#{ it scarred him both physically and mentally }

[timetodecidedjo]

Logan watched Wade as he read from his tattered and worn out copy of The Canadian Mounted, resting his back against the doorframe. The Merc was so engrossed in the small red book in his hand that he had barely noticed Logan just standing there watching him. The older mutant felt a smile creep onto his face while a warm fuzzy feeling washed over him. How had he become so unbelievably lucky to have been given a second chance at such a wonderful life? Just seeing Wade lying in their bed doing something so mundane as reading a book gave him such a giddy feeling, an extremely foreign concept to the 200 year old mutant. The domesticity of it all was so unfamiliar for him, like the warmth in his chest he felt when he and Wade were together.

Logan unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down his legs and kicked them off to the side. Using both hands, he pulled at the hemline of his white undershirt, exposing his hair-covered chest. He slithered into the bed and straddled the Merc, resting all 300 pounds of his adamantium laced bones on Wade’s chest. Logan took in a deep inhale of Wade’s scent, and he felt like he had found peace. He could finally just relax.

“Such a good kitty kitty,” the Merc teased, using his fingers to draw small spirals along Logan’s back that made the mutant sigh. He placed his book down on the small bedside table so that he could focus all of his attention on Logan. His best friend. The man he loved.

I can’t believe this half naked, golden skinned, drop dead gorgeous piece of meat loves me, Wade thought as he raked his hand through Logan’s thick brown hair. He felt the mutant slide a warm hand underneath his shirt, pushing the hemline up and exposing skin. Logan started pressing kisses onto Wade’s jagged stomach that set his nerve endings on fire. He felt his body twitch absentmindedly, before he could stop himself. Some days, he could tolerate the pain better than others. Today had been a rough one, but the pain was manageable, nothing ole Wadey couldn’t handle. He had literally been ripped in half by the Juggernaut years ago soooo…. There wasn’t much he couldn’t handle physically.

Hehehe was that a sneaky dick joke?

“Does it hurt when I touch your skin?” Logan muttered into Wade’s stomach as he traced a line of scar tissue down the merc’s abdomen.

On the contrary, gorgeous. Never when you touch me.

“I live in chronic pain, Wolvie. My skin is the least of my worries.”

Logan rested his head right there on Wade’s hip, continuing to glide his fingertips across his lover’s skin. He was quiet for a beat, overwhelmed with sadness for Wade. Logan had been through quite a lot of pain in his lifetime, but not the physical type of pain that never went away.

“I hate that,” he finally replied, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of Wade’s fingers in his hair. It felt so nice to just be with Wade, to just lie together in their bed and enjoy each other’s touch. Both had been so incredibly touch starved for years that the smallest caress was enough to send them into a frenzy.

Logan slid his hand back down Wade’s abdomen, feeling the sunken texture of his skin in the process. No matter what Wade would ever say about himself, Logan thought he was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Underneath his discolored skin and raised scars was a man who had been tortured emotionally, physically, and mentally, but still had so much love in his heart to give. Even after everything he’d gone through in his life, he was always willing to do whatever it took to protect the ones he loved… his chosen family. Logan admired Wade for more than one reason, but the biggest one was that he loved so fiercely and would go to the ends of the earth for his friends.

“It’s life, Lo. It’s my life.”

“Doesn’t make me hate it less, bub.”

Wade smiled and rested his head back on the headboard and thought about how much Logan had changed his life… how unhappy he would be without him. He still couldn’t believe he got to call Logan his.

“Does it hurt when I kiss you here?” The mutant questioned before placing a soft kiss onto Wade’s lower abdomen. The Merc quietly gulped, slid his hand down to Logan’s neck, and squeezed slightly. Even if it had been the worst pain that Wade had ever experienced, it was nothing if it meant a kiss from Logan was on the other end of it. He shook his head no out of fear that his boyfriend would stop.

Logan lifted Wade’s sweatshirt and Tshirt up slightly, exposing more scarred skin that was begging to be kissed.

“What about here?” Another kiss. Even the softest touch sent a shockwave of pins and needles across his skin. He didn’t answer. He didn’t want Logan to stop. His skin was going to hurt regardless, so he might as well get to enjoy his boyfriend’s touch.

Logan looked up at Wade with warm, tender eyes and begged for their lips to touch this time. The Merc obliged and leaned down, smiling into their soft kiss. The mutant’s hand slid up Wade’s skin and onto his back where he gently caressed the merc’s muscles, not realizing that it probably hurt Wade more than it helped. But Wade didn’t care. It still felt good to be loved like this, even on his worst days. It felt good to be the object of Logan’s affection.

[burningembers91]

War-Torn Love - Baek Kang-Hyuk x Fem!Reader

Please note this storyline will deal with issues of PTSD, and negative body image issues.

Synopsis: Two years ago, Dr Baek Kang-Hyuk saved your life. Separated by war, you've searched for each other since that fateful day. But the war changed you, physically and mentally, and you're no longer sure you're good enough for the man you fell in love with.

A/N: I binged four episodes of The Trauma Code last night am I am OBSESSED!!! Give it a watch on Netflix, it's so, so good.

Some nights, the pain still kept you awake. The searing, burning, tearing agony that ripped its way from your left hip, down across your thigh to the top of your kneecap. The scar was ugly and red, a twisted, knotted mass of tissue that ached when you were too cold, burned when you were too hot, and stretched your skin to almost breaking point every single day. You never wore skirts or dresses anymore, too ashamed and embarrassed for anyone to see the disfigured flesh. You hadn’t had a boyfriend, or even a date in two years. No one would want to be with someone as mangled and broken as you. Some days the stiffness in your leg was so bad that you limped, your figure hunched over like a frail pensioner. You didn’t feel like you anymore. When you looked in the mirror, you saw a woman in the prime of her life, but you felt well past your best.

Even if you did have the courage to date, no one would ever live up to your expectations. You’d had those met and exceeded by the man who had saved your life. You were still walking the earth thanks to one man who had so selflessly put his life on the line to save yours. Two years ago, tired of the mundanity of the everyday and looking to give something back, you decided to volunteer with a small charity, providing assistance to countries ravaged by war. It was your job to help distribute food, clothing and sleeping bags to families escaping conflict. You’d been based in Afghanistan, and that was where you’d met Dr Baek Kang-Hyuk. The man was unstoppable, a force of nature that not even God himself could bring down. He never seemed to stop, never seem to tire. He’d helped countless people, working round the clock to save the lives of men, women, and children.

You’d worked together for six months, a friendship blossoming somewhere between the derelict buildings and war-torn agony. He was quite a reserved man, but during the long, lonely nights, you’d sit and talk while he kept an eye on his patients. You learned he was originally from Seoul, that he’d trained to be a trauma surgeon because he wanted to be just like his dad. He’d spent time in the army and could hit a target point blank with his eyes closed. He was kind, if a little cocky, and he made you feel safe. Somewhere along the line, you felt your friendship change. It was small at first, a little crackle of electricity in the dark night, barely noticeable, but then it slowly burned into something more. Stolen kisses in the corridor of the makeshift hospital, a comforting hug when the world seem a little too heavy. You never took it further than that; you couldn’t afford to be away from the patients for long enough, but you both longed to spend the night together.

You only had a week left of your volunteer work when disaster struck. You’d been heading back to the hospital with a supply of food and water when the car bomb went off only meters from where you stood. You were thrown backwards, your body ravaged by shrapnel and rubble. You don’t remember much about that day; you only remember it was the last time you saw Kang-Hyuk’s face. It had been him who had saved you, him who had stopped the massive arterial bleed, who had given you his own blood in an emergency transfusion on the side of the road. You’d been airlifted to safety shortly after, and that was the last time you saw him.

You had no other information on your saviour, other than his name and the fact he lived in Seoul. He had no social media presence, no Internet presence at all. Once you were out of hospital, you searched desperately for him, phoning all your charity contacts to see if anyone could find him. But you had no luck. You were even desperate enough to travel to Seoul to see if you could find him. For two years you never gave up, setting down roots in the city he called home. You didn’t even know if still lived here, didn’t even know if he was still alive. But you couldn’t give up, not when he’d fought so hard to keep you alive.

You’d taken a job at Hankuk University Hospital in the administration department, slowly building yourself a life, but never really allowing yourself to fully live it. you felt empty without Kang-Hyuk, felt so lost and alone. Those six months you’d spent with him had been the best months of your life, and he’d been ripped away from you so callously.

But fate was a funny thing; and she knew you’d you waited long enough. A new attending trauma surgeon was due to start at the hospital. You weren’t privy to any more information, you administration position making you one of the lowest in the hospital ranks. But as you strolled through the corridors, your left leg dragging ever so slightly behind your right, you saw him. He’d bulked up a little more, his broad chest and shoulders filling out his designer suit. He strode through the hospital with such purpose, his very presence commanding authority. He always had been a cocky bastard, but in the best way possible. He didn’t notice you as he walked, too focused on getting to his destination. But you’d waited so long to see him, and you couldn’t let him slip through your fingers again.

“Baek Kang-Hyuk!” You shouted his name, passersby stopping to stare at you. He turned, a look of annoyance on his chiselled features. But then he saw you, the girl he’d given his own blood to in order to save. The girl he’d spent the last two years trying to find was standing right in front of him. “It’s you,” he choked, closing the gap between you. You didn’t care if people were watching, tears streaming down your face as Kang-Hyuk pulled you into his chest. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, holding your face between his hands as he took you in. You’d changed since he’d last seen you, the stress and anxiety that had plagued you since that awful day had made their mark on your face, but you were still so beautiful. “I looked for you,” you told him, “I never stopped.” “Neither did I,” he smiled. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

“Dr Baek to trauma bay 12,” a voice over the intercom broke through your happy reunion, tearing you apart once again. “Take my number,” he said, thrusting his business card into your hand. “Text me. I can’t lose you again.”

As he hurried down the corridor to the next emergency that awaited him, you looked down at his card. You weren’t the same person you’d been two years ago. You’d change, and not for the better. You were bitter, scared of your own shadow, and ashamed of the body that had been wrecked by the car bomb. You wondered if he’d still want you when he realised your scars hadn’t healed. You wondered if he’d want you when he found out you still woke up at night screaming, your body and sheets soaked in sweat as you relived your fractured memories.

You wrote and rewrote your text to him a dozen times that day, your head and heart battling against one another. Every time you went to press send, the image of your scar-ridden body stopped you. You were damaged goods, and now you’d be working together it was probably best to keep things professional. You didn’t want to risk falling in too deep and getting your heart broken again. I look forward to working with you, Dr Baek. You kept it nice and simple, and wholly professional. Two years you’d been searching for the man you’d fallen in love with. But now that you’d found him again you realised, you’d never stopped to think whether he’d still want you. You were the girl with a broken body and a damaged mind. You’d never seen Kang-Hyuk so much as flinch, but the slightest noise sent you running with your tail between your legs. He was brave, and you were just a scared little mouse.

As much as it broke your heart, you’d keep the man who saved your life at arm’s length and save you both the heartache when you no longer lived up to his expectations.

[stillthesunkenstars]

the latest chapter of and they became monsters the fall of great men had me going ough

[sweet-beezus]

Finally, I can decide on my Player's middle evolution yippee!!

[leondxs]

Leondas curling up in his cell as much as he possibly can, trying desperately to hide from his captors despite being fully vulnerable. His fear overwhelming him until he breaks out into sobs, begging them not to hurt him again. Strangely enough, behaving more human than he ever has in his moment of raw terror.

[bcneheaded]

ok but what if artemis chose the name artemis after he got out of hell and started on his rampage not because he was being spiteful to the gods.... though he will very much say that's probably the reason... but rather because his memories were warped and his mind and body literally melted and twisted into something else so violently different (demon yk yk) and so, he literally just....can't remember why he liked the name artemis.... he just did... he just. chose it. for "no reason". maybe!! maybe artemis was one of the very few gods he actually LIKED and so, the name stuck out in his frayed and wrecked mind. more on that line of thinking.... maybe he doesn't even remember his own daughter, Hedone (daughter between eros and psyche!)

[aaliyahtheawkward]

Correction, it would be funnier if Tim is the one who tells him about how Nightwing beat Joker to death, and Bruce resuscitated him.

His manipulative ass frames it in such a way that Jason's delulu mind starts connecting impossible dots, and suddenly, Superman is blamed for that as well, while Dick, Tim, and Bruce are somehow forgiven for all previously perceived wrongdoings.

You see, Tim has been bidding his time and side-eyeing Clark ever since Superboy joined his team and imprinted on him like a sad, rejected baby duckling. So when he sees his predecessor waging an impossible war against Superman and winning, he's like: "My time has come."

I really don't like any version of "Jason learns one tiny fact about how people reacted to his death and immediately is crushed by how unfair he was being and forgives everyone!!!"

However there is one version of this I would allow due to it being very funny, not a complete waste of his character potential, and close to providing real evidence of something that would let him give Bruce a pass:

Superman realizes who the Red Hood is and why he's gunning for Batman and decides to try to straighten things out before the end of Under the Red Hood. He flies over to him and explains that he was the one stopping Bruce from killing the Joker. This gets understood as Supes being the reason Batman still can't kill him. Then Jason immediately pivots his entire life to becoming a Superman villain.

Bruce gets a phonecall: "Hi Dad, I forgive you, and I'm gonna need that 100 pounds of kryptonite back right fucking now."

[yeyinde]

PRAIRIE WOLF | masterlist

John tucks his hand over your nape, pulling you into the warm bracket of his neck where his pulse beats steady under your forehead. Firm. Strong. All heat.

"I'll protect you," he rasps, chest rumbling under the swell of your belly. The growl—brassbound, ferric: a promise and a threat—glues to his words. Sinking deep. "Both of you, Coyote. Always."

And despite everything that tries to convince you otherwise, you believe him.

[OR: in an attempt to run from your abusive ex, you find yourself crashing into the arms of John Price, a man determined to keep you, and your unborn baby, safe. at all costs. but you're not the only one with secrets or scars.]

18+. past abuse (emotional, physical, mental). sexual trauma. unplanned pregnancy. childhood abuse. healing. eventual smut. protective John Price. gruff lumberjack Price and the stray he picks up. eventual Dom!Price (more in essence than act). divorced!John Price. implied child death (not reader's baby). age gap. grief. cultural differences. set in the early 90s. nonlinear narrative. Reader has an unconventional nickname (plot-important). Reader has a backstory. tags will be added as the series progresses.

AO3. MOODBOARD.

prologue part one | hinterland part two | moose meat part three | mîscacâkanis part four | salt cure part five | teeth and claws part six | pack epilogue

[miryum]

☆ miryum's dc universe☆

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t home when you first moved in. If he was, he would’ve offered to help with the heavy furniture. Alfred raised a gentleman, of course. But no, he was off in a safe house, nursing a wound from last night's patrol. A bullet had grazed his side and it was leaving a nasty ache

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then didn’t mean to wake you when he crashed into his apartment that night, via window. How could he know that someone had just moved into the apartment next door and was startling at every bump in the night?

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was very surprised when he, still in his Red Hood gear, heard someone knock on the door soon after. A very sweet voice called out, “hello? I just want to check that you’re okay? I know it’s not my place and you might be a serial killer, but just wanted to make sure you’re not having a heart attack.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who threw off his helmet and voice modulator before clearing his throat and calling out, “nope! No, I’m fine. Uh… thank you?” 

Neighbour!Jason Todd who breathed a sigh of relief when the voice responded, “oh, okay. I- I’m sorry. Good night.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who stood up, even though his bullet wound cried out against it. He wasn’t sure why he stood, for he could already hear your footsteps departing. His face twisted into one of confusion, both at his reaction, and the fact that someone had come to check up on him. The majority of his neighbours didn’t care

Neighbour!Jason Todd who next met you when he was going to get the mail. He saw you outside the lobby door, crouching down. His curiosity got the better of him and he stepped outside during dusk in Gotham, something no citizen should ever do

Neighbour!Jason Todd who found out that you were feeding the street cats. You were fucking feeding the street cats. There were at least six cats surrounding you, weaving in between your legs as you set down a bowl of milk and some cat food. He cleared his throat and you looked up at him, already smiling. How could someone in Gotham smile? At him? His long sleeves, while hiding his physical scars, surely couldn’t cover the anxiety and trauma embedded deep within him. “What… what are you doing?” he asked softly

Neighbour!Jason Todd who simply stared at you as you responded, “I’m feeding the cats.” After a pause, you added, “they were meowing at me when I came home from work so I picked up some cat food from the store and brought it back to them. Aren’t they just adorable?” You reached out to pet one who gladly turned on its belly for you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who asked, “you know, they do that to everyone? They’re smart enough to know a new face that’ll feed them.” And then he mentally kicked himself because now this girl thought he was pessimistic and didn’t feed the cats. Then you shrugged and everything seemed better. “Yeah, I know, but they look so hungry…” The way your lips tilted to the side made Jason want to stare at them forever

Neighbour!Jason Todd who almost offered to adopt the cats because that meant that you would come over to his apartment to see them

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then rubbed the back of his neck and announced, “my name is Jason.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who melted when you laughed lightly and introduced yourself. He knew he had found the one

Neighbour!Jason Todd who then became much more aware of your presence in the apartment building. It wasn’t hard to piece together your routine (which you should think of changing regularly because it would be too easy for a criminal to figure it out) and if that meant Jason went to go on runs every now and then that coincided with your grocery trips, then it was a coincidence. He would grab his mail the same time you did. He would take more care to not make as much noise when he returned after vigilante nights, as to not wake you. It was the little things, he reasoned, that would make you notice him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t know what to do when the power went out. Of course, he had his survival kit ready and stocked with a flashlight, provisions, a blanket, a portable charger, and numerous weapons. He was ready to wait it out, but he didn’t know what to do when it came to you. Should he go over and check on you? Or would that seem like he thought you couldn’t handle yourself? 

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t have to worry for long because a soft, rapid knock came at the door. He wasn’t surprised when you were there, small flashlight in hand. “Does this happen often?” is the first thing you asked. Jason huffed a laugh and replied with his own question, “is this your first time in Gotham?”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who invited you into his apartment. He wasn’t sure whether or not to count this as a first date, but you were soon bundled in his blankets and asking questions about his personal life, so that was like a date, right? He hadn’t been on many and didn’t intend to now that he met you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who did not know what to do when you fell asleep on his couch. Holy shit. Fuck. What should he do? He didn’t want you to think he assaulted you while you were sleeping, so for a couple minutes he sat in his kitchen, watching you wearily and putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. But then he didn’t like the distance between you, so it was a real conundrum

Neighbour!Jason Todd who instead sat awkwardly on his ottoman, watching TV with the volume muted and subtitles on

Neighbour!Jason Todd who didn’t even leave for patrol when the other members of the Batfam asked for help. The blackout was causing Gotham to run wild, but Jason was content with locking the doors and making sure you were comfy

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was still sitting on that ottoman when you woke up in the morning. He carefully evaded your questions on whether he slept and instead decided to make you breakfast. When you complimented his breakfast over and over, joking how you would have to come over more often if it meant his cooking, Jason agreed maybe a bit too quickly

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was the neighbour you then called on if you had a package arriving during work hours and needed someone to sign it. He was the neighbour you didn’t mind seeing in the halls because a chat with him wasn’t seen as uncomfortable. He was the neighbour you asked to help repair the sink (you got a very lovely image of his shirt riding up as he laid underneath your sink and maybe it was because you were ovulating but oh god did you want to jump his bones). He was the neighbour who, when he found out you liked similar movies, stumbled over his words to invite you to watch them with him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who actually didn’t love the genre of movies you did, but would like them if it meant seeing you

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t sure what your relationship status was with him and it ate away at him almost every moment of the day. You were always in the back of his mind, always making his heart warm 

Neighbour!Jason Todd who tried to coax you back to your apartment after you returned home one night, stumbling and intoxicated. But you didn’t want to. You were firmly standing in his doorway and kept blabbering about meaningless things. When he finally convinced you to rest on his couch, you declared, stumbling over your words, “see? This is why I like you Jason. You- you’re a- a very- You’re a very good person.” You then reached up and patted his cheek. “Love you, bye-bye.” And you promptly fell asleep

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was then in a state of shock of the next three hours

Neighbour!Jason Todd who ended up calling Alfred at four in the morning, prompting the older man to think the ex-Robin was kidnapped and needed help. As it turned out, Jason needed help, but with a girl; not a crime lord. Alfred sent Jason off with a few words of wisdom and luck, the most notable being, “Master Jason, if the girl does not return your feelings, then you can simply move out of your apartment and back into the Manor.” Jason thought that was a worse fate than you rejecting him

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was very patient the next morning, giving you painkillers and a large glass of water. When you remembered the previous night, mortified, he tried to calm you down, eyes worried that you would leave him. He wasn’t sure what he would do if you left his life

Neighbour!Jason Todd who, in a mess of panic and embarrassment, managed to blurt out, “no, wait! I- I want you to stay. Please. I know you didn’t mean your words last night, but I really like having you in my life. Can’t we… be friends?” It broke his heart to suggest it, but he’d be willing to keep that platonic bond if it didn’t drive you away

Neighbour!Jason Todd who waited, heart in his throat, when the seconds ticked by and you didn’t answer. “But I did mean them,” you finally whispered out. “I like you, Jason. And I wanna do something about that.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who stammered and spluttered, “well, then, let’s do something.”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who took you out on dates every week and didn’t know what to do when you found the Red Hood gear in his closet when you were searching for a hoodie to steal

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wasn’t expecting you to laugh, of all things. “I guessed,” is all you said. And that’s when Jason kissed you for the first time

Neighbour!Jason Todd who became a staple in your life, not only because you two lived in the same building, but because of how amazing he was. There were no other words to describe it. It was like the man knew your needs before you did and fulfilled them just because he wanted to. He was the epitome of “princess treatment”

Neighbour!Jason Todd who was scared for you to sleep over for the first time because of his nightmares but found out that when your head was on his bicep (cutting off circulation to his fingers), and your body was tucked into his, hair messy and lips slightly parted, that he didn’t have nightmares. It was like you scared them all away, just by being there

Neighbour!Jason Todd who wanted you to sleep over much more frequently

Neighbour!Jason Todd who made it a habit to buy cat food at the grocery store because you still insisted on feeding those damn cats after months of living in Gotham. Nevermind that the cats had found which apartment you lived in and climbed up to the window via the fire escape. Nevermind that the cats realised that when you weren’t in your apartment, you were most likely in Jasons. And nevermind that he now had cats outside his window almost 24/7 that he begrudgingly fed because who was he if not subject to you or Damian’s rants about feeding the fucking cats

Neighbour!Jason Todd who just liked to touch you. He liked to be reminded that he was much bigger than you and his body could swallow yours up whilst cuddling on the couch. He liked to put his arm around your shoulder and trace patterns on your skin. He liked to hug you tightly from behind because it reminded him that you were there and you were his. He liked to do this in public too – not huge amounts of PDA, but a hand on the waist or slipped in your back pocket. A hand on the small of your back when crossing streets. Reaching out behind him to grab your hand while walking through large crowds

Neighbour!Jason Todd who, a year later, signed the lease to your apartment, so that now you were neighbours who shared a bed and a bathroom and a home

[awzominator]

Day 13 Scars

the amount of effort I had to put into these and they still don’t look how I want is frustrating but alas time is not on my side

ramblings under the cut

Mikey: Gave Mikey Lichen Burns from that one time he got disintegrated and then reanimated via electricity. He died n got better and honestly it is one of the most violent injuries that I recall for him. Like he plays it off so easily cuz he has super powers and all that jazz but that’s so messed up. Also Raph yelling for him OOOFFFFF will never forget how filled w rage and hurt that dude was. He was ready to kill ❤️ Such a wild episode and I love how Mikey was so depended on in order for the plan to succeed. It was Mikey’s turn for the Self sacrificing bit and he crushed it

Leo: Get Shreddered idiot!!! The fucked up knee and throat from when he got beat up and thrown thru the window. This is def my fav event to happen which is a wild thing to say. It’s the most obvious thing to go for but I personally loved the farmhouse arc and Leo’s need for recovery. That dude is still not well and is repressing stuff but they don’t have time to heal. Their lives are too chaotic, too much is on the line, and Leo can’t afford to take the time to heal 100% none of them can tbh. I know a lot of ppl hate how 12 handled his knee injury but I loved it Bc it’s obviously not better but he’s a stubborn idiot who chooses to push everything down and out. He is the healthiest turtle for sure. I’m pretty sure in later episodes his knee gives out a few times don’t quote me tho it’s been a few years aha

Raph: His broken shell! After watching Lone Rat and Cubs and seeing where it came from, I always wondered if Splinter looks at it with loads of regret. A physical sign of his short comings that one time they almost got caught by the Kraang. A warning and a constant reminder they’ll never be safe, that splinter wont always be able to protect his babies no matter how hard he fights. I also like to HC he becomes the most hovering and overprotective of Raph while he’s still recovering Bc that shell broke so easy. Honestly seeing screen shots of close ups of Raphs shell is awesome to see both shell and plastron are broken.

Donnie: UGHHH THIS DUDEEEE !!!!! Literally had the hardest time Bc he goes thru a lot also but it’s more emotional and mental dude is fuked up in the head fr. I asked several ppl for help Bc I didn’t want to do another lichen burn thing from Karai’s trap. In the end I played around w the suggestions to see what would look most appealing to me. The scars on arm are from Slash (such a good episode thank you for the suggestion 🙌) as his arm was injured and in a sling at the end of the episode. The head scar def a big creative liberty Bc he does get injured there a lot ahah. I was thinking of Fourtrap again which lead to thinking about the time that Leo blew him up accidentally during is emo phase XD

[reidsfilm]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 — SPENCER REID

divider credit: cafekitsune

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with plot (more plot tbh), soft !dom spencer, oral (fem receiving) praise, aftercare, fluff, spencer being a dorky nerd, a teeny tiny bit of angst. pet names; sweetheart, pretty girl, baby

SUMMARY: You've taken some time off work after nearly getting killed in the field. So you spend your time baking. A sweet and sugary moment between you and Spencer becomes much more...sinful.

WORD COUNT : 8,3k

Notes: this man is so smexy I wanna smooch all over his face. btw this is more fluff than smut. I got carried away with them being sweet. this is not proofread.

Three weeks had passed since you were discharged from the hospital, Spencer had been extremely worried, his brain had worked nonstop to come up with ways on how to better protect you. You'd never seen him so on edge, he was usually very relaxed, sometimes a bit awkward, but never anxious.

Spencer had practically forced you to stay home and rest, the wound still wasn't healed and you had to take care of it. He left a first aid kit right next to the bed and he made you promise you'd apply the ointment every few hours.

You had spent the weeks catching up with your favorite shows and reading some of the books that belonged to Spencer. And all in all just trying to take care of yourself, both physically and mentally.

As you continued to mix the batter of the cupcakes, the silence in the home became almost deafening. Being away from work for so long didn't help, you wanted to be out in the field again, fighting crime, working with Spencer and the team. But you also knew that you had to listen to Spencer and stay home a little while longer.

The sound of keys in the lock pulled you out of your thoughts, and you knew instantly that Spencer was coming home.

The front door opened and Spencer stepped trough the door, immediately he could smell the cupcakes that you were baking. Taking his shoes off, he placed them neatly on the shoe rack before he hung his jacket away.

Slowly he entered the living room, his gaze falling onto you in the kitchen. You didn't look up, your back turned to him as you continued to mix the batter. He could recognize that body language, you were upset.

"Hey," he spoke gently, walking into the kitchen, taking off his tie as he made his way towards you. He didn't touch you yet, knowing how you were feeling. Stopping right behind you, he leaned in slightly. He smelled good, he could smell the familiar scent of sugar, and he knew that you had stolen one of his shirts again.

He gently placed the tie on the counter next to you, quietly observing you as you worked. The silence between you was tense.

After a few moments, he gently touched your hips, his touch light, as if he was scared he'd hurt you, he slowly turned you around, his eyes meeting yours.

He observed you, noticing your slightly flushed cheeks and how you avoided his gaze. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" he muttered, one hand slowly moving up to your face, cupping your chin, his thumb stroking your skin.

He tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He could see the emotions flicker trough your eyes, the frustration, the insecurity, the restlessness.

Slowly, his other hand caressed your hip. "Talk to me, baby," he whispered, his voice soft and comforting.

He observed your expression carefully, noticing how your forehead was slightly creased, your jaw clenched. He knew that you were holding back, trying to keep everything bottled up inside of you. He was worried about you, he knew how hard it was for you to be home and away from the BAU, but he also knew that your health was more important.

His hand on your hip slowly moved up to your stomach, his large hand feeling over the healing scar.

Your heart clenched at the gentle contact of his hand on your stomach, the memory of the stabbing still fresh in your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Looking up at Spencer, you swallowed, trying to find the right words. "I'm just... I'm feeling frustrated. I want to be out there, helping the team, doing what I love," you finally admit, your voice laced with frustration.

Spencer nodded, a soft expression crossing his face. He understood how you were feeling. You were a determined, hard-working person, and being forced to stay home and rest was probably the last thing you wanted to do.

"I know you're frustrated, my love," he said, his voice still gentle, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your hip. "But you have to give yourself time to heal. You were badly hurt, we were all worried about you..."

He gently pulled you closer, his other hand moving to rest on the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

"I know it's hard, but you need to focus on your recovery right now. Healing takes time, but I promise it'll be worth it in the end." He spoke, his brown eyes locking onto yours, trying to reassure you.

His touch was warm and comforting, and you couldn't help but lean into his embrace. He was right, you knew deep down that you needed to focus on healing and recovering, but it was so hard to be patient when you wanted nothing more than to be back at the BAU.

"I just... I hate feeling weak," you admitted, your voice quiet and vulnerable. "I feel like I'm letting everyone down by being home like this."

"You're not weak," he said firmly, his grip on you tightening slightly. "You got hurt, yes, but that doesn't make you weak. You are strong, stronger than you know. And you're not letting anyone down by taking time to heal. If anything, you're helping us all by focusing on your health."

He gently threaded his fingers through your hair, his touch soft and soothing. "We all want you back at the BAU as soon as possible, but we also want you back healthy and whole. And that means taking the time to recover properly."

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You're a valuable member of the team, but your health and well-being are more important than anything else. So please, be patient and take care of yourself. For us, for me..."

His words were like a soothing balm to your frustrated heart. You knew he was right, and you knew that taking the time to heal was the right thing to do, even if it was hard.

Nodding slightly in response, you leaned your forehead against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "I'll do my best," you mumbled against his shirt, your voice slightly muffled. "It's just so hard to wait."

He held you close, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath your forehead. "I know it's hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "But I'll be here with you every step of the way. I'll help take care of you, make sure you're eating and resting properly."

His grip on you loosened slightly, and his hands began to glide over your back, rubbing soft circles. "And I know the team misses you too. But they understand that your health is our top priority right now."

You couldn't help but smile a little at his words, feeling a small sense of comfort. You knew that Spencer would be a constant presence in your recovery, and the thought of that helped to ease your frustration just a bit.

You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at him. "You're right," you said, your voice almost a whisper. "I just need to be more patient. And I know you'll be there to take care of me, even if I get annoyed with you."

He chuckled at that, his chest rumbling softly with the sound. "Oh, I'm sure you will get annoyed," he agreed, a small smile appearing on his lips. "But that's okay. I've learned to deal with your grumpiness over the years."

He gently pinched your side in a teasing gesture, causing you to let out a small giggle. "And just so you know, I plan on spoiling you rotten while you're recovering."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of him spoiling you. Spencer had a tendency to dote on you at the best of times, and you knew that while you were recovering from your injury, his spoiling tendencies would likely be heightened even more.

You raised an eyebrow, a small grin on your lips. "Oh really? So you're going to wait on me hand and foot, bring me food and drink whenever I want, and generally treat me like a princess?"

He smirked at your question, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. "Oh, most definitely. You're going to be pampered like a princess," he replied, his tone slightly dramatic. "I'll bring you tea, pastries, chocolates, anything and everything you desire. And as a bonus, I'll give you foot massages, back rubs, and anything else you might ask for."

You couldn't help but laugh a little at his display of melodramatic affection. It was so typically Spencer - overly grand and dramatic, yet utterly charming.

You gave him a playful swat on the arm. "You're ridiculous, you know that?" you said, shaking your head in amusement. "But I'll admit, the idea of being pampered with sweets and massages isn't too bad."

As the banter between the two of you continued, your mind drifted back to the cupcakes you were baking. You glanced down at the messy batter, which was still in the mixing bowl.

"Anyway," you said, pulling out of Spencer's arms to grab the bowl. "I should finish these. Can you grab the muffin tray for me, please?"

Spencer, ever the ever-helpful boyfriend, immediately did as you asked. He moved to a nearby cabinet and retrieved the muffin tray, bringing it over to the counter and setting it down next to the mixing bowl.

He watched as you began to scoop some of the batter into the tray, a small smile on his face. He loved watching you cook and bake. It was always a soothing and comforting sight for him, especially after a long day.

As you continued to fill each of the muffin cups, you could feel Spencer's gaze on you. It was subtle, but still present, his eyes on you. You knew he was observing your every move, admiring you quietly.

Despite your earlier frustration, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You couldn't help but feel comforted by his presence, by his silent support.

While you continued to work on the cupcakes, Spencer leaned against the countertop, watching you silently. He found himself admiring the way your fingers moved, the way your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you filled each of the cups with batter.

He knew that you were still frustrated about being home, about being away from the BAU, but he could also see that this little moment, this simple act of baking in the kitchen together, was a small comfort. It was a moment of normalcy among the chaos.

Soon enough, all the cups within the tray were filled with the cupcake batter. You placed the tray into the oven, setting the timer before turning back to Spencer.

He was still standing against the countertop, watching you intently. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was studying you, analyzing your every move.

You rolled your eyes in response. "Stop analyzing me, Spence," you teased, a small smirk on your lips. "I can almost hear the gears in your brain churning."

Spencer chuckled sheepishly at your comment, caught in the act. "Sorry, it's a habit," he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face. "I can't help it, it's what I do. Besides, you know I love studying you."

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. "Yes, I know you do," you replied, walking closer to him. You stopped when you were in front of him, placing your hands on his chest. "But maybe try toning down the analytical observations for a few minutes, okay? Just treat me like a normal person, not a case to be studied."

He reached up and placed his hands over yours, gently rubbing his thumbs over your skin.

"Alright, I'll try," he promised, his voice quieter now. "I'll try not to analyze you so much, just be... normal. Although, for the record, I think you're anything but normal."

You playfully swatted his chest, rolling your eyes again. "Gee, thanks," you said sarcastically, though a small smile tugged at your lips. "But seriously, just try and focus on the moment, on us. No analyzing, no deducing, no profiling, no solving puzzles in that genius brain of yours."

Spencer chuckled again, his eyes meeting yours. "Okay, okay, I get it," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "No more analyzing, no more profiling. I'll try to focus on just us, I promise."

He wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "And maybe, just maybe, we can talk about something other than work or injuries or any other potentially depressing topics."

You smiled, relieved that he was willing to take a break from his usual intellectual pursuits. You leaned in towards him, resting your head against his chest.

"That sounds nice," you said, closing your eyes for a moment. "How about we just... talk about anything? Whatever comes to mind, just nothing too serious or work-related."

Spencer hummed in agreement, his fingers beginning to run idly through your hair. "Alright, anything but serious topics," he repeated. "So... let's see..."

He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a light-hearted conversation starter. Suddenly, his expression brightened, an idea popping into his head.

"Hey, did you know that honey never spoils?"

Your eyebrows raised at his random fun fact. You tilted your head back to look up at him, a small smile on your face. "Honey never spoils, huh? That's something I didn't know."

You chuckled softly, shifting to rest your chin on his chest. "What other random trivia do you have hiding in that brain of yours, Spence?"

Spencer chuckled at your response, his fingers still playing with your hair. "Oh, I have a ton of random trivia stored up here," he replied, tapping his forehead lightly.

He thought for a moment, trying to remember another fun fact. "Oh, I got one. Did you know that there are more possible combinations in a game of chess than there are atoms in the observable universe?"

Your eyes widened at his next random fact. "More possible combinations in a game of chess than there are atoms in the observable universe?" you repeated, impressed.

You looked up at him, a bewildered expression on your face. "How do you even know that? And more importantly, why do you know that?"

Spencer shrugged, a grin on his face. "I read a lot of random things," he answered simply. "And my mind seems to just retain all this information for some reason. I guess it's just how my brain works."

He paused for a moment, his tone turning playful. "And as for why I know that particular fact... well, maybe it just stuck in my head because I like chess."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, a small smile on your lips. "Of course you like chess," you replied, pretending to be exasperated. "You're a total nerd."

Spencer feigned offense at your comment, a mock-offended expression on his face. "Hey, I'll have you know that liking chess does not make me a nerd," he protested. "It's a strategic game of skill and intellect. It's a perfectly respectable hobby.

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. "Oh, right. My mistake," you teased. "Liking chess definitely doesn't make you a nerd. And neither does knowing random trivia about the size of the universe or the properties of ancient artifacts. Nope, definitely not nerd-like behavior at all."

Spencer chuckled at your reply, conceding defeat. "Fine, fine, you have a point," he admitted, his tone slightly sheepish. "I guess I do have a few nerdy tendencies."

He continued to stroke your hair, a small smile on his face. "But in my defense, I think my knowledge and interests make me charming in my own unique way."

You couldn't help but smile at his confident statement. "Oh, charming, huh?" you replied, teasing him. "Is that what we're calling it now? Your endless stream of trivia and random facts is considered charming?"

Spencer feigned offense once again, his hand still playing with your hair. "Hey, I'm not just some nerd who spouts random facts all the time," he protested. "I have charm, intelligence, wit, and a sarcastic sense of humor. Those are all attractive qualities, you know."

You laughed softly, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. "Alright, alright, I admit it," you said, still gazing up at him. "You're charming, intelligent, witty, and you have a sarcastic sense of humor. Not to mention your adorable boyish good looks."

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly at your compliment, his smile broadening. "Adorable boyish good looks, huh?" he repeated, pretending to be unaffected by your words. "I'll have you know that I'm not just some cute, baby-faced boy. I'm a mature and respectable man."

You laughed again, not fooled by his attempt to play it cool. "Oh, really? A mature and respectable man, huh? Sounds very official, Dr. Reid."

You reached up to playfully pat his chest. "It's okay to admit that you're an adorable genius sometimes, you know. It won't make you any less mature or respectable."

Spencer rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face. "Fine, fine, I'll admit it," he said, feigning resignation. "I am an adorable genius. But don't let it go to my head, okay?"

You chuckled, knowing that it was already too late for that. "Don't worry, I won't let it go to your head," you teased, leaning up to brush a kiss against his jaw. "Well, not too much, at least."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the brief press of your lips, a small shiver running down his spine. He tilted his head down to meet your gaze, his eyes locking with yours. "You're enjoying this a little too much, y'know," he murmured, a mock pout on his face.

You chuckled, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. "Oh, am I?" you asked, feigning innocence. "Am I enjoying making fun of my brilliant but adorable boyfriend a bit too much?"

Spencer huffed playfully, although a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, you are," he replied. "You're really milking this, aren't you? I'm not sure if I should be amused or annoyed."

You chuckled again, enjoying the banter between the two of you. "Hmm, let me think," you said, pretending to consider it. "Maybe a bit of both?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his expression bordering on mock irritation. "Both, huh? I suppose that's fair," he conceded, his tone still playful. "I can be both amused and annoyed at my girlfriend's relentless teasing. Seems like a typical day in our relationship, really."

You laughed, your hand still pressed against his chest. "It's all part of the fun," you replied, a warm smile on your face. "You know you secretly love it when I tease you."

As your conversation continued, a sudden sound interrupted you both. The oven timer went off, signaling that the cupcakes were done. Well, that was fast.

Spencer's eyes flicked towards the oven, then back to yours. "Looks like the cupcakes are done," he noted, his fingers still idly playing with your hair.

You smiled up at him, realizing that your little distraction had made the baking time fly by. "Looks like it," you agreed, gently untangling yourself from his embrace to attend to the cupcakes.

"Stay there," you instructed, giving him a warning look. "You're not distracting me again with your adorableness, I need to take these out before they burn."

Spencer held up his hands in mock surrender, a playful pout on his lips. "Alright, alright, I won't distract you," he promised, though his eyes followed you as you moved over to the oven.

He watched as you opened the oven and carefully pulled out the tray of freshly baked cupcakes. His gaze lingered on you as you set them down to cool on the countertop.

You laughed, shaking your head at his dramatic response. "That's right," you replied. "Just sit there and keep your charm to yourself, Dr. Reid. Let me finish these without any further distractions."

Spencer pouted slightly, crossing his arms in mock disappointment. "Alright, alright," he said, leaning back against the counter. "I'll be the epitome of patience and restraint, I promise. No more flirting, no more distractions. I'll just... stare at you from over here and admire your baking skills."

You chuckled, appreciating his mock-disappointment. "You flatter me, Spence," you replied, setting the tray of cupcakes on the counter to cool. "But I need less staring and more silence if you don't mind. This frosting isn't going to do itself."

Spencer held up his hands in surrender, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Okay, okay, no more staring. I'll be the model of obedience and silence, I promise. I'll just... be over here, quietly admiring your frosting skills." He paused, his gaze drifting towards the cooling cupcakes. "And trying not to drool over the fact that I can't eat them just yet."

You laughed again, shaking your head at his eagerness. "Patience, Dr. Reid," you said, moving to collect the necessary supplies for the frosting. "You have to wait until they're cooled off properly before you can devour them like a hungry puppy."

As you busied yourself with the frosting, you stole glances at Spencer, amused by his barely contained excitement.

Spencer did his best to contain his excitement, his eyes following your every move as you set up the frosting supplies. His fingers drummed idly against the countertop, and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he tried to keep from drooling over the cupcakes.

"How long until they're cooled off, again?" he asked, his voice slightly strained. "Just... curious."

ou shot him an amused smile, continuing to focus on the task at hand. "A few more minutes," you replied, your tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully swirled the chocolate frosting onto one of the cupcakes. "And no touching, no trying to sneak a taste."

Spencer groaned, the sound more of a half-whine than anything else. "But they look so good," he protested, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the countertop to restrain himself. "Just a small taste? Please?"

You shook your head, your smile broadening. "No, no, no," you said firmly, playfully wagging your finger at him. "You have to wait, just like the rest of us mortals. No special treatment for hungry geniuses."

Spencer let out an exaggerated sigh, his shoulders slumping in mock dejection. "But... but I'm hungry," he whined, a pout forming on his face. "And I'm a genius. Surely that counts for something."

You chuckled at his pitiful display, your resolve starting to waver. "You're adorable when you pout," you admitted, placing the pastry bag down and turning to face him. "But you still have to wait, I'm afraid. No special privileges for genius boyfriends."

Spencer leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, and continued to pout like a child. "It's not fair," he protested, his puppy-dog eyes begging for a taste of the cupcakes. "Why can't I get a little taste, just a tiny one? I'll be good, I promise."

You laughed, your resolve weakening further. "You're really laying it on thick, aren't you?" you teased, unable to resist his pathetic puppy-dog expression. "You're not going to give up until you get a taste, are you?"

Spencer shook his head vigorously, his pout only deepening. "No, I'm not," he replied, clasping his hands together, as if in prayer. "Please, please, please, can I have just one taste? Just a tiny bite, that's all I ask."

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a stern expression, but failing miserably. "You're impossible," you said, shaking your head in mock annoyance. "But I can never seem to say no to your puppy-dog eyes."

Spencer's face immediately brightened, his pout melting into a hopeful smile. "Does that mean you'll let me have a taste?" he asked, his voice brimming with anticipation.

You sighed, knowing that you were completely whipped by his adorable pleading. "Alright, fine," you relented, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "You can have a taste. But just a little one, okay? Don't go eating half the batch before the rest of us get some."

Spencer's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. He practically bounded over to the counter, his eyes fixed on the cupcakes as if he'd never seen anything more delicious. "I promise, I'll only have a small taste," he declared, although, from the eager way he was eyeing the cupcakes, you had your doubts.

You chuckled, watching him with amusement as he hovered impatiently by the tray of now-cooled cupcakes. "Easy there, tiger," you said, playfully swatting his hand back. "I meant it when I said just a small taste. Don't get greedy."

Spencer sheepishly withdrew his hand, chagrined. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, his eyes still glued to the cupcakes. "I won't get greedy, I promise. Just a little taste, that's all I'm asking for."

You nodded, accepting his apology, and handed him a cupcake with a healthy dose of frosting. "Alright, here you go. One small taste, as promised."

Spencer carefully accepted the cupcake, cradling it in his hands like it was a precious artifact. He brought it up to his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as he took a small bite. A satisfied moan escaped his lips as the frosting hit his tongue. "Oh, god, that's good," he murmured, his eyes opening again as he savored the flavor. "So good."

You chuckled, watching as his expression went from eager to blissfully content in an instant. "You look like you're in ecstasy," you teased gently, leaning against the counter. "I take it you approve?"

Spencer nodded fervently, swallowing the bite he'd taken. "Approve is an understatement," he replied. "This is... this is a religious experience. It's like a fluffy, sugary cloud of joy exploding in my mouth."

You laughed again at his dramatic response, touched by the simple joy a single bite of your cupcakes had brought him. "Well, I'm glad it's living up to your high standards, Dr. Reid," you quipped, leaning in closer to steal a tiny bit of frosting from his cupcake.

Spencer barely seemed to notice the loss of frosting on his cupcake, still caught up in his food-induced euphoria. "It far exceeds my high standards," he mumbled, taking another bite and letting out another moan of pleasure. "I might have to marry you just for these cupcakes."

You chuckled, his declaration both charming and comical. "Oh, really? Is that the only reason you'd consider marrying me?" you teased, enjoying the way his guard was completely down in his blissful cupcake-induced state.

Spencer looked up from his cupcake, meeting your gaze with a goofy smile. "Well, no," he admitted, a bit of frosting smeared on his lip. "But these cupcakes definitely make the list of reasons why I should marry you."

You reached out, wiping the bit of frosting from his lip with your thumb. "Good to know your stomach is a major consideration in your decision-making process," you teased, a soft smile on your face.

Spencer chuckled, licking a stray bit of frosting off his lip. "Hey, it's an important factor in life decisions, you can't fault me for that," he replied, his eyes sparkling. "Good food is a non-negotiable in any relationship."

You rolled your eyes, amused by his priorities. "Alright, I'll give you that," you relented. "But what about love and commitment? Those still make your list of must-haves, right?"

Spencer's expression softened and he reached out to take your hand. "Of course they do," he said, lacing his fingers through yours. "Love, commitment, trust, all the important stuff. But good food is definitely a big bonus."

You smiled at the touch of his hand and pulled him closer to you. "I guess I can live with that," you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Especially since I plan on keeping you well-fed."

You quickly snatch a huge bite into the cupcake in Spencer's hand, your mouth getting frosting smeared all over.

"Hey!" he protested, a mix of shock and amusement in his eyes. "That's cheating!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his flabbergasted expression, your mouth still filled with cupcake goodness. "I couldn't resist," you mumbled, through your mouthful of frosting and cupcake base. "Besides, sharing is caring!"

Spencer tried to pout, but the corners of his mouth were twitching with suppressed laughter. "That was just greedy," he protested, but his tone was playful. "You could've at least asked first!"

You swallowed the bite of cupcake, a cheeky grin on your face. "But where's the fun in asking when I could just steal a bite?" you teased, sticking your tongue out at him, still covered in frosting.

Spencer rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. "You're wicked, you know that?" he said, reaching out to smear some of the frosting onto your nose.

You let out a squeal as the cold frosting touched your nose, giggling at his antics. "Hey, no fair!" you protested, trying to dodge his frosting-covered thumb. "You know I'm ticklish there!"

Spencer chuckled, relishing in the joyful moment. "Oh, I know," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face. "It's just so adorable when you squeak." He attempted to dot your nose with more frosting, laughing at your attempts to evade him.

You continued to laugh involuntarily as he kept trying to smear frosting on your nose, the feeling both ticklish and cold. "Spence, stop, stop!" you gasped, trying to swat his hand away. "You're going to make a mess!"

Spencer ignored your plea, laughing at your attempts to keep him from decorating your nose with frosting. "I thought you were the one who said sharing is caring," he teased, continuing to dab frosting onto your nose. "Now you're trying to deny me the opportunity to share with you!"

You finally managed to grab his wrist, stopping his frosting assault on your nose. Instead taking his thumb covered with frosting into your mouth.

Spencer's eyes widened as a shiver ran down his spine, and a flush of heat crept up his neck. He let out a soft gasp at the unexpected feeling.

Your tongue swirled around his thumb, licking off the frosting. You looked up at him through your lashes, a playful gleam in your eyes. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you, his face growing redder by the second.

He slowly pulled his thumb from your mouth, reluctantly breaking the contact. His pulse was racing, his throat dry. He swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his racing heart. "That... that was a bit of a dirty move," he managed to splutter out, sounding strained.

You smirked at his flustered state, enjoying the effect you had on him. "I just didn't want you to waste any more frosting," you replied, feigning innocence. "You were making quite a mess, after all."

Spencer's brain was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts, his mind hazy with the sensation of your tongue on his skin. He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

You bit back a laugh, the sight of him so flustered was highly amusing. "Maybe a little," you admitted, shrugging. "It's not every day I get to see the great Dr. Reid rendered speechless, after all."

Spencer huffed out a laugh but couldn't argue. "Okay, you got me there," he admitted his cheeks still a little flushed from your earlier actions. "But I feel I should warn you, I don't shy away from retaliating."

You grab a napkin, wipe at your mouth and nose, getting all the frosting off, before throwing it into the trash bin.

A thrill of excitement shot through you at his warning, your pulse quickening. "Oh, really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, does this retaliation involve?"

Spencer could definitely be dominating if need be. But he was a soft dom. He had tried being more rough and demanding with you during sex, but he didn't like it. Didn't like degrading you or being awful to you despite it only being for the act.

You watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a mischievous smile. "Let's just say," he said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. "I could think of a few ways to get payback that don't involve pastries."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sudden low timber of his voice and the look in his eyes. A mixture of anticipation and excitement fluttered in your stomach. "Is that a threat or a promise, Reid?" you asked, your voice slightly breathless.

Spencer stepped closer to you, the gap between you diminishing rapidly. "Both," he replied, his tone dropping even lower. "A threat of what I'll do to you, and a promise of enjoying every second of it."

You shivered again, your body responding to his proximity, the heat in his gaze. "Careful, Spence," you warned, your voice softer than you'd intended. "I might just call your bluff."

"That's all the invitation I need," he murmured, his body now flush against yours. He reached up, gently wrapping a hand around your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His brown eyes were nearly black with desire. "You have no idea the things I've been wanting to do to you, sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your body, your breathing growing ragged. "And here I'd thought you were a perfect gentleman," you managed to tease, your voice betraying your own desire. "Little did I know you have a deviant side too."

"Oh, you have no idea," he murmured again, his eyes roaming over your face. His finger ghosted over your neck, the skin there heating under his touch. "I'm not a saint, sweetheart. Not by a long shot." His lips twitched into a small, almost predatory smile. "And when it comes to you, I'm practically a sinner."

Your knees almost buckled at his words, your body reacting strongly to the mixture of his proximity and his voice. "Well, if that's the case," you said, your voice trembling, "then I suppose I'm damned too."

A low growl escaped Spencer's throat, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. "Damned? No, love," he murmured, before swooping down to claim your lips in a bruising kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, his kiss rough with pent-up desire.

Your gasp was swallowed by the fervor of his kiss, your arms immediately going around his neck to pull him closer. His tongue licked its way into your mouth, claiming every inch with an urgency that belied his earlier restraint. His hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as if he was afraid you would slip through his grasp if he didn't anchor you to him.

The kiss between you was hungry, a clash of lips and teeth and tongue, spurred on by the weeks of missed intimacy. Spencer pulled you closer, his fingers digging into your hips as if he couldn't bear to let go. When he finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting heavily, your cheeks flushed and your breaths mingling. "You drive me insane," he muttered against your lips, his voice gravelly. "You have no idea what you do to me, baby."

"The feeling is mutual," you panted, your breath stuttering in your chest from the kiss. You could feel his desire rolling off him in waves, his body pressed tightly against yours, the heat from his skin burning through the thin barrier of your clothing. You ran your fingers through the messy curls at the back of his head, tugging lightly. "I don't think I can wait any longer, Spence," you admitted, your voice low and hoarse. "I need you. Now."

Spencer shuddered at your words, a low moan escaping from his lips. The need in your voice, the desperate wanting, was like an aphrodisiac. He captured your mouth again in another hungry kiss, this one more urgent than the last. "I don't want to wait either," he muttered against your lips, his hands roaming over your body, pulling at your clothes, seeking skin. "I've missed you so much."

Your own hands began to wander, pulling at buttons and zippers, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "God, I've missed you too," you gasped, your fingers finally finding their way under his shirt, running over the bare skin of his stomach and chest. "Please, Spence. I need you. Need you now."

With a gentleness, Spencer lifted you and settled you down on the cool countertop of the kitchen. He kept most of his weight off of you, placing his hands on either side of you so he could hover over you. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm fine," you assured him, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I just need to feel you, Spence. All of you." You pulled his head down to yours, kissing him fiercely, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you," you repeated against his lips, your fingers running over the bare skin of his back, feeling the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Spencer groaned at the feel of your legs around him, the sound deep and primal. He slid his tongue into your mouth, the kiss turning heated and desperate. His body trembled with the need to be closer to you, to feel all of you against him. "I'm right here, sweetheart," he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming over your body. "I'm not going anywhere."

Your heart was pounding, your body arching into his touch as he caressed you. "I need you naked, Spence. I need to feel you against me. All of you," you panted, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Now. Please."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He quickly removed his shirt, then leaned down to pull yours off as well. Your skin was warm and smooth beneath his fingers, his own body thrumming with need. He pressed himself against you, his bare chest against your chest, the feeling of skin against skin sending a shiver through him. "God, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice guttural. "You feel so good."

"So do you," you gasped, your hands running over the bare planes of his chest and stomach. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body pressing you into the countertop, and it only served to fuel the desire burning within you. "Touch me, Spence," you begged, your voice ragged. "Please, I need your hands on me. Everywhere."

"I'm not going to make you wait any longer," he murmured, his hands beginning to wander over your skin. He touched every inch of you that he could reach, fingers skimming over your shoulders, your collarbone, your stomach. "You're beautiful," he repeated, his voice low. "So damn beautiful." His hands continued to roam, finding every sensitive spot on your body, setting your nerve endings on fire.

He placed his palm against your stomach, pushing you carefully to lay down flat against the countertop. Spencer's hands were shaking slightly, his eyes dark with desire as they roamed over your body. He gripped the waistband of your shorts, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your stomach. He began to pull them down, his movements gentle but insistent, your underwear following closely behind. "Lift your hips," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You did as he said, lifting your hips off the countertop, his hands pulling your shorts and underwear down your legs and discarding them on the floor. You were completely bare before him now, the cool air causing gooseflesh to rise on your skin. But Spencer's heated gaze made you feel anything but cold, his eyes trailing over every inch of you with a look of reverence.

He ran a hand up your inner thigh, the movement gentle yet possessive. "You're so beautiful, pretty girl," he said, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, his calloused skin sending shivers through you. "I've missed seeing you like this." He leaned down, his lips trailing over your stomach, his mouth moving lower...

The feel of his lips against your skin sent a rush of heat through you, your body already responding to his touch. You reached down, running your fingers through his curls, holding him close. "Spence," you gasped, your voice ragged with need. "Please. I need you."

Spencer's eyes met yours, his gaze burning. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers digging into your hips. "Just a minute. Let me taste you first."

Your breath hitched at his words, your body already arching towards him in anticipation. You watched as he lowered his head, his mouth moving to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The feeling of his lips and tongue against your skin was intoxicating, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He took his time, his kisses slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing patterns against your skin that had you writhing beneath him. He worshipped your body with his mouth, his lips moving ever closer to where you needed him most.

You were panting now, your hands clenching in his hair, your body arching off the countertop, seeking more of his touch. "Spence, please," you pleaded, your voice strained. "I can't take any more. I need you, now."

"Just a little more, sweetheart," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against you. "I want you to come like this. I want to taste you when you're falling apart for me."

Those words, that low, gravelly tone in his voice, almost sent you over the edge alone. But then he moved his mouth to where you needed it most, and a cry tore from your lips as he began to taste you, his tongue and lips moving against your folds.

He tugged you closer to the edge, making you squeak as he chuckled between your legs, draping them over his shoulders.

It was hard to form coherent thoughts, your mind filled with nothing but sensations — the feel of his mouth against you, the heat of his breath, the possessive grip of his hands on your hips. You arched off the countertop, your body taut as a bowstring, each flick of his tongue against your clit bringing you closer to the edge.

"God, sweetheart, you taste so good," he murmured against you, his voice rough. "So sweet. I could do this for hours and it would never be enough." He increased the pressure, his tongue moving with a purpose, driving you higher and higher.

It was too much, the pleasure building to a peak that you knew you couldn't hold back from. "Spence, I'm...I'm coming," you panted, your body trembling. "I'm coming, oh god."

''Come for me, come on my tongue, pretty girl,'' Spencer muttered against your clit.

He didn't let up, his mouth and tongue continuing their relentless assault until you were crying out his name, your orgasm ripping through you, your body arching up off the countertop. He held you there, his mouth against you, his hands steadying your hips until you were spent, your body boneless against the countertop.

You lay panting, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Spencer moved back up your body, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you. "You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, his voice thick with need. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss.

After a few moments, Spencer pulled back, his breathing still labored. He looked down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your body still feeling boneless and sated. "Yeah, I'm okay," you murmured. "That was...incredible." You reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing over his stubbled jaw.

Spencer leaned into your touch, his eyes closing at the feel of your fingers against his skin. "Good," he replied, his voice soft. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He glanced down at the countertop, realizing just now where he had taken you. "I wasn't too...enthusiastic, was I?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "No, you were perfect," you assured him. "But, you did just eat me out, right next to the cupcakes.''

Spencer's eyes widened as he looked down at the countertop again, realizing the exact same thing. "Oh. Right," he said, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "Well, I guess we did." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I got a little...carried away, I suppose."

You laughed again, amused by his reaction. "It's okay," you reassured him. "I don't think it's the first time we've...defiled the kitchen countertop.''

Spencer smiled at that, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No, you're right," he agreed. "We have been known to...christen multiple surfaces throughout the house."

"I don't think there's anywhere in this house that hasn't been defiled by us yet," you teased, a grin spreading across your face.

"Well, we have been living together for a while now," he reasoned, his hand running idly over your bare hip. "It's a wonder we haven't broken any of the furniture yet."

You let out a small chuckle, ''The day will come.''

Spencer laughed at that, ''Oh, I'm waiting for that day.''

After a moment of comfortable silence, Spencer spoke up again. "We should probably clean up," he murmured, his hand still running over your hip. "You're a little..sticky."

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, a smile playing on your lips. "And we should probably do something about all the...evidence that we just did what we did right in front of the cupcakes."

Spencer chuckled, his eyes meeting yours. "Yes, that too," he agreed. "But first, I need to take care of you." He shifted his weight, gently lifting you off of the countertop and into his arms.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing him to carry you out of the kitchen and down the hallway toward the bathroom. "Taking care of me, huh?" you teased, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

"Of course," he replied, his arms tightening around you. "I need to make sure you're comfortable and taken care of, especially after I essentially manhandled you on the kitchen countertop."

You laughed, enjoying the feeling of being held in his strong arms. "I think it's safe to say I didn't mind the manhandling," you assured him, kissing his neck.

He chuckled, his grip loosening as he set you down on the bathroom counter. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, his hands moving to your hips as he gazed down at you. "But still, I want to make sure you're okay. That I didn't get too...carried away."

You met his gaze, seeing the concern and tenderness in his eyes. "I'm okay," you reassured him, cupping his face in your hands. "And you didn't get too carried away. I enjoyed every moment of it, I promise. And I know you'd never hurt me."

A relieved smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he leaned into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Good," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want you to always feel safe and comfortable with me. I never want you to feel like I'm taking things too far or being too...forceful."

Spencer reached for a washcloth, turning on the sink and running it under warm water. He squeezed out the excess water, his eyes never leaving yours. "I know I can get...carried away sometimes," he admitted, his voice low. "Especially when I'm with you. But I never want you to feel overpowered or uncomfortable."

"I know," you assured him, reaching out to brush your fingertips against his cheek. "And I don't. You always make me feel safe and cared for, even in the most... intense moments."

He smiled, leaning into your touch. "Good," he murmured, taking the washcloth and gently wiping away your essence. His touch was tender and careful, his movements slow and methodical.

"You're always so gentle and caring," you observed, watching as he cleaned you with the cloth. "Even when you're being...dominant."

He chuckled, his eyes meeting yours. "I may be dominant, but that doesn't mean I don't care about your comfort and pleasure," he said, his tone low and steady. "I would never do anything to hurt or diminish you. I love you too much for that."

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you at his words. "I know you do," you murmured, reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. "And I love you too. I feel safe with you, no matter what we're doing. You always take care of me."

He set the washcloth aside, his eyes full of tenderness as he looked at you. "I will always take care of you," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "You're the most important thing to me, and I will always do everything in my power to make sure you're happy and safe."

You melted at his words, a wave of affection and love washing over you. "You're such a sap," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But I love it."

He chuckled, a mock offended look crossing his face. "Hey, I'll have you know that I am a very rational, logical FBI agent," he protested, his tone light. "I cannot possibly be labeled a sap."

"Oh, of course," you agreed, laughter in your voice. "Because FBI agents are known for being rational and logical, and definitely not sappy at all when it comes to their partners."

He tried to maintain his mock offense, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Alright, alright," he conceded, his eyes sparkling. "I may be a little sappy when it comes to you. But I blame you for making me this way."

''Mhm.. definitely my fault.''

Spencer's hands came up to cup your face, pulling you gently against him as he leaned down and captured your lips in a tender kiss. The kiss was slow and sweet, full of affection and tenderness. As the kiss deepened, his arms came around you, pulling you flush against his body.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lost yourself in the feel of his mouth against yours. As the kiss finally ended, he pulled back just far enough to look into your eyes. "I love you," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Your heart fluttered at his words, your entire being filled with a sense of love and security. "I love you too," you breathed, your fingers tracing over his stubbled jaw. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You're everything to me," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of his arms around you and the sound of his voice. "You're everything to me too," you replied, your fingers running through his hair. "I can't imagine my life without you." He lifted his head, smiling down at you. "Good thing you don't have to," he said, his tone light.

"You're stuck with me forever, sweetheart."

''I don't mind.''

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (7.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

The night that changed everything

Content Warning: Angst, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna is his own warning, Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state Sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). This is a +18 post so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader gets assaulted but it's not graphic, it goes more into her mental state. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you. Not proofread so sorry for any mistakes

W.C: 5.8K

A/N: Hi besties! Here we have the night they spent together. I hope you guys enjoy it!

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

8:25 p.m.

“Are you sure we can’t just order takeout?”

Sukunas eyes met yours.

“No. We’re staying to eat.”

Sukuna was used to your insults. The oh so clever ways you found to call him an idiot, a manwhore, a joke. He was used to the rage you put behind your words whenever he found a way to get under your skin. He even was used to the physical violence you enforced against him, a small scar over his left eyebrow served as an amusing reminder of the time you threw a vase at his face for “accidentally” dropping hot sauce all over you before you went out with your friends. The three stitches his wound required had been worth it as soon as he saw you coming out of your room with a different dress, the amount of exposed skin turned down a notch.

Sukuna was used to receive and be the source of your rage. It was fun. It was entertaining. It was comfortable.

What Sukuna wasn’t used to was the emptiness behind your eyes. Ever since that night the spark he liked ignite was gone, almost as it had been sucked out of you. The memory of that night replayed constantly on his mind.

“Get the fuck of me!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

A curling scream echoed in the alley behind the bar.

Sukunas heart rose to his throat. He couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t even remember where he had placed his keys or his gun, a kitchen knife in his hand as he had left his apartment in a rush. He hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes or a shirt, nothing more than just a pair of black sweatpants and desperation joined him as he ran through the dark streets of Tokyo.

Ryomen Sukuna was a man with many faults. Prone to anger. Sociopathic tendencies. Narcisism in its most pure form. He wasn’t a stranger to rage or violence but the wrath that rose in him the moment he heard your scream wasn’t of this world. Worlds could be burned just by the mere touch of the fire of his rage.

“Get off!”

The back door had been locked, probably by one bastard inside. His body smashed again and again against the door unsuccessfully, the metal bolt stopping him from wreaking havoc inside. You must’ve been close to the back door as he heard you calling for him.

“Sukuna!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

He heard the echo of a slap.

Tick

There had been few instances where Sukuna had blacked out because of anger. There had been one time when his little brother Jin had been pushed into a wall by a group of older kids, his head hitting the concrete.

That had been the first time Sukuna had ever been arrested.

The second time had happened more recently. He had been foolish, unprepared for betrayal. Jogo, a strange guy that he had dealt with in the past and a guy that claimed to be his ally, had tried to put a leash on him. He had dared to use his family and friends to control him, threatening everyone from Uraume to his little nephew Yuji. No one had found Jogo’s corpse yet.

This time had been different. Usually, he retained a couple of the memories of what had transpired, he remembered the screams of those kids, he remembered the look in Jogo’s eyes as life left his body. He remembered them begging, pleading him to stop.

This time he didn’t remember running to the front door, his body smashing against the glass of one of the shop windows making sharp little pieces of crystal collide against his skin, leaving trails of blood behind. He didn’t even remember feeling the same pieces of glass crunching under his bare feet, painfully digging in his skin.

He didn’t even remember your cries or screams, neither the silence his entrance had caused. The only thing he remembered was the image that welcomed him when he finally went through the kitchen doors. Three men were in the kitchen with you, pressing your body against the bar. Tears ran down your face as struggled against them, sheer panic plastered all over your face. He remembered how wide your eyes had been as one of the men pressed a blade against your neck, stopping Sukuna in his tracks.

He remembered your tears. He remembered your fear. He remembered your anger. He remembered the way you had grabbed a knife, stabbing them man that held you hostage in the side of his torso.

He didn’t wake up until your voice called his name once more, stopping him from his frenzy as his fist collided again and again against the man’s face. Your face was drenched covered in blood, purple and black spots already forming along your cheek. His knuckles were raw and broken, the man under him more likely than not dead. They didn’t hurt him as much as the pain the sight of your bruised face brought him.

“Sukuna…” your voice died on your lips.

His hands reached out to you and for the first time you had recoiled before he could even touch you.

He was going to kill them, all of them.

“Are you ready to order?” A feminine voice brought him out of his thoughts. A pretty waitress stood in front of them, her smile directed towards him.

“Two miso soups” He grunted.

Usually, his unfriendly demeanor was enough for people to leave him alone. Unfortunately, the waitress had been too focused on his physique to be deterred by his personality.

“Coming right up.” She said as she finished writing on her notebook. She pushed her short black hair behind her ears, a blush spreading through her face. “I like your tattoos”

“Mmm”

His eyes fell on his cellphone, hoping she would get the message.

She didn’t.

“I have a couple of them myself. I have two on my arm and one… well I couldn’t show you where the other one is.”

Any other day Sukuna would’ve taken the bait, even better with you watching. But when the corner of his eye caught you staring through the window, any sort of satisfaction left his body.

You weren’t even looking at him.

“Mmm”

He didn’t spare her a glance.

The waitress opened her mouth one last time, hoping that to at least get his attention.

“It’s nice of you to take your sister out to eat. Not a lot of brothers are this nice.”

Tick.

“What the fuck makes you think she’s my sister?”

The waitress had finally caught his indifference… a little too late.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I was just– “

“I know what the fuck you’re trying to do.” Sukuna cut her off, his eyes burning through the girls skull. “I don’t do desperate sluts, especially not the ones that whore themselves out when I already have company.”

“I-I’m sorry, I– “

“I don’t give a fuck about your apologies.” Sukunas eyes burned with fire, his fist hitting the table gathering everyone’s attention. “What makes you think I, let alone anyone in this restaurant with functioning eyes and a sense of smell, would even touch you? You think an ugly, desperate, fish smelling skank like you can–”

Your hand reached to his “Enough.”

A battle of stares ensued. Carmin eyes stared at yours, the anger they carried could’ve made even the strongest man shiver under them. Not you. Never you. Not even when yours where void of any emotion.

As always, you won.

“Go. Ask another waitress to bring our food.” You told the girl, eyes still focused on him. “I already have enough fish in my soup.”

Sukuna chuckled.

A few moments later two steaming bowls of miso were dropped off at your table by a male waiter.

“I don’t like miso soup.” You broke the silence.

“Lie. You don’t like porridge.”

“How do you even know that?”

For a second, Sukunas heart began racing, an annoying habit it had acquired for the past few months.

“I know everything you hate just in case I have to use it.”

“Asshole.”

He brought the white bowl to his lips, the savory taste of the broth lingering on his mouth. He had never considered himself well-mannered so it wasn’t a surprise when mere seconds later, the bowl was emptied from any liquid.

Yours, on the other hand, remained intact. Your eyes had gone back to the window, thoughts lost so far Sukuna couldn’t decipher them. The dark circles below them were poorly concealed, the darker tone crashing against whatever makeup product you were using to cover them.

“Brat.”

You didn’t turn to him, but he knew you were listening.

“Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

Tick

Sukunas laugh filled the air, his head pulled back as he rubbed his eyes. Your head finally snapped to his direction, eyebrows furrowing with frustration the longer his laugh continued.

Thirty seconds was all it took for your patience to run out.

“What’s so funny?”

He took a deep breath, his hand holding his stomach as the pain from laughing too much took over his abdomen.

“You.”

You scoffed “What about me?”

Sukunas smile widened with the cockiness that’s characterized him.

“I never took you for a weakling.”

Your jaw hardened, teeth grinding so hard he could almost hear your enamel disintegrating itself away.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Fire.

Scalding, raging fire. Your eyes opened wide, burning everything on their path.

Sukunas skin filled with goosebumps.

“You’re going to let a couple of fat, weak, disgusting pigs beat you?”

Your breathing hitched before your hands turned into fists.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He leaned in.

“All I see is someone who’s letting herself be controlled. Look at yourself.” His eyes traveled along your face and your clothes, earning yourself an eye roll. “You’re starving yourself away, not sleeping, pretending you're fine as if nothing happened or at least trying to. They couldn’t hurt your body but you’re letting them kill away your mind?”

His words weakened your anger, your eyes watering a second later. Sukunas chest ached uncomfortably, as his mind told him to turn away from the source of his pain. He hated it. He wanted it gone. Whatever strange concoction of feelings you brought was foreign to him, but it was powerful enough to make him lose focus.

“You want to prove me wrong?”

He didn’t give you time to answer.

“Eat. Now.”

10:17 p.m.

“What are we doing here?”

Sukunas foot stepped on the rear brake making the motorcycle coming to a stop. He parked a couple of streets away, making you both walk until you reached a small white house in the outskirts of Tokyo.

You both walked to the white mid-size sedan parked outsides, making your way to the driver’s door. Your hands stopped him when he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his elbow

“What the fuck Sukuna? You’re going to get us arrested.”

“Not if you shut the fuck up.” He whispered, shaking your hand off. “You don’t remember this car, do you?”

Your eyes scanned the vehicle, looking through the window for any clues. Once your eyes landed on the driver seat where a chocolate axe body spray laid, they lit up with recognition and disgust.

“Daichi? My ex-manager?”

He tied one last knot.

“Remember the scrap yard Uraume and I used to hang out around when we were kids?”

“Yeah?”

He threw his keys at you, barely giving you time to catch them.

“Take my bike and meet me there.”

You stood there frozen as you processed what he said but Sukuna didn’t have time to wait for your brain to finally start working.

“Go! Now!”

His elbow crashed against the crystal, shattering everything on its path. The alarm went off, finally snapping you out of it. It didn’t take him longer than 3 minutes to silence the alarm and have the vehicle up and running. After years of experience taking bigger and better vehicles, a 2005 dodge wasn’t going to be a problem, it had almost been boring. You were long gone once the porch lights turned on, the echo of his bike speeding away filling the streets instead.

A short man with dark hair and an overhanging stomach came out screaming, a broomstick in his hands. Sukuna’s right foot dug in the gas pedal leaving the smell of burnt tire’s behind as his middle finger stuck out of the window.

10:41 p.m.

 The rubble pathway to the boneyard made Sukuna remember why he preferred his bike over a constricted, heavy, metal box. Every rock sent the stability of the vehicle out the window making it seem as he was using the car to swim against the current, the two sixpacks of beer clashing against each other in the back.

Five minutes later he finally found you, his bike resting next to a torn down SUV as you paced back and forth. He didn’t had time to get both feet out of the car before you came to face him.

“What the fuck?” You yelled; your breathing heavy as your hands shook. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Perfect, he thought to himself.

“Out of the way, slut.”

You scoffed, not before closing the door on him. The door collided against his hand and the brewing anger only you could pull out of him came to surface. His first instinct was to grab you by the throat, wishing nothing more than throwing you to the ground. Instead, he smashed the door closed as the back of his mind pleaded him not to upset you.

Upset you.

Since when did he care?

Throughout the years he had never cared for your emotions other than your anger. Your anger has always been the prime source of his entertainment, the things he had said, the things he had done, all for his own sake. He had pulled tears from your eyes, he had hurt you emotionally and sometimes physically just to pull a good laugh from himself.

He didn’t care about you.

But why did your tears haunt his dreams ever since that night?

“You’re fucking insane! We could get arrested!”

He scoffed, opening the passenger door. “Calm your tits, brat. No one is getting arrested.”

“You fucking calm your tits when I tear your head off for sending me to prison.” You turned away from him.

He took out the packs of beer along with a metal bat he had paid the liquor store owner for. He cracked open a can, the shaking of the car taking effect in the drink making it explode as soon as he opened it.

Sukuna welcomed the bitter taste of the liquor, anything that could distract him from the nuisance your presence brought him.

 “Here.” He placed a metal bat in your hands.

“What am I supposed to with this?”

“Hit the car.” Sukuna said as if it was obvious.

“What?” You looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “No, what the hell?”

“Hit the fucking car.”

You pushed the bat back to his chest, forcing him to hold it. “I’m not hitting the fucking car, idiot.”

“Alright, if you’re not hitting the car then you have to admit you’re not ok.”

“What?”

Your tone hardened and he could almost see the walls building themselves back up.

“You heard me.” Sukuna repeated, opening a new can as he crushed the first one. “Hit the car or tell the truth.”

“I’m not doing shit.” You turned to his bike, your hands digging in your pockets.

Sukuna pulled you back by the arm, his hand snatching his keys out of your fingers.

“You’re not going anywhere until you either beat the shit out of this car or you fucking tell the truth.”

You tried to pull yourself free, but his grip was made from steel.

“Let me go”

“Make me.” 

His eyes wondered down your face, staying on your lips for only a quarter of a second. You moved yourself closer to him and for a moment Sukuna thought you might kiss him. His body unconsciously filled with anticipation, only to have you snatch the bat out of his hands.

Hard, heavy footsteps carried you away until you reached the front of the car. You got into position, your hands gripping the handle so tightly he thought you might hurt yourself. You looked back at him one last time, only turning once he gave you a small nod.

Smash.

“Again.” He barked. Sukuna had expected you to fight back but the sound of the metal colliding against metal surprised him.

Smash.

“Again.”

Smash

“Again.”

Smash

“Fuck your job.” You yelled, your voice cracking in the last word.

Smash

“Fuck your pathetic life.”

Smash

“Fuck you, you mother fucking abortion looking like bastard!”

Smash

“Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Fuck you!”

Your angry screams had turned into wails, each one more painful than the other. The more you hit the car the faster your façade fell, showing him every dark thought you had forcefully hidden away from everyone. His heart began pounding against his chest, his own heartbeat deafening him from your suffering.

Something unexpected happened to Sukuna that night.

Physical touch for him mostly meant sex, or at least with the intention to end in sex. Sukuna was rough edges and violence; kindness and tenderness were never part of vocabulary and he preferred it that way. Why would he spend time in something he never saw a useful purpose for? Love meant weakness, and weakness was dangerous for men like him.

If love was useless to Sukuna, then why did he reach out for you? Why did he pulled the bat away, throwing it to the side as his arms wrapped around you? Why did he pushed your face to his chest, hoping his shirt would wipe your tears away so he wouldn’t have to see them?

“Stop it!” You fought back. “Let me go. Let me fucking go!”

He didn’t budge.

Eventually you wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him like he was your lifesaver. He could tell you were still struggling, fighting with everything in you to keep the tears inside. Even after finally breaking apart you still tried to find strength to not collapse.

He liked that about you, even if he would never admit it. Not even to himself.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You asked as you pulled back from his embrace, but his arms wouldn’t release you. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna was left speechless for the first time in his life.

What was he even trying to get out of this? Didn’t he hate you? With everything that had happened between you, why did he go out of his way to help you and expected nothing in return?

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. Red, slightly swollen eyes looked back at him and the pain in his chest intensified. “All I know is I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He would destroy worlds to erase the sadness behind your eyes.

11:03 p.m.

“Isn’t it weird we’ve known each other for almost a decade, and this is the first time we’ve actually hung out? Outside of sex of course.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He said as he drank the last sip of the last beer.

A mountain of smashed cans rested beside him as you both laid down in the hood of the now broken up car with the word “Rapist” scratched up in all sides. Both your jackets laid below you to protect you from the coldness of the metal as you looked at the dark sky.

“Why do you think that is?”

 He looked at you, laying on your back and staring at the stars, your eyes finally lost in something else other than the darkness in your head. He could almost see the real you again.

“Because you’re a pain in the ass.”

You laughed.

“Yeah well, you’re not a spring breeze yourself.” You countered asclosed your eyes, a smile adorning your face.

Sukunas hand itched with the need to touch you, almost as if it had a mind of his own. This wouldn’t have bothered him as much if what he wanted to touch were your breasts or reach for that sweet spot between your legs, he would even be ok if it was your thighs, the soft sensitive skin along them always calling for him.

Instead, he wanted to reach for your face, trace along the path of your tears all the way down to your lips. He wanted to reach out for your hand, figure out if entwining his fingers with yours would be as great as he pictured in his imagination.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” You said with a smirk.

He was glad your eyes were still closed, or you would’ve seen the slight blush crossing his face.

“As if, brat. I would go blind if I looked at you for too long.”

You scoffed. “Then why haven’t you? I see you looking at me all the time.”

His brain froze, his heart missing a heartbeat.

“Keep it up and I might think you actually like me, pretty boy.”

“I haven’t reached rock bottom yet. Maybe then you might have a chance.”

“Asshole.” You mumbled.

Sukuna laid back down on the car as he forced his heart to stop beating so fast. He wasn’t wrong when he said you were a pain in the ass, especially now that he couldn’t even control his body.

“I know that you burned down the store I used to work in.”

He didn’t answer, unsure on why you were bringing it up.

“Why did you do it?”

Another thing he wasn’t sure of. Somehow, when it came to you, he wasn’t sure of a lot of things.

He couldn’t tell you that, though.

“As much as I hate you, you’re Uraume’s sister.” He took a deep breath, hoping his lie would be believable enough. “They’re like family to me.”

“So, I’m like family to you too?”

“No.” He answered too fast for his liking. “You’re more like a pebble in my shoe that for some reason Uraume loves.”

“Is that the only reason why you did it?” You kept questioning to his dismay.

Did you know? There was no way you could know, right?

“Why else would I do it? You’re my friends annoying little sister and a slut I’ve fucked a couple of times; there’s nothing more to it.”

His words seemed to end the discussion, but he had his own questions brewing.

“Are you planning on telling Uraume?”

He felt your body tense up.

“No. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“I–“ you cut yourself off, searching for the right words. “I don’t want them in all of this. Want it or not, you killed a guy, Sukuna. I might have too, we don’t know.”

“I handled it.” He interjected but that wasn’t enough for you.

“It doesn’t matter.” You turned to your side, facing him. “If I tell Uraume two things could happen and both of them end with them going to prison.”

“You don’t give them enough credit if you think Uraume would get caught.”

“It’s not about that, Sukuna. If I can stop them from getting in more trouble than they already are, I’ll do it.”

Even if it didn’t make sense to him, he could understand the thought process behind it. He didn’t know how aware you were of the “business” him and Uraume dealt with, or how deep in the neck they were. But he understood your desire to protect them even if they had committed far worse crimes.

And with that a thought popped in his head.

“You not being able to sleep… is it because I killed that guy in front of you?”

“No. Well– not in the way you think.”

He gave you a look, telling you to continue.

“When you killed that guy… I didn’t feel sad or scared.” You took a deep breath. “I-I felt relieved, so fucking relieved. It was almost like I enjoyed it, which I guess it makes sense with all things considered but–”

You hesitated, and Sukuna could sense the silent battle you were having over whether to speak or not.

"I was angry too. I was angry I didn’t kill him myself. I was angry I couldn’t see his eyes drain of life and… I was angry I wouldn’t be the last thing he saw when he died.”

Sukuna could sense the shame in your words, the guilt of your feelings filling you again. He wanted to reach out to you, engulf you in a tight embrace again but he stopped himself from it.

“You… you think that makes me a monster?” You asked.

He wiped away a lonely tear that fell from your left eye.

“I know monsters and you’re not one of them. You’re just human.”

 “Yeah, a fucked up one.”

“Not as fucked up as me, right?” He shrugged.

You chuckled at his words. “Yeah, that bit is true.”

In a surprising move from your part, your fingers found his hand as you entwined them with his. Your warmth invading Sukunas senses as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Thanks.” You whispered. “For all of this.”

He could only bring himself to say one word.

“Sure.”

12:38 a.m.

“How are we going to get in? I don’t even have the right clothes.”

“Shut it. I know a way.”

After asking to go somewhere different, Sukuna wanted to know what you had in mind. When you said dancing, it was obvious it wasn’t what he had hoped for. He had hoped your idea of somewhere different would be his apartment, particularly his bed but he wasn’t too picky with the surface.

Instead he found himself guiding you through an alley behind The Underworld, a popular night club in the middle of Tokyo. After he found the back door he looked on windows near the backroom, finding one of them unlatched. He pulled it open, moving to the side as he waited for you to jump in.

“You’re not really serious, are you?” You asked incredulously.

“You in or not?”

You looked through the alley, searching for any unwanted spectator. After finding nothing, you rolled your eyes before walking to him “Fine, whatever.”

Both of you came out of the backroom, Sukuna guiding you both to the employees only resting area with a door that guided to the bar area. Darkness barely lit up by strobe lights and a couple of ambiance light welcomed you as soon as you crossed the door. The bass music hit your bodies through the air, each low down filtering through your bones.

You were clearly underdressed, both of you wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, his only possible salvation the black leather jacket he carried most places. Theres was nothing to worry though, the darkness in the club were enough to cover you from everyone else’s eyes.

Passing next to the bar, Sukuna managed to swipe a bottle some poor bartender had left unattended, rushing you to the other side of the establishment. You took charge once you were at a safe distance, guiding him to the middle of the dance floor. Red, purple and blue lights hit you in the face and he thought he had never seen anyone as majestic.

Every thought he had of you confused him, some of them even sending him to a panic, but he also knew he enjoyed them. He enjoyed the fire you once again carried inside you, the way your eyebrows furrowed whenever he would spout hateful names towards you, or the way your eyes crinkle when he had pissed you off too much.

He liked the way your lips moaned his name when he fucked you silly.

You had started dancing, arms in the air as you swayed your hips. Of course, you also danced like a slut, hypnotizing him as you enjoyed the music. He took a sip of the vodka bottle he carried, his carnal instincts taking over finally. It had been almost too long since the last time he had felt you around his cock and now that you were here, he wanted nothing more than taking you to the bathroom and make you scream his name.

He stalked you, like a predator waiting to catch his prey, anticipation overfilling him the longer you kept your eyes closed. You lifted your arms a little too high, revealing to him the black laced thong you were wearing.

He lost control.

Sukuna spun you around, grabbing your hips between his hands. You had gasped when he had grabbed you, but once you recognized him you went back to your dancing, hips now moving along with his touch. Your ass pressed against his crotch, effectively springing up his cock as soon as he felt your warmth. His hands wondered up your body, squeezing your tits on the way up to your neck, pushing you more against him.

He didn’t care if everyone could see you and for the way you looked at him, neither did you. Somehow his brain had been taken over by his basic instincts, his body craving more and more like a thirsty animal. Your eyes traveled down to his lips as you leaned in close enough for him to almost taste you.

Finally, after so long.

However, you pulled away, a sultry smirk on your lips.

“Can you go get a glass with ice? I like my vodka cold.”

He was going to fucking kill you. He tried grabbing you but you scaped his touch, your smile getting wider.

“Nuh huh, ice first.”

Fucking bitch.

Sukuna scoffed as he turned away, trying to find a table where to swipe the glass with ice so he could go back and put you in your place. With the corner of his eye he could see you looking at him, still dancing in the middle of the floor. You were riling him up, the playful look in your eyes telling him you wanted him too. Fine, he would play your game if you accepted the consequences.

After what it seemed like the hundredth table, he finally got the stupid glass filled with ice. He turned around, ready to make his way up to you but the sight of you pushing a guy away stopped him in his tracks.

Tick

He threw the bottle along with the cup, the people surrounding him complaining as they got splashed. Sukuna made his way to you, pushing people to both side to get them out of the way. Your jaw was tightened as you backed away from the guy.

The unknown man didn’t see it coming, two hands grabbing him by the shirt and smashing him against the wall, Sukunas body and strength caging him in a dangerous position.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You yelled in the guys face.

“I–I’m sorry, I–“ The man tried to explain but his words were met with another shove, leaving his lungs without air.

Sukuna pulled out a knife he kept with himself at all times, the spade blade touching the guys neck.

“I’m going to fucking kill you for touching her.”

Whatever pathetic words he was about to plead with died in his throat as you called for Sukuna’s attention.

“Stop it.” You pulled on his shoulder.

Sukuna pressed the guys neck more, surely blocking his airways. He would’ve kept going if it wasn’t for the second pull you gave him, this time strong enough to move him. He released the man, the later collapsing to the floor.

“Let’s go.” He said as pulled you by your hand. You were about to say something when a couple of tall, well built men stopped you in your tracks. They had to be the bouncers.

“You’re going to have to go with me, kids.”

Sukuna laughed. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat you up in front of your girlfriend.”

He gave you a look with the corner of his eye, your eyes wide and open. At first he thought you were scared of the confrontation, he found that thought deeply offensive, as if he couldn’t take a couple of old, wasted, meatheads. But once he saw the way your lips commissure raised, he recognized the look you gave him.

You were having fun.

“Run!”

Your fingers laced with his as you pulled him forward.

Sukuna had to give it to you, when it came to running no one could beat you. Ever since you were kids it had always been a bitch to play with you. Somehow even at eight years old you had figured out how to turn into Usain Bolt, your little legs driving you too far for him to catch you.

You swerved through the sea of people, pushing some of them on your way as you tried to put as many obstacles between the men and you. Your escape was cut short by a big man jumping on your way, trying to catch you in his arms. Sukunas heart raced as he saw you almost getting caught so he smashed himself against the man, pushing both of them to the floor. You looked in shock as the chairs flew out of the way, hitting many people on their path.

“Go!” He yelled at you before standing up, pulling you with him.

You ran past the doors, jumping over the crowd control rope so you both run down the street towards Sukunas bike. Four men were now on your persuit, their footsteps heavy and slow compared to yours.

“Get back here, fuckers!” One of them yelled once you were too far away to be caught.

Both of you hopped on his bike, leaving tire smoke and stains behind as he raced through the empty streets in Tokyo.

“I can’t believe we did that!” You cheered as you held onto him.

“I forgot you turn into Usain Bolt when you run.”

You chuckled. “Shut up.”

Sukuna felt the weight of your head on his back as your arms grew tights around him. You took a deep breath, almost as if you were inhaling his scent, before liberating the air, your body relaxing against his.

“I think I’m ready to go home.”

His heart dropped down, he assumed because he could not get laid tonight, having played along you game for nothing. That must be why, he told himself. Except the back of his brain already craved your presence even if you were still next to him.

“Alright.” Was his only response.

It didn’t matter anyways, he would get his chance another day.

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[tteokdoroki]

the consequences of constellations izuku midoriya ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’re in love with your best friend and you’re sleeping with him too… so you count the constellation-like freckles on his back to cope with the idea that he doesn’t love you in the same way. ( 2K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, suggestive, smut, angst. characters aged up to 20s, friends with benefits, unrequited love, mutual pining sorta, experimental piece, i wanted to play around with metaphors to do with space, fem!reader, pro hero!deku.

how do you always end up back here?

the answer remains a mystery to you, really. out of all the things that human-kind are capable of, their powers and prettiness, their strength and their stamina — even their knowledge used to invent the space shuttle that traverses the wonders of the uncharted starry abyss…and you still end up here. 

you always end up in the same place — amongst the crumpled linen of pro hero deku’s one bedroom condo. it’s high up enough that it just touches the skyline, it dips past the surface of powder blue skies into the inky black canvas of night to which you find yourself falling victim to sinful touches and muted whispers of pleasure.

it’s the same every time; izuku calls and you answer without hesitation — come rain or shine. you’ll often tumble past the threshold of his apartment with regret and pain pushed to the back of your mind because you’d much rather kiss him and taste the cigarette ash on his tongue in the moment than think logically or have some sense about you. in your world, there’s no better feeling in the world than deku’s masterful, scarred hands spanning out against the base of hour spine or napping out your curves. nothing beats the euphoric high you get from his hips smacking against yours almost in tune with the beat of his heart. 

he pulls you into his orbit. he places himself at the centre of your universe. he fills you up both physically and mentally to the point where every inch of your body and every corner of your heart is overcome with a scorching need for izuku midoriya, like you’ve been engulfed by the sun, it tingles at the tips of your toes and fingers to the top of your head. when he moans your name after every orgasm you share together desire lights up within you like a solar flare — you feel special, desired and maybe even loved.

but this is just sex.

it’s always been just sex, especially to izuku.

there’s a risk in allowing yourself to believe it could ever be anything more, and yet, you can’t stop yourself from indulging in this sweet fantasy every time you end up tangled in the pro hero’s expensive sheets. how could you not when he fucks you like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved. 

playing pretend in your head while he sends shooting stars of ecstasy across your line of sight.

shame and regret always hits you like a truck right after — forcing you to deal with the derailing reality that is loving someone who doesn’t want you back and sleeping with them just to get close enough to that feeling of adoration. it’s bad in the morning, but worse at night after deku has cleaned you up with a tender touch and tucked you in for some sleep — rolled onto his side as his own breathing evens out and his consciousness floats away into the depths of deep, empty space. 

you think that he’s still sleeping when the constellations of honey brown freckles on his back begin to blur and your vision swims from unshed tears and you curl in on yourself. claw marks and crescent moons from your perfectly trimmed nails have left their mark on his golden skin, etched between sun-spotted freckles and a collection of faded battle scars — if you look close enough, one might mistake the surface level wounds you’ve left on deku’s body as an attempt at scratching through the space-time continuum to be closer to him. 

izuku stays awake, hoping that you’ll find the strength to get up and leave him so that he doesn’t  have to turn around and pretend to love you again. though, there’s a selfish wish rooted in the back of his mind, longing for you to stay. for you to play make believe for a little longer, to wish upon the North Star and beg for some kind of grace from god — hoping that izuku midoriya will love you some way, somehow. 

he’ll fake it for as long as he can, if it means being the only person to touch you and hold you and kiss you. he’ll pretend to rip every star in the sky for you and breathe false affection past your lips with every kiss if it means he can replace the pain in your lungs and help you breathe a little easier. because in his own twisted way, izuku cares about your feelings…at least to some degree. he’d rather pretend than end things right here, right now. maybe that’s his saviour complex and his instinctual, dire need to save people who doesn’t need saving. 

maybe it’s because this little arrangement has gone on for far too long, to the point where he can’t tell what hurts you or what doesn’t.

when the bulking pro hero shifts beneath the linen sheets, you hand bolts out to grab him — and, as if you’re protecting the embers of a dying flame, a fading star between your fingers, you pull him back into your chest. grasping onto him, holding out for something. you’re afraid that if you let go, izuku will disappear into space’s abyss and you might never get to have him like this again. another selfish wish. this time from you, not from him. 

don’t go. you want to tell him. don’t fizzle away. you want to say. you know that it���s wrong to want to keep someone you can’t, who won’t love you, around. it’s testament to how much respect you have for yourself, how much self worth you have. which, from the looks of it, is little to none. you feel like you might die without izuku, even if what you have of him is so little. a plant with a crane its neck reaching for even the tiniest bit of sunlight to grow… that’s how you feel about izuku’s…affections for you. even if it’s not real love, you still yearn for it and blossom underneath it. even if you should let him go because you love him, you don’t want to.

out of fear that he may not come back. 

when izuku says your name, whispers it into the black hole of the night — he treats it as if it’s made of gold. the syllables heavy on his tongue, weighing it down with a force of gravity. “are you awake?” he adds, despite feeling the shake of your limbs behind him from crying. he speaks slow and tender, the gravel of the early morning still in his voice. 

your breath hitches warmly against his bare back like a mist over his sun spotted freckles. “no.” a dishonest answer that would have given you away instantly had the evergreen haired hero not already been up and listening to you cry. you sound strained, stuffy and he knows your pretty eyes are probably a putrid red and that there’s snot stains left in tracks on his satin sheets. and maybe, if he loved you like he should — this wouldn’t have happened, he wouldn’t feel so much guilt to the point where he feels sick to his stomach.

loving you is dangerous territory, like a trip to the uncharted parts of deep dark space. the concept alone is terrifying enough to send icy blood through izuku midoriya’s veins where he’s usually so hopeful and fearless. if he lets himself, for even a second, fall in love with you — there would be a chance your life would change for the worse, a chance that you wouldn’t be able to bare the long nights without him or the weeks where he’s gone. you hardly see deku now, how would you cope when he’s finally yours but too far away from you to touch. you could be in the same bed and he would still be light years away, galaxies ahead of your own train of thought because he is constantly thinking of who and how to save next.

not to mention the very fact that his existence is a threat to your livelihood, with villains lurking around every corner just waiting for a chance to make the number one weak…

…loving izuku midoriya would be like standing still in the middle of a hurricane on jupiter. 

no one would be able to withstand the largest storm in the universe, not even you, and the strength you find in loving izuku. 

still, you’re a liar and izuku knows it. even if he’s not supposed to. the bed creaks beneath his weight as he rolls over to face you, freckled cheek sinking into the cotton hills on his pillows as he finally sets his emerald sights on you. “you must be dreaming then,” he laughs fondly through his nose when he speaks, bringing a thumb up from underneath the duvet to swipe away your drying tears. the ones you tried so desperately to hide. water doesn’t fall in out space, it drifts endlessly and becomes a liquid with no form. izuku wishes you weren’t crying over him. 

shrugging, you lean into the man’s touch, letting deku cup your cheeks and trace your smile lines that don’t seem so smiley anymore. the early morning moonlight ( the sun has yet to rise ), illuminates the stars in his mossy eyes that practically plead for you to let go, and your heart lurches painfully. he feels sorry for you. “i hope so.” comes your tired whisper. embarrassed and heartbroken, you look away and tuck your face under the duvet — chin brushing your naked shoulders, skin bare and bitten and bruised from the night before. “if i am, i don’t want to wake up.” 

“what happens in your dreams?” capturing your chin between his fingers, izuku tilts your gaze over to him — inquisitive, cautious as if you’re an alien life form and he’s trying his best not to scare you away. he doesn’t quite understand you, why you keep returning to him , only to find yourself naked, vulnerable and heartbroken the next day. 

“you love me back, i think. we’re more than what we are right now.”

bitter selfishness tacks itself to the back of your throat like bile — you know that you’re being unkind and greedy to izuku by voicing your thoughts out loud, begging him for even the tiniest slither of love but what’s worse is the lack of compassion for yourself. the endless torture you inflict on your being just waiting for the number one hero to maybe love you back. 

in away, it makes you deserving of one another. whatever it is that the two of you have is no healthier than a pack of cheap cigarettes from the combini at the top of the road. a nicotine addiction that neither of you seem to be able to quit. humming into the moonlit void, deku brushes a thumb over your streaked, pudgy cheek — tracing the tear stains and the tracks left by the lines in the pillowcase. 

his eyes shimmer like the Milky Way on a clear night as he looks at you, strands of longing twisting within the vibrant green flecks in midoriya’s eyes. it must be lonely for him out there — he’s in another universe of his own and you can hardly compare to or comprehend it. “are you still dreaming?” he asks.

reaching up, you grab his wrist from underneath the covers — feeling his pulse beat steadily underneath the pad of your thumb. “i hope so.” you repeat your words from earlier, lashes fluttering against your cheeks — heart pounding. 

“then i’ll love you how you like,” midoriya agrees, masking his sadness with his signature hero smile. the one he uses to let the people he saves know that everything will be okay. even when it’s not. izuku treats you like a damsel in distress and maybe you are. you need saving from yourself, from him and he knows it. you both do. “at least until you wake up.” 

nodding, you close your eyes and lock off the rest of your senses — listening to only the sounds your steady breathing mingling in your own personal pocket of space. time freezes for the two of you, you don’t know how many light years it’s been before you speak again — but izuku’s warmth is still there, still enveloping you like the brilliant rays of the sun at the centre of your universe. he doesn’t dare cast you out into the icy cold of space. not yet.

“then i’ll try to keep dreaming, i’m not ready to wake up just yet.” comes your quiet voice as you lean forward to press your forehead against izuku’s freckled one.

not yet.

he exhales, deep and sad, but cups your face a little tighter and draws you in a little closer. “me either, not yet.” 

not yet. together, wrapped up in one another, the two of you decide that you'll stay lost in the web of constellations for a little bit longer. 

not yet.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[merrinla]

Description of Lucanis from the game files

Character Description: Once the heir to the First Talon and the Antivan Crows' best mage killer, Lucanis now bears scars both physically and mentally from his time as a brainwashed executioner for an evil mage cult. No longer the pragmatic assassin always in control, he wrestles with becoming what he's spent his life hunting: a demon-possessed abomination. He longs to return to his former glory, but the monster inside him demands blood and vengeance. With his future hanging in the balance, Lucanis must decide whether to give into the demon or control it.

Speech Pattern: Smooth but with a dangerous edge. Scary when angry. Sexy when charming. Not delicate.

Accent: Hint of Italian, but not as strong as Zevran's. (He is from a coastal city in Antiva, which had an influx of Tevinter refugees from Seheron after the Qunari invaded 100 years or so ago. That's why he looks and sounds different from Zevran and Josephine.)

Race: Human

Appearance: Lean, sinewy, handsome, but haunted Antivan human man. Mid thirties.

[postpendulum]

Damian's new classmate was what most people would deem as strange, Damian however could not see him as anything other than suspicious. Daniel Knight had joined in the midst of the school year, claiming to have moved here with his father Fredric Knight (first area of suspicion, a parent willingly moving both them and their child to Gotham) for a new start following his fathers divorce. The boy was reclusive when not spoken to directly, however he would not stop talking when a topic of his interest would come up. After searching further into his past (as he does with all his classmates) Damian found a relatively normal past, the only outstanding things being a noticeable drop in grades at the beginnings of freshman year relating to an undisclosed accident resulting in lichtenberg scarring starting from Daniels palm, and presumably up his arm being hidden by his sleeve. Apparently this accident left Daniel with irregular tremors and, every once in a blue moon, seizures. Damian had thought about taking this suspicious blockage of information to Tim or the Bat Computer to be bypassed, however the idea of sharing Daniel this cases existence with the rest of his family for some unexplained reason bothered him greatly, so Damian has come to the decision to figure out Knight’s true intentions on his own.

Meanwhile Danny’s just trying to live his new, semi-normal life in peace. After a reveal gone wrong results in some good old vivisection, Jazz Sam and Tucker recruit the help of Clockwork to find Danny a new home, where he can heal from both the physical and mental wounds. Clockwork ends up dumping Danny into the DC universe alongside Fright Knight, who was insistent on going with him, feeling responsible in helping to protect his young prince now since he feels he failed the first time. So with a bit of spacetime razzle dazzle, Tucker messing with stuff he probably shouldn't have messed with and a very tearful goodbye with promises to check in every day, Danny goes off to start his new life as Daniel Knight. It was going ok so far, he took half the year to himself, focusing on healing. Also so Frighty could adjust to the whole pretending to be human thing. Danny doesn't have any friends yet, and to be honest hasn't made the effort to make any (Jazz would be disappointed if she knew that), but there's this one boy in Danny's class who might be even weirder than him. Danny can feel Damian's eyes on him, knows how he follows him around without a sound (Danny really shouldn't be able to tell, he only knows because he isn't fully human(and in a weird way, Danny thinks that's kinda cool)), and whenever they do make eye contact Danny can see and feel the boy fluster and shy away.

Maybe he just needs a friend too.

[konigsblog]

Kidnapper König who takes away reader’s ability to walk? 🤨

This could mean two different things, and both are reasonable consequences in König's sick, rotten mind.

König wouldn't hesitate to render you physically unable to walk after an escape attempt if it came down to it, forcing you to depend on him instead. What don't you understand, Mäuschen? He adores you with all his heart, he wants nothing but the best for you! When you cringe at his grabby and greedy touch, pushing his grubby hands away, his poor heart aches, a frown curling the sides of his scarred lips as he gazes at you, fear and nausea visible on your face.

He'd thought about drugging you up so you wouldn't be able to feel the torturous, dreadful agony that would follow after him violently and brutally cracking your bones, sending waves of dread through your weakened, shuddering body, but decided to give you a reason to fear him, all while being forced to rely on him for survival. And while König would ignore what he'd done to you for his own mental sake and to not send himself into a depressive spiral, you'd be left forever haunted and traumatised, fearing his debauched touch every night when you're most vulnerable and meek.

Or instead, he'd leave you unable to walk in a different way, you could say... He'd contort your body in a plethora of degrading and humiliating positions, your rear perked up and angled towards him with a pearly bead of your arousal running down his veiny, leaking shaft. He'd use you relentlessly while coddling you, belittling you in such a condescending tone that you almost believe it, while you lay there, bruised and marked thighs clamped together and eyes shut desperately trying to forget about the worsening pain between your legs.

Sure, then you wouldn't be able to run then, with König's white satisfaction dripping down your thighs.