away, breath catching.

"I'm not teasing you," the hero said, softly. "I'm quite genuine in everything I've said or done. I wouldn't tease you. Not like that anyway."

"Oh."

"Get some rest, hotshot. Good job today. I'll be in the other room if you need anything."

The sidekick wanted to stay awake. They wanted to tug at the string of the hero's earnestness, whatever the hell it all meant. Their eyes were already closing again, the room tunnelled at the corners.

Their last act was to reach out, woozy and weak, and take the hero's hand. It felt like the bravest thing they'd ever done. Far bolder than that day's fight.

The hero stopped. They mattress dipped with their weight.

"Okay," they said, stroking their thumb over the sidekick's knuckles. "I'll be here."

And, even when the sidekick woke up hours later, they were.

[letters-unsending]

No. 53

////

Villain is either very good or very bad manipulator. Accidental seeking of comfort.

////

Villain pinches the thin neck of his wine glass as he peers over Hero's shoulder.

"I was quite fond of that set," he mused, surveying the wreckage between Hero's palm.

Bits of fine China and glass gleam, their sharp edges catching the chandelier light. Hero holds the last intact piece of glassware, a teacup, with spasming fingers. His wrist jerks and amber beads of tea join the runnels of sweat slipping down Hero's palm.

"You said you wouldn't give me anything that mattered," Hero grits out.

"I lied," Villain reaches, curling his hand over Hero's damp shoulder, "more pressure would have ruined our little lesson and I promised you that we'd start out easy."

The teacup shatters. Fragments fly like spittle and speck the embroidered tablecloth.

Hero palms the table and breathes a shuddering breath, staring as the tea soaks into the fabric, deep orange overtaking paisley print like a bloom of fire. Villain's fingertips hang over his clavicle. Every ragged gasp reminds Hero of Villain's palm perched upon his shoulder, pressing down.

"I can't do this." Hero exclaims, jolting upward. The tile beneath his toes cracks as he wrenches himself free, away from the table and the feast of broken porcelain spread upon it.

Villain's fingers hang in the air before curling around the back of Hero's deserted seat. He turns his head toward Hero, who stands with shoulders hunched and hands fisted at his sides. The sound of his heaving rips through the room before drowning in the thick curtains and glimmering finery fixed upon the walls.

"Why, we've just begun, [Hero]," Villain croons, "and you've been doing splendidly.”

“I never wanted power. I wasn't supposed to have this power.” The gold decor gleams in Hero’s peripherals as he staggers back. “I'm so tired of being careful.”

“Then be careless. Be brutal.” Villain sets down his wine and glides over the crack in the tile. He settles in front of Hero and grabs his tense shoulders, manicured nails biting into muscle, backed for the first time by a measure of superhuman force. “I won't stop you.”

Beneath Villain’s touch, Hero startles, head snapping up. His grip warms his shoulder with pain. The ache rolls down his spine, a nostalgic twinge.

“Did you even want to help me,” Hero asks, settling into Villain’s hold, leaning, “or was this just a ruse?”

Villain almost releases him. His fingers spasm across Hero’s shoulder blade before steadying, singing that constant stripe of pressure into his skin–a force that would've felled any other man.

“Of course, I wanted to help. Your predicament is so similar to my own,” he assures, “it's only natural to sympathize, but control is not your issue. Since gaining your power, your every waking moment has been a practice in control.”

“I have broken everything you’ve given to me,” Hero reaches out and grabs Villain's forearms, applying a reciprocal, biting pressure overtop his satin sleeves, “how could that possibly reflect control?”

As soon as Hero’s palms press in, Villain’s knee jilts forward before steadying again. He takes a long breath under the guise of delivering his next words with trepidation.

“When I first inherited my power, I was like you. I was careful, so very careful, [Hero].” Villain pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth as Hero’s hands slid further down, cupping his elbows. “But the more you care, the more you exhaust yourself. Every delicate thing becomes a burden you must bear simply because of who–what–we are and there comes a point where even the most well-meaning person can not maintain such constant vigilance.”

“I have no other choice. I can't stop caring.” Hero squeezes down, thumb digging against Villain’s bicep. “I'm a Hero now. What if I hurt someone?”

“You can still care when you need to, but you must allow yourself to relax. Indulge in your strength,” Villain glances toward the glittering sea of glass shards, “do not fear it.”

“Okay,” Hero whispered, dropping his hands, “I think I understand.”

Villain slowly withdrew his grasp from Hero’s shoulders, his elbows still pulsing with the press of Hero’s grip, hanging onto the sensation like a physical afterimage.

<><><>

“Go ahead.” Villain breaks the silence as they hover in the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“If you desire it, I understand,” Villain swallows down an anticipatory breath, “you shouldn't have to fear the act of comfort.”

Hero approaches, placing a tentative hand over Villain’s wrist, increasing pressure in increments, testing the strength of the bones beneath. It's a fickle weight compared to before, to those angry fingers digging into his arms. Lightly, Villain breathes through his nose.

“You were so bold before. You didn't hurt me,” Villain keeps his voice instructive, almost monotone, “you need not be concerned now.”

“I'm not concerned,” Hero retorts, sliding his hand up to Villain’s shoulder, “I'm just adjusting.”

Villain closes his eyes, his heartbeat thumping beneath Hero’s palm. He channels his buzzing impatience into impeccable stillness and wishes he'd finished the wine he'd left on his dining table.

And finally, finally Hero pulls him in, hands connecting over his spine.

It's still too light. Hero stalls against him, his shoulders a tense plane.

“Reserve your care for the people who need it.” Villain reaches around, placing a hand over Hero’s back. He feels him breathe against his fingers.

Then there's pressure, sweet pressure around Villain’s ribs, stealing his breath. For a moment, Villain wishes he could bruise, wishes he could prolong this sensation and paint it purple across his skin. He chokes out a cramped breath as Hero’s head turns against his neck.

Immediately, Hero lets up. Villain’s hand keeps him from lurching away.

“No, no, you did not hurt me,” he leads him back in, “I am alright."

Wariness draws Hero’s back into a taut line and Villain sighs, dropping his head against his shoulder.

“It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“I hurt the last person I touched. Broke [Other Hero]’s hand. It was so easy,” he lamented, “I hardly even noticed it happening until it was too late. Forgive me if I'm a bit nervous.”

This time, Villain pulls Hero back and squeezes, pressing his nose against the collar of Hero’s sweater. He runs a hand down his spine, marveling at how nothing breaks, at how Hero unspools and leans into him.

“I'm sorry. I know how hard this can be,” Villain murmurs, though some part of him feels like an open wound in the wind, bleeding and overexposed.

The pressure came again and Villain remembered to breathe as Hero held him. These arms and hands would one day grow stronger. One day, they would bruise Villain, and Villain would be capable of breaking, but by then, Villain would have Hero’s mercy.

He would remember Villain as a guiding hand and source of sympathy.

Villain hoped that was enough.

[ianthedebonair]

it's national lovingly hold the face of your local retired* hero day

[unhonest-iago]

Touch Starved

Male reader

Aizawa had offered y/n a shoulder to cry on multiple times in the past, but he’d never taken up the offer. Wanting to process his emotions alone, suffering with the pain in silence.

Which is why when y/n finally did, Aizawa let him control the pace. Both sitting in his room, in their respected sleep clothes. ‘Can you wear a shirt?’ The hesitancy in y/n’s voice made him quickly comply, keeping his confusion to himself.

Leaning against the mountain of pillows, Aizawa waited for y/n to come to him. Silently observing him as the tension melted from his body. Laying his head on Aizawa’s clothed chest with extreme caution.

Aizawa sunk into the bed, making himself smaller as y/n’s arm came up to clutch at his shoulder. Worried that he’d gone too fast when he rested his arms around y/n’s waist. Back muscles tightened before releasing a second later.

Hearing Aizawa’s heartbeat in his ear calmed his anxieties. ‘Y/n, are you…touch starved?’ Rubbing circles with his thumbs. Feeling y/n nod a simple ‘yes,’ along with the slight tear that fell down his cheeks.

‘I know you’re a resilient man, y/n. You’ve been through your own personal hell. Please know that I care.’ Aizawa’s voice becoming gravelly as it slowed to a whisper.

‘Why?’ The word choked out.

‘Because everyone needs someone, and all it takes is a single crack to crumble.’

[whumpasaurus101]

“You miss me…”

It was more of a statement than a question. A murmer but bold enough to be heard

Villain gulped hard, refusing to let their eyes meet their nemesis’, “Y-yeah…”

They flinched an the gentle grip which ghosted their jaw, slowly forcing their chin up. Their tear-filled eyes met with Hero’s. The distant city lights making the other’s eyes glisten in the night.

“Tell me.”

Villain’s bottom lip wobbled before they caught it between their teeth, blinking back tears as they spoke through the lump in their throat, “I…I miss you, Her-Hero…”

[kneedeepindramaandcocaine]

I’ve been waiting for a Nico Di Angelo pov for 5 books and now it’s here it’s just unrelentingly sad.

[gingerly-writing]

Prompt #3379

“You’re the most powerful pyrotechnic in generations. The greatest hero the world has ever seen. And yet you’re miserable. Permanently burning. Your fire doesn’t hurt you, but it scorches everyone else. So no one can touch you.”

“No need to rub it in-”

“No one, except me.”