#Ghost x Hawk

[cannedmuffins]

I needed a older more exhausted Daddy Simon so I added 2 more children to Ghost and Hawk’s family (I also used references of Samuel Roukin for his look here 👀).

Little treat under the cut to match the last Daddy Simon post

He’ll always have that dog in him

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

See My Scars - Ghost x Hawk Scene

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (Original Character)

A/N: Short scene from later in Simon + Wren's story. Takes place in Russia after the 141 finds out Graves has been smuggling weapons for Makarov. Graves takes Wren hostage and tortures her, Simon comes to her rescue, and Wren kills Graves. Simon and Wren have a heart-to-heart one night following, and suddenly they're confessing. Then they're kissing. Here's what happens next...

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Injuries/Scars, Military Themes (Call of Duty), Mentioned Torture (past, by Graves), Implied Abuse (past, by Graves), Mentions of Simon’s Past, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Swearing, Implied NSFW

It was all a blur when he laid her down, large hands surprisingly gentle with her small, bruised frame. She saw him pause… hesitation? She draws her knees up to her chest and waits patiently, her own nerves beginning to get the better of her. 

Shit, this was a mistake, I - 

Her breath stops when she meets his gaze. He peers down at her, eyes dark and intense, a great strength suppressed between his taught shoulders. “Y’sure you want to do this, Wren?”

His voice is deep, gravelly. She’d be lying if it didn’t turn her on, but she knows the weight of what they’re about to do - she knows they can’t go back.

Maybe I don’t want to go back, a voice screams inside of her, threatening to burst out her chest as she nods slowly, replacing all the things she wishes she could say with a single, ‘yes.’

He hums in acknowledgement and crawls toward her, hands gingerly beginning to explore. He rubs at her sides, her shoulders, and commits each freckle and blemish on her face to memory. His finger draws a line up her jaw and comes to rest on her cheek, right underneath the gash Graves had just given her. She flinches at the contact, despite how gentle it is, as his finger ghosts over dried blood and traces the shape of the gash all the way from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her eye.

His gaze is cold, unwavering as he studies it. She feels him tense up ever so slightly, and for a moment she’s worried he’s gotten cold feet, but he growls lowly and shifts his deep brown eyes to meet hers.

“Fucker had it coming. If you hadn’t killed him, I would’ve.”

“Simon,” she sighs, bringing her hand up to rest over his on her cheek, tiny fingers drawing in comparison to his. He grunts and shakes his head. She’s still reeling over the loss of him - of Phillip - and he knows that. But that wouldn’t make him forgive what Graves did to her.

“I would’ve.”

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning her head into his hand. His eyes soften, though they keep their dark, almost hungry hue. Then he kisses the bridge of her nose, right where the scar began, and dips his head to her neck, softly mouthing at the exposed skin.

His lips on hers earlier that night had been one thing, but his lips on her body now… a heat she’d long forgotten about rose slowly in her core, her breathing hastening as his hands tug at the bottom of her shirt. Simon moves slowly, carefully, because he knows how fragile she is right now.

He wasn’t prepared for the mess of bruises that adorn her chest and ribs, deep purple tones splotched over skin that was far too perfect to be hurt.

His breath hitches when he sees them - all of them - staining the skin of his woman. He tenses again, repressing his anger. Wren recoils out of nervousness, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, and Simon panics, quickly extending his hand out to her. He doesn’t know how to handle this, how to treat her… and he’s scared.

“Graves did this to you?” Simon utters, frozen in place, a deep hatred slowly bubbling up and conflicting with his fear of scaring Wren off.

“Not all of it,” she replies, voice low and somber. “But, most, yeah.”

“Did he… touch you?” He tries with every fiber of his being to keep his voice restrained, but Simon had never been too good at dealing with anger. He could repress it, sure, but that was what always drove so many people away - he was cold, aloof, unapproachable. And when his feelings were now so strong, so overwhelming, all his instincts tell him to run away, to isolate and compartmentalize.

But he knows, maybe painfully so, that deep down he doesn’t want that. He wants her. So he stays, and he waits with tense shoulders and a clenched fist.

“No. Wouldn’t let him.” Her voice trails off as she tries desperately to read his gaze, cursing each blemish that greeted Simon so prominently. Simon breathes a noticeable sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes softening. If she looks hard enough, she swears she can see the wetness of tears in the very corners of his eyes, mixing with the remainder of the eyeblack he just couldn’t wash off at this point. She sighs. “I know they’re not pretty. If you don’t-”

“Wren.”

Her eyes snap up to watch him wordlessly undress, his huge hands lingering on the hem of his shirt before slowly pulling it over his head. He stops about halfway through, his hand shaking as he holds the fabric just over his ribs and holds her gaze silently - watching, waiting, debating.

Then he hesitantly pulls the fabric completely up to reveal a long, dark gash across his right rib cage that had never quite healed right. The skin was patched with ridges and divots, dark red marks adorning the mottled skin.

“Hung,” he explains. “Mexican cartel. Corrupted an old captain of mine. I won’t burden you with the details.”

“Si…”

“All these burns,” he nods to each red splotch, so numerous and concentrated that there was hardly any untouched skin there, “Field burns. Or cigarette burns… from my father. This,” he opens up his right hand to reveal a long slit with what looked like scars from stitches, “was from digging out. When I was buried alive with ‘em. Used his jawbone and it fucked up my hand.”

She tries hard to hold back tears - Simon never spoke much about his past. She knew things, of course, but not when he was this vulnerable. But he holds her gaze, and it's intense.

“And everything else? Wren, I have been beaten and shot and stabbed and fucked - if you think I’m going to be bothered by some marks, then I’m a goddamn hypocrite and you’re out of your fucking mind.”

She quirks her lips up into a sad smile, reaching her hand out and beginning to trace each mark on his chest. “Si… ‘M sorry all that happened. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t need to say anything, Little Bird,” he grunts, leaning back down and catching her lips once more. “Just have me.”

And she did.

[connorsui]

"How beautiful was she?"

"Was? ...please ..she is beautiful, but not like those girls in magazines. She is beautiful, for the way she thinks, She is beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she speaks about anything she loves. She is beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She is beautiful, deep down to her soul ....

She is the love of my life"

The man: Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, John Price, Jason Todd, Sam Winchester, Higuruma Hiromi, Halsin, Astarion Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, Levi Ackerman, Simon Riley, Johnny Mactavish, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Dabi, Hawks, Rafayel, Cooper Howard, Logan Howlett, Aemond, Nikto,

[luc1-anna]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Of course he'd go slow at first, making sure he didn't cause you to bleed or get hurt, especially since he was so big, having to only put in a few inches along with the tip to get started, knowing he would stretch you out to the max, it may be pleasure to other women but it would only be painful for you.

Hands gripping onto your hips as he gently put it in, making sure he knew how much he could put in, analysing your facial expressions for any discomfort. Soon as you give him the greenlight to go faster, he takes charge, thrusting his hips into yours, watching as your body reacted to his movements, body jolting back and forward on the bed. "Babe!" Moaning out as you tried to grab his forearm, feeling the tight sensation of a knot forming in your body. Of course he didn't stop, not till you showed some form of pain or telling him the straight words of no.

ɴᴏᴀʏᴀ, ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ, ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏᴜʀ, ᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴛᴀɪᴊᴜ, ꜱᴀɴᴇᴍɪ

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐

He let you ride him for the first time, watching as you grabbed his cock, fingers digging into the base as you descended onto it, the way his tip felt along your lips, only wanting for you to fuck him till you cried. Hands helping your body move up and down, making sure not to go too hard but not to slow, just to his liking if not a little slower. Watching as you moaned, seeing how good he made you feel, especially on your first time, knowing that no sex toy or fingers made you feel better than him. "Get off me whenever you need" reassuring you as he felt you clench around him, nodding as a reflex, it just coming through one and ear and back out the other.

ᴊᴇᴀɴ, ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ, ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ, ᴇʀᴡɪɴ, ᴢᴇᴋᴇ, ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ, ᴀɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ, ꜱɪʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴇʏᴇ

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Of course he'd go nice and slow for you, it had been atleast 25 minutes of foreplay just to get you wet enough, being scared that he'd rio you open from his size in comparison to your tight virgin hole. Sat on the bed, legs wide open, head placed strategically in-between them as licked his lips, hands holding your legs down making sure you didn't escape. He wanted you to sit on his face but anything would really do. Tongue gliding along your clit, rubbing it throughout your folds. The way you jerked your body back from the first feeling. "I'll take good care of you!" Smiling as he looked up before heading back down, face nuzzled in-between your thighs, he seemed so innocent when he said that, but you knew that he wasn't from the way his tongue entered you, lips sucking your liquids from your cunt, feelings your walls try and reject him as he pushed through, fingers running through his hair as you felt him. This would be in your record books for some of the best oral sex, despite it being your first time.

ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ, ᴀʀᴍɪɴ, ɪɴᴏ, ɢɪʏᴜ, ɢᴀᴢ, ꜱʜɪɢɪʀᴀᴋɪ, ꜱʜɪᴜ ᴋᴏɴɢ, ʀᴀɴ, ᴋᴇɪꜱʜɪɴ ᴜᴋᴀɪ, ɢᴏᴊᴏ

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒

Your first time was in a semi public place, curtains drawn open as he fingered you, fingers plowing through your slick walls, his spare hand rubbing your poor clit, the way you sat on his knee as he fucked you for the first time, taking your dignity along with your virginity. Head resting onto his shoulder as he filled your poor cunnie with his calloused 3 fingers, breath harshly touching his clothes neck. "Keep still" feeling your thighs clench around his hand, it was getting on his nerves as it restricted his movements. Slapping your clit with his other hand, watching as you shuddered and screamed into his ear, glancing towards the open window incase anyone heard you. His hand getting cramped up from the fast movement, ripping it out from your hole, watching the string of you run along your pussy. "Ya' taste good for your first time" licking his fingers clean, the way your juices stuck to his fingers, leaving a string of your wetness. Other hand still slapping your poor cunt.

ᴇʀᴇɴ, ᴘᴏʀᴄᴏ, ᴛᴏᴊɪ, ᴅᴀʙɪ, ʜᴀᴡᴋꜱ, ʜᴀɴᴍᴀ, ʀɪɴᴅᴏᴜ, ᴜᴢᴜɪ ᴛᴇɴɢᴇɴ, ᴋᴀꜱʜɪᴍᴏ, ɢᴇᴛᴏ, ᴘʜɪʟɪᴘ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ

Banner credits to @cafekitsune

[kacievvbbbb]

You ever think about how Mihawk definitely does not hear his name alot?

Like there are probably only 2 people in the entire world that consistently refer to him by name. To the rest of the world he’s just an epithet. He might as well have no real name for as little as he hears it.

He’ll hear it at introductions always preface by his epithet, he’ll see it in the bounty posters and notice it in the history books. But barely anyone will ever calm him that. Just a pink headed ghost girl and the red headed half of the most complicated situationship panning 20 years.

You ever think about how Shanks probably has a thousand and one nicknames for Mihawk he cycles through at a whim but maybe Mihawk’s favorite will always be the soft way in which Shanks calls out his given name like that’s all there is too it like there’s a Mihawk that exists all on its own. No matter the situation Shanks calls him Mihawk and he has his full attention

[x-x-nyctophilia-writes-x-x]

I haven't posted anything in a good long while, so I've decided to put out a wip that I'm probably never actually gonna finish, because I left it alone for so long that I forgot the ending. 👍

Smut, 18+, mdni

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

You were a mess. Panting, sweating, shaking. You'd lost track of how many times he'd made you cum. He'd pulled out and sat back to admire the view before cleaning you up, but now he was completely entranced, staring at your body.

Your sex, still glistening with slick. He'd sworn that he was done for the night, but the sight of you made his cock twitch. He was down on his knees, between your spread legs. You could feel his breath on you, making you shudder. The anticipation was almost enough to make you cry.

“This puffy, drooly little cunt is just begging to be fucked, yeah?” He said in a hoarse whisper. It'd been mostly to himself, but you nodded along anyway, mewling out a quiet little “please”.

He loved this. Loved how pathetic he could make you. The way you whined and begged for him. The way you squirmed underneath him. The way you grasped at him, like he was the the only thing keeping you tethered to the world, because he was. He was the only thing your cock-addled mind could process, because he'd fucked everything else out.

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

This is my first time posting smut, so please be kind. I hope you all enjoyed it.

I honestly don't even remember who I was originally writing this for, so I'm just gonna tag it with some guys I like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[price-is-dreamy]

[questioningmyexistence432]

'ʟᴀᴛᴇ.'

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

he’d wait - flip his whole schedule on its axis just to be one of the first few to watch your videos as soon as you posted them. hell, he almost came untouched the one time he was the first person to join your livestream. it was addictive. you were addicted. everything about you was addictive to him. 

he wanted you so badly - wanted to know who you were under that measly mask you wore in your videos - not that it didn’t turn him on. it definitely did. but, he watched your content - knew exactly how your moans sounded when you fucked yourself dumb on whatever new toys you bought with the money he(and others) sent in. watching as you bounced on the new dildo you received- he bought the one closest resembling his cock. your wishlist was truly a magical thing, he had decided. he imagined you riding him like that - throwing his head back with a groan at the mere thought. he made it a competition to send you the most - no one coming close to him in that regard. hearing his name come from your lips while you thanked him for the donation - he clipped that part and played it on repeat. a sure way to send him straight over the edge. 

he’d grumble to himself and get snappy on the one day you had decided to post late - he turned his life upside down for you and now you decide to be late? his lips curled into a snarl as he continued to refresh the page - waiting to see a new video. he thought about all the things he’d do to you if he could only get his hands on you…

[jayfey-anime]

My oc and hawks lol

[kyunzin]

✰𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒✰

𝐈𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 ����𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐊𝐞𝐲：𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 | 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 | 𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀

bsf!katsuki has fun with you at a party (fem!, nsfw)

taking home a brat!hawks to play with (fem!, dom!, nsfw)

virgin!simon (fem!reader, nsfw)

after nanami’s shift (sfw, black!fem!reader)

what did you say- nanami, choso, sukuna, geto, gojo, toji (nsfw….)

last updated 27.4.24

[cannedmuffins]

Daddy Simon 💕

Bonus:

Daddy Ghost 👻

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

Silhouettes & Songbirds // a Modern Warfare Story - Chapter 1

Pairings (Eventual): Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (Original Character)

Tags: Military Themes (Call of Duty), Canon-Typical Swearing, Implied Abuse (Past, by Graves)

A/N: I am so excited to FINALLY have this OUT!! Hope y'all love it <3 Looks like Tumblr also crushed my image quality so yay

Kate Laswell folded her hands neatly on the worn-out desk as she eyes the Captain. The scruffy man held his stance, blue eyes unwavering as he only nodded in encouragement. John Price was nothing if not persistent, and the CIA agent knew better than to question him.

“Fine, but I want Sergeant Yarrow on the team. And I’m not asking.” Her tone was low, but it pierced the room nonetheless with the compromise.

Price grunted softly. “You think she’s solid after being back in Urzikstan?”

“She will be if she has to be.” Laswell’s answer was resolute, and she held his gaze as she squared her shoulders. There was no room for negotiation here. Price was silent as he took a long drag from his cigar in contemplation.

“Thought that last assignment was a one-off for her. That PMC really fucked her up.”

Laswell sighed. “We need her, John. Are your men really any better?”

“…Everyone’s got their problems, Kate.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn't ask. As much as she disliked the risk of a special operations endeavor with current international relations, she couldn’t deny that Price was right - Al Qatala needed handling. She sighed briefly and nodded in acknowledgment.

“What are you calling this task force?”

“141.”

—

A young woman sighed as she gazed out the window. It was a nice day in Rye, East Sussex… she wished she could enjoy it more than she did. For as long as she’d spent off the force, she never thought she’d get used to civilian life. Wren Yarrow was a creature of habit, of constant direction and purpose.

She was a creature of Shadow Company… of Phillip Graves.

There was no meaning in daily tasks that were surely obsolete. Sure, it was a routine, one she clung to at that, but it was nothing more. It was something she did mindlessly, day after day after fucking day.

She felt pathetic - it had been years since her discharge - she should’ve long been over this. And yet, it never seemed to settle for her.

There was always something perfectly boring about living.

More often than she’d like to admit, she found herself reminiscing about her time in Shadow Company… her time with Graves. She wondered if she’d ever stop missing it; missing him…

It was a slow day at the bakery that day. Normally, she found solace in the day to day workings of the store - she could expect the same people every day, she could expect to make the same things…

She thought she knew what she wanted - to come home and run her bakery like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t been called on a whim to ship out to Urzikstan after years of being out of the military.

Life never goes the way you plan it. And she had once again become living proof when Laswell called her that morning just a few months after she had returned home.

“John wants a Task Force. I want you on it.” Short and to the point; Laswell was never much to sugar-coat. Wren could hear the subtle undertones in her voice, though - Kate knows her history, and she knows the weight of her request. Wren knows it damn well, too.

“What’s the situation?”

“Classified. You understand.” She knew that, of course, but it wouldn’t have stopped her from asking.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Wren had accepted the request. Apparently, uprooting her life and business once more was not a concern as she hung a ‘closed indefinitely’ sign for the second time over the front door and rushed upstairs to pack her belongings. Surely, she was insane, grasping at any straw that presented her with some sort of purpose…

When she laid in bed that night, she wondered very briefly if this is what she really wanted, but the cold truth was that Wren didn’t know what she wanted. She thought a civilian life here would suit her, that she’d grow accustomed to the slow pace of lazy mornings and meaningless conversation, but it always left her feeling incomplete - there was no purpose to serve here, just existence.

So she agreed, and she shipped out the next morning.

—

She was grateful her last leave - though it was intended to be permanent - was only half a year, because owning a bakery didn’t exactly do wonders for one’s figure. She fell back into her training fairly easily and adhered to the strict regimen scarily well… she wondered if that deep-rooted need for a routine would ever change about her.

She wondered if she’d ever live normally, if she wasn’t condemned to this life of purgatory and violence. And yet, she craved it still.

She was put back in contact with Captain Price a few weeks into her training, and periodically he’d fly out to evaluate her progress. But, try as she might, no amount of prying would convince the Captain to tell her even the smallest detail of her upcoming mission…

“Need to make sure you’re solid, Sergeant,” he repeated himself for what must have been the dozenth time over the last few weeks. She huffed in moderate displeasement, but returned to her exercises. Price barked out a few more commands in that low, gruff voice she’d only just recently gotten used to once more before straightening up. She slowed from her jog, the difference in his gaze piquing her interest.

“0500 tomorrow. Nik will transport you to a covert location in Urzikstan. We’ll meet and brief there.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask. If there was one thing she’d learned from her time  with the Captain, it was to keep the questions and the bullshit to a minimum.

Kate must have had sympathy for her, because that night she emailed her a heavily encrypted file containing dossiers of each of the Task Force members.

To: Wren Y. (Sgt., Special Forces)

From: Katherine L. (Chief, CIA)

Subject: Dossiers

Don’t tell John I sent you this. [encrypted file]

CIA Station Chief Katherine Laswell

George Bush Center for Intelligence

Langley, Virginia

She read through them without much thought. They were names on a paper, just like all of her Shadow Company comrades had been. She vividly remembered sitting with Philip and sifting through application after application… back when she felt like she could take on the world. When he made her believe she could.

She sighed. Even years later, she wondered if she’d ever quite get over it. Over him. It still nagged at her - she should’ve long been past it, but Wren was always a creature of habit.

She didn’t like change, and there sure had been a lot of it over the last few years. Maybe this time would finally mean something.

She liked the team well enough. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. She knew Price and Gaz already, of course. Soap seemed like an interesting guy, but she made a note to never get on his bad side. All of Ghost’s information was redacted - even his name. It sparked her curiosity, but she knew her place well enough to leave it alone.

She slept well enough that night… It was amazing what a good cup of tequila and a sleeping pill could do.

[connorsui]

You ever read something soo fucking good

that you feel like you are sniffing a line of coke!?

It don't even matter if it's angst or fluff or if it's fucking noncon filled with dead dove do not eat with a side of smut

THAT FIC DESERVES TO NOT ONLY LIVE IN MY BOOKMARKS

BUT BECOME ONE WITH MY CELLS SO IT REPLICATES FOR ETERNITY

[luc1-anna]

𝐀𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬?

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

He loves your breasts, thats why he always wanted you to ride him, getting to see your breasts jiggle as you rode him, the sound of the skin slapping your torso as you went faster, his hands roaming along your body but they always ended up on your tits, groping and kneading them. Occasionally sucking on them, as if he wanted to make you a mum.

He especially loved whenever you wore low cut shirts, or really anything that could show off some cleavage, oh how much he wanted to fuck your tits right there. Cock sliding in and out of your swollen breasts, leaking a bit of milk as they engulfed his thickness. Swollen tip hitting your chin as he pushed further in, acting as a moisturiser for your skin.

ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ, ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ, ᴇʀᴡɪɴ, ᴢᴇᴋᴇ, ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ, ᴀɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ, ꜱɪʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴇʏᴇ, ʀᴇɪɴᴇʀ, ᴊᴇᴀɴ, ᴇʀᴇɴ, ɢᴏᴊᴏ, ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ, ᴀʀᴍɪɴ, ɢɪʏᴜ, ᴋᴇɪꜱʜɪɴ ᴜᴋᴀɪ, ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ, ꜱʜɪɢɪʀᴀᴋɪ, ᴍᴜᴢᴀɴ

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬

Your thighs were like a safe haven for him, always resting his head on them whenever he saw that you were wearing shorts or a skirt. Sometimes he wished that you would suffocate him with the plush muscle. Whenever you two had sex, his main focus would be any position in which he had the best view of your thighs, kneading the fat as he held them. Or, whenever he ate you out, he always made sure you sat on his face. He'd love to die from suffocation from you, gripping onto your thighs, enough to leave a mark. Tongue swirling around your lips, sucking on the small hole which he wished to fuck.

Whenever he was up for teasing, he'd always fuck your thighs, making sure that your underwear were still on before he pushed his cock in that small gap inbetween you thighs.

ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ, ɢᴀᴢ, ᴋᴀꜱʜɪᴍᴏ, ɢᴇᴛᴏ, ꜱʜɪɢɪʀᴀᴋɪ, ʀɪɴᴅᴏᴜ, ʀᴀɴ, ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ, ᴋᴏɴɪɢ

𝐀𝐬𝐬

His ass was your favourite, he'd especially love it if it was big. The way he'd purposely do doggy just to see your ass moved, always slapping it to leave a mark, his hand prints practically being ingrained into your ass. Whenever he'd offer a massage, he'd always make sure to add some 'extra care' onto your ass, it always resulted in him fucking both holes, mainly your ass but still.

Walls trying to retract as he entered your ass, it wasn't the first time he had done this, but it always felt so good feeling you tighten around him, wanting to rip the condom right off his length as gripped onto your ass, making sure that your torso was touching the mattress as you arched further. If he wasn't fucking your ass, he'd be fucking your other hole and putting a sparkly butt plug in it. When he sees you wearing anything short, or just sees you in a private place, he wouldn't hesitate to slap your ass, making sure to add a firm grip onto it.

ᴘʜɪʟɪᴘ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ, ʀᴇɪɴᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀᴄᴏ, ᴛᴏᴊɪ, ɴᴏᴀʏᴀ, ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ, ᴅᴀʙɪ, ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏᴜʀ, ꜱᴀɴᴇᴍɪ, ᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴜᴢᴜɪ ᴛᴇɴɢᴇɴ, ʜᴀɴᴍᴀ, ᴛᴀɪᴊᴜ

Banner credits to @cafekitsune

[lots-of-fandoms-ps-help-me]

Ronan didnt even get through one (1) semester before he decided to go look at apartments in Cambridge to be close to Adam

[mika-writes-fanfics]

So ik you don't usually do hawks but, is it possible for a hurt no comfort one where reader slowly pushes him away for reasons he doesn't know? (Youve been popping up alot on my "for you" and I love your dabi writing) gender netural pronouns Please

Honestly, this is great timing because I’m writing an angsty scene with Hawks in my long fic. I got really inspired by this request so it’s in drabble format. This could be read as either platonic or romantic. I hope I've done your request justice!

Hawks x reader who pushes him away

Tags/warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, pre-established relationship (romantic OR platonic) with Hawks, Hawks/Reader

It’s the second week in a row that you haven’t responded to any of his texts, any of his calls, or even any of his knocks on your door. Just seeing his name on your lock screen is taxing enough as is. Hearing his voice on a call or standing in front of him was out of the question. Ghosting him was about as much as you could do. 

But this decision is far from impulsive, despite how sudden it must seem to him, if he even noticed your quiet feelings at all. No, this was a long time coming. It took you awhile to rationalize it in your head, to figure out what you needed to do. Your first solution was to ignore it. You quickly realized that approach just wouldn’t work.

Everytime he was with you, all you wanted was to laugh with him, to stay up late talking anything, to lie next to him peacefully, like you used to. But you couldn’t. The laughs you gave at his jokes were strained, the conversations you had were disingenous, your slumber at his side was plagued with unpleasant dreams. Everything involving him was colored with darkness, tainted by the gnawing thoughts in the back of your head. Keeping up the facade felt like slowly suffocating. 

For your own sanity, you pulled away. Bit by bit, day by day, you cut yourself off from him. You spoke to him less, you saw him less, and you spent more time alone. It helped, for a while, until even your mediocre false-front left you feeling far too drained. It all just reached a breaking point two weeks ago, when you finally accepted the truth. 

You couldn’t pretend anymore. 

This has to end. 

Which brings you to now, hearing Hawks knock at your door for the fifth time this week, desperately asking if you were okay, if he had done anything, if you could just speak to him once. You feel paralyzed. You can’t move from your spot on the couch, completely immobilized by the sheer fear of him being so close to you, separated by a mere wall. The anxiety and sadness you feel in this moment keeps you anchored down. 

“Dove, please just talk to me. I’m begging you,” he pleads. You can hear the desperation in his voice. His confusion is painfully clear. Your eyes burn when his voice breaks and he begs, “Please. Just please. Let me fix this, tell me how to make this right. I don’t want to lose you.” 

Hearing his grief feels like a knife to the heart. 

But as much as his devastation hurts you, you don’t have the courage in you to look him in the eye, or to even say a word to him through the door.

The tears start trailing down your face, and accompanied with them the urge to let out choked wails of genuine pain, but the thought of him knowing that you’re home forces you to swallow down your sobs. Any wails that manage to worm their way out of your throat are bitten down and muffled into your hand. Had the door separating the two of you not been so thick, you would be able to hear that Hawks isn’t fairing much better than you. Shaky exhales escape his lips as his heart aches with the pain of losing you, for good.