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tarotwitchy · 2 years ago

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{pick a card readings}

Pile 1 —> Pile 3

Pile 4 —> Pile 6

It's been a very long time, dear followers. I'm alive, and I'm back. I'm so, so sorry for not being active. But I'm back for a new pick a card reading! I said I'll be more active months ago... but look at where we're at. 🙃

For this PAC, we're focusing on your innermost parts that you may or may not be aware of. It could be something you've been using to your advantage, or it could be something that you weren't aware of, but others can clearly see it from you.

Pick a dark image from left to right, top to bottom. There are 6 piles. Take your time to internalize the choices above.

❌ Please do not plagiarize my work, or post it elsewhere without my permission and credits. Thank you! ❌

Pile 1

7 of Swords • 10 of Pentacles • The Emperor • 7 of Cups • Queen of Swords • The Lovers • Buffalo Spirit

How you understand your dark side:

You are someone who is very resourceful, and someone who's very capable of achieving anything that you set your mind into. You know this, and people can attest to your abilities to make things happen. However, you can become so much of a high-achiever to the point where you won't hesitate to resorted to unethical and morally questionable methods, as long as no one is looking. You can become very cutthroat when you want to, and especially when you need to. You're not afraid to cut people down if you were being asked to choose between them and yourself. You probably won't even consider a middle ground to "save every one," or bargain for a better outcome in a situation, so that all parties can win or survive. Most likely, you would also ensure that you get the best of the best when it comes to the choices that life throws your way; and in effect, other people are left in your dust.

How people perceive it:

The way people can see this manifest is by the way you can talk down to them. You certainly have a way of interacting with others that can rub off the wrong way, but most people are afraid to speak up for the fear that you'll bring hell upon them. They can clearly feel your competitive nature, and they can see how you blatantly outmaneuver them in your internal game of chess. Thus, there's a divide in the people who are in your life; ones that want to get into your good graces in hopes that you'd spare them, and ones who won't even tolerate that and leave. Futhermore, you are also stubborn by nature. Once you say your opinions, you have the tendency to expect that people will automatically agree with you. And people can see that behavior from you. A word of caution, though. If you don't develop these aggressive traits into something more positive, you might end up isolating yourself since you can drive people away from you.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Pile 2

The Star • Queen of Cups • 4 of Pentacles • 9 of Swords • 10 of Wands • 4 of Swords • Racoon Spirit

How you understand your dark side:

The immediate phrase that I heard when the cards were laid out was Victim Mentality. Your dark side stems from feelings of being marginalized and victimized by your circumstances or your upbringing. It could be that a parent was very harsh during your childhood, and that left you feeling like your inner child never had the chance to heal and experience what it feels like being a carefree person. It is because of this that pain is internalized deeply, and you have been suffering from the inside for far too long. It would be great if you had a physical outlet to channel your internal energy into something sensory. But I'm getting that most of you in this pile have chosen to solely keep the pain inside, instead of letting it out properly and healthily.

How people perceive it:

The people around you sense this great burden you carry within you, even behind your bright smiles and upturned eyes. And most people really have the heart and empathy to help you in any way they can. However, the can also see how you're not proactively trying to move on from the pain. You're still in your dwelling stage. You still dwell on your pain, and fully immerse yourself in your tragic memories. While there's no "one-size-fits-all" way to recover, you have to be aware enough that you can't carry your burden forever. Those same people who try to help you will eventually become exhausted in their attempts to aid you in your healing journey; and people are not meant to be our crutches. You have what it takes to recover from this burden as long as you let people in, and be receptive to healthy change.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Pile 3

9 of Pentacles • Justice • King of Swords • Wheel of Fortune • 5 of Pentacles • 5 of Cups • Bee Spirit

How you understand your dark side:

There's a darkness lingering in your mind from time to time. Depending on the people who picked this pile, there will even be some who feel this darkness on a regular basis. And that is fear. You have this universal fear that's plaguing your mind and heart. While we all have different reasons as to when and why this fear came to be, this pile shares the fear of not being good enough. You're afraid that you will never reach your goals in life, your dreams and aspirations. You might also fear not being good enough for your friends and family who have high expectations of you. But most of all, you're afraid of disappointing yourself. You know within your heart that you are capable of great things... but you are so afraid to fail and feel the humiliation of not making it. You get easily daunted by the challenges you face, that you forget you are facing these challenges only because you are capable of surpassing them.

How people perceive it:

You know what they say when "sharks can smell blood?" There are two different types of people who can perceive your fear. One who is willing to help you overcome it, and give you all the support and aid to show you how much they care about you. But there are also those who want to take advantage of your hesitations and fear to their own advantage. What you need to do is to sniff them out before they even get the chance to see your fears, and immediately steer clear from them. You don't need people in your life who can leech off of your pain and darkness. You need people in your circle who can lift you beyond your apprehensions and doubts in order to help you become a better person, and to make you realize your capabilities. And lastly, you need to be able to soothe the fearful child within you. Be gentle with yourself, forgive yourself when you don't get your goals the first time around, and keep on persevering.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Pile 4

Page of Wands • 6 of Wands • 8 of Wands • 4 of Cups • The Devil • 7 of Wands • Crocodile Spirit

How you understand your dark side:

There's a lot of fire energy in this pile; you probably either have prominent fire placements, or that you consider yourself a fiery person. In this pile, it is indicated that you have a lot of goals in life, lots of things you want to accomplish, and you have an ambition that can be too overwhelming for small-minded people to wrap their heads around. This pile is similar to Pile 3; the only difference is that your external environment is your adversity. You allow people to get under your skin, and their words to pierce your flesh and soul. You internalize what they say about you — even when they don't know an inkling about who you are, or what you actually do in life to make things happen. Hence, you have the tendency to becoming more hostile to other people who have good intentions because you most likely can no longer differentiate the good ones from the bad bunch. Since the majority of the people in your environment are waiting to see you fall, you are overlooking those few who actually want to help you succeed. Be more mindful of your actions, and don't immediately respond with hostility.

How people perceive it:

And indeed, there are a lot of people in your environment who wish to see your downfall. But as I've mentioned, there are those who have good intentions on your behalf. They do want to help. Some people might come off as intense or frank; but that's only because they're probably the type of people who cut to the chase, and would offer you constructive criticism. This is why people might perceive your bad side as you being hostile, aggressive, and pushing them away. Furthermore, they see you as someone impenetrable when it comes to opinions. Once you've made up your mind, there's little to no one who can change it. They just don't understand that you're trying to protect yourself from their harsh judgments and scrutiny. In order for you to rectify this, try to allow people to demonstrate through their actions how they want to help you. Maybe then would you see their genuine intentions.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Pile 5

6 of Wands • 4 of Wands • Ace of Swords • Ace of Cups • Knight of Wands • 4 of Cups • Beaver Spirit

How you understand your dark side:

Your dark side has something to do with impatience. Your spirit has the essence of haste, and of abrupt movement. You want to get from point A to point B in a short amount of time with as little effort as possible. But as we all know, that's not how it usually works. You get easily frustrated when things don't go your way, and you tend to create a maelstrom of stress around you because of the delays and the hiccups — unfortunately, this can also affect others who are actually around you. When you don't get what you want, or if there's more extra steps needed to accomplish a certain task or goal, or maybe there's a need for you to wait in life, you get agitated and easily frustrated. But in order for you to develop into a better version of yourself, you need accept that you need to put the actual work, patience, and perseverance in order to get what you want. Whether it's about your goals in life, or relationships, you can't rush things. The Universe puts us in situations in order for us to learn and grow in our own time. The more you force things to happen when it's not ready, the more it's going to become skewed. More problems will arise, and delays will become even more inevitable. Step by step is the key.

How people perceive it:

As I'm writing this, I am actually getting breathless and my brows are getting knitted together. I can only imagine that this is how people around you feel when you get into your bouts of impatience and frustration. People feel your stress from a mile away. They can feel as weary and winded by your internalized agitation due to you not getting what you want. It's as if they themselves want to get to the bottom of your problems just so they can get rid of the stress you are unconsciously passing on to them. I just heard this phrase right now: "What is it you're so stressed about?! What's going on, and why are you feeling so impatient? Please calm down!" The people in your life feel as frustrated as you — perhaps, even more — because they're seeing someone they love going through a moment of tension and anxiety. They do care about your well-being, Pile 4. So, if you want to also alleviate their stress, I suggest you practice methods to calm and ground you back to objectivity, such as making a realistic timetable to see the progression of the task or goal you're so frustrated and impatient about.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

Pile 6

The Hierophant • Queen of Swords • Judgment • 7 of Swords • 3 of Pentacles • 8 of Cups • Shark Spirit

How you understand your dark side:

In this reading, your dark side is being reflected as inferiority. It seems like there are a lot of authority figures in your life. You most likely grew up with parental figures who were quite authoritative, and now that you're grown (or as you're growing further), you're subconsciously connecting and associating with people who can mimic that authoritarian presence you're so used to. Unfortunately, you end up attracting a lot of people who don't necessarily have your best intentions in mind. These people do not recognize your strengths because you allow these people to push you and order your around. You fear them, yet you hate them as well. The way I see it, it has become this draining cycle of wanting to live up to people's expectations of you, then failing to do so because you're seeking the approval of the people who will never approve of what you do — no matter how grand your achievements are. It's already taking a toll on your life progress because you may feel easily defeated when people don't approve or your decisions. It's time to align your feelings with your actions, and start standing up for yourself. We teach people how we want to be treated. It is our responsibility to make sure that our dignity is not compromised.

How people perceive it:

There are two types of people I see here: the ones that notice your feelings of inferiority and inadequacy, and those who notice and take advantage of it. Unfortunately, your upbringing most likely perpetuated this dynamic of you being conditioned to look for authority figures in life, instead of learning how to listen to your own authoritative inner voice. And so, there have been those you've encountered along the way who really capitalized on this. But for those who notice — and actually cares about this — they do feel sad and solemn towards your lack of faith in your own capabilities. It wouldn't be a surprise if you've encountered those who tried to give you a pep-talk and a confidence boost every now and then; because they see your strong potential and abilities. They want to see you flourish into the person you were meant to become all this time. They want to see you grow into your skin, and be very confident with yourself because this is the only way to eliminate people who want to keep you inferior forever.

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tainted-wine · 5 years ago

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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

5K notes · View notes

neoculturetravesty · 4 years ago

Text

We met in online class - Part 3

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, fluff, angst, maybe humor???? Warnings: Strong language, drinking Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Happy birthday to Huang Renjun, the boy who lights up the world. Sorry for making him so angsty in this fic. Tried something a bit light for him on this occasion.

You’re embarrassed beyond belief.

You had expected maybe an awkward moment or two. But the look Renjun is wearing on his face as the two of you exit the restaurant is one that makes you queasy. You feel so bad. The poor boy had tried so hard to make this date special; and you’d done everything you could to make it cumbrous. You tried, you really tried to act naturally. But, everything about tonight had made your words get caught in your throat. The fact that he’d chosen your uncle’s restaurant of all places… the fact that he had prepared all that he had… the fact that he looked the way he looked tonight. All of it had you taken aback because you’d never been on a date this nice before. This boy had really put you off your A game.

Still, you didn’t like seeing him wear this expression. You weren’t sure what part had irritated him the most: that you kept fumbling over your words? He’d usually been kind and patient with you, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe his pride had been hurt by how it had ended? Renjun didn’t come across to you as a spiteful person but he had made so much effort on this date. Oh man, maybe he was angry.

To be fair, the poor boy hadn’t said anything since you’d left the table. Perhaps it was in what he didn’t say that you felt most embarrassed. You feel so terribly guilty, but walking out into the fresh air helps you get your act together. You stride ahead and grab his arm. You two needed a moment.

“Renjun, wait. I… I need to explain myself.” you begin but gauge his reaction first.

He turns to you and you can’t read the expression on his mask covered face. He doesn’t say anything, so he’s probably letting you talk. Whilst you can’t read him, you pull your own mask down so he would see you fully and understand what you mean.

“Renjun, I’m so sorry. When you texted the address, I thought about telling you to choose another restaurant. But I didn’t want you to think I was blowing you off or having second thoughts. I just… oh my God, I am so embarrassed and I just…” you take his hand in both of yours because you really want him to feel the sincerity in your words “... I’m so sorry. I just went along because I was really excited to see you… like this… on a date…”

Renjun is looking at the ground, like he’s weighing your words, or thinking about what to say. You wait for a beat, or two or three. But on the fourth beat, you say,

“Tell you what, this date doesn’t have to end like this. I know you didn’t eat at all, and honestly, neither did I. My apartment is just around the corner. Do you maybe wanna come over for some ramyeon?” you look at him, your eyes hopeful. You really don’t want him to be mad at you. Your stomach feels uneasy, and you’re pretty sure the French food had nothing to do with it.

“What, no condoms this time?” he finally looks up to ask and now, his eyes are smiling.

“Huh?” you begin but then your eyes widen as realization hits and suddenly, you’re much too aware of his hand in both of yours. You drop it right away and you’re blushing intensely when you say “No, no condoms this time. I mean actual ramyeon.” you cover your face with your hands because yes, you’re embarrassed, but also, you’re grinning because Renjun is teasing you again and you prefer it way more than his silence.

You hear the sound of his amused laugh and then feel his hands close around both your wrists, gently pulling them down. “I’d like that. Let’s have that ramyeon.” he says with a kind voice.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath till you let it out and give him a relieved smile.

“Great! I’m actually really good at making ramyeon. Don’t be too surprised when all other ramyeons are ruined for you forever.” you say just as the valet brings your car around.

“Honestly, Y/N L/N, after our French cuisine extravaganza, I’m pretty sure I’d thankfully eat sand if you cook it for me well enough.”

You laugh because you’re happy he’s talking again. You get the sudden urge to hug him, because you’re thankful he’s giving this date a second chance. You don’t, though. You’re not sure how he’d react and you didn’t want to ruin the moment when it had only just turned around.

So you choose to hop in the car instead, waiting from him to get in and put his seatbelt on. You pause for a moment after he’s settled in and then you turn to him.

“I, uh… I didn’t bring condoms on that day because like, uh, I was expecting anything or whatever. I just, um, my… my roommate. She put it in my purse as like a joke.” you feel so stupid having to explain it but you feel like you need to because ugh, ugh, ugh.

Renjun is laughing silently and you get the feeling that this time he’s laughing at you.

“I mean, it was pretty forward for a first date. And you know, I’m not that kinda guy.” He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head, still laughing.

“Ughhh.” you bury your face into the steering wheel but it only makes your head honk the horn, which makes you jump.

“Hey…” Renjun reaches out his arm to touch your shoulder and you turn to peak at him, an embarrassed grin on your face. “I’m only kidding. But yes, the quality of my jokes is really going down because now I’m fully starving.”

“Say no more, Huang Renjun.” you say and put the car into drive.

It’s only a five-minute ride and you’re glad for it, because you really, really want to turn this day around. You just couldn’t have your first proper date end on such a sour note. You pull into your building’s garage and silently hope that you had everything you needed to make the perfect ramyeon. With Yeri stress-eating her way to her thesis, your stock would run out way earlier than either of you expected. If that were the case, you would have to very sneakily order some in; you mentally start to calculate how long it would take the grocery app to get you your stuff, given the time of day.

In your planning, you haven’t noticed that the two of you are already in the elevator and it’s Renjun’s voice that brings you back to Earth.

“You live in the penthouse?” he asks.

“Yeah. It was the only place they had available at that time. Super inconvenient. It was hell trying to move all our stuff all the way to the top.” you try to make small talk because the elevator seems to be going on and on. Why did you have to live so far up top?

“Okay, here we are!” you say as you lead Renjun down the hallway and unlock your door. “Um… do you mind if I like… spray you down? My roommate is kinda really particular about having people in the apartment these days…” you ask apologetically.

“Oh, no, absolutely. Do what you have to do.” Renjun says, a bit absentmindedly. His eyes seem to be going past you and towards your living room. You pray to the heavens that it wasn’t a big mess. You had modelled way too many outfits for Yeri before you had left the house.

“Okay, here you go.” you hand Renjun a pair of lounge shoes as he pulls his mask down. “Close your eyes, please. Yeri made this concoction with Lysol and sanitizer and God knows what else.”

Renjun closes his eyes obediently and stands in a T-pose and you can’t help but smile. By the time you’re spraying him, you’re fully giggling.

He giggles back and peaks with one eye open “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. You’re just. You look so cute, Huang Renjun!” you almost squeal and fuck, you can’t stop giggling.

“Heyyy!” he groans and grabs the spray bottle from you and aims it at you. You shield your face with the backs of your hands while Renjun attacks you. “I’m not cute, okay? You’re the one that’s cute.”

“Okay, that’s enough! I think I’m as sanitized as I will ever be.” you squeal and start to move away but Renjun grabs your waist and sprays you some more. He’s basically drenching you to death, and it’s just as well, because your breath has once again been caught in your throat. He is close to you, too close. Suddenly, your heart is thumping in your chest and you wonder if he can hear it.

He notices your stillness, looks at you and pauses. Like he can feel the electricity in the air. Everything stills and your throat is dry, because your freaking breath won’t let out. You think you’ve forgotten to breathe; almost as if the Lysol is creeping down your airways. He’s holding your gaze and you can swear he’s moving closer. But your stupid throat won’t stop bothering you.

All of a sudden, your head turns out of it’s own accord and you’re clearing your throat into the abyss. Renjun straightens up, his hand leaving your waist. Dammit. Maybe it was all that damn Lysol that was choking you, after all.

“Let’s make that ramyeon.” you choke out, turning your back to him and heading in.

“Yep, ramyeon. Lets.” Renjun nods his head like you’ve said the most logical thing in the world. The two of you pretend like nothing even happened.

You lead him into the kitchen. “What would you like to drink? I’ve got soda, beer, soju.” you say as you open your fridge and do a quick inventory.

“I’ll just have a coke.” Renjun says and you nod. You grab a couple of cans and your ice box and set it down for him on the island.

“Have a seat because what you’re about to witness is pure magic.” you tell him as you grab your apron and suit up to impress the boy in front of you. Renjun runs his fingers through his hair and gives you an expectant smile and your brain choses that exact moment to tell you that your crush is at your place. For the very first time. And the two of you are all alone. You turn around before he can see you blush and you get to work.

“Those are big words, Y/N L/N. I hope you won’t be eating them. I’d much rather have you eat the ramyeon with me.” he snarks as he sits on the barstool on the kitchen island, sipping on his coke.

“Oh, I just love the cynics of my cooking. There aren’t many of them left in this world, so it’s nice to meet the survivors.” You mean business, so you’ve already tied up your hair and laid down your pots and pans. All the time you’ve spent watching Masterchef auditions has prepared you for this moment. You’ve put the noodles to boil and are already heating up a sauté pan. You throw in mushrooms and look up to see Renjun studying you in amusement.

“Damn, you’re not playing around.” Renjun says and you could bet money that he almost sounds impressed. “Hey, be careful with that.” his tone is one of worry now as he watches you chop up some more vegetables.

“I’m always careful, Huang Renjun.” you say as you work the chef’s knife across the bok choy, peppers, ginger and tofu. You throw them in the pan one by one, trying not to be too distracted by the fact that your crush was worried about you. “Can you handle a bit of heat?” you hold up the spicy sauce that Yeri’s mom would always bring for you.

“I can handle it.” he cocks an eyebrow and you grin.

“I’ll keep it mild because I don’t wanna take any more food risks today.” you laugh and add some broth to your noodles.

“That’s fair. It smells amazing already so my expectations have really skyrocketed, by the way.” Renjun tells you, licking his lips.

You grin as you set down two bowls. If the boy didn’t like you after this, then he was probably a really tough cookie to crack. “Honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’.” You mimic as you ladle in the broth over the noodles and start arranging your vegetables in the bowls. You slice your boiled eggs and mutter “Success!” as they come out to be the exact texture you were looking for. You top everything with some sesame oil and sesame seeds. You step back to look at your work. It looked like the most Instagramable bowl of noodles you’d ever created, if you said so yourself.

You lay some side dishes on the counter then proudly set your creation before the artist. If anyone knew how to appreciate aesthetics, it was probably him. You look up at him, expectant. Waiting for your result.

“Whoa.” is all he says, almost like he’s taken aback.

“I think this might be my magnum opus.” you say, nodding seriously as you sit on the barstool next to him.

“This looks like it came straight from an anime.” Renjun makes an impressed face and picks up his chopsticks. He takes a bite and for a moment says nothing. “Oh my God.” he turns to you.

“Oh my God?”

“Y/N L/N. You’re gonna have to marry me now. There is no other way around it.” he says deadpan.

You grin and punch the air with both fists like you’ve won a Michelin star, not just the Masterchef audition. “Huang Renjun, I don’t mess about with ramyeon.” You say and begin to eat. Your eyes close as you let out a satisfied moan because yep--you’ve really done well. To be fair, there was a lot riding on it. You had to perform well today, of all days.

You both eat comfortably and deeply, a striking contrast to how you’d eaten at the French restaurant. Renjun gives you more compliments as he eats and you keep grinning like an idiot, heart exploding with joy. At one point, you have to tell yourself to chill out, to not let a boy’s compliments make you feel so validated. But how could you not be on cloud nine when the boy in question is cute as fuck and you’ve just cooked for him for the very first time? So you just smile wide at him and hope he can’t see the hearts in your eyes or the victory in your attitude that you’ve really managed to turn this around. All the awkwardness from earlier seemed to have evaporated.

“Okay, Y/N L/N. You were right. This is the best ramyeon I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.” he admits and you’re way too happy to see that he’s basically licked his bowl clean.

“Oh man, Huang Renjun. I thought you were a survivor. But here you are, another cynic that I’ve managed to convert.” you say proudly.

“Yes. Here I am.” he smiles at you.

And there it is again. The electricity in the air. Because Renjun is holding your gaze and once again, you become much too aware of his proximity. Were your bar stools always this close? Maybe you had to talk to Yeri about remodeling this area. You’re turning toward him and he’s sliding off the stool, his eyes never leaving yours. He comes closer and your heart thumps against your ribcage again. Your mind is clouded by his perfume because he’s so close that your hands find home on his shoulders. You forget to think for a moment; your blood throbbing hot in your ears as he leans in.

“I’m hooome!”

The two of you jump, your heads turning in the direction of the loud voice. You turn back to look at each other, then you jump away from one another, almost as if the spell has been broken and you’ve realized how close you were and how dumb an idea this was.

You lament your luck. You can’t believe you’ve been cockblocked out of your first kiss with Renjun by your stupid roommate.

It was almost a week later that you heard from Renjun again. Not that you hadn’t really talked in between. If sending one another memes over Instagram counted as meaningful communication, then yes, you’d been in contact. But then a couple of days ago, he had texted you more than a full sentence:

“Hey! Remember the 127 party Donghyuck (Haechan) talked about? It’s this Friday. Do you maybe wanna go with me? If you don’t want to hang out with frat boys on your Friday night, I totally understand! We could hang out some other time.”

Sometimes, you really wondered if you had any sort of an inkling of pride within you at all, because you didn’t even wait another second to reply:

“You know I wouldn’t miss a single chance to hang out with Haechan. Text me the address and I’ll be there! (Also, what sort of a party is this? I don’t want to be underdressed like last time hehe.)”

Turned out the 127s were hosting some sort of an outdoor Sports Day, except with drinks a plenty so everyone would be knackered as they played. The setup reminded you of every ill-fated Sports Days you’d ever been to at school, except with a lot more booze than you remembered. The two of you had barely walked into the grounds when Haechan jumped in to greet you with the same unrestrained energy.

“My friends! The Coronial lovers! Mr. Huang Renjun!” Haechan had leaned in to kiss Renjun on the cheek but he had really skillfully dodged it, like he had predicted what he would do. “Ms. Y/N L/N.” your reflexes hadn’t been quite as quick as Renjun’s because you had ended up with a mask covered smooth on your cheek. It made you cringe and laugh at the same time. Haechan had very animatedly told you of all the games they had planned for today and had pushed you in, forcing you to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

Renjun was currently being swarmed by the group of rowdy boys and you were watching with an amused expression on your face.

“Embarrassing. Some people should just not be let out in public.” you hear a voice just above your shoulder. You turn around and chuckle.

“Hendery. Didn’t think you were the kind to kick it with the 127s.” you chuckle.

“Neither did I. They’re cool I guess. I like Haechan. More people need to be as shameless as him.” he comments, knitting his brows together.

You smile wide. “I like him, too. He really keeps everyone together, doesn’t he?” you muse as you watch the boy work the room (or playground), currently attacking everyone with more cheek kisses. “Hey, who’s that boy over there? The one in the blue-ish shirt?”

“That’s Kim Jungwoo. He graduated a couple of years ago but he keeps coming to these parties.” Hendery says, scrunching his nose.

You laugh and then let out a long sigh. “I don’t blame him. When I start thinking about life after graduation, it makes me want to fail my courses just so I could repeat them. The future is scary.”

He nods knowingly, then says, “Hey, speaking of which. I heard we’re going to be partners in the SMK Trainee Drive.”

Suddenly, you feel your belly do a summersault. Whenever your college hosted a recruitment drive, SMK was always the hardest to get in, especially for business majors. Not only was it super competitive, but people dreamed of getting chosen because it almost always guaranteed a job once you had graduated.

You blow air from your mouth and square your shoulders. “Wong Hendery. Let’s show them how it’s done.” you hold your hand up to give him a high five but he grips your fist with his and puts his game face on.

“We’re going to crush the competition.” He declares and you feel reassured. You felt way more driven with a partner than working solo, anyway.

“Hendery, don’t waste all your arm energy now, save it for the wrestling match!” Haechan interrupts, thumping him on the back. “Go find your team, we’re about to start! 00 liners, this way!” he says, throwing an arm around you and walking to your team. You look over your shoulder and give Hendery a thumbs up.

You join the 00 liners and look at Renjun amongst them. He looks the most uninhibited you’ve ever seen him. He’s smiling without concern and seems to be enjoying himself. You get the feeling that he’s surrounded by friends he trusts and it fills you with warmth. That boy deserved the world as far as you were concerned.

“Okay, team. Here we are. The moment of truth. We can sit around like a bunch of shmucks or we can leave this ground knowing that we owned this fucking school! So what are we gonna do?” he yells like a sports coach.

“We’re gonna stop being embarrassing.” Lee Jeno gives Haechan a death smile and Haechan thumps his chest.

“That’s right brother! Okay, first order of business. Everybody take a shot! No one enters the battlefield sober!” He gives his commander’s speech and passes around bottles of something. You’re not sure what it is but it smells strong.

“Down on 3. 1, 2, 3!” he yells and without thinking, you down whatever you’d been handed. You groan out as it hits and look up to realize that your groans are harmonizing with the others.

“Ohhhh yes! Now we’re ready! Okay, second order of business. We need an entrance song. I was thinking, Girl’s Generation…” Haechan goes on and you see that it has made Renjun laugh. You laugh along as Haechan makes the team learn the cheesiest dance moves. A boy in a headband you’ve never met seems to be fully into it; a few girls seem to be tagging along amused. Na Jaemin looks like he’s humoring his friends at best.

“Okay! Let’s get ittttt!” Haechan drags the last part and leads the charge towards the center of the ground for an arm wrestling battle. There is excitement in the air now, and you have a feeling that it has less to do with the match itself and more to do with whatever liquid courage Haechan had injected in everybody’s veins. You find yourself walking at pace with Na Jaemin.

“You doing alright there, buddy?” you ask him because the poor boy looks like he was once again dragged out here.

He gives you a kind smile “Yep. I’m all good.”

“Not really your scene, huh?” you ask empathetically.

“I mean, I’d much rather stay indoors but Jeno said I needed some fresh air. Renjun was going to stay in with me but he betrayed me last minute by deciding to be social.” He notes, throwing some kind of a look your way.

You give him an apologetic grimace. “Oh man, I’m sorry for ruining your plans. But where’s your girlfriend? Why didn’t you invite her?”

“She’s quarantining.” he tells you patiently.

“Oh no! Is she okay?” you look at him, almost stopping in your tracks.

“She says she’s mostly all the way okay now, though she still doesn’t have her sense of smell back. But I guess any day now.” he nods, looking ahead.

You look at this profile and your heart goes out to him. “Hey, I know of a place that’s making these really cute care packages for people that have been affected. They’ve got a super safe system of delivery as well. I can hook you up if you like. They’ve got the cutest things for you to choose from.”

He looks at you and gives you a genuine smile. “That would be great. She’s probably tired of all the soup I’ve been leaving at her doorstep.”

You give him a fond look. “Okay, cool. I’ll help you put it together and everything.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” he says before you are interrupted by a loud cheer because the first match has begun and it’s between the boy with the headband and someone else you don’t recognize. The match doesn’t last a full two seconds before the boy with the headband is defeated. Haechan plays up looking crestfallen and “lunges” at the opponent but is playfully stopped by Renjun and the defeated boy. You throw your head back and laugh out loud. You were maybe enjoying these dramatic antics a little too much, but also, it was nice to see Renjun letting loose like that.

Haechan is up next and is defeated just as quickly and you soon realize your team stood no chance. A couple more boys from your team go next and it’s a bloodbath. No matter how much you cheer your teammates on, they’re dropping like flies. By the time Na Jaemin walks up to the stand, you’ve all pretty much accepted your fate.

But then. Jaemin’s arm slowly starts crossing over the midline and then the 00 liners are on their toes jumping up and down, cheering on top of their lungs and before you know it, Jaemin has earned you guys your first victory.

“Go Nana!” you hear people scream followed by a chanting of “Superstar! Superstar!”

You cheer along and watch as Jaemin-the-dark-horse defeats two more opponents in a row. And when he earns yet another victory, the 00 liners are going berserk, with Haechan yelling “Victory shots!” making you guys chug down whatever drinks you’re holding. But that becomes your undoing because Jaemin finally loses to Lee Mark, a senior boy.

A few girls from each team have their go and there’s an uproar when it’s pointed out that the boys were letting them win. It’s a loud, drunken commotion now and you don’t realize it is Rejun’s turn till Haechan points it out for you and much to your amusement, he’s up against Hendery.

“Go Renjun! I believe in you!” you cheer at him as he takes his place.

“Go Injuniee!” Haechan yells and you all watch for a moment with bated breath; but as soon as the match begins, you’re all doubling over, laughing. Renjun is no match for Hendery and he knows it, which is why he’s taken the opportunity to turn this into a comedy show. You laugh as Renjun hangs onto Hendery’s arm and wiggles his legs animatedly. But Hendery holds his ground well and let’s Renjun put on a show for everyone before he puts some girth in his hold and flattens Renjun out in one. Renjun walks back defeated and you welcome him back just as dramatically, like he’s a soldier returning from war.

“You did well, Injunie.” you put an arm around him and tell him and he grins at you before he is swarmed by the rest of your team. Your opponents are declared the winners but you guys do your Girl’s Generation dance anyway and take more victory shots.

You guys have no idea how you make it through the rest of the day because by the time you’re on your last game (a strange relay race that involves complicated costumes and eating donuts hanging from strings), you’re stumbling and being rowdier than usual. You’re yelling at one another, trying to get Yangyang (as you’ve learnt is the name of the boy in the headband) in his many legged costume but it is more complicated than usual because none of you are in your right mind. You, in fact, don’t remember the last time you got this drunk... Yeri would be proud.

There is more commotion and many more arguments over what the actual finish line is, because by the end, even the self-appointed referees are knackered beyond belief. You don’t know how it happens but all of a sudden, Kim Jungwoo has been declared the winner of tonight, though all the games you played were in teams. But this funny result is agreeable to everyone because Jungwoo is being tossed in the air and being presented with a mini beer keg. Turns out, there wasn’t much that college students wouldn’t celebrate... if you’d put enough drink in them.

You find yourself jumping up and down along with the rest and you don’t realize that you’ve stumbled till Renjun catches you and you’re smiling at him so widely. You’re pretty sure your face is flushed a bright, drunk color because Renjun is looking down at you with an amused smile.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You alright there?” he asks and you loop your arms around his neck till you’re basically hanging onto him.

“I’m having the best time ever, Injunie.” you tell him but your words are coming out all sloshed so you try to make yourself clear. “Best time. Best time. Why does it sound so funny in my mouth? Best time. Best time.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows but his smile keeps growing. “Okay, time to take you home.”

“Nooo, Injunie, but Haechan was going to show me how to make his death cocktail and I have to help Jaemin make a package for his girlfriend and I’ve made a new friend and her name is Lia and I can’t leave now!” you whine at him, grabbing a fistfull of his hoodie. Damn, why do your words keep sloshing around in your mouth like that?

Renjun loops an arm around your back and starts walking you “Okay, you can just take a quick nap at home and then when you come back you can do all of those things, okay?”

You consider his words and realize that your eyes were droopier than usual. “You’re a genius, Huang Renjun. I guess I could take a little, itsy bitsy nap.”

The next thing you know, you’re in the back of a cab, your head resting on Renjun’s shoulder. He feels so nice and warm and you feel so damn comfortable. You cuddle closer to him and turn your head to look at him just a bit. “I’ve got such a bad crush on you, Huang Renjun.” you tell him and you see his head snap in the direction of your voice and you want to keep talking to him but your eyes are closing again.

When you wake up in the morning, you have no recollection of how you got back home but Yeri’s making you her hangover tea and telling you how proud of you she was.

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader (no use of Y/N) Rating: M (will become explicit in later chapters) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining, non-graphic description of wounds Summary: With the ghosts of your own mysterious past close on your heels, you can’t afford to get in the middle of someone else’s fight; however, attraction drives you to make a reckless decision, and you end up swept up in the Mandalorian’s story. Notes: (1) Reader is bisexual. It will probably only come up peripherally, but I wanted to make a note of that. (2) I did my best to keep physical descriptions of the reader out of my writing, but please let me know if something slipped in that isn’t as inclusive as it could be!

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

You felt the weight of the Mandalorian’s gaze before you saw him.

Sitting in the cantina on Nevarro, you were alone in a corner booth—a seat close to the back exit that had a clear view of the front door.

You were halfway through your drink when the hairs on the back of your neck prickled, and you had the overwhelming feeling that you were being watched.

You scanned the cantina and, in your periphery, registered the Mandalorian’s head snap back from your direction to face the man sitting across from him. You hadn’t noticed him enter, but it must have been just moments ago because you surveyed your surroundings every few minutes.

The two men were seated a few tables away. You observed the Mandalorian for a moment, noting his stiff-backed posture and the tension in his shoulders under his battle-worn armor. He could tell you’d caught him staring and that you were watching him.

The man sitting across from the Mandalorian was gesticulating as he spoke. You’d been on Nevarro long enough to recognize him as Greef Karga, local leader of the Guild. You could only see his back, but he was boisterous—a stark contrast to the Mandalorian’s silent stillness—and his voice carried.

Karga was saying something about bounties and currency—no surprise there. Mandalorians were the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy. You didn’t know much about them besides the legends you’d heard as a child, though it was very unclear what was true and what was myth. You’d only ever seen one in person before, and that Mandalorian had been terrifying, threatening.

This Mandalorian, however, was... intriguing? He was, of course, intimidating—in his head-to-toe armor with a long rifle leaned against the table, he was the very picture of a warrior. Any person with sense would be scared of him, and judging by the sidelong glances he was getting from the other patrons, most were.

The very relatable experience of having someone catch you in the act of watching them—as you’d just done to him—however, humanized this Mandalorian. Noting his broad shoulders, you couldn’t help wondering what he looked like under all that heavy metal. You’d heard rumors that some Mandalorians never took off their armor in front of another person. That would be a real shame.

Though you’d have preferred to continue thinking about the man under the armor (and the things you wanted to do with him), a small voice in your head reminded you of the potentially dangerous reality of your situation.

Why was he watching me? He can’t possibly recognize me.

No one had come after you in years. There was likely still a steep bounty on your head, but many of the people who wanted to find you were dead, imprisoned, or deep in hiding. Some were convinced you’d been taken out in a star cruiser explosion (because you almost had been). And, you no longer looked like the photo that was attached to your bounty puck. Your hair was a radically different shade and length. You wore contacts to obscure the real color of your eyes. You always chose high-necked clothing to conceal the identifying scar that slashed an angry line beneath your clavicle.

You kept a low profile, moved often, and assumed a fake identity, but you felt safe enough in your anonymity to come to a planet like Nevarro, a place that was swarming with hunters.

Plus, you reasoned that if the Mandalorian was looking for you for a job, this is probably not how it would have happened. It would have been stealthy and quick, potentially bloody and violent.

No, you didn’t think he was looking for you, which meant he had been looking at you. Out of interest. And that was so, so much better.

You turned your body towards him pointedly to make it more obvious that you were watching him. The slight forward lean of his shoulders told you he registered your movement in his periphery. His helmet stayed trained on Karga, but it was impossible to know exactly where he was looking through the black t-shape of his visor. You would have bet he was looking back at you.

The Mandalorian responded to Karga, pushing some credits back across the table. You could hear the low undercurrent of his modulated voice, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. It looked like they were arguing about the currency of the credits on the table.

As Karga dug in his pocket for something, the Mandalorian turned his helmet slowly back towards you. Throwing caution to the wind, you smiled at him and winked, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. You watched him expectantly, figuring this was when he’d walk over to your table.

Instead, he turned his head back to Karga, responded to something he said, and grabbed the credits off the table. They were clearly finishing up their deal. The Mandalorian slid out of the booth and strapped the long rifle to his back. He started toward the front door.

Maybe you’d read the whole situation wrong. Like you, he was trained to be aware of everyone, everything around him. Perhaps, he’d just been surveying the cantina, not necessarily you.

Feeling slightly disappointed, you finished your drink, dropped some credits on the table, and got up to leave. You were pulling on your jacket when a familiar feeling made you flick your head up. The Mandalorian was standing at the front of the cantina, his dark silhouette framed in the light of the open doorway, visor trained on you.

From where he was standing, he looked you up and down, lowering and raising his helmet to survey your body from top to bottom and back up again—a gesture that could have easily been achieved without moving his entire head in such an obvious way. His penetrating gaze and brazen attention made you shiver.

He waited to see what you would do.

You were tempted to go to him, to see what would happen, but the stubborn part of you wanted him to come to you—and, more importantly, the sensible part of you was worried this was somehow a trap. You made an impulsive choice and decided to prolong the chase...whether that chase would prove to be literal or figurative, you weren’t totally sure.

You smiled slyly at him and turned, slipping out the back door.

***

The second time you crossed paths with the Mandalorian, you saw him before he saw you.

You were walking down Nevarro’s main thoroughfare, a busy street lined with vendors, pushing through the crowd, when you spotted the back of his reflective helmet. A couple weeks had passed since you had seen him in the cantina, and you’d been hoping to see him again, always keeping an eye out for his distinctive profile.

These past two weeks, you’d found your thoughts straying to his image—strong, mysterious, intimidating. He was sexy. There was no getting around it. You’d spent enough time around people in masks and full-body armor to know that it wasn’t just the mystery of the helmet that attracted you to him. There was something about him you couldn’t shake.

It didn’t help that you were bored and lonely here on Nevarro. It was not your favorite planet. It was dry and hot, the surface a mosaic of cracked flows of hardened lava and loose tephra—unwelcoming terrain. It was volcanically active, too, steam pouring from fractures in the hard, black ground. A river of molten lava ran under the city itself. Who would choose to live here?

For you, Nevarro was no more than a stopover—a place to stay for a few months before moving on to the next planet. You could leave any time, easily book passage to a bigger city on a prettier planet, but that shameless part of you that imagined the Mandalorian fucking you in his full armor was bold enough to convince yourself to stick around for a little longer and see if you could run into him again. Why not?

You’d been running for years, denying yourself comfort, companionship, consistency. Couldn’t you indulge just this once?

You had no reason to think the Mandalorian had thought of you for one second after seeing you in the cantina, but you let yourself hope. He didn’t hide the way he looked at you, and he hadn’t pursued you as a quarry when you left the cantina (and what a relief that was), so that meant...he’d flirted with you...right? That was probably how a Mandalorian flirted? Maybe you were stuck in his head the way he was stuck in yours? A girl could dream.

You watched his helmet disappear and reappear as you both weaved through the throngs of people. The Mandalorian had a purposeful gait and an immediate effect on everyone around him: the crowd parted for him as people avoided his path and his gaze. No one wanted to be noticed by a Mandalorian.

Well, almost no one.

The Mandalorian clearly relied on his menacing appearance and the notorious lore associated with his armor to ensure that he was left alone. You, on the other hand, depended on stealth and the ability to disappear in a swarm of people to stay hidden. This meant that while the crowd parted easily for him, you struggled to wend your way through it.

He turned down a side street.

The fact that he’d hounded your thoughts since you first saw him spurred you into recklessness, and you followed. As you turned down the same side street, you saw the edge of his cape disappear into an alley. The further away you moved from the main street, the more you began to question yourself.

This is potentially a bad idea.

This is definitely a bad idea.

Your existence hinged on your ability to stay lost, to be anonymous, to change your appearance, to never be sought out. And here you were, seeking out a bounty hunter.

You’d been slipping into a dangerous false sense of security these past few months—spending more time in each place, neglecting to change your chaincode as often as you should. Just because no one had come for you in a couple years, didn’t mean you were safe. You needed to snap yourself out of this delusional thinking.

But maybe... not yet?

You picked up your pace.

It was just the two of you in a long alleyway, and you were sure he could sense you behind him by the slight turn of his head, but he didn’t stop or turn around. You weren’t being stealthy, only a few long strides behind him. He had to know you were there.

He walked surprisingly quietly, considering his heavy armor and determined stride. The loudest sound he made was his cape whipping around his calves. His long rifle was strapped to his back, and he was carrying a camtono in his left hand.

He quickly slipped down another shadowy passageway that you hadn’t noticed. You turned to follow, about to say something, but the passage was deserted. You walked to the end and back, checking to see if he’d turned again, but there was no trace of him. No doorways led off the passage. The only things in the alley were a stack of abandoned wooden pallets and a grate that emitted hot steam. He must have given you the slip on purpose, taken some secret route to evade the stranger on his tail.

Understandable. It’s what you would have done too. I probably should have come up with a better plan than just pursuing him.

Well, fuck.

You were more disappointed than you cared to admit, but you turned and headed back to the apartment you were renting a few blocks away. You were slightly embarrassed by how impulsive you’d just been. You wouldn’t have felt so abashed if it had paid off, but it hadn’t.

You’d overstayed your time on Nevarro. Your self-imposed limit was two months per location, and you’d been here two and a half. You couldn’t push it any more, especially for such a ridiculous reason. It was time to go.

***

The third time you encountered the Mandalorian, neither of you saw the other coming.

You packed up your things, fitting everything you needed in one backpack. You purchased more food and let the hours of the afternoon drag on, waiting for the sun to sink low in the sky before heading out.

When it was evening, you slipped your blaster into the holster at the small of your back. You slid a vibroblade into the sheath at your hip and strapped a much smaller one to your calf where it was concealed under your pants. As you slung your bag over your shoulder and scanned your small space to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything, noise erupted outside—an explosion, not far away.

There were enough ex-Imperials and bounty hunters on Nevarro that street fights and loud commotions were commonplace. You slipped out your front door, figuring you could avoid the action by slinking through the alleyways. You knew the layout of the city fairly well by now.

You crept through the dim streets. You guessed that the fighting was a couple blocks to your left based on the muffled sounds of intermittent blaster fire. You made your way toward the cantina where you knew a few regulars who would have transpo connections, but you only made it a couple blocks from your apartment before you ran into trouble.

Suddenly, shouts echoed down the street behind you. You made a hasty left turn, looking back to see if anyone was following as you broke into a run. With your head turned, you didn’t see the Mandalorian backing his way down the street toward you. You collided painfully with his back and crumpled to the ground next to him. He, mostly unfazed, made a grunting sound and snapped his head to the side to see who’d hit him. He kept his body and his blaster trained forward at two shadowy figures that were stalking towards him, but he pointed his left vambrace down at you, prepared to neutralize you if needed.

He cocked his head at you as if trying to assess whether or not you were a threat. Before you could think of anything to say, blaster fire screamed down the alley toward both of you. You grabbed your own blaster and sprang to your feet.

Noting the way you trained your blaster away from him, the Mandalorian redirected his attention back to the oncoming assailants. As more blaster fire streaked toward you, he jumped in front of you to shield your body with his and fired back down the alley.

I guess he decided I’m not a threat.

The figures drew nearer—one, a hulking man, and the other, a wiry woman with blue hair... both bounty hunters. They slunk around stray crates and garbage bins, making it difficult for either of you to land a direct hit.

The Mandalorian’s beskar armor lived up to the crazy stories you’d heard. Blaster fire pinged off of it without leaving a mark. Standing so close behind him, you noticed that his armor was different than what he’d worn just earlier that day. His old armor, painted a rusty reddish-brown, had been mismatched and battered. This was new, pristine, unpainted—a stunning reflective silver.

It was the same Mandalorian though. That you were sure of.

You kept most of your body behind his protective stance, just peaking your head and arm out periodically to take a shot. You leaned around him again to fire, and you hit the woman in the thigh while she was momentarily exposed. She grunted in pain and paused her advance.

You ducked back behind the Mandalorian. You were surprised and confused by the way the he was treating you like a partner, protecting you instinctually. You hadn’t exchanged so much as a word yet.

Weren’t Mandalorians supposed to be merciless, violent bounty hunters? Why was he trusting you? For that matter, why were you trusting him? It sounded absurd to think that he just felt trustworthy.

The next time you poked your head out, you noticed that the man had stopped shooting and was watching you intently from where he was hiding behind a stack of boxes. He made eye contact with you and held it, and you saw recognition dawn on his face. He pointed at you, turning to the woman to yell something in a language you didn’t recognize, and then charged forward, blaster drawn. His mouth formed your name, your real name, as he thundered towards you. You froze where you stood, partially exposed.

Fuck. He recognized me so easily. How?

Hot blaster fire zinged past your ear. The Mandalorian lurched forward and fell to one knee in a controlled movement as fire erupted from his vambrace. His quick thinking snapped you out of your panic, but your heart thundered as you processed how close you’d come to getting shot.

As the man’s clothes caught fire and he began to flail in panic, you came back to your senses and shot him in the chest.

The female bounty hunter, who was still several paces behind the man, disappeared down an alley behind her, just as you resumed shooting in her direction.

It won’t be long before word spreads that I’m alive on Nevarro. FUCK.

The footfalls of the woman faded quickly, and you knew she was too far ahead to catch.

You and the Mandalorian were left alone in the alley. Things were quiet for a moment.

You turned to look at each other. It was then that you noticed the bundle tucked tightly in the crook of his right arm, the same arm that held his blaster. He shuffled the bundle to his left arm carefully... tenderly?

He tilted his helmet slightly, starting to say something just as you did the same. Before either of you could form a sentence, several more figures rounded the corner behind you.

“Come on,” you yelled, grabbing his arm to drag him forward. For the moment, the two of you were in this together. It was better than being caught in this fray alone. You figured you’d be able to slip away from the action soon enough.

As you ran through the streets, you both noted the echoing footsteps picking up behind you at each juncture. More and more people—bounty hunters—were joining the pursuit. It seemed like every bounty hunter in Nevarro was being drawn to the Mandalorian.

What did he do to bring this much heat down on himself? I need to lose him.

You considered turning down every street or alley you passed, but at least one hunter blocked each one. Every doorway was shut tight. The hunters were right on your heels. You kept running, the Mandalorian pounding along behind you, until you reached the main street, emerging near the archway that marked the entrance to town. Beyond the archway, the flat expanse of Nevarro stretched out before you; a silver ship, not far ahead, was the only thing that broke up the uniform landscape.

You both stopped abruptly in the middle of the street, as at least twenty bounty hunters closed in around you, each with a blinking fob in their hand. You were trapped. The pinging chorus of the fobs was enough to rip you back to a not-so-distant time when that sound was a constant refrain in your nightmares. But even at the height of the Empire’s search for you, you’d never had this many people on your tail.

Up until this moment, you hadn’t been too worried about making a getaway. You knew you would get out of this. You’d been in worse situations. But now? Blood rushed in your ears, and your adrenaline spiked. You were cornered, outnumbered, and somehow in the middle of a fight that had nothing to do with you. You were surrounded by bounty hunters, and one had already recognized you. You’d spent years disappearing and here you were, back in the thick of it because you turned down the wrong alley at the wrong time.

You glanced at the Mandalorian and tried to formulate an escape plan—or at least a way put some distance between you and him.

He surveyed the scene, seemingly calm in his blank mask of beskar, and began to walk towards the archway, as even more bounty hunters appeared. Not having come up with any better alternatives yet, you followed him.

The Mandalorian stopped short when Greef Karga sauntered out from the shadows to block your path forward through the archway.

“Welcome back, Mando!” Karga’s voice, the voice that had seemed jovial in the cantina weeks ago, sounded threatening as it rang through the street. “Now, put the package down.” He rested a hand on his hip, pushing back his cape to expose his blaster.

The bundle must be valuable. You wondered briefly what the Mandalorian had wrapped so carefully under his arm. A rare material like kyber? Something unstable like rhydonium? A set of holodisks with important intel?

The Mandalorian mirrored Karga’s movement, hovering his hand over his own blaster. “Step aside. I’m going to my ship,” he replied calmly. He sounded awfully certain considering the circumstances. Your eyes flicked back to the silver ship, an old Razor Crest, that sat just beyond the archway.

Karga chuckled. “You put the bounty down and perhaps I’ll let you pass.”

“The kid’s coming with me.”

KID?

“If you truly care about the kid, then you’ll put it on the speeder,” Karga said, pointing to a speeder parked in front of the building on your right, where a droid sat in the pilot’s seat. The droid let out a series of cheerful beeps, indicating its readiness.

“How do I know I can trust you?” asked the Mandalorian.

How did he know he could trust me? This guy seems to play fast and loose with trust.

Karga scoffed, “Because I’m your only hope.”

Shit.

Any second, this fight was going to turn into an every-person-for-themself situation. You and the Mandalorian had helped each other thus far because it had been convenient, but now that you were trapped, you knew this precarious alliance you’d formed out of necessity was about to fracture. You hadn’t missed the way he said I and me, not we and us. You weren’t part of his equation, and you couldn’t blame him—of course, you were also going to prioritize your own safety over that of a literal stranger.

You surveyed the street, looking for the least obstructed escape route. You hoped you could run fast enough once this tense moment passed and the fight started in earnest.

The Mandalorian stepped back into you suddenly, taking the opportunity to whisper urgently, “Jump in when I say go.”

You were stunned—so stunned that you followed him without thinking as he walked over to the speeder.

For the first time, the Mandalorian looked down at the bundle in his arms. You gasped when you saw that it was in fact a sleeping child—a tiny green infant. He took a moment to watch the baby before glancing at you briefly. He looked back down at the child and without any warning, he breathed, “NOW.”

You dove head first onto the speeder as he raised his blaster and shot a hunter who was right behind where you had just been standing. From the outside, you imagined that it looked like the two of you were partners—the way you moved together, coordinated and seamless.

You scrambled back and pushed crates out of the way, staying down on your stomach, as the Mandalorian flung himself over the side of the speeder and landed next to you. Blaster fire screeched all around you as the hunters reacted in unison.

You both stayed prone on the floor of the speeder, reaching only your blasters up to return the fire that was raining down on you. The Mandalorian rolled over to carefully place the kid down before yelling at the droid at the front of the speeder.

“DRIVE!”

When the droid shook its head in refusal, the Mandalorian demanded again, holding up his blaster threateningly. The droid acquiesced, and the speeder lurched forward. You grabbed the child and hugged them to your chest as the crates shifted around you.

You made it almost all the way to the archway—you and the Mandalorian taking out several of the bounty hunters as you went—before someone had the sense to shoot the pilot droid. The speeder crashed to a halt in a rain of sparks. Fire ceased and a tense quiet fell.

The Mandalorian edged toward you on his elbows. You could hear the bounty hunters closing in around you, the crunch of their boots ominous. You curled your body protectively over the child.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “What now?” You looked into the black t of his visor, wishing you could see his eyes.

He nodded as if that was a sufficient answer to your question and worked his way toward the edge of the speeder. Slowly, silently, he pulled his long rifle from his side and eased it between two crates, pointing it at a hunter on the roof of the closest building. You heard the sound of the rifle powering up and its screeching discharge as it vaporized the hunter. And then another. And another. The Mandalorian’s reload was lightening fast. You took the chance during the ensuing chaos to scoot to the edge of the speeder and take aim at a hunter with your blaster. The remaining hunters scurried away, taking shelter behind walls, doorways, whatever they could find.

The Mandalorian paused, and for a tense moment, nothing happened. The threat of the Amban Rifle was enough to create another temporary ceasefire.

“That’s one impressive weapon,” bellowed Karga. You couldn’t see him from where you lay.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna walk to my ship with the kid, and you’re gonna let that happen,” the Mandalorian stated authoritatively.

We.

“No, how about this? We take the kid, and if you try and stop us, we kill you both and then strip your body for parts,” Karga spat back.

You could feel the hunters starting to come out of hiding all around you. The subtle rasp of tephra under foot gave them away again. You looked behind you and saw that one hooded hunter was edging closer to the speeder. The Mandalorian had his back to the hunter, as he faced Karga. You trained your blaster on the approaching hunter, ready to fire. Before you could pull the trigger, the Mandalorian kicked the canister at his feet, knocking the hunter over, and sat up to stun him with the rifle.

Apparently, he had been aware of the man the whole time. His peripheral vision must be largely obstructed in his helmet. How is he so acutely aware of everything around him?

Everyone opened fire once again.

Over the sound of blaster fire, you heard Karga yell, “Don’t hit the target!”

The Mandalorian rose to his knees, leaned over some crates, and activated his vambrace so a sudden burst of flames cleared out the hunters that were closest to the speeder. You took out two more with your blaster while they were distracted by the flames.

The Mandalorian grunted in frustration as the fire streaming from his wrist sputtered out. Then, he grunted and doubled over in pain when blaster fire hit him in the side, where he wasn’t protected by his armor.

He clutched his side and ducked back down to crawl his way over to you, gently pulling on your arm until you released the child, so he could look at their face. The child cooed and opened two huge, watery eyes.

You looked away, feeling like you were encroaching on a private moment.

Is this his kid? Who is after a child? What is the story here?

You leaned away and fired several more shots, injuring another hunter.

Then you heard it. A streaming projectile took out one of the hunters on a nearby roof. As the hunter screamed and fell to the ground, several figures in Mandalorian armor, powered by jetpacks with blasters in hand, rose up from behind the row of buildings lining the street. There had to be at least a dozen of them—maybe more. It was hard to tell in the chaos. They seemed to be everywhere. They took out hunter after hunter as they slowly lowered themselves to the ground and sparks rained down around you.

You both sat up to watch.

A particularly huge Mandalorian in blue armor with a large repeating blaster touched down next to the speeder and bellowed, “Get out of here! We’ll hold them off!”

“You’re going to have to relocate the covert,” responded the Mandalorian, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

“This is the way,” replied the huge blue Mandalorian, as he continued to fire at the bounty hunters.

“This is the way,” agreed the Mandalorian next to you.

In one fluid movement, he strapped his rifle to his back. You sheathed your blaster as he thrust the kid back into your arms, and he grabbed your free hand, hauling you to your feet as he stood. You jumped from the speeder together. He pulled you along behind him, continuing to shield your body with his as much as possible. The juxtaposition of the way he held your hand and how he was brutally taking out hunter after hunter with his blaster was jarring.

A blaster shot grazed your thigh as you ran, and you swore at the stinging pain, doubling over slightly without loosening your grip on the child. The Mandalorian turned his head but didn’t stop pulling you forward. You faltered for a moment but gritted your teeth and sped up to sprint behind him, leaving the chaos in your wake as you crossed under the archway. You made it the short distance to his ship, where the ramp was already lowered.

You followed him up the ramp. He shoved his blaster into the holster on his belt and started forward into the ship.

The idea of being trapped with this strange Mandalorian was absurd, but you didn’t have much of a choice. If you stayed on Nevarro, the remaining bounty hunters would tear the city apart to find you. This was the fastest way to get off world: a calculated risk.

You sensed movement behind you before you heard Karga’s voice.

“Hold it, Mando.”

You both spun around to face him. Karga had a blaster trained on you and the kid in your arms.

“I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the code,” he spat.

The Mandalorian was silent as he assessed his options. Silent was clearly his default state. He was used to hiding behind the intimidating mask of his armor.

You were trying to guess how good Karga’s reflexes were and if you could grab your blaster from where you’d resheathed it at your back fast enough. As you thought it out, the Mandalorian tipped his head subtly to his left at what looked like a carbonite chamber. Before you or Karga could register his plan, he shot a metal cord from his vambrace, hitting the button to activate the chamber and filling the hull with freezing mist.

In the gloom, the Mandalorian grabbed you roughly and pushed you out of the way. Karga shot blindly. You whipped out your blaster and fired back, knowing exactly where he had been standing. You heard him grunt and fall backwards off the ship with a thud.

The Mandalorian made quick work of shutting the ramp, deactivating the hissing carbonite chamber, and initiating the takeoff protocol from a control panel on the wall.

You slumped onto a nearby crate, exhausted, as the ship lifted off the ground. You let your backpack slide off your shoulders onto the floor next to you. Still holding the baby to your chest protectively, you loosened your arms to study their sweet sleeping face.

His face? Her face? Who is this child?

Wordlessly, the Mandalorian stomped forward and snatched the kid from your arms. You looked up in surprise as he disappeared up the ladder next to you. He was gone for a few moments before the ship jolted as it left Nevarro’s atmosphere and jumped into hyperspace.

You rested your head on the cool wall behind you, trying to catch your breath. You let your eyelids slip shut for a minute—until you opened your eyes at the loud thud of the Mandalorian jumping back down into the hull, ignoring the ladder all together. He walked purposefully towards what looked like a storage bay, set the sleeping child down inside, and closed the door with a snap. He turned slowly to face you.

***

Chapter 2

#my writing #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mandalorian fanfic #mature #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian reader insert #tempered glass

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alpalpym · 3 years ago

Text

Keep me calm chapter 1

A/N: Mentions of violence, hints at anxiety and anger issues. Don’t interact if you’re not 18+

Description: You're a mutant running away from your second family, the X-men. You meet Natasha under not-so-great circumstances, but she'll prove herself to be trustworthy.

(Cross posted on AO3. Check link in bio!)

You were absolutely furious as you gave the legs of the interrogation table another kick, chuckling as it creaked and heaved under strain.

Anger wasn't unusual for you, a trait Professor X had despised. But he had never liked you to begin with.

It felt like hours since the guards put her in here, and with nothing to do, you had resorted to wrecking the place. Hopefully, someone would come in and tell you to stop; you were desperate for some interaction at this point. With your constant kicking and trashing, the special cuffs around your wrists had started to chafe the sensitive skin underneath. You bit back a wince as you shouted at the top of your lungs.

"Can somebody tell me what the hell I'm doing here, for god's sake!" Huffing when you got no reply, you kicked the table again, sending it hurling into the opposite wall.

"Can you stop breaking our furniture," a feminine voice grumbled.

You gasped at the approaching woman. A true sight for sore eyes with her lush red curly hair and an incredibly tight tactical suit. How were you supposed to keep a straight face with that?

You were an observant girl, quickly noticing minor cuts and some dried up blood coating the woman's pale skin, but you kept quiet as she suddenly came very close. Her hands came to rest at either side of your chair, effectively caging you in before she spoke in a low tone.

"You need to behave while I'm in here."

You snorted. As if you'd follow up on that demand after being plucked off the streets and locked away. Although, you couldn't deny that the red-head ordering you around left you feeling all fluttery inside.

"Your name is (y/n), current resident at the Xavier institute here in New York," she sighed, "you have quite the record on you kid."

"I'm not a kid," you spat.

The woman just quirked her brow before resuming. "You can call me Natash—."

"I know who you are."

"You need to stop interrupting me."

Another command. Your ears were burning, and your skin felt itchy at the tone of Natasha's voice. You've never been this susceptible to a single person in your life, not your parents, not the people from CPS, and especially not Professor X. You fidgeted with the fabric of your jeans, trying to ground yourself from the haze falling over you. “Probably the lack of food,” you thought.

"You left your parental house at thirteen, only having been taken in by CPS three years later. What happened within that time?" Natasha had an aura around her that seemed to command respect, and all without ever raising her voice. You appreciated that about her.

"I just roamed around," you mumbled, wanting to steer the woman away from the topic.

Natasha nodded, scribbling down in a small notebook before her green eyes pierced straight through you again. "And how did Xavier track you down?

You clenched your jaw, the memory a painful one as you tried to recall what had happened to you. All you could remember were snippets, like Professor X's hard eyes as he sat across from you at his desk. Then another image of you strapped on a hospital bed as a sharp needle pierced your neck before pain blinded your vision.

"I don't know."

"You're not giving me enough info here, kid."

You were racking your brain. For something, anything, to give Natasha just so she would back off. But as much as you tried, there were no memories of exactly how Professor X had gotten to you. Just a ton of feelings, the intensity of it all making you feel like you were going to throw up.

You were hot, the room sweltering. You doubled over, hands still cuffed as you fought against the wave of nausea hitting the back of your throat. Banging your still cuffed hands against the tabletop, you let out a low whine.

"Nat—" You couldn't speak. Why was your throat so tight? It was all so hard. You leaned back against your seat, trying to keep your racing heart under control.

The woman quickly got to your side, her hands hovering over yours hesitantly.

"I don't know anything. Please don't make me talk. Please, please," you cried. Pressing your forehead against a warm shoulder, the fabric underneath you dampened with tears making you want to pull away. But Natasha was soft, so soft, as she gently guided you closer against her. Unbothered by your sudden vulnerability. Natasha didn't mind; you were sure of it.

Loud banging against the door quickly pulled Natasha off you in an instant, and you whined a pathetic whine from the back of your throat in objection.

"What's this Romanoff? We said interrogate, not cuddle!"

A slightly balding man with crooked eyes and an off-putting smile stood at the threshold. His arms were spread, holding either side of the door frame as he nonchalantly swayed back and forth on his feet.

"Shut it, Coulson."

At least Natasha was sticking up for you. But the sudden intrusion cleared your head enough for you to realize how much you'd slipped with the woman. How vulnerable you'd been. Weak.

You pushed the red-head off of you, surprising her as she looked at you in bewilderment. "I refuse to speak to any more of you. Let me go."

It was perfectly within your right; you knew that much. Not even Shield had the jurisdiction to force you into talking. And you wanted to leave. Right now.

"We can't exactly do that," Coulson said. He stalked further into the room, the authority practically beaming off of him as he planted himself sideways on the edge of the table. "Listen up, kiddo."

"Stop calling me that!" You were growing sick and tired of people looking down at you like some child. You were better than that.

"I'll call whatever I want. Five children are missing, and you have something to do with it now talk."

"No!" A quick burst of energy, followed by absolute emptiness, coursed through your body before you were suddenly on the other side of the room. Both Coulson and Natasha were looking at you, utterly baffled that you were able to use your powers despite the cuffs. With Natasha trying to reach out for you and Coulsen undoubtedly calling for backup, you were cornered.

One swift kick was all it took to drive the man backward against the wall. A sickening crunch indicating that you've definitely broken his hand. There was no way back now, no more playing nice. You made a move to turn around, but your still cuffed hands were now held in a firm grip by Natasha. The woman pushed you roughly to the ground and caged you in with her thighs around your hips.

"Don't make me do this (y/n)," Natasha panted against the side of your neck. She was straining to keep you down, and you felt a warmth akin to pride spreading from your chest at the thought.

Natasha's hand came up to grab the curvature of your neck before applying pressure. It didn't take long at all for you to lose consciousness. Maybe it was the stress. Perhaps you just lacked the strength to fight back against the black widow. But you were soon out like a light.

You didn't dream, but you woke up in bed with a racing heart and a fuzzy head. Soft sheets pooled at your waist as you sat up. Your hands were still cuffed, but you were wearing different clothes. How long had you been out?

"Goodmorning."

Natasha was sat in a plastic chair, her back slumped and looking like hell. It was strange to see the woman like that after she'd been so poised earlier, and you wondered how long she'd been in here with you.

"Where did you take me?"

Natasha sighed. The woman let her head fall into her hands, gripping her hair at the root. "You're safe here (y/n)."

"You really believe I'm going to buy into that crap? You laughed. The nerve of this woman was uncanny. "You choked me, Natasha."

"I didn't mean to. Just trust me, please." Natasha eyed you unsurely before moving her chair closer to the bed, putting a hand just above your knee. "How are your wrists," she nodded to your lap.

You frowned. But as you looked down, you saw that the skin underneath your cuffs was red and raw. Natasha moved to hold your wrists in her hands, but you quickly pulled them out of her reach. There was a heat in your chest, spreading like wildfire, and you banged your hands against the wall beside you in frustration. "Stop touching me," you hissed.

As Natasha made another move to take your hand, you harshly shoved your cuffed hands against her. Shock flashed through Natasha's pretty green eyes, but it was quickly replaced by their usual blank look. She gripped your upper arm tightly, fingers digging into the soft skin. "You can't lose your temper around me (y/n)," she said viciously, "be good for me."

Natasha firmly pressed you down against the bed by your arm, her grasp on you still tight and painful. You wildly trashed against her, roughly shoving your body against hers as hard as possible. Everything about Natasha irked you right now. Her commandeering voice, the strength with which she was able to hold you down with ease. But most of all, her unnecessary kindness.

Aside from her slightly unethical method of knocking you out, Natasha had shown she wanted what was best for you. You'd never admit it, but Shield taking you in had scared the living hell out of you, and Natasha had handled you with such gentleness it made your heart ache with anger and confusion.

Natasha shifted to pin you down against the mattress, her shoulder pressed against the side of your face.

"You're just using me," you panted against her shoulder. "Why are you doing this? Just let me go!"

Pressing her forehead against your temple, Natasha quietly shushed you, softly stroking your head. "Calm down for me Малы́шка."

Natasha's arms snaked around you, keeping you in a firm hold. And while you continued to struggle against her for a bit, you gradually started feeling the anger seep out of you. You had to admit it felt nice to have the red-head so close to you, the comfortable heaviness of her body against yours made your chest feel a lot lighter. "Witchcraft," you thought humorously.

Natasha let out a hum of content—of approval— and tightened her hold on you the tiniest bit, making your eyes fall closed again.

Translation: Малы́шка = baby girl

#natasha x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha x you

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years ago

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Journey through time - Part 4

Summary: Your relationship with Syverson over the years.

Warning: Super fluff, get ready to grab tissues for your tears of joy

A/N: This got out of hand and I fantasized too much about wedding with Sy 😅 second-last part to go for this photo series (adding part 1, part 2 and part 3 for anyone who wants to read). Images taken from Pinterest and Google, if there are any inaccuracies please ignore because it is fictional.

Since Sy only had ten weeks until his next deployment, the preparation for the wedding was in full swing. He wanted a military wedding, proud as he was about his army life and since Syverson men were all in the army themselves, he wanted to stick to his family tradition. But the hurried wedding meant the army chappel was unavailable. His father suggested the wedding to take place in Austin, offering his house for the ceremony and since your parents did not mind, it was decided that you both will have your autumn wedding in the backyard of the house where he grew up.

You had sneakily asked Sy about his preferred wedding dress style. "I like the long ball gown type, you know, where you would look like a princess." He had suggested, smirking at you and seeing through your trick to find out about his liking. "And you would be the prince at the altar, in your uniform with the saber?" You always ended up sobbing when you thought about the wedding, making Sy cuddle you while assuring you he would do everything in his power to give you the best life possible. With his mother, your own mom and your cousins, you had shopped for dresses until you found the one which had all the ladies reaching for the box of tissues.

Since he was going to wear his uniform for the wedding, Sy couldn't keep the beard. The day Sy had to shave off his beard, you had tried to stifle your laughter while he had whined like a child. He had grown too attached to his facial hair, saying "This is a part of me, feels like I'm getting rid of a limb." Rest of the day you had to hear him complain about looking like a kid, having you to assure him in many ways how he was a man. It was also the day you were leaving to stay at the hotel, since seeing the bride before the wedding was bad luck and you did not want to take any chances. Sy took his time in relishing every moment spent with you, up until the time you had to leave, making you grab your discarded clothes in a hurry while your dad was waiting downstairs in the car.

You had never seen Sy cry, not even when you had made him watch sappy emotional movies. But when you walked down the aisle with your father by your side, in the soft autumn sunlight you saw your man's eyes glisten with tears. You couldn't hold in yours when you laid eyes on him, looking royal in his dress blues with his medals and ribbons decorating his chest. Sy's best man tapped him on his shoulder, saying something which made him nod along with his buddy. "You look beautiful." He had whispered to you when you came to stand next to him, making you blush more than you already were. You could barely speak while reciting your vows, taking a moment to breathe through the tears, finally getting it out with sniffles and wiping under your eyes as a stray tear escaped. When Sy kissed you as your husband, your world exploded and in that very instant you knew your life couldn't get any better.

The wedding reception was a blast. Your first dance with your husband was a tear-jerking moment for both of you. While you had unapologetically cried on his shoulder, Sy had sniffed his welling tears away. By the end of the night, you were tipsy with wine and Sy was getting his friends drunk. You had blushed beet-red when Sy had crawled under your gown to take your garter off effortlessly with his teeth, with everyone cheering on. After the reception, Sy had carried you to your room, pausing in the corridor for a kiss and then entering the room with you cradled in his arms. Giggling as the alcohol made you giddy, you had pulled Sy towards you on the bed by the lapel of his tux and commanded, "We're not getting any younger, Sy, take me as your wife and make me a mother." And Sy had followed your command obediently, taking you countless times in the night until the sun was up.

You and Sy escaped to Hawaii for your honeymoon with sandy beaches and salty air. The days were spent with you mostly lounging on the sand while Sy would take a swim. When you both weren't out at the beach or exploring the island, Sy would keep you busy by satiating his hunger for your body. Nights were spent with lots of cuddles and talks about the future, where you found out Sy was planning to leave the army for you. "As much as I hate to say goodbye to you, I don't want to be the reason why you let go of something you love to do." You had said, laying on his chest and playing with his fuzzy hair. "We'll figure it out together." He had answered, pulling your face up to him and taking your lips for a long kiss.

Sy always joked his beard grew faster than the speed of light. Before you knew it, your captain was back to looking like the rugged handsome hunk you had bumped into. One morning he was trimming the unruly fluff of his beard when you stormed inside the bathroom, holding your hand over your mouth. Dropping down on your knees you were emptying the contents of your stomach in the toilet, as waves of nausea washed over you. Sy was right by your side, rubbing his hand over your back and holding your hair away from your face. "Sy, I don't know I have a feeling we are going to get a jumpstart on your big family dream." Sy had laughed but when you took a test later in the day, he was left speechless. You had stared at him, waving your hand in front of his face while his eyes focused far off. But then he had hugged you so tightly, you were afraid you were going to run out of air. "I'm going to be a dad." He had kissed you before bending down to your belly and placing a gentle kiss on your stomach.

Before you knew it, it was time for Sy to leave again. But unlike last time, you were brave. You understood Sy had a lot to deal with once he was out there, you didn't want to pile your grief of parting ways on top of his worries. Still, somedays were difficult for you when you had to battle morning sickness alone, crying while clutching the toilet hoping if only Sy were there to comfort you. You tried not to tell him that though, while you talked on the phone you only listened to him as he described funny things that happened around camp. One day, out of the blue you got a call from him, dread filled you because Sy wasn't one to call in the middle of the day. Hearing his voice calmed you down because you had expected the worst possible news. "They are pulling out the troops from here." He had said, his voice buoyant with excitement. "I'm coming home, baby."

One would think being the captain in the army and taking care of men under his command, Sy would be reasonably calm about his impending parenthood. But it was the complete opposite and Sy was a mess. He was always making sure you were comfortable, feeding you until you were sure you were going to burst and most of all, fussing about getting the nursery ready on time. He had built a crib from scratch, being awfully proud about his handiwork while you had watched the carpenter in him come to life. He did practice rounds of driving to the hospital for when you went into labor, timing it like he was performing a drill, sometimes driving you insane by repeating it again and again. In the night, he would massage your painfully swollen ankles while you read him from a parenting book, laughing while he joked how he's not going to be this fussy for the next one. "Next one? This bun isn't even out of the oven yet and you are already planning on mixing the dough for the next batch." He would grin at you mischievously and very slyly say, "You see, mixing the dough is my favorite part." And the day when finally baby Adeline was born, Sy had cried like he had never before.

Continued to Part 5

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x you #captain syverson fluff #henry cavill fanfic

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sluttyminghao · 4 years ago

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please | k.mg

w.c: 2.2k request: could you possibly do mingyu and edging? genre: smut alllll the way thru my dudes pairing: mingyu x reader (gender neutral) warnings: sub!mingyu, edging, oral (m. receiving), use of toys (vibrator, cock ring), use of handcuffs, slight mention of sexting a/n: this has been the one thing I've been thinking about for days,,, I hope you enjoy!

“Please let me cum, I’ve been so good for you”

His whines and pleas were music to your ears, and the sight was even better. He was currently laying on his back while you straddled his thighs, a vibrator held to his cock and his whimpers getting louder and louder by the second.

How he had gotten into this position you ask? Well, it had started once you got home that afternoon, and you had been waiting for this to happen for a while. Probably for longer than you liked to admit, but now that it had played out so nicely, you knew it was worth the wait.

Your relationship with Mingyu was very dynamic, in the sense that you both enjoyed being the dom and the sub. While Mingyu had said he preferred being the dominant, you knew that if you could coax him enough, he would be able to enjoy being the submissive once in a while.

You had teased him the whole morning before you had to leave for work; leaving soft kisses all down his neck and grinding against his half-hard cock, before getting up and leaving him to deal with a raging boner and load of desire for you.

Before you had even walked out the door you could hear him whimpering for you. You stepped back into the bedroom only to find said man sprawled out on the bed, stripped right down except for his boxers, and one of his hands palming himself through his boxers, a loud moan erupting from him once he saw you standing in the doorway watching him.

“Please...”

You smirk and walk over to him, your mischievous and playful eyes meeting his dark and lustful ones. Slowly placing a hand over the one he was using to palm himself with, he sucked in a breath and waited to see what you would do, albeit impatiently with the way he was squirming around under your touch.

“What do you want baby boy?”

The pet name made him whine as you continued your ministrations on his clothed cock, a small patch of wetness now seeping through from his pre-cum. He continued to whine at the way your hand was moving and how you were now nibbling and lightly sucking on his neck, the feelings sending him into euphoria.

“Please let me cum”

He watched in horror as you removed your hand and gave his neck one final nip, moving away from him. You smirked at his crestfallen face, knowing that he was definitely falling into a submissive state, just where you wanted him to be.

“No, you can wait until I get home. And if you touch yourself or cum before I get home, you will be punished, okay baby?”

His whine that ended in a groan gave you all the indication you needed that you had done your job, and finally left the house to go to work, shutting the door softly behind you. Now that you were alone with your thoughts, your mind began to spiral with all the things you could do to Mingyu when you got home later that afternoon.

A few hours into your shift at work, you were finally able to sit down and check your phone and catch up on social media things. One thing, or in particular, many messages from one man, caught your attention almost immediately, swiping open the messages to a ton of whines and pleas.

[Gyu <3] 12:34pm: Baby,,, I need you so bad

[Gyu <3] 12:34pm: My cock is so hard right now, it’s so hard not to touch myself

[Gyu <3] 12:36pm: Please, I need to cum so badly

[Gyu <3] 12:40pm: 1 image attached

You drew in a breath as you clicked on the photo and let it expand to the whole screen, and you felt a pool of arousal form in the pit of your stomach. It was a photo of his cock, standing up and an angry red, the tip starting to turn a shade of dull purple. You could see his slightly defined abs contracting and while you couldn’t see his eyes, you could see he had his bottom lip pulled in under his teeth, obviously trying very hard not to touch himself without your permission.

You quickly started typing out a response to him, knowing that it would drive him absolutely crazy, but would be effective enough until you could get home from work and deal with him yourself.

[You] 1:02pm: Aw does baby boy want to touch himself? Make himself feel good? Why don’t you touch yourself for me then baby, but if you cum you will be punished when I get home. Understood?

His reply was almost immediate, a ‘yes’ and a quick photo he had snapped of him finally wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, pleasure evident across his face. A smirk pulled across your face as you glanced at the time at the top of your phone; only a couple more hours until you could go home and see how fucked out Mingyu really was.

You hadn’t even been able to turn the key in the lock of the door before you could hear his whimpers. Turning the key lightly, you let the door open with a soft thud, before shutting it and toeing off your shoes and peeling your coat off. The whines got louder the closer you got to the bedroom, and you couldn't help but peek in to see how Mingyu was doing, and you felt even more arousal pooling throughout as you watched him.

He was completely bare now, having stripped off his boxers hours ago. His cock was still red and hard, and he was thrusting furiously into his hand, trying so hard to make himself cum. You quietly opened the door to stand close to him, him not having realized you were home as he was too immersed in his pleasure.

You watched him carefully, his face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he had begun the build-up to his orgasm, his chest moving up and down rapidly and his hips bucking into his hand to meet the thrusts. You quirked an eyebrow as he finally came, long white spurts of cum covering his chest and stomach. As his breathing slowed, he opened his eyes and practically screamed when he saw you standing there, a small smirk on your face as you bent down to his level, lips hovering above his.

“What did I tell you before I left for work baby boy? I told you not to cum, and now I have just seen you make a mess all over yourself, care to explain?”

He was whimpering now as you took his still half-hard cock in his hand and begun to pump it again, the overstimulation sending shocks down his spine. He took a few ragged breaths before managing to stutter out a response to you, something along the lines of “I’m sorry,,, couldn't help m’self” while his cheeks became a dark red hue.

“Well I guess I’ll have to punish you now won’t I baby?”

He whined some more, knowing that your punishments were always on the more extreme side, not that he complained. He watched as you opened the drawer in your bedside table, pulling out handcuffs, a cock ring and a vibrator. He gulped at the sight of the vibrator, knowing that if you used it, he would cum immediately.

“Move your hands to the headboard”

He did as you said immediately, hands quickly moving up so that you could cuff his hands to the headboard. Making sure they were secure, you tugged on them lightly before kissing down his neck and onto his chest. His breathing became more rapid as you went further down his body, before stopping right above his aching cock, now leaking precum.

You took his heavy cock in your hand, giving it a few pumps before sliding the cock ring on and making sure it was snug. He moaned out at the feeling; he would never admit it to you, but he really did enjoy being submissive to you. You always gave him the perfect amount of pain and pleasure, as well as the best aftercare.

The dull sound of the vibrator pulled him from his thoughts as he brought his attention back to you, eyes glinting with lust and mischief. You brought the vibrator to his nipples first, eliciting a loud gasp from him as you ran it softly across his chest, playing with the intensities for a bit to watch him squirm.

When you moved the vibrator down towards his thighs, you could see them shake with excitement. An idea had popped into your head, wherein you placed the vibrator on the tip of his cock without warning, pulling a loud moan from his lips.

“I’m gonna cum!”

You immediately pulled the vibrator away, watching as he thrashed on the bed at the loss of an orgasm. You laughed at the sight, his face now a rosy pink colour and his hands pulling strongly on the restraints. He opened his eyes to look at you with his lust-filled eyes, practically black at this point.

“Please let me cum, I’ve been so good for you!!”

You had been edging him for some time now, waiting until you could see his thighs clench or his abs contracting, before pulling away from him and watching him almost cry from how desperate he was for his release. His cock was extremely red now, and the tip a dark purple, streaks of precum leaking down towards the base.

He had tears streaking down his face also, the amount of times he had pleaded and begged to let you cum only to be denied meant that he was extremely sensitive and even the slightest feather touch to his cock would send him into a mad frenzy, chasing his release like a mad man.

“P-please,,n-need to c-cum,,,,”

His voice was strained as he begged once more, the vibrator on the highest setting at the base of his cock while you had wrapped one of his nipples in your mouth, sucking gently. You pulled off with a pop, and looked him right in the eye while moving the vibrator up and down his shaft, his face contorting once more.

“Why should I let you cum baby boy? You didn't listen to me before I left for work, so now you’re paying the price”

He sobbed violently as you held the vibrator to the tip of his cock, watching at how his body shook from the amount of orgasms he had been denied thus far. You finally decided to give in, pulling the cock ring off the base of his shaft and turning off the vibrator.

You took his cock in your hand and pumped quickly, moving your head down and pressing a quick kiss to the tip. You suckled softly on the head, his back arching off the bed almost comically. Watching his actions carefully, you gave him a silent motion to say that he could cum, right as you engulfed his cock and began to suck on his cock like your life depended on it.

As soon as you had motioned that he could cum, he immediately let go, hands pulling roughly on the handcuffs as hot ropes of cum filled your mouth, which never seemed to end. He was seeing stars and blacked out for a few seconds from how intense his orgasm was, and finally relaxed back into the sheets, head spinning.

When he came to a little while later, the handcuffs were gone, and his boxers had been pulled back up. Everything had been cleaned up and he thought that perhaps it had just been a figment of his imagination, until you walked back in with a bottle of water and some fruit on a plate.

You handed him the plate and the water which he accepted gratefully, before you sat next to him, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He watched you as he munched on a strawberry, eyes back to their playful nature.

“Thank you”

You immediately looked up in surprise, looking at Mingyu who had a grin on his face. You gave him a quizzical look, before he continued on, eating another strawberry and having a sip of water before continuing.

“I deserved that, I really didn't mean to cum before you got home i promise,,, thank you for punishing me”

A blush had crept up your cheeks, not even able to look the man in the eye before he pulled your chin up with a finger, making you look him in the eye. He smiled at you, canines showing prominently, before leaning in and giving you a kiss that was so full of love and passion it made your heart flutter. Just when you had laid down together and snuggled in, Mingyu turned to you once more, a giggle erupting from his lips.

“By the way, that was the best orgasm of my life”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #kpop smut #kpop drabble #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #mingyu drabble #mingyu scenario #mingyu imagine #smut #sub!mingyu

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murumokirby360 · 3 years ago

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My Adata HD330 2TB External Hard Disk Drive Review (with my Paper Dolls) - Part 2 [May 11, 2022]

Hello! This is Part 2 of my new item review, the Adata HD330 External Hard Disk Drive (with my paper dolls).😁

In this part, I'm going to show ya my comparison between my recent external hard drive (on the left) & my old broken one (on the right) is my Western Digital My Passport Essential 500GB.

But before that: I would like to apologize for the long delay. My parents are busying extending our house to make more space 🏠🔨, plus the voting election in my country 🇵🇭🗳️, and of course... Umm... I felt emotional & depressed. The latter was the concern of my 160GB (3.5 inch) hard disk drive's life that was on the line 😟 because I made a dumb decision when I disassemble it & see what's the problem via following instructions without my knowledge about the hard disk drive. That 160GB HDD contains my artworks 🎨🖌️, photos 🖼️ & other files 📁 that are my precious memories from 2016 & beyond, and I can't retrieve them anymore. So, I REALLY NEED to find a good professional disk recovery store to save my files, but it'll be very expensive to pay & I don't have enough money. I guess, I DO REALLY NEED a job to earn my profits. *sigh* Without my precious files, there will be no... ME. And my life will be a downward spiral of depression.😔

Anyway, back to my topic... If you haven't seen my previous part, then please [CLICK ME!].

So, without further ado, let's get started:

1st & 2nd Image(s) ↑:

• [1st Image] As I said in my intro, you're looking at my two external hard disk drives. Despite the design & look, my Adata HD330 is taller than my old WD (short for Western Digital).

• [2nd Image] Another thing was the HD330 had shock & drop proof with built-in silicon case around the plastic shell case & also the interior 2.5 inch HDD, though I still need to buy a rugged hard case for extra protection. Whereas my old WD My Password Essential has nothing but four rubber pads on the back.

Little story 📖: My former BF actually purchased this Western Digital external HDD at the local tech store for me as a token of our friendship, and I was very surprised back then when I was in my high school days. *Sigh* 😌 Memories, I would never forget that moment.

3rd to 6th Image(s) ↑:

• Here are their side to side comparison, sandwich style.

• [5th Image (left)] On my old WD external hard drive, you may notice that there's a tiny hole on the left side. That's the light indicator when plugging the Micro-B USB port through the computer via cable.

• [6th Image (right)] And speaking of ports, both Adata HD330 & (old) WD My Passport Essential are sporting USB Micro-B 3.0 port. Well, actually 3.2 gen 1 port for the Adata HD330, meaning it's far superior port than the old 3.0 variant. (Well, I think) It'll be awesome if the HD330 will be sporting the USB type C cable for a modern look & less hassle plugging than the irreversible USB Micro-B. (Just suggesting)

7th & 8th Image(s) ↑:

• [7th Image] Finally, their USB Micro-B 3.0 cables. On the left is from Adata HD330 & on the right is from WD My Passport Essential, which shows up aging from rust on the USB type-A male, but the male Micro-B was surprisingly quite intact & shine.

• [8th Image] On top of that, the old USB Micro-B cable 3.0 is longer than Adata's short-length cable. Also, that cable strap remains wrapped around, to this day.

9th & 10th Image(s) ↑ [without flash for no. 10th]:

• My paper dolls said that these two external HDs are both blue! 💙Well yeah, of course not because I love blue, duh.😊 One is brand new & the other was very old, due to the signing age of fading WD logo on the front, scratch surface, etc. Not to mention not very functional, and hoping it will revive my old one (hoping my old files remain intact without a single corrupt), anytime soon. As soon as I want the 160GB hard drive will be an attempt to save it first (if possible).🤞😟

Overall:

• Well, nothing new. But, I would say it was a pretty good short comparison between my two existing portable/external HD (not High Definition) or HDD. 🙂👍

• Right now, I have nothing to transfer my files for my next & final part. 😟 So, I'm not sure if I could finish this topic this month (May) or not. But, here's hoping that I will find the way while my 160GB HD is putting in rest mode.

Well, that’s all for now. If you want to see my previous topic from March, as well as my current topic from April, then I’ll provide some links down below.↓😉

My Oria 120 in 1 Screwdriver Set Review:

• Part 1 [Mar 15, 2022]

• Part 2 (Final) [Mar 19, 2022]

My Adata HD330 (2TB) External HDD Review:

• Part 1 [Apr 12, 2022]

Tagged: @bryan360, @lordromulus90, @carmenramcat, @gibsonfreak49, @leapant, @alexander1301

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

Haven Gray

CW: Abducted whumpee, description of missing person, captivity, BBU/WRU

Where Is Haven Gray?

r/FindTheMissing

•Posted by u/bananasare2appealing

3 days ago

In the summer of 20XX, 21-year-old Haven Gray texted family and friends to let them know a second job interview they’d just finished had gone well, and they expected to be offered the job.

They made plans to have dinner with a couple of friends to celebrate, but never showed up to the restaurant. They were reported missing by their parents later that night and have never been seen again.

Hey, everyone, this is my first attempt at a post like this, so I hope you’ll go easy on me! Haven Gray is a kind of a personal case to me, I went to the same high school a few years behind them and there was still a lot of talk about what could have happened and like, their picture is in a memorial frame in the hallway by the principal’s office. It’s just a really important case to me and I hope they figure out what happened to Haven one day.

Haven Gray was the oldest of three children born to Matthew and Maria Gray in the small town of Trenton, Indiana. Tall, with long wavy red hair and gray eyes, they stood out in a crowd in more ways than one.

Haven set records for their high school’s cross-country track team, played well on the school basketball team, and maintained a 3.5 GPA alongside plenty of extracurriculars and an active social life.

They then spent two years attending Trenton Community College, looking to finish out their degree at Indiana State University and go into the human resources field. They kept up a part-time job on the side, but during the summer before they would move to ISU, they decided to look for full-time work to help save up some money.

Haven’s mother Maria was interviewed after their disappearance by local news station INNW as saying that Haven was very excited about finishing up their degree and moving into their first real apartment.

Haven had seen an ad on a job-hunting website for a receptionist for a temp agency that specialized in placing HR professionals in nearby companies. Seeing a way to get some relevant experience before they finished up their degree, they applied and were contacted for a job interview.

Here’s where things get just a little weird, before they get even weirder.

Haven texted a photo of the strip mall where the job interview was, and noted that the company was not located in a well-maintained place, which made Haven very nervous. The signage also seemed brand new, which conflicted with information on the company website suggesting they’d been in that location for years.

They waited in their car and called the company phone. Only when someone came out to greet them did Haven go inside for the interview.

The first interview went smoothly, and Haven excitedly called their friends and family to say a second interview was already scheduled with the owner of the small company. It turned out, they explained, that the creepy location was no longer the company’s main location, and their second interview would be at a different address in a much nicer part of town.

They did not give any explanation, if any was given to them, about the reason for brand new signage if the business was in the process of leaving that address. On the day of the second interview, one week later, Haven’s mother saw them leaving in a deep blue top with satin detailing at the neck and gray slacks.

They exchanged goodbyes, and Haven reminded their mother they would be meeting friends tonight, either to celebrate a good interview or commiserate over a bad one.

“My comfort,” Maria Gray said in her interview with INNW, “is that I said goodbye and I love you. I have that, at least. So many don’t get that final chance. I just wish I had known it was the last time. I would have looked at them a little longer.”

From here, Haven is seen on camera at their ‘regular’ Starbucks a few moments later, ordering a large (venti) iced latte. An automatic speed-checker camera next to the highway captured their car with license plate clearly visible driving in the direction of the interstate a few minutes later.

Two hours after this sighting, they called a friend, Natalie Morales, to tell her that the interview had gone well and they believed they would be offered the job. Dinner that night, Haven said, would definitely be a celebration.

They texted three other friends, Maria, and Matthew - as well as a younger sibling. These are the last direct communications anyone had with Haven Gray.

“They didn’t sound scared,” Natalie said in her own interview with True Crime Podcast Now You See Them, Now You Don’t. "Not at all. I’ve thought about it over and over again, trying to ask myself, was there fear there? Had something already happened? And I just don’t think so. I think whatever happened, happened after they hung up the phone. They were excited, said the pay rate was way more than they expected for a receptionist job. The only thing is that they said the guy who interviewed them kind of... gave them the, you know. Made the hair on their arms stand up. You know what I mean? And I thought of that first, when they never... but he has an alibi.”

The man in question is Ladd Prescott, the stated owner of the temp agency Haven applied to. Ladd gave multiple interviews, off-camera and to law enforcement, but he did not leave the office and is seen on in-office security cameras and he is not considered a person of interest in the case.

The final image of Haven’s whereabouts that day comes from the CCTV camera at an ATM for Haven’s bank one hour after the final text message sent to their father Matthew. They are seen pulling up in their car to the drive-thru ATM, where they withdrew $300.

Notable about this footage is three things:

1. Haven appears to look directly at the camera twice, deliberately holding their gaze maybe

2. Their hair, carefully styled when they left for the interview according to Maria, is noticeably in disarray, and they do not appear to be wearing the same shirt they had on when they left (the footage is super grainy, so this is hard to tell exactly, but if you check here you can see that they appear to be wearing a white t-shirt).

3. A shadow just behind them moves independently of Haven, gestures a few times, and it appears - and police believe - that someone else is in the car with Haven Gray directing their movements.

Haven never arrived at the restaurant. When their friends attempted to contact them, the phone went directly to voicemail. This was very out of the ordinary for Haven, so friends called Maria and Matthew, who became immediately worried and contacted the police.

Haven Gray officially was listed as a missing person the next day.

Four days later, their car - with IDs, debit and credit card, a book they were reading, and their resume and list of questions from the interview all inside - was located at a nearby riverfront, abandoned. The only thing missing was the $300 in cash Haven had taken out of the ATM, and Haven themself.

A witness came forward later stating they had seen a man with ashy blond hair who appeared to be in his 40′s or 50′s smoking next to the car the day Haven was last seen. This man has never come forward or been located and his connection to Haven’s disappearance, if any, is unknown.

Law enforcement believes that Haven was abducted within half an hour of finishing their interview by someone who forced their way into the car, and likely directed to the ATM to take cash out and then met someone else or moved into a different car after parking Haven’s at the riverfront.

Weirdly, the riverfront was checked the day after Haven was declared missing, which suggests someone came back and moved the car after the witness saw the smoking man, then moved it back into place after the initial search of the area was over with.

Cell towers picked up pings from Haven’s phone for four hours afterward, heading due east. The nearest big city would have been Cincinnati, so it’s possible the abductor headed that direction. If they did, though, they took a winding route and Haven’s phone was turned off or discarded before reaching the city.

Look, I know this is a big conspiracy theory and there’s absolutely no proof, but I think Haven was abducted by WRU.

Why?

Three weeks prior to their disappearance, Haven attended a bar’s “singles night”. They mentioned to friends later that they connected with a man who worked for WRU as a handler, but then decided they couldn’t handle the reality of what he did and cut off contact before they could have their first real date.

(The handler in question has been cleared during the investigation, but I still have my suspicions)

I know this seems like the flimsiest reason, but Haven’s friends all say that the man was very upset by Haven’s discomfort with his job, tried to keep contacting them for days. I think the job interview is a red herring and it’s this handler guy who is behind it somehow - maybe him, or his friends.

Also, there’s a WRU Training Facility in Cincinnati, Ohio, only a few hours away... and law enforcement never even tried to get a warrant to search there. Easy way to get rid of someone if you did something to them, right?

(I know, I know, WRU has standards and does checks and all that, but seriously. Think about it.)

A year later, improbably, a farmer working to mow the ditch next to his fields found Haven’s cell phone in a ziploc inside a second plastic bag. The phone had been wiped to factory settings and no new useful information was found.

So, where is Haven Gray?

Were they murdered? Abducted? Will we find their body in a field one day? Were they just dumped in the river next to their abandoned car? Are they part of the WRU system now? No one seems to know, and reported sightings of them in Los Angeles, New York City, and even one mention from Sydney, Australia, seem hard to believe.

Haven’s mother Maria says they have no plans to declare Haven legally dead, and they intend to keep looking “as long as it takes”.

What Are Your Thoughts?

WRU NEW ACQUISITION INTAKE FORM FACILITY 005

SUBJECT: 549065

DATE OF ACQUISITION: 06.06.20XX

TIME OF ACQUISITION: 1:45 PM

LOCATION ASSIGNED: FACILITY 005, CINCINNATI, OHIO

PREVIOUS ALIAS: Haven Finley Gray

AGE: 21

DATE OF BIRTH: 07.19.20XX

HAIR: Red

EYES: Gray

HEIGHT: 6′0″

WEIGHT: 153 lbs

SEXUALITY: Pansexual

DESIGNATION: Romantic

KNOWN SKILLS: Subject in school for business-related major, excellent with typing, record-keeping, work with Excel spreadsheets, etc. Subject reports regular workouts primarily consisting of long-distance cardio. Subject refused to provide details on sex life but is known to have been active in the dating scene of local area. Subject is known to be gregarious and social.

HOBBIES: Subject mentioned reading as a hobby, with primary interest in fantasy and science fiction. Three books located in subject’s car at time of acquisition.

KNOWN CONCERNS: Subject is showing some irregularities in heartrate, likely due to fear. No other known concerns.

KNOWN IMMEDIATE FAMILY: Matthew and Maria Gray, both living, location Trenton, Indiana. Grandparents are deceased.

SIBLINGS: Two younger siblings: Mark, brother, two years younger, and Penny, sister, four years younger.

METHOD OF ACQUISITION: Involuntary.

ACQUISITION DETAILS: Access to subject provided by local business. Subject was apprehended without incident by Handler Benjamin Ralford. Subject was given an injection of sedative and transferred to WRU company vehicle at 3:15 pm. The rest of the acquisition proceeded without incident.

ASSIGNED HANDLERS:

CONTRACT SIGNED: 06.09.20XX 5:55 PM

PRIMARY: Benjamin Ralford, per request, acting as primary. Handler and Processor, Romantic Division.

SECONDARY: Melissa Striker, Senior Handler and Processor, Romantic Division

SIGNATURE PROVIDED VOLUNTARILY, SUBJECT NOT SEDATED FOR SIGNING. SUBJECT SHOWED NO VISIBLE SIGNS OF INJURY AT TIME OF SIGNING. SUBJECT REPORTED FEELINGS OF FEAR AND CONFUSION COMMON TO NEW RECRUITS.

CONTRACT SIGNATURE: Haven Gray, aka 549065

PRESENT AT TIME OF SIGNING: Handler Benjamin Ralford, Badge #3345, WRU Attorney Ryan Alderson.

ESTIMATED COST FOR TRAINING: $125,000 USD

COMPENSATION TO BE PAID BY PROSPECTIVE: $500,000 USD

CURRENT LOCATION: Romantic Division Room #12, post-signing contract

TRAINING PLAN: ALL Positions 1-35, Flexibility, Sensitivity, Endurance, Dance, Socialization

COMMENTS:

I’m going to take every fucking thing out of that head and put back in only what I want to be there. I think they’ll fall in line once the Drip is really working on them. My professional recommendation is total illiteracy should be emphasized before moving on to other training. They’ll do better with focus and commitment on the skills we want to impart that way. I am also recommending absolutely no scarring unless there is no other option. - Benjamin Ralford, Primary Handler

Scribbled at the bottom of the paper and not put in to WRU’s digitized records system is a note in Ralford’s handwriting:

Should’ve gone on that fucking date, asshole

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump

#epistolary #whump #horror fiction #epistolary fiction #going missing #captured #captivity #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #box buddy #nonbinary whumpee #allyn bb #wru intake form #wru intake paperwork #implied noncon #abduction tw #abducted whumpee

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

Text

Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame.

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead.

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit.

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling.

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours.

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily.

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead.

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny.

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry.

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.”

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers.

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him.

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back.

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.

#Ron Weasley #ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #ron weasley smut #hp imagine #hp fic #punk!ron weasley

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haus-seeblick · 3 years ago

Text

Suptober Day 1! “Harvest”

My first ficlet for Suptober! Read under the cut :)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,218

Tags: Fluff, Disaster Bi Dean Winchester, Daydreaming about hot farmers, Some suggestive language (and swearing), Angelic wheat harvest assistance, The Dom Brow makes an appearance, Sam Ships It, Mini Case Fic

On AO3 here.

“All right,” Dean announces as he stomps into the hospital room, trailing mud with every step. “You’re not gonna have a problem anymore, Randy.”

The man propped up on the hospital bed cushions glares at Dean from under bushy eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time,” he snaps. “First these-- these things terrorize my fields for weeks, then y’all show up and are so useless that they maim me after you’re already on the case, and now I’ve lost the prime window to harvest a year’s worth o’ growth ‘cause I’m laid up in this godforsaken facility. So don’t you tell me I ain’t gonna have a problem anymore.”

Dean sinks down onto the rickety plastic chair next to the bed, moving gingerly to avoid jostling his (probably) dislocated shoulder, courtesy of some extremely vengeful spirits. He fixes Randy with an even gaze.

“Man, I’m sorry about your leg. I am. The spirits had a wider range than we thought and we figured you’d be safe at the house.”

Randy snorts in obvious derision, his scruffy mustache fluttering comically. Dean presses on.

“But, we’ve put them to rest. Your great-grandparents aren’t gonna give you any more grief.” Even if the rest of your family did totally fuck them over.

He stands again, awkwardly, and pats Randy’s good knee. “Sorry about your harvest, though. Can anyone help out? Neighbors? Friends?”

Randy glowers. “I ain’t takin’ no charity.”

Dean quirks his lips and nods. “Right. Take it easy, Randy.” He leaves the still-grumbling farmer behind, following his own trail of mud back down the hallway. A tall janitor lurking around the corner sends him a death glare and Dean tries for an appropriately apologetic smile.

It’s been a real headache of a night.

The pair of spirits haunting Randy Johnson’s wheat fields ended up being way more pissed off than Sam, Dean, and Cas had anticipated. By the time Cas located the heavy brass key to the farmhouse that was apparently tethering the property-line-obsessed spirits to the material plane, Dean and Sam were long out of rock salt. In their retreat, they’d ended up waist-deep in a pebbly creek, splashing and wobbling as they beat off the screeching spirits with crowbars. Dean has an unfortunately-placed boulder to thank for his dislocated shoulder -- he went down hard and clumsy just as Cas reappeared next to the stream, the old key melting dramatically in the bright glow of his palm.

The spirits burned away in a shower of sparks, along with Dean’s dignity.

To top it all off, Dean drew the short straw to go tell Randy the case was closed, and he may have stomped off in a sulky huff before thinking of asking Cas or Sam to put his shoulder right.

Oh, well. At least it’s dealt with. One more night in their more-stained-than-usual motel room, and first thing in the morning they’ll get the hell outta Dodge (almost literally - they’re up in Osborne County).

Dean thinks of a bright July morning on the open road and sighs in relief.

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

He doesn’t get his wish.

“I just feel bad, Dean!” Sam protests as Dean gesticulates incredulously at him. (His shoulder was very pleasantly healed by Cas the night before, and if Dean noticed that Cas’ warm hands lingered a little longer on his skin than was technically necessary for a cursory dislocation repair, he didn’t mention it.)

“God, Sammy, yeah, it sucks about the guy’s leg, but maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole to everyone he knows, somebody’d help him out! It’s not-- it can’t be our problem.”

Sam crosses his arms stubbornly. “It’s not about Randy. His fields are part of a huge supply that feeds a ton of people. Do you want people to go hungry, Dean?”

Castiel chooses that moment to materialize directly next to Dean, his nose inches away from Dean’s cheek. He’s holding two steaming cups of coffee and Dean immediately grabs one. Cas squints and tilts his head. “Why does Dean want people to go hungry?”

“Oh my god.” Dean throws his free hand up. “Fine. Fucking fine. We’ll find someone who’s willing to plow the dude’s fields. That’ll be easy.”

Sam opens his big mouth, probably to say something about having faith in humanity, but Cas beats him to it. Still planted firmly in Dean’s bubble, he sends a puff of warm air against Dean’s face as he speaks.

“Oh. I can do it.”

Dean and Sam both look at him. Dean shuffles back a couple steps and wills his eyes away from the guy’s lips. He really spends too much time staring at them.

“Um--” Sam clears his throat. “You can harvest Randy’s wheat?”

“I can plow, yes.” Cas nods firmly. Dean’s first sip of coffee comes spraying back out. He pounds his chest and wheezes.

“Like-- like-- with a combine?”

Cas furrows his brow. “Is that a machine? No, I don’t require machinery. This is a very basic task.”

“Plowing,” Dean says weakly.

“Harvesting,” Cas corrects, tilting his chin down and narrowing his eyes. “Humans have been doing it for a very long time. I used to help, now and again. I can’t imagine the process has changed much.”

Sam slaps his thighs as he stands up from his bed. “Well! Look at that, Dean. Cas doesn’t want people to go hungry.”

Dean flips him off, but it lacks the usual heat.

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

An hour later, they find themselves on the edge of a vast, lazily undulating expanse of gold. They’d skirted the north edge of the field extensively while working the spirit case, since the activity was strongest there along the creek, but in his single-minded focus Dean hadn’t really paid much attention to the field itself.

It’s big. Like, squint-into-the-distance-and-you-can’t-see-the-end big.

“You’re really gonna plow all that?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas. The morning sun is turning the tips of Cas’ hair a chestnut gold.

“I will cut down the stalks, separate the grain from the chaff, and deposit the edible grain into a large truck, which apparently takes it where it needs to go,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “I visited Randy early this morning to make sure I knew which truck it was.”

Sam laughs. “Oh yeah? How’d good old Randy take that?”

“He seemed dubious,” Cas says. “And rude. I assured him that despite his unsavory attitude, he would come home to harvested fields.”

“Very angelic of you,” Sam remarks.

“So how’s this gonna go?” Dean lifts a hand to block out the steadily-rising sun. “You gonna be flapping back and forth? Probably not smart to let the locals clock an angel doing the harvest.”

Cas arches an eyebrow at him, somehow gazing down at Dean despite being an inch shorter. “I don’t flap, Dean. I may have wings, but their movement in the ether is beyond your comprehension.”

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his face away in a show of studying the field to the north, but mostly to conceal the flush of his cheeks in response to that eyebrow.

For Christ's sake, keep it together, Winchester.

“I can’t explain to you how it will look,” Cas continues, oblivious. “You’ll just have to watch. Anything you see will be for your eyes only. I guarantee no locals will ‘clock me.’”

Dean looks back just in time to see the tail end of the finger quotes. Cas is staring right at him, that damn eyebrow still up, a subtle challenge, daring Dean to make a move.

Maybe not so oblivious. Asshole.

Dean smiles sweetly and gestures at the wheat. “All right then. Have at it, buddy. Show us what you’ve got.”

With no further ado, Cas is gone. Dean’s left staring through the previously-Cas-occupied space at his brother, who’s grimacing with an air of great suffering.

“What?” Dean demands.

Sam sighs heavily and gazes out over the field. “You two are so weird.”

Dean’s about to respond with something really witty when Sam perks up and points into the distance. “Holy crap, look!”

Dean follows the path of Sam’s outstretched finger and his mouth drops open. On the horizon, at the far end of the field, there’s a cloud. No-- a mini tornado. A golden tornado. A… sparkly tornado?

“What the--” Dean cups his hands around his eyes like blinkers. Even with the glare of the sun blocked out, though, the tornado is just as bright -- a swirling, racing funnel criss-crossing the field way faster than a combine, or even Baby, could drive.

“Why is it-- what’s the sparkly stuff?”

Sam’s squinting too. “I think it’s the pieces of the stalks he’s separating? And they catch the light as they get tossed around.”

The tornado’s already halfway across the field, approaching them steadily. It’s about as tall as an oak tree, and as it gets closer Dean sees that Sam was right: thousands of little stalks and bits of grain and -- what had Cas called it? -- chaff are whirling and flitting amid the twisting golden dust of the tornado. The effect is a bit dizzying, kind of like that ocular migraine Dean had one time as a teenager, when an aura of tiny flashing spots obscured his vision, right there in his eye yet impossible to focus on.

He steps back instinctively, Sam mirroring his movement, when the tornado grows close to them. It whips past, blowing Dean’s jacket open, and where there was once chest-high golden grain, there’s now just dirt littered with aborted stalks.

“Damn,” Dean whispers. He’s seen Cas do all kinds of badass things, of course, but they’ve been more of the smiting and heavy-lifting variety. This is a new level of cool. In a farmer-y way. This, of course, leads Dean’s traitorous brain directly to images of worn flannel stretched tight over biceps; of a blade of hay dangling jauntily from chapped lips; of long, strong fingers gripping a pitchfork--

“--Dean!”

The pleasantly-evolving bubble bursts. Dean twitches as Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Dude! Cas is done, come on.”

Dean blinks a few times to bring himself back to reality (a reality with wheat-harvesting angel tornados) and realizes that Sam’s heading north along the field to where a normal-sized, non-funnel-cloudy Cas is standing, brushing off his trenchcoat. Dean follows his brother and takes in the scene; the whole field really has been reduced to nothing -- just a flat, dappled expanse.

“Damn, Cas,” he says quietly as he reaches Cas’ side. His voice comes out strained and a little breathless. “That was some good plowing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Can replies gravely. He tugs on his cuffs and some wheat dust puffs out. “It was an effective harvest. I disguised myself from mortal eyes -- including yours -- as I transported the grain to the truck, but I trust you saw the rest?”

Sam nods enthusiastically and launches straight into a barrage of questions about the physics and techniques and yadda yadda before Dean has to come up with a response. Yeah, I saw it. Yeah, it got me all tingly. That’s normal. He takes a few deliberate, slow breaths to calm the pounding in his chest.

Still tuning Sam out, he zeroes in on a single piece of wheat still stuck in Cas’ hair. It’s poking up toward the blue summer Kansas sky -- a tiny, trembling link between earth and heaven. Dean sidles up to Cas before he can overthink it. He slips his fingers into Cas’ wild, dark hair and plucks the wheat out.

He throws it on the ground. It belongs to the earth.

Sam falls silent with a choked-off laugh and Cas turns his trademark unblinking stare onto Dean. But this time there’s a slight crinkle to the edges of his eyes. A quirk of his lips.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says again. He reaches out and -- Dean stops breathing -- brushes another piece of wheat out of Dean’s collar. His warm fingers graze Dean’s throat and all Dean can do is watch the little stalk flutter to the ground.

Well. So much for a steady heartbeat.

“Hey, I’ve got stuff in my hair, too,” Sam announces, voice thick with amusement. “Anyone gonna help me out?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the enlightening piece of wheat and points a finger at Sam, leveling him with his sternest shut the fuck up face. He prays his cheeks aren’t flaming.

“If you need assistance, Sam--” Cas says, starting toward him.

“--He’s fine,” Dean interjects hastily. Maybe a little loudly. He coughs to cover it up. Smooth. “Let’s go. I wanna hit the road.”

Sam’s already jogging away before Dean’s done speaking. “I’ve still got the keys,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll warm up the car. You guys can catch up!”

Cas and Dean are left at the edge of the empty field. Dean rubs his neck and shuffles his feet, acutely aware of Cas’ piercing gaze. It’s nearly warmer than the morning sun. “Uh-- that was really cool, Cas. Thanks for letting us see it.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, measured and deep. “I enjoyed sharing that with you.”

Wow. All right. Dean needs to get moving or he’s going to explode. But not before filing that particular comment away for extensive mental perusal later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

He flashes a grin and punches Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, farmer angel. Let’s go home.”

#suptober21 #destiel #minific #i had fun with this #this is the first fic I'm ever posting y'all!#happy harvest

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t-lostinworlds · 5 years ago

Text

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [1]

A/N: Okay so here’s that angst I’ve been babbling about haha. This was so hard for me to write for some reason, like I genuinely felt nervous and anxious, and I cried a lil so yeah asdfghjkl prepare for some heartbreak.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: You find out the real reason why Tom has been distant, but it wasn't due to something out of his control, no, it was entirely his choice, and it wasn’t the right one.

Warnings: just pure heart wrenching angst and then some.

Word Count: 5.6k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

It's been going on for a month, maybe even more. You weren't proud on letting it stretch for this long, but you were still holding out hope, your faith in him too strong.

Tom was growing distant, farther from your reach despite the fact that you sleep on the same bed and live in the same house. The house that was once coated with warmth, laughter and happiness, but now, it's different, somewhat... cold, unnerving.

As a matter of fact, he barely even is home, and when he is, he treats you as someone who's just occupying the space, not someone who has seen him for him, naked and flawed, both demons and angels alike.

He's always glued to his phone, other times, fast asleep, or that's what you think anyway when he's in the bedroom at two in the afternoon. Simply put, he never truly gets to spend much time with you at all, despite being in the same house.

Kisses don't feel as warm, hugs just the same, and the last time you made love... gosh, it was a month and a half ago, which sounds so bad given that, that's how long he's been home for, right after his junket for Onward.

It's like there's an obvious wall between you two, and you know there is, you're just ignori—no, denial is the right word. You're in denial of what your three-year relationship has whittled to.

You're trying to not think much of it, blame it on the busyness of his life, but there's always something about a gut feeling that is too hard to ignore.

"I'm going to spend the night at Harry's again, we're pulling an all-nighter to get the final parts for the script done," Tom stated flatly the moment he stepped into the kitchen, all out of breath and sweaty from his morning run.

You tried to mask your added disappointment as you greeted him with a small smile. Added because you were already disappointed before he came home, and now you're even more let down due to the news he's brought.

It's been an everyday thing, waking up to a cold, empty space beside you in morning, and when you've been sleeping facing away from each other, a literal gap between you two, it makes your heart hurt. But you brush it off every time, seeming used to it.

It's been a weekly thing, him staying at Harry's, or rather, the twin's house overnight to finish this script they've been working so hard on. You were proud of course, never failing to support him through and through, but it doesn't make sleeping alone in that queen-size bed less dreadful.

Tom moved towards your place in front of the kitchen island, placing a swift kiss on your cheek before going for a glass of water. The gesture didn't make the butterflies in your stomach flutter as much as it used to, because there's something off, like he did it out of habit, not because he's sincere about it.

"Breakfast?"

Tom shook his head no as he chugged the tall glass of water empty. His eyes were elsewhere, never meeting yours as he muttered under his breath, "I'm going to go and take a shower."

He didn't even wait for a response as he swiftly left the kitchen, left you there to eat on your own, just like the past few.

You brush it off. You're getting used it.

***

"Wait, you're leaving now?" you asked with a frown, standing up from the couch once you saw Tom emerge from the hallway, dressed in a casual white shirt and denim jeans with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

He only nodded at you with a hum before retreating towards the kitchen, the sound of the fridge opening and closing bouncing off the white walls. You glanced at the clock perched on top of the fireplace: 10:46 am.

You couldn't stop your frown from deepening as you followed his figure towards the front door. "Uhm, you coming home for lunch?" you tried, still hopeful, even though you already know the answer.

"No, Harry and I will just order something." Tom lifted his head up from his phone to shoot you a small smile, to which you tried to return, and you did, it just didn't come out as honest as you wanted. He noticed this, his eyebrows furrowing as the curve on his lips slowly disappeared. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head and smiled wider, brighter, maybe a little too bright. "It's nothing," you breathed out to try and cover up the lie.

Of course you've talked to him about it, the whole him not often being home, not spending much time with you, but each time you brought it up, it always ends up in a fight. Always.

Voices are raised, accusations are then thrown, all of which are pointed towards you. Too clingy, not understanding his schedule, tying him down, not letting him live his life and it goes on and on and on, each one just cutting deeper, more painful than the prior.

You just don't have the energy to deal with it again, not now, not when he's about to leave. You can't bear to sleep alone as is, what more with an angry and hurting heart?

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, head tilted to the side, trying to get a read on your expression. You nodded, smile never wavering, "Yeah, have fun writing, I love you."

Those last three words hung in the air for a few seconds, almost taunting, deafening. You mean it, undeniably, from every letter to each syllable; you mean it with all your heart. But somehow, in some way, there's something tied to it. You couldn't pinpoint as to what it is exactly, but the words felt heavy between you two.

"Bye. I'll see you tomorrow." Tom cleared his throat before walking closer to you, arms wrapping nimbly around your form to give you a light squeeze, turning his head to press his lips on your cheek. His touch was feathery, making it feel like it's not even there in the first place. You could only hum with a nod, smile forced as you watched him out the front door, inside his car and drive off, disappearing down the road.

You let out a shaky breath as you willed yourself not to cry, fists opening and closing as if you're trying to get a hold of your sanity, anxiousness filling you up to the brim. Your eyes were trained on the skid marks left by the tires of his car, the only trace that he's been here, but also a reminder that he has once again left without even staying for a maximum of sixty minutes.

It's nothing. He's just busy.

Echoed your thoughts, over and over to try and reassure yourself, repeating it like a mantra to tune out the horrible conclusions, the nasty what if's that were crawling out of the depths of your mind, pushing its way to the surface.

It's nothing. He's just busy.

But there's always something about a gut feeling that is too strong for you to ignore.

***

"Thank you so much, have a good day." You smiled at the cashier, taking the two bags of take outs in each hand — Nando's to be specific — before making your way out of the building and into your car.

Once the bags were safely secured on the passenger's seat, you grabbed the wheel, but you stayed there for a few minutes, drumming your fingers against it. Your eyes glanced down at the key that was already in place, you just had to turn it and drive, but you hesitated.

You were having second thoughts if you should just go home and eat the food yourself, to just not bother to surprise Tom. You visited him on the first time he stayed at the twin's house, and that didn't end well. Your excited smile was quickly slapped off your face when Tom looked at you with nothing but anger and irritation. Said you were a distraction to him, not in a good way, and that's putting it lightly.

Harry and Sam tried to talk to him about it as they found Tom's outburst really uncalled for, but you digress, opting on just going home instead, not wanting to make the problem even bigger. After that, you never tried again.

But maybe this time it's different, maybe, once he sees you've ordered his favorite, he'll be happy about it.

Maybe.

***

Once parked in front of the twins' house, you let out a nervous breath, palms turning clammy as you stared at the image of a chicken plastered on the bag for a good minute. With a sharp intake of breath, you gathered all your courage before grabbing it and making your way out the car.

The walk towards the front door was making you feel anxious, maybe because of past experience or maybe you were just getting too into your head, but either way, your heart was pounding hard against your chest.

Few seconds after pressing the doorbell with a shaky finger, footsteps where soon heard on the other side. You held your breath, waiting for the door to open, and when it did, Harry emerged with a surprised and very confused look on his face.

"Y/N? Hey, what're you doing here?" the boy greeted with a hug, you returning the gesture as much as you could with full hands. He then moved out of the way as he added, "Come in."

"I wanted to surprise Tom with Nando's. I got you and Sam something too," you spoke as you walked down the hallway, lifting the bags up to prove your point, but Harry only furrowed his brows at you, expression growing even more confused, concerned even.

"Did someone say Nando's?" And on cue, Sam appeared, giving you a warm, welcoming hug before offering to take the bags from you to bring them to the kitchen.

Once he disappeared, Harry turned his attention back to you as you reached the living room. "Wait, Tom? I thought he was with you? He said he can't do a session today because he needed to spend time with you?"

It was your turn to look at him with a confused expression. "He said he was going to sleep over again because you're going to pull an all-nighter with the script," you said, hints of worry coating your voice, a certain feeling bubbling inside your stomach.

"Again? Tom hasn't spent the night here, ever." Harry's frown only deepened, especially when he saw the way your face fell at his words.

Knees weakening, you sat on the couch shakily, hands holding the cushion as you tried to steady yourself, both physically and emotionally.

"Does he even come here every week?" you asked, tone soft, a stark contrast to the chaotic battle inside your mind.

Harry sat beside you, his confusion not diminishing. "Well yeah, he comes at around eleven and then goes home after lunch."

You shook your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you avoided Harry's worried gaze. "He doesn't," you took a sharp breath. "He doesn't come home until the next day."

Your voice broke at the end of your sentence, tears brimming in your eyes as your head started to get clouded, darker with every ticking second. The grip you had on the cushion was tight, mind running a hundred miles per second, matching the harsh pace of your heart.

"Y/N, please tell me what's going on," Harry said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You met his gaze, contemplating, weighing if you should tell, or would it be too much to involve them in this too.

You've grown close with the twins, even with Paddy. You've been with Tom for three years, it wasn't surprising that you have grown that bond.

Granted, Harry and Sam have talked to you about their relationships, seeking advice, like a big-sister-little-brothers type of bond. With that said, this is different because it's Tom, their own brother. You don't know how you feel about talking ill about their brother whom they love so much.

"Look, I know you might think it's weird and awkward because Tom and I are brothers, or that I'll choose his side because he's my brother, but I won't if he's in the wrong. When he does something shitty, you know for a fact we'll be the first ones to call him out on it," Harry started once he saw your hesitation, wearing a reassuring smile as he gave your shoulder a squeeze. "And I'm just here to listen. I'm not going to get involved when it's not my place to be. I know you just need an outlet," he added.

You gave him a nod, breath shaky as you tried to think on it again. But with the situation at hand growing overwhelming, with the horrible thoughts eating away inside your brain, a month and a half long of keeping everything to yourself, suffering by yourself, you broke.

Fresh tears streamed down your face endlessly as you poured your heart out to Harry, sobs in between words as you tell him what's been going on, from the very beginning when you noticed something wasn't right, when things stared to change.

Sam came in the living room confused and worried, him and Harry sharing a look before he disappeared again and then came back with a glass of water, because he too understood what you needed, both of them knew you just needed to let it all out.

And you did.

***

The twin's offered for you to stay the night and you were glad. You have no idea what you'd do if you came back in the house and slept alone, don't know if you'd be able to stay sane.

They were both sweethearts about it, not jumping to conclusions of course but just tried to take your mind off of it, even if it's just for a little bit. But you knew you can't run and hide for too long.

It was nearing six pm when you decided it was time to go back home and face whatever it is you needed to face. The moment you turned the corner towards the house, your nerves erupted from head to toe, eyes trained on Tom's car that was parked right on the drive way.

Tears were already threatening to spill, but you kept strong, holding everything in as you turned off the ignition and made your way out of the car. When inside, you kept your head low as you took your shoes and jacket off, trying your hardest to not let out even the tiniest of sniffles.

You hear rustling in the kitchen, and surely enough, that's where you saw him, the one and only Tom Holland, eyebrows furrowed as he stared the cooking book down.

If it was any other day, your heart would've melted. You'd find the sight endearing as he navigates his way around the kitchen, but not today, not when your heart and mind were waging war against each other.

"You're home," you muttered, Tom's head lifting at the sound of your voice, a smile appearing its way onto his lips. It was a simple smile, innocent maybe, but it made your stomach slightly churn.

"Yeah, just arrived ten minutes ago," he said, tilting his head to the side in mere curiosity when you avoided his eyes at all costs, when you didn't even bother to come closer to him. "Where've you been?" he pondered.

You shrugged, seeming nonchalant as you turned your back on him, knowing that your face would give it all away the moment you ask him the question. "Just out. How was writing?"

It was an obvious bait, and of course, him being oblivious, he took it.

"Hard as usual, but we've made progress so it's great." The lie rolled off Tom's tongue like second nature, not even a single hint of remorse in his voice, and that in itself hurts. It made you wonder what else he could have lied about, which could have been so many, too many.

The doubts, the fears, the pain, it was consuming you, from every nerve to every bone, the stinging in your heart ever growing, turning harsher, an agonizing torture.

"What'd you want for dinner love?" he asked, the sound of a page flicking, ringing in your ear. You shut your eyes at the term of endearment, one he's only learned to use again just now, and with what you know, it only makes it hurt even worse.

Tom still had no clue to how you were breaking inside, thoughts trailing to a dark path because of his lies as he kept busy with whatever it is he was trying to cook.

You shook your head in response at his question, despite his eyes not being trained on you, despite him not having a clear view of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, making sure to keep a steady, unwavering tone as you spoke, "I already ate."

"Oh, okay," was the last thing you heard from him as you rushed towards your shared bedroom, palm over your mouth to try and silence the sob the managed to escape.

Of course you'll confront him about it, but not now, you don't have any strength left to do so. You were tired, weakened after pouring it all out to the twins, and you weren't sure if you're ready to hear the truth, not sure if you would be able to handle it.

But despite trying to put it off, the universe had other plans, forcing you to confront it sooner rather than later.

***

Feet heavy, you made your way towards the bed, ready to just crash and drift off into a deep slumber, to escape reality but when you saw the number of glasses on Tom's bedside table, you couldn't help but sigh in dismay.

It's a habit of his, bringing a new glass of water each time and never taking the old one back, creating a whole bunch of just empty glasses on the table. It's become a routine for you to bring them back out yourself, him flashing you a guilty smile each time you give him a pointed look with your hands full of said glasses.

He'll be quick to put on his best puppy eyes to avoid your scolding, using his baby voice as he apologise and you always give in, unable to resist. Maybe that's why he hasn't really learned from it yet.

You made your way over his bedside table, seeing that there are four this time around. You took each one carefully, balancing two in a hand. Before you could turn around to go back to the kitchen, a familiar rectangular device caught your eye, one that was facing up and hooked on a cable. You stared at it for a minute, maybe more.

Two sides of you were bickering, fighting on who should be more in control. One was telling you to just have a peek, that it wouldn't hurt to snoop just a little bit. The other was telling you the exact opposite, that confronting him was the right path. It went back and forth for a moment, like an angel and devil sitting on each shoulder, and you were torn.

Regardless, as if some being was watching from above and controlling your odds, you didn't get to a decision when the screen lit up on its own.

At first glance, it was nothing but a photo of you and Tessa as the lock screen. Your smile was wide as Tessa gave you a proper lick on the cheek, so innocent, nothing but pure love, it was wholesome. But you weren't looking at that, no, your gaze was dead set on the text message that came through, the notification box screaming at your face.

Message from ***:

Had an amazing time last night, you sure know how to make a girl feel good ;) see you next week tommy xx

Ice cold, it was what you felt from head to toe, body numb but you felt oh so sick in your stomach, outright disgusted.

As a tear rolled down your cheek, the glasses you held with your fingers, slipped from your grasp, landing on the floor with a loud shatter. It turned to pieces, scattered on the floor in shards, all broken, a mirror of the state of your heart.

You stood in your place, stuck and frozen, unable to move as your whole world crashed and burst into flames. Everything you've ever known about your relationship, about him, all were thrown out the window, value reduced to nothing.

The worst nightmare that you've conjured in your head ended up being a reality. The nagging voice that you kept hearing over and over was right all along.

It was a matter of time for Tom to appear. You knew he heard the glasses breaking as you left the door ajar, and surely enough he came rushing in with a worried look on his face, eyes landing on your tear-coated face to the broken glass around your feet.

"Darling are you hurt? What happened?" he asked, the most he's been concerned of your being since the day it all changed.

Before he could take another step closer, you held a hand up, Tom stopping in his tracks, his concern replaced by confusion. "Tom, where were you last night?" you questioned again, hoping that he'll finally have some kind of remorse, but he didn't, he kept on his lies.

"I already told you, I was with Harry writin—"

"You weren't," you cut him off, the hurt in your voice crystal clear. "Sorry?" he asked, still confused, still unaware that you already know the truth. There was no beating around the bush anymore, you just couldn't take it for much longer. Head turning to look at him straight in the eyes, you stated bluntly,

"I was with Harry and Sam last night, you weren't."

Tom's whole face drained out of color, lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at you with guilt, and that's when you stared right at the face of a caught man.

Your lips trembled as you painfully held his gaze. Those brown eyes... looking at those brown used to fill you up with so much warmth, made you feel safe, loved. But now, you just felt betrayed, so betrayed.

"Who is she?"

Tom shook his head hurriedly, brows knitted together at your accusation. "What? There's no one—"

"Tom, please, don't make it hurt some more by lying to my face," you sobbed as you shook your head at him. He looked away at that, the pain in your eyes too much for him to handle, especially with the way your voice was filled with so much sorrow, all because of him.

"Who is she?" you asked again, firmer this time, the slight growl in your voice making Tom's head snapped back at you.

His frown deepened when his eyes fell on the floor for a second before it landed back on your face. "Darling please move away from there, you're going to get hurt," he coaxed, his heart hammering hard against his chest, thoughts a jumbled mess in his head as he watched you break little by little in front of him.

"Tom," you pleaded, not wanting to stall anymore, hands balling into fists as more tears ran down your face, each one dropping on the ground with a silent thump. Tom held his hands up in surrender as he nodded, "Just move away from the broken glass first, please Y/N."

You took a deep, shaky breath to try and rid of the anger, to try and be rational as you moved, stepping over the shards of glass with caution before fully facing him, keeping a much needed distance for you to stay sane.

Silence rang in the room as you waited for him to speak, to let the truth out because there was nowhere to hide anymore. Tom saw this in your eyes, how you just wanted honesty, so he swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes holding your gaze as his heart felt heavier.

"I met her at the press junket for Onward..." he trailed off, voice merely above a whisper but the words tasted vile against Tom's tongue, heart breaking, guilt overflowing once you let out a broken whimper.

You looked away, arms crossing over your chest in mere defense, and piece by piece, it all fell into place, the puzzle completed.

All those weeks of asking why he's been acting the way he is, cold and distant. Just asking why he hasn't given you any affection aside from the small hugs and barely-there kisses on the cheek. All the days questioning why he wouldn't touch you the way he used to, show you how much he loves you and now, well, now you know why.

He was giving it to someone else, showing it to someone else, fucking someone else and it hurts, cruelly it hurts.

Although some questions were now answered, a few more grew, like a hydra, cut off one head and two more shall grow.

Your heart was in deep, excruciating pain, head full of even more questions, full of why's, but something in you clicked, like a switch turning off as the anger left your body, as you slowly went numb.

"Please say something," Tom whispered, voice strained, and you can see how his hands were twitching, itching to reach for you, to hold you, but the look you were giving him was an enough hint for him to keep his distance.

"What do you want me to say?" you whispered, ever so softly as you screwed your eyes shut, the tears never ceasing to run down your already wet cheeks.

And the way that there was no anger in your voice anymore, just pure pain, it scared Tom, the dread starting to consume him. He knows you, he knows how much you blame yourself for the things you have no fault in, and he was sure you were blaming yourself right at this moment.

"Yell at me, curse me out, fucking hell, punch me in the face, anything. Please don't bottle it up," he begged, taking one step closer, and you stood in your place as you felt yourself shut down, brain closing off as well as your heart.

With a deep breath, you met his brown orbs again with a sad smile. "It's okay Tom."

That's when the tears brimmed in Tom's eyes, because that's when he knew. That was the tell-tale sign that you were done, that you weren't going to put up a fight anymore.

It was that moment when Tom knew that you've given up on the relationship, given up on him.

Flashes of memories clouded his vision, both good and bad. Then it was like he watched himself in third person as he came into terms as to how he treated you so badly for the past month and half.

It was like a big punch in the face as he was reminded of all the rotten and sinful things he's done, right at your face but especially behind your back.

How has he managed to become such a monster? A poor excuse of a man?

"It's not oka—"

"I just—I-I'm just going to leave," you ducked your head low and attempted to walk past him, but Tom was quick to grab your arm, turning you back around to face him.

"No, darling please, let me have it, blame me, please, be angry at me. This is all on me Y/N," Tom's lips trembled as he spoke, his shaking fingers interlacing with yours. His were eyes boring deep into your pain-filled orbs, just trying to find any sort of direction, because he has no clue on what to do anymore, no idea on how to fix things, if it was even fixable at this point.

"Tom, it's okay—"

"Stop saying that! You know it's not fucking okay!" Tom cried, his pink cheeks turning damp as he looked at you with so many emotions. There was the guilt, the regret, the hurt, and the fear, but most of those emotions are felt when everything is already too late.

And it was.

You let go of his hand and brought it up to cup his face, thumb grazing his skin sweetly as you gave him a small smile.

This made Tom cry harder. You were such a sweetheart, a kind soul, and the fact that he took advantage of that, the fact that he broke your precious heart when you did nothing but love him unconditionally, Tom wanted to beat himself up until he's all knocked out.

"You already made your choice Tom, and now, I think it's time I make mine," you said softly. The way that you were being so calm about this was unbearable. It was like you're taking the hit like you deserved it, and this was making Tom feel even more disgusted at himself than he already is.

"What is your choice?" Tom held his breath, waiting for the worst case scenario as he leaned into your touch, not knowing if he'll ever feel it again after this.

"Me."

You didn't need to explain yourself, and you saw it in his eyes that he understood. For the month that he's changed, you were so patient with him, always thought about what he feels, making excuses for him and seeing it in his perspective. But now, it was time for you to think about your own feelings too, to think what's best for you, to put yourself first.

Now, you were choosing yourself.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking asshole, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this," Tom sobbed, words repeating over and over, realising deep inside how much he's wasted your love, how much he's thrown away, and the reason wasn't even worth it, he threw it all for nothing. He dropped his head, feeling too ashamed of himself, he was so revolted by what he's become, all the things he done.

You let out a soft sob, both hands now holding his face as you slowly lifted his head back up. "Be happy, that's all I want for you," you said, and you meant it.

You were surprised yourself how you don't feel much resentment. Maybe it was how strong your love was for him, or maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet, but you do mean it. You still want him to be happy, with whatever choice he has to make next.

"You know I don't deserve that," Tom whimpered with a shake of his head, bottom lip quivering as the pain he felt only magnified from there.

You didn't respond to that anymore, knowing that it was time to go, that you needed to go. What you did next just broke Tom's heart even more. You leaned closer, your lips feeling warm against his forehead, pulling away as you stared into his brown eyes with a broken smile on your lips, and you whispered, oh so tenderly,

"I love you."

Tom didn't get to say another word, didn't get a chance too as you took his hands, gave it one last squeeze before making your way out the room.

He stood there, incapable of moving, mind lost, his heart all broken, and when he heard the front door slam shut, that's when everything finally came into light, the weight of his actions, the weight of his choices.

Tom turned towards his bedside table, treading slowly to avoid the glass. With the phone in hand, he turned it on. He felt himself grimace at the message that he assumed you read, such a vile and revolting thing, what he did. But it was unimportant to him now as he closed it, the screen now cleared.

A soft whimper came out of his lips as he stared at the screen, you and Tessa staring right back at him, your smile bright with so much joy and light covering your features. Tom felt so angry at himself knowing that he caused that smile to disappear, that he was the reason why the light has been snuffed out of you.

It's so ironic how realization always comes too late, because just now does Tom realize how much he's lost, how much he screwed things up. Tom just wasted all those precious years where you did nothing but love him, cherish him, brought him nothing but utter happiness. You made him the best man that he could be, and he destroyed that.

With a gut wrenching scream, Tom threw his phone with all his might, the device hitting the wall with a loud crack. It fell on the floor with a thump just as Tom fell on the bed with a broken sob, face buried in his hands, body trembling with cries.

You were right, Tom already made his choice a month ago, it just happened to be the wrong one, the most disgusting and horrible one. Now he has to suffer with the aftermath, and rightfully so, he deserves it, if not, even more.

Because the choices we make, no matter how little it may be, they will always have consequences, and those consequences you will have to deal with, even if it's bad, even if it hurts.

Tom made a choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

-:-:-:-:-

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juletheghoul · 4 years ago

Text

Mysticus Chapter 5

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: SMUT NSFW 18+ PIV sex (wrap it up) dirty talk

It's smut time y'all - only 1 bed (my favourite cliché lol) hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

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Things between you and Ezra were strange. There was electricity in the air, a charge to your interactions. Between his ever present secret smile, and his closeness, you had the feeling he was in on something and you were always just outside of it.

You had a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you knew, you had the inklings inside you of a massive truth but you kept running away from it. Perhaps it influenced you into driving until the exhaustion caught up to you and he was just following your lead. He was always following your lead.

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

“Sorry, the motel is being renovated and most of the rooms are out of commission, all we have left are single bed rooms.” The motel attendant told you lazily, she didn’t seem all that sorry. You felt flustered but Ezra turned on the charm.

“My sincerest thanks miss, we’ll do just fine with whichever room you have available. Can I surmise that there is a sofa in said room?” He smiled taking the key she held out. She nodded as she filled out some paperwork and took the cash he laid on the table.

You wanted to pull him aside and tell him that you could keep looking but you were so tired.

So you went along with it and decided that it was just sleep and you’d figure it out once you saw what you were working with.

“My apologies for taking the lead back there Birdie. Please do not take this as an attempt to coerce you into an unsavory position with me. I am just dead on my feet, and of course, the bed will be for you. I am content with the sofa, and if you are truly unhappy then we will pack up tomorrow morning bright and early and set off in search for more acceptable accommodations.” He told you as you opened up the door into the room he’d paid for.

You could see how tired he was, the deep brown eyes which were usually lively and bright were half closed, dark circles underneath. You were both grown adults, you weren’t about to let him sleep on the sofa which looked like a pile of rags wrapped in fabric.

“Hey it’s okay, the bed looks big enough and we’re both dead tired. Nothing wrong with sharing the bed. Here – go shower before you pass out.” You handed him the toiletry bag and guided him to the bathroom. He tried to complain but you shushed him and firmly pushed him into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Okay. This is fine. You’re a grown-ass woman and this isn’t the 1800’s, you weren’t some blushing bride coming to the marriage bed. You practically slept on top of him in the Jeep not long ago.

You decided to take the dog out to do her business quickly to distract yourself. Ten minutes later you were back in the hotel room and Ezra was hanging up his towel and getting into bed. You could smell the body wash you both shared and the faint smell of toothpaste as he smiled weakly and got himself settled. The dog climbed up on the foot of the bed by his feet and made herself comfortable as he read a couple of pages of the tattered book he carried around.

You took a little longer than usual, hoping that by the time you got into bed he’d be asleep. Once you opened up the door, feeling clean and fresh but significantly more nervous than was necessary you saw that the lights were off and Ezra was facing away from you.

Okay.

This is good, just have to slip into bed and go to sleep.

Getting into the bed and settling on your back, it felt as though you were lying next to a livewire. His breathing was soft and slow but you knew he wasn’t asleep. You closed your eyes trying to concentrate but your senses felt amplified.

Everything in you wanted to turn over and wrap your arms around him, bury your face into the back of his neck while wrapping your leg over his hip. For a wild moment you thought you might just do it but he cleared his throat quietly and it snapped you out of your temporary hysteria.

“You keep forgetting how loud you think Birdie.” He spoke in a low sleepy voice which shot straight to your core.

“Sorry.” Was all you say, you turned on your side facing away from him hoping that somehow your thoughts would be quieter on your side? The dog, unhappy with the amount of noise the both of you were making got up and walked to the other side of the small room and went to sleep on the floor with a huff. You felt him turn to face your back and you felt as though your stomach dropped. Why were you so nervous?

“Are you alright Birdie? Is there anything you need?” The low question put some very explicit images into your mind and hard as you tried to push them away they persisted. It felt as though your body was on fire, the soft material of your simple pjs was somehow too rough. You could swear you felt his breath moving the hairs on the back of your neck and as you imagined him scooting over and kissing you there you shivered.

“I-I’m cold.” You lied. You weren’t cold, you were aroused. Painfully so.

“Would you be agreeable to sharing body heat? If not, I can get you one of my more substantial sweaters.” He asked in what you knew was supposed to be an innocent tone but there was something darker underneath. Something hopeful.

“Uh-sure. Just for a little bit.” You responded, biting your lip and letting him come to you. You felt the bed move slightly as he moved towards you – reaching his arm and draping it over your stomach before he very decisively pulled you close to him. He tucked you under his arm with his head buried into the back of your neck precisely where you wanted him. His minty breath ghosted along your neck, fanning the flames already burning brightly within your body.

He felt solid behind you as he tangled his legs with yours and placed his hand firmly above your stomach, right below your breasts. Breathing was hard, especially when he moved your damp hair out of his face and pressed himself right into the crook of your neck. Lips right at the shell of your ear.

“How’s this Birdie? Are you warm?” he spoke in a low voice and the proximity of his mouth next to your ear made your cunt clench. You could almost hear him smiling behind you, obviously aware of exactly what he was doing to you. Any thoughts you had of sleep vanished instantly.

“Y-yes, I’m warm, thank you.” You responded, almost whispering. You unconsciously wiggled back to get more comfortable and you realized that you weren’t the only one affected by the close contact. The proof of it currently pressing into the curve of your ass. Your eyes widened and you weren’t sure what it was but you got a burst of courage and slowly wiggled against him again in a way that suggested that you knew exactly what you were doing. You not only heard, but felt him groan softly.

“Birdie, you might think you have some vague idea about what you do to me but I assure you that you do not.” He breathed into your ear as you felt his hand softly start to rub circles into the skin near your ribs, your shirt moving up a tiny bit with every stroke. You felt restless, wanting to take his hand and move it where you needed it. You felt like your whole body was charged with want, and he could feel it.

“Speak to me Birdie, tell me exactly what is it you need.” He whispered into your ear as he started to leave soft little kisses around it and down your neck, slowly making his way to your shoulder. You whimpered as you felt your arousal starting to leak out of you. You felt painfully empty. Being alone for so long meant you were no stranger to arousal and satisfying yourself but this was something different. What was he doing to you?

“I want to hear you Birdie, tell me to stop, push me away from your glorious heat and I will lick my wounds away from you in peace.” He kept kissing your shoulder, biting softly, briefly moving his hand away from your stomach to pull the collar of your shirt to the side. Giving himself access to more of your skin. You whimpered at the loss of contact but he promptly put his hand back where it was, this time moving your shirt away from your body so he could touch the soft skin of your belly.

“Please Ezra – touch me.” You almost whispered as if speaking too loudly might break the spell. His hand moved up excruciatingly slow until he cupped your breast, your nipple painfully hard in the palm of his hand. He bit your ear as he rubbed little circles around your nipple, pinching lightly causing you to whimper as you raised your arm to grab the back of his head. Finally satisfying the ever-present urge to run your fingers through his hair.

“You cannot know how I’ve longed to hear you say those words to me.” He spoke in a low voice, moving his attention to your other nipple as you turned to find his mouth feeling as though if you didn’t kiss him right then and there you’d die.

His mouth found yours hungrily and it tasted like home. His tongue probing, asking for permission which you gladly granted. Meanwhile his hand slid down your stomach and turned your body slightly giving himself more access. He grabbed at your thigh and placed your leg over his body opening you up in order to reach into your soft sleep shorts.

He kissed you almost painfully as he parted your folds to rub soft little circles on your clit. You both moaned into the kiss, you at the feeling of his fingers driving you into a frenzy, and him at feeling exactly how wet you were. He licked the inside of your mouth and kissed you as though he’d been doing it his whole life while his fingers brought you closer and closer to release.

The coil low in your belly winding tighter and tighter as he moved to your opening, dipping a finger into you to collect more of your wetness; bringing it back up to your clit. The wet glide of his finger threatened to throw you over the edge.

“I want you to cum just like this Birdie. Look at me, I want to witness nirvana on this pretty face.” He stared you as the coil snapped and you came all at once, your walls clenching painfully around nothing.

Moaning out his name and seeking his mouth again before he sat up and shed the loose boxers he was wearing as you scrambled to get your shorts off. You were desperate to feel him as you made room for him between your legs.

His cock curved up towards his stomach and you saw the angry red tip glistening with precum. You licked your lips at the thought of tasting him. He hovered above you kissing you softly.

“Birdie, I ache for you, can you sense it? Do you have any idea how much I think about this cunt? I often find myself imagining you like this, spread out flushed and begging for me. This must be a dream..” he trailed off as he pulled your shirt up and took your nipple into his mouth.

Biting softly and making you moan out his name as you ran your fingers through his hair gripping him tightly to your chest. He pulled away and blew onto the stiff peak and you bit your lip.

“No Birdie, none of that, I will hear your pleasure. Tell me what you want, tell me how good I make you feel.” He said as he moved to give your other breast the same attention.

“It feels so good, I want you Ezra, I need you to fuck me, please...” You said breathlessly, blushing fiercely and he looked almost pained at hearing you say it.

“I am in such a frenzy for you birdie, or I would really take my time, watch you fall apart continuously. I want to make you cum with my mouth, my fingers, any part of my being that brings you pleasure but I won’t last. There will be time enough for that later.” He said he crawled over you settling between your legs, his cock heavy against your entrance as he wrapped your legs around him, placing them high on his waist.

You felt another wave of slick leak out of you at his words, the stretch of him entering you slowly made easier with how wet you were, you felt so full. He bottomed out and buried his face into your neck, the clean scent of him surrounding you as he brought one hand up to hold your shoulder as the other one held your hip down. Feeling you clench around him he groaned as he stayed motionless, giving you a second to get accustomed to him being fully seated inside you. You pulled off his shirt and then your own, eager to touch more of his skin to yours.

“Birdie you surpass all of my wildest fantasies, so wet and tight for me.” You moaned at his words as he rocked slowly leaving just the tip inside with every stroke. You weren’t a virgin by any means but this was something else, this was how it was supposed to feel and as you gripped his hair tightly you knew you would never settle for anyone else.

“You feel so good Ezra-god- you’re fucking me so good.” It came out without you even thinking about it and he made some truly beautiful sounds in your ear to hear you. You raked your hands down his back, wanting him closer and he groaned.

“Please.. please - god.. harder” He reached down between your bodies to rub perfect those perfect little circles on your clit as he picked up the pace.

“One more for me Birdie, cum all over me, I want to fuck you while you fall apart.” His voice was gravelly and as he took your nipple in his mouth again you came.

It was almost painful how hard it hit you, stars practically bursting in your eyes, and as he felt you fluttering around him he picked up speed, pressing your legs up higher to get deeper, fucking you through your high. The obscene, wet noises your joining was spurring him on, making him almost feral.

“Listen to how wet I make you Birdie, music to my ears, where Birdie, where?” He was getting frantic, about to pull out but you locked your legs around his back to keep him inside.

“Inside me, birth control” he groaned loudly as he stilled, cumming inside you, you felt his cock twitch as he filled you up, pumping erratically, his cum spilling out of you and onto the bed. You couldn’t be bothered to care as he collapsed onto your chest.

The heavy weight of him was comforting as you rubbed soothing little circles onto his back while he laid there still buried inside. As you felt him snoring softly in the crook of your neck with his cum continuing to leak out of you, you realized there was no fucking way you’d ever look for separate beds again.

When he woke up a few hours later still on top of you he was almost embarrassed, it hadn’t bothered you one bit. You used the time he slept soundly on your chest to really take him in, running the pads of your fingers over the strong curve of his nose, his full bottom lip, the scar on his cheek.

You wondered how he got it, you could almost feel the wound on your own face and you were momentarily heartbroken for him. You imagined him as a little boy crying out and your heart hurt. Pushing it out of your mind you continued your exploration, travelling the miles of his golden skin with your hands. Lulling him into a deeper sleep within the safe space of your body.

A startling realization hit you as you softly kissed his forehead, smoothing his unruly hair away. You’d been numb to the world before he joined you, he felt so familiar, so essential to you now that you had him so close.

Clenching around him involuntarily you saw his brows knit briefly and it made you smile. He looked so much younger asleep, the lines on his face smoothed away. Part of you wished you could stay like this always. You’d been dead on your feet, same as him when you arrived but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, a hysterical fear gripped you - almost letting you believe that if you closed your eyes you’d wake up to it all having been a dream.

You squeezed him so tight that he woke up.

“My sincerest apologies Birdie, how absolutely insensitive of me to use you thus.” He kissed you softly as he pulled out and moved beside you. Before you could mourn the loss of his heat he pulled you close to him so you could drape yourself across his body. He took your hand in his and brought it up to kiss your palm, he traced the outline of the mark on your palm smiling slightly.

“I’m not upset, you were so tired and it was comfortable.” You answered as he kissed the mark again, he smiled at you sheepishly.

“It did not distress you to have me comatose holding you hostage?” He turned so you both faced each other. The both of you lying there naked in the dark staring at each other felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“I must confess Birdie, I have never in all my years slept so soundly, you may have spoiled me letting me carry on like that.” He pulled you closer so your foreheads rested against each other.

“You snored.” You laughed, kissing him softly before turning around so he was spooning you again.

“Baseless lies I say.” He playfully pinched your side and you slapped him lightly.

“You absolutely did, but it was nice. Kind of soothing. Now I’m getting tired.” You admitted, your eyes getting heavier and heavier. He pulled the blanket up tighter around you and settled his face into your hair breathing you in.

“Sleep Birdie, we have all the time in the world.” You vaguely felt him softly stroking your arm as you drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

It was so hard to get out of bed the next morning, every time you got up he pulled you back in, kissing you into submission. Kissing you breathless. Eventually you had to smack his hands away just so you could quickly take the dog outside. Once you came back in though he ambushed you taking your clothes off and throwing you back in bed, wasting no time in slipping back into you. Your love making a little slower this time, a little more intense, soft groans and heavy sighs from both of you when you both reached your peak. So it went the whole morning; by late afternoon you were starving.

“Don’t you dare move Birdie, I’m not nearly finished with you yet.” His tone sent shivers down your spine and as much as you needed a break and a shower you were excited for him to come back. You walked to the bathroom and the reflection in the mirror startled you. Your lips were puffy from kissing, your hair a disaster, little hickeys trailed down your neck and over your breasts.

You looked thoroughly satisfied and you were. You smiled the whole time you showered, you smiled as you towel dried your hair, and you smiled as he walked through the door.

The dog jumped up to greet him when he walked through the door and he smiled and pet her affectionately, his eyes quickly scanning to find you.

You still wore the smile and he looked at you as though you were the sun. You felt the excitement in your stomach, still nervous even though it felt like you’d had sex countless times.

Your mind produced the image of him looking up at you as he took your nipple into his mouth and you felt the spike of arousal hit you, making you blush. His smile held something else now, as if he could see exactly what you were seeing and he winked at you.

“Come Birdie, let us eat, and then I can get back to where I truly want to be.” The ‘in between your legs’ was implied, you felt the wetness pooling at your opening at his words. You wanted him again, but that could wait. You had so much time.

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