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bluejayblueskies · 2 years

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pov you're an arkham taxi driver

Rating: Teen and Up Category: Gen

Characters: Original Characters, John, Arthur Additional Tags: Outsider POV, Alternative Perspective, Second Person POV, Some Humor, (a bit tongue-in-cheek)

CW: ableist language, cults, and mentions of violence/murder

Read on AO3

The man who climbs into the back of your cab looks just like any other man living in Arkham. That isn’t saying much, of course, given that they all look like any other person until the shit hits the fan, but there truly is no way to tell. That said, when the man begins muttering to himself, you’re not surprised in the least. You’ve been doing this job for far too long, and you’ve seen far worse.

(Some things do not wash out of upholstery, which is a fact that you’ve come to know quite intimately. You have a strict no-fluids policy now, which you think is perfectly fair and reasonable of you. The horrors can go ooze all over the back of somebody else’s taxi, thank you very much.)

“What is this Dark World?” the man says. His voice is hushed but not hushed enough, like he thinks that just because you’re up here and he’s back there, you can’t hear him. Why do they always think that? “Wh-what does it look like? I…”

He stops, clearly listening to something that only he can hear. You watch him in the rearview mirror as you drive through the streets of Arkham. You know these roads like the back of your hand, and you know the people who walk them just as well. You recognize the quietly horrified expression that flashes across his face, there and gone like it had never been.

You’ve reached his stop. Normally, you might take the long way ‘round, stretch out the ride for some extra cash, because things are hard out there right now and you’ve got a family to feed. But there’s no point. This guy is so far inside his own head (literally? You don’t know how these things work) that he barely blinks when you tack on the extra dollar fee.

Look, it’s just good business practice. Somebody brings a whole host of weird spooky shit into your cab, they gotta pay for it. Like a convenience fee. It’s not like every other taxi driver in this godforsaken city doesn’t do it.

The man leaves the cab, still muttering to himself, dropping the coins absently in your outstretched hand as he goes. He even says, “Thank you,” which is more than you get half of the time. You twist in your seat to check, and—nope. No mysterious packages, no odd stains, no lingering smells. Not even a shiver down the back of your neck.

All in all, a perfectly pleasant interaction. You almost feel bad about the surcharge.

(Almost.)

Your taxi still smells faintly of smoked meat when you pick up the man who talks to himself. You’ve been doing this long enough now that you can identify one of these types of people pretty much on sight—the ones involved with things they ought not to be involved with. Still, given that your last passenger—decidedly mundane—thought it appropriate to eat in the back of your taxi and subsequently saturate it with foodsmell for the next few hours at least, you’re more inclined than usual to turn a blind eye to whatever’s currently happening in your backseat.

… That doesn’t mean you can’t eavesdrop, though.

That’s the thing, see—they never assume that you’re listening. It’s possible they do and they just don’t care, but after the third time somebody openly discussed murder in front of you on the way to their destination, you’ve come to the conclusion that your presence is negligible to them.

Well, that’s just fine. Preferable, even. The last thing you want is for any of these people to think that you pose a threat to them. You’d much prefer that your limbs stay attached to your body and at all the right angles.

Anyway. The man is a detective, you think. There are also plenty of those in Arkham, which makes sense; more supernatural criminals necessitate more people to stop them who aren’t afraid of a bit of spook. He mentions a symbol in an old house—his destination, you assume, not far at all from the bookstore—but the way he phrases it, it’s … like he’s talking to somebody else.

… Probably best not to ask. If a man hears voices in his head and deigns to talk to them in public, well—that’s his own business.

“I always valued my sight, obviously,” the man says after a moment, “as much as one can. But it’s quite a different thing to lose it altogether one day.”

He continues, but you’re not listening anymore. Instead, you’re looking back and forth between the road in front of you and the man’s reflection in your rearview mirror, eyebrows raised.

He’s blind? Funny, he doesn’t look it. His eyes dart around, taking in the interior of the cab, the scenery outside the window, focusing on specific things. If you squint, though, you think you can see the faintest yellow shine around his irises, like that of the stray cats that scurry across the road in front of your taxi when you have the night shift.

You don’t have time to think about it any longer, though, because you’ve reached the house. It looks just like any other house, but they all do on the surface. The evil lies deeper, uncovered only if you’re not smart enough to keep your nose where it belongs.

You’re smart enough. This man evidently is not.

Pity. He seems nice enough—gives you nearly twice the required fare, thanks you, doesn’t leave any smells behind as he departs. (Christ, the bar is low, isn’t it.)

The man walks inside the house, almost certainly to his own detriment, and you drive away. You don’t expect you’ll be seeing him again any time soon.

“Alright, well—I’m all ears. Tell me.”

You almost respond before you glance in the mirror and see that the man in the back of your taxi isn’t looking at you. He cocks his head slightly, as if … listening to something?

Then, he says, “So you think this religious sect had opened a gateway?” and you have to fight back a sigh.

It fucking figures that you’d be transporting another goddamned cultist. Or at least somebody involved with them. It’s been a week or so since you picked one up, and apparently, the universe has decided to mock you for your belief that maybe you wouldn’t have to do so again.

You hate driving cultists. Sometimes you can tell just by looking at them if they’re involved in all that bullshit, but most of the time, you have no idea until they’re ruining your entire day. You know what all the other taxi drivers say—charge more, mind your business, and you’ll be fine—and you listen, of course. The extra money is nice—means you can actually put food on the table for your kids—and not being dead is also a significant perk.

But you see, that’s the issue. You drive a taxi; this should not be a life-or-death situation kind of job.

You sneak another glance at the man in your backseat.

He looks a bit frazzled. “Yes, um, well…” He trails off, then recenters himself. “Uh, this beckons the question once again—who are you to have a religious cult open a gateway to another world just to bring you through?”

What the fuck?

“I continually brush off the very real and serious concern that you may be something more sinister, and you seem quite okay with that. I don’t know exactly what you are—”

What the fuck? Who the fuck is this guy?

You take your eyes off the road, just for a moment, to do a full sweep of your car. There’s nobody else here—just you and this unassuming man in a suit and tie who you’re now certain is either very mad or very, very cursed. You really hope it’s the former, but given all the other things that have crawled into the back of your cab (in some cases literally), you’re not optimistic.

Fucking hell.

… At least he’s not covered in blood.

You drop the man on the doorstep of Miskatonic University and drive off as quickly as you can. There. He and his cryptic mutterings are somebody else’s problem now.

Christ. You wish the economy weren’t in shambles. You could really use a new career.

You’ve been doing this job for a long time, so you don’t bat an eye when the guy in the back of your taxi starts talking to himself about kidnappings. So long as he keeps all his business back there and leaves you out of it, you’ll stay up here and mind your business. It’s the polite thing to do, really.

You do bat an eye, however, when you pull up to his address and there are police outside the building.

The arrangement you and the other taxi drivers have with the cultists in this town is as unshakable as it is unspoken. They pay extra for their fare, and you don’t drop them on the steps of the police station when they start discussing illegal shit or carry suspicious-looking packages into the back of the taxi with them. You leave them be, and they leave you be, and everything is all hunky-dory.

That agreement, of course, rests on ambiguity and plausible deniability. If anybody ever tried to bring an actual body into your taxi, or if you picked them up from an obvious murder scene or ritual sacrifice, then yeah—all bets are off. But generally, the cultists don’t want to end up behind bars any more than you want to end up buried six feet under, so it all tends to shake out all right.

This guy apparently didn’t get the memo. He’s staring at the cops wide-eyed, using every swear in the book, and it couldn’t be more obvious that he’s the reason they’re here if he stepped out of the cab and started shouting his confession to the wind.

“How can we calm down?” he mutters to fucking nobody. Yep, he’s off to the looney bin for sure. At least he can make an insanity plea once he gets arrested. “They—they’ve just found my partner, they’ve found his body … oh fuck—”

You resist the urge to turn and give this guy a what-the-fuck look. He knows you’ll have to make a report about this, right? Even if he gets out of the taxi right now and makes it past the police without being seen, he’s basically just confessed to fucking murder in front of you. You can’t not write this up. It wouldn’t be ethical.

As the man continues to ramble to himself, you rifle through the glovebox until you locate a pen and paper. You jot down the address and a quick description of the man. You’ve never actually had to make a report like this before—who would have thought, seeing something new in this town even after all these years—so you’re not sure what you’ll need. Best to be thorough.

As you’re studying the man’s face, he suddenly looks at you, wide-eyed. Before you can say anything, he pulls a random assortment of coins from his pocket and thrusts them towards you—Christ, five dollars, is that supposed to be hush money or something?—before practically fleeing the cab.

You stare at the coins for a moment, then at the paper in your hand, before shrugging, setting them both on the passenger side seat, and driving away.

You don’t know the man’s name, of course. But the police accept his address and description all the same.

There is a frazzled, frantic man in the back of your taxi, talking to himself, and you wish you could say that this is the weirdest thing that’s happened to you all day. But you’re pretty sure the guy who wore a white mask and said fuck all the whole ride holds that honor.

On the other hand, though, this man may have just confessed to murder? Some guy named Eddie? Or maybe whoever he’s talking to killed him—it’s a bit unclear. He’s clearly having a conversation with somebody, but there isn’t anybody else in the cab other than the two of you. Either you’re transporting a murderer (not ideal) or an insane person (also not ideal) or both (really not ideal).

But also, he’s almost certainly one of Arkham’s weird-as-all-hell cultists, so who knows. Maybe there is somebody back there, but they’re invisible. Or something.

You double the fare just in case.

You’re pretty sure the man is hyperventilating now. He keeps flexing the fingers of his left hand, staring down at it as he curls it into a fist and then uncurls it. The look in his eyes, a hungry sort of curiosity, is at stark odds with the horrified panic consuming the rest of him. It’s fucking unsettling.

At least the guy in the mask was quiet. And he tipped well.

It’s a low bar to be sure, but hey—money is money. You’ve gotta pay the bills somehow.

The man continues to study his left hand like it belongs in the fucking Met, and to be honest, it’s kinda starting to get to you. It’s funny; you’re hardly fazed by the murder confession, but everything else about this guy kinda makes your skin crawl. There’s something really freaky going on with him, and you want no part of it, you decide.

It’s a relief when you drop him off on the curb outside an abandoned old house and drive away. You wish you could tell yourself that you just won’t pick up people like him anymore, but you can’t. Aside from being utterly impractical, it’s not like you knew what he was going to be like until he climbed into your cab.

And besides, his money works just as well as anybody else’s. And god knows that’s all you can afford to care about.

The man from this morning is sitting in your taxi again. He looks different now—shaken, trembling, haunted. Like he’s seen a ghost, perhaps, or whatever spooky nonsense his kind of people get themselves involved in.

You’ll never understand it—why people join these cults. But you don’t have to. You just have to pick them up and drop them off and keep your mouth shut, and you excel at all three of those things.

You add the surcharge and start to drive. You recognize the provided address as the one you picked him up at a few hours ago—his house, maybe? You try not to be curious, but sometimes, you can’t help but wonder. Particularly when the man begins to talk to himself again, hushed but still very much audible, because it’s not like these cabs are soundproof, are you kidding?

“That is easy for you to say,” he says, sounding equal parts distressed and resigned. “I am losing pieces of myself. My ha—my hand is gone.”

You look in the rearview mirror. Nope; he still has two hands.

“My eyes are gone.”

And two eyes as well. Though they do dart around oddly, in a manner that doesn’t quite match what the rest of his body is doing.

“I don’t know what’s next to leave. For all I know, if you … if you take my mind entirely, I will no longer be able to think.”

Hm. You’re honestly not quite sure what to make of that.

You turn a corner. His building is just ahead.

Most of the other taxi drivers don’t believe in any of the horrible things that are rumored to lie just beneath the surface of Arkham. And they’re probably all the wiser for it, honestly. A good degree of skepticism is healthy in this job, he’s found. It helps you keep your distance, keeps you alive and kicking to see another day.

Still, it’s hard to watch these strange people get in and out of his cab and not believe, just a little bit, that there is something more to it all.

So, fuck it. Maybe there is some supernatural entity living in this guy’s brain or influencing him in some way. Maybe it controls him physically, or maybe it just makes him think that he’s being controlled. Some things are tricky like that, you’ve found—can make you see things that aren’t actually there.

Whatever the case, you … actually feel bad for the poor man sitting in your back seat. He’s clearly had one hell of a day. Exhaustion drags him down, and he gives you the distinct impression of somebody who was dragged kicking and screaming into the realm of the unnatural without being asked for permission. He smells a bit like blood and gunpowder. Normally you’d be put off by that, but it’s overwhelmingly surpassed by the pity you feel for this man.

However. As badly as you feel, as much as you pity him, there’s nothing in this world or any other that could convince you to get involved in his situation by choice.

So you drop the man off at 13 Mosby Avenue, alone in the rain, and drive away two dollars richer.

The last glimpse you catch of him is in the bright white of a lightning strike, high above in the clouds. He looks … taller, somehow. Like his shadow has peeled away from the ground and now looms ominously above, an unholy specter of darkness that winds around him like it’s trying to consume him utterly.

Then, you turn a corner and he disappears from view.

You blink a few times to dispel the image before pulling over to pick up another person who’s hailing you down. The two people who get in your cab seem normal, at least—a mother and her daughter, if you had to guess. They give you their address and then begin chatting quietly amongst themselves. All perfectly mundane.

Christ.

You really ought to retire, you think as you begin toward the next destination. It’s hard out there, and you’re lucky to have this job, but perhaps you’ve been doing this for too long if your eyes are starting to play tricks on you like that.

You ignore the voice in your head telling you that your eyes know exactly what they saw, just as you’ve ignored every other voice in your head over the past decade or so telling you that something is off, just as every other taxi driver has done and will continue to do. You drop off your passenger and pick up another, and if the one after that smells of sulfur and carries a black-stained backpack on their lap, well.

It’s really none of your business.

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #john doe #arthur lester #my writing #my fic #been rolling this idea around in my head for a while and the dreamlands server inspired me to finally write it <3

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jeontaeil-archived · 3 years

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the feeling's mutual //

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pairing: heeseung x fem!reader x sunghoon

genre: smut, threesome, fem receiving, male receiving, unprotected sex

words: 2.36k+

warnings: 18+ content, read at your own discretion

summary: both your fuck buddies turned out to be roommates. but of course you wouldn't find out until one of them walked in on you fucking the other.

~ requested by 🌻 ~

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it was a regular shmegular weekend. you had nothing better to do with your time so you texted heeseung, asking him if he wanted to come over to have some fun.

he replied to you saying that he couldn't come over since his roommate was borrowing his car. bummed, you texted your other fuck buddy sunghoon, asking him the same thing.

sunghoon replied to you in a similar manner, sharing that he was out running some errands and wouldn't be back until another hour at least.

just when you were about to lose all hope, heeseung texted you saying that you could come over to his place instead. since he was home alone you had no concern of disturbing his roommate or getting some privacy. overjoyed, you agreed and got ready to make the trip over to his apartment.

you hadn't been to heeseung's house even once in the entire time that you'd been sleeping with him. there was no specific reason as to why that was. you simply just hadn't found a reason to.

when you got there, heeseung led you straight to his room, promising you that he'd give you a house tour once your 'business' with him had concluded. it was exactly like heeseung to jump straight into action.

as soon as his door was shut your lips were on his and his hands were struggling to rip your clothes off as quickly as he possibly could. you stumbled towards his bed, plopping down on it in a not so flattering way. laughing it off, heeseung rid himself off all his clothes too so that you two were now naked and ready to go.

he started by laying wet kisses down your body, going slow and steady so he could rile you up. you whimpered and sighed, feeling relaxed. when he reached your core, he paused, making sure you were anticipating his next move.

"just get on with it lee," you urged impatiently, though with a hint of desperation. heeseung licked a stripe up your folds, groaning at the taste of your wetness. it had been a while since you'd last met up with him. it was reasonable to say that he missed you. he toyed with your clit, knowing you hated it when he teased. you bucked your hips against his mouth. "don't get ahead of yourself or i swear i'll make you pay for it."

heeseung snickered. he loved being a pain in the ass. though now he chose to stay quiet and give you what you wanted. if he didn't he knew you'd stick to your word.

he sucked on your clit, pulling your hips closer to his mouth almost greedily. you moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on his roots gentle. "fuck! that feels so good," you praised, moving your hips with his tongue. heeseung loved when you did that. there was nothing like some team effort to really get him going.

the harsher he sucked on your clit, the wetter you got. your arousal was starting to pool at his chin. heeseung decided to push a finger into you. of course it slipped in with ease. he curled his digit upwards, making you mewl. continuing to nip on your clit, he began pumping his finger in and out of your needy hole, not stopping until you realised that you were going to cum.

if it was up to heeseung, he would have kept going, wanting to taste every drop of your essence as it flooded down his mouth. but you had other ideas. you didn't want to cum just yet. and if you were gonna cum anywhere, it was going to be on his cock.

heaving, you pushed yourself up and yanked his head to your level. he seemed more deprived than you did and that only showed how much he loved giving.

"let me have some fun with you too lee," you said, switching your positions. heeseung excitedly leaned against his headboard. you gripped his cock, pumping it avidly before releasing a ball of spit onto his tip. spreading it around, you leaned down and licked his tip, looking up at him mischievously.

"you said you wouldn't tease if i didn't tease!" he whined playfully, bucking his hips into your mouth. you pinched his thigh, making him settle down. "patience my boy."

he rolled his eyes and pushed your head down on his cock, bobbing it up and down at lighting speed. choking, you gripped his thighs, caught of guard by the action. when he finally let go of you, snickering his head off, you scowled and caught your breath.

"now shut up and suck," he said bluntly, letting you take the reigns again. you opened your mouth and started moving your head up and down at a steady pace, licking his length every now and then. heeseung groaned in satisfaction, more than pleased.

"are you ready to fuck me now," you asked, pulling away from him to get some air? he shrugged. "are you ready for me to fuck you now?"

unamused, you crawled onto his lap and angled his tip at your entrance. "you're gonna have to work on your humour lee."

heeseung held your hips, kissing your neck while you sunk down on his cock. you bit your lip, rocking your hips gradually.

"you feel so good y/n," heeseung praised, marking your exposed skin. moaning, you sped up a little, needing more friction.

heeseung wordlessly laid you on your back and threw your legs over his shoulders, slipping into you without wasting a minute. he started pounding into you, giving it to you just the way you liked it. the bed began creaking because of how powerful his thrusts were. you were happy to know that he wasn't half assing anything.

his breath was hot and heavy against your skin. they way he grunted in your ear turned you on to the max. your nails dug into his shoulders, a reaction to the immense amount of pleasure he was making you feel.

the two of you were so preoccupied with your steamy activity that you failed to hear the front door open. normally, the footsteps that were coming down the hall would be audible to heeseung. but in this case, even as they approached increasingly close to his door, he was unable to pay any mind to them.

the door swung open abruptly followed by a distressed shout. heeseung froze in place and looked behind his shoulder steadily. the intruder had his back facing the two of you, but you could tell by his expression that heeseung knew who he was.

"what are you doing," he asked, coming off rather annoyed? by his tone you guessed that this wasn't the first time he'd been interrupted by his roommate.

"nothing, i was just checking to see what all the commotion was about," his roommate spoke, slightly alarmed. you furrowed your brows on hearing his voice. for some reason, it sounded oddly familiar to you. then again, it could have just been because he was speaking very restrictedly.

"commotion? fucker you knew we were having sex," heeseung said. the fact that he hadn't asked his roommate to leave yet was alarming you. why was he so relaxed after knowing that the boy had seen him pile driving you while completely naked? they must have been close.

"but you never bring anyone here man! how was i supposed to know," his roommate whined back, peeking at heeseung carefully. you covered yourself with your hands, staring at him wide eyed.

his eyes locked with yours and that's when it struck you.

you knew this guy. you'd seen him before. heck, you'd even slept with him.

what the fuck was park sunghoon doing in lee heeseung's house? why was your fuck buddy standing in your other fuck buddy's door?

sunghoon seemed equally as surprised to see you. he stared at the two of you like a gaping fish. heeseung didn't understand what was going on, and if you were being honest you were pretty sure none of you did.

"y/n? what are you doing here," sunghoon asked, finally finding the words to speak. you had no idea what to tell him. heeseung looked between the two of you. "you know her," he asked sunghoon.

sunghoon nodded and pointed at you. "yeah i do. she literally texted me this morning asking if i wanted to come over."

heeseung looked at you. "you asked me the same thing. what's going on here?"'

suddenly you felt like you'd been backed into a corner. "please don't hate me but," you began, hesitating a little, "i'm sleeping with both of you."

heeseung and sunghoon looked at each other in bewilderment. you felt a little relaxed now that they weren't paying attention to you.

"dude that is so fucking cool," heeseung exclaimed. you blinked, wondering if you'd heard him correctly. "i fucking know right? i can't believe we both got the same girl," sunghoon said, marching over to your side.

were they seriously not mad at you? you were grateful but at the same time, why were they so excited?

"is it alright if i like, join you guys," sunghoon asked, looking at your for consent. heeseung was grinning at you like a madman, eyes practically begging you to say yes. you took a second to see what was in it for you.

two guys with nice cocks who knew how to use them as opposed to one. that sounded like a nice offer. besides, you didn't know how to say no to sunghoon when he was already drooling over your naked body. so you agreed with a nod, laughing in disbelief when the two boys gave each other high fives.

"i can't believe i'm doing this," you muttered to yourself, sitting up so you could reposition yourself. sunghoon took of his clothes and made you lie down on your back again. only this time your head was hanging off the edge of heeseung's bed.

"don't tell me you're gonna make her deep throat you," sunghoon said in shock. heeseung smirked and scoffed. "i always make her do it. hasn't she told you that she loves it?"

of course you'd done this before with heeseung. you opened your mouth wide, relaxing as he pushed his cock inside. shutting your eyes, you waited for him to start bucking his hips forward.

"holy shit y/n we've gotta try this next time," sunghoon said, shoving his cock into your pussy.

you'd never felt so stuffed before. but they way the two boys were fucking you, entering and pulling out at the same time, felt oddly satisfying. letting them do all the work, you simply basked in the pleasure sunghoon gave you, whimpering against heeseung's cock.

sunghoon wrapped his hand around your throat, making heeseung's cock feel even more prominent as he pushed it deeper inside you.

the harder heeseung went, the quicker he was able to pick up from where he'd left off. "fuck i'm gonna cum soon," he warned you, going faster.

trying your best not to gag, you ran your tongue over his cock, helping him get to his climax sooner.

meanwhile sunghoon seemed almost dazed as he fucked you. he wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, more focused on the sight in front of him. it was like a live porno, exclusively for him.

when heeseung finally reached his orgasm and cummed down your throat, sunghoon swore he would have busted a nut right then and there. but then he looked up at heeseung's face and let out a muted snicker.

"you look like a little bitch when you cum," he said, unable to hold back his laughter. hearing him, you choked on heeseung's cum. heeseung glared at sunghoon. "well we'll see what you look like once y/n's done with you."

sunghoon raised his hands defensively, pulling out of you so you could come to his side. getting on your hands and knees, you pumped sunghoon's cock, making him groan. heeseung spread your legs, playing with your pussy.

humming, you brought your lips to sunghoon's cock, teasing him by laying soft kisses on it. he watched you keenly, not an ounce of impatience visible in his features.

just as you took his cock in your mouth, heeseung pushed two fingers inside you. moaning against sunghoon's cock, you clamped your lips shut around it, making him groan.

"that feels nice," he praised, pushing your hair out of your face. you closed your eyes and focused on sucking his cock, walls clenching around heeseung's digits.

heeseung slid underneath you and pulled your hips down on his face, attaching his lips to your clit. pulling off of sunghoon's cock for a moment, you screwed your eyes shut and bit your lip as he sucked on the sensitive nub. tightly pumping sunghoon's cock, you bucked your hips against heeseung's mouth, cursing at how good the pleasure felt.

"ah fuck i'm gonna cum too," you moaned, squeezing sunghoon's cock. he hissed and grabbed your jaw, bringing his tip to your mouth. "let me finish with you," he said, prompting you to suck him off again.

you took him in and resumed bobbing your head up and down, groaning against his cock. heeseung started fingering you again, only pushing you closer to your orgasm. sunghoon too began thrusting his hips forward, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

both you were desperate and restless to reach your highs. heeseung was working hard, curling his fingers into you diligently. the vibrations of your moans bounced off of sunghoon's cock, making his knees feel weak.

"oh my god i'm cumming!" you exclaimed as your much desired orgasm finally hit. you continued stroking sunghoon's cock as fast as you could, squirming about as heeseung lapped up your juices. sunghoon reached his climax unannounced, cum shooting out onto your face. heeseung crawled out from beneath you, still fondling with your pussy, just so he could see sunghoon's face.

"wow i must admit, you really cum like a man."

sunghoon snickered, emptying the last drop onto your tongue. "well you eat pussy like a champ."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

#heeseung smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen smut #heeseung imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #heeseung scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen scenarios #heeseung x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen sunghoon #kpop smut

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luvluvnitrodynamite · 3 years

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naps with jujutsu kaisen characters

ft. itadori, nanami, inumaki

g/n!reader + fluff

itadori yuuji - he LOVES naps, almost more than he loves you. he can nap anywhere at anytime, but his favorite spot is on a couch in the mid-afternoon. you're laying practically on top of him, legs tangled together with both of your noses in your phones. itadori is scrolling without a thought when that familiar sleepy feeling washes over his body. it builds up in his head first, sweeping across his body into the furthest reaches of his cells. he stretches his muscles out, enjoying the languor's flow through his system. he lays his phone on the table next to the couch, and after a pause grabs yours.

"yuuji?" you ask, as your phone disappears over the armrest. itadori's eyes are already closed and he's pulling you even closer into his chest, which is gently lifting and lowering you according to his soft breaths. you softly smile at him, and nestle your head into the crook of his neck. as you readjust, you feel the tension melt out of your body, which suddenly feels a bit heavy. now i'm sleepy too, you think to yourself. you too stretch out your muscles, feeling the pull of sleep already calling. the afternoon sun sweeps over you, providing a soft light through closed eyes. it warms you to your soul, feeling its serene rise through your chest and its soothing whispers of sleep. itadori's presence what really calms you though. as he shields you even in his sleep, you feel as though there is nowhere safer in the world than in his arms. instead of counting sheep, you count yuuji's heartbeats, listening to gentle thumps lull you to the other side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

nanami kento - nanami's schedule very rarely allows for naps; he just doesn't usually allot time for them. he's very strict about his nightly eight hours, and that means no naps during the day. however, there are some days where he's just so tired, from working overtime or maybe just the monotony of daily life, that he can't help falling asleep. when he does, it's usually on accident so he's probably reading something in a chair. his book now abandoned, his face is resting in the palm of his hand with his head tilted off to the side. if he didn't have his glasses off, you probably wouldn't have noticed that his eyes were closed, he looked that stoic. you crept up to his chair, picking up the book and placing a nearby blanket over him. at the touch of the blanket, nanami stirs and blinks his eyes open.

"sorry, i didn't mean to wake you up," you apologize. "hm? it's alright."

nanami's eyes are already closed again and he turns his head to the side. you move to leave, and find that somehow you've moved backwards and fallen into his lap. the blanket is magically rearranged so that it's on top of both of you, and you've shifted so that your legs are dangling over the armrest while nanami's arms have wrapped around you.

guess you'll be here for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

inumaki toge - naps were a common activity for the two of you. it was something sweet and intimate you could do that didn't involve a lot of talking, so this is a weekly occurrence at the LEAST. you both like to nap in the same bed, propped up on a few pillows. inumaki's bedside is adjacent to the window, so you always make sure to draw the curtains before you lay down. inumaki always likes to lay near the window, pushing apart the curtain a little bit so there's at least a bit of light in the room. you like to sleep facing away from the window on your side, half of your face smooshed into the pillow. inumaki faces the same way you do, just so that he can press his body up against yours and sling an arm over your waist. your bodies press perfectly together like long-lost puzzle pieces, and in his sleep he usually traces patterns on your stomach.

today, he keeps shifting so that he can place his head in different spots -- first his forehead is resting on the back of your neck, then moving to your shoulder blade, then resting his chin on top of your head. he clearly is having trouble sleeping today, as he starts playing with your hair and tapping rhythms on your temple. with your eyes still closed, you push back into inumaki's chest, grabbing his hand, bringing it in front of you and intertwining your fingers so that you can sleep in peace. inumaki is :( for a sec, but is too busy admiring the way your hands look together to be upset. your grip on his is a bit loose, so your hand doesn't fit perfectly in his like normal, but somehow it actually looks a bit better this way. he likes the way that your fingers twist with his, angled in a way that reminds him of diametric tree branches kissing in the wind. he traces his gaze up to the wrist, to your arm, shoulder, neck, jaw, and up into the side of your face not smooshed. he studies your profile, noting the calm expression you have on your face. inumaki stays like that for a while, just musing. the hazy tranquility of the day overcomes him, as his eyes slip close and his breathing steadies.

#jjk #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #itadori x you #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you #inumaki x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #inumaki fluff #itadori fluff #nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #inumaki to/ge

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sanzu-sanzu-sanzu · 3 years

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songs about toxic people 7*

Sanzu Haruchiyo X Reader

Summary: In which you are Bonten’s No. 2 and Sanzu is No. 3. Almost ten years of being stuck working together means you’re both bound to pick up on each other’s idiosyncrasies, yeah?

—

*IMPORTANT NOTE: this is more like an interlude/bonus chapter actually centering more on misc bonten x reader Gen! interactions. it still ties in with the whole story, it’s just there’s less to zero sanzu in this one cus the focus will be more on the other bonten haha, so if you’re here exclusively for sanzu x reader, you may skip this if you like! 😬

it’s just i got these headcanons that idk what to do with and also they are somewhat short 😭

—

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

chapter 7: We may not be a perfect family but we love each other (until we don’t) - koko

Koko thinks of cats when he thinks of you; partly from the circumstances of your first meeting, partly ‘cause of the way you sort of simply glide in and out of rooms quietly with the stealth and fluidity of one.

(Although Sanzu had insisted he thought more of ghosts and wraiths, a comment which Koko only made light of even though he wasn’t wrong.)

She even kinda fights like a feline, he’d told Inupi one time all those years ago, as he thought of the way your lithe and minimal movements were always able to take bigger guys down along with the quiet ferocity to match.

Maybe she learns from all the cats back in the shrine, Inupi responded—a joke, essentially, in his own terms. Koko suppressed a smile: cat and dog, you and her, maybe that’s why you two get along so well went his own, sad attempt at humor, because you and your second-in-command were obviously very close and very unlike cats and dogs. The joke, however, sadly did not seem to land, and Inupi’s forehead only creased, his expression dumbfounded.

That’s not how it works.

Koko never forgets the day you were first introduced by Mikey. It’s at the back of Toman’s abandoned shrine, at the edge of the thick forest surrounding the area, that their new leader had said they’ll be meeting Black Dragon’s temporary captain. He never specified what anyone would be doing in the forest at this hour in the afternoon, and neither him nor Inupi had asked, but then there you were: in your bare feet and in your school uniform, attempting to move a big pot of plant from one spot of land to another, your expression almost annoyed. (At the pot, most likely, which did not seem to budge.)

Mikey called your attention still a few meters afar:

“Hey. Whatcha up to—”

in a tone that very clearly did not seem to intend to place whatever you were up to above this particular Toman business at the moment, so really, it would not have made any difference whether you answered or not. Which you didn’t, only glancing at your president once—not with the angry expression, at least—before continuing with your ordeal.

The pot nudged just a tiny bit.

Only when Mikey finally stopped right in front of you and you noticed Koko’s and Inupi’s figures behind him did you finally stand straight, looking at Mikey quizzically. “What’s up?” Quick nods to Inupi and him. “Hello.”

Mikey briefly introduced all of you and proceeded to explain that you were to be formally placed as the Black Dragon’s new captain today, to which your eyes slightly widened.

“Oh, I thought you said tomorrow.”

Mikey hesitated at first but then shrugged. “Hm, they came here already today so I thought might as well. Come on, it’ll be quick.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and then to his two quiet companions but then so agreed anyway, and as Mikey ushered you in front nobody else aside from Koko seemed to notice your lack of shoes. You’d only taken a few steps ahead when you tugged at the sleeve of Mikey’s coat, making him pause.

“I don’t have my Toman jacket,” which was obvious but was not what Koko was expecting for you to say, if he were to be honest.

Mikey looked at you blankly. “Well, where is it?”

“Well, something happened to it,” was your only vague response, but then you turned your head to where you just came from making all three boys follow suit. On a wooden bench slightly obscured by the plants were a family of cats consisting of a mother and her kittens, all sleeping peacefully in a cozy pile on top of your balled up Toman jacket.

“Oh. Okay.” Mikey only nodded like he completely understood. Without thinking about it twice, Sano Manjiro, Tokyo Manji gang’s No. 1—feared around the streets of Tokyo, bowed to no one and stepped over everyone—took off his billowing Toman coat and draped it over your shoulders. “Here, you can borrow mine,” he simply said. “I mean, you gotta look the part.”

Your mouth stretched into a grin.

Beside him, Inupi gave Koko a quick, wordless glance accompanied by that tiny, upward curve on the corner of his mouth that anyone else could’ve missed. Inupi rarely smiled at anything anymore those days—perhaps one of the reasons why this singular, initial meeting had stuck in his mind all these years. It’s one of those memories Koko always thought he could probably live without, occupying a quiet little corner in his mind which, frankly, a much more practical or life-changing memory could have occupied, if it were up to him. But then there you were with your cats and your air of schoolgirl abandon making Inupi smile, an information that he simply didn’t know what to do about.

“Alright, boss. But please, no speeches.”

This made Mikey laugh. “Can’t promise you that, I’m sorry.” It’s only after a few more steps that Mikey did finally notice your bare feet.

“Where the hell are your shoes?”

“Oh, they got wet,” you quietly said. “I was playing with the cats…” and three pairs of eyes stared at you like it wasn’t enough of an answer. “With a hose. Manjiro, I was watering the plants.”

And so you stood atop the shrine steps while addressing the men from Black Dragons, your feet bare and covered in scratches and the Toman president’s much bigger coat over your shoulders. Nobody questioned the absence of shoes—at least not out loud—not with your leader Manjiro right by your side, in his flip flops holding a half-eaten taiyaki in one hand.

The memory comes unannounced in snips and pieces some years later as another Bonten meeting ends. There’s various movements around the table by now, but then Koko catches your undivided staring as you sat across from him, your chin propped up against one hand. He ignores you for a short while as he fixes his things, until he finally decides to look up.

“Anything wrong?”

You suddenly purse your lips in a small smile amidst the gloomy and rigid air of mid-morning Monday meetings and for a moment, it’s as if Koko is thinking of another memory.

“I just realized you kinda look like my Mr. Kaku,” is all you say. The little remark makes not-your Kakucho look up from the document he’s reading without really turning his head, while Rindou who is seated beside you squints—in curiosity or amusement, Koko can’t tell. From his own right side, Takeomi is slowly angling his head as if meaning to take a better look at Koko behind his curtain of silver hair.

Mr. Kaku, of course, is your pet cat, the one with the smooth silver fur that you’d rescued from an abandoned site during an out-of-town business trip some months ago. You and your unimaginative pet naming sense landed on “Mr. Kaku,” in honor of your then-partner Kakucho who had volunteered to keep the cat inside his bag thru the doors of the hotel that didn’t allow pets. But he looks nothing like Kaku, Manjiro had quipped, earning a few grunts of approval from your ever-biased circle, but you couldn’t have been bothered so you stuck with the name.

Koko is quick to decipher that in your-speak, cat comparisons are more or less compliments and never a form of insult—not that in your mid-20s, you all haven’t already gotten above petty verbal affronts, after all. So he humors you, eyes now back to his things but with his attention still on the matter at hand. “What, is it the hair?”

“Yeah, it’s the hair,” Rindou says before you can answer, his head lolling lazily on one shoulder. “Can’t believe no one had noticed before.”

“And the eyes,” you simply nod. “They both got these nice, sharp eyes.”

Would you have named him Mr. Koko if you thought he resembled Kokonoi before? is the one lingering question that none of the men around you bother to ask.

It’s only a couple of weeks later, after another Bonten meeting, when Koko hands you a souvenir from his weekend business trip: a red cat collar with a customized pendant, a tiny enamel engraving of your Bonten tattoo. The pendant is black on one side and gold on the other, and the small gasp you let out makes every head in the room turn—the almost unfamiliar, genuine sound of delight thawing the usual morning’s stern atmosphere.

“There’s a shop right across the hotel where they make rush engravings like that.” Koko is saying casually like it’s no big deal, but he sees the expression on your face and he can’t help but grin. “Thought Mr. Kaku might like it.”

Your eyes perk up at the mention of ‘Mr. Kaku’ like Koko is the first person to ever acknowledge that Mr. Kaku doesn’t need to be named anything else apart from ‘Mr. Kaku.’ “Oh, it’s perfect, Koko. I’ll send you pictures once I make him wear it,” you say, your attention instantly back to your hands, choosing to ignore his ‘I think just one picture might be enough.’

From the other end of the room, Sanzu is making his way towards the door. “Congratulations,” he smirks as he passes by behind you, quirking one eyebrow up at Koko. “Now she won’t be shutting up about it all weekend,” because Sanzu will be spending the next three days with you over in another city to conduct business with another drug scion, of course.

Across the table, Kakucho only sighs before shaking his head. “I still wish you could’ve picked a better name for your cat,” he says—a valid complaint, Koko thinks bemusedly, now that your own Mr. Kaku looks more like a feline version of himself.

chapter 8 >

this one goes out to my closest friends the ones who make me feel less alien

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es-kay-zee · 3 years

Text

Double or Nothing | Lee Minho & Han Jisung x Reader

pairing: jisung x reader x minho

genre: smut

warnings: non-idol au, dom! minho, sub! jisung, sub! afab reader, established polyamorous relationship, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), cum eating, humiliation, hair pulling, degradation, praise, pet names, sir kink, choking, swearing, edging, overstimulation

requested: nope

word count: 5.2k

proofread: yes :)

taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms @hyunsluvv @qtieskz @etherealeeknow @arohabangtan @channelhan @minholuvs

(can't tag): @doyoungsjohnny

____________________

as soon as you read the message that your package was out for delivery, you were excited, practically waiting at the front door for it to arrive. you’d bought it four months ago, and when it was taking so long to show up, you’d started to think you’d wasted your money on something you weren’t going to get. but here it is, finallyarriving. you watch the postman place it on your doorstep, waiting for him to drive away so you can swing the door open and grab it.

as soon as you have the package in your hands, you rush down the hallway, almost running to the bedroom in excitement. you place the package on the side of the bed, shaking jisung’s sleeping form in an attempt to wake him from his sleep. it doesn’t work, you’re slumbering boyfriend continuing to snore away, barely even stirring.

“wake up!” you shout, grabbing one of the pillows and smacking him with it. he begins to move slightly, and you can tell it’s working. you hit him again with the pillow, over and over until he eventually sits up.

under normal circumstances, you’d take a moment to laugh at jisung’s bedhead, but right now, there’s too much excitement running through your veins to even notice the way his hair sticks up at odd angles. instead, you pick up the package again, holding it up and smiling widely at jisung, waiting for him to notice it. but alas, he doesn’t notice, moving to lay back down and go back to sleep.

“hey, don’t you wanna know what i’ve got?” you ask, waving the package slightly.

“what have you got? just tell me,” he mumbles, eyes already closed once again.

“the outfits arrived,” you answer, and that finally wakes him up properly.

he sits up again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before looking at the box in your hands. he grabs it from you, impatiently prying it open and carefully pulling out the contents.

“i forgot we actually ordered these,” he says, holding one of the matching maid outfits up to look at it.

“are we sure minho’s gonna like them?” you ask, a small bit of doubt creeping into the forefront of your mind.

“well, if he doesn’t, then that’s his problem. either way, we’re gonna look so fucking good,” jisung says, smiling wide as he continues to look at the item in his hands. “where is he, anyway?”

“he went out for lunch with his parents, remember?”

“oh yeah, that’s right.” he pauses, turning his head to you, and you can tell from the look on his face exactly what he’s thinking, especially because you’re thinking the same thing. “how long before he’ll get home?”

“not sure, i can text him and ask,” you say, already pulling out your phone and opening the messages between you and minho. you start typing, asking him how long before he might get home. it’s only moments before your phone buzzes with his reply.

minho <3: maybe an hour. why?

y/n: we just miss you, that’s all

he doesn’t respond, and you know that he’s aware of the real reason you’re asking. he can tell that both you and jisung are needy and waiting for him to come home.

“we have about an hour,” you say, turning to jisung, and he drags himself out of bed at your words. “where are you going?”

“to shower,” he replies, walking towards the bathroom. “because i’m not gonna be stinky when our boyfriend gets home.”

“ah, that’s a good idea,” you reply, deciding to scroll aimlessly through various apps on your phone.

“are you saying i stink?”

“always.”

he scoffs, but you can tell from the upturn at the corners of his mouth that he’s just pretending to be insulted. “well, you’re always stinky as well.”

“am not.”

“are too.”

it’s childish, the way you and jisung always banter with each other. but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“just go shower,” you say, shaking your head.

“wanna join me?” he asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

“nah, your hands like to wander, so i’ll just shower after you,” you reply. “just don’t use up all the hot water.”

it takes almost 40 minutes for jisung to emerge from the bathroom, a towel loosely hanging around his lower half. but you don’t even take a moment to complain about how long he took, only opting to glare at him as you zoom past him and into the bathroom.

you shower faster than you ever have before, stepping back out of the bathroom, clad in a towel, in record speed. 10 minutes to be exact, which is quite quick for you, who usually showers for upwards of half an hour. as soon as you step into the bedroom, you’re greeted with the sight of jisung, already dressed in his outfit. he spins around upon hearing your soft footsteps, and the view of him is even better from the front.

you love it, the way his strong arms stick out from the short sleeves, the way the skirt rests around his thighs. the fabric hugs his torso perfectly, accentuating his tiny waist.

“how do i look?” he asks, and you respond with an approving nod and a thumbs up.

jisung smiles at your reaction while you grab the other maid costume. you quickly dry off the rest of your body, excited to put on the new clothing. if you look anywhere near as good in it as jisung does, then you’ll be super happy. you pull the garment on, turning to face the mirror once it’s in place, jisung walking to stand next to you, also looking at the reflection. he was right, about what he said earlier, you both look so good.

“what now?” jisung asks.

“now, we wait for our hot ass boyfriend to get home,” you answer, moving to sit on the bed. he follows you with a soft whine. jisung’s the impatient one, always getting himself worked up then complaining when no one helps him straight away.

you begin scrolling through your phone once again, jisung doing the same. and you can tell he’s getting himself worked up, judging from the way he keeps inching himself closer and closer. you, however, ignore him, determined to wait patiently for minho to come home. you fall into a steady rhythm, scrolling aimlessly, and the time ticks by quietly. or, at least, it was quiet until jisung lets out a frustrated groan.

“where is he? he told you an hour, and it’s already been an hour and a half,” he huffs, and you’re not surprised at his response. nor are you surprised when you face him and find his cock hard, pressing against the front of his skirt.

“he’ll be here soon, just be patient.”

“but i’m tired of waiting,” he pouts, placing a hand on your thigh. “what if we had some fun before he gets here?”

“you’re too horny for your own good, sungie,” you reply with a slight eye roll, feeling the way his hand rises up. a content sigh leaves your lips when his hand finally reaches your pussy, a lone finger running through your slick folds, already dripping with arousal.

“see, you’re just as turned on as i am,” he huffs, continuing to move his finger slowly, teasingly. and he’s right. while you’ve been waiting for minho to show up, your mind has been wandering, thinking up all the different possibilities for what he’s going to do when he sees you both, and you’ve been getting more and more worked up with every passing minute.

“but i, at least, know how to behave myself and wait patiently,” you retort, trying to hold back the whines bubbling in your throat.

“well, i don’t see you stopping me right now,” he says, his finger beginning to rub small circles into your clit.

“oh, shut up,” you say, voice somewhat breathless as you bring your hand up to jisung’s aching cock.

it’s almost instantaneous, the moan that he lets out when you wrap your hand around his length, slowly rubbing your thumb along his slit. you slowly pump him, and his hand stills against your clit, his brain momentarily short-circuiting at the stimulation you’re providing him. it only takes a few seconds for jisung to regain control of himself, moving his hand so that his fingers prod at your entrance. he slides the digit in, quickly adding a second while you continue to jerk him off leisurely.

he curls his fingers inside of you, causing you to let out a particularly desperate sounding moan. you pump jisung’s cock faster, losing yourself in the feelings of the moment, loving the way his fingers drag along your walls. you can feel the beginnings of your orgasm starting to grow, the knot forming deep in your stomach. but you can tell from the chorus of shameless whines and moans tumbling from jisung’s parted lips that his orgasm looms much closer. his cock twitches in your hand, so close to a release, but a voice speaks up from the doorway, halting your movements.

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

you pull away from jisung, his fingers leaving you while you ignore the irritated whine he lets out from his orgasm steadily fading away. you stare at the doorway, eyes wide as you look at minho standing there, his arms folded across his chest and his expression none too impressed.

minho walks towards you, each step somewhat menacing, and it’s obvious that he’s not very pleased with what he found you and jisung doing. he brings his hand up, gripping your chin tightly between his finger and thumb, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

“tell me, lamb, which one of you was the impatient one?”

he doesn’t have to ask; he already knows the answer. it’s jisung, it’s always jisung. but you tell him anyway, finding some joy in telling on jisung. minho shakes his head in disappointment, frowning at the younger boy.

“was my pretty boy too horny to wait just a little bit longer,” he says, and you watch as jisung’s ears grow redder and redder. he cowers slightly under minho’s stare, the older man being entirely unimpressed with jisung breaking the rules. “what do you have to say for yourself?”

“i’m sorry,” jisung says, his voice quiet, meek, and he keeps his eyes trained on the bed underneath him, unable to look minho in the eye. minho just tsks in response, saying nothing more about the disobedience, knowing the best way to punish jisung is with actions, not words.

“do you like our outfits?” you ask, kind of annoyed that you’re not getting enough attention.

minho’s eyes scan over you and jisung, and you can tell that he loves the way you both look.

“of course i do, you both look so cute in your little matching outfits,” he smiles, gently cupping your face and rubbing his thumb along your cheek.

he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and you smile into the kiss, enjoying the gentle moment. but it’s interrupted by jisung’s soft whines. he pouts his lips, silently asking for a kiss as well. minho rolls his eyes slightly, but you can see the soft smile on his face before he leans over to jisung and kissing him. minho steps back, grabbing the chair from the corner of the room and placing it at the end of the bed, ignoring the confused looks from you and jisung.

“now, my pretty pets wanted to play with each other, so you’re gonna keep playing. but you’re gonna do it the way i tell you to,” he says, sitting down. “so, y/n, as adorable as you look all dressed up for me, i want you to strip.”

“yes, sir,” you say, eager to please. you slowly stand up, reaching behind you to undo your outfit before slowly sliding it down your body, being sure to sway your hips enticingly as you do so.

“that’s my good little lamb,” he says, making you smile at the praise. “now, sungie, sit with your back against the headboard, and y/n, i want you to suck him off.”

you wait for jisung to settle into his spot before you move into your position between his legs, lifting up the skirt of his outfit to reveal his still throbbing cock. just as he did before, he moans the second you take him into your hand, slowly pumping him a few times before bringing him to your lips. you press a chaste kiss to the tip, relishing in the soft hiss he lets out at the minuscule contact. you can’t see minho, but you can tell that he’s smirking at you both from his seat, enjoying watching the way you tease the desperate boy in front of you.

“p-please don’t tease me, y/n,” he whimpers out, bringing his hands to tangle in your hair.

“shut up, sungie. you’re lucky i’m not trying you up in the corner to just watch,” minho spits, and jisung’s mouth instantly closes at the words.

you place another kiss along his slit before finally, licking a stripe up the underside of his cock. your tongue moves slowly against him, painstakingly slowly, and he lets out the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard. it’s a beautiful sound, and you want to hear it again. you pause, waiting a few seconds before licking another stripe, moving just as leisurely as the first time, and you’re rewarded with another desperate whine, jisung wanting to ask for more, but knowing minho will stop you if he does. you lick once more before finally taking him into your mouth.

the only sound better than his whines is his moan upon finally getting to feel the warmth of your mouth. it’s low, guttural, bordering on being a groan. and it sounds like heaven. it sounds like a sinful delight that you’re all too happy to indulge in. you hollow your cheeks, sucking harshly on the tip of his cock before bobbing your head once, taking as much of him as you can before pulling away. you release him with a soft pop, swirling your tongue around him twice before moving back down his length, setting a calm pace with the bobs of your head.

you can feel him twitch in your mouth, his earlier lost orgasm already beginning to return. you hold your head down, feeling him deep in your throat. you moan around his cock, loving the way the vibrations make him rut his hips upwards, causing you to gag slightly. jisung’s legs start to tremble, his moans rising in pitch, and you can tell he’s getting close to his release.

“oh f-fuck, i’m gonna-” he stutters, eyes screwed shut and his hands tugging softly on your hair, a weak attempt to keep himself grounded.

“cum on their tits,” minho’s voice speaks up, and you’d almost forgotten he was even there, watching, observing the way you swallow around jisung’s cock.

“b-but-” jisung whines, wanting to cum down your throat.

“but what? you should be grateful i’m even letting you cum at all,” minho responds.

but, just like jisung, you also want him to cum down your throat. you want to taste him, want his release to coat your tongue. so, you don’t stop, continuing to bob your head up and down with new vigour, trying to make him cum before you can be stopped. but minho gets there first, moving from his chair to you in the blink of an eye, moving jisung’s hands from your hair and harshly grabbing a fistful of it himself, yanking your head back so that jisung’s cock falls free from the confines of your lips.

jisung is quick, taking his cock into his hand and pumping quickly, not wanting to lose his orgasm for the second time. minho presses one of his hands against your back so that you arch it, your chest protruding outwards. jisung pumps himself once, twice, before you feel the warmth of his release hit your tits. you hang your mouth open, tongue out in an attempt to taste at least a drop. but you’re out of luck, his cum only splattering across the expanse of your chest.

you watch jisung’s hand slow down, jerking himself off until he comes back down from his high. he lays limp against the bed, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. minho lets go of you, moving towards jisung. he gentle strokes the younger boy’s hair, telling him how well he did. but the softness only lasts for a moment, minho yanking against jisung’s hair, pulling his head back so that they’re looking each other in the eye.

“lick it off,” minho orders, voice stern. jisung goes bright red, blood rushing to the surface as his face heats up in embarrassment, and you can practically feel the warmth radiating from him from where you’re sitting.

the look on his face is a marvel to behold, a perfect combination of humiliation and desire. so utterly embarrassed at the mere notion of it, but also so devastatingly turned on at the idea of licking his own cum from your breasts. he nods his head, moving so that you can take his place. you lie down, your head resting upon the pillows, jisung hovering over you.

minho stands up, returning to his chair at the end of the bed, watching as jisung’s head lowers to your breasts. jisung looks up at you through his eyelashes before pressing his tongue flat against the soft flesh of your chest.

there’s something so filthy, so dirty about watching him lick his own cum from your skin. something so entirely erotic about the trails of saliva he leaves behind. you moan softly when his lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking softly on the sensitive bud. he’s quick to let go, though, moving his lips and tongue across, wrapping his lips around your other nipple as well. and it’s not long before his cum is cleaned from your tits, jisung turning to face minho, waiting to be told what happens next.

“good boy, sungie,” minho says, and jisung perks up at the praise, loving to hear that he’s doing a good job. “what do you say to y/n for making you cum?”

jisung turns back to face you, and it’s adorable, the way he looks so shy. but he says his thanks to you anyway, his cheeks a soft shade of pink.

“it’s your turn to give, pretty boy. y/n made you cum so now you can do the same to them.”

“yes, sir,” jisung says, moving so that his face is in front of your pussy. you’ve ignored the throbbing between your legs for long enough. and it’s only now, with jisung’s breath delicately hitting your dripping folds, that you realise just how desperate you are for some kind of stimulation. for any small amount of contact that can bring you the release you need.

his tongue darts out of his mouth, quickly swiping up from your entrance to your clit. you let out a broken moan, your hands flying to tangle in his hair and your eyes closing tightly. jisung’s always been good at this, making you feel good with his mouth. and as his tongue dips into your hole, you can’t help but feel as if you’re floating amongst the clouds.

he only adds to your pleasure, however, when he brings his fingers to prod at your entrance while he sucks at your clit. he curls his digits, working your g-spot for the second time today and it makes your back arch. you tug at his hair, pressing his face harder against you, greedy for more. and jisung is happy to provide. he thrusts his fingers into you faster, humming against your clit. and the vibrations feel like electricity, setting off every nerve ending in your body.

you slowly open your eyes, and you’re greeted with one of the best sights. minho sits on his chair, clothes in a pile on the floor next to him, his hand wrapped around his hard cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you being eaten out by jisung. jisung’s fingers pumping in and out of your walls feel divine, but the addition of knowing that minho’s watching, and that he’s getting off to it as well, is enough to make the knot in your stomach grow faster.

you look down at jisung, and you love the way he looks. his maid outfit still covering him, his eyes closed as he relishes in the taste of you. his hands wrap around your thighs, grip firmly holding you in place, and you can see the way his hips rut against the edge of the bed.

the knot grows, steadily coiling tighter and tighter until you’re waiting, with bated breath, for it to unravel. with a particularly delightful curl of jisung’s fingers, you’re cumming, your legs shaking on either side of his head. he works you through it until you’re only left trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

minho stands up, signalling for jisung to do the same, and the younger boy does, standing beside the bed awaiting instructions.

“strip,” he says to jisung, and he does, quickly ridding himself of the maid outfit, tossing it unceremoniously into the corner of the room.

jisung stands still, cock hard once again, and you can see on his face how much he’s struggling to stop himself from wrapping his hand around himself. minho ignores him for a moment, helping you manoeuvre yourself so that you’re laying sideways across the bed, your head hanging off the edge. he climbs on the bed, positioning himself between your legs before finally acknowledging jisung once more.

“you’re gonna fuck their throat again, sungie,” he says and is quick to continue when jisung pouts. “and don’t complain. if you were good earlier, then you might’ve gotten to fuck their pussy, but you weren’t. so, you’re gonna take what you get and be grateful for it.”

jisung huffs slightly but says nothing further as he lines himself up with your opened mouth. he takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head of his cock along your lips, his breathing uneven from the knowledge of the pleasure that is in store for him. minho does the same, sliding his tip up and down your entrance, gathering your wetness. and only when you whine softly, a quiet beg for more, do they finally both push into you.

it’s kind of funny, the way they both simultaneously pause when they’re bottomed out, catching their breaths, needing a moment to recover from how good you feel wrapped around them. it feels like a lifetime before they begin to move, and it’s immediate euphoria, the way minho’s cock drags along your walls, every single one of his thrusts deep and purposeful. his hips move slowly into yours, wanting to truly feel the way you clench around him. and jisung’s thrusts are the same, calculated, determined, savouring the way your throat constricts his cock in just the right way.

you keep your eyes closed, just letting yourself feel the way they’re making you feel, the almost overwhelming pleasure you’re being provided. you can feel the drool dripping from the corners of your opened mouth. you can hear the grunts and groans from both of your boyfriends, you can smell the unmistakable scent of sex in the air. and you can taste jisung’s precum on the back of your tongue.

you’re careful of your breathing, being sure to take breaths at every opportunity. you lift your hands, gripping tightly onto jisung’s thighs while minho’s hands do the same to your hips. his fingers dig into the flesh, and you know that the skin there will be littered with a bunch of tiny bruises. but you don’t care, bruises are a small price to pay for total pleasure, especially when they don’t hurt at all.

jisung’s hands cradle your head, and he watches the faint outline of his cock in your throat. the sight alone draws a moan from his lips and sends a shudder through his body. your attention is brought back to minho when he begins to slowly rub at your clit with his thumb, and your body jolts slightly from the pleasure. you clench tighter around him in response, making his hips stutter for a moment before he regains his steady rhythm.

“fuck! c-can i cum? please? i n-need to,” jisung pleads, his thrusts into your mouth growing sloppier and sloppier as he gets closer to his orgasm.

“of course you can, sungie. go ahead and cum for us,” minho says, and you pick up on the tone with which he speaks. you can hear the almost sinister undertones in his words, but it’s obvious jisung doesn’t, because he releases down your throat with a moan.

he thrusts a few more times until he comes down from his high before stilling inside your mouth. he’s panting, trying to catch his breath before minho speaks up again.

“now, keep going.”

“huh?” jisung’s confused, it’s written all over his face. and there’s slight fear in his eyes. he’s well aware of what minho’s order means, but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“you wanted so badly to cum earlier, even breaking the rules to try and do so. so that’s what you’re gonna do. you’re gonna cum again.”

jisung’s frozen in his spot, and you press your hands harder against the back of his thighs so that he can’t step away. you take the chance to catch your breath as much as you can, taking deep breaths in through your nose while you wait for him to move again. but he doesn’t, each time he tries to thrust again his body shivers in overstimulation, and it stops him. minho takes matters into his own hands.

he thrusts into you with more force than before, causing you to moan around jisung as well as lurch towards jisung. you swallow around him and the younger boy whimpers from the overstimulation, his knees almost buckling beneath him, but you can tell he loves it.

minho grips your thighs, lifting your legs so that they wrap around his torso, and he’s able to thrust into you better, the slight change providing the perfect angle for him to reach deeper inside your tight walls. you can hear his breathing getting ragged, the warmth of your pussy starting to get to him, and his hips stutter every few thrusts.

minho lets out a shaky moan, and you clench around him as tight as you can, beginning to grind your hips up against him for some added friction, while jisung finally regains control of himself, managing to restart shallow thrusts into your throat.

all the nerves in your body are alight once more, and you can feel the knot forming again. you continue moaning around jisung’s cock, and the vibrations are sending him hurtling towards another release of his own. you can tell that minho is also nearing his end, his breathing is heavy, his thrusts are getting sloppy. but he doesn’t want to be the first to finish. he slides one of his hands up your body, leaving goosebumps in his fingertips’ wake before reaching your neck. he wraps his hand around your throat, and jisung’s the first to feel it. he feels the way your throat envelops him tighter, and he lets out such a desperate whine before cumming down your throat without warning. you swallow around him, feeling the way his thick cum slides down the back of your throat. his legs shake when he steps away from you, and he’s quick to lay down on the bed beside you.

minho’s hand stays around your throat as he continues to thrust into you, and he rolls his hips expertly. you’re close, so damn close to your orgasm. but you need something more, anything more, and jisung and minho can both see that. they both know what to do, minho leaning down and bringing one of your nipples into his mouth, while jisung wraps his lips around the other.

they both work in tandem, almost in sync as their tongues flick and swirl over your buds and it’s mere moments before they have you right there, standing on the precipice of ultimate pleasure, teetering on the cliffside, so close that a small gust of wind could push you over. but you fall, of your own volition, into an earth-shattering orgasm.

your entire body moves on its own, writhing, trembling. your head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, legs shaking and twitching around minho’s torso. your back arches, your hips buck up and down over and over again. you’ve never had an orgasm so good, so exquisite, before. minho can tell from the way your walls grip his cock tighter than ever before, the way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan that just can’t seem to escape the confines of your throat.

the almost unbearable tightness of your pussy sends him over, triggering the orgasm that he’s been fending off for longer than he’d like to admit. you’re still lost in the pleasure, blissed out from the best orgasm of your life when minho releases inside you, painting your wall white. it’s only when you both have come down from your highs that both boys detach from your chest, jisung flopping back against the pillows while minho gently pulls out of you.

“you guys good?” minho asks, leaning back, propped up with his arms. you and jisung nod, happy smiles on both your faces. “good, then i’ll go grab us some water.”

he slowly stands up, catching his breath before heading out of the room. you use the moment to quickly go to the bathroom to clean yourself up. and by the time you return to the bedroom, minho is already there, two glasses of water in his hands and one more in jisung’s. minho hands one to you as you sit back down on the bed. it’s not until you drink the cool liquid that you realise just how much your throat aches. it’s faced a lot of use over the course of the session, but you know a scratchy throat is only temporary.

“i really liked your outfits,” minho says, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled in the room.

“thank you,” you and jisung say in unison. you both giggle before you continue.

“i bought them months ago and started to give up hope that they’d even show up.”

“then it’s a really good thing they did because they just might get a lot of use,” minho replies, smiling. “did you both have fun?”

“of course! it was really good,” jisung responds first.

“yeah, i really enjoyed it,” you say.

“i’m glad.” minho grins wider, happy that you both enjoyed it. it always makes him happy to know you both had fun. “what shall we do now? get in the hot tub or watch a movie?”

“who says we can’t do both? hot tub and then a movie,” jisung says.

“i second that motion,” you add.

“alrighty then,” minho replies. “then that’s what we’ll do.”

all three of you make your ways out of the bedroom, stopping to grab a towel each on the way to the backyard. and as you all reach the hot tub, jisung and minho both pulling back the cover, you’re just excited to sink into the nice hot water with both of your loving boyfriends.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #skz jisung smut #skz han smut #skz lee know smut #skz minho smut

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keigelsss · 3 years

Text

A Super Sweet Secret - Gojo Satoru

Merry late Christmas ya filthy animals ;)

Mega thirst moment based on this post and I think it just fits this fucker so well. I wrote part of this at 3am and I hate it so much ... fellow Gojo fuckers come get ya food.

Warnings: 18+, my shitty writing, language, mentions of alcohol, Gojo using infinity (had to do it on em), smut, DIRTY TALK, fingering, oral *fem receiving, overstim, squirting, uh… the pet names are super self-indulgent too oops, literally every grammatical error you can think of (please let me know if I missed any warnings I don’t wanna upset anyone or make anyone uncomfy. That being said minors pls DNI!! I don't feel like blocking anyone today)

Word count: 2.25k (i do be getting carried away)

How do you go about explaining your current situation to the higher-ups if you get caught with him? Do you tell them that, instead of getting pointers on how to guide students down the right path, you’ve been indulging in some very explicit acts with the man who is supposed to show you the ropes? No. That’s not right either but in all honesty, it would have been a lost cause from the get-go. Gojo Satoru is the least traditional in his teaching methods and is without a doubt a troublemaker but his antics are a part of what makes him so charming. It’s that same charm that finally made you cave and accept a coffee date with him on the next day you both had off.

You don’t know exactly when it happened but little by little those morning coffee dates turned into mid-day snack runs, then dinner and overindulging in desserts at the other’s house. Everything took an unexpected turn when you went a bit overboard on the sake one night. The next morning you woke up naked on your couch, the sun in your face, a pounding headache and a large man clinging to your body like a koala. As much as you wanted to maintain a professional relationship between the two of you, it was so hard to not crave another taste of him. He couldn’t resist you either, one bite and he kept coming back for more.

You two are definitely going to get into some serious trouble for this.

After stressful days of exorcising curses Gojo likes to unwind with a sweet treat from his local bakery and you by his side. He’ll find it ridiculously adorable if you have a bigger sweet tooth than he does. On the walk back to his house, you both snag a pastry from the bag of goodies and laugh at the other for not being able to wait until you reached your destination. The two of you arrive shortly after but Gojo decided he wasn’t entirely satisfied...

“Hey, sugar?” he asked while removing his sunglasses, his eyes entirely focused on your movements. You started to place what was left of the little cakes in a dish that was used specifically for the sweet treats of the day, he quickly recalled how you made fun of him for the fancy crystal platter but he admitted to being a bit extra like that. “What’s up trouble?” He let out a soft chuckle and got closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders leaning down to rest his chin on top of your head. “Trouble? That couldn’t be me.” you placed the cover back on the platter and put your hands on his arms settling back into him slightly. “You only call me ‘sugar’ when you want something from me, so what is it?”

Now that was true, he had a list of pet names for you that he liked to pull out for certain occasions and you caught onto that quickly. It’s really not fair at all how he can make innocent words sound so damn sinful when he wanted to tease you. You turned to face him now, his hands resting on either side of you. He leans down and places a feather-soft kiss on your lips, so soft it’s almost like he’s not making full contact with you.

“I thought we didn't do those things when it was just us together like this?” Your eyes fluttered open and he came back in for a real kiss, his hot tongue lingering lazily on your bottom lip but not enough to excite you. He does that on purpose. “I know but it’s just the thought of it, I can tell you're thinking about it too.” He reached for the dessert dish and picked up a small cream filled pastry, he took a bite and offered you the other half. You knew it wasn’t an accident when he got the filling on your lip and chin. He used his thumb to clean up the mess he made then licked it clean, he is actually evil but even if you do hate him sometimes you can’t find it in you to resist him.

“C’mon Y/n, don't you think it would be interesting to try while I go down on you? Just a little bit?” You bit your lip at the thought and he was already excited for your answer. He was right, the idea of him between your legs, devouring you but not quite. Being able to feel everything between the two of you but not making an actual connection. it ignited a small fire within you.

“We can try it once but I can’t promise that I'll like it.”

Truthfully that was all he needed to hear before he began to strip you of your clothes, leaving you completely naked. His large hands began exploring your body, grabbing onto any dip and curve he can find while placing sloppy kisses on your neck. He used both hands to get a firm grip of your ass, lifting you onto the cold marble countertop, you let a small moan escape you at the feeling and he placed a wet kiss on your lips. Tugging on the fabric of his long sleeve you brought it up and off revealing his defined upper body, you could drool if you didn't have some self control. “Satoru not too much okay? It’ll drive me crazy when all I want is to feel you.” The whimper that fell from your pretty mouth was almost enough to make Gojo cum in his pants, you swore you saw hearts glowing in his bright blue eyes. “Don't worry princess only a little bit. Besides you know my sweet girl always gets what she wants.”

If there was anything that came close to what you picture heaven was like, it would definitely be the equivalent to Gojo’s strong, slender fingers expertly rubbing your folds. He always found every sweet spot and applied the perfect amount of pressure without you having to say a word.

“Baby, did I make you this wet?” He used his thumb to spread your slick around, creating a delightful rhythm on your clit. Hips trembling when he grazed that one spot that practically had you gushing for him.

“Yes! It was yo- oh fuck that feels so good!” you leaned forward, resting your head on his chest, admiring the way his fingers looked so mesmerizing covered in the pretty shine of your juices. “You know you're the sweetest thing ever right? So damn delicious. I can spend hours between these sexy thighs of yours.” His breath is hot on the tip of your ear and that smooth voice sends shockwaves throughout your entire body. His free hand wrapped around your thigh and gripped below your knee, shifting the angle at which his fingers were exploring your overly sensitive hole.

“Are you gonna let me make you cum with my mouth? Let me taste how sweet you are?” his lips started to trail the sides of your neck down to your chest. He left a series of kisses on each breast, sucking lightly on your stiff and sensitive nipples. “Ah Satoru please! I want- Ooh want your tongue.” He licked a stripe across your tummy then placed a soft kiss on your belly button, he moved your thighs once more and found a position comfortable for the two of you. Your legs resting nicely on his shoulders while he rubbed circles on your hips and waist. “Look at this gorgeous pussy,” a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “So pretty.” another kiss on your swollen clit, you couldn't help but arch your back off the counter, grabbing a handful of his soft hair. He nibbled on your thigh and a sharp whine fell from you. “Remember to behave sweetheart, I'm supposed to be going easy on you.” His chuckle vibrated against your hot mound and you let out a sigh, releasing some tension from your hands on his head, allowing him to do what he wanted with your body.

Gojo’s tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, curling and sucking at the special spot that only he knew about with perfect accuracy. The buzzing sensation that you normally felt when he's down there was reduced to an incomplete static, like your nerves weren’t fully receiving the information of his movements. Now that? That was different. It really was infinity… a barrier he controlled entirely, the rolling of his tongue feeling more like a whisper of pleasure that was everything and nothing at the same time. You were right to think it would drive you crazy but in the most euphoric way possible. “Oh my god it feels s-so good! P-please don’t stop baby I’m so fucking close.”

The large kitchen was filled with desperate sounds of pleasure and the soft squelching of Gojo’s fingers inside your quivering cunt. This feeling was new but you were instantly hooked. It didn't take long for you to fall over that glorious edge with a broken moan of his name and a string of curses, making little to no sense at all. A deep groan erupts from his chest as he takes in every drop of your release in satisfaction. His gaze found your blissed out expression and he decided to ease up on that invisible veil between you, fingers slipping from your tight whole. You clenched around nothing and the loss of his fingers filling you was enough to nearly make you cry.

“That‘s my favorite flavor right there sweetheart.” he spent some time admiring the way you looked coming down from your high. The rise and fall of your breasts with every breath paired alongside the slight shaking in your limbs from how intense the orgasm was. You're a work of art to him, truly, especially like this. Opening your eyes you find his stupid gorgeous face resting on your thigh, licking his lips simply enjoying your taste. You ran your fingers through his hair one more time before softly squishing his face with your legs, letting out a breathless giggle while regaining some grasp on reality. “I w-want more, but let me feel all of you for fucks sake!”

He instantly obliged, diving right back in, using only his tongue, setting a languid pace. His animalistic groans against your over sensitive pussy were a telling sign that he was enjoying himself, probably ridiculously hard in the confines of his jeans. The thought of his cock deep inside of you was enough to get you shamelessly turned on all over again. If it weren't for his hands on your hips, rubbing easing circles into your soft skin, you would be a convulsing mess on the hard marble beneath you. A dull ache was beginning to form in your lower back, but you could care less. Gojo's tongue was working wonders on that delectable bundle of nerves of yours. His hands started trailing upwards and fondling your breasts, your spine arching under his touch as he pinched your nipples. You both made eye contact and he could tell that you were close to another release, your entire body was starting to shake. “Ye-yeah baby I’m gonna f-fucking cum.” his tongue never relenting on you. You were on the verge of screaming, your thighs were probably strangling him at this point.

“Mhm my little honeypot. Are you gonna make a mess?” he growled delicately against you.

That was also new but holy shit it had your brain short circuiting. Honeypot?! Damn you really could make a mess and that was exactly what you did. His relentless attack on your clit was blinding but so fucking delicious you didn't want it to end. You squirted all over his face, covering his neck and chest with a stream of your juices. The added stimulation of his abilities, and the shock of this new pet name clearly having an impact on your intense orgasm. it could possibly be the best you've experienced. He was aware of that fact as well. “I love when you do that.” honestly you did too. The aftershock of it all had you both mesmerized, your body just a quaking mess, panting and moaning. You struggled a bit to get air back into your lungs but Gojo's hands squeezed on your waist reassuringly. Your hips were beginning to relax and he once again found a place to momentarily rest his head on your thighs.

He huffed a small howl of amusement. You could instantly tell what he was so giddy about. “So? Honeypot?” you questioned him, not in a judging manner but out of curiosity and excitement. “It kind of just came out of me in the moment.” You couldn't help but laugh at his answer, a fitting response. You took a second to relish in the sight of your cum and his sweat tracing his brow. It will forever remain a mystery on how you managed to get so addicted to the world’s biggest pain in the ass, but here you were.

That evil little smirk made another appearance on his face while he brought himself up to kiss you, the taste of yourself was very much present on his tongue and soft lips, you screeched in excitement. He swiftly lifted you off the counter and began his trek towards his bedroom.

“Are you maybe just a bit more curious on what else I can do to that pretty body of yours?”

yeah this is trash uh if you read this sorry for the lack of seasoning in your food

tags: @bobabybo @ibukiirisha

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quicksilverrwrites · 3 years

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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you can’t sleep and neither can peter, but at least you both know exactly how to comfort one another. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

It’s eleven-thirty, and you can’t sleep.

Your thoughts shift to your lessons in the morning; to how tired you’re going to be; to that iced coffee you’d had while getting your assignment done after class; about how that drink was definitely a bad idea considering how you’re lying awake now. It had tasted good then, and it had given you the energy you needed to fire out five thousand words in the span of a few hours… but now you regret it.

Sighing, you roll over. Your eyes glaze over the objects on the nightstand beside your bed. Your alarm clock, rectangular in size and wooden in material, glares at you. Eleven thirty six. Eleven thirty seven. The time seems to spiral, and you realise that you might as well do something with yourself if you’re awake.

You eye the books stacked on top of the alarm clock; you’d been reading one before and it had bored you half to death, so you can’t bring yourself to pick up any again. What else? What else?

Your gaze settles upon the picture frame on the dresser next to your nightstand, and you let out a sigh as you settle upon the silver-haired speedster within it. You’re next to him, a mere blur since he’d sneakily taken the camera from your hand and taken a picture with an expression that radiates cheekiness, but you’d liked the picture enough to keep it.

You’ve got a few more picture frames scattered around your room—photos of you with Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Kurt. Even some of Charles. You might not be close, but he is your uncle, after all. He’s still family.

And yet it’s Peter you keep your eyes on. It’s Peter's mischievous aura which calls to you across the room.

What would he be doing right now? He’s probably playing video games or practicing on one of his guitars. You’d been surprised to see him play well; you’d been surprised to see that he actually had the attention span it takes to successfully learn an instrument. You would know: your mother used to nag you about practicing the piano to perfection. Practice makes perfect, she’d always said, and yet she’d always left out how much energy it took to practice in the first place.

Is it too late to reach out to him? The two of you have a specific way of speaking to one another across distances by now, although even the thought of doing such a thing due to the time seems rude. Your mother had always told you that it was your duty to be polite, and your father had by example. You think you picked it up from him rather than her, but—

Don’t think of him right now. Don’t think of what happened. Don’t.

As if in an effort to push the memory of that night from your head, you move. You pull the drawer attached to your nightstand open to reveal a mess of junk inside, but what you need—and what you spy—is a pen and paper. You pull it from the drawer and slam the nightstand drawer shut quietly, and after, you get to work writing:

Are you up? Can I come over?

Your fingers buzz with azure energy as you feel your mutation working in your favour. A tiny portal of blue opens before you, one you could make larger if you wished but one which you keep small for now. It’s no larger than a letterbox would be, and the faint sound of music from the other side tells you that Peter is very much awake.

You slip the note through the portal, and then you leave it open as you wait.

When you receive no response for a solid fifteen seconds but can hear movement on the other side, you wonder if this was a mistake after all. It’s too late, you scold yourself, mentally preparing for rejection. Oh, god, this is going to be awkward. What if he—

An empty Twinkie box falls at your feet.

You blink at it, momentarily confused, and then you pick it up. You glance about the dessert’s display as you begin to turn the box over in your hands. Nothing on the front, but on the back—

Scrawled in pink glitter pen—probably his sister’s—, the box reads on the back: Yeah. Come through.

You grin lazily as you set the box down on your bed and extend the portal with your fingers like you’re prying open a heavy door. The orange light from Peter’s basement slips through and becomes one with the light of your dorm, which is yellow and warm with your room’s wooden accented walls and flooring. And as you slip through the portal and your bare feet touch the soft tartan carpet of his room, you let the portal shut with a soft shum behind you—

But Peter Maximoff does not look his best. In fact, he looks downright miserable.

His eyes are red as if he’s been crying, his hair is messy—messier than usual, at least—and he’s wearing a band tee and some tartan pajama bottoms that look intended for comfort rather than style. You were about to say hey, but you stop in your tracks. You tilt your head as you look at him.

Peter is still. It’s strange, especially since he’s usually so eccentric. He blurts out, “What?”

You frown, momentarily stuck for what to say. “Nothing,” you respond, but it doesn’t seem right.

Peter stares at you. You stare at him. You’re both quite similar, so it strikes you then that you both know that you’re each not telling each other something.

“You okay?” You ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. It’s a rigid movement. “Yeah,” he says, far too confidently to be true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You narrow your eyes on him. His tone of voice has all but solidified your suspicions. “Okay, first of all,” you say, crossing the small space of the room between you and the sofa, “you use a very distinctive tone when you lie.” You settle down on the sofa as you cross your legs under you. “Second, your eyes are really red. Have you been—?”

“No.”

Crying, you were about to ask, but he cut you off. You narrow your eyes again.

Peter sighs and averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Tonight’s just… not a good night.”

You press your lips together as sympathy wells in your eyes. “Why not?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us."

Peter inhales deeply, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the sofa next to you. You’re used to how fast he moves by now. Something warms your heart in the way he sits with his body angled towards you. Like he’s opening himself up to you.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He asks.

You glance at the other end of the sofa and then back to him. You’re reminded of how he took the sofa to sleep on that night after you guys got caught in the rain. “Here?”

Peter’s brows rise. “Is my basement not fancy enough for you?”

You know he’s joking even despite the lack of humour in his tone, and you let out a small huff of laughter as you flash him a lazy smile. You sit back on the sofa, reaching out your hand to intertwine it with his. Things between you are still blooming after your first date, but you both feel comfortable enough to do this. Peter’s fingers wrap around yours as he starts drawing patterns on the back of your hand with his free one.

“I just mean,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the backdrop of quiet music, “won’t your mom mind?”

“She didn’t mind when you stayed over last time.”

Your lips quirk upwards in gentle amusement. “That time you slept on the couch. This time I was thinking, I mean, if you want to, then maybe—”

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. His head lifts upwards in a sort of understanding motion. “Yeah, I mean… ah, I can deal with whatever safe sex talk she wants to give me in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant maybe we could…” Oh, god, embarrassment— “cuddle.”

Peter grins. “Cuddle, huh?” He pauses, until— “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching an arm around the back of the couch to wrap around you. “I guess I could be down for cuddling.”

You snicker softly as you lean into his touch, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me why you looked so upset when I arrived?”

Peter tenses. “It wasn’t because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” you murmur, “I think I’m confident enough in our relationship to know that your reaction when seeing me is generally excitement rather than the dread that accompanies sad under eyes and red markings around them.”

He pauses for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath of defeat. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mm,” you murmur, looking up at him. “A little.”

His lips twist to the side as he lowers his gaze. “I was thinking about my dad.”

It’s your turn to pause now, looking up at him in a way you didn’t before. You assess every detail of his body again: the way his shoulders slump, the way his head hangs low, the way his hair falls in the way of his view and his eyes are heavy with something you haven’t seen in him before. He’s usually so full of life.

Is this what he’s hiding deep down?

“Tell me about it,” you say softly.

Peter grimaces. “It’s a long story, and the stupid thing is it’s mostly my fault.”

Frowning, you sit up and face him. “I don’t believe that.”

Peter lets out a humourless laugh that might be bitter if he showed a hint of anger, but he doesn’t. “It’s true. The only time I’ve ever been too slow and it’s in finding the most…”

He trails off, pulling his arm away from around you so that they both now rest in his lap. He continues, “It’s a mess.”

“Start from the beginning."

So he explains, if not vaguely: about trying to find his father, about finding a house empty and police arriving on the scene. Peter had fled at the sight of them, and—

“His name’s Magneto,” he admits. “Erik Lehnsherr. You’ve probably… seen him on TV or something."

Suddenly, it all adds up. You weren’t at school to see what happened with Apocalypse, but you’ve heard about it from your friend group. Peter doesn’t talk about it very much, and now you know why; had he been part of that whole adventure because of his father? He hadn’t been involved with Xavier’s School before, that much you know.

You suck in a breath. Okay, Y/N, push the fact that his dad’s a known terrorist aside— “Does he know?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. I screwed it up. And now I’m right back where I was before all of it, because I have no clue where he is and no way of telling him the truth. I couldn’t even do it for Wanda.”

“Hey,” you murmur, your fingers moving to cup his cheeks. “Fight or flight, right? It’s normal. To see him right in front of you—to have to muster up the courage to tell him? Knowing what a change that would be for you? Peter, that’s normal.”

Peter’s eyes well with softness as he listens to you, gazes upon you, and you think you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable as he lowers his head to your shoulder. He takes in a shaky breath; wraps his arms around you; pulls you into his lap—

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your shirt. It’s not his shirt this time; you’re wearing a pyjama set that consists of blue silk shorts and a top. “Not sure I believe you, but thanks, Y/N.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Aside from mind control? Not sure.”

You press your lips together and begin to stroke his hair. “To be honest,” you murmur, “I’m not sure I’d believe you if you tried to tell me something similar about my father, either.”

Peter lets out a choked laugh. “Maybe that’s why we work together.”

Your lips curve upwards, still stroking his hair. His face is still buried in your shoulder. “Maybe,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

Peter shifts so that he’s leaning against the back of the sofa and you’re in his lap again. You turn so that you’re straddling his waist, but your fingers find his jaw to cup the skin there. Your thumb brushes soothingly against his skin.

“You mean a lot to me,” Peter murmurs, staring up at you. It’s almost as if the music in the room has stopped; it’s almost as if the two of you are the only souls left in existence. His brows are slightly raised and there is awe in his voice as he says, “I don’t really believe you’re real half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Definitely real, Peter. Definitely here.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone riddled with amusement, “and here of all places. You could be anywhere. You’re like, perfect and—”

“Ssh,” you murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Peter tilts his head up towards you, a silent request for consent, and you kiss him in answer.

He wraps his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your tongue slipping out to meet his own. He makes a low, guttural noise between pleasure and content at the feeling of it, and your free hand clutches at his shirt as your other hand remains at his jaw.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, whether it's on the sofa or in his bed, but in those moments together there’s nothing carnal about it. Your touches are soft and comforting rather than lustful and yearning, and as much as you’ve thought about him that way before, you know that now’s not the time.

Tonight, you both need this. Tonight, your sole purpose is to be there for one another.

“And for the record,” Peter murmurs between kisses, his words random and uncalculated, “I think your tragic backstory’s way worse than mine.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #xmen imagine #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #xmen fanfic

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

The Spring Bird Survival Guide

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(So many of you have asked for a part two of my rutting Hawks fic. I gave in! I have no idea how this holds up compared to the first, but I hope you enjoy!)

Read Part 1 if you haven’t! This takes place directly after those events!

Words: 10k (WHOOPS)

Warnings: None, except for an absurd amount of scene transitions that hopefully don’t get too confusing.

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

Tuesday

The chorus of songbirds can be heard right outside of Hawks’s window, their small shapes dashing past and making the peeking sunlight flicker across the bedroom. It sounds like it’s gonna be a beautiful day. He’d be elated, if he wasn’t feeling so ill already.

The fever and itch were coming back, like a hot rash that he couldn’t scratch because it was inside of him. He was really hoping to never feel such a hellish sensation ever again.

He slowly peeled the thick sheets off, making sure not to disturb his bedmate as he sat up. There’s no way the quirk’s effects were returning, is there? Last night, the feeling had only gotten weaker with every passing hour. Now it has returned, not in full force, but once again difficult to ignore. He peered over his shoulder to check on his guest.

You were still sound asleep, worn body supported by pillows all over as if you were in danger of falling apart. While Hawks was healing that night, your aches had only gotten worse. He at least managed to convince you that you were in no condition to drive back home and the safer choice was to stay at his place. You were still wearing the clothes he gave you, while he himself donned only a cozy pair of pants. Such a shame that you didn’t take kindly to his request to sleep nude together. Seriously, what was even the issue? He’s already seen every inch of your body, and in every angle possible.

Every hot, sweaty, mouthwatering angle possible.

The internal fire suddenly rushed to his groin, making him slap a hand over his mouth to muffle a groan. He shouldn’t be around you in this state; might as well get up early and prepare for work.

The moment he was on his feet and stretching, a buzz was heard on the nightstand. Your phone vibrated against the smooth wood as it lit up and revealed the caller’s name.

Ah, the good ol’ deputy.

What that nagging old man wanted was between him and you. It wasn’t Hawks’s right to force himself between whatever matters the two of you had to discuss.

Those facts aren’t going to stop his nosy ass, however.

The phone was snatched from the stand without a second thought, the hero walking out of the room as quickly and quietly as possible before answering. “Mornin’, sir,” Hawks greeted. You were the only ‘superior’ he could toy with; any unruly behavior around the actual important people came with a high risk of punishment. Taking his frustrations out on you has been a blast, but after the bind you freed him from yesterday…

“Hawks? May I ask what you’re doing with your handler’s phone?” The deputy questioned.

‘I completely wrecked her last night. The poor lady didn’t survive.’ He considered the joke for a second, but decided that the stuffy bastard wouldn’t appreciate it. “She’s still snoozing. Yesterday was pretty rough on her. I think she deserves a little slack.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” he said sternly, like he was offended that Hawks dared to make a suggestion. Hell, he probably was. “Well, since you’re here, I suppose I can ask you directly. How are you feeling? Has the quirk worn off?”

His wings flapped and fanned himself. “Oh, so much better, sir! You guys have the best solutions to everything, don’t you? Never doubted you for a second.” Truthfully, if his moral compass was more stable, he’d say that offering an unsuspecting woman to him like some maiden sacrifice was just a little twisted. He can’t help but wonder if he would have refused if he was thinking straight at the time.

“Very good. So you are not feeling any lingering effects? Do your usual rutting symptoms feel stronger at all?”

“Eh…” Hawks hesitated. Should he bother trying to hide it? If there’s anything he’s learned from his mentally taxing undercover work, it’s that half-truths are often the best answer. “Feels like it’s still floating around in me, but nothing to worry about. It won’t be getting in the way of my work.”

“That’s great to hear. We don’t want you hurting your image with any more of your brutish displays in public. Please keep those special traits to yourself.”

That made his lip twitch. It really shouldn’t bother him. The Commission has always expressed their distaste for his more animalistic habits, but fuck, would it kill them to at least show some pity when it’s his very own instincts that are causing his suffering? “You got it, sir.” His calm response didn’t betray his irritation.

“And if you do start having issues, then I recommend that you turn to your handler again. In fact, I was calling to inform her that we have found a more competent individual to replace her.”

Oh. That’s…ouch.

“Really? I kinda like her,” Hawks admitted. It’s pretty awkward to be discussing your possible termination on your phone during a call that was meant for you.

The deputy gave a dry laugh. “Of course you do. She has absolute zero control over you. I was hoping you were mature and disciplined enough to not take advantage of her inexperience, but I suppose I was expecting too much of you.”

Yeah, he kinda was, honestly. No argument there. “So sorry, sir. I won’t let it happen again.” Maybe.

“You better make sure of it. As I was saying, we’ll keep her around in case you are in need of more relief. Once your hormones have stabilized, I will give her the news and you will be rid of her.”

Hawks actually snorted from just how fucked up that plan was.

The cruel man ignored the sound and went on. “Can I trust you to stay quiet about this? I’d rather not have to deal with any constant badgering for however long this goes on.”

‘Totally! There’s no need for her to know that she’s only being kept around to be my fucktoy and then get fired immediately afterwards.’ Man, what an organization that he works for. Too bad they have him whipped and incapable of defying them. “Your secret’s safe with me, sir.”

“Good. Well, this call didn’t go as planned, but it was satisfying enough. I’m expecting you to remain in top condition during your duties. Do not disappoint us.” He hung up without waiting for Hawks’s response.

The winged man didn’t even notice the perspiration quickly coating his body until the phone nearly slipped out of his slick hands. As he returned to his room and placed your device back where it was, he couldn’t help but watch your sleeping form.

You were always cute, he’s not gonna lie about that. Finding new ways to embarrass you on the job became a new type of thrill for him. Your blushful glares never got old.

But he never thought that he’d see you like this, or the state that you were in yesterday. His mind was barely there as he was shrouded in that prankster of a villain’s quirk, but he could still feel you all over his extra sensitive feathers. He was practically drowning in you at the time.

The smell of your arousal. The taste of the glaze on your pussy. The sweet songs of pleasure. The look of overwhelming bliss on your face.

Your soft skin, and your hot wet opening that he wanted to invade over and over again…

“Keigo?”

He doesn’t know when you woke up, or when the hell he crawled into the bed with his face so close to yours that he could feel your breath. “Uh…”

“Are you alright? You’re looking feverish again. And…” You looked down in concern, and Hawks followed your gaze to see the full erection that totally snuck up on him.

“Whoa! Sorry about that! Little guy doesn’t know when to quit.” Hawks scooted away, trying and failing to hide the tent in his pants.

You attempted to sit up, only to wince and settle back down. “Dammit, I can’t believe how much I’m hurting from yesterday. This is embarrassing.” You groaned and snuggled up to the many pillows.

He couldn’t resist planting a kiss on your forehead, ignoring how the brief contact made his hardness twitch. “Sorry, angel. Really wish I wasn’t such an animal back there. Just stay still; I’ll get you some fresh water for your painkillers.”

You look like you wanted to say something, but decided on closing your eyes and trying to relax instead. “Thanks.”

He was already rushing out of the room, heading into the kitchen to fill the empty glass while considering dowsing himself in the cold tap water.

Why, why the fuck was it coming back? Just looking at you was making his vision foggy again. It can’t be his rut; it never made him this excited before. He didn’t have the courage to return to the bed, alternatively placing the cup onto a hardened feather and floating it back to you. He stayed where he was, leaning against the sink and wiping at his face. The heat remained at a manageable level as long as he kept his distance from you, but he wanted to stay close. He had to stay close and protect the woman he was now mated to.

Wait, what?

“Keigo?” He heard you call out and was pulled from his confusing thoughts. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Hawks gave a laugh that didn’t sound all that convincing to his own ears. “Bad news, babe. I think I’m still a horny bird,” he confessed.

There was a pause. Maybe you had taken a sip. “I don’t know if they told you, but when the deputy explained your…situation, he said that the symptoms of your rut will probably be amplified until it’s over.”

Ah, the old man did mention that over the phone. He only had about a week of his yearly phase left, but if this all means intensified aggression and arousal, not to mention the attachment to the lady he just banged for several hours…

This was going to be a very difficult week.

“Babe?” He said just loud enough for you to hear.

“Yes?”

“…I really fucked up by not taking my meds, didn’t I?”

He didn’t exactly hear your sigh, but it was still felt through his wings. “I’m afraid you did.”

Yeah, this was all his fault. This bullshit would only be half as painful if he was still taking his stupid hormone medication like he has been for years. Not only do these unrestrained imbalances feel foreign to his body, but Libido’s quirk practically put them on steroids.

The medicine’s side effects don’t sound all that bad anymore.

—————

Hawks had already eaten a slice of leftover pizza by the time you finally mustered up the strength to get up. The feel of your entire lower body cramping made you whimper and stumble.

He was already scrambling back in to catch you and hold you up, his high body temperature startling you. “Thank you,” you said wearily.

He froze for a second before jumping back, the sudden loss of support almost making you fall anyway. He wordlessly strutted over to his wardrobe, withdrawing a fresh pair of underwear.

You looked away when the pants were pulled down and his hardness sprang free. He’s not just going to ignore that, is he?

“Keigo, do you need to…do this…again?” You asked, tuning out the throb of your muscles.

He chuckled as he began to dress himself . “You are not up for more sex, baby. Don’t even act like it when you can barely stand.”

You huffed. “You’re getting really hot again and you shouldn’t go out feeling like th—”

“Nope.” His boner is covered again, somewhat. He stares at the obvious protrusion before shrugging and retrieving his hero outfit.

Even with your aches, you had the grit to push on. “As long as you go slow, I can probably handle it.”

“Mmmm, can’t promise that,” he murmured while momentarily detaching his wings in order to squeeze into his tight black shirt. “The second I’m inside you, I might lose control and shatter your pelvis.”

That’s horrifying, but… “I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me.”

“Keigo…”

“And don’t get too attached to that name, dove. Can’t have it slipping out in public.”

“I wouldn’t do that. I’m not stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me, since you’ve offered me your tender pussy twice already. Do you want me to pound you into mush?”

“Language, Hawks!” You strictly reminded him, undeterred by your wobbly legs as you tried to remind him who was in charge.

Hawks shot you a look, his face crinkled into furrowed eyebrows and a crooked grin, a look that screamed ‘Seriously?’

“Listen, ma’am, wood happens. I’ve dealt with it plenty of times like any other guy, so I’m telling you that I don’t need to bang to get rid of this.” He pulled up his tan loose pants, the bulge not as obvious, but still visible. “But if you really insist on ordering me to fuck you silly, be my guest.”

You weren’t exactly going to do that, it’s just that Hawks was acting so unfazed by his strong arousal, but his body was very clearly telling a different story. His breathing was heavier than necessary, and every time after he made eye contact with you, it’s like he had to spend a minute to compose himself. However, if he’s confident that he can endure…

“Fine,” you sighed, watching him suit up with more interest than you cared to admit. You hobbled on out and into the kitchen.

“Need help, granny?” You heard him offer. “I can fly you to your place if your legs still aren’t working.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled in annoyance at both him and your uncooperative limbs. The fridge was yanked open and you frowned at its contents. The pizza and chicken wings were the only real food he had, the rest being sugary snacks or microwave meals. Looks like ‘keeping a healthy diet’ will have to be added to your Hawks Maintenance list.

The flaps of wings were heard behind you as Hawks headed for the door, fully geared up and ready for hero work. “Welp, you’re a big girl that can handle yourself. Drive safely, babe. Can’t wait to hear what you have to nag me about at the office.”

“Hmph,” you gave a smirk of your own when you turned away from the humming microwave. “Probably about the next mistake you make for all of the internet to see.”

He waved dismissively and opened the door, the morning sun illuminating him with an enchanting glow. “Come on, have some faith in me. I’ll be careful.”

Crimson wings spread as he steps outside, but the door closes before you can watch him take off.

—————

Buzzfood.com

HAWKS SPORTS STIFFY ON THE JOB

Written by Yuki Burushito

Now, I know that I’ve been posting enough Hawks-related articles to last a year, but can you blame me with all the weird behavior he’s been exhibiting this month? You probably think that I have a boner for the guy, but let me tell you this: one of us has a boner, and it isn’t me.

Everyone’s favorite hawk was hiding a woodpecker in his pants today. The best part is that it apparently lasted hours, given that it was mentioned in several incidents throughout the day, but the clearest example was when he subdued a mugger at noon, which was filmed by a bystander and is already making the rounds across the web.

Yet another extreme apprehension from Hawks—though it doesn’t top the beating he gave to that frisky peacock—I sure didn’t expect the fast-working hero to swoop down on a fleeing thief and slam him into the ground. I’m certain that a few feathers would have done the job just fine. When the pinned mugger felt Hawks Jr. poking at his back, he lifted his busted face off the ground and screamed, “Is this shit turning you on?!”

While everyone is currently having a field day with that meme-able clip, the answer is most likely no. Hawks was hard before the mugging occurred. Since I’ll probably be writing about him again by...I don’t know, tomorrow, I’ll cut to the chase. You have probably heard the theories that Hawks is experiencing some sort of rut.

Well, it’s time for me to come out and say that I fully support those theories. “But Mr. Burushito!” I hear you say. “If this is something as regular as a rut, how come he’s never acted this wild before?” My answer to that is: I have no idea. He’s still a rather young man; maybe whatever sexual cycles his body possesses have only started appearing recently.

Honestly, you can never be sure with mutant types. Their bodies never make any damn sense.

“I take offense to that last sentence.”

You didn’t react to Hawks’s comment as you both read the article on your phones. After seeing multiple images of ‘Hard Hawks’, as he’s been nicknamed, taken by several random civilians and shared on their social media accounts, you knew it was only a matter of time before these petty news sites decided to take a bite out of the fresh meat.

Maybe this was your fault for trusting the hormonal bird that was currently seated in front of you while you stood across his desk. The only reason you aren’t scolding him right now is because he already looks so damn miserable. He had removed his protective headphones and visor right after finishing his patrols. A desk fan was turned to its highest setting, blowing directly into the hero’s sweaty face as he tried his hardest to focus on the small screen in his hands. He hasn’t looked at you since you’ve entered the office, but distressed or not, there was a certain matter you had to discuss.

“The deputy apparently called me this morning,” you started, ready to see how he reacts.

You notice him tense for just a second as he continues to scroll through whatever it is he’s looking at.

“It says that I had taken the call, but I sure don’t remember that. What I do remember is that you were awake before me.” Your hands were on your hips, waiting for Hawks to answer to your unspoken accusation. “Well?”

He still stared down at his phone, but it didn’t seem like he was actually looking at anything, his mind elsewhere. “Yeah yeah, I talked to him,” he admitted groggily.

You’re more angered by the fact that the deputy never bothered to call you back, leaving you in the dark from whatever he and Hawks had discussed. “So, what did you two talk about? You know, during my call that was meant for me?”

Hawks finally laid his glassy eyes on you. The energy surrounding him was drastically different from this morning and it made you just a tad anxious. Your body truly didn’t feel up to it when you offered him more sex this morning, but you knew it would be better than him reverting to another delirious state. “In a nutshell, he wants us to keep fucking until I’m better.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “What? He didn’t think it was important to tell me about this?”

He leaned far back into his chair and smiled, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. “Guess not. But hey, you’re doing your job anyway, already serving yourself to me the minute you see a hard-on.”

You glared, considering storming out of the room and calling that asshole immediately. “I don’t appreciate him expecting me to be your personal whore.”

“I know, I know. He’s a real douche, isn’t he? How about we both blow off some steam?” He was already scooting out of his chair and making his way around the desk. “I’m just making one mistake after another. Shoulda just said yes to you this morning. Never pays to be a nice guy, does it?” His voice was sounding rougher with each word, like his throat was changing into a sandpaper tube as he stopped right in front of you.

You trembled, making the mistake of looking down and spotting the erection that was very much still present.

For the sake of your still-burning body, you might need some time to mentally prepare for this. “Alright…but before we leave, just let me—”

“Leave?” Two hands clasped onto your shoulders hard, holding you in place. The raptorial eyes held yours captive, stirring up a heat within you despite your unease. “We’re doing this right here, right now.”

“Wha-I-but-” Your stutters were ignored as he turned you to the desk and bent you over, your back muscles screaming in protest. All of his weight was pressing into you, his deprived cock pushing against your ass.

“And everyone’s already left for tonight, so it’s just you and me.” He’s eagerly yanking your pants down then does the same for his own.

His fingers wasted no time in groping your sex, the swipes against your folds triggering a steady flow of slick arousal. There should be no one else in the building at this time, but your paranoia still makes you clap a hand over your mouth as you gasp from his sinful touches.

“Mmm, already getting wet for me?” He cooed behind you, his breath feeling like heat emanating from an open flame. “My brave little hen, willing to take as many poundings as she can.”

That’s a pet name you haven’t heard before. Teeth scrape across the space between your neck and shoulder while the head of his cock lubricates itself along your fleshy petals. When he pierces you with a strong jab of his hips, the light nips on your skin become a full-on bite, muffling his own cry. For you, however, the sharp sensation of being filled so suddenly combined with the pain of his teeth pinching into the crook of your neck had you wailing through your hand.

He was already setting a quick pace, giving your bitten area a few apologetic licks before leaning back to properly grip your hips and plow you. Your entire body was rocked forward with each impact, the harsh stroking of your inner walls bringing forth a raw pleasure that you admittedly missed.

But that wasn’t enough to ignore the resurging aches all over you. Your sensitive ass cheeks have become very familiar with slapping against his abdomen, every pleasurable collision also shooting pain up your lower back, and his probing dick was showing no mercy to your delicate insides.

“Haw—ah, Hawks! You need…you need to slow down!” You quavered.

The only response was a series of savage pants and growls as his violent movements continued, informing you that all of his sense and reasoning has disappeared once again. You remember the warning he gave you this morning, and fear that his quip about breaking your pelvis may have been more than just a joke.

You try to twist yourself just enough to see his face and speak to him more directly, but a hand on your back shoves you hard onto the desk, leaving your breasts and belly to scrape against the wooden surface. At least you weren’t fully stripped for this.

How the hell did this happen so fast? He was speaking just a minute ago! Do the after-effects of Libido’s quirk ruin Hawks’s mind that quickly the second his dick touches a pussy?

A moan was being ripped from your throat with every thrust as he upped the speed and force. He was showing no signs of stopping, and your thighs were beginning to cramp. The mixture of colorful pleasure and throbbing pains was making every inch of you shake. His fierce sounds were becoming distant—even with your legs on the verge of giving out and your back muscles crying, you welcomed the fog of bliss that was ready to carry you away.

Your poor legs finally crumpled like frail sticks, only for the frustrated animal behind you to lift your hips up until your entire body was on the desk, arms now dangling over the edge. There was only enough time to reposition your numbed limbs into a low doggy position before Hawks was climbing onto the desk himself, crouching over you and wasting no time in continuing his pummeling.

“Haw…ah…nngh…” Your feeble attempt to speak was quickly squandered. The new angle allowed him to easily strike your more sensitive spots, making your moans even louder. The desk jolted with each powerful jerk of his hips, the feral hero’s wings extending and flapping in sync with his thrusts, papers flying off the desk from the gusts of wind. Through all of the soreness and delightful trembles, you wondered what the current scene looked like to a spectator—the sight of this delirious bird beast, sounding a loud lustful tune of primal urges and carnal desires as he hysterically claimed you.

Your eyes roll back as the hot ripples in your core grow into pulsating waves, Hawks’s unwavering strokes prolonging the intoxicating climax as you quiver under him. You thought you heard a sound from the staggering desk—a snap—but your mind was too far gone at the moment to care.

Hawks tried desperately to keep pumping through your tightening walls, but your delicious grasp on him was draining his stamina. You were gripping the edge of his workspace for dear life, the orgasmic throbs still wracking your body as he rabbit fucked you, ready to fill your womb with the load that has been prepared since morning…

It all happened in slow motion...the sound of wood and metal breaking, the weightless feeling of falling...you had registered it all just a second too late. Your abused body dropped with the collapsing desk, Hawks’s weight crashing down on top of you while papers slowly floated toward the floor. Both of you laid there in agony, the chair somehow falling over and onto Hawks for added insult. A few groaned words revealed that the winged man was fully aware again.

“Augh, fuck…my balls.”

—————

Wednesday

“Here’s all of the completed paperwork, Hawks sir!”

Hawks beamed at the intern entering his office with a stack of papers. “Ah, thanks, Springer! You’re a real lifesaver, ya know that?”

The aspiring ‘Bouncing Hero’ hopped excitedly on his peculiar coiled legs as he handed over the documents. “Thank you, sir! I’m always here whenever I am needed.” He bowed respectfully. “Although, I just…forgive me for feeling the need to remind you, but please do not forget that I took this internship to do hero work, not to sort and fill papers.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget,” Hawks assured him, taking the cursed heap of papers. You were usually the one that he shoves all of his office-related tasks on, but whenever you were preoccupied, he would pass the burden onto a trainee that was too starry-eyed to acknowledge that they were being used. Yes, he feels a little bad, but his hatred of reading endless forms was too strong for him to care much. “I gotta test your patience and comprehension first, then I’ll be taking you out into the field with me. You’re doing great!” He bullshitted with a smile.

Springer perked up at the words. “Of course! I’ll keep doing my best!” His eyes kept drifting to the large empty space in the room. “Sir, what happened to your desk?”

Hawks looked over at the open spot, feigning surprise as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh, right. I banged my handler on it ’til it broke.”

“…”

The teen searched the man’s eyes for several long seconds, looking for something, before bursting into boisterous laughter. Hawks joined in with his own chuckles.

“You’re very funny, sir! But I don’t think she would appreciate such a joke. Whatever happened, I hope you get a replacement soon!” He bowed again before walking—well, more like skipping out of the room.

Hawks’s smile didn’t fade when he was alone again, wondering where to place the heavy stack in his hands.

Sometimes the truth makes for the best lie.

—————

Pleasing Hawks when he was a drooling horndog was a challenging test of endurance, but at least it was simple and straightforward. All you gotta do is let him mount you and brace yourself.

But that option was currently out of the question. Your entire body was just too damn stiff and sore, every single movement feeling like the impaired motions of an unoiled tinman. Nevertheless, you still needed to get rid of Hawks’s brand new boner.

So here you were, back at his bed and kneeling on the floor, shyly licking at the swollen rod in your hands. You weren’t the most experienced at this, paying close attention to his noises and responses that came with every action from your fingers and tongue. Hawks was watching your performance with an agitated glare, which was just a tad troubling and added extra pressure.

You licked the prominent vein on the underside of his dick, tracing it up to his bulging head before taking him into the hot cavern of your mouth. He groaned through painfully clenched teeth; he seemed to be enjoying it, yet it looked like his frustration was only growing.

Not yet deterred, you began to suck at him, head bobbing up and down while your hand jerked the extra inches that you couldn’t take in. Your other hand gently held and caressed his enlarged sack, heavy and full of cum that refused to be freed into your mouth. His cock was twitching wildly in your throat, so he has to be close, right? Ignoring the burning in your back and….everything else, honestly, you placed all of your focus on engulfing as much of him as you could, tongue swirling all around him until he inevitably gives in.

But a hand grabs your head and yanks you off of him with a wet surprised gasp.

“Stop…stop…it’s just getting worse.” He choked in a broken voice, staring down at the impossibly hard and red erection.

You wiped off the saliva that had run down your chin. “Why won’t you cum?”

His thighs trembled from all of the unreleased tension; you rubbed them to hopefully calm him just a bit. “Fuck, I…it’s like I can’t do it unless I’m…dammit!” The sudden beat of his angry wings spooked you.

You drew a deep breath. You really weren’t up for this, but leaving him in this state would be too cruel. Not to mention it was putting him in a very sour mood. Hoisting yourself onto the bed (with a few pained whimpers), you faced away from him and lowered your upper body to rest your arms, your ass raised and ready for him.

“You know, Keigo,” you started casually, as if you weren’t laid out in such a compromising position. “When I took this job, I imagined the countless situations I could possibly end up in. I was afraid I’d get caught in the middle of some villainous scheme, like a hostage situation. My silly fangirl side imagined going on dates with my favorite hero. The list of scenarios went on and on.”

The man behind you didn’t say anything, so you kept going. “And yet, ‘presenting myself to Hawks so that he can hump me senseless’ was not on that never-ending list.

He gave an awkward laugh, still sounding as if his throat was constricted. “You don’t have to, babe. I can…I dunno…”

“Just fuck me already.”

Hawks said no more and took hold of your rear. “I’ll try to take it slow. I’ll try.”

He tried and failed. Once he penetrated you, he completely lost himself again. By the time he was satisfied, every fiber of your being was dimmed and immobilized. He helped you get tucked into bed that night.

—————

Thursday

“Please, sir. I’m quite concerned for my health. This would be easier if he was away from the excitement of his work.”

After mulling it over, you had decided to be the one to reach out to the deputy, since he didn’t seem interested in calling you again anytime soon. Your original plan was to brave through the fury of Hawks’s dick until this damn rut ended, just like the deputy intended without your say in the matter.

But when you had to visit the doctor for your pains today, and you walked out with a fucking crutch under your arm, you realized this was all a bit much.

At the moment, you were trying to negotiate for letting Hawks take at least a day or two away from work. The deputy didn’t seem convinced. “Hawks once managed to keep working for an entire day with a broken wing and no visits to the hospital, and you mean to tell me that he should rest just because he has the hormonal urges of a teenager?” His snobbish ass questioned.

“This is—!” You inhaled sharply through your nose, catching yourself and lowering your voice. “This is much stronger than that, sir. Without getting into detail, I have withstood some back-breaking nights.” You consider telling him about your recent hospital visit, but the remaining shreds of your pride wouldn’t allow you to share that. Even you didn’t want to believe that Hawks has literally fucked you until you couldn’t walk.

You heard him snort in your ear. Ugh. “Doesn’t sound like anything a steady dose of painkillers can’t fix,” he dismissed.

You gave up making him understand your suffering and tried something else. “Sir, Hawks has faithfully served the Commission since he was a child. He has become one of the most accomplished heroes this generation has ever seen. His skills and dedication have done nothing but help the Commission become a more positive icon all over Japan. Don’t you think such a loyal and hard-working hero deserves at least one day off?”

“No.”

Well, shit. “…Alright, um, thank you for taking the time to hear me. I’ll get back to my duties.”

“Yes, that would be great,” he said listlessly before hanging up.

What an asshole.

—————

“What happened?”

Hawks’s words carry a dangerous tone when he sees you enter his office with the help of your walking aid. It makes you pause.

Going by the sharp yet troubled look in his eyes, you could tell that the tone wasn’t directed at you. ‘Did someone hurt you?’ That’s what he was really asking. His concern always warmed you. “Nothing, I just…” You hate reminding yourself that this even happened. “The pains were getting really bad.”

It takes a minute for those words to sink in, then his eyes widen in some sort of amazement. “Oh.” A flurry of feathers fly off of his wings and form a small floating cushion in front of you. “There, have a seat. Don’t want you hurting anymore than you already do.”

You eye the levitating seat before approaching and lowering yourself onto it. It was like a soft yet firm pillow, and you didn’t miss how the feathers seemed to all shiver, red barbs shaking rapidly as you adjusted your rump.

“Thank you,” you said while resting the crutch onto your lap. Once you were comfortable, you looked at the hero and the brand new furniture between the both of you. “I like your new desk.”

“Thanks. This one is pure steel, much more durable.” He winked.

You return it with a roll of your eyes. “Wonderful. Anyhow, I want to discuss a local hero event coming in two weeks. Your presence would do well to—” you noticed that he was snickering, lips pursed in a strained effort not to fully laugh. “Did I say something funny?”

He shook his head while short amused breaths still escaped him. “I’m sorry, I know you’re hurting and all, but…” He was cackling now, hunching over the desk as he struggled to explain. “I can’t believe I put you in crutches!”

Your face burned with both embarrassment and anger at how hilarious he found the situation. “Hawks…”

He coughed and noisily cleared his throat. “Sorry, I promise to keep it in my pants from now on.” A mischievous grin was plastered on his face. “I mean, I don’t wanna put you in a wheelchair next!”

With a wheeze and happily flailing wings, Hawks keeled over onto the desk with his face buried in his arms, the laughs muffled but still going strong. You just watch with a frown, listening to his mumbled joke about how ‘once you go hawk, you won’t be able to walk’.

What an asshole.

—————

Saturday

Hawks was definitely getting better. You could tell with each passing day, taking mental notes on how he was having an easier time holding your gaze, or how he was able to stay close to you without growing in his pants. Thank god, because your body was still recovering. Another round of wild sex will only cripple you further.

That’s why the incident currently being reviewed on television was filling you with dread. You sat in the main room of Hawks’s house, the house that you practically lived in for nearly a week, watching coverage of the recent attack at the Fukuoka City Mall. The footage of various species of birds flying into the shopping center and swarming the unsuspecting civilians was almost comical, the colorful animals squawking loudly as they snatched every shiny valuable in sight.

A man with the head of a macaw, apparently going by the villain name of Parakill, stood at the center of the chaos, chirping excitedly as his fowl goons showered him in jewels and baubles. His robbery was cut short when small red blurs whizzed into the scene, pinning the criminal onto the floor and chasing around the army of birds until they surrendered their stolen goods. You weren’t prepared for the deafening chorus of tweets and shrieks when the winged hero stepped into the camera’s line of sight.

The restrained villain was cawing and screeching angrily, most likely commanding his birds. You couldn’t see Hawks’s face clearly due to the distance and quality, but you could still make out the intimidating glare as his wings slowly spread out into their full span, each individual feather looking slightly sharpened. Any bird that made a move was quickly poked with a red quill, each and every one of them eventually staying in place while uttering quiet submissive peeps. Parakill’s look of rage slowly morphed into one of fear. Once the danger was surely dealt with, Hawks called for any lingering citizens to leave the area while he retrieved the villain.

You were still in awe as the news switched to another story. Some sort of dominance was asserted there. You weren’t sure how, but it definitely happened. The worrying part was that tapping into his primal instincts like that has probably riled him up. Christ, he’s probably rushing over right now to fuck you into the mattress again.

Only about thirty minutes had passed when you hear the twist of the doorknob and the front door opening. You stand in anxious anticipation. How disheveled and hungry is he going to look? Is he going to jump you on sight?

But the Hawks that walks in is…composed, his face free of tension and layers of sweat as he spots you and offers a friendly smile. “Sup.”

You’re too stunned to give anything more than a “Hey” as he walks past you and heads for his room.

It’s a miracle. No sexual excitement after such a tense encounter with not only a villain, but another male bird mutant? Was he truly getting that much better? There wasn’t enough certainty to approach him while he was changing, so you stayed on the couch and stared at the large screen until he chose to come out on his own.

You were still channel surfing by the time he was strutting over in his loose and comfy clothes, plopping down onto the couch with a wing outstretched and tucking itself behind your back. You gulped—not sure what he had planned for you.

“Relax. You’re acting like I’m gonna eat you,” he teased, watching you flip through the TV’s guide.

“You’re not? I can’t be too sure after what happened today.” You turned to him, watching his keen golden eyes shift and meet yours. The gaze wasn’t glassy. It wasn’t predatory. “You really feel alright?”

“Haven’t felt this good in the past two weeks. It’s nice to be a civil human again.”

You relaxed a bit and shuffled in your seat, fully aware of how his wing was wrapped around your shoulder like an affectionate arm. “About the attack at the mall…” You began. “What exactly was happening there?”

“What, you mean what I did to the birds? Parakill was trying to sic them on me.” He straightened up with a grinning face that radiated pride. “So I rearranged the pecking order. His birds don’t answer to him anymore.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You didn’t. You can do that?”

“Sure can! It’s not that hard. I mean, don’t think that I have a bunch of attack birds at my command now. Animal control took them in to be relocated, not to mention some of them were illegal exotics.”

“Ah, that’s…impressive.”

“Heh, remember this, babe,” he leaned in until his lips were grazing your ear, his lowered voice and hot breath making you shudder. “I’m always the top bird.”

You shake off his flirting and try to keep your composure. “Right, of course. I’m just really glad that you’re getting better.”

His wing pulled you in for a tight hug that made you squeak. “All thanks to my sweet hen of a handler. Couldn’t have gotten through this without you.” He heard your pained grunts and instantly released you. “Whoops, sorry.”

You rolled your stiff shoulders and sighed. “It’s fine. You’re not the only one who’s getting better. Just do me a favor and try to forget that I was ever this sore from sex.”

Hawks laughed softly as he took your hands in his. The gesture surprised you after experiencing days of rough and impatient touches. “Hey,” he was almost whispering, forcing you to lean in closer to hear him. “It’s been a wild week. My mind’s been all over the place and I’ve put you through a lot. And…” He looked away with his brows pinched in a pained expression, troubled over something you didn’t know about. Before you could ask, his face drew closer, until your foreheads were pressed together. “Mind if I do one more thing with you?”

You were completely lost. You didn’t understand the sudden tenderness, his somber mood, or why he was talking with some sort of finality to his words.

“Let me take you to bed.”

The fuck?

“Keigo,” you leaned away from him, paying no mind to how you already missed his warm closeness. “I said I was getting better, but I’m not that much better.”

He shook his head, bringing your hands closer to his chest. “No, not like that. Just…I wanna do this properly with you for once. Some nice, regular sex. Hell, doesn’t even have to be full-on sex, I just want to…feel you.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Feel me?” You repeated.

He nodded eagerly with a big-ass smile. The normally cheeky young man was acting so genuine right now.

It was hard to say no to that.

“Alright.”

Hawks said no more, pulling you up on your feet and taking you to the room you both have shared for several nights. He was quick in removing your clothes, peeling each article off smoothly before doing the same to his own. The mood felt so different from your other intimate meetups that you couldn’t help but feel modest all over again.

Calloused hands were gently pushing you down onto your back, and you watch as the handsome man above opens up his wings, his eyes closed as if entering a trance.

“Whenever we fucked, I never felt like I was really there,” he recalled out loud, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen. “I could feel you, see you, hear you, but it’s like my body was moving on its own. I was in the backseat of my own head.”

With a deep inhale and exhale, he stared down at you with a look of desire, but not the savage kind. You’re not quite sure what it was…maybe the look of a lover.

Fingers traced your face, trailing down your cheek, brushing your lips, and skimming over your well-marked neck. “Now I finally get to feel you however I want.”

Your breath caught in your throat when his lips made contact with the flesh right over your pulse, planting a few light kisses before mouthing at your neck, the random swipe of a tongue making you gasp.

His open wings twitched in response at the small sound. He was trying to savor every single one of your reactions. That’s intense.

He was in no rush, mouth moving down slowly and stopping to observe the bruise near your shoulder. “Damn, I bit you hard. That’s…when we were in the office, right?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t as painful as a fully grown man falling on top of me after ramming me through a desk.”

Hawks chuckled at the memory while rolling your breast around in his hands. “Man, that really crushed my nuts. I swear my voice was a pitch higher for the rest of the night.” He laughed into your tits, licking at the squishy mounds as he took in each of your shivers and moans.

“Maybe, but that was probably just from you crying about how you could no longer give me chicks.” Yeah, that was a weird time.

“Shh, that didn’t happen,” he denied.

“Yes, it did. I had to hold you as you sobbed.”

“Lies.”

“You were worse than I’ve ever been on my perio—ah!” A bite on your nipple silenced you.

Hawks shot you a playful glare, daring you to say more. When your mouth stayed shut, he gave a satisfied purr and sucked at the same perky bud, soothing the sting before moving on to the other.

You felt relaxed; this was all so much calmer than what you have gotten used to. While you won’t deny that his feral side was as pleasurable as it was tiring, at least you can finally take the time to breathe and soak up what he’s doing. Judging from his vibrating feathers, he probably felt the same.

He licked down your stomach while his hands ran down your sides until they reached the purple finger-shaped blemishes on your hips. He winced at the sight. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, ouch.”

He nurtured the marks with his mouth, careful not to apply too much pressure and cause any pain.

“You don’t have to be so delicate,” you hesitantly tell him. “The day you were under the quirk’s influence, you uh, you were doing the same to the bruises on my back…felt kind of good.”

His lips curved into a devilish smile. “Oh, so you like a little pain? My innocent little hen?”

“Shut up,” you said with a blush. “It’s your fault that I’ve felt everything but innocent lately.”

“True, true. I didn’t mean to open you up to the wonderful world of rough play.” His mouth closes around a bruise and sucks hard, shooting a sharp pleasurable burn that traveled straight down to your core. “Ooooh, I felt that.”

You can only whimper as he laps at the sensitive area, but part of you wants him to bring that scary jolt of pain again.

“I wanna know,” he says between licks. “Just how much did you enjoy me letting loose on you? How many times did we do it the first day?”

A few more kisses are laid on your hips before he continues his descent. Your breath quickens in nervous excitement when he nestles his head between your legs, face dangerously close to your hot sex.

“Come on, hen. At least give me a guess.” He turns to your thighs and showers them with timid pecks.

The sheets beneath you crinkle under your death grip. “Don’t know…lost count after the seventh time,” you admit through gritted teeth.

“Aww, what a shame,” his mouth wanders further inside your thigh. “Do you know how many times you came?”

“I don’t know. A lot.”

He bit into you and enjoyed the resulting yelp. “Mmmm, definitely a lot. Enough to knock you out. So sad that neither of us remember just how thoroughly I wrecked you.”

His naughty lips are just an inch away from your nether ones, your breath quickening in anticipation. Hawks looks up at you, most likely enjoying the view of your heaving chest. But he does well in reminding you how much of a bastard he is by switching to your other thigh, subjecting you to another round of kisses.

“Keigooo,” you whine pathetically, feeling your aches as your muscles tense from the teasing.

“Hold on, I’ve got more questions. What was your favorite position?”

“What?”

“Come on, you’ve got plenty to choose from,” he licks the sweat that was beginning to coat your skin.

Both your embarrassment and his tongue were making it very difficult to answer. You stammer over your words while his mouth moves inward, but once again, he stops at your mound.

“You really can’t think of one?” He gives you a ridiculously sad face—large puppy eyes and a puckered bottom lip—it would have looked more innocent if he wasn’t so close to your most private area.

You realize that he wasn’t going to take any further action until you gave him an answer. “I…when I’m on my hands and knees…” You swallow despite the dryness of your throat. “…and you’re on top of me…”

“Ah,” he sighs, and you feel his thumbs part your outer lips like a damp pair of curtains. He stares down at the pussy that he has battered more times than either of you can count, and yet it drips for him even now. The feel of a single finger running down your wetness makes your entire body jerk. “You like it when I mount you like a dog?”

“Yes,” you choke.

He blows on your quivering cunt. “What do you like about it so much?”

“I…you…I don’t…”

“Do you just love feeling like an animal too? Love it when a crazed horny guy humps you into the floor?” He finally indulges you with a long lick from your hole to your clit, and the hot muscle already has you moaning. “Is that it?”

“Ah…maybe…” You answer, and he rewards you with another lick. Listening to his questions was becoming a challenge.

“Hmm, would you love it if I fucked you until my bed gives out? You’re a pretty expensive girl to mess around with,” he jokes. He then dives in, sloppily making out with your folds that have been begging for more gentle attention for days.

Your head thrashes against the pillow. His licks and sucks were both pleasurable and soothing against your beaten pussy. You were finally freed from his powerful stare when he closed his eyes and fully concentrated on eating you out. He alternated between sucking loudly on your velvety folds and lapping at your opening, sometimes dipping his tongue inside so that he can feel your walls attempt to grab him.

The building pressure in your belly has become an old friend at this point, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t excited whenever it arrived and begged it to explode and bring you back to that lovely state of euphoria. Hawks’s mouth was moving more fervently as he drank in more of your juices, as if your nectar was intoxicating him. His deep moans rattled your insides while he smacked his wet lips against every inch of your womanhood, giving your swollen clit a smooch before sucking hard.

“Mm…oh god…Keigo, please…”

He growled with your bud still in his mouth, blinding you with the electrifying pleasure that was only enhanced by the sudden intrusion of two fingers in your throbbing cavern. The slow inner massage guided you to the top where stars burst in your vision, each orgasmic throb bringing forth a shameless moan. The stimulated wings fluttered from the overwhelming pleasure surrounding them, Hawks giving light licks and kisses until you were back down to earth.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said breathlessly, as if he was the one that just got sent to heaven. “You felt amazing, so nice and clear.” His wings finally folded behind his back as he straightened himself and wiped his glistening face.

You were ready to drift away into a happy slumber until you saw Hawks move to get off the bed and spotted the very familiar hardness that was bobbing with his movements. “Wait! You’re…” Your eyes dart from his face to his erection.

“Don’t worry about that; fapping works again!” he told you cheerfully before changing to a devious smirk. “What, did you wanna watch or something?”

“No,” you snapped a bit more loudly than intended. “I…want you inside of me.”

He froze.

“You sure?”

“Very.”

He crawled back between your legs—clearly trying not to look too eager—and was already aiming his cock at your opening. Your nod of approval was all he needed to push inside and damn, that was one hell of a face and moan he made.

You reflexively braced yourself for an immediate pounding, but the throbbing length just stayed there, twitching in response to every pulse from your surrounding walls. Hawks appeared absolutely fascinated by the sight of him sheathed inside of you before looking up to your face, eyes filled with a warm lust, not the unfocused kind that you have gotten used to.

He pulled out slowly and pushed back in at the same speed. “Ooooh, fuck, baby. So hot…so tight…” He murmured with a broken groan. The lazy thrusts allowed you to feel every inch of him stretch you, his veins rubbing against you for added texture and stimulation. Your hypersensitive pussy appreciated the easy pace, and even better, it was also working for the hero above you.

His hips gradually sped up overtime, but never into something rough and aggressive. It was more like a grind, his abs rippling with every deep push. His flushed face has gotten dangerously close to yours, allowing you to watch the pulsating pupils of his avian eyes.

The only time he ‘kissed’ you was on the first day, though a more appropriate description would be that he simply smashed his mouth against yours. Now, as you stared at his parted lips while hot breaths blew onto your face, you had a strong desire to finally give him a proper one.

Good thing Hawks was a damn mind reader, because he brought his lips down to yours right after you finished the thought. They were soft, softer than you expected from a guy that flew at high speeds all day. Then again, he was also a sex symbol that needed to take care of himself.

His mouth was clearly more skilled than yours, so you let him take the lead, lips molding perfectly against yours with playful licks. The added intimacy sped up his hips and raised his volume, his entire mouth engulfing yours as he moaned into you. Your tongue found his and engaged in a frantic dance. He’s tensing up; you give him some encouragement by wrapping your arms and legs around his sweaty form, giving the base of his wings a few rubs. Your mouths part to catch your breaths, a strand of saliva linking your tongues together

“Cum inside me, Keigo.”

“Oh fuck.” Your words have him pumping erratically into you, but you’ve dealt with worse. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, whimpering at your legs that keep him locked in place and urging him to release his creamy essence as deep inside you as possible.

His trembles are powerful, but even better were the cracked whines vibrating against your neck as he emptied himself into your womb. You never get tired of watching his wings lifelessly drop whenever he wears himself out. You cradle his spent body—it’s all so similar to the first time he took you, except this time he moves just a little to the side to relieve you of some of his weight. He doesn’t move you for another round, he just relaxes into your cuddles.

“Thanks,” he says softly, already close to dozing off.

You’re not sure what exactly he’s thanking you for, but it makes you smile anyway. “You’re welcome.”

A wing stretches over you as a blanket, the warm soft feathers doing well to pull you into dreamland as well. Hawks’s heavy breaths tell you that he was already out.

You close your eyes. It looks like you both managed to survive the worst rut of Hawks’s life. This sure as hell wasn’t what you signed up for, but looking back, it wasn’t that bad. Except for the crutch. The crutch never happened.

As sleep claimed you, you wondered what the future had in store for you and the winged hero.

—————

Monday

“I just got fired.”

Hawks flinched at the news, scratching at his back awkwardly. “Aww man, that’s…oof, what a shocker.”

For some reason, his surprise didn’t sound very real. But you were way too upset at the moment to question it further. “Well, I guess it’s more like a demotion. They’re still allowing me into a position I have more experience in. It’s probably back to desk work for me,” You sighed, pacing back and forth across the office in a desperate attempt to expel some of your anger. “But I can’t believe this. I can’t believe that he basically kept me around to be your fucking fleshlight, and then threw me away after you were satisfied!”

Hawks shrugged with an apologetic look. “It really sucks, babe. You can’t forget: the real studs are the Commission. No one fucks more people than them. A lot of us are a one-time use to those guys. I’m just lucky enough to have a longer expiration date than most. Or unlucky. I dunno.”

You didn’t either, honestly. Hawks deserved better. “They’re such assholes, yet here I am ready to keep working for them. I so badly want to say ‘fuck you’ and leave, but…” You trailed off.

Hawks finished your sentence with a smirk. “They pay too well?”

Your head lowers in shame. “Yeah.”

A wing pats you on the back as he laughs. “I’m not judging, angel. That’s probably what keeps most of the guys around.” He steps closer to you, gently taking your chin to tilt your head back up. “I’m gonna miss you though. Whoever they send to watch my ass next isn’t going to be half as fun as you.”

The comment warms you. You take his hand and pull it further up to your face, letting him cup your cheek. “Thanks, but I was pretty bad at the job. They would have kicked me down sooner or later.”

He came in closer. “True, you sucked. But you’re the first handler I got to know so well. Inside and outside.” His chuckle is hot against you before he locks his lips to yours. The kiss becomes more heated than expected—he’s tugging at your lip and thrusting his tongue in and out of your mouth in a way that makes your thighs press together. You tear yourself away from his face, breathless.

“Hawks…?”

His tongue slowly runs over his upper lip. Goddamn. “Sorry, little hen. I was just hoping you’d like a nice goodbye gift. I can give you more, if you want.”

You’re so pissed off at yourself for throbbing in response to his offer.

He pulls you back in and takes hold of the waistband of your pants. “How about it? Wanna get to know my new desk a little better?”

The sounds resonating from the office that morning scarred Springer.

#bnha #smut #hawks #keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 8 (It's a long one, y'all)

A choice, a conversation, and a question

Read on AO3

Azriel’s body was perfect.

Anyone who disagreed was surely blind.

Gwyn had been watching him for the better part of half an hour, choosing to sit in silence when he hadn’t acknowledged her presence. There was no possible way he didn’t know she was there – he would have scented her at the very least. Azriel was one of the most accomplished warriors in the history of Prythian, after all, and no-one could ever enter his sphere without notice. She had only managed a handful of times, and she had a sneaking suspicion that his shadows had been responsible.

Those shadows were coiled tightly to their master tonight, looking like they might snap from even the slightest brush of a finger. They mirrored the tension that rippled over the shadowsinger’s bare back. Gwyn smirked to herself as she silently cursed the Illyrian for focusing his frustration solely on the post in front of him, facing away from her and cruelly limiting her ogling. He’d opted for punches and kicks, no doubt requiring impact and pain to relieve whatever it was that had weighed on him today. She would have quite enjoyed the sight of that gloriously elaborate eight-pointed star, appreciating how the sweat would bead and trickle down his spine or between the muscled ridges of his stomach.

Mother above, he was beautiful.

Both of the Illyrians in her life were impossibly tall and built of solid muscle. They were the definition of power. But Cassian and Azriel were so utterly different. The general was brute force, hulking muscle, arrogant. The spymaster, though… He was leaner, strength hidden underneath an unfair amount of grace for a male of his stature. Gwyn had seen him shirtless many times, but rarely did she have the chance to appreciate the vision that he truly was. She wanted to memorize the tangled strokes of the tattoos that waterfalled down his neck and over his shoulders. She marveled at the ease with which he moved, even with his long legs and arms. His wings were magnificent, even as silver ribbons of scars streamed over the thin skin. She’d heard Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie talk about wingspan and how it related to other parts. That wasn’t particularly important to her, but it had still made her blush.

And his hands.

She knew Azriel was determined to hide and hate them, just as much as she was to love them and prove to him how special they were. She nearly crumpled in tears every time she recalled the cruelty that had marked them, fire and torment melting the flesh as quickly as it could be woven back together. The story of his childhood had shattered her heart, and she was even more awed that he had somehow grown into someone so considerate, noble, and kind. Gwyn longed to hold those hands, to trace her thumbs over the mottled flesh and make him feel her adoration for them. But she wanted them to adore her, as well. To feel those graceful calloused fingers gliding over her skin…

She felt warmth coil deep in her belly as it crept into her cheeks. Gwyn blinked away the haze in her eyes and chided herself. There was no reason to think things like that – she shouldn’t get ahead of herself.

The priestess scowled as she saw blotches of red blossoming over the strips of cloth wrapped around his hands. Enough was enough. She pushed herself up off the stone and strode over to where the Illyrian continued to batter the post, shadows still taut around his rippling shoulders and incredible wings.

“What’s wrong?” she called, making sure he could hear her over the echoing thunder of his fists against the padded wood. Azriel paused but didn’t turn to face her.

“Nothing.” He squared his shoulders again, but she would not have it.

“You’re a liar, Shadowsinger.” He straightened but didn’t respond. So Gwyn continued. “You were tense during training this morning and you skipped dinner. And I can only assume you were here instead because, violent and powerful as you are, it would take you longer than the last half hour or so to beat your hands to a bloody pulp.” She crossed her arms, the billowing blue of her robes tucking under her wrists. Gwyn bore into his back with her eyes, willing him to turn around and face her. She’d be damned if she let him shut her out, not after things had been going so well. She could feel her heart beating in time with his measured breaths, those toned shoulders shimmering as they rose and fell in the moonlight. She was so entranced by his breathing that she jumped when he flared his wings.

He finally turned around. His shadows had loosened, if only slightly. But it was a start. Gwyn shot him a grin, daring him to tell her that she was wrong – to deny that something was eating at him.

“It appears I’m caught, then.” Azriel’s voice was quiet and measured. Most wouldn’t understand how it differed from his usual tone, but it set the priestess on edge. She looked into the dark gaze of the spymaster, and somehow the angles of his face had sharpened. “Interesting training attire.” Gwyn ignored the lightning that seared through her as his eyes swept over her body, even though she knew there wasn’t much to see thanks to those robes.

“I didn’t come here to train.” She rolled her eyes. The shadowsinger’s cold stare flickered for a moment, a crack in that practiced stoic expression.

“Then why –“

“I came out here to make sure you were alright, Azriel.” Cauldron, he could be so dense. She cocked her head, watching his face relax as her words sank into him. And she might have heaved a relieved sigh as his shadows started twirling like candle smoke and hazel gleamed back at her in his widened eyes. Satisfied that she had been able to reach through his veil of detachment she strode toward him. Gwyn did not move her eyes from his, even as she stopped in front of him and pulled at one of his battered hands. She cradled it in both of hers, allowing her fingertips to caress the whorls of skin and blood-soaked rags. “Why don’t we go inside. I’ll take care of these and you can tell me what’s bothering you.” She kept her hold on him gentle, though she couldn’t help but tighten her fingers around his for fear that he might pull away. The priestess studied his tanned face, trying desperately to read any hint of where his silence was leading them. The spymaster mask had slipped, but aside from the pooling light in his hazel gaze and the easy wafting of the shadows there was no breath of what he was thinking.

Gwyn lowered her gaze, frustrated that he was still so reserved. But she would not give up – that was not her way. So she sighed as contentedly as she could muster and focused on his hand. She drew her fingers softly over his knuckles, surely cracked and stinging under the crimson stains she traced. Her fingers followed the paler lines of scars to the end of one finger, then the next, until she had attended to every piece of exposed skin she could find. Then she folded his fingers into his palm and raised his hand to her chest. She dared a glance up at him and found it difficult not to cower away from the intensity in his visage – burning liquid pools of hazel seemed to pierce straight into her soul. But she gathered her courage – from where she did not know – and stared back, lowering her chin and brushing her lips over his knuckles. Gwyn felt his intake of breath, even though his lips barely parted and his face betrayed nothing. The air around them grew thin and taut and she waited, once again, for him to pull away.

When his hand squeezed one of hers, she knew her cheeks had flushed a deep crimson. Mother, she was sure her face looked giddy with child-like hope, but she smiled up at that perfect face when she squeezed back. She earned a soft crooked grin in return.

“Lead the way, priestess.”

~~~

Azriel kept his wings tucked close as he was silently led through the house. It had not gone unnoticed by him that Gwyn had not released his mangled hand, choosing to keep those long fingers of moonlight tangled loosely with his own. He couldn’t quell the warmth that spread through him, and he couldn’t stop shadowy tendrils from circling down his arm and looping around the contact. If the priestess noticed she didn’t show it as she pushed open the door to the library.

“The library?” He raised his eyebrows, but his question was soft. He had assumed she would guide him to his room, but realized as soon as he’d voiced his surprise that it was a ridiculous assumption to make. Being alone together in his room would feel extremely intimate, and she was likely not ready for that.

“Is that alright?” Gwyn asked him as she turned to him with that lovely hand still grasping his own. “We could have gone to your room, but I know your privacy and space are important to you. I didn’t want to intrude on that.” Her head cocked as she blinked toward the ceiling, freckled nose scrunching in thought. Azriel felt the corner of his mouth quirk, unable to suppress his fondness for how expressive her features were. The warmth inside him took root as her words registered. She’d been thinking of him. Of his comfort and not her own. Irreverent and spontaneous as she was, her consideration for those she cared for was thorough and thoughtful. As surprising as she always was with her candor, Azriel was floored by the depth of her compassion.

“Actually, I’m not even sure I know where your room is so,” she shrugged and tugged him over to the settee, “the library will have to do. Now sit.” The spymaster dropped onto the cushions as if his body were unable to resist her command for even a moment, though she let go of him when he did so. The absence of her gentle touch left him aching and he looked up at her gleaming teal eyes. “I need some things to tend to your hands. Promise you won’t leave?” His heart pinched at the earnest plea as he tried to understand the emotions churning in that ocean-deep gaze.

“You have my word, Gwyn.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so rough, thick with other promises he wanted the priestess to ask of him. But he was inwardly smug as he watched the blush stain her freckle-painted cheeks.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered and scurried out into the hallway.

Azriel allowed himself a chuckle at her reaction, running a hand through his dark locks. Then his mirth settled, a weight in his gut replacing the contentment he had felt only seconds before. He didn’t want to talk to anyone about his distaste for Illyria, least of all Gwyn. He didn’t want to see her eyes darken from his own sorrow, and he couldn’t bear for her to realize that just by being Illyrian he was a potential danger to her – a monster.

But, Mother above, this was Gwyn. He’d promised that he wouldn’t pull away, that he wouldn’t decide how she would react instead of giving her a chance. And somehow that beautiful warrior would not see the same things he did. Something inside him just felt it. So he would be brave and he would lay himself bare to her. Again. And he knew, terrifying as it was, that he would do it over and over – she need only pin him with that hopeful, caring gaze.

A clinkinterrupted his reverie, and he saw a porcelain bowl sitting on the coffee table, the water still rippling from its sudden appearance – no doubt a request to the house from Gwyn. As if on cue Azriel shifted his attention to the door and found the lovely copper-haired priestess pulling it closed behind her, a basket in her hands. He allowed himself a grin and let his gaze follow her as she crossed the room and placed the basket next to the bowl of water. Then she hiked up the waterfalls of blue robes and sat – somewhat unceremoniously – facing him on the couch. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, surveying her supplies and formulating her strategy, and the shadowsinger could feel the heat coil low in his stomach at the sight. It was a small mercy that she gestured for his hand and released that lip from her teeth.

With less trepidation than he expected, Azriel placed his scarred hand in Gwyn’s alabaster grip, but kept his focus planted on where they touched. Her long fingers were nimble as they worked against knots to unwrap the crimson-stained rags. As he might have expected, the wounds had already closed, his Illyrian blood providing swift healing. When the priestess scowled playfully, nose scrunched, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“I suspect I might not have required your medical expertise, Berdara.” But the priestess just shrugged a shoulder, unaffected by the turn of events.

“It was only an excuse to get you to stop and talk to me,” Gwyn admitted before looking up at him, beaming that her ruse had succeeded. “So I’ll wash off the blood and make sure everything is fine. And you’ll start talking.”

Azriel just stared at her for a moment, shadows flaring in his periphery at her unabashed statement. Her hair shone like flames in the fae light as it fell over her shoulders, her focus firmly on his hand. She had dipped a cloth in the water bowl and started dragging it gently across his knuckles, cleaning the red stains from his mottled skin.

“I’m waiting, Shadowsinger,” she cooed.

“I have to go to Illyria. Tomorrow. With Cassian and Rhys,” Azriel sighed, and had his hand been free he might have flopped dramatically into the back of the settee. When the priestess remained silent he whispered venomously. “I hate it there.” Gwyn still didn’t look back up at him, and he wondered if she did that purposefully, as well, so as not to make him feel more pressure than the anxiety that already gnawed into his chest.

“You don’t lead the armies. Why do you have to go?”

Cauldron, if she only knew how many times he’d asked the same damned question.

“For… status checks such as these my primary purpose is intimidation.” He let his eyes wander over the rainbows of book spines filling the shelves on the end wall, once-vibrant hues dulled by time and dust. “We present a united front, the leadership of the Night Court and their forces.” Azriel felt the warm cloth on his hand pause and he turned his attention back to the Valkyrie who now looked up at him, head tilted in curiosity.

“So you, Cassian, and the High Lord?”

Azriel nodded. “I believe the High Lady will be joining us, as well. Sometimes Mor accompanies us, as a representative of the Hewn City. We’ve tried a few different strategies regarding who makes these visits.” He couldn’t hide the contempt in his words. “But we’ve found a strong female presence is… rarely helpful. Even though it is proof of the point that Rhys and Cassian are trying to make.”

“Rhys and Cassian, but not you?” The shadowsinger inwardly cringed at the implication that he may not share his brothers’ beliefs about the value and potential of Illyrian females, but the priestess before him held no judgment in the depth of those teal pools. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair.

“My brothers have been quite insistent that Illyrian females have the opportunity to train, should they choose, as well as putting a stop to some of their more barbaric traditions and practices.” He stifled a gasp as Gwyn’s fingers traced over his now-clean knuckles, examining them for any remaining injury. Apparently satisfied, she set that hand in his lap before lifting her gaze.

“But you don’t include yourself in that effort?” Her eyes narrowed, but her lips lifted in a wry grin. “I know firsthand that you also believe that females should be trained and can be capable in battle –“

“More than capable, priestess, as you have proven.”

Gwyn’s smile widened. “So why is it that you separate yourself from them?”

“Of course I share their beliefs, and I would love nothing more for wing clipping to be a figment of a dead past and for camp leaders to stop insisting that weapons must be buried once females touch them. I just don’t have faith that the Illyrians will ever change.” He loved his brothers. They were the best males he’d ever known, their hearts and minds full of so much hope. But Illyria would always be a cesspool of brutality and carnage.

“You believe so little in their potential?” Gwyn’s face had softened, no lines crinkling her nose or the corners of her eyes, swirling orbs of concern. His shadows held tight to him, unmoving with his bitterness. Not a single tendril reached for the warrior who gingerly grasped his other hand and pulled it into her lap. “You and Cassian and the High Lord are all Illyrian, and the three of you have grown into quite exemplary males.” After that soft statement she turned her attention to the bloody wraps, sighing contentedly. He watched the top of her copper-tressed head.

“Cassian and Rhysand are the best of us. I’m not –“

“Azriel.”

His throat bobbed at the quiet reprimand in her voice. Gwyn’s grip on his hand had tightened considerably and the rest of her body had tensed. Silence thickened the air and it fell over him like a blanket, urging the shadows closer to him, to safety. When she looked up at him again his mouth nearly fell open at the intensity of her expression.

“Why do you do that?” He was taken aback by the roughness in her voice, usually a sweet, soothing song. “You are one of them. You are. Their hearts and souls are no more pure and precious than yours. And even if we spoke only of you, what about being Illyrian would damn you so?”

The shadowsinger gaped, and Gwyn’s bright eyes challenged him to prove her wrong. Just like he knew she would. But, no matter how many times she proved to him the depth of her empathy and understanding, he still felt the pang of shock simmer through him. His fingers tingled in her grasp.

“Tell me, Azriel,” she whispered her near-silent plea.

“Gwyn, you know how the Illyrians are. You’ve seen it with your own eyes and experienced it.” Azriel took a breath and shifted his gaze to their hands, still entwined in her lap. “Illyrians are bred to be brutal in all areas of their lives, violent and entitled and possessive and selfish. They take what they want without thought or regret. They… indulge themselves freely, taking females for their own pleasure with or without consent. And that is the heritage I share. I was created there, just like the other brutes, to be a monster. Powerful, yes, and lucky as fuck to have found myself under the care of Rhysand’s mother. But a monster, nonetheless.”

The spymaster kept his lidded attention on his bloodied hand and Gwyn’s delicate pale fingers tightened impossibly further around it. He focused on the contrasts – his darkened, ruined skin under the freckle-spattered moonstone of hers; her two hands unable to wrap completely around his much larger one.

“You’re not a monster. You’re not a brute. And no matter what happens, I will always be here to remind you of that.” Azriel closed his eyes, shuddering at her conviction. He felt her hands moving again but kept his eyes closed, unsure of how to continue. He felt the wet cloth against his skin and knew his priestess had resumed her ministrations, washing away the stains of his frustration and contempt.

Minutes passed in silence as he focused on the dampness against his skin and the soft, comforting breaths of the incredible female in front of him. Then the cloth was gone, his fingers guided to fold around her hand, and then he felt two fingers lifting his chin. Azriel took a breath to gather his courage and lifted his gaze, finding full lips in a soft smile, constellations of freckles dusting pink cheeks, and the most incredible, impossibly expressive teal eyes shining with emotion. The fingers left his chin but he barely noticed, lost in that ocean.

“When you go to Illyria, I want you to remember what I’m about to say.” He gave a nod when she paused, waiting for him. “Nobody is just one thing, Azriel. Being Illyrian does not doom you to a life of committing atrocities and causing pain. There is hope there. Remember Balthazar? He aided Nesta and Emerie during the Blood Rite. I know there aren’t many, but they are there. Think of Cassian and Rhysand, who you say are the best of males. They have far outshone the picture of damnation that you’ve painted.” Gwyn squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. His eyes must have been playing tricks on him, as he swore he saw a fine line of silver on her lower lashes.

“But what I really want you to think about is you. You’ve shared your history with me, Azriel. You have experienced pain and loneliness and darkness greater than most can even imagine, and your power is some of the greatest that Prythian has ever known. You had every reason and every opportunity to become a monster. If anyone could have become the most fearsome, brutal male it could have easily been you. But you didn’t.” Azriel felt pinpricks in his eyes, and the way the priestess smiled at him… that light seemed to breach his very soul. “You are here, a dedicated servant to your court. You do the things you must, to protect your family and your home. You are thoughtful and kind and more generous than you probably realize. You are not a monster, but you areIllyrian. And you are sitting here with me, holding my hand. Being Illyrian has not defined who you are. And there are likely others out there who are the same. Try to remember that.”

Azriel let out a disbelieving huff, but he felt his lips curl into the slightest grin. This warrior priestess was going to be the death of him – a certain death of broken-down walls and encouragement and fierce rebuttal of the self-loathing that had been with him far longer than he could truly remember. It was uncomfortable, and he almost didn’t know who he would be without it. But the way Gwyn looked at him, the way she saw him. Maybe he could find himself there.

“Well,” she patted his hand and gave it back to him. “Your wounds are healed, the blood is gone, and hopefully now you can get some rest.” She hopped up and began cleaning up her rags and water, only to give a soft ‘squeak’ as the house vanished them away. He snickered, earning a withering glare, which only made him laugh harder.

“I’m going to bed,” she huffed, sticking out her tongue at him before stalking to the door. Azriel rose quickly to stop her.

“Gwyn,” he called, halting her at the door. She turned to look at him, an expectant eyebrow raised. He reached for the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “Thank you. For listening. And… and for your encouraging words.” Watching her expression change was like magic, like watching the sun transform the sky as it breached the horizon. The irreverence and playfulness fell away, replaced with that delicate gentle smile and burning compassion in her ocean depths.

“Thank you, Azriel. For trusting me. I am so grateful that you didn’t pull away from me.” She paused before turning back to the door. “Be safe, Shadowsinger.” And then she was gone.

Azriel just stared at the empty doorway, confounded and delighted and… awestruck. And there was nobody to hear his quiet vow when he finally spoke.

“Anything for you, Berdara.”

~~~

He was all but running down the ramp to one of the lower levels of the library. His long legs loped, carrying him closer to his goal – the sweet voice echoing a lilting melody through the stacks. Azriel kept his wings tucked close, knowing that if he unfurled them even a little he may be tempted to fly.

He was sure Clotho and the other priestesses would not appreciate such brazenness.

He didn’t think he would ever describe a visit to Illyria as pleasant, but even he couldn’t deny the optimism that had somehow permeated his soul. It had helped him open his eyes beyond his own bitterness. She had helped him. Of course he had been every bit the feared spymaster that he was required to be, but he had surprised Rhys and Cassian when he had joined them for every meeting and observation, choosing to utilize those few moments of downtime to execute his more covert tasks. They were to debrief immediately with the rest of the Inner Circle – given only enough time to wash before they were required at the River House. But as soon as he had smelled the air of Velaris all he could think about was the lovely Valkyrie priestess who seemed to be a balm to his scars.

He was breathing hard when he spotted her, shadows flitting at the enchanting picture before him.

“Gwyn.”

Her singing stopped as her head whipped to face him, face splitting into the brightest smile. “Shadowsinger! Welcome home!” If their relationship were different – if it were further along – he might have run to her, gathered her up and swung her around in his arms. Gods knew he wanted to. But he had to keep himself in check, at least for now. So he settled for a grin and walked briskly toward her. Her eyes darkened in question. “Do you need something? When did you get back?”

“A few minutes ago. I don’t have much time – we’re supposed to go debrief at the River House with Amren and Mor. But I do need something.” Gwyn’s smile had softened but she giggled.

“Alright, well I’ll do whatever I can –“

Her voice halted when she noticed that Azriel had extended his hands to her in silent question. He could never just grab her, but he prayed to the Cauldron, the Mother, to all the gods above that she would take his scarred hands in hers. Confusion fluttered over her features, but he grinned, hoping she was encouraged. He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when she cautiously lifted those robed arms, placing her palms in his open ones.

“Az?”

“I do need something. I need to ask you… if you would join me for dinner tomorrow?” For once he could be smug, seeing the surprise light in her eyes and knowing this wasn’t what she expected. He was emboldened. By her. So he brushed his thumbs over her knuckles as he continued. “I know it’s only been a few weeks. And I’m sure I haven’t done nearly enough to prove myself, but I just –“

“Yes.”

His eyes had to be wide as saucers, and his breath seemed to have escaped his chest. But he didn’t need it. Not when Gwyneth Berdara, hands still safe in his own, smiled at him that way – corners of her eyes crinkling above flushing cheeks.

“You came straight here – knowing you were needed immediately by the High Lord – just to ask me to dinner?” Gwyn snickered but it caught in her throat, betraying emotions that stormed in her beautiful eyes. He released one of her hands, only to grasp the other with his scarred fingers.

“Yes,” he breathed, lifting that pale hand and brushing his lips lightly over the soft skin of her fingers. A shadow twirled down his arm and danced where they touched, but Azriel’s focus was pinned to her face. He was relieved to see no sign of discomfort, but a furious blush had painted her cheeks and the points of her ears. And he chuckled. She could not be more lovely. “I want to see what comes next, Berdara.” She shook her head.

“We need to work on your priorities, Shadowsinger.” She scrunched her nose and then gave him an easy shove with their tangled hands. “Go, you’re going to be late.” He kept ahold of her, jerking her forward lightly. Smirking, he kissed her knuckles again before letting her go.

“I’ll see you in the morning, priestess. I hope you haven’t been slacking in my absence.” Azriel winked at her – Mother above the things she made him do – and turned on his heel, moving much more slowly to leave than he had to find her.

“You’re going to wish we had!” she threatened. And he laughed, throwing his head back, reveling in the joy he felt. Whatever was next, he was ready to face it. And he wanted to face it with Gwyneth Berdara.

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#gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel fanfic #fanfiction #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #azwyn #ao3 #ao3fic

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Note

CONGRATULATIONS DYMPH DYMPH!!! I love you so fucking much and You absolutely know how much I love your writing. You deserve all the praise, recognition, and followers! Thank you for being a kind beautiful friend of mine!

This probably won’t come as a surprise uwu but the love of my life Kags 👉🏾👈🏾 with 18, 29, 62. Any of those or all of them idk it’s up to you babe! 💖💖💖

pairing: t. kageyama x fem!reader

genre: drabble, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~1k

tags: hard dom!kageyama, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, degradation, crying, squirting, overstim, size

a/n: marquie! i love you so so much, words can’t even express my love and admiration for you. i hope this nasty kags is to your liking.💖 this word dump is brought to you all by the tobio brainrot i have been living in with @kyovtani for the last 48 hours. i’m also on a shit ton of cold medicine so it’ll be interesting to re-read this in the morning sksksksksksksksk. anyway, i hope you enjoy!

event prompts: 18.) “Are you wearing my shirt?” 29.) “Take it off. Slowly.” 62.) I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”

✨St. Dymph’s Holy Milestone✨

It all starts with white and navy fabric hanging off of your shoulders, Tobio’s jersey drowns your form. It was an innocent venture, at least to an outside perspective, surprising your boyfriend at practice with a homemade lunch.

Usually, your impromptu visits to the Adler’s gym bloomed a giddy warmth in his chest. His sweet girl in the stands always made practicing a little more fun-- red flushing his cheeks every time you gave him a small cheer or called his name.

“Princess, are you wearing my shirt?” He turns to see you at the door, eying you from hairline to shoes, taking in the baggy jersey and pleated skirt that barely reaches your mid thigh. Every inch of skin on display shoots right to the aching in Tobio’s shorts. He’s lost in the supple flesh, teeth aching to tear into your bare thighs, fingers itching to pull at his jersey and explore what’s underneath.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, mouth dry as you walk towards him, each swing of your hips is disastrous. When you lift up on your toes, Tobio’s hand finds place on your lower back. He takes a moment to revel in your warm cheek against his neck, smiling at the sweet gesture. Before you pull away, he feels your fingers against his pocket. Your intent now clear, the reason for your visit is less than virtuous.

“I brought you a little good luck present, baby. Have a good practice.” Your whisper has Tobio gripping onto your hips tightly, when you pull away to walk towards the bleachers he reaches into his pocket to find a slick, lacy present.

You feel Tobio’s eyes on you as you take your seat, the blue color digging into your soul. His look says everything he can’t scream across the gym in front of all of his teammates. You are so, incredibly, fucked.

The loud, unceremonious crash of headboard to wall fills the room. With every feverous thrust into you, a trail of squeaks and thuds follow. Each pump into your tight cunt is enough to bring a fresh set of tears to the eyes. How long has it been since Tobio slammed the front door and pulled you to bed by the hair? How long ago was it when you fiddled nervously under his dominant stare, fingers tightly wound at the bottom of his jersey?

“I’m not going to repeat myself princess,” his form encloses in on you, keeping your knees pinned to where they press into the comforter with just a look, “Take it off. Slowly.”

Time is illusive at best now with your body being used like a toy by the man above you.

All you can do is tighten the grip you have on Tobio’s shoulders, looking for purchase on the sweat-sheened muscles. You clench down on him hard, a sign he knows well. Before you can even begin to beg for release, he pulls out of you completely, thick cock springing back against his abdomen with a wet pop. You feel empty without the stretch, you ache for the pain.

No matter how many times Tobio fucks you, his cock splits you open with new depths every time.

At your small cries, Tobio snickers. He leans back on the bed, legs tucked beneath him, and looks at you through a messy set of bangs. Your tugging against the fringe makes his hair stick up like bed head. The sight of you flushed, tear-stained cheeks and wobbly lip has sadism swimming through his veins. It’s not every day you can chip away at his demeanor to unveil the monster you want eating you alive, but a wayward pair of panties seem to do the trick.

Tobio only takes a moment to ogle the curve of your breasts heaving with every shaky intake of breath before lining himself up again, sparing you no time to acclimate before he’s hitting your cervix. You yelp as his hands grab onto the back of your thighs, pushing your legs up to your chest. With your folded in half, he can fuck you even deeper.

Every cry that leaves your lips is like gasoline, igniting in him and spreading into every vein.

“I bet all our neighbors can hear you,” he sneers, leaning over you with a smile that makes your stomach flip, “I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”

You whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks in fat trails, the only words left in your vocabulary are “Oh god, Tobio,” and a sting of garbled, “Please, please, please!”

“Cut the whining, princess,” You feel him pull out again, slapping your puffy clit with his shaft before a strong set of fingers grip onto your spent body to flip you over, “You’ll fucking take what I have to give you.”

You nod into the mattress, sheets wet with spit and tears. Your head swims further into a submissive haze at every thrust. With this new angle, holding back your orgasm is impossible, especially with the addition of Tobio’s hand pushing your back to arch farther.

“Tobio, please! N-need to cum, ‘m gonna make a mess.” Your cheek is pressed firmly into the mattress, mouth hanging open slightly. You feel a sharp smack against your ass cheek.

“Cum for me baby, cum on this fat cock. Show me how good I make you feel.” His words send you tumbling with a final wail of his name. Every vein in your body lights like a match, and you can feel your release gushing around Tobio. The wet feeling seems to only make the setter more hell-bent on your destruction. Instead of slowing down his pace, Tobio doubles down.

You’re in for a long night, that much is obvious. He’ll bask in every drop of sweat and slick that you give him. He’ll ruin you, exactly how you like it.

#kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #st. dymph’s holy milestone.✨

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cafeacademia · 3 years

Text

Snowdrops

George Weasley x Reader (SMUT)

Summary: Being snowed in isn’t all bad when it’s your best friend that you’re stuck indoors with, that is until you unintentionally let your feelings slip, which leads to something more than you expected with George.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, kissing, gentle sex, sweet and charming George (yes that’s a warning)

Word count: Approx 2600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi my loves! I honestly kind of struggled with this one, I really loved writing this, but bridging the gap between the fluff to the smut was very difficult to navigate for some reason. Anyway, I listened to a romantic classical playlist and somehow it fixed it? Enjoy some Georgie smut 💕

Also apologies for some of the mistakes, I think I missed a few while editing!

Snow came down in a heavy drift and what had been a visible pathway and fence at the end of the garden was now barely visible with only the slightest hint of a fence and trees in the distance through the thick white flurry of snow.

The blizzard had already set in for the night hours ago and it didn’t look as if it was going to stop any time soon. You were glad too for the healthy pile of firewood you had collected and for the copious amounts of blankets Molly Weasley had made and given to you throughout the years.

You sighed, idly circling the spoon around in your mug of hot chocolate. You were perched on the front windowsill, peering out through the wobbly, single paned glass windows and you shivered as a particularly icy draft swept through your home.

George had only come over for what was meant to be a quick visit, he wasn’t supposed to stay too long, only for lunch and maybe for mid afternoon tea and then he was meant to go back home. But the snow had come down, seemingly out of nowhere and the winds picked up, whistling through every little crack and sending heavy shivers through you both. But you were thankful at least, that it was George Weasley that you were snowed in with for the night and not alone or with someone you did not do well around for long periods of time.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched as George slept on the sofa, curled up in front of the fire with a thick blanket draped over him, though in his sleep, he had pushed part of it off. Taking the last sip of your hot drink and placing your mug down before you stood and made your way over towards him, reaching out to gently pull the blanket back over him.

You supposed George had been right when he said it would be just like those nights together at the Burrow or when you’d sneak off to spend the night with the twins at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t the same as those times. The truth was, the two of you had never spent a night alone together like this before and as much as you adored his attention, George had the wonderful ability to make you feel hundreds of butterflies fluttering through you just by smiling at you and you were sure that he didn’t even know. He could just say your name in that sweet tone he reserves just for you and your heart melts. And Merlin help you if he calls you sweetheart or princess as he sometimes does.

Was he even aware of what he did to you? You weren’t sure.

It was rare to be able to see George up this close, to see him so peaceful. And of course, you’d had moments with him, some of the best that you’d never forget, but you wondered if you’d ever pluck up the courage to tell him exactly how you felt.

You had been friends with the twins almost from the moment you had met them both in your first year at Hogwarts. A lot had changed since then, you supposed, but one thing that hadn’t was your crush on the quieter twin.

You had met both Fred and George on the Hogwarts Express before your first year had even officially started at school and you had quite literally bumped straight into Fred or George, though to this day you weren’t entirely sure who you had bumped into, because you had been far too flustered and shy to pay full attention and every time you asked the twins, they switched their answer.

You just knew that George had been the one to calmly help you back up and ask if you were alright and if you wanted to sit with them.

How was someone supposed to tell their best friend they were in love with them? Other people around you made it seem so easy, but you had seen enough muggle tv shows and films to know that it doesn’t always work out the way you hope it does and you had a worry that sat firmly in the back of your mind, reminding you nearly every time you wanted to admit it, that it could ruin everything.

If only you could go back and tell your past self that the little school girl crush you began to develop on George that day would turn into something much more meaningful as the years went by.

And by your third year at Hogwarts, you were as thick as thieves with the twins. They were your closest friends and it was very uncommon to see you at a distance from them both. You had always stuck together, especially you and George.

Fred had always said it was because George liked that you were easy to spend time with, it helped being shy you supposed.

But you wondered, you always had, if there wasn’t another reason there too.

You sighed as you reached up, gently brushing his hair out of his face as he lay against the spare pillow you had given him. You’d expect, after all of those years that it might be easier now to admit your feelings. But it wasn’t and you wondered if it ever would be.

There had been so many moments when you had almost told him, that ultimately led to you redirecting the conversation and continuing to hide the feelings you had kept well guarded for years.

Arranging a comfortable bed of cushions to lay on in front of the warmth of the fire, you pulled a blanket around you. But before you settled down to get some sleep, you reached over and gently tucked some of his hair behind his ear so that it was out of his face.

It happened one Christmas at the Burrow, when you and George spent a good few hours up in a little room at the very top of the house, dancing and messing around and joking with each other. You had almost kissed too, had it not been from Percy coming to tell you that dinner was ready.

It happened before the Yule Ball when you had intended to ask him, but George let slip before you could say anything that he was going with Alicia Spinnet.

And it happened once more in the room of requirement when mistletoe had blossomed above you both.

But it never ended up happening because at that exact moment, Fred and Neville had practically burst into the room together.

“I love you, George.” You said it, barely above a whisper. “I wish I could tell you that.” You sighed, pulling away from him before you curled up on your bed of cushions and attempted to get to sleep.

A moment of silence passed as you listened to the gentle pop of the wood in the low fire.

“I love you too.” George finally broke the silence.

“What?” It was whisper as you turned over to face him, the Weasley twin looking down at you from the sofa with a rather smug smile on his lips, eyes dreamy and half lidded. “I love you too.” He repeated. “That is what you said, wasn’t it? That you love me?” George asked, though you both knew that he full well knew the answer to that question.

With your lips parted, a look of embarrassment and shock crossed your features, worrying George as he carefully slid off the sofa, landing not-so-gracefully on the cushions below him.

“How long?” He asked softly as he got comfortable, reaching up to gently caress your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Because I can tell you exactly when I fell for you, sweetheart.” He told you.

“You feel the same?” You asked, voice cracking a little mid sentence as it slowly sank in. You had just unintentionally told your best friend that you were in love with him and now you were stunned, almost to silence by his confession.

George gave you a sweet smile, one that held sincerity, the kind that told you every angle of truth in his words without him having to say a single one.

“Darling, of course. I always loved you, but I think I started to realise I was really in love with you on that first Christmas that you spent at the Burrow.” George explained, his eyes looking off into the fire as he went deep into thought, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Christmas seems to always make me fall more and more for you though, funny that.” He smirked.

“Yes, funny that.” You mumbled, trailing off as you began to think about that first Christmas. The Christmas when you had almost shared your first kiss with George at the top of the Burrow. And you realised that nearly every year, when the snow came and the festivities seemed to be the only thing that everyone was thinking about, you did always seem to fall a little harder for George.

Even if Christmas had already passed, there was nearly always a moment in the wintery bliss, one that would make your heart melt and ache for him and yet it never seemed to blossom into anything.

“But,” George said, smiling as he turned towards you and propped himself up on his elbow so that he was looking down at you. “I can still kiss you even if there is no mistletoe.” He gave you a lopsided grin, effortless charm and you found yourself a giggly mess as he leaned in, gently brushing his thumb against your cheek, lips softly grazing yours and he paused as your light touch trailed up his arm, resting your fingers on his shoulder before he closed the gap.

But perhaps, like the beautiful Snowdrops that blossomed through the mounds of snow that covered the front lawn of the Burrow at this time of year, perhaps you were both ready to let it bloom into something more.

“It was the same Christmas that I fell for you too,” You finally spoke. “When we spent those hours messing about and dancing and talking until the sun went down. And the Christmas after that when we practiced dancing for the ball together.” You told him, George grinning brightly as he leaned back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

“And that time under the mistletoe.” George added. “It’s a shame we never got to, you know-.” You trailed off, shyness taking over for a moment.

“I would’ve if Fred hadn’t come in.” George sighed, hoping that at the very least it would tell you that he was disappointed too.

George kissed you, his lips soft and warm against yours, moving slowly with you as he cradled you in his hands. It was more than you had ever imagined and the love that had lingered for so long deep in your heart became a bright flame, one that made your heart flutter, the warmth of your love for George finally blooming, filling you with a beautiful sense of wonder.

You moved against him, your lips parting only to meet his again within a second. It was breathtaking as he leaned over you, pouring every emotion, every unsaid feeling into the kiss. George kissed you breathless, until you were fully entranced by him, almost dazed by the pure, overwhelming love you felt for him.

Pulling away, just enough to see you, eyes deep with want, lips parted and glistening from your kiss. He wanted nothing more than you kiss you again, he wanted to kiss you all night and do anything you let him.

You were tentative with your touch as you undressed each other, but as George pulled you further into the loving haze the two of you had created, you became a little more brave. While shy to be bare in front of him, part of you craved it, you wanted to see how he looked at you, the way his eyes hooded slightly in lust as he looked you over.

“Please Georgie, I need you.” You whispered it before you even knew what you’d said, and while you were shy about the words that had passed your lips, they were true. You did need him, you desperately wanted him to make you his and the smirk that rested on his lips was enough to tell you that he wanted the same.

“I’ve got you, princess.” George spoke deeply, his warm breath brushing against you softly as he leaned down, pressing gently kisses to your neck.

“George,” His name passed your lips in a soft moan as he took you and while the snow came down and the wind blew against the side of the house, the fire crackling beside you both, all you could sense was him. George’s weight above you was comforting, yet intense as he thrust into you so deep, so gentle but with such a desperate need that you couldn’t help the breathy whine that escaped you. “That’s it sweetheart.” He groaned softly against you.

“I love you.” It came out as a soft sigh and he spoke the words as if they were too delicate to be said any other way. “I love you too.” Your voice airy and light, trailing off as he rocked into you, his hips flush against you for a moment as he reached deep.

You were gorgeous in the light of the fire, your features practically glowed in the gentle warmth of the hearth and George couldn’t help but explore your body, fingers trailing over your chest, thumbs gently teasing your nipples and you arched your back into him, lips parted with pure pleasure.

George could get used to this, he could get used to the way you looked when he brought you closer and closer to your release, the way you whined his name out and how perfectly you reacted to his touch with your lips parted and eyes deep with passion, they way you leaned into him, moved against him so perfectly like you were supposed to be together.

George brought you both closer, a loving, warm haze capturing you both as you looked into his eyes, sharing with him the emotions that played so beautifully in your expressions. Your fingers deep in his ginger hair, tugging gently as he leaned in, pressing kisses down your jaw, tipping your head back as his lips gently trailed down your neck, leaving messy, open mouthed kisses as you gasped, reaching your climax, the heavy wave of your release rolling through you and taking George with you as the fluttering of your walls around him brought him to his own bliss too.

“I love you, sweetheart.” George whispered to you as he looked down at you, taking in your blissed out features, the way you looked beneath him, beautiful and perfect in every way to George Weasley.

“Always remember that, darling.” He spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peace between you as he carefully lowered himself down onto the cushions beside you.

Turning to lean against him you rest your head on his shoulder as George pulled a blanket from the sofa and tucked it around you both.

“I love you too, Georgie.” You mumbled sleepily against him.

He hugged you to his side, embracing you in his loving warmth as the blizzard continued and the wind blew hard against the house.

But it was a perfect winter’s night and your love had finally been able to bloom, just like Snowdrops.

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7 @paintballkid711 @thesewaywardskies @coldlilheart @victorialynn7 @pandaxnienke @megantje123 @loving-life-my-way @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleyslut

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley #fred and george #weasley twins #the weasley twins #weasley twin imagine #weasley twin fanfic #weasley twins imagine #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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caratmagic · 3 years

Text

—jung wooyoung—

contains: arguing, pretty offensive words, explicit content

word count: 2.3k

mika's blog🌻 @marigold-sunflowers & yale's blog🦋 @yateez

🌻taglist🦋: @nikkell @yunsangoveryonder @sunwooyoung @hwanderlands @multidreams-and-desires @reeateez @snacksonwang @sunsethw4 @nevieatiny

Let us know if you want to be added to the taglist!~

Enemy Territory 🌻chapter 4🌻

You hate that you find yourself dragging your feet slowly—yet quietly— to Wooyoung’s door. Hoping that the noises you hear from behind it aren’t those of pleasure.

There’s an exchange of them chatting, audible enough to hear but not enough to make out the words. As if snooping like this wasn’t enough, you press the shell of your ear against the door. Using the frame of it to steady your body from making any unnecessary movements or noise.

A rustle. Then several more. You think you hear the sheets move.

They’ve stopped talking.

More silence, then a loud thump onto the floor.

Your heart races out of your chest and you have a hard time picturing what could possibly be going on inside Wooyoung’s room.

Footsteps hurry to the door and before you could get more than halfway down the hall, Wooyoung’s body peeks out from behind his door.

“Snooping on me now?” He scoffs with that annoyingly charming sneer. “I thought we were supposed to stay out of each other’s business? Now look who’s breaking their own rules.”

You shut your eyes tightly while your back faces your ex.

Fuck.

A breath quickly fills your lungs as you turn around in efforts to compose your expressions. You’re somehow confused as to why he was suddenly wearing a shirt.

“I— I was just about to knock and ask you what type of meat you wanted to grill, you idiot.” Your mouth moves faster than your thoughts and you’re so glad that your brain was quick enough to pull something straight out of your ass. “I didn’t want to… interrupt.”

Wooyoung holds the door open slightly for you to catch a small glimpse of the girl politely seated at the edge of his bed. Blinking curiously at you with a content smile on her face, although her tears still stain her cheeks. “It’s not even noon yet y/n, I’m smarter than that to start having rough sex knowing that you’re in the apartment.”

This thought somehow makes your stomach turn and not in a pleasant way. You didn't want to imagine Wooyoung like this with someone else. Yet, an image of him bare and in his sexual glory flashes across your mind and for a second you forget that you aren’t single. You forget that you have a neglectful boyfriend who likes to have sex with you once a week then proceeds to avoid you until the next weekend arrives.

Does Wooyoung have sex often when I’m not around? Did he have to use the word ‘rough’? Do they have rough sex together?—

Why was the thought of Wooyoung having sex with someone else more distressing to you than the entire problem of your boyfriend literally using you as a weekend booty call?

Not a single soul should know why, because the reality of it all is that: One, Wooyoung is single. And two, you are not.

So you had no right to be bothered about it.

Right?

“Uh. Right,” You subconsciously mess with the tips of your fingers to think of what to say next since you didn’t expect that his comment would throw your mind into a loop. “Just text me when you’ve, um, decided what you want. I’ll head to the store now since you’re busy… so you’ve got 20 minutes to make a choice.”

“No need to wait 20 minutes for me to text you, y/n,” Wooyoung slowly pulls his lips into a gentle smile. A smile that sets off a million bursts of fireworks through your chest. “You already know what kind of meat I like to grill.”

Instantly you blink away the feeling—or at least try to ignore it. “People change. Just wanted to ask in case you had a change in taste.”

Wooyoung presses his lips together before nodding his head slowly. Clearly catching your composure and deciding not to point it out due to the guest on his bed. “Uh, nope. My tastes are constant, y/n.”

The worst part of it all is, your conversation was being monitored by a ditsy flower, just waiting for Wooyoung to come back and take care of her… You hated it. Everything about this set up.

Now, heading out of the apartment to get groceries seemed like a much better idea to you than twiddling your thumbs to wait for Wooyoung’s pretty guest to leave.

“I’ll head out then.”

Upon grabbing your purse and your keys, you curse at yourself mentally for getting caught snooping. Even scolding your heart for causing your mind to lose control of your emotions.

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

It had only been half an hour since you left to get ingredients for the meal with Wooyoung, yet a familiar vehicle pulls into the apartment complex parking lot.

A few flights up and your boyfriend is back at the front of your door. Sure to himself that your car has left and that you’d be gone for a while.

San punches in the code of your apartment door. When it opens, a girl stands on the other side peering up at San with a shocked expression.

“Oh hey, It’s y/n boyfriend.” She smiles before turning to Wooyoung who, at the moment, keeps a straight face.

They had finally completed their 30 minute rant session, where she comes to him for help with her loneliness. Which was a topic to talk about for another time since Wooyoung felt like it wasn’t even his place to do it for her— also, considering he’s rejected her multiple times to be something more than her emotional support friend.

He never felt like a new relationship was something he needed.

As far as relationships are concerned, Wooyoung has enough on his plate to deal with considering the ugly truth he’s recently discovered. And of course, his unsettled feelings for his gorgeous ex.

“What are you doing back?” Wooyoung asks San, holding the door open for his emotionally unstable friend.

“Uh, coming to see my girlfriend??” San exchanges an offended glare at Wooyoung.

“Oh, I thought you already had your fill for her last night… What happened? Fell asleep before you could finish the job?” Wooyoung’s words are calm yet sharp like knives. Attacking San with precision as he tilts his head in accusation. “She’s out getting groceries.” He adds.

“You know,” San narrows his eyes, striding to level his face right in front of Wooyoung’s. “You have a lot of nerve thinking you can have any say in our relationship considering you’re her fucking ex.”

“We only broke up because I decided to switch colleges last minute without telling her.” Wooyoung doesn’t back down. He’s aware that his choice was the reason why the two of you broke up and that he should’ve told you sooner he wasn’t going to go to the same college as you guys had planned. “At least I never snuck out of bed after having sex with her.”

San scoffs at the gall. “Don’t act like you fucking know me.”

“I don’t.” Wooyoung shifts his weight and sticks his hands into his jean pockets. “But I know every part of y/n way better than you do. Every. Single. Part.”

San’s hand clenches into a fist and right before he draws it back to swing at Wooyoung. The girl awkwardly standing beside them in the threshold of the door raises her voice. “Hey, as much as I like the drama, I kind of have work so if I can just pass through…”

San doesn’t steer his eyes away from Wooyoung as he takes a step to the side for the girl to get around his body. Too peeved to realize that he was blocking the door.

“…I’ll see you later, Wooyoung. Thanks for helping me out again.” She waves before disappearing into the hall.

San huffs through his nose. It’s upsetting to him that Wooyoung doesn’t even seem the least bit affected by the situation. “Why aren’t you packing your shit? Isn’t this your last week?”

As if his train of thought derails, without even waiting for an answer to his own questions, San pushes past your ex and heads straight into your room.

Looking for what he left so recklessly before sneaking away that morning.

Wooyoung, with his hands still in his pockets, calmly follows San. Watching your boyfriend’s frantic search for whatever he’s misplaced.

Since Wooyoung respects your privacy, he stops right at the entrance of your room. “Did you wait for y/n to leave the apartment?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” San tosses a pillow off your bed. Not sparing a single glance at your ex.

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung leans against the door. “I mean, if I had something to hide, I guess I’d want to wait until she was gone too.”

San stops completely. His heart drops to his stomach when he turns to your ex standing in front of your room. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Wooyoung shrugs with a playful smirk etching onto his face as one of his hands pulls something out of his right pocket. “You tell me.”

There. What San was looking for.

His phone.

“Where did you find that!?” San yells as he practically dives for it.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wooyoung shoves it back into his pocket. Placing his hand in front of himself defensively. “Question is, why are you so upset?”

San swallows and processes quickly before clearing his throat. He couldn’t understand why his palms were so sweaty. “It’s—Because it’s fucking mine! Hand it over!”

Wooyoung shakes his head, angling his body away from your boyfriend. “It can’t be yours.”

“Are you fucking mad?” San yells again. Smacking Wooyoung’s arm away from the position he’s guarding his pocket. “Of course, it is. It’s my phone!”

“No, no, no.” Wooyoung’s stupid, playful smile begins to boil hate into San’s veins. “This can’t be your phone.”

“I’ll drop kick that fucking smile off your face, you son of a bitch, give me back my phone!”

“Dude,” Wooyoung chuckles, loving how riled up your shitty boyfriend is getting. “I swear this phone has got to be someone else’s… because when I saw it on the couch, ringing at 4 am, someone named Eunji was calling to ask if her ‘daddy’ was still going to—and I’ll quote her on this, “Rearrange my guts like you always do on Saturday nights.” And you're telling me you’re certain that this is your phone?”

The reality settles into the air and San realizes that he’s been caught cheating on you… by your ex.

This is when Wooyoung’s twisted smirk turns into an angry scowl. He’s disgusted that you found a man so indisputably vile and unloyal.

“You really think you’ll get away with this? Lying to y/n like this and fucking her once every week just to make up for how shitty a person you are?”

San’s gaze falters to the floor and he snatches his phone from the unguarded pocket of Wooyoung’s jeans. “What are you gonna do, huh? Tattle-tail on me?” He shoves it into his back pocket, scoffing. “She’ll never believe you. She hates you.”

“Even if she does,” Wooyoung turns on his heels and enters into his room across the hall. “She’ll wish you were dead after figuring out that you leave her in the mornings just to be in some other woman’s bed the very same night.”

San follows Wooyoung a few steps into the hall. “You wouldn’t dare tell her.” He spits.

An exasperated sigh paired with the front door swinging open, startles the two men away from glaring at one another.

*********

After 30 minutes of shopping, you head home.

The entire time in the parking lot, you were gathering the courage to talk yourself into confidently walking back into your house.

So what if he was having sex? You have sex all the time with San while Wooyoung stays in the room across the hall from yours.

How is coming back home knowing that he’s having fun with a woman be any different?

Equality at its best example for it. You remind yourself as you exit the elevator.

To your dismay, You were unpleasantly greeted by a very voluptuous woman with intruding questions as to why you were going to enter into her boyfriend’s home.

You push past the nuisance at your front door. Sighing as you lazily drop the groceries onto the floor.

You can only assume that this other girl— an entirely different girl compared to the one from this morning—is Wooyoung's little problem.

This boy must be cheating… What a waste. “Taste’s are constant” my ass.

You pray that Wooyoung’s ditsy girl toy from earlier this morning has left. Though you liked witnessing drama, you didn’t want to see two girls fight over your ex. “Wooyoung? I think you have a guest.” You call out as you take off your shoes.

To your surprise, Your boyfriend is staring at you from the hallway— eyes wide and stunned.

Wooyoung steps out of his room to stand in the hall next to San. A flat smile sets on his features as he stares at you and eunji. “I won’t need to…” He seems to be talking to San when he speaks. “Next time, set a better password on your phone. You never know who’ll scroll through your messages and send people your girlfriend’s address.”

This confuses you. Immensely. More so, when San’s face drains of all color.

“Baby! Who the hell is this girl?” Miss voluptuous checks your shoulder as she rushes past you. Headed towards Wooyoung with her arms stretched out.

What rattles your world from it’s axis isn’t that Wooyoung doesn’t hold her, it’s that the girl doesn’t even look at him. She doesn’t even acknowledge that Wooyoung’s standing there.

Instead,

She’s all over your boyfriend. Calling him “baby’ and glaring at you as if you were nothing more than a disgusting insect.

No, no… I must be dreaming.

“Sannie, who the hell is this girl and why is she coming into your apartment?”

[ chapter 5 >> ]

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez #ateez imagines #san imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut

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spencerreidscoffeecup · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Boy (blurb) (comfort fluff)

Summary: Spencer feels insecure about his body, but reader cheers him up :)

CW: body image issues, talk of gaining weight, talk of not eating, crying, struggling to eat, kissing, comfort fluff <3

AN: Hello my loves! I hope you guys enjoy this one shot. I've been feeling bad about myself lately and I like to express my emotions through writing so I hope you enjoy this one shot! If you want me to do a one shot like this but y/n is insecure, let me know! (This one shot is kind of a blurb btw) You all are amazing, beautiful, smart, and talented and I love each and every one of you! If you need to talk to anyone, PLEASE message me and I'd be glad to talk. You are not alone, even if it may feel like you are. <33

note: i barely checked it for mistakes, so if there are any, please ignore them lol

Reader's POV:

Spencer was a such a beautiful being.

I loved everything about him.

His bright aura that beamed so brightly around him made it impossible not to see what a kind and caring type of man he was. He was amiable and well-liked when it came to the people he surrounded himself with.

Everything about him was beautiful. His personality, his smile, his whole entire face, his body and soul. He was so pure, yet he felt so damaged inside.

The fact that he thought so lowly of himself made my heart wrench in my chest.

Spencer had been out on a case in Arizona for two days before he got home one Tuesday evening.

I was drying off in the bathroom from just being in the shower when I heard the door to our apartment open and close. Quickly, I got into a purple sweater of Spencer's and some sleep shorts, as well as purple and blue mismatched socks.

Walking out into the living room to see where he was, I found no trace of him, only seeing his satchel hung up on the rack we had by the front door, his black converse stacked ontop of one another in the small wooden cubby under the rack his satchel hung on.

My eyebrows drew together as I called his name out before hearing small sniffles coming from our bedroom. Upon further inspection, I saw Spencer, his back turned away from the door as he sat on the edge of the bed in our room, hunched over slightly as his arms were wrapped around his waist.

"Spence?" I asked sweetly, my tone soft and tender. I walked over to him to see small tears falling from his eyes, my chest tightening at just the sight of him.

"The case must have ended poorly", I had thought to myself, getting on my knees in front of him as I tried to get a better look at him.

"Spence, what happened? Did the case end badly?"

Spencer made no effort to respond with words, only responding with a slight shake of his head.

"Then what's wrong baby?" I asked, bringing a hand up to his knee as I rubbed it soothingly, trying to pry an answer out from him. Instead, Spencer turned away slightly, trying his best to hide his tears from me. "Hm?" I hummed, combing my fingers through his hair before I stood up, sitting behind him on the bed. I softly kissed his back, getting on my knees as I pulled some hair back from his face, kissing his neck gingerly.

After a moment, Spencer turned to look at me, his eyes red and swollen; his tear-stained cheeks a light crimson. He sniffled some more, his lower lip quivering slightly before he wrapped his arms around me tightly, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck. My shirt began to get damp with his salty tears as I shushed him, sobs breaking from his throat, his breathing shaky. I combed my fingers through his chestnut hair. I knew that he was probably seeking solace at the moment, so of course I gave it to him right away.

"I h-hate the way I look-- the w-way I am." he cried softly, his sniffling increasing.

My heart practically shattered at his words as I pulled his face away gently with my hands that cupped his cheeks.

He looked so broken.

"What happened?" I asked gently, feeling the corners of my eyes soften.

Spencer swallowed thickly before responding. "On the case I brought some work shirts with me, and I've worn them throughout the years.. I mean ever since I started at the BAU, but none of them fit me anymore. T-they were all tight on me."

I felt my heart sink as I sighed softly before bringing his head back to my shoulder, Spencer grasping the material of my sweater firmly.

"Spence, our bodies change all of the time. You've been working out and eating more," I whispered through his soft whimpers, guiding him with me to lie down on the pillows behind us. "Your body has changed. And you look amazing. You always have. You're the most beautiful person inside and out...but now that you are getting stronger, your body is acclimating to that."

I felt Spencer angle his head upward to lay a soft kiss on my neck before nuzzling back into it, my arms wrapped around him as I wove my fingers through his hair.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you," Spencer responded, his voice still cracking with emotions that had seeped through; his breathing still shaking as his sniffles lessened. However, I still felt some tears roll off his face and onto my neck, but I paid no mind to it, my only goal was to show Spencer how amazing he was and how much he meant to me. It was quiet for a few minutes, his breathing starting to become less rapid. "I-I haven't eaten much these past few days. I haven't felt like I deserve food." he murmured.

"Love, you deserve food.. Your body deserves food. Do you want to eat right now? I have some thai food I ordered for the two of us tonight." I suggested, feeling Spencer tug me towards his body, pulling me impossibly close to him.

"Can we sleep for a little first? I haven't gotten much rest either."

"Of course, love."

Spencer pulled away a little to look at me, his eyes no longer filled with tears, nor did they have the essence of stress that laced them like earlier. They were puffy and red, his lips swollen and a dark pink from his incessant biting, but he smiled lovingly at me, and I mirrored his look. He pulled me close again, kissing my lips gently and with so much care.

"Spence, you are so amazing, smart, and beautiful. You're perfect. And I know it may not help but I will love you no matter the circumstances. Even if you lose or gain weight, it doesn't matter to me. The only thing that matters is that you're healthy, safe, and happy." I whispered against his lips, peppering a small kisses on them.

I pulled away to see that his face had lit up with a small blush.

Spencer slotted his lips over mine, tugging me close to him as he littered my face and neck with small kisses. I didn't expect an answer or response from him. He didn't need to answer me. His affection seemed to have answered all the questions in the world.

Spence and I had fallen asleep, our limbs perfectly woven together as we breathed in each other's calming scents.

I missed this.

I missed him.

Of course I knew he had only been gone for a couple days, but I still couldn't help but feel emotional when he would get home from cases.

His job was extremely dangerous, and the fact that he had such an amazing team that kept him as safe as possible to come back to me made my heart happy.

I don't know what I would do without him.

It had been around two hours since he had made it home. Meaning we had slept for about an hour and a half. I gently pried myself from his deadly grasp, walking to the kitchen to heat up the thai food that had been sitting in the fridge for several hours now.

If he wanted to eat, that would be great.

However, if he didn't feel the need to eat anything I wasn't going to force him. I just knew that food is what he most definitely needed after all of this.

I set some water on the table, dishing the food out onto plates as I heard Spencer call my name sleepily from our room.

My heart fluttered in my chest, my stomach filling with so many butterflies it was nauseating.

I walked into our room, seeing Spencer half awake, his eyes barely open.

"C'mere," he croaked, making grabby-hands towards me as I giggled. I walked over to him, kissing his forehead as I sat on the bed. Spencer smiled lazily, "Thank you for being you and making me feel better."

"Of course, Spence. Although I'm not really sure how to be anybody else." I joked, kissing his lips softly, Spencer chasing mine as I pulled away. I kissed him again. "There's food on the table. If you don't want it you don't need to eat it, but I think it would make you feel less sleepy." I said, combing my fingers through his hair, Spencer nuzzling his head into my palm like a small kitten would with its owner.

He nodded softly, sitting up and taking my hand as we began to walk to the kitchen.

He sat down at the table, looking down at the food nervously.

"I-I don't know if I should eat," he frowned, shoving his food around on the plate in front of him.

"Okay, you don't need to eat. You can just have something tomorrow. But if you really are hungry but you feel like you don't deserve it, remember-- you do. Your body needs fuel, and you deserve to eat something delicious." I said, rubbing his hand under the table.

Spencer nodded, taking a bite of the chicken that sat in front of him. He chewed a few times before digging into his rice.

We began eating, Spencer only focused on eating his rice and vegetables and not his chicken. Which of course was fine by me as at least he was eating something.

After about twenty minutes, Spencer cleaned the table as I washed my dishes. He wrapped his arms around me as I finished washing out a ceramic bowl. Resting his head on my shoulder, he pulled my hair back from my neck and kissed the soft tissue. I smiled, drying my hands off and kissing his lips.

"Hey, you want to take a bath with me?" I asked, and Spencer nodded fervently, bending down to kiss me once more before following behind me to the bathroom.

The rest of the night was calm and filled with so much love. We sat in the bubble bath, saying our I love you's and sharing small touches and kisses.

I had so much love to give him that it felt almost impossible.

But I was going to try and gift it to him.

Because he deserved all the love in the world.

I think that one of the greatest misfortunes is that we, as humans, are unable to truly see our own beauty. We cannot see how we look when we have a genuine laugh. We cannot see how we look when we smile brightly around others. We can only see what we wished we looked like. We can only see what we look like in pictures and in videos. And since our cellular devices do not hold the ability to show what we look like in the eyes of a fellow human, we feel bad about ourselves when we look back at the picture or the video.

I like to think of it like this: Have you ever taken a picture of the moon with your phone?

If you have, the picture probably came out to be blurry, maybe sort of lackluster. But when we put away our devices and tilt our heads back to look at the beautiful craters that indent the white glow of the moon, we believe that it is one of the most mesmerizing things. That nothing can compare to the way the moon looks on a clear, dark night; the stars twinkling around the celestial body which makes it all the more ethereal.

Fact of the matter is: our eyes are sneaky little things. They make us think that we are looking into a funhouse mirror when we look at our reflection. We may think our head is too big or too small. Or that our teeth are crooked and yellow.

But I truly believe one thing, which is that our beauty 'flaws' is what makes us all the more beautiful. The stretch marks that lie paths on our skin make us look all the more beautiful, all the more grown. The skin dimples that rest so gently upon our soft tissue creates a look of realness, which is something I find so adornful.

Because in reality, our bodies are most beautiful when we show off our so-called flaws.

#fluff #bodypositivity #criminalminds #spencerreidxreaderfluff

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: *long sigh* finally. This story has been haunting me for months now. I was so tempted to just go crazy and start uploading it because I love it so much. But If I’m uploading this, it means that we’ve made it to the promised day! Yay! You guys, I think this may be one of my favorites. Which, if we’re being honest, all of my works are my favorites. But this is everything.

That is all. Please read and enjoy. Let me know your thoughts, I’d be overjoyed to hear from you.

Chapter 1. Unbreakable Bond

It was easier than I thought it would be; breaking the bond. Perhaps I was just desperate enough. Practically begging on my knees as I stood outside the dingy apartment building, knowing that this was irreversible.

Wanting it to be irreversible.

The woman’s name is Christina, and she gives me a wary look as she explains the cutting process. Her own severed thread is a testament to her underground business. I trust her.

“I need you to be absolutely positive about this,” she warns. “There's no going back once I cut the thread. It will be nearly impossible to find your soulmate.”

That’s the least of my problems. I know that it’ll be all too easy to check in on the whereabouts of my soulmate; after all, he rarely goes anywhere without it being broadcasted to the entire world.

“Burn it.”

Warning me about the impending heat as she pulls out a blowtorch, I hear her sigh. Christina gathers up my thread and places it delicately atop a metal slab.

The little warehouse attached to her apartment offers little distraction; there are a few scattered tools laying about and nothing else but dull gray walls. In a time like this, a distraction would be nice.

“Do you ever regret it?” I ask, an uneasy turn of my stomach pushing the question out. Christina pulls her faceguard down, gesturing for me to look the opposite way. My shadow takes up the entire wall as she fires up the blowtorch.

“Me?” I can feel the heat of the fire, but I refuse to flinch. “Not really. But I do feel a bit bad for my soulmate.”

I frown at the gray wall. “Why?”

Christina shifts to get a more direct angle on the thin red thread that hangs from my finger and extends to disappear under the door. “You’re not the only one who is about to lose a soulmate today. At least it’s your decision.”

Staring at the unforgiving gray wall, I have plenty of time to mull over her response. However, the second I begin to worry or feel sorry for my soulmate, I remember the sweaty palms and crippling anxiety from earlier.

As Christina takes a step back after nearly thirty minutes, turning the blowtorch off, I turn to assess the damage. Frowning at the still intact thread, Christina snorts.

“Don’t move.”

She takes a lofty hammer in her hands, bringing it down hard on the thread. I gasp as sparks fly into the air, my thread tightening around my finger and pulling. Grabbing my hand, I struggled to remain upright on the stool.

“We’re almost there!” Christina huffs, bringing the hammer down again and again. Sparks continue to fly, one landing on my shoulder and burning a small hole in my shirt. My hiss of pain is cut short as the pressure on my finger suddenly loosens, nearly causing me to fly backward since I was straining against it.

My breath comes up short as Christina removes the hammer from atop the thread, and I see what happened.

The formerly vivid red hue fades to a dull color, almost a brown-red like dried blood. I watch as the frayed ends begin to retreat, one end slipping off the table and disappearing under the door.

I push off the stool, ripping the door open just in time to see the red thread glinting under the moonlight, drifting away on a breeze. Retreating to its other half.

Glancing down at my hand, I hold up my finger where the other frayed end stops just a few centimeters away from the base of my finger.

“Yeah, it’ll stay like that,” Christina says as she comes to stand beside me. “Unless you want me to burn your finger off…?”

I give her a dry chuckle. “No, thanks. It’s alright like this.” I tilt my head, marveling at the fact that I’m looking out into the world without my thread obscuring my view. “So...will his thread just disappear?”

Christina shakes her head. “Your threads, while cut, still mirror each other. So his will look like yours in a few minutes when it catches up to him.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

She invites me back inside, offering me a salve for my aching shoulder that was burned, frowning as she tells me that it will most likely scar.

“I’ll just consider it a souvenir,” I mumble. Christina laughs.

“That’s the spirit.” She passes me a mug of apple cider, sitting across from me at the same metal slab she calls a table where my thread was severed. “So, do you know who your soulmate is, then? Is that why?”

I take a long sip of the cider, my mind instantly replaying the scene from hours earlier. “I know who he is. Although, I wouldn’t say that I cut it because of who he is. He’s a great guy, actually. Top notch.”

Christina raises her brows at me. “Really? What makes you say that?”

I pause to look at my frayed thread, the string of fate loved by the world over. The thread that I always thought would bring me joy beyond belief, but made me realize that it would be better to let go.

For him.

“Do you know BTS?”

Christina sets her mug down with a loud bang. “Do I - of course I know who they are. Why?” Her expression turns to horror. “Why?”

I wince, taking another sip of my cider. Holding my hand up to display my severed thread, I wiggle my finger. “Park Jimin.”

✂

Jimin is in the middle of his dinner when he feels a sharp tug on his red thread. Chuckling at it, he holds his hand up for the thousands of fans watching his live to see.

“My soulmate is acting up, I think.” He watches as the comments flood in, most everyone mourning the fact that they are not his soulmate. A few people tease him about it being them on the other side of the thread, and while he knows that they’re simply joking with him, he can’t help the increase in his heart rate.

If only.

The thread tightens around his finger, making him hiss in pain. “Ouch,” he mutters, pulling back against the thread in order to sit still. “Sorry, everyone. What were we talking about? Oh, right. The concert today -”

Jimin whines as the thread pulls even harder, nearly causing him to spill his drink. Pulling back as hard as he can, he gives the camera an apologetic smile.

Then, his eyes widen as an idea strikes him. “Do you think I should follow it?” He asks excitedly. He hasn’t ever heard about people’s threads pulling them in the direction of their soulmate when they’re not even in the same room, but maybe she’s here, staying at the same hotel-

“I’ve gotta go!” Jimin shouts, blowing a kiss with his free hand before promising to visit everyone again soon. “Thanks guys!” Ending the live, Jimin shoots out of his chair, barely remembering to grab his room key before bursting out of his room and into the hallway.

Following the pull of the thread, he grins as he follows it to the elevator. Punching the button as hard as he can, he jumps from one foot to another as he waits for the doors to open.

“C’mon, c- bingo!” Sliding into the elevator with a gleeful shriek, he ponders for a moment before deciding to hit the ground floor.

Jimin’s cheeks are red with excitement by the time he reaches the lobby of the hotel, not even noticing when a couple of the bodyguards that escorted them to the concert venue today see him and immediately start following him.

“Mr. Park!” One of them calls. “Mr. Park! You can’t just leave without some form of security!”

Jimin hardly spares him a glance as he bolts for the exit where his thread continues to pull him. “Then follow me!”

The bodyguards chase after him into the night, exchanging concerned glances as Jimin follows after his thread like a convict on the run.

They nearly tackle him as they round a corner he just turned a few seconds prior, stumbling to a stop as they see Jimin standing still in the middle of the empty road.

“Mr. Park,” one of them pants. “Where are you going?”

Jimin stays completely still, the sudden lack of tension from his thread causing his heart to stop. Glancing down at where it’s wrapped around his finger, he feels the exact moment his heart stumbles to a stop.

Floating on a breeze, he sees the other end of his thread. Skimming along the ground like a plastic bag tossed about by the wind.

“What is it?” Jimin breathes out, the question leaving his lips without his consent. “What is it?”

There’s a chill that settles over him as the thread comes closer and closer, making Jimin retreat almost as though he could stop it from reaching him.

“No!” He yells, taking another step back as the end of the thread now arrives at his foot. “No! Not like this!”

The bodyguards watch on with disbelief as the thread works its way up to Jimin’s hand, slowing to a stop just below his finger. They’re continually glancing down at their own threads, making sure that they aren’t about to stumble upon the same ugly fate.

But it’s just Jimin with the cut thread. It’s just Jimin, who falls to his knees with a dull thump. Staring down at the thread, raising his shaking hand and grasping the frayed edge.

“Are they…?” One young bodyguard asks. His senior shakes his head.

“No. The thread turns gray when they die, remember?”

“Then what happened?” He asks again, eyes wide.

His senior sighs heavily, heart breaking at the sight he’s only ever heard stories about. “They must have found someone to cut it.”

The young bodyguard gasps. “Cut it? Is that even possible?”

Jimin’s sobs answer the question for him, the sound echoing off the buildings. One by one, lights turn on in the surrounding apartment buildings as people wonder what the commotion is all about.

Jumping into action, the bodyguards swarm Jimin, picking him up and supporting him between the two of them. Jimin’s body is weak and limp as he shouts and sobs.

“C-come back to me.”

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

the worst case scenario 2

i did decide to make this a little parter thing, but really want to be as sensitive as poss (honestly using this as a sort of therapy for what I see myself ah). So please do not read if anything in the warnings may trigger. I very much am not trying to ‘romanticise’ these sorts of situations in any way but also be aware medically this is NOT accurate.This part is short but I think there will be more.

warnings: hospital - ICU, respirators / mention of death , maternal mortality / talk of family dynamics and abandonment of a child

[previous part]

The sight Nikki walked into is something that as a parent you never want to see. Walking into this cold and otherwise empty ‘relatives room’ to see her son collapsed in a world of pain onto his best mates chest. Tom was too busy sobbing to even notice her entrance but her and Harrison instantly locked eyes . Not even able to muster up a greeting smile, Harrison just nodded her in, admitting her entrance to the most horrific situation.

It was about half an hour since she had been texting Haz, arranging when they’d be able to come and visit the newborn in hospital or whether it would be better to just wait till the new family got settled back at home, when Nikki had got a call from Tom’s number. With an excited grin she had instantly whipped her phone off the kitchen counter within one ring- a facial expression that didn’t last long at all.

Met with the distant sound of crying first, Harrison’s deeper voice then emitted itself from her phones speaker, alerting her to the fact everything was very not right. He’d asked her to come to the hospital, said it was Y/n, that the baby was fine and then hung up. Dom immediately agreed to come with her but right now he was still parking the car, having dropped Nikki off right at the front. It had sounded that bad.

Now, she knelt down infront of Haz and Tom, the latter who still was leaning over the arm rest and currently silently crying into his friends chest. Haz didn’t miss Nikki’s hands shaking as she reached out and rubbed up and down her sons back, the action prompting him to suddenly lean up to face her. He was broken. Totally and completely broken. Wordlessly, Nikki looked up for a second, communicating with Harrison so as if rehearsed he stood up and Nikki took his place in the chair - giving him a break from being Tom’s support. Beyond appreciative of how well Nikki could read a situation, Haz quietly but still in a hurried fashion made his way to the door.

Because he was about to crack too - Tom couldn’t see him like that, not right now at least. And so his legs, completely of their own volition, carried him down the hallways. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, all sense of time passing had completely been thrown off earlier in the morning. He was oblivious to a lot, very much in his own thoughts and only realised where he had ended up when a nurse he vaguely recognised managed to garner his attention.

“You’re here for baby Holland? She’s just round here.”

“I-“ He couldn’t respond but the nurse just nodded and then started off down the hallway, practically forcing the blonde to follow a couple of meters till they got to a perspex viewing window.

“She’s the little cutie in the far corner over there.” The brunette middle aged lady softly spoke as she pointed through the glass to the incubator in the corner. “ Don’t worry about all the equipment, the doctors already come round and cleared her. She’s good to go home when you guys are…are ready.” Her words had trailed off, Harrison guessed she didn’t know how to phrase the current ‘situation’ Tom and Y/n were in either. After a couple of moments, the nurse placed a gentle hand on Harrison’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You want to have a cuddle? I know your not dad but…”

“Yeh-yeh…please.”

Harrison just felt awful. The little girl was barely hours into life and yet she wasn’t receiving nearly as much as love as she should be. Instead unnamed and alone in a cold and clinical setting. So he silently nodded away, taking in all the instructions the nurse gave as she sat him down in the arm chair next to the incubator.

Once she placed the little blanket wrapped bundle in his arms the nurse smiled gently up at Haz “You want to feed her? I’m sure she’d prefer it from you than me love?” Ah. Now Haz really was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She’d never been given a feed before - except presumably the midwifes.

“I-uh Y/n hasn’t even so I probably shouldn’t…”

“I can promise you Miss Y/l/n would probably want her baby to be cared for by someone that loves her and that Miss Y/l/n trusts herself.” Ooof. How were nurses so intuitive? She literally read his mind and broken down all the ill-founded ideas Harrison had built up.

“I’m not her Dad.”

“But you care.” Looking down once and briefly at the squished little face that wormed herself into Harrisons broad chest a little more, he then immediately nodded in agreement. Looking almost relieved, the nurse handed him a bottle and directed him as to how to hold it. After mere moments she gasped happily, leaning back whilst the blonde boy waited for her input.

“She’s latched on easy peasy. You’re doing great, I can leave you to it if you want - I’ll only be round the corner.”

“Can you check if there’s any news on Y/n?” The kind lady nodded, before promptly exiting the room - leaving the two actually alone for the first time ever.

He didn’t even think about it, whilst Haz cradled her in one arm and held the bottle up at the angle shown by the nurse, he quietly spoke to the little bundle.

“I’m sorry you were lonely… your mum and dad love you lots and lots… we all do.” Not realising he was crying, Harrison almost scared himself when a single strangled and repressed sob escaped from his chest. “ You’re mum…. She’s a pain in the arse right?” Haz laughed a little wetly “ She’s sarky as hell and she always has an answer… you’d probably think she’s a badass… she is. And-and…. Your dad is just scared… He loves you I promise, he just… he’s worried about you mum.” Now there was actual tears welling up and overflowing his lower lash line, not matter how much he tried to blink them away. “But whatever… whatever happens. You got all of us kiddo… you got me.”

Jolted out of his thoughts by the ladies knuckles rapping twice on the door, Harrison immediately shook himself out of it, wiping his face on his arm to hopefully remove all the evidence of the slight emotional breakdown.

“Mr Osterfield… the doctor wanted me to let you know he’s on his way to talk to Mr Holland.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Harrison managed to get back to Tom, Nikki and now Dom before Dr Webber returned, so with a greeting nod to Dom he too took a seat opposite Nikki and Tom. His best mate wasn’t crying anymore, which could be considered a positive were it not for the sinisterly empty look in his eye. He looked almost robotic, staring almost straight ahead at the light grey wall, sat straight and rigidly except for his one hand clasped in Nikki’s.

“You went to see the baby?” Nikki broke the silence, making Harrison smile sadly over at her with a nod. It didn’t even look as though Tpm heard his mum speak, even if he was sat right next to her. “She’s okay?”

“Yeh…I gave her a bottle. She-she’s very cute.” Harrison could see Nikki’s face morph into one of kindness before she looked left toward her son. Nikki was still yet to see to unnamed girl but just thinking about her made her heart flutter. And then stop when she thought about what that little girl was already going through, barely hours into existence.

“You hear that Tom? Maybe you could go down and see her soon? After we’ve spoken to the doctor?” Nikki was only trying to do the best thing, Harrison knew it and deep down Tom did know it too. But now really really wasn’t the time for some gently encouragement from his mother, it wasn’t just Tom being a little stubborn. This was his whole entire world falling apart around him. He didnt have the energy or focus to even shoot down his mother, instead Tom chose to stay completely still - engrossed in his own thoughts.

From the outset, when you take that leap and say to a person ‘I think we should try for kids now’ you are completely putting yourself at the mercy of the other. But when they agree? Then it’s a commitment. Not it the same way marriage is - because that’s a completely selfish gesture, you get married because YOU want to be married to each other. Rather, agreeing to have a kid is a promise, a promise of something more. Promising that you are bringing this life into the world - and half of that life is yours. You create it together and it becomes a joint responsibility. You can never, no matter what people think, ever stop being a parent. At the end of it all there will be another person that knows, scientifically, it is half you. Even if they never met you - they still ‘knew’ you. They would know you had to exist, they would see things in themselves that cannot be explained rather than the influence of their creator.

And sure, it didn’t always work out that way. A parent would up and leave, a child always with questions and a sense of betrayal. But that child… they know you. Because there is half of you in them.

So it was Y/n and Tom together that was slumbering blissfully on a ward downstairs. That was the scary thing. Tom was so sure he didn’t have it in him. He wouldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t be a dad to a baby without a mum. He couldn’t be a parent without Y/n.

Almost thankfully for the atmosphere in the room, a soft know had them all snatching their heads up the very same grey slightly potato like doctor waddled in, this time followed by 2 others; a tall, dark haired woman with a soft and empathetic smile; then another man but this one tall and slender, unlike the other two who were wearing professional clothes, he was donned in scrubs (with the scrub hate too).

“Mr Holland and uh… family” Dr Webber awkwardly greeted the new arrivals of Nikki and Dom, somehow apparently sensing they were Tom’s and not Y/n’s parents who were hours away. Oh fuck, Tom hadn’t even phoned them yet.

“This is Dr Alison Goodwell and then Dr Rohan Avinash, he is Y/n’s surgeon.” They filed in and took seats surrounding them, Dom and Harrison standing up to stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way of the doctors. All Tom could do though was overanalyse everything. Why was the surgeon here? What was this other lady doing here? A pathologist? — no, he wasn’t going to think like that. Then the taller and most scary looking of the three inched forward, commanding the attention of the whole room.

“Mr Holland, I just wanted to go over what happened. Ms Y/l/n developed plactental accreta, which was the cause of the what we call here a post partum haemorrhage. When you raised the alarm she had already lost, at best guess, 3 pints of blood which is a lot, there’s no denying. Dr Webber and his team quickly brought her up to my team in surgery. We transfused her with blood but we couldn’t stabilise her and the bleeding didn’t show any signs of stopping so we had to perform emergency surgery….” Dr Avinash slowed down as he took in how close Tom looked to bursting out in tears once again, offering him the chance to have a moment to collect himself. Vehemently shaking his head in refusal, Tom crung his hands together furiously. He just needed to know. “Okay… Now the nature of the surgery, because we had to be so quick…it is quite invasive and is a lot of stress to put on anyones body. That and the amount of blood she had already lost makes the situation very dangerous. Sometimes when this happens a persons heart-“ Tom’s breath halted in his throat at the mention of her heart, Harrison sharing the bleak trigger which made him shift uncomfortable between his two feet. “-notices this, it goes into what we call hypovoloemic shock, this just basically means its not getting enough volume of blood to pump properly. So we have had to stimulate Ms Y/l/n’s heart with electricity to keep it pumping-“

“You shocked her?” He felt so numb and now adrenalin was coursing through his own veins, images like you see on TV shows of her body arching up not he table from the volts of electricity.

“I’m afraid we did have to but it meant we could keep her stable enough to fix the bleed. I am sorry to say this but we’ve had to remove her whole womb because it was so damaged.”

“But Y/n?” Again Harrison lost all willpower of control, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if he was being impatient or not - this doctor appeared to be delivering this news painfully slowly, as if to torture everyone as much as possible.

“Your fiancé lost a lot of blood and her body went through a lot” The towering doctor kept his focus on Tom the whole time, Harrison’s interjection seemingly falling on selectively deaf ears. “We’ve had to use a machine to control her breathing and for the moment she is still in a very dangerous place. Right now she is stable but I don’t want to make any promises to you. We are nowhere close to out of the woods yet.” Seemingly, feeling compelled to add in, the brunette doctor spoke for the first time since entering.

“But it’s still one hurdle she has got through… Now that the surgeons are finished with Ms Y/l/n me and the other intensive care doctors will be keeping a very close eye on her okay? We are all going to be working with you and your family 24/7, to keep Y/n as comfortable as possible.” Her soft smile managed to somehow break through to Tom, who jerkily nodded while Nikki squeezed his hand tight. There had been a lot of that going on today and even if Tom would say he wished nothing more that it was Y/n rather than his mums grip - he still appreciated it. The doctor continued, leaning forward so her elbows were resting on the tops of her thighs. “Right now she’s asleep and probably will be for quite a while. We first want to be sure she’s not in any pain, so she is sedated. Now assuming everything goes okay tonight and she stays stable we might want to think about possibly reducing that sedation, however for right now I hope you are all in agreement that we just want to make sure she’s comfortable?” The whole room nodded steadily in response which the doctor acknowledged with a satisfied smile.

“And we are all aware this is a lot to take in so if you have any questions or think of any please just let us know - it’s important that you guys are all fully in the know… How is your daughter?” Dr Webber started off so well, Tom was almost going to smile thankfully at him, until he mentioned it. Instantly, the cold and empty look reappeared behind Tom’s eyes as the room was held in silence for long enough to be uncomfortable. To be fair, the doctor wasn’t to know that recently Tom had taken to refusing to acknowledge he even had a child.

“I-she’s really good… the nurse there said she’s ready to leave whenever” Harrison had to show that at least someone was looking out for her, he couldn’t not.

“Okay” sharing a knowing look with Harrison, Dr Webber pitifully clasped his hands together, before looking back to Tom. “Would you like Dr Alison take you up to see her, sir?”

again pls let me know if anyone is very not okay with this, i can take it down and not write any more!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #Tom Holland angst #angst

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