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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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Not requested but on this blog I want to indulge so that is what I will do! Dirk is in progress, I'm almost done Act 5 so soon I will start Act 6. For now, I give you this to test the waters and because I really want to write for the Trolls. (Been awhile since I've written for the sake of just me so I hope you enjoy me pouring my pent up thoughts about this series- I'll accept feedback) Barely proofread, we die like men.

Alphabet Used Here

Spoiler Warning for both sub-acts of Act 5 probably. This also contains triggering themes so read the warnings before reading.

Yandere Alphabet - Gamzee Makara ♑️

Pairing: Matesprit ❤️(Romantic)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Murder, Sadism, Clingy behavior, Obsession, Manipulation, Worshipping, Violence, Grotesque descriptions, Unhinged Gamzee (What's New?), Kidnapping, Dubious into Forced relationship, Blood, Delusional behavior mentioned, Mentions of keeping a corpse, Stalking implied, Decapitation, Implied nercrophillia but I don't go into it for obvious reasons, Death, Breaking of bones.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

For the most part Gamzee is just so caring. He's good-natured and very dedicated to the friendships he has. When it comes to his darling he'd listen to them for the most part, even consulting them about their emotional problems.

He'd be incredibly affectionate towards you as his Matesprit. He seems touch starved due to his upbringing and would cling to you at every chance he gets. Before his breakdown he's a fine yandere to be around, often just trying to lay with you for cuddles and maybe lazy kisses. He's docile... easy to deal with.

AFTER his breakdown, it's a living hell. He goes from being one of the easiest Homestuck yanderes to deal with to one of the hardest.

He's more likely to kill and torment those around him, including his darling in this state.

Just listen to him... don't provoke him... and you may just be alright-

Maybe....

Long story short, he can get intense either way.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Pre-Breakdown! Gamzee wouldn't really get messy. Don't get me wrong, he's CAPABLE of it, but the bloodlust isn't there.

That is until he realizes his Matesprit may just be in danger. The gloves are off then.

Before his breakdown, Gamzee needs a motive to get messy.

Post-Breakdown! Gamzee will just get messy for the fun of it. He loves to see blood fly like a pretty rainbow.

He would club people's heads in just to see their skulls crack. If they were involved with his Matesprit or not doesn't matter. Afterwards he'll approach you, blood cascading from him in all sorts of colors.

He'll giggle at you, honking at unpredictable volumes before wrapping himself around you...

His Matesprit.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Gamzee normally treats you well. He wouldn't mock you, he loves you too much for that. He wants to hold you and never let you go. He likes how warm you feel against him.

In captivity he'd treat you the same as usual. He holds you close and often presses kisses to you in various spaces. He's lazy with his affection but not in the form of neglecting you it, he likes it slow.

After his breakdown, it's horrible. His "affection" is rough and forced. He's feral in this state almost. After his breakdown he'd definitely mock you and tease you. He's a Purple Blood, he deserves your respect.

He's sadistic after he kidnaps you, dragging you to a secluded spot to keep you after smashing your head with a club. He knows you're his Matesprit still he's just twisted about it.

He becomes strangely obsessive about obedience in this state. The longer you're around this Gamzee, the more you miss the old one.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Before his breakdown, no. Gamzee wants you to keep your free will! He loves you, while he gets jealous sometimes he tries to allow you to do your own thing.

Afterwards, yes. He does pretty much everything against your will after his breakdown.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Before his breakdown I'd say a lot. Even after his breakdown he still does... just completely insane.

Gamzee is very attached to you as a Matesprit. He wants to give you everything he can before his breakdown. He wants to be there for you and you to be there for him.

After his breakdown it's either less or extremely deluded. He still wants to do things for you... but he mostly wants you to do things for him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Normally Gamzee wouldn't understand it. Why are you so upset? It's that or he just takes it as some sort of game and plays along. He doesn't entirely take it seriously.

After his breakdown Gamzee tolerance for this is at an all time low. He'll say it's cute but then try to force you back under his control. If you don't kneel... he'll make you kneel by breaking your bones.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Gamzee likes games but his red feelings for you are no game! He doesn't understand why you try to escape and tries to calm you the best he can. Like a Matesprit should!

After his breakdown Gamzee may indulge in the chase and hunt, then drag you back and punish you for trying that.

Running from your Matesprit... just what were you thinking?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

When he eventually has his breakdown. What's worse than Gamzee running around and slaughtering all your friends then hunting you covered in their blood?

Maybe it's when he breaks your bones and makes you bleed for disobeying him?

That, or the high probability of your own death.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Gamzee in general just wants to pursue Matespritship with you. Be you human or troll, he doesn't mind. All he knows is he loves you.

He considers starting a life with you off his sopor slime addiction. Honestly you may be the only one who can tame the rage in his genes. Thinking of the future with you is a bit difficult...

But he's fine as long as he has you.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Gamzee is normally really chill. If he did get jealous he could probably cope. You're destined to be Matesprits anyways, that's what his Mirthful Messiahs promised him!

If someone was trying to express red feelings for you too, however...

Gamzee doesn't mind talking to them... maybe even a little threat with one of his juggling clubs.

After his breakdown, he no longer copes. He's going to decapitate someone or just bash them in with his weapon.

It's disrespectful to take his Matesprit, isn't it?

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Affectionate. Normally Gamzee clings to you when he sees you and acts really relaxed. Around you he is less inclined to take sopor slime and feels really happy. He doesn't mind PDA and just wants to show his Matesprit he loves them!

If you need to talk to him about something, he's all ears. He loves to try and help you and is even a bit silly at times. He's just... a lovable Matesprit.

After his breakdown Gamzee is just intimidating with his darling. He isn't as openly caring. He cares way more about killing those around you than anything else. He doesn't even mind being a threat to you himself as he gets so deranged.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Gamzee becomes friends with you at first. He doesn't mind placing you in the pale quadrant for now until he starts developing red feelings.

Gamzee will begin to realize he has red feelings for you the more he interacts with you. Be it through a chatting program or beside each other... Gamzee realizes he likes your attention.

He loves the idea of just... chilling with you.

You must be made for him! It's a MIRACLE you've met!

You are destined to be Matesprits, aren't you?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Well... with Gamzee it's hard to say.

After his breakdown, obviously.

Before it... not really anything too noticeable.

Other than the obsessive need to know about you and ask for you to be his Matesprit/the affection I suppose.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Normally, Gamzee wouldn't punish you.

Breakdown! Gamzee would. Which would include a great amount of pain, or possibly death by clubbing.

How much did you piss him off?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Normal Gamzee, none.

Breakdown! Gamzee, nearly everything.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He's patient normally until his breakdown, then his patience is thin.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Normal Gamzee, not really. You may just push him more into his slime addiction if you left before he tried to find you. He may just REACH his breakdown if you left.

If you died, Gamzee grieves heavily. Suddenly... he wonders why he was given such a cruel outcome.

Breakdown! Gamzee won't tolerate you leaving. Either way you'd be dead. He doesn't grieve, either. No... he carries on.

You're still his Matesprit! Even as a beheaded corpse! Really, what will change?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Gamzee may feel bad at first but wouldn't let you go. It is what it is, right? You're Matesprits now.

Breakdown! Gamzee doesn't care. He would still not let you go and does not feel bad in the slightest.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His Lusus was never really home and he was essentially just left to raise himself. He's always been alone. So... that could cause the obsessive need for a Matesprit possibly.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Gamzee would try to console you. He actually likes to mediate emotional issues for friends, like Karkat.

How could he not help his Matesprit out emotionally? He wants to help you the best he can!

Breakdown! Gamzee probably takes some sort of pleasure from it. He'd lick your tears or something, probably.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's likely kill his darling and keep their corpse after his breakdown. We've all seen what that leads to... unfortunately.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

It's easy to get space from normal Gamzee. He loves you and wants you to have freedoms. So... nothing much.

Breakdown! Gamzee... no chance.

Maybe extreme affection?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Normally, no, never.

Post-breakdown? Yes. To the point of death.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He's worship you like a religious gift. He is a worship yandere at times and would go to great lengths to keep you in general.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He could pine for awhile... not too long, though.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Normally, no, never.

Post-breakdown? In every way possible and maybe even more

#yandere homestuck #yandere pesterquest #yandere homestuck x reader #yandere gamzee makara

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kpopnstarwars · 8 months

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Cyar'ika: Din Djarin x Reader

A/N: wrote this when i was younger but i still kinda like it so excuse the cheese (i know the text dividers are off centre ok dont come for me)

Warnings: blood, injuries, fever, angsty, i think there's swearing, massive cheesiness at the end and tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: <2500

You've known Mando - Din, since you two were children, playing at the ankles of the other, older, Mandalorians. You two grew up together, trained with each other, told each other your names at hardly a blink of an eye, swore yourselves to the Creed on the same day. After that, you two did go your separate ways, him joining the Guild as a bounty hunter, you deciding to do the same job, except you didn't work for the Guild. Because of this, you two didn't see each other often, but that's fine because you made time for each other. Din's probably the only person you trust. And him, well, he definitely trusts you. If he didn't, you two wouldn't be friends. You're the only person he goes out of his way to meet up with for company, and nothing else.

So hopefully he won't mind that you just managed to break into his ship so you could get somewhere where the beskar won't be ripped off your body by people taking advantage of your current state. Or that despite both your hands pressed into the wound, you're bleeding all over the floor from the wound that you recieved after being a little bit too lazy on a hunt. Or that smear of gore left behind you when you dragged yourself up the cargo ramp. Or the fact that you could very well steal the child from where he's sleeping peacefully in the cot to your right.

You know he'll see the scuff marks and prints in the dust around his ship, so you aren't surprised when he climbs up the ramp with his blaster raised and ready.

'Hands up,' he says in that cool, measured voice that you love, despite the crackle of static that masks it almost fully. Your heart aches, because it reminds you that you'll never see him with his helmet off, unless he... No, he'd never. To Din, you're a friend. Nothing else.

'I - I don't think I can put my hands up,' you gasp out. 'Unless you want my guts on your floor.' 'Stars, Y/N,' he mutters, and you grin weakly under your helmet, which turns to a grimace as he scoops you up, careful not to jar your gloved hands where they're pressed against your side. 'G - guess I should h - have listened to you when we were y - ounger and you t - told me I had to be more careful,' you grit out.

'Shut up,' he mutters, setting you down carefully on his cot and moving lightning fast from crate to crate, rummaging through them, cursing under his breath, the closest to panic you've ever seen. Eventually, he growls a long string of Outer Rim expletives since all he has is a needle and thread. Your eyes droop, and somehow he must know, because he practically slaps you across the helmet, the jolt making your eyes snap back open, a whimper falling from your lips, your hands weakening as they press into your wound, keeping the blood in.

'Stay awake,' he pleads. 'I'm sorry, I don't have any - any bacta. I've got to stitch you up before I leave to get any. I'm going to have to t - take this off, okay?'

'Don't - don't let me die, Din,' you pant, and you could swear you hear a choked sob as he yanks his gloves off; his warm, steady hands start ripping away your breastplate, then your undershirt, and you can't help but notice the way his calluses scrape against the scar marred skin of your stomach. You focus on the feel of it, jaw clenched, trying to blot out the pain.

'Oh Maker,' he gulps, surveying your wound, and you don't dare look, just fix your eyes on his visor, right where you know his eyes are. He threads the needle, cursing his clumsiness, and suddenly

Blinding pain. Throbbing through your stomach, bright shafts of agony, and you swallow your scream, hands fisting in Din's sheets. You hear yourself gasping his name, but he doesn't, won't stop, apologizing again and again as he sews you back up, and dimly, your voice begs him to distract you, and then there's that soft baritone, masked by the vocoder, yet still there, still human, and you fall silent, focusing on his voice, anything but the pain, and he's whispering things you hear but don't understand, his voice engulfing you - and then it stops. The pain reduces, and the muscles you unknowingly tensed relax.

'What?' You slur. 'I'm finished. Go to sleep, cyar'ika.'

Your brain registers the last word more than the others. Sweetheart, in Mando'a. He just - Din just called you... The rest of your brain deciphers the former part of his sentence, and your eyelids slam shut.

────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────

You wake up shivering. Din's crouched by the cot, one hand on the skin of your neck since he can't exactly touch your forehead. You giggle deliriously at the thought of taking off your helmet in front of him, and he cocks his head.

'Y/N?' He asks softly, and you become aware that the shirt on you is far too big and definitely smells like him. Underneath is some gauze over your stitches, and you can tell that he's already applied the bacta. 'This your shirt?' You slur, even though it's pretty obvious. Din turns his helmet away, and you feel his gaze move off you. 'I got the bacta too late,' he says, voice heavy with worry. 'You've got a fever.'

'Cold,' you mumble, and suddenly, he looks so warm, so inviting, and some weird part of your memory remembers Din's basically a furnace. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, yanking him towards you. No way he's caught by surprise, Din doesn't do surprised, so he must let you drag him closer so you can bury your face into the fabric of his cape, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the cloth. Happily, you sigh, one hand crawling over his shoulder to start undoing his breastplate.

'Y/N,' he chokes out as you chuck it over his shoulder and meld yourself into his chest, absorbing his warmth. 'Why are you calling me my name now? You called me cyar'ika before,' you whine, not really aware that you're speaking out loud. He freezes, then his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you close, stroking your hair. 'Go to sleep,' he soothes, but his voice shakes a little. 'But - ' 'I'll - I'll explain to you later,' he mutters, and touches his forehead to yours. 'Keldabe kiss,' you mumble, and he nods. 'Yeah. Sleep now.' He pauses. 'Cyar'ika.'

────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────

You stand under the shower head in the 'fresher, wishing the hot water pummeling your skin could wash away all your worries.

You didn't actually believe it was possible to avoid Din on a ship as small as the Razor Crest until... well, until you proved yourself wrong by doing exactly that. And Din was probably doing the same, so whenever you two do pass by each other, there's a thick silence that is only punctuated by the child's coos - probably of confusion, since the two bucket headed humans which he's always seen together are now doing all they can to stay away from each other.

To be honest, you're running out of excuses to escape to a room where Din isn't. You're almost healed now, fever broken a day ago, wound near gone, thanks to the bacta Din left out for you since he's definitely not going to smear it on while you two are acting like the other doesn't exist. The wound still hurts a bit, and you know it's going to be hard to take out the stitches without help, but you'll risk pretty much anything to avoid having to talk out your whiny clinginess during the fever with Din.

You know it's going to happen eventually; one of you is going to break and blurt something out, and you're determined not to be the first, because you have no idea what the outcome will be. And because you're scared - scared that if you stop acting like nothing happened, Din will reveal that he doesn't like you like you like him and the friendship, the trust that you two had built, will all crumble to nothing but memories.

So you stay silent. And you linger in the rooms where Din is not as much as possible. Reaching to the side, you switch off the water, as usual, so Din gets some hot water too, but unlike normally, you sit down in the shower with your back to the tiles, letting the steam warm you until it gets too cold to procrastinate any longer and you're forced to dry yourself off and throw on some clothes. Just before you leave, you lift up your shirt and look at the stitches - the stitches Din made - and look at them. If they stay in any longer, they're likely to get infected. You know that you can't reach them at a good angle, and you risk injuring yourself if you take them out by yourself, but it's not like you can do anything else. Dropping the shirt hem, you slip on your helmet and unlock the 'fresher door and walk slap bang into Din.

'Sorry,' you both mutter at the same time. You move to edge around him, but he doesn't budge, or refuses to budge, so you have to stand there, in front of him, waiting for him. 'Your stitches need to be removed soon,' he says. 'Yeah,' you nod. It's torture, standing there, so close together yet so far apart. 'I should take them out.'

You press your lips together, needing to get past, to run from him. Suddenly, you burst out in a frustrated barrage of words. 'Stars, are you just going to stand there all day? What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do, Mando?' He takes a step back. You haven't called him Mando in private since you told each other your names, years ago. 'Y/N?' 'Why haven't you kicked me out of your ship yet?' You snap, knowing you've gone too far but not able to help it. 'It's obvious you don't want to look at me let alone get my stitches out so why don't you just chuck me out through the hatch and let me go be miserable somewhere else?' 'I wouldn't - I don't - ' 'Yeah, sure,' you say bitterly. 'Of course you'll get my stitches out, of course you wouldn't chuck me out the hatch, of course I'm someone you want here, of course you... of course you love me like I love you.' Your voice cracks, and if he was still before during your rant, now he's frozen. A sob threatens to break from your lips, because he's not moving, he doesn't care, of course he doesn't, and you don't want to cry in front of him, so you turn away, grab the 'fresher door handle -

A hand closes around your wrist. 'Stop.'

But you don't want to see it. You don't want to see the pitying black stare of his visor, don't want him to try and break it to you gently that he doesn't want you, so you snatch your hand back and slam the door behind you, lock it. Your helmet falls with a clang to the 'fresher floor, and you swipe at the tears blurring your vision, huddling into yourself. A lump forms in your throat, and you attempt to swallow it down, holding in your sobs because you know Din will hear them, and somehow, still, you don't want him to. You know it will hurt him. And none of this is his fault, you don't want to put this on him. Surely, this is your fault. Your fault for falling for a man who doesn't love you back.

────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────

You don't know how much later, but you're still on the 'fresher floor, helmet off, everything unchanged but for the door; unlocked. Unlocked, because you still cling onto a small hope that he'll want you, that he'll open the door and scoop you up and... Your heart pangs, and you swipe at another tear that falls. The silence seems to swallow your sniffles which feel so pitful, so weak, and you stare balefully at the shower head, wishing that it was still you and Din, friends, and nothing more.

There's a knock on the door, and that voice sounds, forcing you to hide your face in your hands to smother another choked sob as it speaks. 'Y/N... Y/N, put on your helmet.' You don't think, you just obey his voice because you've got no life left in you, no fight. The door eases open, and he stands there. 'I - I'm not good at talking,' he starts. 'But I want you to... I... it hurts me to see you like this.' You stare at him, silent, unresponsive, hopeless now. 'Just... get to the point.' 'Y/N...' His voice cracks. 'I love you too.' He falls to his knees in front of you as you don't move so much as an inch, your tears starting again. He grabs your hand in his, and with his other, he hooks his fingers under his helmet and lifts -

Your eyes slam shut. 'No.' You gasp. 'No, Din. The - the Creed.' 'I don't care,' he growls. 'Look at me. Look at me.' You shake your head. 'Stop. Please.' 'I love you, Y/N,' he says softly. 'I love you, cyar'ika.'

Your body goes rigid, and of their own accord, your eyes open for a split second before you squeeze them shut again, but his face is engraved in your memory. Soft looking, brown curls, gentle eyes which belong wholly to Din, lips which...

He gathers you in his arms. 'I know you saw,' he whispers. 'Marry me, cyar'ika.' Your tongue speaks for you before your brain can catch up. 'Yes, Din, anything.' He kisses the beskar cheek of your helmet, and you drink in his features, those beautiful eyes, as he speaks. 'I'm sorry I didn't...' You shake your head cutting him off. 'Seriously?' You say, voice still wobbling. 'You just black mailed me. If I didn't marry you, you'd have been forced to kill me.' His laugh without the vocoder makes you melt. 'I guess I was hoping you'd say yes.'

You yank your helmet off, and his eyes have barely settled on your face before you hook an arm around his neck and pull him towards you, locking your mouth onto his. He kisses you back with the desperation of a man who needs you like he needs air, his lips soft as he tangles his hands into your hair. You pull away, glancing back at your helmet which has rolled over to rest against his.

'My cyar'ika,' he murmurs, cupping your face in his callused hands, and you turn your gaze back to him.

'My riduur.'

#star wars #din djarin #din #the mandalorian #mando #din x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #this is so unnecessarily cheesy and cliche #who is slow burn idk her

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halcyon-writings · 7 months

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Can you do a thing for Li Ling getting medical attention from reader because reader doesn't scold him for getting injured?

for sure anon (also idk what this trope is but it’s chefs kiss)

nav.

You hear the flap of the small makeshift tent being lifted, while you’re in the midst of reading various emails and reminders. Instead of looking up from the dimmed screen, you hum in acknowledgement as you hear footsteps get closer.

A hand is raised in a lazy wave, before your lips part and you greet the familiar visitor, “Long time no see.”

You get a mix of a snort and a grunt in return, in turn, your nose crinkles in amusement as you finally deign to look at him. No one other than Li Ling stands before you. The arms of his divine power folded behind him while his actual arms are folded across his bare chest, a jacket slung loosely over his shoulders that you’re surprised it hasn’t fallen off yet.

“One would think even with the cold, you’d wear a proper coat,” You murmur, shutting the laptop before you and placing it back in the case as you stand.

“Bah, ‘s nothing but a cool breeze,” He says flippantly. Already, he seats himself on one of the spare cots, leave it to him to walk around like he owned the place no matter where the Esper Union assigned him to.

“For you maybe,” You reply, giving him a once over, only to not really find any sort of injuries at all, “What brings you to the medical tent?” You raise an eyebrow, as he sighs melodramatically, laying back onto the cot with a grunt.

“I’m injured,” He says plainly.

You snort. Before it becomes full on laughter, as you see him frown in your direction.

“Be serious.”

“I am!”

Your unconvinced look makes him crinkle his nose. Before he raises a non-divinely powered arm up in the air, it takes you squinting to actually see what he’s trying to show you.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” You say dryly, looking at the tiniest of scratches on his arm.

“Nuh uh!”

You still stare, unimpressed.

To which he at least has some sense to deflate a little, but Li Ling was still laying in the bed after all.

“You don’t want to debrief with Raven, do you?”

“They’re just so boring!” He complains, like he isn’t a higher ranked member of the union and probably even higher ranked than you if he thought about it for longer than a moment.

“Please, doc?” He whines… whines!

You sigh with what sounds like another laugh, before you take his arm, a gloved hand inspecting the “wound.” Because even if you didn’t admit it, you indulged him at times too.

“Alright, ten minutes. But if Raven comes here looking for you, it’s not my problem.”

He pumps his fist into the air, with a silent cheer.

“I knew you were my favorite.”

“Or the only one who plays along with you getting out of paperwork.”

When Raven finds him, you wave off a complaining Li Ling as he’s all but dragged away.

#dislyte x reader #dislyte imagines #li ling x reader #dislyte imagine #li ling dislyte x reader #mine

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kangen-wanshi · 1 year

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Pulse ft. Wanshi: Hypnos

Wanshi really likes holding your hand. Or more specifically, your wrist. Why is that?

Tags: Wanshi x GN!Reader || Fluff with suggestive ending, consent touching, kissing mwah mwah

Whenever Wanshi walked with you, he would always hold your wrist.

It's a weird way of handholding, that's for certain. But with how rare for him to initiate the act, you honestly can't complain.

At first you thought he might just.. Simply missed your hand completely and ended up holding onto your wrist. But when it keeps repeating, when he keeps purposely holding your wrist instead of your hand, you're slowly convinced that this is just how he wished to hold onto you, despite it looking like he's dragging you most of the time.

-And you never ask him why. He's so casual about it, never bringing it up in conversation as it's the normal thing to do, so you do exactly that.

You found out soon enough the answer to it when you slowly stirred awake from your nap with him. He had forced you to come with him to one of his secret napping lair because Hassen keeps bullying you with paperwork. Too exhausted to argue against the construct, you simply comply as you let him drag you along by the wrist to the designated area.

Stirring awake, you felt a different type of warmth placed on one of your hands. With how dim the light is, and how quiet the place is, it doesn't take a genius to know who the presence belongs to.

He seems to notice that you're awake, too. His hands, free of his gloves, fiddling with yours quietly.

You let him. The silence is only filled with your rhythmic heartbeat. One that he seems to take note of.

While his fingers intertwined with yours, his other hand slid down to your wrist, slender fingers grazing your pulse delicately, pressing gently, as he let the thumping continue beneath his artificial skin.

"Is this why you always hold my wrist?" You simply asked him. He didn't immediately answer, still carefully dancing the tip of his fingers along your vein, an action that sends shivers down your body.

His reply only makes your pulse beat quicker, as he pulls the inside of your wrist to his lips, and gives it a light, longing kiss. Replacing the action that he had done with his fingers, with his lips.

"Your heartbeat is so endearing, Commandant." He hummed. His breath warmed up your palm as he pressed another kiss to your pulse. "I like knowing that you're there with me. Your presence, your existence, the essence that tells me that.. That you are alive."

You curled your fingers, holding his other hand tighter as you're at a loss of words. With him slowly advancing to cage you under him, and your pulse still beating rapidly against his lips, he has absolute control over you.

"And besides.." he chuckled, his lazy smile turned mischievous, with a glint of some excitement behind it as he held your hand close to him. ".. This seems like an efficient way to find out how much my actions affect you, right?."

"Say. Will you let me hear more of you, Commandant?"

#les does writing #wanshi x reader #pgr wanshi x reader #pgr x reader #pgr imagines #punishing gray raven x reader #punishing gray raven #pgr #reader insert #x reader #suggestive #tw suggestive

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oreharuuu · 1 year

Text

éta ritual (5)

Summary: Meeting San's two friends was an interesting experience yet...you can't help but hide your suspicion about them.

Warnings: none

A/N: I'M SORRY I WAS LATE POSTING THIS! I've rewritten the whole thing because I wasn't happy with it, but I'm satisfied with the whole thing now so ENJOY :)

"Oh, please. You think the library is swamped on a Monday?"

"Oh, (name). You don't have to say sorry for taking a few days off," Suho hummed as you placed your phone on your shoulder. You huffed, dragging the trash bag outside of your apartment. "I feel bad because you only have Mark working at the moment."

You shrugged before realizing Suho can't see it. "It might. You never know."

Suho sighed. "Well, don't worry. You better finish that problem sooner or later. Are you staying with someone?"

"Yeah, my neighbor."

San was an angel for letting you stay on his couch for the meantime. It's only been a day since the incident but you're trying to clean up at a faster pace because you don't want to bother San anymore. He's adamant that he's okay with the whole thing but you don't want to stay longer because that man is a menace.

You only stayed one day at his apartment to calm yourself down and relax before doing any work, but damn did San not know the term 'personal boundaries'. You slept on the couch because your heart's going to burst if you step into San's room. The one morning you woke up to the smell of bacon, you sat up only to go eyes wide when you saw San shirtless. He's only wearing pajama pants but the pants are down to his hips, showing the top of his underwear? Boxers? You don't even know because your mind isn't working right.

Laying back down you only stared at the ceiling as you tried to erase the image from your mind. You could've sworn you heard a growl somewhere nearby, but your heart stopped literally when San appeared smiling, his dimple showing.

Fuck.

"Morning, (name)! Breakfast is ready, come eat it before I eat everything," He smiled as he walked away again to grab a plate for himself.

That morning you looked everywhere besides San's godly body, not noticing how he's hiding his smirks as he purposely stretched and flexed his muscles.

Thankfully San needed to run some errands before working tomorrow. But that didn't stop yourself from ogling at how his clothes fit nicely to his body like a glove. "I'm gonna go now, you sure you don't want me to buy anything?" San asked.

"No thanks," You smiled. "I'm good."

San smiled before waving goodbye, closing the door before you huffed and screamed into the pillow you slept yesterday.

"—So I'm guessing this neighbor is also helping you?"

You snapped out of your head, coughing lightly before answering Suho. "No, actually. His friends are willing to help though because he's busy with work."

"Hmm, what a nice man."

You sighed. "Tell me about it."

You and Suho kept talking over the phone as you mindlessly cleaned what you can in your apartment. As Suho was talking about a cute dog he saw yesterday, a knock stopped you from grabbing the trash. "Suho, can I call you later? I think his friends are here."

Saying goodbye, you turned off the call before making yourself presentable with the hoodie, joggers, and messy hair. You're too lazy to change anyway and you're cleaning. Fixing your glasses you walked to the door before opening it.

What a sight it was.

Both of the men were tall. One with brown hair and one with bold coloured hair. You've never met anyone with hair of neon yellow and orange make it look so good.

"Hi, are you (name)?" The man with brown hair asked, making you nod. "Yeah, I'm (name). I'm assuming your San's friends?"

"Yup!" The other man cheerily replied. "My name's Mingi, this is Yunho. Nice to meet you."

Your tense body slowly went lax, smiling at how cute Mingi is. They both have golden retriever energies so you don't sense any bad things from them. Although their height is still making you a bit uneasy because of how short you are compared to them.

"Nice to meet you too! Thank you really for offering to help."

Yunho waved you off. "It's fine, besides we don't really have anything to do. And we've been dying to meet the girl San was gushing over."

Hearing that you tried to hide the rising heats on your cheeks by coughing, hiding behind the door before appearing back to them. "Thank you! But sadly San never told me about you guys. Are you guys close friends or...?"

"Oh!" Mingi smiled. "Let's say we've been together for a long time."

"Very, very, long time," Yunho smirked.

"Hmm, must be good friends then."

Mingi and Yunho only nodded, so you opened the door wider to let them in. You're embarrassed as both of the men looked around your apartment with an unreadable expression, shifting uneasily when Yunho turned back to look at you.

"I presumed you already cleaned this already?"

"Well yeah, not all though. Just started cleaning a few hours a go," You shrugged helplessly.

Mingi and Yunho exchanged glances before Mingi asked back. "So...the apartment is actually more cleaner now?"

You nodded.

Yunho smiled but you know it's not a pleasant one, while Mingi scowled before shaking his head with a sigh. "San told us the girl is your friend?"

"Was," You snarked back. "After the stunt she pulled I'm not sure I'll be able to hold myself back from punching her. But then again I'll probably just think about it instead of actually doing it."

"I'm supporting you to punch her. If my Cas—uh, apartment was trashed like this or even worse, I'd say kill her," Yunho shrugged, Mingi nodding along in agreement.

"Yeah, not taking any chances here," You huffed before making your way towards the mess on your kitchen. "I believe you both came here to help me?"

Both of them grin, separating as they make their way towards the mess inside. You huffed before grabbing the trash bags outside before deciding to clean your bedroom next. It's not as trashed as the living room, but still messy nonetheless.

"You need help here?" Yunho popped his head inside your room, carrying a trash bag over his shoulder. You looked around before shaking your head. "Nope. I'm good here."

You noticed how Yunho lingers around the door, noticing how he's shifting his gaze around your room. Before you could ask him what's wrong, a knock from the door interrupted your question.

You swore you heard a growl from Yunho but you ignored it. It sounds too...inhuman for it to come from an actual human. "Someone visiting you?" Yunho cocked his head towards the door.

"Actually...no."

You heard the door open, instantly thinking that Mingi opened the door. You heard talking so you brushed off any dust from your clothes before walking towards the door, Yunho following behind.

"Mark? What're you doing here?"

"(name)!" Mark smiled happily. "Wanted to visit you before going to work, Suho told me what happened. So I bought something for you."

"Aww, thanks. You really didn't have to," You walked up to grab the bag from Mark's hand, noticing the delicious smell. "Damn, right on time. Thanks for the food!"

"Wanted to eat with you, but it seems you have company..."

"Oh!" You forgot Yunho and Mingi were here, looking back at them before pointing. "That's Yunho, that's Mingi. They're actually my neighbor's friends, they wanted to help me."

"Oh, hi!"

"Hello," Mingi replied with a smile but you noticed how it didn't reach his eyes. Yunho only nodded with a tense smile, making the atmosphere awkward before you cleared your throat. "Wanna come in? I mean you did buy the food."

Mark opened his mouth before closing it. You frowned when suddenly his eyes looked blank, almost empty. "Mark? You okay?" You waved a hand in front of him, but no response.

"Actually," He started. "I remembered I had something to do before I go to work. It's best if I work on it."

Weird. He sounded like a stranger to you with that kinda of language and tone, but you shrugged before hugging him. "Alright, hope it goes well. Take care Mark!"

Mark's body was lax so you thought he didn't want any hugs right now, but his blank gaze was still etched on his face. Glancing back at Mingi and Yunho, you noticed the subtle yet annoyed smirk Yunho had while Mingi straight up looked scary as he glared at Mark.

"Uh...anything wrong here?"

Mingi glanced at Yunho before his face melts from any tension, smiling at you before grabbing your back gently. "All fine, love. Maybe Mark's a little...tired. Let's leave him be."

You frowned but nodded nonetheless. Mark did mentioned how his professor seems to have a grudge towards him, always making him revise a few assignments. "Maybe. Bye, Mark! I'll see you at work!"

Mark didn't even wave before Yunho closed the door, a bit strong in your opinion. You saw how Yunho was hunched, huffing softly before looking back at you with a smile. You hold back the shiver that just went through your body, slowly inching away from Mingi; not noticing his gaze always looking at you.

You swore his eyes was red but in an instant it vanished. Jumping back to Mingi, you didn't even notice Yunho already standing in front of you.

"So," He purred. "Shall we continue were we left off?"

#poly ateez x reader #yandere ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez

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drivinmeinsane · 7 months

Text

The Way You Stare

※ Driver (Drive) x Ken (Barbie) ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Ken has never learned the importance of being patient. His efforts to be the sole recipient of Driver's steady focus earn him a hard and frustrating lesson from a man who is not very composed himself.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Edgeplay, Cum Eating, Light Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Face-Fucking, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Glove Kink, Blow Jobs

※ Word count: 4,817

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Back again on my bullshit. I can't seem to stop thinking about Ken and Driver.

The television casts a flickering glow over the intimately small room. Dazzling shades of colors from the screen paint every reachable surface with watercolor hues. A lighthouse beacon in all the muted chaos is Driver. The man sits at the folding table in the apartment’s single chair. The small table is crowded with his current project. He is curled thoughtfully over the carburetor he’s working on, peering through the magnifier of his lamp. While he thinks, he flips his socket tool between his fingers. The rhythmic motion is soothing to watch. It makes Ken think of something else that the other man’s hand could be doing instead.

Ken really is not sure what the other man is doing exactly despite it being explained to him earlier in the evening, but regardless, he can’t tear his eyes away from him. He scrutinizes every detail, every movement of his hands, every shift of the muscles under his blue shirt. The harsh, white gleam of the LED light illuminates the mechanic’s face in a way that has Ken shifting uncomfortably in his seat on the worn couch. The television has become a secondary thought, something that was supposed to keep him distracted. Driver had gestured to the couch some hours ago, while the sun was still setting, and Ken is finally tired of entertaining himself. He knows the quietly working man doesn’t have a job tonight. There have been no phone calls to be answered on a burner phone, no monologues given in that deceptively lazy voice. He’s wholly unoccupied by anything more important than a hobby that he has already spent ages on. Ken personally thinks that Driver is past due to divert his attention to something more… pressing.

He lets himself sigh loudly over the low murmur of the television, hoping to garner attention. Driver doesn’t so much as twitch at the intrusive sound. Ken seals and tosses the bag of pecans that he’s been steadily working through onto the couch cushion beside him. The nuts rattle aggressively in their pouch. He’s not hungry anymore, not when he’s been driven to distraction. He lets his head lull against the leather couch. His hands find their way to the front of his pants. His fingers deftly pop the button and unzip the fly. He drags them off his legs with little huffs and moans, fabric rustling noisily. He’s stripped down to his thong and his unbuttoned, collared shirt. The apartment’s air is cool on his newly bare legs and he shivers.

Driver’s jacket is folded haphazardly over the arm of the couch. The fabric shines like a star in the night sky, twinkling with the parade of lights from the television across the way. He brushes curious fingers over the scorpion embroidered on the back. It’s bumpy under his exploratory touch. He has half a mind to press his face into the silky material and find his release with his own hand. It would only be a pale substitute for the real thing, for the man seated mere feet away. The weight of the other man’s body, the calloused hands, the perpetual smell of oil and cheap soap clinging to his flesh; Ken wants it all. He probably wants too much. He always has. It’s his fatal flaw, the one that made him unsuited to Barbieland.

He must make a noise that cuts through the stunt driver’s focus because he shifts to look over his shoulder at him. Driver squints into the relative darkness outside the influence of his table light. He takes in the way that Ken’s hand is lingering on the golden arachnid, and he traces the lines of his exposed legs before pulling away to meet Ken’s pleading stare. There’s a questioning flicker in those blue depths before he turns back to fine-tuning the air and fuel ratio. Ken feels a twist in his stomach. He’s trying to be patient, he really is. Driver’s unwavering dedication is something that he both loves and hates. Loves it when he’s the object of all that attentiveness, hates it when he’s not.

The television drones on by the bed, Ken weakly tries making commentary about it. The other man doesn't so much as look at him again. There’s no hum of acknowledgement either. Ken decides that maybe he can start to entertain himself with the hopes that Driver will take over. He gropes at himself with an inexperienced hand. His touch doesn’t feel nearly as good as the other man’s would. Rocking up against his flattened palm does little but frustrate him enough to let out a whine that also gets no response. He’s utterly and thoroughly blocked out. The feeling it gives him is enough to finally urge him off the couch. He approaches the mechanic, hovers a hand over his shoulder. He wants to touch him, but this way won’t be enough. His tongue passes over his lips, tasting the fruity flavor of the product he’d glossed them with hours ago in the hopes that Driver would notice and be driven to distraction. It hadn’t worked, but he had an inkling of what might.

With a confidence he doesn’t feel, he gets to his knees on the carpet. He fits himself under the folding table, careful to not hit his head on the underside of it. The last thing he wants to do is make a mess and destroy the other man’s concentration with a clumsy mistake. No, he wants to break that concentration in a way that results in him getting those meticulously steady hands on his body. He puts his hands on Driver’s thighs, right above the hinge of his knees. A little applied pressure gets those long legs to spread wider, enough to make room for Ken to shuffle forward between them. There’s no resistance. Either Driver is too wrapped up in his work to notice, or he’s willing to accommodate Ken’s desires. He hopes it’s the latter. It makes him feel special. His heart is hammering in his ears as he leans in to start mouthing at the seam of Driver’s jeans, right over the zipper. The lipgloss he’s wearing leaves tacky, shimmery impressions of his wandering lips, smearing it right into the coarse fabric. Everything that the other man owns has slowly been marked and tainted by errant flecks of shine. The possessive streak in Ken always preens at the sight of his iridescent glitter adorning Driver’s clothing, his hair, his skin . Ken has staked his claim over and over in a way that’s not able to be easily erased. It’s a neon sign blinking “ownership” in garish letters like the ones on Hollywood Boulevard where Driver had taken him one night when he didn't have a job. It feels good .

Teasing the mechanic through the fabric of his pants is not enough. The faint twitches of the wheelman’s cock responding to his careful attention is too muted, too impersonal. Ken needs more. It’s an easy thing to undo the man’s belt, leaving it hanging from its loops, to slip the button free of the hole, to tug at the zipper until it glides down, to be granted with the sight of Driver’s sensitive skin. He appreciates that he doesn’t wear anything underneath his jeans, it makes these moments so much more satisfying. He slips his mouth over Driver’s cock, running his tongue along the soft flesh, savoring the moment. Driver jerks, hits his knee on the underside of the table with a clatter when he’s suddenly enveloped in the wet heat of Ken’s mouth. He doesn’t stop him, merely sinks lower in his seat to provide better access, and Ken grunts, pleased, around the gradually hardening dick he’s tending to. He hears a ragged breath, but also the noises of Driver resuming his work. Stung, he doubles his efforts; swirls his tongue over the slit, hollows his cheeks, and sucks like his life depends on it. In a way, it does. Who is he if he’s not wanted?

He’s midway through taking the now hard length down his throat, swallowing around the shaft when Driver weaves a hand into the blond strands of his hair and pulls him off. Strings of saliva and precome connect Ken’s puffy, pink lips to the flushed tip of Driver’s leaking cock before tension snaps the delicate threads. He sits back on his heels, panting. The grip the other man has on him is bordering on painful but it causes Ken to press his own hand against his crotch needily. The thong he’s wearing is doing little in the way of modesty. He’s already soaked through it. Arousal over this situation shoots through him like a succession of lightning strikes.

“You gotta learn to be patient.” Driver’s voice is low, predatory. There’s a hungry edge to it that serves to remind Ken that the man holding onto his hair isn't nearly as mild as he seems.

His pulse kicks up a notch and he feels a boldness that is unlike him. Tonight has been about experimental bravado and the desperation to be desired. "Teach me then."

Driver stands up and kicks the chair he was just sitting on out of the way. It collides with the storage tub against the wall in a manner that is sure to get a complaint relayed to them by the building’s superintendent. His cock is jutting obscenely from his body, framed by his open jeans. Ken is not sure where to look. Any option is too overwhelming. He's not given any time to agonize over it because Driver hauls him out from under the table by his hair, forceful enough to nearly send him face first against the standing man's hip. The fingers knotted against his scalp coax his head back, bearing his throat in a submissive arc. His lips are parted, wet and inviting. He can't quite catch his breath. His knees feel raw from the friction against the carpet. He shudders at the sparks of pain. They're igniting something new in him. Something dark and unexplored.

He gets to his feet, prompted by a sharp tug upwards. The attempt to steady himself by placing stabilizing hands on the man holding him is thwarted when the man he’s trying to brace himself against takes a step back. The message is clear. No touching.

The grip Driver has on him leaves him with no other desirable choice than to allow himself to be steered the few, meager feet to the apartment’s only bed. The air is knocked out of him when he gets unceremoniously bent over it, face to the burgundy bedspread, arms awkwardly out to catch himself. Driver lets go of his hair and Ken thinks the rough handling is over, but a thrill races through him when he realizes that it’s not. There’s the warning sound of the other man’s belt sliding through his belt loops before Ken’s arms are grabbed one after the other and firmly manipulated to be crossed over the small of his back. The leather that pins them into place and bites into the skin of his forearms is warm, heated from being nestled against Driver’s body all day, where Ken should have been if he’d had his way hours ago.

“Wait.” Driver says it as though Ken is a spoiled pet.

Ken sneaks a glance at him. He’s tucked himself back in his jeans, erection be damned, and is moving away from him to draw the cast aside chair back to the table and take a seat. Ken is stunned. A petulant whine builds in his throat until he’s nearly wailing. Driver gives him a flat look that promptly cuts it off. He’s left draped over the broken down, old bed that came with the place. It doesn’t help matters that the blanket and sheets were some untasteful castoffs that Driver had brought back from the thrift store. They were something that Ken would have never chosen because he likes to surround himself with pretty things, but Driver? Driver doesn’t care about the bedding. As he’d told him weeks prior, he wasn’t going to be seeing it or sleeping on it that much anyway; not when there was work and Ken himself to attend to.

All the same, Ken has an admiration for things that he believes are beautiful, and nothing has captivated him the way that Driver does. Even now, the other man is all that he can focus on. He’s lit by bright light that matches the intensity of the heat pooling inside of Ken. Unconsciously, he grinds his hips into the edge of the bed. He falls into a rhythm, seeking relief while he watches the minute shifts in Driver’s expression as he works, the flex of his muscles when he flips the part he’s working on over, the way his fingers delicately make adjustments or pick up a tool. It’s too much and Ken has to close his eyes against the vision imprinting itself into his memories. The bed is creaking a noisy protest against his snapping hips, his mouth is open and he’s pushing out heaving breaths like he’s running a marathon. He’s so close, so, so, so close. If only he wasn’t bound and had a free hand to slip down past his waistband.

His impending orgasm is ruined. Calloused hands are on him in a vicious motion. One is on the back of his neck, the other digging into the meat of his bicep. He’s forced to the floor, too stunned to protest. His face is pushed against the carpet, rubbed in like a dog being unfairly punished for messing on the floor.

“Told you to wait.”

“ I couldn’t. It was too much.” Ken’s breathless and petulant. He’s so hard that he thinks any motion will be enough to send him over the edge.

He gets rolled over onto his back, removing the chance of grinding his pelvis against the floor. His shoulders scream in protest at the treatment. His head is by the foot of the bed. He’s got a good view of the underside of the box spring, the ceiling, the patterned wallpaper, and most importantly; Driver’s face. His eyes look nearly black in the lighting, stark against the planes of his face. He looks one thread away from snapping and devouring Ken whole. Good. He wants to be on the receiving end of that all-consuming desire. He wants to be treated like one of those women in the old black and white dramas that play on the television sometimes; a pretty little thing, teased and manhandled until there’s only smears of mascara and delicate, pleading sobs.

Driver lowers himself to the floor alongside Ken and straddles him, his knees digging into his hips. Ken watches with hooded eyes as he inadvertently shifts against his crotch while reaching behind himself to tug the gloves free from his back pocket. He observes while Driver works those broad hands into the tight confines of the leather. The gloves are such a snug fit that they’re practically a second skin. He must be anticipating needing to have a firm grip on him. He drops back into a fully seated position, heavy against his dick. Ken’s sure that he’s on the verge of soaking through the fabric of Driver’s jeans. The front row visual of seeing the other man’s cock straining hard against his pants zipper has Ken groaning. His fingers clench into fists behind his back. If only he was allowed to touch.

He’s pulled away by thoughts of touching the other man when smooth leather covers and boldly caresses his chest. He arches into the touch, chasing the warm pressure when Driver threatens to remove his hand. He whines brokenly when his nipple gets rolled between the mechanic’s glove-clad fingers. He works him over even after both nipples are swollen and painfully hard. It’s enough stimulation to get tears trickling from the corners of his eyes. Each brush against his sensitive skin sends a stabbing need to his groin.

Every time he attempts to relieve the pressure in the lower half of his body, to rut up against the man astride him, Driver rises onto his knees to take away the maddening contact of his body. He doesn’t even leave his hands on Ken’s chest. It’s exquisite torture and Ken can’t stop the flood of incoherent pleas falling from his mouth.

Finally, Driver has enough of his begging. He grabs Ken’s chin, clamping down hard enough that his jaw aches. It’s a suffocatingly tight grip, but Ken is so desperate for something that he sighs right into it. He nearly goes cross-eyed when Driver points at him warningly.

“You're gonna be quiet. Gonna wait until I say so.”

Ken pushes his luck by defiantly rolling his hips against Driver’s and to his utter shock, receives a stinging slap across the face. The skin over his cheekbone feels hot and tight, faintly throbbing from delayed pain. He can’t help himself and sobs against the ironclad hold still on his jaw. His dick twitches and spurts. He’s sure the man on top of him notices.

“Understand now?” Driver looks vaguely flushed in the low light. He’s unable to sit still, shifting uncomfortably in Ken’s lap with short, jerky movements of his pelvis. Despite telling Ken that he needs to learn to be patient, the other man isn’t very composed himself.

Despite the hold Driver has on him, Ken manages a sincere nod. He’s eager for an overdue reward and the other man doesn’t disappoint. He releases his jaw, pausing to rub his fingers over the bruising skin to ease the ache. Ken’s eyes flutter closed at the pleasant touch and he gives a contented whine when Driver’s hands meet around Ken’s neck. Gloved thumbs overlap in the hollow of his throat. His pulse hammers against those steady palms. He’s dizzyingly breathless despite not being choked when the mechanic leans down to press a kiss against his pliant mouth. The brush of his tongue against Ken’s bottom lip is electrifying and he opens his mouth in a soft gasp. Driver chases the opportunity and Ken gets lost in the sensation of a warm tongue against his, teeth hungrily nipping and worrying his lips into swollen, used things. He mourns the loss of the man’s mouth against his when Driver pulls away as though it’s him that needs to be reminded of his place, taught the lesson of punishment and reward. Ken instinctively leans up to chase after the contact, but the gloved hands around his neck hold him steadily in place. He’ll only receive what Driver gives him.

While he and the other man catch their breath, locked in a holding pattern. Ken is reminded of a less pleasurable sensation plaguing his body. His arms are filled with static and flashes of discomfort. The carpet is failing to provide significant padding and with the additional weight of another body astride him; it hurts. He can’t help but roll his shoulders in the effort to seek relief. His movements do not escape Driver’s attention, and for the first time tonight, an uneasy expression paints his face. His jaw is tense and he looks on the cusp of calling this whole game of theirs off. This evening has been nothing but uncharted territory. Just as Ken has been learning, so has Driver. Despite the quiet confidence he exudes, Ken knows that the wheelman is inexperienced. He’d been wanted by other people in the past, but he’d been too distant to engage with anyone beyond observation and mild (but not insignificant) touches.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to stop,” he says, concern lacing his words despite his clear arousal. The pressure on Ken’s throat is a whisper.

Ken doesn’t want him to stop. He wants to push and push and push until the man snaps. He’s dripping glittery precum and soaking through his thong at the anticipation. It’s exhilarating in a brand new way.

"I can't learn if you stop,” Ken tells him.

Driver nods and takes a deep breath. He shifts slightly, getting comfortable and pulls his intent stare away from Ken. His blue eyes latch onto the television, feigning interest. Ken can’t see it from his position on the floor, but regardless of whatever might be on it, he burns with frustration that Driver is back to ignoring him. If he lays still and doesn’t get impatient, Driver grinds down against him in a way that is too intentional to be absent minded. If he doesn’t remain relaxed, Driver trails a hand, almost tantalizingly, down his neck, over his collarbone, and down to the yielding tissue of his pectoral. The first time it happens, Ken thinks he’s getting a reward but instead, Driver takes his already overstimulated nipple between his fingers and twists hard enough to make him yelp before letting go to roll his toothpick idly between his lips.

Ken can only take so much of this before he whines. “I’ve been good.”

Much to his frustration. Driver doesn’t respond. He’s been edged for so long he’s almost sick with the need to find release.

“Haven’t I been good?” He tries again, a little more desperate. He’s almost hysterical. This earns him a glance and a thoughtful pause before the man speaks.

“Have you?”

Ken nods frantically, chin colliding with Driver’s right wrist where his hand still lays casually resting on his neck. Driver doesn’t respond. Ken’s mind is blown. He’s never been made to wait this long. Driver gives him what he needs when he wants it or shortly after when the moment is more opportune. The other man’s patience lasts for about five minutes before he’s spurred into action. It is how he operates both behind the wheel and in the other areas of his life. Ken can’t help but wonder if Driver feels as tortured as he does in this moment.

“Wanna finish what you started?” The question comes out of nowhere, said casually like the answer is of no real importance.

“Yes. Yes. ” Ken does. He really does.

Driver pops the button of his jeans and lowers the zipper. Ken already feels his mouth watering. They’re right back where they started in what feels like a lifetime ago. Driver’s cock is engorged and ruddy even in the scant light. There’s a drop of precum beading on the tip, threatening to fall onto Ken’s bare abdomen. It trembles precariously as the other blond all but crawls his way up Ken’s body until his thighs are spread wide to bracket his shoulders. Ken swallows thickly. The hands Driver places on either side of his face are almost tender. He presses his thumbs against the corners of his mouth and slips them inside. Ken opens his mouth to welcome the intrusion. The rich, earthy flavor of tanned leather bursts across his tongue when the other man slides his digits in deeper, spreading his jaws wide. He swallows again, his throat clicking.

Driver rocks up slightly. The space between his eyebrows is furrowed slightly in concentration as he aligns the tip of his leaking cock with Ken’s waiting mouth. They share a moment of eye contact. Driver silently checks to make sure he has consent before he presses steadily into the wet heat. The musky taste of the other man consumes all his senses to the point that he hardly notices when Driver removes his hands from his face and puts his forearms on the bed to steady himself and relieve some of the weight on Ken’s body. The bound man closes his eyes and hums encouragingly around the cock resting in his mouth. He relaxes his throat. He wants him to move, to use him. He did use to be a doll, he still wants to be played with.

He gets his desire when Driver plunges deeper and begins fucking into his mouth with steady thrusts of his hips. The sounds they make together are wet and obscene. Driver is breathing hard, teeth gritted. Ken, for his part, is moaning as loudly as he can despite his throat being otherwise occupied. The length brushing over his tongue and diving into his throat makes him wish he could wrap a hand around his own pressing need. He feels pressure building in his gut that only needs a little more encouragement.

A pat against his cheek informs him that the man using him is close. Driver comes with a shudder of his body. He lets out a loud growl as he does. The force of his release nearly chokes Ken and he struggles to swallow. He manages to get the salty load down regardless, he doesn’t want to disappoint. He sucks the slowly softening cock in his mouth, making sure to wring out every last drop the man produces. Driver catches his jaw and eases himself out. Ken’s lungs burn as he greedily sucks in mouthfuls of air.

Driver dismounts, swinging his leg up and over Ken’s body. He’s tucked himself back in his pants, a much easier process now that he’s spent. Ken watches him with hazy eyes when he grabs hold of his waistband and pulls his thong down and off. Relief floods Ken’s body as his straining erection is finally freed from its tight, soaked confines. He forces himself to sit up and to wiggle backwards until he’s propped up against the foot of the bed. He watches Driver pass his tongue over his lips in anticipation of his next few actions. The other man lowers himself to the floor, stomach pressed against the carpet. Ken can’t hold back his whine when he feels Driver’s hot breath on his leaking dick. He nearly thrashes when he feels that leather clad grip encircle the base of his hard cock. The material is immediately coated in traces of glittery liquid.

He’s incapable of muffling the noise he lets out when Driver makes direct eye contact with him and licks his cockhead. He’s almost hyperventilating by the time the other man fully takes him into his mouth and starts working at him with easy flicks of his wrist. The leather catches on the dry swaths of his skin. It’s just on the edge of being painful. He finds that he doesn’t mind the sensation, not when it’s accompanied by Driver’s blue eyes looking up at him in a way that says he needs reassurance that he’s doing a good job.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you .” The praises fall from his lips with each breathless exhale. His thighs are trembling with the effort to not thrust up into the other man’s mouth. The forearm pressing into his hip is a reminder to stay still and let himself be taken care of. Ken doesn’t want to spoil the lesson now. He would probably die if Driver pulled away as a punishment for any perceived impatience.

He gives himself over to the rhythm of Driver’s actions. He gasps out a warning before he comes. The other man pulls away, locking eyes with him as he lets Ken cover his face with his cum. Thick, glittery ropes spray over him. It’s all over his cheekbones and his swollen lips. The fluid is like molten silver, picking up colors from the flickering light of the television.

“Come here. Please, come here.”

Driver obliges him, not pausing to wipe the shining mess from his skin. He guides Ken’s legs further apart to accommodate his mass as he heaves himself off the floor in order to kneel between his spread legs. The restrained man whimpers at the brush of Driver’s shirt covered abdomen against his spent cock as the other man presses in close. They’re nearly nose to nose, Driver’s breath is hot against his lips. Ken bypasses kissing him and swipes his tongue over the other man’s cheek instead. The salty taste of himself mingling with Driver’s sweat sparks a desperation to taste more. He licks Driver’s face clean, laps away every trace of his release but a few stray specks of glitter that will stay with the mechanic for days to come. Driver is still, carefully still, like a surprised predator. There’s a wet, uncertain look in his eyes. He looks as overwhelmed as Ken feels.

He reaches around Ken and undoes the belt holding his arms locked together behind his back. The flood of blood rushing back into his asleep limbs is painful. Static rolls under his skin as his arms come back to life. As soon as the belt is off and tossed to the side, Driver kisses Ken. Hard. He puts his right hand on the side of his face while he devours him, smearing Ken’s own cum on his face from where it still slicks down his gloved hand. Ken is panting and shaking. It’s all he can do to put his hands on Driver’s waist and hold on.

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unicyclehippo · 2 years

Note

Imodna prompt if you fancy it: wire

dawn blooms in the far end of the valley, unfolding, unfurling, and every flower and tree and thing in the valley seems to wake and open up, all blooming, in response; the morning is bright and fresh, bergamot on the wind, and imogen thinks she could actually cry when she blinks up at the blushing sky and realises that she can stretch out, open her palms wide and hold the grass, let little ants trail over her fingers, can relax into the bedroll and just be, without the crashing, crushing noise of any mind for miles. there’s a flicker of discontent at the thought that drags her into wakefulness, but as soon as she turns her head she sees her girl there, laying flat on her back, unnervingly still.

‘laudna?’

her eyelids flicker. imogen curls onto her side to face laudna. she swears the pinks in the clouds get pinker as her knees brush against laudna’s side. apparently she can be fanciful, silly, when she isn’t thinking so hard about keeping everyone out of her head.

‘laudna,’ she says again, and touches a finger to her elbow.

the other girl comes awake in a ghastly fashion: sucks in a rattling breath and sits bolt upright, alert, alarmed. imogen gives her a second to breathe before reaching over and snagging her, yanking her back down.

‘relax, it’s just me.’

‘oh.’ laudna’s eyes flick to her, to the sky, around their empty campsite. back to her. the sunrise glitters in her dark eyes. the pink clouds play such tricks, lending her the blush of life. ‘good morning,’ she whispers. ‘how did you sleep?’

‘good. real good.’ imogen is almost alone, alone save one mind, one she likes being around, and it feels amazing. she’s giddy with it, and when her own mind urges her to shuffle closer to laudna she listens, because it’s her mind and her thoughts and she wants to, she’s been tense as a strung wire lately and she just wants to unwind, and here and now is a moment to linger in. nothing could be wrong on this perfect beautiful morning. ‘no dreams, no one else’s thoughts. real good,’ she says again, nearly groans it, and buries her head in the crook of laudna’s shoulder, flops a lazy arm over her waist.

laudna tenses under her arm, a split second in which imogen doesn’t need to delve into her mind to hear a surprised oh? and then laudna is relaxing, and her cool hands settle on the arm stretched over her, stoke down the flaring, fizzing scars.

‘you have a glove tan,’ she notes idly.

imogen hums. eyes closed, drifting in the cool space laudna brings with her. the morning could spin away from them, the sun could race high overhead, and imogen knows that laudna will be cool like the perfect spot beneath a tree, the shaded canopy, the rich smell of leaves and loam.

‘are we going to sleep in this morning?’ laudna murmurs.

‘for a bit.’

‘any particular reason?’

‘i want to,’ imogen tells her, and a note of shyness, of uncertainty slips unbidden into her tone.

laudna just strokes her arm, her wrist, the back of her hand, her fingers. ‘how lovely,’ she approves, and her head turns, chin knocking against the side of imogen’s head where it is safely, sweetly tucked away in laudna’s shade.

‘what is it?’ she mumbles, weight of laudna’s regard as tangible as her tracing fingers. maddening, wonderful.

‘nothing, darling.’

‘i can hear you thinking,’ imogen reminds her, and rustles closer, thinks not at all as she presses her nose to the column of a fine, pale throat. her lips tingle when she speaks, as if they burn to press closer too. she doesn’t give in, not out of a lack of want but a deep contentedness, wishing for nothing at all to change. ‘what is it?’ she mumbles.

‘i haven’t dreamed in a long time,’ laudna breathes. ‘is this one? it’s lovely.’

‘s’real,’ imogen grunts.

‘oh.’ a kiss, cold, against her hairline. ‘lovely.’

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #imodna my beloveds #i guess pre bells hells

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dragonentusiast · 4 months

Text

BB vs Antagonists Aka alternative endings akaka if Hero wouldn't be lazy and be more aggressive instead.

⚠️ Warning for bad language! ⚠️

The scene in the great hall when the crew found the article about Ivy and her twin.

Daniel: Ivy couldn't have done it!

BB: I don't want to deal with Ivy's ever growing schizophrenia.

Daniel glaring at him.

BB: But I guess I have to.

The scene where Ivy cast evenesco for the first time.

Prof Longbottom: Where did you learn that difficult spell?

Ivy: I...I don't know. I don't...remember.

BB: Well it's pretty convenient that you don't remember too much lately.

Ivy: I don't know what's happening to me.

BB: Oh gee it's either that you are amnesiac, or bear with me for a second, maybe just maybe there is a spell that can wipe out a person's memory? But that would be too inconvenient right?

The gang opens the suitcase

Ivy: Winifred?

Daniel: It must be a Bogart!

BB: Why did you open it in the first place?

BB walking around the Bogart to close the suitcase.

Ivy:....

Daniel:....

BB: Ivy can rediscover herself when I'm not around.

The scene where Cassandra turns Daniel upside down.

BB: Neat trick.

Daniel still struggling: Whose side are you on?!?

BB sighing: Okay okay lemme just...

BB pulls out out a rope and ties Daniel down the right way.

Daniel: Is this your idea of helping?

BB: Nope this is my idea to keep your blood the place it belongs.

BB: By the way this activity is past school time so my shift ends here. Byeeeeee

The history teacher turns out to be a puppet of the antagonist.

BB: I know this is Hogwarts we hire any ex death eater but would it be really too much to ask for a background check before you hire people?

The ending scene.

Lottie is being held hostage.

Bly: One more step and the girl will meet her father sooner than she should.

BB: Ya know if you kill her now we still have the advantage. Like you already killed one person killing another will just gets you more jail time.

Bly:....

BB: Logic people. Logic.

Bly: So...you are okay with me killing her?!?

BB: You missed my point entirely didn't you?

Daniel and Ivy: Hero!

BB: Okay fine loserssaywhat!

Bly: What?

BB: Incendio!

Everyone looking dumfounded.

Daniel: Why did that work?

BB: One he talked so he couldn't cast a spell while doing so. Two: Fastest. Spell caster.

Ivy: At moments like this I actually forget that you are an exceptional dualist.

When the tree is burning and the goblin appears.

Daniel: Don't let him run away!

The goblin run but yelped when he turned around the corner of a house.

Ivy: What happened?

BB who emerged from behind the said corner: A bear trap happened.

Gridley trying to make a deal with Daniel.

BB: So let me get this straight. You have a hostage.

Gridley: Of course but-

BB: She isn't here.

Gridley: Yet.

BB:.....

BB: Then what the actual fuck stopes me from incendioing your ass right here right now.

Gridley: My arms are very long my boy. Besides you couldn't possibly defeat me.

BB: Because of your gloves?

Gridley looking surprised: How did you know?

BB: I know the guy who came up with em. And I have a pair too.

BB proceeds to pull out the same gloves that Gridley was wearing.

Gridley: Well now we both cannot attack each other.

BB forming a fist: I wouldn't say that...

Gridley:...What are you implying?

BB: Square up bitch.

In the end Daniel dragged Hero out of there.

Meeting Eliot Evers.

BB (not at all jealous by the way): Oh when Eliot does it it's sooooo cool but when I do it it's always Hero don't throw Fischer out the window or BB don't cheat in duels or Hero stop throwing hands with a ten year old child.

Eliot: Are you-

BB: Silence bad boy. Trick me once and you can say bye bye to your bones.

In Gridley's van for the finale.

Gridley: I'm getting impatient young Daniel.

BB: You are not even gonna address me. K.

Daniel: I have your key.

BB: I would like to stop you there.

Gridley: You are playing with your friend's sister's life.

BB: Nuh ah.

Gridley: The fuck you mean nuh ah?

BB pulls out a hammer and breaks the table.

Gridley: What kind of Satanic child-

BB: I told you to square up. You thought I would be fighting fair?

Daniel: Hero stop! They are going to kill Esme!!

BB: Oh her? That's not Esme.

Everyone in the room: What?

Esme transforming to a tall man.

Mobius: Hey little one!

BB: Sup dad.

Daniel: Whaaaaaaaat?

Mobius: I monitor Hero even in school so I knew about the whole thing.

BB with the hammer in hand: I don't think you need explanation to why I'm under supervision.

Daniel: Nope. Not at all.

#daniel page #hogwarts magic awakened #hogwarts oc #ivy warrington #harry potter #oc #lottie turner #robyn thistlethwaite #cassandra vole #kevin farrell #fischer frey #colby frey #frey twins

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thebahwrites · 1 year

Photo

MEET MAD JACK & THE HANGMAN

content warning for violence, blood, death

Deft fingers work around the rope with a cleverness that no one else could match — because no one knew the lay of cotton fiber like Mad Jack did. Because no one had the lasso as an extension of their arm like he did. No one. The tedious, perfunctory, well known motion of adjusting the rope and the knots, of building the lasso, was one his heart knew through and through so there was no need for his bleeding mind to focus.

Jack’s eyes were cast down as the man ran ahead, making a poor figure of himself like a desperate animal, like a runaway hare spotted by a falcon, tripping over his feet and rolling over the golden grass under the summer sun. An old tune had found its way into the man’s tongue but he felt lazy about it, dragging the notes lower and slower than how the song originally came up to him, he couldn’t quite recall its name. Maybe some nursery rhyme from what felt like a lifetime ago... even if Jack himself was just gently past into the age of manhood.

He knows he’s being watched, too. The gunslinger by his side hasn’t said a word through all of it but he doesn’t have to, those deep brown eyes speak for themselves, he doesn’t understand. But at least Brodie lets him know as much.

“He’s running away.”

“I know.” Jack hums in response, gloved hands still working on the rope, twisting the knots on one end, returning to his whistled tune.

“He’s gonna get away.” The other man insists, face turning to the runaway who’s a pitiful sight as he’s barely able to stand under the Mississippi scorching sun.

“Nah,” Jack drawls, dropping the tune as the threaded jute slides against the soft leather of his work gloves, unfeeling fingers that even after having lost all sensibility still know by heart how every thread feels, through leather and scarring; and his eyes finally settle on the man. “He ain’t.”

"I thought you were gonna kill him.” Brodie’s words are almost careful, clipped, unsure of what he’s asking - he isn’t an unsure man but he’s smart enough to have learned his way around Jack. Or whoever Jack became in these moments. “Ain’t that what you dragged me all the way here for—?”

There’s no answer for the gunslinger because instead, Jack Seresin gives all the way for the darkness inside his heart and mind. He tugs on to the blonde horse’s reigns and clicks his tongue, the chase is afoot. Though it’s not truly a chase because it doesn’t last nearly enough, not when their fugitive is a man who can barely stand and his hunter on horseback. Like a falcon to a hare, he circles, forces the man to change courses a couple times... not for any reason but the satisfaction that cruelty brings him. It makes his chest bubble with laughter, the rope slides so easily through his hand, dyed bright red jute weaving a beautiful bow and arc in the air before the lasso finds its way right around the running man’s neck. A red ring promising Death but not delivering it just yet.

Men were animals, after all.

There’s no difference between a calf or a horse or a human when it comes to a few things, one of them being death. But the red lasso’s song isn’t quite done for now; it’s the moment of a crescendo; the man gargles and chokes but Jack knows better than to end his tune before the climax of his piece, no. He clicks his tongue again and his horse takes up on a more gentle pacing, almost a patterned gait towards the singular tree atop that hill. That very calculated spot he had chosen for his victim to die, under the eyes of God, so the two of them would be held to their actions. This condemned man for killing before and Mad Jack for killing now.

If the man walks or is dragged behind the horse, the former rancher doesn’t register it, can’t find it in himself to care. “It ain’t very efficient, you know.”

He’s always been so talkative, it’s hard not to talk now even though his thoughts are somewhat painful. Hard to focus. There’s the voices and the shadows and the fears and the blessings, memories that didn’t quite make sense anymore and some that he wasn’t so sure were real, like dreams that disguised themselves as memories. “To hang someone after you already done roping their neck, it takes a lot longer than a proper hanging, cause you see... the thing ‘bout hanging is the sudden weight of the body to snap the person’s neck, ‘s quite humane, if you think about it.” It makes him smile, the array of thoughts that follow. It’s a funny thought, a quippy joke, along with the thought of a quick and mostly painless death. It’s humorous and lovely, to the way his mind, now too loud and too scratched, felt. Thoughts were painful, were too many, as well. “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you? Cause even if takes a while, most folks don’t really survive being hanged, if it don’t break your neck, it suffocates you anyway.”

It’s a little lectured, as he throws the loose end of the rope over the main branch of that green Magnolia tree. “Well this is a much nicer one than you deserve but we all get our small mercies.”

Jack dismounts the horse, the tied man is shaking, heavy breathing, crying on his knees... and yet he feels nothing but euphoric joy; yet when that dies, he’ll go back to feeling nothing at all. What a wonderful thing, to not have a heart.

“Jack, this isn’t you.” His mother tells him, standing right by his side, still in her beautiful white and yellow dress. If only that gunshot hole right through her mid didn’t stain the beautiful cotton. He smiles bashfully back at her, like a child being admonished, while tying the rope at Blondie’s saddle.

“Sorry mama, you were the one to tell me, I gotta finish what I start.” He pats the kneeling man’s shoulder sympathetically. “You oughta finish your prayers now.”

Tugging at Blondie’s reigns, it could almost be a leisure stroll as she stalks forward and lifts the man’s body in the air, beautifully so, suddenly the sounds of gargling and choking and crying become more and more broken and to Jack all he can do is laugh. It sounds like music to his ears.

#oc: crazy jack #not my oc: brodie #my writing #long post #into the west au #oc writing #//idk this turned into a little writing warmup #//that got a bit longer

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fellpyrean · 1 year

Text

I said I love writing corruption & Jon and I am not lying. A little snac.

Baby Jon makes a new friend. (touches of post-canon) 1100 words.

___________

Jon has always seen weird things. Too much, he thinks sometimes. Like he’s in one of those bad stories, the ones he doesn’t like to read because they make part of him feel bad, like he can imagine it if he just lets himself - like he could maybe imagine what it’s like to dance on a puppet’s strings, to feel hot, hungry breaths and the snap of sharp teeth on his neck, like he knows the shadows can reach up from under a bed and just make someone be gone.

He’s seen the shadows dance.

He’s seen a man walk into the fog on the dock and never come back.

He’s seen a person who wasn’t pull on their skin like a glove and wiggle the plastic below and knew if he hadn’t darted off and hid when he did, that those wrong wrong fingers would have dragged him away. He heard them laugh. He smelled them when they walked by, something sharp and bright in their hand, heard their hollow voice speak words he knew but shouldn’t and when he came home, gran didn’t believe him.

She said it was a costume.

She said the spiders couldn’t sing or eat people and neither could books and eyes in pictures can’t really watch him.

She lies a lot.

He doesn’t think she means anything bad by it, but he knows it’s all true and he sees it all right there, every day, but nobody else does. The mirror thinks it’s funny. Jon doesn’t like the mirror much. It’s a bad friend.

… But it’s still a friend. Jon doesn’t have a lot of those.

He sees too much and he scares people. Not the things he sees, though. The mirror isn’t afraid of him. The spiders aren’t either.

And… not the moth.

He’s not seen it before. It sits on his windowsill, big as his hand and so fluffy and fat it reminds him of a puppy. It’s not really a moth. He can’t see the truth of it because the truth is just too big, but he can hear the song in the gentle jitter of its wings and knows it has too many voices for one moth. It sits and it sits and Jon watches it.

Just watches.

It smells too sweet, like a warm, happy home a-and his stomach turns even if he doesn’t know why.

Being home is a bad thing, maybe.

But the moth doesn’t move. It just sits and sings and Jon… relaxes.

When it rains, he holds his breath and reaches around and above it to close the window and it steps forward like a lazy cat, like its little clawed feet can’t possibly carry its ponderous weight and Jon can’t stop his giggling. Its antennae twitch like big fluffy ferns in a breeze and its song trills like a laugh and its wings flutter like it’s having fun and. And Jon thinks maybe, it wants to be his friend, too.

The rain patters against the old, empty house - gran would be back before dinner, Jon knew, but he misses before - and Jon holds his book in his lap. It tap-taps against the windows, plunks on the rooftop, splashes and ripples in the puddles in the garden. And.

He cocks his head.

There’s something else.

Under the puddles. Down in the dirt, he hears a quiet, gentle song. Muffled, but happy. Moist and full and wriggling in the dark; in tunnels and tunnels, a million more voices in unison, working working working. A stranger song waits under the bushes in the wet corners of the yard - like strings and pipes in a great big web, waiting and waiting for their chance to come up and sprout and Jon gasps as he sees cottony white mushrooms pop up from the earth. Knows there are so many more, singing their own songs and just waiting waiting, loving.

They are all so strange and different and so full, full of love.

His eyes open in tears he doesn’t understand and he sees the moth.

It’s singing. Its wings flutter, powdery soft as it sits on the corner of his book, and he can hear it.

We would love you, it says, in words that shift and writhe and purr.

All you ever wanted was to be loved. To not be left alone.

We would always be there for you, it murmurs.

It is fat and heavy, its abdomen swollen and furred. And Jon knows how heavy it must really be. How full, how cold.

How it longs for a home.

(He misses home, too.)

Jon’s chest hurts. He knows his face is probably a mess, and he hiccups into his arm as he tries to scrub it clean on a sleeve.

He doesn’t like to be alone.

He does want friends. Friends who would listen when he sees weird things and love him even if he’s weird - and he must be, because isn’t it only the weird things that like him?

The moth places a delicate claw on his hand.

It still smells kind of bad. Like old potpourri, maybe, in a dusty old dish.

We would love you the way your patron never could have. Know you and love you as you are.

Isn’t that what you want?

It’s heavy on his hand. Its little claws scratch at his skin, poke so gently as it looks up at him with those dark, dark eyes.

We would be a home, all of us, together.

There’s a knock at the door.

It’s not his bedroom door, it’s no door in his house, but somewhere else, and it jolts him out of the song. Something is watching him. Watching him so hard he thinks maybe he missed a picture, but no. They’re all turned away, but he still feels it.

The moth wobbles on his hand as he sucks in a breath and places it gently, slowly back on the windowsill. Its song still twines between the raindrops. Still whispers and crawls beneath the leaves, slithers in the warm wet.

It’s the sound of love.

Jon lets out a shaky, wibbly breath and tries not to wipe off his hand on his pants as he smiles at the big, fat moth.

“I can’t be a home for you,” he says. More words crowd up on his tongue, struggling to burst out, but he swallows them down.

The weight of being watched lays heavy across his shoulders. He doesn’t know how good it can listen, but he knows it can see what he does so he tucks his hands in his pockets.

And he speaks in a voice almost as small as its smallest song.

“Not yet.”

(He doesn’t want to be alone.

Not again.

He is too small to hold them. But he can still hear their love. Each iridescent note, spun in buzzing, wonderful voices, dripping so sweetly upon his tongue.

He would gladly drown in their promises.

After all, he laughs, cold and aching, wouldn’t it be better this way? To be devoured by something that loves him?)

#crowswritings #tma #jon sims #i just get such haha brain worms when i write corruption stuff #anyway this was to shake off rust today since it's been a couple weeks since i've written anything #i will continue to sell my post-canon jon would be very vulnerable to the corruption!!!#yeah the lonely but the corruption is such a perfect opposite to it that i feel it would be so so so easy for him to fall right into it #look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't want so badly to be loved #also selling my mirror spiral agenda #i have a lot of agendas

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indeedaesies · 1 year

Text

4/4/23

Cultures in any working industries is stupid & ridiculous.

Everyone rushes & competes who can carry the boss’s balls the highest. Boss takes advantage of his position and literally behaves like the biggest asshole on this planet.

I just got FUCKED by the worst boss I’ve ever worked for and his work bitch, aka The Manager. They’re quite well known in the company as Clown 1 & Clown 2. All for an MC that I had received from a certified doctor as I was diagnosed with Influenza B, a contagious disease and somehow almost everyone in my timeline is getting it in Singapore now. New covid? I was still not well yet I wore my mask and dragged myself to work as I did not want my colleague to be on shift alone, KNOWING how that felt like. Only to be fucked as early as 0830 on a Sunday morning.

Could not wait till work ended? Oh that’s right - coming from “the boss” who works everyday where he comes in at 0800 and fuck any nurse who arrives later than him, has time for exercises in between consults, goes for a two hour break unbothered, goes of as early as 3 or sometimes earlier, complains and bitches when he has to do a procedure for the patients, find faults with nurses, beats the patients up, does surgery without sterilised gloves contaminating everything, sides with his entitled clients who lies to his nurses but comes up with bullshit stories for him and when nurses try to clarify and explain themselves, he takes it as talking back and will make your life hell.

Oh, & lets not forget the work bitch - comes in the latest among all the nurses, dont even bother helping anyone with any treatments in the morning, sits at the front every single shift and claim “as the manager I need eyes everywhere so being at the reception is where I need to be to know everything”, has no idea everyone at work hates her, make so much promises but delivers nothing, turn the nurses and doctors against one another, telling me “as the new manager you should not join in the bitching” but bitches the most, act like someone you can trust behind the boss’s back but immediately give a whole new charade in front of him, acts nothing like a leader, purely lazy, throws the phone to other nurses who are having their breaks when clearly she is supposed to be the one mending the phone as per a receptionist does, will literally talk shit non stop, extremely bias, bitched about a nurse and claiming she wants to terminate her just because this nurse’s mom is a kidney dialysis patient and needs to be sent for treatments, hits patients too, really not around as she is busy chain smoking her lungs out, also leaving work as soon as the boss goes home.

I swear to god, this company’s a J O K E. These two clowns tell clients their pets are safe with us. THEY ARENT, especially not with these two mother fuckers who really, I do not understand why the fuck are they in this industry. Patients are being left ALONE overnight but these two clowns will tell clients “there will always be a nurse to take care of your pet overnight”. NO, there IS NOT! Coming to 5 months, I have seen 4 patients DIE overnight as there was NO NURSE OR VET to take care of them. My heart breaks every single fucking day. I vowed never to work for a company that does this shit and fuck me I was just desperate and an idiot to think I could change this place for the better. These two mother fuckers are inhumane. I saw once the boss CHOKE a motherfucking corgi with the leash because he was fierce. I had it handled, I was already restraining the corgi and this piece of shit grabbed his leash and held him in the air. I had to yell to tell him to stop. That corgi was so afraid. I have seen this monster castrate a cat when the cat was not even down yet all because he was in a “hurry”. I cried and I prayed for the cat because I was useless, I was a nobody and that was all I could do, help the cat recover from such a traumatic experience.

I try my best every single day, to do what I do best and that is to save animal lives. Help them. Be their voice. Make them comfortable. Everything that happens in this clinic goes against everything I believed in.

On that unfateful morning, while getting yelled at by the two clowns, all that went through my head was what would happen if I were to snap? My boss told me “i paid you your full salary to do your job” and tell me clearly what the fuck have i been doing all these months then? Come in to work and open my fucking legs and sit on my ass all day? He told me “I cannot work with you anymore, you took more medical leave than I did through my career. Go find a company that will tolerate this and do not tell me I am unfair” That’s rich coming from someone who is so full of it? Like I wouldnt come to work every single day if I get to not work, pass my surgeries and procedures to my nurses and other vets, go for undisturbed breaks and leave before 4 everyday? And Ive been slogging for them and this was my very first long medical leave BECAUSE OF A VIRUS MIND YOU.

Then coming from the work bitch “You can kiss your manager post goodbye, there is no way I can handover this position to you, this is unacceptable” - well funny how this is coming from someone who is not even FIT to lead a team. Also, I have already mentally checked out the managerial post as I have bigger plans coming my way and that is to get the fuck out of this company ASAP.

All for a medical leave. They know it is illegal to terminate me as MOM will not allow it, so here they are making it unbearable for me.

Dont get me wrong, the other doctors and nurses are amazing. I am really close to them as I bothered to get to know them. I took the time to hear them. I try my best to be there for them or help them. I understood what they go through. No matter what happens outside work, I still come to work every time with a smile on my face and make it worthwhile for everyone. But these two pieces of shit - in it for other reasons. And I do not know, for the first time in my life, what to do next.

All I know is, they can try their very best to get me to quit on my own accord but too bad, I am a survivor. I have been through shits after shits to be who I am today. They want me gone, they’ll have to give me a payout. Funny how this bitch is telling me all these bullshits to put on a good show for him when she’s the one that confirmed me as a permanent staff on my second month and even increased my salary. All because of a medical leave that I was entitled too. Amazing right?

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babygirldior · 2 years

Text

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Christian Pulisic x Reader

Summary: In which Mason's sister takes a liking to a certain American, but has to keep it a secret because Mason would absolutely not approve.

A/N: i wrote this at 1 in the morning and it took less than an hour and has not been proofread so let's not think too hard abt it xx

You like to think it started at the beginning, when Mase dragged you to Cobham one day to introduce you to his teammates. It started with sneaked glances, whispers in locked rooms, it started with gloves with initials stamped on them.

You follow him through the big glass doors of the training centre, and it’s too cold, it’s November and it’s freezing, and your breath comes up in clouds in front of your face. You let Mason tug you after him, because he’s all bright smiles, and he’s your big brother after all.

The boys take you in immediately. They treat you like one of their own and you are, you’re a blue because the name Mount is stamped onto your back like a medal. You’re Chelsea to the core and then some.

When you think back to today, you’ll remember him, before you remember anyone else.

You know who Christian Pulisic is, you would know even if Mase didn’t talk about his friend every day. He’s jogging up and down the lines, neck warmer pulled just over his chin.

His hair is longer than you expected but it looks good, it curls around his ears and gets in his eyes and he has to push it back with gloved hands. His beard is grown out a little as well, and you’re not sure what Mason is saying in your ear, the man on the pitch has all of your attention.

You try your best to pull your eyes away from him, but then the sun hits him just right; and his dark hair is a blazing auburn and he’s brilliant, he’s shining, he’s glittering, he’s Christian Pulisic and he’s looking over at you with a smile. He looks amazing. He looks more than amazing.

“The gaffer needs to talk to me, can someone show her around?” Mase says to no one in particular.

“I will,” Christian says, his voice high and loud. “I can take her.”

Mase raises his eyebrows and nods, shrugging, already heading off and leaving you in Christian’s hands.

“Any place you want to see in particular?” Christian asks, jogging over, tugging his sleeves down over his hands.

“No,” You say, and you pretend his presence isn’t giving you butterflies. Pretend he doesn’t make you blush when he gives you his big brown eyes. “No, anywhere is fine.” And what you really want to say is, I would follow you anywhere.

He nods, and then he’s taking your hand and tugging you along with a knowing smile and cheeks blotchy and pink from the cold.

“Your hands are freezing.”

His hand is warm, his smile is warm. He’s so warm, he must be on fire. He must be. And you’re cold, and he feels this, and he slides his gloves off his hands and gives them to you. They have CMP embroidered in between the thumb and the index on each, and you act like you don’t notice it. They’re still warm from his hands.

It started here, with gloves too big for your hands. It started with his initials on you.

𖥻 ✿• ℘*｡✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

It continues because Mase is taking everyone out to a club after a well-deserved win.

The music is loud, loud enough it makes the drink in your glass tremor. One shot turns into five, and you find yourself in front of a certain dark-haired American. Chris leans against the bar, a lazy smile on his face.

His chain catches the light just right, a simple silver one with a cross on it that he got from his mother. His hair is fluffed and he’s wearing khaki shorts. He looks nothing like the man on this pitch. He’s soft eyes and toothy smiles, gin and tonic and too pretty for his own good. And you want to reach out and touch him, hold him, see if he’s real.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks. He’s got a drop of gin on his bottom lip and you flick it away with the pad of your thumb. He doesn’t try to stop you. He just looks down at you with inky eyes and you look back at him.

“I would enjoy myself more if you’d dance with me.” He laughs when you point back to the packed dance floor.

“I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances.” But you make it back to the dance floor alone.

There are bodies all around you, and sweat pools under your chin, but you let yourself get lost in the music. It’s too bright to see when someone pushes up against your back, whispering something in your ear in a language you don’t speak, his words punctuated by foreign syllables.

And you’re just starting to have fun, just starting to push back against the man behind you when he’s shoved to the side with an angry yelp and replaced by someone else. Familiar hands find your waist, and to his credit, the man before Christian walks off without a word.

His hands are too big on your waist, and he holds you like you’re porcelain. He holds you like he doesn’t want to break you, like he doesn’t know how much you want him to.

“I thought you said you don’t dance?”

“Everyone dances, I guess.”

You let out a hum before turning to face him. The room is dark and blurry, and you’re not sure if it’s from everything you’ve drank or not. You can just make out the freckles, dark on his cheeks.

The music is so, so loud, and you’ve had a little too much to drink, and really, your actions aren’t your own and you shouldn’t be held accountable for them.

Christian looks too good, and you are not a saint.

His lips taste like beer and you’re sure yours aren’t much better.

It continues with drunken kisses that don’t count, with music that hurts your ears, and hands replacing hands.

“Your brother will kill me if he sees us.”

“Then take me somewhere he won’t see us.”

Christian makes a noise somewhere in between a hum and a whine, and nods.

You're both screwed if Mason finds out. He would kill both of you, he would. But Chris' arms feel so good wrapped around your waist, his smile makes your knees week, and you can't bring yourself to care.

Chris holds you late at night and you think, fuck the consequences, and hook your leg over him and pull him closer.

𖥻 ✿• ℘*｡✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

Football, you say, with your coastal Portsmouth drawl that you know he can't stand. He's American, he says things like, saw-kur, I'm gunnuh go play saw-kur with thuh boys. And he talks like your brother and his teammates sometimes, but these usually come in the lucid hours between late night and early morning. Things he probably isn't even aware he's saying, his words punctuated with his deep American lilt.

He's beautiful when he plays.

The bleachers are hot and sticky and sweat pools under your thighs, you can't imagine what it's like on the pitch.

It's insulting, you tell yourself. It’s insulting to see him out on the pitch, to see how pretty he looks under the sun and to know everybody else in the stadium and in front of their TV can see him as well. It’s insulting to have to share someone who’s all for you.

You want to keep him for yourself, his dark, messy hair and shining eyes, with arms so strong and toned, legs long and built for his sport, a smile so bright it hurts you to look at him. His skin is pale and easy to bruise, and tattoos cover scars that have gone white and bruises that have turned dark purple and yellow.

His neck gleams with sweat and on some days you have to press your nose hard into his skin to smell his cologne, and you take comfort in knowing that nobody watching him right now will ever be able to do that to him the way you do, the way you will tonight.

Nobody on the pitch will hear his voice when he talks late at night, with light noises and breathy words, and how when he whispers his voice tapers off like he’s asking a question.

He's one of the best players you've ever seen. On your screens he’s clear, you can see every detail of emotion on his face, see the way he bares his teeth to the world and knots his eyebrows and pushes and shoves and snarls. It’s different from the stands, and when you look at him from your seat you sees youth, brilliance, so much talent packed into one man. You see nimble hands, fluffed hair, highlighter blue and legs built for running. You see black and grey on his arm and you see the way his head tilts back and he bares himself to the sky.

He pulls his bottle up to his mouth and you pretend to be watching Mason instead of the way the water drips down his chin as he swallows.

Chris looks up in your direction and smiles when he finds you, but he's too far away that you don't see it.

𖥻 ✿• ℘*｡✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

He finds you when the game is over, sitting down next to you in the tunnel when all the cameras are gone and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He’s sweaty, his skin is hot and wet on yours, and you wouldn’t even let Mase put his sweaty arms around you so you don’t understand why you don’t care that Chris is doing it.

“That was a good game. You played well.”

“Thank you.” He laughs like he doesn’t believe it. He’s just being kind, but you mean it. You mean it and you’ll keep meaning it until he understands it.

He tastes like the mint gum he's always chewing and ready to pass out to anyone that asks. He tastes like victory champagne and your chapstick. You pull him in by his chain and you don't let go until he does.

"Mase could see us."

"I want him to."

His eyes blow wide. He smiles like he's never had anything to smile for before, and kisses you again.

His lips slot perfectly between yours. You want to stay in this moment with him forever, but a familiar voice pulls you out of your bubble.

"Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?"

You wish you could say you're regretting saying you want Mason to see you kissing his best friend, but Christian smiles down at you and you don't.

It doesn't end, not just yet.

#christian pulisic #premier league #soccer #football #champions league #football imagine #football fanfic #christian blog #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic x reader #footballer x reader #football blurb #football imagines #chelsea fc

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iovchlde · 3 years

Text

the little things.

what are the little things that they do to show that they love you?

featuring zhongli, xiao, childe

author’s note.

another headcanon that was long overdue OOPS. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for so long and i was just like 🙂 it’s about time i stop being lazy

zhongli

zhongli is a great storyteller, and you never fail to remind him of that fact. but as you two bask in the presence of one another, he’ll find himself looking forward to listening to you.

it’s become routinely at this point— at the end of the day, zhongli would invite you to sit with him at a place the oversees the sea of clouds. whether it’s for tea or casual chatter, it was always something you’d both looked forward to at the end of the day.

he likes listening to you ramble on about your day. like how you saw this one gorgeous glaze lily on the way to qingce village, or how you’ve come across that one breathtaking waterfall. you tell him that you’d like to bring him there, and he finds him nodding along, with a burning sensation at the tips of his ears.

he’s glad that the sun is no longer there, and the yellow shade the light casts hides his blush. but if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that your face was flushed red too.

zhongli can’t help but throw a subtle glance your way as he takes a sip from the cup of tea in his hands, lingering for a second too long before he finally tears away. your gaze is distant— your eyes trained on the sea, and your face is placed comfortably into the palm of your hand. on days like these, he knows you have a lot on your mind, and he’s more than willing to listen to them.

“mind sharing your thoughts?” he asks quietly, his voice low and only loud enough for you to hear. there’s a beat of silence as it snaps you out of your line of thinking, cocking your head to the man in front of you, and it’s your turn to look at him. he holds your gaze tenderly; there’s something about the way it’s late and the way the space suddenly felt so intimate. and so you both look away before you could register the flutter of adoration in your chests.

“well,” you hum, and you resort to idly twirling the spoon in the cup of tea. a part of you felt childish that you couldn’t even look at him properly. feeling like a teenager facing their first crush, like a teenager confessing to their first crush. you’d been mulling over asking him to accompany you to your favorite spot, but the words always got caught in your throat whenever you saw him, and so you’d found yourself stalling. “i was just thinking about this one waterfall— it’s far off in qinqce village— and it’s my favorite place to visit whenever i just need time to myself. but,” and you trail off.

“but?” he raises a brow at you, urging you to continue whatever you wanted to say. there’s a hesitance that lingers behind your eyes, and you almost back down and scrap the idea.

but rather, you clear your throat awkwardly, staring hard at the scene ahead of you. “i’d like you to accompany me there one day. i’d like to share a special place with you.”

the words— zhongli likes to stop himself from looking deep into words, but he can’t help but feel a little flustered the longer he thinks about what you’ve said. in actuality, it’d been only about three to four seconds since you’d said it to him, but his mind was quick to absorb. “oh,” he says.

you’re about to retract your words, taking his one-word answer as a form of rejection, before he interferes.

“it’d be a pleasure of mine to share a special place with you too.”

xiao

a man not known for his affection— but is the type to hold your hand as you sleep. he’ll make sure that you’re deep in slumber before threading his fingers between yours, and smiling to himself at the feel of your hands against his.

as an adeptus, xiao doesn’t need to sleep much. but he has enough understanding to know that you, a human mortal, needs sleep to function properly.

he doesn’t know when he’d started doing it, but he’ll often find himself holding your hands when you’re fast asleep. there’s the erratic thump of his heart in his chest, and his pulse beats abnormally hard, and he feels a little giddy— the idea of you catching him flusters him to no end.

whenever you stir in your sleep, he’ll freeze. for a moment, he’d be too afraid to look at your face, in fear that you’d have an eye peered open; in fear that you’d catch him. but when he does glance at you, he’ll let out a sigh of relief when he sees that you’re still asleep.

it was one of those nights. he’d felt particularly lonely, a part of him felt hollow and bare, and he had nothing better to do. you were fast asleep, and your soft snores could be heard behind him, as he sits upon the windowsill across from the bed.

xiao moves silently, dragging a chair along with him, and seating himself beside you. your hands are dangling loosely at the edge of the bed, and he smiles a little to himself— glad that he doesn’t have to make much of an effort to hold your hand. cautiously, his hands would draw nearer to yours, until the tips of his fingers are ghosting your skin.

(he’d noted to peel his glove off of his hands, afraid that the cool feel would shock you awake, which was a less-than-desirable outcome.)

slowly, he’d thread his fingers with yours, taking as much time as he could. he relished in the way your hands fit so nicely with his, or the way your hands subconsciously molded itself with his as he comfortably holds it. it’s warm— a contrasting feel to the slightly cold room.

he admires your hands, and he can’t help but stare. xiao wonders how it would look like with a ring on your finger, how much prettier it’d be with a shiny band adorning your fingers.

little does he know, you smile a little as you feel his grasp tighten softly on your hand.

childe

childe’s not home often, due to the demands of being a harbinger, and so he does his best to make every minute worth it when he has a day off. he’ll wake up early in the morning to cook breakfast for you, and if possible, serve it to you in bed.

it’s hard to ignore the enticing smell that sifts through the crack underneath the door— even in your half-asleep state, you could tell that childe was cooking another one of his favorite snezhnayan breakfasts. it was something he looked forward to showing off, whenever he had the day free from work.

it’s not long before childe is peeking his head through the door, his hair messy and lazy smile plastered on his face, with a tray of food in his hands. it’s a meal for two, something you note as you see two glasses placed on the tray.

you’ll insist on doing the dishes after eating, but childe simply traps you in his arms after setting the tray aside. there’s no way he’s letting you out of his arms— at least not for another hour or so, and that’s only if he has something planned.

“good morning, love.” you can hear childe’s slightly groggy voice call out from the door to the bedroom. you shift over in your bed, turning to your other side so you would face him, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see a tray full of food placed in his hands. there’s a grin on his face as he saunters over to you— a grin that was either proud or smitten, it was hard to tell.

“what’s this?” you ask, as he places the tray in front of you. the bed dips slightly as he sits in front of you, his legs crossed, carefully not to nudge the tray and spill anything over. there are dishes you’re not familiar with, but it’s hard to deny that they look appetizing. “it looks amazing, though.”

“thank you,” he responds back brightly. he takes his time pointing out each dish in detail, telling you fond memories that he associates with the dish; things like how it reminds him of his childhood, or how it made him feel better on days he didn’t feel so well. he has a different reason this time, a different reason just for you. “i made this dish because i wanted you to associate it with something good— a good memory of us!” childe beams, and you can’t help the fond chuckle that escapes past your lips.

“thank you,” you tell him softly, reaching across the tray and holding his hands with care. “this means a lot to me, you know?”

and in that moment, he thinks he doesn’t mind doing this for the rest of his life— as long as you stay by his side.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #genshin childe #genshin zhongli #genshin xiao #childe fluff #xiao fluff #zhongli fluff

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

Jealous Bird (Smut)

Jealous! Hawks x Reader

Warnings: sexual themes, strong language, feral Hawks, rut, unprotected sex, and a jealous birb, 18+ only please! :D

If you’d like the fluff version and not the smut, you can go here! ➪ Fluff <3

“Mornin’ chicken wing. What’re we doin’ for breakfast? I paid last time so this is allll on you.” Hawks sent a playful wink towards you as he landed beside you from his previous place in the air, holding his hand up and rubbing his index and thumb together as a sign he wanted you to pay. You rolled your eyes and rose your hand, mocking him. “Don’t forget who spent hours doing YOUR paperwork because a certain birdbrain was too lazy to do it.” Hawks held up his hands in defeat and slumped over, sticking out his bottom lip, over exaggerating his facial expressions. He whined and let his wings droop. “C’mon just one more time? Pretty please with your favorite pretty bird on top?”

“Stop dragging your wings, you’re gonna get them dirty.” You scolded and pat his back, slightly feeling how tense his shoulder were. You were about to offer to give him a massage later, not wanting your friend to have to sleep tonight with stiff muscles until you noticed something. His wings were almost glowing a whole new shade now. Such a vibrant and beautiful color. It was then realizing how close you were that you could hear a faint cooing bubbling from his throat. “...? The fuck are you doing Hawks?” He looked over confused and tilted his head. You grumbled at his lack of knowing exactly what he was doing. “Do you even have complete control over your body? You don’t even realize you’re whistling and cooing like some pigeon.”

You completely missed the pissed off look that crossed his face at your comment. He plastered on a cheeky smile and put his hands behind his back, picking his wings off the ground and tucking them firmly behind his back. “Nah, sometimes my bird-side comes out, especially during spring. God I go fuckin’ crazy. Sometimes it’s early and I have to take a whole week off a work!” You looked up to a couple trees you both passed while you were walking to your usual breakfast place, KFC —Although you always debate you want to go somewhere else. It was late winter, very close to spring, about March. You never kept up with the date. “Why do you take a whole week off?”

“People with animal quirks like me would understand. Just like Mirko! Haha, I’m sure she’s the worst right now bein’ it’s early March!” He laughed and put his hands out, his hands snaking into his pockets to firmly stick there. You pouted, wanting to know exactly what Hawks was talking about. You told Hawks everything, but he didn’t give you the same treatment. “I’ll just ask Mirko later then if you refuse to tell me.” Hawks quickly wagged his finger side to side in front of your face, his other hand being placed on his hip now. You were familiar with his body language and how much he loved using his hands. “Nah ah, chicken wing. You do that and she’s gonna pounce on you. You won’t see light for days!”

“Mirko has accidentally jumped on me before, it’s not like we haven’t sparred before! I can withstand some punches and kicks!” Hawks sulked again, his hands digging back into his pockets, displaying his annoyance that you weren’t listening to him. He just looked away and shrugged his shoulders back. “Just trust me, kiddo. It’d be for the best you didn’ see Mirko, especially at a time like this. I know how she feels.” You were starting to get irritated at his lack of response to your question, only dodging it and making you sit in suspense. Finally you gave up and decided to bring it back up later. “I’m just gonna stop asking, you’re obviously not gonna answer me are you?”

“Haha! Nope! You know me too well, (Y/N).” You both arrived at KFC, immediately greeted by the manager and many of Hawks’ fans who knew he came there a lot. Many asked for his autograph or a selfie, but he refused politely. “I’ll do some after I get some chicken! I’m starved!” Super fans offered to even pay for his food, to which he declined, saying that you were kind enough to have already offered to pay for his food. A total fat lie! He begged you to pay! You sent him a glare and proceeded just to order both your meals while Hawks spoke with his fans. “Well, guess I can start now! Who’s first?” After he saw you were paying and ordering, he began to sign autographs and take selfies that would no doubt be on social media in minutes.

“Man! I sure do have a lot of supportive and loyal fans! Must suck never bein’ noticed.” Hawks passively insulted your rank as a pro hero by taking a jab at your ranking. You were somewhere in the mid thirties. Not popular at all, especially in this part of Japan where Hawks was born. “At least I have fans who aren’t thirsty for me! Getting all wet and horny at night thinking of their hero Hawks taking them from behind~” You smirked and rose your hands shrugging your shoulders, before hugging yourself. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and squirming with a dreamy smile, mocking his thirsty fan girls. “Oh Hawks! Please I’ll do anything for you! Take me! Oh please fuck my sopping pussy with your big fat cock til I can’t move anymore! Mm! Cum inside me! Let me bare your kids!

You didn’t notice the way his wings trembled and his face reddened, his avian eyes widening as he watched you speak so lewdly. He shook it off quickly before he got out of control and leaned forward towards you smirking. “At least I have fans thirstin’ for my cock~ haven’t heard of anyone wantin’ your boring ass!” He gave a closed eye smile and brought his hands up to give you a big fat thumbs down. Your eye twitched and you remained silent, not having a comment. That was until you remembered a villain hitting on you not too long ago. “Well at least I’ve had a villain fawn over me! I can still remember it clearly! ‘Oh fuck, I would turn good to get a piece of that ass!’”

This time you noticed how his brows furrowed, and his wings fluffed up, almost as if he just had a whole shiver rake through his body. “When was this?” He asked, his head now resting in his right hand, staring intently. You thought about it for a minute, before taking a wild guess. “Ehh, about like a couple months ago.” This only put him in a more sour mood. You didn’t understand why he was acting so strange. Maybe it was what you talked about? Obviously you’d never talked about anything sexual with Hawks, but on the topic of thirty fans aching for him, you wanted to make jokes since he was always mocking you and making sly insults. “Sorry... I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. Well... it kinda is.” He admitted afterwards and smirked at you teasingly as if you would already know it was your fault. You frowned, about to open your mouth again before they called your number to get your food. You sighed and stood from your seat, walking over to the counter and retrieving the food, however, you were stopped by a man. He was young, about nineteen or twenty, quite handsome. “Excuse me miss, this may sound really straightforward and all but, you’re really pretty, and I was wondering if I could get your number?” You blushed a bit and looked away. You were a bit weary, but decided anyways. “I-I don’t know... I guess so. You seem nice. It’s-“

“Hey there, you gotta hobby of stealin’ other people’s things?” A gloved band came in contact with your shoulder, and a large shadow cast over you and the man in front of you. The man gasped in amazement at seeing the number two pro hero standing before him, it would’ve been a better experience if Hawks wasn’t threatening him with his looks and smart-ass remarks. “Huh? Oh! S-Sorry I didn’t-“ Hawks rudely interrupted the man, his gloved hand squeezing harder. His smile was obviously forced, and his feathers were starting to fluff up every second that past he stood in front of this guy. “Eh don’t worry about, you didn’ know. Now that ya do, don’t come near her again, Kay?”

And in the blink of an eye, Hawks pulled you away and out of the fast food restaurant. He aggressively pulled out the food and shoved yours against your chest, unwrapping his quickly and munching on it. “What the hell Hawks?! That was a bit much! He was being nice! It’s not like we’re dating or anything...” You trailed off, watching his wings twitch and fluff. You had noticed his strange behavior for a couple days now. His feathers would fluff up every now and again —you had no idea why— especially near men. “You should be thankin’ me chicken wing. I just saved you from a world of heartbreak.”

“That’s not your place to decide, Hawks. I don’t intervene when women ask for your phone number.” You crossed yours arms and turned your nose up at his childish behavior. He didn’t respond, finishing his breakfast and throwing away his trash in a nearby can. His hands slipping back into his pockets, displaying that he was closing himself off from you now. Of course, you began to become irritated at his lack of voice, but you decided to let it go and not pressure him further. “You’ve been acting weird lately ya know? I’m getting worried...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Oh how you hated his emotionless voice, so bland and robotic, it honestly pained you. His eyes were sharp, quick to notice your saddened expression. Hawks sighed heavily and stuck his bottom lip out, wrapping his arm around your arms and pulling you close to him. “I’m one of the top five pros, you don’ gotta worry about me, chicken wing. Cheer up.” You smiled and shoved him off, only a bit happy his cocky and arrogant behavior had returned. The Hawks you knew and cherished. “You know, I hate you sometimes, but I can’t help but love you at the same time.”

“Who doesn’t love me? The sexiest bird-man around.” He smirked and gave you a flirtatious look, a small sound bubbling from his throat similar to a whistle. You returned his smirk with a teasing smile. You were almost immune to his flirty charm, key-word; almost. Hawks was definitely an attractive man. Those piercing eyes with dark markings around them, only making the color pop and glow. His messy hair swept back and disheveled. Let’s not forget about those bushy eyebrows of his, they almost look like feathers from his wings, only a beautiful ashy blonde color just like his hair. You could probably do without his egotistical attitude and vulgar tongue, but that was still all part of his charm. “Move!”

You were surprised by Hawks suddenly grabbing you and jerking you out of the way of an attack from a villain. You were right there in his chest, feeling his warmth, hearing the harsh thumping of his heart at the thought of almost losing you. Before he had a chance to say what he wanted. “Well there goes our leisurely patrol. And more paper work on our desks.” Hawks grunted in annoyance and took to the air. You finally regained your composure and got into your fighting stance. “Ready to kick some ass Hawks?! Whoever lands the final blow is treated to lunch!”

“Heh, you don’t stand a chance! Show me whatcha got!”

—

“Thanks Edgeshot... I totally owe you one.” You scratched their back of your neck with an awkward smile as you stood in front of the current number four hero. While Hawks was on the assault, eager to show off and boost his already high ego, you tried to get a sneak attack in, but the villain noticed you. They were about to attack you, before Edgeshot came and got you out of the way. Hawks didn’t take this too well. He became angry immediately and finished off the villain in a matter of seconds. “No thanks necessary, (H/N). I was just doing my job.” You hated being in debt to someone more than anything, so you quickly threw out an offer.

“Please! Let me take you out for drinks! Honestly! I’ve gotta do something! I-“ Suddenly a large shadow cast over you for the second time that day. You turned around and shrunk down noticing Hawks’ wings spread wide, fluffed to the brim and shaking in anger. His face was red and his eyes were narrowed at Edgeshot. He was angry at himself for not being able to protect you himself, and at Edgeshot for rescuing you and holding you close. That was supposed to be him. “H-Hawks? What’s wron-“ Edgeshot was the one who answered your main question earlier before Hawks could even get another word out. The answer shocked you to your core, finally understand why he was acting so weird.

“He’s showing his dominance, and in a public place no less, how careless.” You looked at the ninja hero confused before you turned your attention back to Hawks. Dominance? His wings were such a beautiful vibrant color now. A shade of red you’d never seen them before on him. A sudden flash captured your eyes, taking your attention away from his beautiful wings. The media was eating this up. Soon it would reach the Hero Public Safety Commission and the president would not like this one bit. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I’m impatient, I can’t wait any longer.” Your eyes widened as your attention was fully back on Hawks now. You opened your mouth about to ask what he meant, but something was preventing you from doing so.

Hawks’ lips were firmly placed upon your own, his bright red rings wrapping around the both of you to shield you from any watchful eyes wanting to take a peek at you. His lips were soft, his hands finding themselves on your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You were shocked, your eyes wide, heart hammering wildly out of your chest at the sudden action. Slowly, you began to kiss him back, falling victim to his charm and passionate ways. He was quickly heating up the kiss, but you placed your hands on his chest firmly, pushing him away just enough to separate your lips. He was chasing your lips, desperate to get another kiss. “Hawks what-“

“I’m tired of waiting. I can’t fucking hold it in any longer. I know I’m impatient, but you make it so fucking hard to hold back sometimes.” You opened your mouth about to question, but the only thing that came from your mouth was a terrified scream having Hawks launch you both into the air and fly quickly through the skies. You held onto him for dear life, screaming at him to put you down. You nearly hugged the ground when Hawks reached a luxury penthouse apartment. “What the hells the matter with y- mmm!” He forced his lips onto you quickly, roughly grabbing your body and pulling you against him. His wings still outstretched and flapping slightly.

His feathers went to open the sliding glass door, pushing you inside while still having your lips firmly connected. He was hungry, eating your mouth like it was the only thing he’d had in years. His tongue forced its way passed your lips, dominating the inside of your mouth with his fiery passion. Your hands clawed at his fluffy tan jacket, pulling him closer, your body now aching to be touched more by him. He was just so intoxicating. It was starting to get hard to breath after a while, and you tried to pull yourself away, but he moved with you, keeping your lips firmly together. He only parted away to growl out an order to you. “Breath through your nose.”

His hands were on you again, thick gloved hands trailing down your waist to grab a handful of your tasty ass. A squeak flew out of your lips, allowing him deeper access to your mouth than he already had. You couldn’t deny the dampness beginning to build down there. Your panties were now wet with your slick, making you slightly uncomfortable with the way the damp fabric rubbing against your folds. “God.” He breathed against your lips, not even giving you a second to catch your breath before he was on you again. His hands quickly got towork on getting your shirt off. “I can smell your fuckin’ arousal. Fuck it’s intoxicating. You drive me fucking crazy!”

“H-Hawks! W-Wait!” You voiced your want to stop and talk whatever he was feeling out, but just seeing that lustful passionate look in his eyes, it was a lost cause. His pupils were blown with lust, his breathing heavy and ragged, desperate to start touching you again. “It’s your fault... all your fuckin’ fault it came early. Now be a good baby bird and take responsibility.” You didn’t have time to refuse before he was on you again, his lips finding their way harshly to your neck, his teeth lightly biting. You jerked your head to the side, moaning softly at the feeling of his canines digging into your skin. Your heart was hammering harshly against your chest feeling his thick glove drift up your shirt, roughly grabbing your boobs, groaning at the squishy feeling in his hands. “I didn’ want you to see me like this... but after all the shit that’s happened today... I can’t hold back. Not anymore. That was out the door whenever you started mocking my thirty fans.”

He pulled your shirt over your head quickly, pushing you back into his couch while his hands grabbed your waist, his tongue sliding across the top of your breasts. A shiver raked through your body, low pants leaving your mouth as you watched his mouth move lower. In a flash of red, a feather came up and sliced your bra open, being the impatient man he is, he didn’t want to struggle with getting it off you just to see those perky nips of yours. You were quick to cover yourself, too embarrassed showing your best friend your body like that. It’s not like you would ever look at each other the same after this. A strong grip enclosed around your wrists, Hawks grabbing your wrists and pinning them by your sides.

“H-Hawks...” Your breathy whisper of his name drove him almost mad. He breathed onto one of your nipples, hot breath fanning over the entirety of your perky buds. You squirmed in discomfort and whimpered, your body betraying your mind, desperately wanting his mouth on you. “Hah... I knew you wanted me just as much as I fucking wanted you. How long, how long have you wanted me? Tell me. Tell me how much you crave me right now, ‘cause I can’t get enough!” He drew out the flat of his tongue, running it over your nipple, all while his golden eyes stared right at you expressions. Your legs clinched together tightly feeling a tingling sensation spread from his lick. “Hawks no, mmm~ you cant...”

“I can, and I will, you’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you out of my apartment until I’ve marked you as mine, and you’ve got so much fucking cum inside you that you’ll already look pregnant.” Your eyes widened and you jerked away from him. Pregnant?! Was he out of his mind?! You weren’t even dating yet! Sure you’ve had feelings for him for a long time now but this was all moving too fast! “What did you expect? I’m gonna breed you so fuckin’ good. So fucking good. You won’t be able to think about anyone else but me.” Now it all clicked. What he said earlier, how he was acting now. Why hadn’t you noticed it sooner? He practically told you everything this morning, you were just too stupid to consider it.

Mating season.

That’s why his feathers had been brighter, the cooing and whistling coming from his throat. The displays of dominance to other men who you conversed with. Courting traits for a male trying to attract a female. You weren’t dumb, animals mated to do one thing, and one thing only. Reproduce. Their instinct immediately is to find a female and mate with them, reproduce and leave. However, this wasn’t always the case in some. “Fuck, you smell so damn good down here. Your pussy’s so wet for me already. And I haven’t even done anything, yet. Looks like you’ve become a thirsty fan, huh? Wanting my cum deep inside you and gettin’ wet while I manhandle you? Fuck, you’re so damn sexy.”

“Hawks m-more~” You were hesitant to ask him for more, worrying for your poor body and your sensitive heart. Only sensitive for him. You accepted your feelings for him, struggling to voice your new found notion to him. He growled lowly in response to your request, hands hastily pulling your pants off in one fell swoop. He was absolutely feral. “I wanna eat you out so fuckin’ bad. Your sweet pussy, sopping snd beggin’ to be stuffed, fuck.” He has a particularly vulgar tongue most of the time, but never like this. He always expressed how hard it was for him to hold back, but this was a completely different side of him you’d never seen. It was like he was feral. A complete animal. “Oh, I’m gonna tongue fuck the shit out of you. You’ll cum all over my tongue, just like how you’re gonna squirt all over my cock.”

He stood up quickly, his feathers dispersing to shrug his jacket off before he pulled his tight shirt over his head. Just like that his wings came back to life, flapping slightly as a readjustment. His gloves were removed as well, now you could feel his bare hands roaming over your exposed body. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs and putting your inner thighs around his head, but not too tight. He approached your entrance, a damp spot clearly evident on your fabric panties. His fingertips dug into your thighs, pushing his face flush against your panties. He let out a breathy moan against your wet folds protected by your panties, subconsciously humping the couch for even the slightly bit of pressure against his hard cock.

“Hah, fuuuuck. I’m so horny, everything’s so hot. Let’s get these cute little panties off. Don’t wanna rip ‘em now. Need something to hold my cum inside your pretty pussy so you bare my kids.” Hawks grabbed your panties and pulled them down your legs and onto the floor. He kneeled on his knees in front of the couch, his head between your legs, your feet propped against the coffee table, and your hands gripping the couch anywhere you could, desperately wanting to grab his messy hair. “Oh god...” He moaned at the sight of your sopping pussy, your slick slowly dripping onto the couch much to your embarrassment.

“D-Don’t stare dumba- H-Hawks!” You cried out his name in surprise once he drove his face deep into your crotch. His nose firmly pressed against your sensitive clit, his tongue diving deep into your cunt without warning. Your hands dove straight to his hair, pulling at his blonde locks trying to keep yourself composed from his pleasure. “Oh fuck! Oh Hawks! Sh-Shit! Mmm baby yes~” Your head was spinning, his teeth lightly pressing against yours folds. It didn’t help anything with all of the lewd smacking and slurping of his tongue eating you out so damn good. “Ahh! N-No Wait! Your tongue! It’s so... Ngh! Deep!”

“Keep moaning for me, just like that. Moan for me and don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.” The vibrations of his lips against your sensitive pussy cause you to flinch and squirm against his sinful touch, fingers pulling at his hair harder. An unexpected groan escaped his lips as he went back to work, tongue swirling and digging around, searching for that one spot that would make your world come undone. You continued to moan and call out his name, instinctively pushing his head deeper. His movements were quick and sloppy, savoring every lick of your delicious fluids, groaning lewdly against your pussy’s lips once he found that spot. “Oh fuck! Right there! Mm~! More! Please a-again!”

He ruthlessly began to abuse that spot, pushing his tongue harshly against it and attempting to massage it. His fingers poked and prodded at your insides, pushing his fingers past and replacing his tongue with those long slim fingers of his. Your head was now thrown back against the couch, releasing his hair and clawing at the couch for dear life, desperately clinging to anything you could grab. You moaned at the foreign feeling, forgetting what if even felt like to have sex. You had a fleeting experience in your last year of high school, but that was it. One time thing. Now here you are doing it again, with your best friend no less, or were you even friends anymore? His fingers worked on making sure you were prepared for him. You were enjoying yourself, being pleasured by the man you’ve hidden your feelings from for years. Him however...

His cheeks were dusted pink, sweat trickling down his forehead with some of his curly blonde locks sticking to his face. His breathing was ragged, heavy and stuttered with a thick sense of desire behind it. His wings were quivering, the color so vibrant it could rival a neon sign. Now you didn’t know much about their nature, but you could tell just by looking at his wings that he was very excited and desperate. “Gotta get you nice and prepared for me right, chicken wing? Gotta get you ready to take my fat cock.” His lewd words made your world just so much hotter. You could feel your arousal leaking down your pussy to your puckered hole and down onto Hawks’ expensive couch. “Ahh! St-Stop! I’m-Im gonna cum! Oh god I’m gonna cum!”

He jerked his fingers out quickly, grunting in the process as he lustfully stared at his fingers coated in your juices. He breathed out a moan while he kicked away all your juices, growling lowly in possessiveness. “Sorry chicken wing but... I want you to cum on my cock. I want to feel you clampin’ down on me, cumming so hard you faint. Screaming my name at the top of your lungs so that everyone knows that you’re mine! All fuckin’ mine.” Your eyes widened seeing him sit up more, pushing his pants down the rest of the way before kicking them off, leaving him in only his red boxers. His arousal was definitively clear, noticing how the head of his cock peeked out from the waistband, leaking pre-cum, tip red and aching. The sight was undeniable steamy, your legs clenching together with your thighs slowly rubbing together. “That’s right baby. Already thirstin’ for my cock, aren’t you? Fuckin’ slut. My slut. Hah... fuck I gotta be inside you.”

He pushed his boxers down, revealing his aching hard-on. Balls lulling down, full of cum, ready to be emptied out inside of your tight pussy. Without thinking, you sat up slowly coming close to his erection. You could smell his heavily masculine and musky scent from where you were, but you needed more of him. You sadly didn’t get far before he grabbed your head and pushed you back. “Nah ah, baby. Not today. I’m too fuckin’ horny and desperate to let you suck my cock today. Next time.” Next time? There was going to be a next time? Your heart hammered harshly knowing your long time friend and crush planned on doing all of this again with you. “Hang on tight, dove. It’s gonna be a long bumpy ride.”

“W-Wait!” You watched in worry as Hawks pinned you down, spreading your legs and positioning himself. You hadn’t taken him seriously, but now you regret it. “P-Protecti- Ahn~!” You couldn’t even protest once he pushed himself inside, moaning loudly at the sinful heat that engulfed his cock, heating up his entire body more than it already was. His wings flapped slowly, occasionally twitching as he impatiently waited for you to get used to his size. The cool breeze sorta calmed you down, taking your attention away from the pain nestled in your lower regions. “Fuck, can I move? Please, please let me move.”

Good god did he sound fucking hot begging.

“Yeah, y-you can- MMM! Fuck!” You threw your head back, pleasure spreading through your body. As soon as he heard the word “yeah” he immediately got to work on fucking your cunt until you were overflowing with his cum. You harshly bit your lip, holding in your embarrassing noises from his ears, however, he had no problem not hiding them from you. “Fuck, fuck, hah... don’t hide your moans from me. I wanna fuckin’ hear ‘em. Let everyone know who’s fucking you, who you belong to, and that you’re m-mine! Fuck!” He breathlessly moaned against your face, ramming himself into you repeatedly. Your hands were now on his back, clawing down his muscular back. He growled lowly into your ear, breathily cursing. “D-Damnit! Can’t... f-find it! Ahh... hah... fuck chicken wing, fuck yeah!”

His husky grunts were dangerously bordering animalistic. His pants were ragged, hips never faltering in movement, his wings flapping slightly and quivering every now and again. “Yeah baby? You like me fucking you? I’m gonna breed you so fuckin’ good. You’ll bare m-my clutch! You’re mine, ahhaahh! Fuck!” You were crying his name, clenching his back with your legs squeezing on either side of his waist. His cock was hammering against a bundle of nerves in your body you didn’t even know you had. “Hawks! Oh god! Please! Slow down-!” He pulled out quickly, leaving you a whimpered mess without that full feeling in your stomach. He flipped you over, hastily ramming himself back in you from behind, his wild thrusts getting harder. “Yeah, fuck yeah! There it is! Yeah! Gonna cum right in that womb if yours, you’re gonna be so round and pregnant with my kids! N-Nobody’ll ever come near you again! They’ll know you’re mine! My dove! My b-baby!”

His hot hands pushed your lower back, slamming you down against the couch and brutally fucking your tight pussy like no tomorrow, animalistic growls leaving his lips, teeth burying into your shoulder and neck. He was marking you as his. You were covered in his scent now, other men wouldn’t dare come near you now that you were filled with Hawks’ pheromones. “I’m gonna cum! Ahh! Hah! Hahn fuck I’m cumming Hawks! I’m cumming!” He rose his hand and smacked your ass harshly, the red tingling sensation spreading through your cheek. It felt so damn good. He grasped his hand over your stomach and pushed harshly. “You’re cumming, yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock? Gonna try and milk me are ya? Milk me, baby! Milk me so damn good and get every last drop of my fuckin’ cum in that ripe fertile womb of yours!”

“Hawks! Hah! Hah! Oh I’m cumming! Nhhh I’m c-cum...ming! Ahh!” You came harshly all over his still thrusting cock, your creamy juices spreading all over his cock and slipping down his balls full of his child baring cum. He didn’t stop yet, still bucking his hips through your orgasm even though you were still so sensitive. “Ohho! You’re such a good girl! So good! Fuck baby! Yeah, keep squeezin’ me! Keep fuckin’ squeezin’ meee! Agh!” He groaned deeply into your ear, desperately panting and grunting into your ear. You cried, physical tears running down your cheeks at the intensity of his brutal thrusts on your aching sore cunt. He slapped your ass again, squeezing it tightly afterwards with his nails creating crescents in your smooth skin. “F-Fuck I’m close! Yeah you want my cum? Tell me you want my cum deep inside you! C’mon baby, say it!”

“I want your cum Hawks! Mmm! Please! Please I want it! I wanna carry your kids! I want to be bred by you! Ah hahn! I can’t! Please!” You immediately regretted your words. His pace had become quicker, harsh pounds becoming desperate. You could feel his balls slapping against your inner thighs, a red itchy tingling bubbling up. His hands came around your neck, the other going to harshly rub your clit. You couldn’t contain the endless moans, cries, and screams of his name, his hero name to be precise. “Oh god! Oh my god! Feels so good! Mmm! Hawks, I-I’m gonna cum again!” He pants against your ear, snarling and growling about how good and round he’s gonna make you.

“Fuck I’m cumming! Hah, fuck!” He grunted loudly and released heavy shaky breathes, his raging hard on twitching inside your now gooey insides. You came harshly, your walls clamping down on him. He was fully embedded within you, balls pressed firmly against you, his scarlet wings twitching and flapping, stretching widely suddenly stiffening up. You could feel the warm spurts of his cum deep inside, forcing a low moan past your swollen lips. His wings happily drooped once he had finished, his head now hanging low, trying to catch his breath. “H-Hawks... I love you.” You finally admitted to him, watching intently to see his reaction to your words. He laughed huskily, his golden eyes raising back up to meet yours, still cloudy with lust. “You fuckin’ better. You’re my dove, now and forever, ya hear that? Now...”

“Let’s make sure you get pregnant.”

—

Pain was the first thing you were met with the morning after your undeniably passionate night with Hawks. Feathers were scattered all over the place, large blankets thrown everywhere, and some of his clothes were thrown over you. Incredibly confused, you sat up but quickly jolted back down as a searing hot pain shot through your body from your hips. “Woah there, chicken wing! Relax, you must be in a lot of pain. I don’t blame you after the harsh fucking I put you through last night.” The man who had put you in such pain walked into the room, shirtless and only in a pair of boxers. The bed dipped slowly as he sat on the bed, handing you a cool glass of water. You painfully sat up, gently taking the glass from his rough hands, thanking him quietly. “What the hell did you do while I was out?”

The pro hero looked around the room before coming to lay eyes on you again, scratching the back of his neck with a faint blush on his cheeks. “I uh, made a nest!” He answered bashfully. It was an incredibly rare sight to see him embarrassed. Uncomfortable sometimes, but never embarrassed. You looked around the mess and raised a brow. “Nest? Why the hell did you-“ You stopped once you remembered what had happened last night between the both of you and what you had realized. You blushed and threw the covers off yourself quickly, horrified at the sticky mess dripping from your insides, still. Just how many rounds had you gone with him last night? “Hah, Sorry. I just couldn’ hold myself back. My ruts are really bad, which is why I always take a week off.”

“You didn’t have to cum inside me this much Hawks...” You said and cringed at all the fluids dripping out of your abused cunt. You didn’t notice, but his wings shivered, ruffling up a bit at the sight of your leaky pussy, until they settled down again. “It’s your fault ya know? Makin’ me so damn jealous I had to claim you for myself. Claim you before someone else took you.” Your cheeks reddened slightly, and you looked to the side, your heart racing. Of course, he could feel your sensitive heart racing, and slowly leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise, melting into his sweet kiss. There was no sexual intention behind the kiss, only a reassurance that you didn’t have to worry about speaking your true feelings, that he already knew you loved him. “You’re my baby bird now. You’ve upgraded chicken wing. Congrats.”

“How many levels are there with you?” You laughed, enjoying this sweet moment with your new lover. He laughed and hopped into bed beside you, pulling you close to him in your little nest. His hands ran over your flat stomach slowly, cooing and flapping his wings lightly. “A lot more, step up your game, baby. You good though? How do you feel knowin’ you have the most popular hero’s cum inside of you. Mixin’ with all your fertile eggs to make my fuckin’ kids.” He growled possessively and wrapped his wings around you protectively, kissing your head and over your face. You couldn’t help but turn red at his words, embarrassed by how blunt he is. “Do... do you really want to have kids Hawks? I mean... we just started... d-dating...”

“Who cares the order, as long as you’re mine and that little bundle of feathers inside you is all mine, order can go fuck itself.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his arm gently. His whistling and cooing got louder the more he cuddled you, his lips peppering your face with kisses. “Ya know they already have story’s about us? They got my whole ‘top bird’ thing on video.” He seemed quite happy with it. The president of the HPSC would not be happy about this once she found out. But knowing Hawks, he couldn’t have given two fucks about it. He raised your chin, smirking smugly. “I also tweeted that we’re dating and that you’re mine, and that we’re gonna have chicks, and that all those other guys better stay away or I’ll kill ‘em.”

You rolled your eyes. “You jealous bird...”

#my hero academia #takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo smut #hawks smut #feral hawks #mha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #bnha hawks

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 (𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚! 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨) 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣) × 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3.8K

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜) 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @yunhofingers @brie02 @deja-vux @multidreams-and-desires @rvse-miingi

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Swerving into the sidewalk, the female took less than 5 seconds to fit herself into the passenger seat and slam the door behind her. Stepping on the accelerator, her partner's eyes looked firmly forward as he maneuvered himself through the alleys to safely get them out of the city without having to use the main highways. Once making sure no one was following them, they both breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful that the mission had run smoothly.

"Got it?" The male asked.

Reaching into her cleavage, she took out a folded piece of paper and held it in front of him, the male slightly cringing when he saw where it had came from.

"Like taking candy from a baby." She snorted before stuffing the piece of paper in the glove compartment.

As if on cue, the small screen on the dashboard began blinking, letting them know someone was trying to contact them. Pressing the answer button, the driver looked momentarily to see the face of their leader pop up.

"Tell me neither of you got your limbs torn off." He voiced his concern.

"We're on our way back already, give us an hour and we'll be there."

Satisfied at the success of the mission, the platinum blonde male looked over at the woman who simply had her arms crossed over her chest, staring daggers at him.

"Thank you for your sacrifice Y/N." He smiled at her.

"Oh shove it up your ass Hongjoong. It was embarrassing enough to dress like a whore let alone have some middle aged man grope my body. I would rather be bored to death walting in a car like Yunho did." She was fuming, still disgusted at the ordeal she had to go through, even her partner grimaced slightly when he thought about what she had to go through.

"But it was a success right? Thanks to the fast acting sedative Yeosang gave you." Hongjoong tried to reason with her.

"Whatever, as long as she doesn't have to do those dirty jobs again I think we're fine." Yunho piped up, unconsciously gripping the steering wheel a little too tight.

Hongjoong held back a smirk threatening to form across his lips.

"All right then. I expect you both here very soon."

With the screen going black, the pair just sat there in silence, one focused on the road while the other opted for looking out the window, having no other amusement besides the endless trees surrounding their path.

"Why even would you care about me doing jobs like this?"

Yunho was not expecting her to talk let alone ask a question like that out a nowhere.

"What do you mean?"

Y/N rolled her eyes.

"You know exactly what I mean. What you said to Hongjoong before, why should you care about me having to do these kinds of jobs?"

Yunho stayed quiet, pondering over his next words.

"I just....working so long with you I naturally feel an attract- a concern!...over your well being." He quickly corrected himself.

"I just think you're too talented and too good at your job to have to sink down that low just because Hongjoong wants to use the easy way."

Y/N had an amused look on her face as she listened intently to Yunho's words. Scanning him all over, she wasn't going to lie she found him extremely good looking and she'd be lying if she hadn't thought about fucking him more than once. She had often heard the snickers and teasing San and Wooyoung often directed at him too and she was more than curious to find out whether the rumors were true or not.

"You know what I think Yuyu?"

The way he suddenly straightened up and swallowed hard at the nickname did not go unnoticed by her. Taking off her seatbelt, she leaned over to him, her breath ghosting over his ear.

"I think you're jealous." She giggled when he moved his face away from her proximity.

"Why would I be jealous?" He cleared his throat, keeping a straight poker face one.

With a sly smile, Y/N began unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

"Cause some rival actually got to do what you wish you could do but are too scared to."

Yunho inhaled deeply when he felt her nose pressed up against his neck, lips dragging themselves up his jaw.

"And what exactly would that be?" Although he seemed nonchalant about her behavior, truth was he desperately wanted to know just how far the dirty bastard had gotten with his gorgeous partner.

"Oh you know the usual..... a kiss, with tongue involved." As she said that she made sure to lick the shell of his ear.

"A hand in between someone's legs, cupping a certain member."

Yunho let out a groan when he felt her hand squeeze at his growing erection, palming him through his trousers.

"Or fingers sliding up thighs and inside a little black dress."

Yunho's eyes widened significantly at her description.

"How far did they go?" His knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel.

"That's not important-"

"How far did he go?" The sudden raise in his voice startled her slightly, but it also meant that perhaps her plan was working.

"If you really must know.....he got 2 fingers in before passing out cold."

Y/N could see a tiny vein poking out from the side of his neck, telltale sign that he was really trying hard to not loose his temper. Looking away from her, she heard him mutter a soft 'damn him' before turning his eyes back on the road. Wanting to further anger him, she decided to throw in a little lie in her story.

"Had to readjust my dress after he was knocked out and wipe some of the spit off my chest."

Yunho's reaction was instant as he gripped her hand that up to now had still been groping at his cock, crushing her fingers in his palm.

"What do you mean wipe spit off? He saw your chest?" His pale complexion was suddenly turning a light pinkish and red shade.

"Saw, kissed, licked, bit the girls, you get the gist."

Releasing his harsh grip on her hand, Yunho took a deep breath, trying to remain calm but no longer being able to hold himself back from doing something he had been wanting to do for a long time.

"Take off your panties and spread your legs for me." He suddenly ordered her.

Y/N was so taken aback by his instructions that she looked at him as if he was crazy.

"What?"

Rolling his eyes, Yunho repeated himself.

"Take off your panties and spread your legs for me."

Turning on the cruise control on the car, Yunho looked over at Y/N, eyes burning with anger.

"Don't fucking make me repeat myself."

Y/N wanted to laugh at how silly he sounded, which he noticed how she held back a snort and he did not appreciate it.

"What if I don't want to?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't ask what you wanted, I gave you an order."

Wanting to further test him, Y/N smirked.

"Why don't you make me?"

"Gladly."

She shuddered when she heard the sound of a gun cocking and then gulped when Yunho held it right in front of her face.

"Now babygirl....let's try this again. Those panties, off." He said as he pointed the gun down at her legs.

Reaching into her dress, Y/N peeled her underwear down her legs, embarrassed about the wet patch that was in between them caused by her teasing on her partner. Looking over, Yunho chuckled when it did not go unnoticed by him. With one hand still on the steering wheel, he used the hand that held the gun and dragged it across her thigh in slow, circular motions.

"Spread those pretty legs for me now."

Tapping the inside of her thigh, the corners of his lip curled when he heard her shift in her seat, signaling that she was obeying him. Taking a peek, he was not satisfied with the results.

"Spread them out as far as your able to baby, and lift up that dress of yours. Let me see how wet your little cunt is." The gun he held was already lifting part of her dress up.

Sitting up, Y/N lifted her dress up to her waist before spreading her legs out, feeling the cool air breeze at her glistening folds. Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, Yunho admired the beautiful picture sitting next to him, all pliant and awaiting further instructions.

"Fuck you have a really pretty pussy."

Y/N bit down on her lip when she felt the barrel of his gun press against her clit before dragging her her folds, collecting much of her already formed arousal.

"What if I just shoved it inside that filthy hole of yours? Fuck you with my gun? You'd probably like that wouldn't you?"

Y/N gasped when she felt the gun poke at her entrance, her walls already tightening themselves. But instead Yunho simply pulled the gun back, bringing it up to his face before licking off the juices left over. Y/N couldn't keep her mouth from falling open slightly as she watched him practically eat up her slick. Setting the gun down on one of the cup holders, Yunho snaked his hand in between her legs, thumb pressing against her nub which had her inhaling sharply.

"Such a sensitive little one....and so responsive."

His thumb began to draw circles around her clit, flicking against it occasionally. Y/N couldn't understand how he could still be focused on maneuvering the wheel without getting distracted or being lazy with the movements on her mound. The way his thumb worked her clit was so precise, so skilled, as if he knew exact what to do to get her more and more worked up with each brush of his thumb. When he moved his thumb away it was only so he could slide one of his long and slender fingers inside her.

"Oh fuck." Y/N's hands gripped at the arm rest as she felt his finger reach so deep in her.

"What never had something this long in you before?" He snickered amusedly.

Slowly, he pumped his finger in and out the her, loving the way her walls seemed to suck him back in whenever he pulled out. Y/N decided to close her eyes and just enjoy as her longtime partner invaded her most intimate part, first with one finger which was soon joined by a second one, further stretching her out.

"So warm...." Yunho mused while curling his fingers upwards.

"That feels so good."

Yunho felt proud of himself as he heard her say that, ego boosted further by the tiny sighs her nose breathed out.

"Yeah? You like my fingers inside you baby? Like having them inside your tight pussy?"

Y/N moaned in response when he began thrusting his fingers with more force, sloppy sounds being heard throughout the car due to how wet she was. Her thighs began to close around his hand, which resulted in Yunho slipping his fingers out before landing a harsh slap on her clit that had her nearly jumping in her seat.

"Keep those legs open for me you slut. After all, that's all you're good at."

If it had been anybody else, she would have slapped them for saying that. But something about Yunho actually had her nearly cumming at his words. Spreading her legs once again, she welcomed his fingers once more, bottom lip caught in between her teeth.

"You said he got 2 fingers in? Tsk. Pathetic. I bet I can top that."

Y/N's mouth dropped open into a perfect oval shape as Yunho stuffed yet a third finger in her, momentarily slowing his pace down so he could brush the tips of his fingers against the roof of her walls. He knew he found what he was looking for when she let out a particularly loud moan and her legs shook.

"Found you."

Y/N began writhing in her seat as Yunho jammed his fingers in and out of her at a rapid pace, his tips always making sure to brush at her g-spot. Yunho had a smug grin throughout the whole time, every 5 seconds or so he looked back to watch Y/N's blushed face as his hand fucked her.

"If you're already this worked up about just my fingers, I can't wait to see what you'll be like when I'm fucking you balls deep."

Y/N whipped her head at him after he said that, her incredulous eyes meeting his haughty ones.

"Yes Y/N, this is merely a prep to get you ready for my cock. I need you stretched open so you can fit my massive cock inside that tiny pussy of yours."

Y/N threw her head back as she began picturing getting fucked by his cock.

"Oh my- oh my God! Fuck!"

Yunho's speed never slowed down even after he felt her cum all over his fingers, wanting her to keep the high for as long as possible. He wanted to make sure he managed to get her to spill out as much as possible. Only until he felt her come down from her high did he remove his fingers from inside her. Holding them up to her lips, his thumb grazed her bottom lip.

"Taste yourself baby."

Her mouth opened and enveloped his fingers inside it. She hummed against his fingers as she sucked off her juices off them. Yunho didn't pull them out of her mouth until he was sure she had licked them clean. Wiping himself off on his pants, he then undid his zipper and began pulling himself out of his tight confinement.

"Be a good girl and suck me off baby. Put that pretty mouth of yours to work."

Seeing him whip out his massive length had her drooling over it. It was the biggest cock she had ever seen in her life and she couldn't believe that she'd actually have that in her soon, no doubt destroying and rearranging her insides. As she kept staring at it, she was smacked out of her trance when Yunho harshly yanked her down by her hair and pressed her face against his dick.

"Are you already too dumb to obey a simple order from just getting fingered? Or from seeing my huge cock?"

With his grip still on her hair, Yunho guided her so her nose brushed all around his length, making her sniff him which she gladly did.

"If you're really that much of a cockslut then you should have no problem sucking me off. Now get to it."

Opening her mouth, Y/N first took his thick head in her mouth, giving his slit a little dig with her tongue which made Yunho groan. Being in the mood for teasing him, she kept only his head in her mouth for the meantime, sometimes pulling off to give his slit sweet kitten licks before slurping around it once more, making sure to moan as dramatically as she could.

Knowing what her game was, Yunho wasn't having any of it.

"I know you can do a lot better than that you slut. Or did you forget how to suck dick?"

Putting one hand on the back of her head, he smoothed out her hair, petting and stroking her head in such a caring and tender way, all while having a sadistic look plastered on.

"It's ok, let me remind you."

Y/N gagged as she felt Yunho push her down his length, her nose hitting against his pubic bone. He held her there for a few seconds before pulling her back up from her hair. Letting her gasp for air first, Yunho fisted some more of her hair in his fingers before shoving her back down his length. His hips would often come up to stuff more of his length down her throat. Her mouth was so warm and he loved hearing her choke around his cock. Y/N hollowed her cheeks out as much as possible, sucking as much as Yunho as she could without gagging too much. The car was filled with her slurping and gagging sounds, and whenever Yunho would look down to see the mess she was it only fueled the feeling that was brewing in his lower stomach.

"Shit! You're going to make me cum- cum inside your mouth."

Yunho tried so hard to focus on not swerving out of the lane. He was thankful it was a deserted road that hardly anyone used, otherwise he would never have gotten away with face fucking Y/N as he drove. Hearing him finally start spewing out lewd sounds from his mouth had made Y/N proud. Sloppily, she kept deepthroating him, letting his head hit the back of her mouth as her hand reached over to cup his balls, massaging them in her palms.

Yunho began frantically bucking his hips up.

"Shit! I'm going to cum- Oh fuck!."

Swiftly pulling her off him, she had saliva trickling down her chin, lips swollen and red after making her practically swallow him whole. Y/N was confused when Yunho suddenly got off the road and parked the car. Struggling to take off his seatbelt, Yunho turned his attention to her.

"Backseat."

Getting the hint, Y/N got out of the car, pulling the rest of her dress over her head in the process. Opening the door, she quickly climbed into the backseat where seconds after Yunho joined her. He practically slammed the door behind him. Pulling his pants further down, he began pumping himself, spreading more of his precum around his shaft.

"Get on top of me."

Not needing to be told twice, Y/N climbed on top with his lap, a little too earnestly given how she hit her head on the roof of the car.

"Watch your head." He teased her.

"Fuck off." She hissed as she rubbed her head.

Holding her hips, Yunho lifted her up and then sunk her down onto his length. Y/N shuddered then stood still as his enormous length ripped right through her, stretching her far beyond anything she ever felt.

"I'd rather fuck you if you don't mind."

Y/N couldn't contain her whimpers and shrieks as Yunho slammed his hips into her, fingers digging into her ass to hold her down on his lap. Her hands held onto the top of the seats to keep herself from bouncing too much and accidentally hitting her head again. She cried out harder when Yunho angled his hips so he'd hit at her g-spot over and over again. Their heavy panting and breathing, mixed with the steam and sweat their bodies were producing was staring to make the windows fog up.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to fuck you."

Y/N gasped when one of his hands came up to wrap itself around her neck, not pressing down at it but it made her shiver in anticipation at what he was going to do.

"Seeing you parade yourself in such short skirts during meetings, bending down and having everybody stare at your ass or tits-"

Letting out an animalistic growl, Yunho's hand gripped her jaw tightly, squishing her cheeks together to the point of hurting.

"Made me want to bend you over the table and spank your ass red before fucking it in front of everyone."

Releasing her jaw, his hand once more went to her neck, except now he gripped it tightly, cutting off part of her oxygen intake. Yunho grunted as he felt her walls compress around his length. Leaning his head to her chest, he began to suck and bite all across her breasts and sternum, not satisfied until he was sure to leave purple marks on it. Yunho continued to bounce her on his cock, loving the way her eyes shut tightly and her mouth stayed agape and poured out such sinful sounds. Because of his hand on her neck, she tried to warn him that she was about to cum but instead gibberish came out.

He understood though what she was trying to say.

"Awww is my little slut going to cum so soon? How desperate and needy were you that you're about to burst anytime now?"

Y/N began tearing up at his words and the endless strokes of his head hitting so deep in her.

"Or do you just love my monster cock that much?"

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she began quivering on top of him.

"Fuck! Yes- love your monster- oh god!"

Feeling her cum all over him, it didn't take no more than a couple more roll of his hips for Yunho to start pumping his seed into her, deep and raspy grunts spilling from his throat as he continued to grind himself into her so as to ride out their orgasms.

Once they both came down from their highs, Yunho tilted Y/N's face up so he could kiss her. His kiss was desperate and his lips would harshly nip and tuck at her bottom lip, biting down and making it more swollen than it already was.

"You're mine now doll. I'm claiming you as my own. From now on anybody who wants you has to step over my dead body first."

Y/N giggled and blushed at his words, not against being Yunho's property one bit. Her fingers ran themselves through his hair as she kissed him back with the same amount of passed he had. Their kiss was interrupted by the loud buzzing of Yunho's phone.

"Shit." Yunho muttered as he reached for his phone, grimacing when he saw it was Hongjoong.

"Hello?"

Hongjoong's voice boomed through the speaker.

"Where the fuck are you two?! It's been over 2 hours! You should have been back a long ass time ago!"

They both looked at each other, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

"Uh.....we stopped for ice cream?" Yunho tried to make up an excuse.

"I'm not in the mood for games Yunho, so tell me what the fuck happened. Did you two get chased?"

With a shit eating grin on his face, Yunho stared straight at Y/N as he said the next words.

"Well if you really want to know, I just got done fucking my sweet partner in the backseat of the car."

They could hear Hongjoong wheezing while someone in the background started screaming hysterically.

"And you're going to be waiting for us more cause I'm not done with her yet...."

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