#also i have nothing to put on the bites so they just keep itching until i scratch them open so thats just great

[michameinmicha]

Its probably because im changing my meds but its so fucking annoying i havent been able to sleep because i am unable to lay still for 5 seconds and the fact that i had (lets hope it was only one) a mosquito in my room that has been eating me alive the past two nights does not help this situation at all! I am covered in itchy mosquito bites that i keep scratching and i keep jerking my legs around every few seconds which of course makes my ridiculously loud bed creak every time... i am so tired and i have things to do today so i cant even just sleep through the day instead ☹️

[kentocalls]

endo yamato | (poison) paradise face slapping. bad decisions. descriptions of body violence, descripton of vomiting, endo's really sweet i wanted to make him craizer i'm sorry i guess sugar is the flavor of crazy i like. thanks for inspiring & letting me indulge @bjorkshire-pudding .

part 1

you're working too late and not sleeping enough. legs move like lead, the sway in your hips still hypnotic but less balanced. normally, endo would've punched tom in the dick by now but as he's a changed man; endo settles for repeatedly stabbing tom in his mind as he punctures the bald man's tires.  

that la prairie eye cream is also shit, endo knew you liked the packaging and bought it the second you he caught you staring at it. but what use is a $1,000 cream if you're still having to pack concealer on your face? you hate that shit. and the fucking coffee table that keeps grazing your knee in the morning uncoordinated rush? well, if it finds itself in a dumpster fire, endo knows nothing about it.

after all, he's enjoying the pleasant blue sky outside a random tall glass building. it's pure coincidence this is your work office, he wasn't even thinking, had no plan in mind, legs carried him all on their own to this sandwich stop, has nothing to do with the itch to see you.

he's bored and you work, it's a terrible combination. his trust fund would take care of generations of your children but alas; you want independence and he wants you happy.

endo stops mid bite when he hears you laughing. not the polite, gotta stay employed to pay bills laugh, the full belly ugly snorting laugh. his own lips twitching into a smile because of it. the only infections he'll catch come from you.  he turns to see the blessed sun that is your face and feels his heart swell. perfect, beautiful, radiant.

you're really, really laughing. god, he hasn't seen that....he hasn't seen it since....shit your birthday?   how long ago was that?

the guy in the grey suit isn't letting up, he's relaxed and saying more, you're not able to catch your breath due to the compiled waves of laughter echoing through your body. aphrodite has no right to claim herself as the goddess of beauty when you live and breathe gold.

you don't see endo, but he watches everything. the way you tilt your head at the grey suit guy, the way your eyes have a sparkle, how you bite your lip cuz you don't want to walk away but you need to go.  he remembers that tiny shuffle you do so adoringly, endo hums. leaning back into the bench, dropping his sandwich to the ground. unbothered by all the pigeons that descend.

you like grey suit, dontcha?

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you don't realize how much space endo has taken up until he's not around.  another friend is getting married, another bachelorette party to be had, and you find. yourself actually getting ready in peace. 

not that endo ever stopped you from wearing what you want. hell he'd pick the sluttiest thing you own, roaring "my goddess needs to be seen."  

your smile falters a little. 

it's your first club outing since the break up. and you'd say you're a medium get drunk and dance kinda of gal, nothing you absolutely have to do, but sometimes its fun. to dance, see the face of want and play and fun on someone else's face. endo always looked magical in the neon hues, ugh.  you would feel safer if endo...no, no. don't go there. . 

don't think about him, not when you're pulling on the louboutin heels he bought you just because.  not when you're closing the angara diamond tennis bracelet he caught you staring at. not when you put on solitaire hoops that reminded him of your eyes.

your whole vanity is full of overpriced, luxury brands you can't pronounce because pretty things are for his pretty thing.  the way heat rushes to your face, remembering his voice sound like that, FUCK. stop THINKING about him. you're so wound up. and you're remembering what your friends tell you.

the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else right?  you do a once over in the mirror. you're sparkling, the dress, the skin, the glow, the smile. oh, you'll get someone under you all right.

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endo is glaring daggers into the old fucks in the board room, they clearly don't need their eyes or brains. don't they KNOW what you look like right now? don't that understand he must pay homage? 

he tells his lackey he expects to see the hands of fuckers who don't know not to touch what belongs to you and ultimately him.  and groans loudly.  "debra, cut this fucking meeting short. what the fuck do you need approval for?"

it's only a 45 million dollar deal to approve stem cell research across three labs in the eastern countries. the fuck do they need endo to say? duh?

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you settle on a cranberry vodka, asking for more cranberry juice because that refreshing tart flavor feels good in this overheated crowd. you don't have to scout for too long, easily beckoning over the club player.

you've seen this guy with multiple girls and gals in various clubs. you're pretty sure he's been friends with benefits with the bachelorette at some point but it's not gonna stop you from getting dick tonight. 

the club player has something, maybe it's that one sharp canine that did you in, reminded you of...no, not going there, shut that door.

simmer down, trap that need. 

the club bathroom is a new place for you, it's dirty and messy and you grimace a little as you're slammed against the wobbly door, are only hearing how hot you are over and over and its fine. focus on that. ignore how this guy didn't even place a hand behind your head to prevent any harsh impact to your skull. that he didn't check in after you made that tiny noice.

this is what a quickie is right?

rushed, aggressive,  drunk fun.

come on, focus on how hot this guy is.

let his hands touch and squeeze. it's fine, you want this, need to use him, have to use him, you're drunk enough. "so fucking hot" hands on your hips. a slight tang of disappointment when they don't grip as much as endo's would have.

a bite to your shoulder,  the player barely puts any pressure into it; not like endo when he's...ah stop...endo isn't here. stop.the bathroom is empty, the night is young enough. it's you and this guy and yet you keep hoping you'll open your eyes and catch a sea of messy wavy hair and fuck.  why are your eyes hungry for a certain toothy grin and thundery eyes?

why? you aren't guilty are you?

endo won't even know, not that it matters, not like he'd do anything about this. he's respecting your 'boundaries' right, like you wanted. understanding that you're going to date other people because the two of you are 'not together' like that anymore. not exclusive. it's a quickie, it's fine. meaningless. it shouldn't matter that endo only ever smells like you.

you let out a big exhale, hands on the guys face to get him back to kissing you, he needs to do a better job at distracting you but the player pulls your wrists down and keeps them flush against the door.  it's different, when you test your strength and resist the players hold he smirks, "let me do my thing first hot mama."  

hot what?

you haven't been called that before. 

not sure if you like it.  

not sure if you wanna hear it again.  

maybe sexy mama but hot mama?  the hottest mama you know isn't even technically a mama--

"still with me hot stuff?" doesn't he know any other adjectives? you know how good you look. this dress, the hair, a total knockout -- you're ethereal, scorching, a vixen even, and the word this guy uses is hot? you roll your eyes and the guy stiffens up.

oh fuck, you hurt his feelings. but there's no apology on your lips, why the fuck is an eye roll enough to distract him from kissing you?

"you wanna do this or not?" his voice even.

"yeah, yeah i do."  he has a dick you reason, you'll feel better after being fucked, maybe, probably. he cocks an eyebrow.

"you keep pushing my hands away when i get close to touching you." he moves away, the heat gone, the tension dissipated. is he even cute? he has nice, clean, tattoo free hands, don't you want them on you?

"so you gonna be good hot thing and taste me?"

good? when you're the entire fucking package?

and what does he mean taste him?

right away too,  when he hasn't earned a reward?  all he's done is push into your space, give you a few short kisses. nothing real with need, hands too mean too eager too abrasive. nothing about his touch is for you, even the way his hips rut against your thigh, that angle? does nothing for you. 

it isn't how endo moves. endo would never take first. not from you. pushing you into seeing stars, has you shaking and grasping and floaty. endo always waits for you to beg, waits for you to claw at his skin, look up at him with wet eyes and only then let's you take what you want from him. fuck, you could keep endo on his knees the entire night and he still wouldn't expect your lips to do what this player is asking. 

what are you doing?

this guy isn't hot enough, he hasn't garnered any benefit, you want real kisses and  dirty whispers to make you forget about the smell of the bathroom stall, maybe it's the setting. fuck the light is too bright in here. maybe turning them off would help, but is this really? the guy you want under you?  "hey, hey, easy, hot thing."

oh for fucks sake, "i'm not drunk enough for this." 

"you needa be drunk to fuck?" the player pulls off of you immediately, studying your face. "listen, i'm not a therapist but ho-"

"i swear to god you call me hot thing, hot stuff, hot mama, one more--"

"okay, okay fuck, why are you so angry?" gone, all of it, just like that. you watch his ego enter the space as he puffs up his chest, a smirk on your face. the player studies your face a bit displeased, " what i was gonna say was, i'm only gonna fuck what wants to fuck me, and you don't. i'm out." 

a laugh on your lips as you saunter back to your friends, endo is taller than that asshole anyways. 

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emptying your guts into the white porcelain bowl is not how you wanted to spend your night. being rejected by the the club player had you drinking all the free shots your deep cut sparkly dress got you and now you're paying for it.

body in violent revolt against the assault of intoxication.

you're crying and puking and there are hands collecting your beautifully styled hair, keeping it tucked away and safe. a warm towel swiping at your mouth when your insides are empty. an arm around your waist hoisting you up, an up you go precious, and you're at the sink. you're made to swish mouthwash and spit, over and over until endo is satisfied you aren't going to wake up feeling gross.

he uses more clean, damp, hot towels to wipe at your body, getting the pesky body glitter off as best he can. his hands soft, warm, soothing. works lotion into your limbs, massaging the venom and spite out.

you aren't okay. and these tears? oh, someone's gonna bur for this. he'll definitely know who to return your anger and sadness to soon enough. but first, you. you wouldn't leave the club unless he came to get you right? knocked out that bouncers teeth fair and square when he put a hand to your neck. endo will get him too precious, he'll cut up the bouncers fingers in so many pieces it'll look like lentil soup when he's done. 

but you come first.  he's gotta get you clean and consoled. the smell of alcohol and sweat off your body, your hair soothed over and cared for how you like it, just how you do it at your place. needs to see you tucked into his cotton sheets, safe and sound in dreamland. he not gonna leave you like this, moody and fussy and drunk as fuck with sleep. 

"it's your fault, it's your fault."  you cry into his chest.  light punches to his chest.

irrational, that's what endo makes you feel.

"tell me," voice low and deep "tell me," hands on the side of your face, "angel. i'll undo it, i'll fix it, i'll end it. tell me." he needs to know what his fault is, needs to hear the next piece of him he'll rip out and discard.

endo would burn a thousand times over before ever seeing another tear fall from your face.

how dare he give rise to the storm brewing through your eyes?

hit him, punch him, break him. 

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you're at the mall buying apology gifts for fucking up the bachelorette party. friends understanding that endo has 'done a number' on you but really, really you've done a number on yourself. 

you barely recognize the girl in the shop window. what the fuck are you doing, trying to hook up with randos? 

you don't have to look to know he's trailing along, right behind you.  of course he is. takes your momentary introspection as desire for the gucci tacchini furniture in the window and snaps his fingers to a lackey to go in and buy the sofa in your favorite color. doesn't bring up last night nor the morning. it's annoying, it pisses you off. 

you buy things you don't need and shove all the bags into his chest. he takes them with the sweet grin and follows like a lost puppy.  

drops his card before you even reach for yours. it furthers your scorn. oh, he wants to pay? you'll make him back, waltz into every high end store and rack up an insane bills, he'll crack. he'll drop this soon enough right? that song he's humming and the way he's looking at you dreamy and soft is a lie, right?

"love it when my angel spends my money. get the purple one too, know you like that color."

you're mad, you're so fucking mad.  a blazing inferno, brighter than the sun and endo basks in the light despite the heat. 

you're buying more than you make in an entire year and all he does is bat his long eyelashes at you?

doesn't he have limits? 

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grey suit is a nice guy. a steady guy. a smart guy. he plays the game slow and steady, builds up a friendship, dotes on you in ways endo hadn't thought of but will surely steal. endo will study and learn how to do soft dating too. he'll learn all the things grey suit says to make you laugh like that too.

it's why endo isn't bothered when your apartment door opens and you stumble in, giggling with a goofy smile that's met with hushed kisses. grey suit has his hands on your low back, his eyes on your face. oh, endo thinks this one might do a decent job of doting on you. might even fuck you right too, hell grey suit may understand the goddess you are and that there is a right way to worship. 

endo rolls to his side on your brand new sofa, bringing his left leg over his right for balance, head leaning into right hand, he observes. watching you let yourself loosen up, body always stiff when things start to get heated, you're a little shy right? that's why deep kisses and whispered promises help you unwind. that's the best way, it gives you enough room to stop thinking, unwind, pull close, and allow yourself to take what you need. so far, grey suit might be patient enough to coax it outta you.

as endo watches, grey suit's eyes connect with his. grey suit doesn't startle, the motherfucker JUMPS. endo swears if that coward's hand actually hit your face in his alarm he's going to break each finger in half and shove it up grey suit's dick so far he'll need an ENT specialist to find them.

"that your roommate?"

endo gives him that smile.

"i'm the love of her life dickhead."

you give him a sharp look, what? he said dickhead not fucker or asshole. this is progress.

grey suit looks between you and endo, fucking shrimp. endo wouldn't hesitate to end any guy trying to get between you and him.  the only reason this is allowed is because grey suit makes you smile and laugh on your lunch hour. 

endo is confident, secure, stretches out on your sofa. you wanna use someone to pass the time? be his guest. endo can wait, confident all roads will lead to him at the end.

"i got an early meeting actually, hey, thanks for this, you're great," he looks at endo, "you are but i gotta, work. gotta make that money..." grey suit doesn't even kiss you goodbye?  what a disappointing piece of shit, that motherfucker better sleep with both eye open. you let him step into your sacred space and --

"endo yamato," you clench your fists, angry. oh, he hasn't head that in a while, he tried to stop himself from cackling he really did, but it escapes. endo cackles, moves to seated, legs crossing underneath him, back straight, the most polite posture he can muster. calls you hack by your full government name with the deepest voice.

you crowd him before you can help yourself, what's endo need personal space for when anyways? it's useless, store what you want in his lungs, really. he'll take anything as long as he can feel the heat of your skin this close.

your hand twitching with how fucking annoying endo's grin is, how vexing his eyes are, how exasperating the calmness of his being is. the gall of this guy. "return the key."

"no lock is gonna keep me from you precious."   his eyes dart to your hands. they're clenching so tight, your nails are gonna cut skin, gonna bleed. he uses his tattooed fingers to pry your fists open, stretching your hand flat and smacking it against his cheek, hard.

your glare softens in surprise. "you're mad at me right?"

his eyes dazed.

"i did something to upset you." he moves your hand against his cheek again, the mock slap makes you shiver. "gotta get that anger out, right? can't focus cuz of me, huh? " you swallow trying to break eye contact, don't get suckered into this. that sweet siren sound.

"i messed something up, angel didn't i?" another slap, the sound, the feel, the touch of your skin against his cheek is salvation he's unworthy of. he'll take any amount of force, any amount of pressure. keep your touch on him. 

you catch yourself, letting go an exhale you held captive in your lungs. stop, before you get lost in his eyes, before he unlocks this side of you, something you can't put a lid back on, something you can't unlearn. you shove at his face and feel him smile as you pull your hand away.

"i can take it."  he grabs at your hips, pulls you in, his breath hot against your stomach. takes your hand and kisses the palm. "i want it."  he guides your hand to his cheek again. 

"i deserve your anger, at the very least, don't i?" fuck, he's almost begging, looks up pleading, he deserves your warmth, your wrath. "take it out on me."

"take it out on you?" you don't recognize your voice.

he nods, smile wide. this is the first step to absolution for him, he made you cry didn't he? hit him until he sheds a hundred times the tears you did. 

"i won't make a sound. i won't move away. as hard as you want, goddess, as hard as you need." he is sorry for making you cry, so do it, use him. give in, give in, give in.

months and months and months of endo; him walking into your apartment as if it's his name on the lease and not yours. him looking at all your dates with disdain all while telling you he doesn't mind at all, go play. 

you hate you look for him when he's not around. hate all the sarcasm and snark he eats up like honey on drizzled on french toast.  hate how he can take your anger as if it's welcome rain and he's parched. resent how you notice everyone expects you to shrink and be polite but endo holds you up pride. takes all of you -- the anger, the saddens, the cursing, the frustration, like it's nothing.

he wouldn't even label it as enduring your shadow no, endo, your crazy fucking endo is always begging, grasping, crawling to that monster inside your chest to, bares his neck without asking. you hate it.

hate how he looks at you for approval; every time he's nice and not snapping at a waiter, punching a guys face, or drivint the speed limit. as if he's changed. as if he's normal.

as if you not seeing him go back to the restaurant to cause a scene means it didn't happen. that punching guys beyond recognition later doesn't change the fact people you don't know flinch when you cross the street. like you aren't aware of the payout endo's company does to keep his road rage out of the public eye. 

that he was worse before you, this is him healed, this is him contained. happy. your good, bad, ugly, worst days are the spark of his life, enchanting.  that you should let go, let him in, all of you is his. give in, give in, give in.  fuck what your friends think, fuck what your parents would say. he'll walk miles on his knees if he has to. don't be scared.

trusts you beyond with blind faith, take your fill again and again and again.

he'll prove it to you.

all you have to do is let him submit.

all you have to do is keep him.

what's he going to do with all this love that's meant for you anyway? this fidelity, it's yours. do what you want.

but you, oh. his precious goddess.

the filth before him have done a number on you haven't they? planting seeds of doubt about your worth. you don't trust his allegiance is that strong for you. that his faith is misplaced.

you'll show him.

you pull your hand back and slap hard. his whole face turns from the impact, eyes a little blown out.

that's it. that's right. he's not gonna run, he's not gonna ask you to constrict.

his angel, his saving light, his precious heart, his goddess.  

no sound, no snark, no challenge.

endo licks his lips. softly returns his head to it's initial position, balanced between on top his neck. he relaxes his shoulders down, keeps his hands soft and loose on his thighs. 

he looks up.

you're gonna take it out on him right?

ready, waiting, wanting.

use him.

[calibabii21]

| lunch pt. 2 | billie e.

pairing: billie eilish x songwriter fem!reader

genre: suggestive

warning(s): mm..kissing? near anxiety attack, obvious flirting- no abuse of power.

a/n: y'all petitioned for a pt 2 (and I was itching to write one) so here we aaarrreee~ not proofread ofc

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

"girl, if you post on your story one more tiiime." Billie's head falls back against the couch with it a genuine laugh, "you do this with each session we have."

your nose scrunches up, "shut up. I can't help that I'm excited for this." you flash her your freshly manicured middle finger for emphasis on your attitude.

"keep playing and that finger's gonna be up my ass." there's a brief pause before you both bust out laughing, "WAIT– I meant YOUR ass– nooo wait- listen."

but you're on the floor doubling over, clutching your stomach. "that's what you get dumbass." your giggles and chuckles slowly die down as you rest on the floor.

"whatever man." she smacks her teeth but looks down at you with a soft smile, "it's your turn. get your pretty ass up here."

you sit across from her picking up your mic and place the studio headphones over your head, only leaving your right ear uncovered. "we starting at the chorus or the second verse?"

Billie leans forward and presses the record button, "let's hit your verse, beautiful." her cheeky grin is detected without you even having to look up at her.

you give her the nod and thumbs up as you take a swig of water and do a few more last minute vocal warm ups. "ready when you are." your head begins bobbing to the groove of the bass heavy track.

I’ve always been an “I like who I like” type of person. I despiiiise all the labels, so much added pressure such unnecessary conflict put me in a box- no need to confine me

the last couple hours of studio time pass before you're even aware. "I dig that. I really do." you bite your lip to contain your grin, "I just..can't believe this is really happening."

before she can interject and question you, you continue speaking. "I mean, I know my words are powerful and all- but I never expected it to happen this soon. I still record in my room for Christ's sake!"

you lean against the mixing console, "Willow is next." you can't even hide your smile anymore.

"I can't tell if I should be jealous of your excitement or the fact that I also want a Willow collab." she looks at you half joking, half serious, "but I'm excited for you. you've worked hard in that bedroom of yours."

you share a baby laugh as she gives your thigh a poke.

there's a few seconds of silence before she sighs and slides over in her chair to sit right in front of you, "okay. I've been stalling to ask this, but..do you want to go to a party tonight?"

not sure if you wore it on your face, but she's quick to follow up. "it's nothing too big, by the way- just a few of my friends, a pool, good food..me." you were going to decline, until she said that.

"I'm just not.. really a party person?" you can feel yourself growing anxious at the thought of having to fit in with thee Billie Eilish's friends. you weren't very outgoing, and damn sure not experienced.

what if they play truth or dare or something??

you're silent and your breathing hasn't changed to indicate a rise in panic, but you feel her place a hand on you to ground you. "hey, you don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable doing. you can bring you a book if you want haha."

you half smile, "that's sweet of you." your pinkies lock as she initiates a more intimate level of affection. "I'm starting to think you only called me here to seduce me."

there's a half playful, half serious look on her face as she shrugs, "is it working?" but you say nothing despite her hands now firmly resting on your waist– pulse kicking.

"we are so doing this out of order."

your eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes, a cute smirk forming when feel her fingers daringly dig into your ass, "should I report this?" her nose jokingly scrunches against yours, "only if you don't want it."

but you're already meeting her halfway. back arched, fingers combing through her dark locks..lips locked.

your first kiss. shared with the one and only Billie Eilish. a woman you've unknowingly had your eyes on for so long.

the way she naturally leads the kiss– the feeling of her tongue connecting with yours has your hips gyrating in an attempt to feel the slightest bit of pressure where you need it most.

an alarm blaring pulls you out of your impromptu makeout session and back to reality.

"shoot, I forgot I have a..thing." you make up a lame excuse, too embarrassed to tell her you have a date with the ticketing queue for one of your favorite groups.

you gather your things and lean over, giving her a slow, deep kiss– hoping you did it right, before pulling away and looking dead into her eyes, "I'll see you Friday."

placing a peck on her cheek, you dash out of the studio. as you get into your car you feel your phone vibrate with a text.

bills: I don't think I can wait that long😩

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Hello!

So I started watching ROTTMNT a few weeks ago despite my only exposure to the Ninja Turtles being a single scene of a 90's live-action movie when I was maybe 5 because the turtles started repeatedly appearing in my dreams, and my brother informed me this was the universe telling me I need to watch the turtles.

In any case, I have now become hyperfixated. Could I request platonic ROTTMNT turtle boys with a reader who is a biting insect magnet? It doesn't matter if the bug usually feeds on humans or not, the reader's blood is, for whatever reason, sweet, sweet nectar to all manner of biting insects, to the point that even max strength bug repellant doesn't always work to keep the bugs away; so reader is always getting bitten up by all nearby biting insects. To make matters worse, reader is mildly allergic to the itch juice bugs inject when they bite, and gets huge, swollen, itchy rashes from bug bites that itch for several weeks. (Reader is also an avid herper—someone who enjoys catching and releasing wild reptiles and amphibians, a passtime that involves being out and about where bugs are going to be at the times they are most active.)

My first experience with tmnt was the 2012 series when it first came out, I was like 7ish. Didn't Really get into the fandom though untill recently!

Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello and Michaelangelo x reader who's catches lizards and is allergic to bug bites

Raph

★ Whoo boy. He is so scared that you are going to get bitten by a oozesquitoe. It's not even funny. Anytime you're remotely near one he's pulling out Donnie's emergency hazmat suit (More on that later)

★ He urges you to where long sleeves and pants when you go out. Actually really likes the lizards that you catch. His favorite lizard native to New York is the coal skink because it looks a little red in the right lighting.

★ Raph's worried about your health, but that's just how he is. He will always be a bit worried about your health. Its actually pretty sweet. But please put a bandaid over the bigger bites so that he doesn't fret.

Leo

★ Leo, being the ever so intelligent person he is, decides that you're the perfect bait to catch oozesquitoes. Fortunately he is quickly shut down by his brothers the moment he voices his clearly perfect idea.

★ He keeps more than a few bottles of benadryl around the lair. Allergic reactions to bug bites wasn't something he knew about before meeting you. He's well stocked for whenever you get attacked by bugs.

★ Yes, he tried to cut a mosquito in half with his ōdachi. No, it didn't work. His weapon got stuck in a log because he put to much force into the swing.

★ He might get a little jealous over the lizards. Especially if you start talking to them. "look at you, handsome little guy!" And "oh, you have beautiful coloration" all prompt his jealousy. "Why don't you talk to me like that :'("

Donnie

★ Your blood seems to be irresistible to blood-eating insects, bug spray or not. His quite perplexed by the whole situation. Are you sure you used bug spray and not sunscreen?

★ His fear over you getting bitten by an oozesquitoe mixed with his tendency to plan things out in advanced led him to make a emergency hazmat suit for you in the turtle tank.

★ The amount of times he's had to put calamine lotion on you because you had gotten bit by bugs is way too high. To be blunt, he thinks you should stop trying to catch random lizards. Or at the very least cut down on it.

★ But then again, the look on your face when you catch a lizard and show him it is really cute. Especially when you explain to him what species it is and where it likes to hide during the day.

Mikey

★ Knows next to nothing about lizards, which is surprising because he's a reptile. If you have any books on wildlife he would like to borrow them to read up on New York's reptile population.

★ When you get bad allergic reactions he brings you to Leo. He would carry you but he probably can't because he is smol. Mikey loves animals but he doesn't love mosquitoes because of the effect they have on you.

★ He joins you whenever you try to catch lizards. Mikey loves to give the lizards you catch different names. Whenever you go out he brings a jar of dehydrated mealworms for whatever creature you catch.

[sunriseverse]

If you're still looking for prompts, how about this: either shape-shifter AU, or someone getting cursed and turning into an animal?

so uh. this is. six months late. sorry. and also not the fluff you were probably expecting. but! please enjoy this offering, because i had a lot of fun writing it :)

-

The kid is gone when the morning dawns.

Wu Xie is new to this; all of this, any of this. That he had overlooked something this simple is both unsurprising, and horrifically, teeth-baringly infuriating. He should have known better. He should have known better. It’s not like shifters are rare; they’re half the population. Hell, out of the Iron Triangle, the only one of them who doesn’t have the blood in them is—

He cuts that thought off there. It’s too painful; better to not think about it; better to focus on his own stupid, stupid fuck-ups: namely, the fact that he’d not thought to check if the kid they’d taken had the blood, and now—well. Wu Xie just hopes he’s not gone and gotten himself killed of thirst trying to run away. It’s a nasty way to go; he’s seen men turn insensate and pathetic from the dehydration that warps their minds and the world before their very eyes, makes them beg even as their lungs dry and their faces go sallow, until their lips start to bleed.

“Laoban,” Wang Meng says, frowning as he approaches Wu Xie. “None of the others have seen him.”

Wu Xie bites back a scoff. Of course they hadn’t; no one expects to see an animal out here, besides camels. Maybe if the kid’s lucky, he’s got some desert-adapted traits; if not, then—well. It won’t be the first time all he’s had to show for his efforts is a dead body, but it doesn’t please him, even if he’s working on stripping most emotions besides a single-minded focus from the viscera of him. “I’ll go find him,” he says. “The scent tracks shouldn’t be too disturbed—it’s been a calm few days; the sands haven’t shifted much. He can’t have gone far.”

Wang Meng’s expression wars between concern and disbelief. “Wouldn’t it be better to go out with the Jeeps?” he asks. 

Wu Xie huffs. “And let him hear us from fifty kilometres away?” he says, raising a brow, and itches for a smoke. Wang Meng always makes disapproving sounds when he sees them; Wu Xie wonders how long it’ll take for him to stop. The nicotine always mellows out the worst edges of anger, draws his focus back to where it needs to be. But, no. Not right now. Even he knows that putting that shit in his lungs right before he shifts is a bad idea. He doesn’t really want to pass out from smoke inhalation. “No,” he says, “I’ll go. Don’t let anyone in camp know I’m gone. And if I’m not back by nightfall—”

“I know,” Wang Meng says, lips pressed thin. Wu Xie’s own twitch. If nothing else, Wang Meng is learning the very same valuable skills he himself is.

They head back for the tent to keep up appearances. Wu Xie downs a full bottle of water, and strips out of his jacket, sets it aside carefully, a photo worn by the number of times he’s turned it over in his hands hidden in the pocket that lays over his heart. He’s a coward; he doesn’t want them to see him like this, what he’s about to do. But cowards are the ones who live the longest, so a coward he’ll be. 

Shifting is—

It’s been a long time. His mind associates it too much with looping around Pangzi’s shoulders, warm puddles of sunlight, the gentle brush of a finger against the flat of his head. He’d avoided it, selfish, in an attempt to preserve that connection. Now, he’s using his skills for exactly what they’d been meant for: hunting. The sands are distantly warm against his belly, protected by scales; he slips between shadows, camouflaged by the dusty colour of his body; flicks a tongue out to scent the air. Already, he can catch the faint scent of another animal—something small, covered in fur. He’s lucky the kid isn’t a flier; they tend to have better stamina. 

He’s not quite sure how long he goes for; the sands blend together under the high noon sun, his only sense of direction the scents of the group back at the camp and the scent of the kid’s form. When he finally catches sight of a small, unmoving body. Dusty fur, small. The scent of him is still warm, so he’s not dead—yet. Wu Xie draws closer, raises his body to get a better view, tongue flickering out, and then shifts back to human form. The kid’s body, a rodent of some sort, is dwarfed by the palm of his hand. Wu Xie, who doesn’t have anything to put him in, sighs and resigns himself to carrying him. 

The good news is that he can see the camp in the distance; he hasn’t gone that far—the kid had mostly been hidden by the colour of his fur blending into the sand and his small size. He makes the trek back in good time, arrives just as his throat is beginning to rub against itself as he swallows from the aridity. Most of the camp is hiding in their tents, away from the beating sun, and so he can slip back into theirs without being noticed.

Wang Meng is sitting at the portable desk, playing something on his phone. When Wu Xie enters, he scrambles to his feet. “Laoban,” he says. 

“Water,” Wu Xie orders, without preamble. “And a pipet.” It’s fortuitous they’d brought some along in case Wu Xie were to grow too dehydrated in his animal form and be unable to shift back. Wu Xie sits down on one of the bedrolls and draws up water from the bottle that Wang Meng opens for him and carefully feeds it into the kid’s mouth, carefully held upright so he doesn’t choke.

For a long while, he’s half afraid it’s a bust, that the kid’s died on the way back. He’s too small to feel his heartbeat properly or see his chest rise and fall, and half the water just spills out the corners of his mouth. But then, after an eternity, the kid’s tiny body jolts and he comes back to consciousness. Wu Xie has just enough forewarning to drop him to the ground before he shifts back to human, heaving gasping, ragged breaths, and scrambling for the tent flap, zipped shut. Wu Xie rises to his feet and easily halts him with a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he says, softly. “You almost died out there; do you really want to tempt fate again?”

Weak with dehydration still, the kid squirms under his grasp until he finally gives up and turns his face to glare at Wu Xie. “Better dead than with you,” he tries to say, but the words come out hoarse.

Wu Xie sighs. The analysis isn’t wrong, but then again, he’s known for a long time now that he’s willing to be anyone’s worst nightmare to get what needs to be done done. “Drink,” he says, instead, and holds the bottle of water to the kid’s lips.

For a long moment, the kid glares at him, lips pressed firmly shut, and then, finally, the thirst gets the better of him, and he drinks. Wu Xie lets the ghost of a smile cross his face. “Good,” he says, patting the kid’s shoulder. “You won’t die today.”

[pavlovleowrites]

For @jegulus-microfic, August 24th prompt Skirt (656 words, nsfw, explicit sexual content)

There’s not a lot that James wouldn’t do for a dare, so when he loses a bet to Sirius, he doesn’t expect that he’ll feel so self-conscious going out in a skirt.

Seeing the way he keeps tugging at the hem of the pleated red piece of fabric though, Sirius takes pity and tells him they are fine, he can change before they leave.

But that wasn’t the rules, and James isn’t about to let Sirius give him a pass just because he is unsure of the way he looks. It’s not a feeling he is used to, but maybe actually taking the skirt out for a spin might be a solution.

If only he had known it was all it took to finally see Regulus completely lose it.

When they reached the club and met their friends, Regulus' eyes had widened and it only took a couple shots until ad been dragged to the little bathroom in the back and shoved him face front against the stall door.

Now, Regulus is holding the skirt up while working James open with his other hand, deft fingers wet with spit. When James feels Regulus’ hot breath against the skin of his neck, he knows the man must be standing on his toes. The idea of his smaller, lithe boyfriend, pinning him to the door with such strength goes straight to his already leaking cock.

« Fuck sake James, showing up in a skirt, no warning, no nothing? », Regulus’ voice is rough, « you think you’re allowed to look this good, you think I can let you walk around showing your legs like that? »

James breath itches as Regulus puts a third finger inside his hole.

« I can’t believe you’d do that James. Tell me, did you expect I would let you just show up like that ? You’ll get hit on all night, and honestly you deserve it with the way you look, so pretty baby, but I have to make sure anyone out here knows my claim now. I can’t let you parade around just like that baby. »

Teeth bites into the tender flesh of his neck. It’s not nice, but the jolts of pain make James shiver, as Regulus’ tongue soothes his skin. James pushes back against Regulus’ fingers, chasing his high.

« Fuck, you want it so bad baby. »

« Then do something about it, » James hear himself whine.

The sting of slap on his ass makes him groan. If anyone were to walk into the bathroom right now, there would be no doubt about what is going on.

« So needy. Spit then. » and Regulus holds his hand by James’ face as the taller boy complies.

A few seconds later, James feels the head of Regulus’ cock against his entrance.

« You sure baby, I don’t want to hurt you. » Regulus' gentle tone almost undo James right there, god he feels loved. But right now, he also wants to feel dicked down, so he pushes against his boyfriend, back arched a little.

« Please, fuck me, Regulus. »

« Well, when you ask so prettily. ».

And with a swift movement of the hips, Regulus enters him and moans hoarsely, « you’re so tight, so good for me baby. »

The slight jolts of pain are quickly replaced by the bliss of feeling so full on his boyfriend, as Regulus starts moving, slowly at first, and then quicker, until he bottoms out, teeth grazing against James’ shoulder.

When Regulus hands grabs James’ untouched cock under his skirt and starts stroking, James sees stars. Neither of them last long after that.

When they finally face each other again, spent and content, Regulus finally kisses James tenderly.

As they look at each other, James can’t help himself and asks with a mischievous smile, « So you liked the skirt ? »

Regulus rolls his eyes but James catches the small bite on his lips.

He is not feeling self-conscious anymore.

[faggotryandtransjesterism]

VegasPete Fic Rec List (Part 2)

Favorites marked with a (*)

A Close Shave by @fleet-off | 4k | M *

The bathroom walls feel claustrophobically tight, and Vegas’s stomach is a ball of leaden frustration poised to turn molten. He wants to shatter the mirror with his fist, to yell at Pete to stand up straight, to curse his uselessness--just another one of Vegas’s failures. The razor sits on the edge of the sink. This was a bad idea.

Vegas gives Pete a shave.

another one of my all-time favorites! the tension! the pete saengtham messy bitch agenda! i've been spending a lot of time lately screaming in fleet's comment boxes, and you should too!

somewhere between the heart and the vein by @veliseraptor | 20k | T

In the aftermath of the failed coup, Pete has: an unconscious and possibly dying Vegas Theerapanyakul, a whole lot of feelings to work through, and no job.

He goes from there.

another recovery fic, another lise fic, you literally cannot go wrong.

begging to bleed by @veliseraptor | 10k | E *

Vegas is trying to be good. Pete's getting a little fed up with it.

His staged intervention produces positive results.

yet another lise fic! PWP of the highest order. PWT, if you will. porn with themes. big fan of pete knowing what he wants <3

Finders Keepers by @veliseraptor | 3k | T

Vegas was supposed to kill Pete. Vegas has not killed Pete, and it turns out that is working out pretty well for him.

Up until Kan discovers the safehouse's extra inhabitant.

pure angst. don't look at me. i left this thing with shell shock and new sources of anger

Brand Recognition by @iffervescent | 6k | E *

Vegas wants his top billing back. Pete likes being on the bottom.

porn star AU PWP. feminization. electrotoy. need i say more?

won't give up these ghosts by @fleet-off | 7k | E *

Vegas lays him on a patch of firm ground. From his cocoon, Pete hears the rhythmic thud of a shovel sinking into loose earth. Vegas is digging him a grave.

In which Pete finds playing dead relaxing, and Vegas decidedly does not.

this may genuinely be my favorite vegaspete fic of all time. it's literally perfect and there is nothing else like it on earth. read it. read it right now. let it awaken something in you.

swinging from the willow tree by incendir | 2k | T

Every single ingredient is here. Vegas rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

[Or, the first step in starting over]

vegas cooking fics are my weakness

Bite the Hand by @ghost--houses | 1k | E

The second Vegas uncuffs Pete from the headboard, Pete grabs for Vegas' left hand and pulls it into his mouth. He says nothing, he doesn't look at Vegas, just puts his teeth to Vegas' skin and keeps them there, gnawing.

subdrop fics are. also my weakness

Fidelity by @veliseraptor | 2k | T

Vegas visits his father's grave.

father-son angst my beloved. again, kinda character-study oneshot

Five Year Itch by puckbaes | 78k | NR

Pete has everything he could’ve dreamed of, a husband that loves him and a family to call his own. It’s perfect, until the day it isn’t. What do you do when you find out the love of your life is one of the most prominent mob bosses in Bangkok? Turns out, clean breaks are notoriously difficult when you have a son together.

A getting back together fic featuring mafia!Vegas, shared custody of Venice, and Pete’s inability to stay away from danger.

i usually don't stray from canon universe with vegaspete to be honest, or at least not too far from it. this one's fluffy it's angsty she's got it all. i really thought normie!Pete was gonna be a deal breaker for me, but i actually really enjoyed this and i think it's really well done.

And that's a wrap! My collection's always growing, so part 3 at some point probably lol. Once again, if anyone knows more of these authors on tumblr, please tag them! Enjoy and scream in my asks about them (and don't forget to leave kudos and comments for the lovely authors!)

[abronzeagegod]

ETS WIP Chapter 10: Everything Has Gone Wrong

First | More

Lyta had been feeling good the last couple of weeks.

Actually, no, she'd been feeling amazing.

Alive, awake, and sure she'd been angry and testy and short-fused but that was a price she was willing to pay to feel this good, this consistently.

However, there was a big downside to this whole "everyone is angry all the time" thing, and that was that Aeth seemed to be mad at her all the time.

That, made Lyta feel worse than anything else.

She was concerned for her friend. They had gone through a lot, and things hadn't really been better for them since everything was more-or-less resolved.

For some reason, when Aeth started sending her lots and lots of videos on Swwarm, that put Lyta's hair on edge. There wasn't anything specific that Aeth was doing or not doing that made Lyta concerned, but there was a break in some hidden pattern, something was off and she couldn't tell exactly what it was.

Their days off didn't line up properly for a little bit, and with everything, Lyta had to fight against herself to offer Aeth some space. So it wasn't for a few days until Lyta saw Aeth.

And when she did see them she instantly knew something was wrong.

Aeth, like anyone, used their phone a fair amount.

But they were all but tied to it, barely looking up from the device as they walked into the office.

Lyta went over to talk to her friend and Aeth had a full conversation with her without looking up from their phone.

This was extremely unusual and not at all like Aeth.

"Are you ok?" Lyta asked, reaching out for her friend.

Aeth pulled away from the touch, very unlike them, and then responded. "I'm fine. Nothing to worry about."

Lyta was concerned at the answer, so unlike Aeth.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. I've been practicing some meditation and mindfulness things I found on Swwarm. I can send them to you."

"No, that's fine," she said but she already felt her phone vibrating in her pocket as Aeth sent her several videos. "We'll talk after work."

"Sure."

The whole thing left a bad taste in Lyta's mouth, and that feeling carried her and fueled her through the rest of the day.

Lyta worked the phones for the rest of the day, biting back comments and angry reactions even though she desperately wanted to. Everything around her was pushing her buttons and pushing her to reaction.

She felt the itch at the back of her wrists, the clawing and itching for release and power, but she had long ago learned to push that down and away.

When she finally managed to clock out and leave, she found that Aeth had already left.

"They had some kind of personal emergency to take care of," one of her boss' heads told her as she looked for Aeth around the office.

That only put Lyta in a worse mood.

She grabbed her stuff from her locker, and stormed off back to her home. If it was a real emergency Aeth would have told her, Aeth would have come to her. Everything here was deeply and irrevocably fucked.

Once she was in her apartment, Lyta angrily poured herself a drink, and reluctantly started to make food. She was pissed and the last thing she wanted to do was keep having to do things, to put forth effort just to live in this stupid bullshit day. But objectively she knew that she needed to. That her anger was not her, that the rage she was feeling was only being perpetuated by the needs of her body.

After things started cooking and Lyta was feeling a little better, and also a little drunker, she checked her phone to see if there was any new content while she waited for things to cook.

She ignored the seventeen messages from Aeth about mindfulness and getting in touch with your inner master. If there was one thing she absolutely could not stand it was that bullshit. It meant nothing to her because she had already waded through that sea to find the few things that weren't scams and did help her, she didn't need any more of that Ascension crap.

The first video she saw was some religious-fascist crap about how there were too many faiths and gods to keep track of and it was the duty of every native born in Reakonfall to push out the gods by whatever means necessary.

Lyta hated that shit even more. She didn't respond she just hit the report and block button.

But the next video was even worse.

The algorithm saw that she had watched the entire video previously, and so it had queued up this next one. It never accounted for the fact that she reported it for enticing violence, it just saw the interaction.

The video was of an attractive looking man, with the kind of features that would place him on a daytime soap opera. Lyta started to watch the video and quickly started bristling with anger.

The man stated, "You know that there are certain people out there that can create new beings? New gods even! They can slip dangerous creatures like this one right behind our carefully constructed wards and gates." The video shifted to show some horror drawing of a terrible creature that Lyta was fairly certain was concept art for the failed game Twin Houses.

He continued talking about how these people could simply make dangerous creatures appear and there was nothing we could do to stop them. There was no defense against these terrorists. He even went to show a picture of someone who he claimed was one of these 'terroristic summoners'.

The anger that was clouding Lyta's vision saw Aeth in the video and she snapped.

It felt like she was putting a piece of cold wire from a broken bone in her arm. The feeling lasted forever and no time at all.

The hilt of frozen ash was in her hand, and the blade of fractal wildfires was brought down hard on to the phone screen.

The magic blade fueled entirely on Lyta's anger, pushed through the electronics and the stone counter-top with no resistance until the frozen ash handle met with stone.

A moment of deep breathing later, of feeling the cold biting at her lungs, Lyta snapped out of her blind rage.

"Fuck."

She couldn't banish the blade, she was stuck with it for a little while, at least until the temperature in the room returned to normal.

Drawing the blade, using her magic, almost always snap froze everything around her. And Lyta had been extremely angry for a while and so her entire kitchen was frozen solid, and there was a giant hole in her island.

Lyta opened some windows and tried to let the warm air circulate in so that the angry blizzard she'd caused would dissipate faster, but she knew that the only thing that would undo the snap freeze was time.

Dinner was ruined.

She could order food, though, but as she reached for her phone she realized that she had cut it in half.

"Fuck!"

Lyta knew herself well enough that now she recognized how wrong everything had been the last few weeks.

She was angry all the time, she had been worked up, but the anger wasn't truly her's. She didn't feel the all encompassing rage that covered and consumed everything like a blizzard, or the white-hot instant anger that snap froze everything around her like an instant wildfire but made cold.

Something had been manipulating her.

She also knew her magic well enough, for better or worse. It was something she'd had for years, before she even moved to this city.

It had been weeks of constant, building anger. She should have had enough magic bursting out of her to summon three swords, a halberd, two great clubs, and a morning star. Lyta should have encased the entire building in a snowstorm that lasted a week and reduced everything to a even, white, samey nothingness.

Something had been manipulating her. And something had been sucking away at her magic this entire time.

She looked at the phone, cut in half and frozen to the kitchen island.

It couldn't be, could it? Could it be that simple?

Could that stupid app be behind this?

The anger started really building when she was Swwarming. The entire thing stopped when she destroyed the phone.

Now that Lyta thought about it, the video she was being shown was terrible, it should have been banned. It seemed directly targeted at her for maximum outrage.

The face she saw at the end couldn't have been Aeth. There's no way that anyone knew anything about what Aeth had summoned, there was no way that there were any records or anything for anyone to even find.

It had to be that app.

Something bad was happening.

Lyta needed to call Aeth.

But she had cut her phone in half.

"FUCK!"

i have a kofi where you can read these early if you've supported me at any time

[nvrcmplt]

"Beorn, here -"

Before the giant has a moment to say anything, Kaveh has already taken a hold of one of his hands and put into his own two. Plastered against bare skin is an ointment, a bit tangy and rich in fragrance, its greenish hue being massaged into the other's knuckles and fingers.

"You do such backbreaking work for me, and I couldn't stop noticing that you work a lot with your hands. This is an ointment I got from my friend who happens to a forest ranger. He is exceptionally skilled with these sort of things - I, on the other hand, only know how to apply them - and therefore I'd like you have some. It should make your fingers less stiff and skin a little softer without breaking down any resistance." Applying some more, he'd focus intensely between Beorn's fingers, making sure to hit any possible knots that might have occurred from the work. "Working out in the Sumeru sun can be quite the hassle, and while I am somewhat used to it, this ointment also helps cooling down your skin a little bit."

There, he added under his breath; "... now give me your other hand, please."

The call of his name had his attention though the action of his hand being taken rather swiftly before he could even use it to leverage his weight to face his Boss - he was at a loss. Thankfully, his core was a mountain of muscle and keeping upon upright was easy - enough to adjust a knee between them to be able to balance on it much better. He still wasn't all that used to sitting on the floor so much, or with cushions or just low chairs in general, but it was nice after a hard day. Comfort in the small things which was also whatever this was.

Oil? It didn't feel that slippery, but it was nice. Cooling as spoken of - strange but not enough to make him wipe it off. Watching in fact in silence like a child that knew better than to over speak their elder or try and deny the care. Beorn would only stare upon their hands, Kaveh was so much smaller than himself in any ways. It was rather comical, but the sight of those fingers between his own knuckles searching for every crack, dry patch, cuts even - to be covered in the ointment. He felt a flutter of something - not an emotional desire to make this man his wife or anything like that but a blossoming of deeper friendship?

"You are a worry wart type, hm?" Though he didn't stop himself from moving his free hand over to the others needs. Looking upon the slick skin that was rather nice in scent now. He did resist upon licking it, a lesson he's learnt from before upon licking soap bubbles. He's never felt his inside hate him more than that moment. "This friend of yours, he has a talent to find something that doesn't reverse the leathering of a hard-working hand. Must have taken him years to master it." Beorn knew of a few ointments but nothing as special as this. Honestly, not that he thought about it - it was mostly just melted animal fat and the occasional flower.

"This place's weather is very different to my homelands, that is more akin to the Dragonspine of Teyvat. Snow and rock, sun is constant but nothing with this heat. I didn't really notice my skin burning until you pointed it out though." Something to do with his pain tolerance, when skin can melt from frost burn, sun burn didn't feel any different in his opinion. "Ah - on that note, does your friend have an ointment for the bites of bugs? I've noticed broken skin on his ribs lately." Though he wasn't sure if it itched or not. "You seem to lack any of them, so I was curious do you have a method to stop it?"

"Ah, also thank you for the treatment. My hands feel better."

[kitxkatrp]

I'm having a meltdown and need to rant. I'm sorry if this upsets anybody, so I'll be putting it under the cut.

So I'm having issues with not being able to handle my mood swings again, for one. A bunch of things keep happening and its making me feel like I want to fucking die again and because its bipolar moodswing I can do nothing but ride it out because nothing I've learned and no medicine can help me stop an episode when it fucking starts.

So not only did I have to emergency buy another computer (which I had to borrow MONEY to pay for), but i got it and it barely works. But because I couldn't afford the warranty, I'm now out 400 dollars.

AND

I'm getting bit in bed again, which means my neighbors have given me bedbugs, AGAIN. If you weren't here for the first three or four times, this is the like fifth time in the span of a single year and they refuse to treat your apartment unless you can actually catch one, but refuse to do a proper inspection. They walk in, lift up your sheets, and say "there's no bedbugs. You're obviously just wrong and it's fleas from your pet" and then leave. They don't check cracks, crevices, and all other spots that bedbugs live. Also one fell out of my bathroom vent, so I'd bet anything thats where the fuckers are coming from. They refused to treat my apartment before for over a month until I caught a live bedbug, walked into their office, and slammed it down on their fucking desk and said "tell me its my cat and fleas again. I dare you."

Also I am excruciatingly allergic to bedbug bites, so they swell up and get all nasty and sometimes infected. They itch so maddeningly bad that you have to constantly put cream on them. I am almost out of cream.

Also I paid all the money I had yesterday for fucking groceries, only to realize today that I am low on garbage bags and I'll have to borrow even MORE money from my partners this month to just make it to the next month.

Comcast doubled my bill and refused to lower it.

My disability got raised, but because of it, they docked my food stamps again so I'm essentially just as fucked as before.

I couldn't afford valentines gifts for either of my partners or a birthday gift for scottie so I feel like a terrible partner.

I am having moments of hearing voices again which happens when I am so physically and mentally stressed that my bipolar is unable to cope.

I am almost out of allergy medication. I could not afford it this month. It's almost 30 bucks for a pack that lasts a month. It is the only thing that works and I can't even take it every day cause then it stops working. I am allergic to dust mites (the things that live in your bedding), and my own cat, which did not develop until after I got my cat. When I lay down, half the time I start having an allergy attack from my own sheets.

I could not afford to get my back cracked this month so I get to be in : ) a fantastic amount of pain because it costs me 40 dollars per crack and that is with my disability discount because medicare doesn't give a shit about me or you.

I finally broke down today and called and asked to be put on the waitlist for the other apartments that have less bedbug issues, but got rushed off the phone and hung up on by the secretary before I could ask any questions about the pricing differences or anything. And because I can't guarantee that they won't come inspect my apartment or come harass me to ask me why I want to switch (remember kids, low income landlords are not your friend and will harass and threaten to put you on the street at every possible turn), I just had to speed clean my apartment which caused me a ridiculous amount of pain.

My back hurts, my ankles hurt, I can't stop crying and I just want to die right now. I'll probably be okay in a few hours, but fuck man I'm tired.

[smeraldos]

happier [part 2]

You weren’t picky, but you might be soon, given the way your dates turned out. The men you met were either as boring as a drive through the desert (cue the tumbleweeds) or charming until they ghosted (also cue the tumbleweeds). At this point, dating felt hopeless, and you were ready to call it quits.

Jin doesn’t exactly agree, chaotically good friend that he is. He’s determined to help you, and it starts like this…

genre: fluff, comedy, angst

pairings: seokjin/reader, jeongguk/reader

tags: jin the mischief-maker matchmaker, mutual pining, possibly unrequited love

the rest of the story: part 1. Jin (who you've fallen for, but let's forget about it, okay) sets you up with someone. He just won't tell you who. You take matters into your own hands and find, through Yoongi, that your date's contact name starts with a "Ki."

a/n: shout-out to the anon who left a message about loving these two! hope you enjoy.

Kim’s 7/11

Ready when you are

Also

What's her opinion…

The message disappears quicker than you can read it, but it isn’t the content you're interested in.

It's who it's from.

Kim's 7/11, though a funny nod to the Netflix show, starts with a "Ki." Whether or not he's your date…you’ll have to find out.

To take Jin's phone, you need to distract him, and attempt #1 involves tapping out a tarantella on your armrest. You hated playing the piece when you were younger, the tempo frantic and almost impossible to keep up with. Jin, however, is hardly bothered. He doesn’t spare you a glance.

Attempt #2 involves opening and closing the clasp on your purse, the clicking sound annoying even yourself, before letting go with a sigh. Still, no glance from Jin. At this point, it would take a kangaroo crossing the street to get his attention, and even then, his gaze wouldn't stray far from where his phone is propped, message unanswered.

There goes your chance of getting to it.

"What's up?" 

Or so you thought.

Jin is looking at you expectantly, so you paste on a look you hope says you're fine, but you're really not fine. "Nothing."

"Nice try," he quips. "Now, if you didn't let out the saddest sigh in the history of sighs, then maybe, maybe, I'd believe you."

"Oh, shut up. I'm just…" You stare out the window a moment, the view pristine without a Yoshi plushie in your way. Somehow, it looks a little bare. "Antsy."

"Nervous?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, whatever it is, you’re making me nervous with—" A triple honk startles you both, so he grits his teeth and resumes driving. "Quick, take my phone, pick a playlist, and stop fidgeting. Passcode is your mom's birthday. I'm gonna let the guy pass and give him a friendly honk or four."

"Are you crazy?" As much as your fingers itch to grasp his phone, you can't. The driver Jin wants to enact his revenge on could put you both through the wringer.

Jin rolls his eyes so hard you can feel it. "Oh, come on, I'm not actually going to do it," he says, much to your relief. "It just makes me feel better to say I am. But the passcode I'm serious about. Your sister seems to think my phone is free real estate."

You'd scold her on his behalf if you weren’t about to do the same thing. "Want me to switch it back?"

"Please. 041292. I'll change it later. And pick a playlist while you're at it."

Jin's phone unlocks easily, his screen giving way to an image of a little girl's cheeks pressed against a car window. She's making a silly face, no doubt copying him, and sure enough, you catch a reflection of Jin pouting on the side.

Seeing the two of them is enough to make you second-guess snooping. Then again, you wouldn't need to if he weren't intent on keeping your date a secret.

The message from Kim's 7/11 reads:

Ready when you are

Also

What's her opinion on flowers?

A giddy rush of energy sweeps over you, one you try to tamp down as you type out your response:

no thx, she says. she wants to know your name.

Kim’s 7/11

I can't believe you still haven't told her. TELL HER

Me

i'm the friend

Kim's 7/11

o

O

OOoo

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Kim’s 7/11

Well-played 👏👏👏 And does this brilliant friend have a number?

You'd be wittier if you had the time. Instead, you send your number, reset Jin's passcode, and pick a playlist starting with "Teenage Dirtbag." Heart pounding, you put his phone back.

"Finally," Jin says, but he isn’t addressing you. The traffic is beginning to let up, and the few miles to your destination — also a surprise — go by without a hitch.

A rococo-style building comes into view, the print above the entrance reading Le festin. In high school, you took German, so festin could mean total dunce and you'd still think it's pretty. Either your date is pretentious or desperate to impress.

"Just your type, then," Jin quips when you joke about it. You have half a mind to throttle him.

"Kim, for two," your date tells the hostess, and is promptly surprised when he hears you exclaim, "Wait, that's my reservation, too!"

The hostess takes your outburst in stride, motioning for a waiter to lead the two of you to your table. "Right this way," the waiter says, and you use the time to catch your breath, slowly feeling your flushed cheeks cool off. You can't bring yourself to talk to your date yet, and luckily, he hasn't started talking to you, either.

In fact, his face is unreadable as he rounds the table and takes the chair backed into a gilded column. Curiously, it's also the seat harder to get out of, and he'd done so without any indication from you.

"Can I start you two off with any drinks?" The waiter asks, and because you’re sitting closer to him, his question is directed at you. So maybe this isn't a good spot. You chance a glance at your date, who looks completely at ease reading his menu and ignoring you.

Helpless, you skim the page until you land on a drink you recognize. "I'll have a Merlot, please."

"Excellent," the waiter says, jotting it down. "And you, sir?"

"Just water would be fine."

"Alright, I'll be back with your drinks shortly."

Your date smiles, folding his menu while you study yours for what must be the tenth time. Appetizers you can wing, but if you choose the wrong main course, you'd waste a majority of your dinner. That, and you need a minute to think. You have a feeling your date wouldn't warm up to your icebreakers, and if Jin weren't on a date himself, you'd ask him how in the world he thought you'd click with the man sitting before you.

For one, Kim's 7/11 — Taehyung — is not someone you'd see catching the train to Manhattan. He's someone you'd see on a show catching the train to Manhattan, if that.

With his tailored suit jacket and unbuttoned collar, he looks more at home in the backseat of an S-class. Preferably one with high mileage, and one he could drive if he wanted, a veined hand steering the wheel while the lights played off his strong profile, much as they were doing here. The candlelight, upon last glance, dipped his skin in honey-gold. And while being a looker is a definite plus in your book, he isn't as approachable as he'd been over text.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

You look up to meet his gaze, wide and sincere in a way you didn't expect. “I'll switch seats with you if you'd like,” he explains, then stage-whispers, “but between you and me, yours is the comfier one. I wouldn't complain if you want me to take it.”

A grin plays at the corners of his lips, his eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. There's something to be said about dates who make you feel at home and just how rare it is. "Thank you," you say with a smile, "though I'll take your word for it. If I didn't know any better, I’d think you wanted my seat."

"Then it's a good thing we're about to know each other," he says smoothly. "I'm Jeongguk, by the way."

Your reply comes a second too late. "Jeongguk?"

"Yeah," he says, now confused. "Is something wrong?"

Kim's 7/11 told you his name was Taehyung. That's what you'd saved his contact name as, and the two of you confirmed your reservation was the same.

"Shoot," you mutter, pulling on your purse and preparing to stand. "I'm so sorry, I don't think I was meant to be your date. It was nice meet—"

He interrupts with your name. "That's who I was supposed to meet tonight. I'm guessing that isn't you?"

"No, that is me," you say slowly. "I'm just…hold on a minute. If you'll excuse me."

You extract your phone, dead set on wringing the truth out of Jin when you see a new message. A few new messages, in fact:

taehyung

And Jeongguk is your date. I'll let him introduce himself, but if you need the dirt on him...🫡

jin from orientation

btw your fate is Jeongguk Jeon

*date

nvm fate kinda has a nice ring to it 💍

you're welcome

You slip your phone back into your purse, choosing to respond to Taehyung later (Jin, you'll ignore). "So," you say to Jeongguk, who has done some quick validation of his own, based on the phone he looks up from, "I have some good news and I have some bad news."

Jeongguk doesn't hesitate. "What's the bad news?"

"I don't know French cuisine."

"And the good news?"

"I'm your date."

"Ah," he says, a hint of a smile gracing his face, "I know a great spot for jjajangmyun. Want to go?"

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 22b

*Warning Adult Content*

MINE - Part 2

"Five minutes."

"What?"

"We're waiting five more minutes and then we'll go in there together if the Doc hasn't already come out with some news," Josie says, softening her tone. "I got your back, okay? Always."

Knox nods and bites the inside of his jaw to keep from getting choked up.

It's been a long time since he's felt this... low.

This worthless.

This hopeless and utterly exhausted.

Like nothing will ever go right no matter how hard he pushes himself.

The last time he felt like this had been when his mother passed away and that was several years ago.

He'd felt whatever it is that was beyond numb, and the support that he desperately needed was nonexistent.

These days, he feels like he's barely holding on but he's grateful because he doesn't have to go through life's dips alone anymore.

His brothers are great but they're also the opposite of sensitive.

Their advice usually falls along the line of 'You'll get over it, bro. Drink a beer and stop stressing.'

By far, Josie is the best at providing comfort and encouragement.

Knox would always joke about how she should go back to school to become a therapist.

"Oof. Somebody just woke up," Josie giggles, reaching for Knox's hand.

She places it where hers had been on her stomach and his eyes light up when he feels a little kick.

"It still boggles my mind that there's a human being growing in there."

"You ready for them to come out?" Knox asks.

"I don't know. Some days I think I'm ready for motherhood, and some days... I... I feel like a hot mess who doesn't deserve to be anyone's mother," Josie confesses, tears welling up in her eyes. "Sorry. My hormones are all over the place right now."

Knox doesn't have a therapist hat that he can put on, so he's shit at giving advice.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls Josie in for a brief hug, allowing her to have her moment.

They separate when the door to the bedroom opens and the doctor steps out with his supplies.

"How is he?" Knox blurts out.

"Stressed," Keith answers. "And mildly dehydrated but Mr. Robinson will live to see another day. I gave him my wife's card..."

"Great. You think he's going crazy," Knox mutters, growing uneasy. "This is bullshit."

"No, it's real life. My wife is a licensed psychologist who specializes in trauma, which he exhibits symptoms of," Keith clarifies, defensively. "She can help him. I told Mr. Robinson the first five sessions will be free. She's spoken with a few of you before, so of course everything will be kept off record. Whether Mr. Robinson reaches out or not is up to him but in the meantime, keep fluids in him and... uh, try to keep your 'club business' out of his sight."

Feeling unrightfully judged, Knox narrows his eyes and steps forward with clenched fists.

"Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Doc," Josie moves to stand in front of Knox while waving for Keith to hustle his ass down the hall. "Your money is waiting for you in the kitchen with Gavin. Safe travels back home. Goodbye."

"You all take care now," Keith nods, then speed walks down the hall without looking back.

"I know you're itching to get in there, so tell Everett I'll check on him later," Josie squeezes Knox's arm, pulling his attention back to her. "If you need anything, you know where to find me. And don't forget about what I said earlier..."

"Your sermon is saved, Red," Knox taps at his temple.

They share another hug before she turns around and leaves.

A good portion of the tension that'd been wrecking his body dissipates when he enters his bedroom and sees Everett sitting up going through one of his many shopping bags.

"Hey. You should be resting, not... doing whatever the hell you're doing."

"I've got to find it."

Everett ignores him and continues with his search.

He doesn't hear the door close or the lock switch.

He doesn't acknowledge Knox's presence when he sits on the bed, not until the bag gets snatched away from him.

"Hey. I was..."

"Not resting," Knox interjects, his voice soft but firm. "You should shower and get some sleep. It's been a long fucking day for the both of us."

Everett nods in agreement, breaking eye contact as he nervously fiddles with his hands on his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For sneaking off like I did. Today wouldn't have... Everything that happened today is all on me. I almost got my friends killed. I almost got you killed," his voice cracks and his pretty brown eyes glisten with fresh tears.

He quickly wipes them away before they fall.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass. If you... If you want to send me back home, then I'd understand. I wouldn't hold it against you, I swear."

"Look at me, Everett."

"I am not sending you any fucking where. The thought has never crossed my mind," Knox places his index finger underneath Everett's chin, gently forcing his head up until their eyes meet.

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine to..." the four letter word dies in Knox's throat.

He swallows hard before continuing.

"You're mine, kitten. I'm not letting you go."

'Not Yet.'

"Do you believe me?" Knox asks.

"Yes," Everett responds, reaching for Knox's hand.

He pulls it away from his face to kiss Knox's bruised knuckles.

"Are you in pain right now?"

"I..." Knox's heart swells with emotion at the tender gesture.

He shakes his head.

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

He can deal with a few bruised knuckles.

What he can't deal with is Everett's pale appearance and the absence of his smart mouth.

"Doc said you're stressed out, which I get but also dehydrated."

"Yeah, I'm a little lightheaded but other than that, I'm okay. I drank a bottle of water but I probably need to drink a few more before I go to sleep."

Knox nods in agreement.

"I was going to suggest the same thing."

"Also, I don't want to sleep in that other room anymore," Everett confesses. "Want to stay in here with you. Can I?"

Knox smirks.

"I planned to move your shit back in here after you went to sleep, so we're on the same page."

They share a laugh.

"Need you to be honest with me, kitten. Will you?"

Everett nods.

"What's on your mind?"

"I want to know what you and Finn argued about."

Everett doesn't hold anything back as he tells Knox about the argument he had with Finn.

Knox sits quietly and listens, his blank expression giving nothing away.

"I get it now. He was just looking out for you," Everett finishes. "Please don't be pissed at him whenever you see him again, okay? We've already apologized to each other through text. I'm over it."

"I'm not. He never should have let you out of his fucking sight," Knox grumbles.

"I almost knocked his head off with a hot frying pan. I would've let me leave if I were him," Everett laughs.

Knox grunts in response, softening a little.

"Can I have my bag back now? I was looking for something important before you rudely snatched it away."

"Looking for what?" Knox raises a brow, curious.

"I'm not telling you... yet," Everett grins, mischievously. "Now give me the damn bag."

Knox responds with a playful eye roll but does as he's told.

Everett resumes his search, soon letting out a high-pitched squeal when he finds the item that he had been looking for.

"Close your eyes," Everett orders. "Now."

Knox sighs.

"What the hell are you planning?"

"Just close your damn eyes, man."

Knox huffs and obeys, then Everett proceeds to rummage through his pants pockets.

When he finds Knox's keys, they jingle for several seconds and then Everett grabs Knox's left hand to give him the keys back.

Knox can't tell the difference in them until after Everett tells him to open his eyes.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you." Everett holds his breath as he watches Knox inspect the small keychain with a mixture of amusement and affection. "I-I know you're not really an accessories kind of guy, so you don't have to keep it on there if you don't..."

"I love it," Knox lightly traces his thumb along the tiny panda's head, unable to stop the blush from settling in his cheeks. "Can't even remember the last gift I received, so this is..."

A cute little panda with a beaming grin and one paw lifted in greeting.

A simple gift to some but a priceless gift to Knox.

"It means a lot. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Everett can't help but feel a sense of warmth spreading throughout his body.

He figured Knox might get a kick out of the silly keychain and laugh.

Nothing could've prepared Everett for this type of vulnerable reaction.

"There's one more thing I want to give you, though."

Knox finally looks up.

"What's that?"

"Me."

Everett places a hand on Knox's cheek, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes just before leaning in to press their lips together.

[shiny-jr]

Henlo Shiny, could I get a yan!ruggie scenario? I don't see enough yan content for the sly hyena. Maybe how he first fell for darling? Or any scenario would do.

Thank you and I hope to see your blog grow!

Warning: Yandere if you squint really really really hard. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Ruggie Bucchi.

Summary: Just word vomit that slowly forms some semblance of Ruggie content.

Note: Wanted to write for this last night but I got distracted by drawing. Here, have a doodle of a lil' hyena guy in these trying times. Also, this request was in the inbox forever, before the 2,000 follower special, so the blog has grown! Yeah, so this scenario is more Ruggie and MC meeting before the yandere part because a character doesn’t just immediately meet a person and go “yeah, I’d kill for them.” That’s not how it works. So, like mentioned in the warning, you can barely notice the “yandere element” in this piece. I hope that’s okay.

Ruggie had his eyes on you for a while now. Oh, but not for the romantic mushy reasons one would normally presume. No, he didn't care at all for you, he cared more for what was on you. Jewelry. It wasn't much, in fact in was puny thin silver necklace with a pendant, which was nothing when compared to the other students from wealthy backgrounds. However, it was an easy steal, literally. Judging by your attitude, you were a little more trusting and nicer than the average Night Raven College student, plus your skills weren't outstanding enough to notice him or fight back if things got hairy, and you weren't from some prestigious background that would come back to bite him later when he stole from you. You were supposed to be an easy target.

After a week of reconnaissance, Ruggie could confidently say he was prepared to make his move. For days he hungrily eyed the silver on your neck, his fingers itching to swipe it for himself. Yet due to past... incidents with other thieves failing to cover up their tracks or getting caught in the process, he was forced to put more effort into his attempts to get past the students with their guard up. Of course, there were some students that should not be trifled with, but you weren’t one of them. 

Yeah, he considered how you may be sentimentally attached to the thing. It made sense since you wore it daily, he never really saw you without it. But he decided the the madol he could earn by selling it to buy extra lunch money or cash to send home was worth way more than any sappy sentimentality. 

However, during his time keeping an eye out for the necklace, he couldn’t help but notice little things about the person who wore it, despite not really caring for you. You had a nice smile and you weren’t so rude or conniving, which was a rarity in this school. You were like the bright yellow dandelion that miraculously thrived and survived between the cold hard gray concrete. Slowly, more often than he would’ve liked, his gaze would go from that shining silver chain, travel up your neck and past your jaw, all the way to your face until he caught himself staring. 

His interest was piqued, that was all, he convinced himself. It’s not everyday you see a goody-two-shoes at Night Raven College, a student that seemed like they would fit in more at that shiny prissy and uptight Royal Sword Academy. Well, turns out he wasn't completely right about the goody-two-shoes part... 

Stealing was like a natural skill to him. However, there was a trick to it and different difficulties. Stealing a necklace was one of the harder accessories to steal, as it was very close to their line of vision and sometime had different ways to take it off. The best way to steal one was create a distraction and when the victim’s attention was on said distraction, sneak up from behind and swipe the necklace. And because of his previous reconnaissance, he knew that this particular necklace was a clip-on from the back. 

So, for the distraction. During flight lessons, the perfect setting. As he was in the air, seated comfortably on the broom, he did a quick scan of his surroundings. There you were on the ground, watching the others fly overhead as you gripped your own broom. This was it, the perfect moment. Targeting another classmate a few feet away who was on the broom above the ground, low enough if he fell to not cause any fatal injuries but high enough to cause a ruckus–– he activated his unique magic. 

Laugh with me. 

With a swift movement and switching off the magic, it was enough to throw the unsuspecting student off balance. Quickly Ruggie stuck a landing behind you as the rest of the class watched the other student in the air being to topple off their broom. Now, everyone was distracted, waiting with bated breath to see if he would crash or somehow miraculously be saved–– even you appeared to be distracted by the sudden commotion. 

Perfect. Those sticky little fingers of his reached for the clip on the necklace, successfully undoing it without touching you. He gripped the chain and a triumphant grin spread on his face, quickly pulling away–– Click! 

It wouldn’t budge...? Instantly his hand was caught and his proud grin broke into a nervous smile. Shit... This was the first time he was caught in the act. 

“Aha! I knew it! It was you! Ace and Deuce had told me their stuff was stolen, and I almost didn’t believe it. But looks they were right, and you fell for the bait! I’ll take that, thanks.” Snatching back the part of the silver necklace still in his hands, you held onto his wrist to prevent him from running. “You weren’t watching me this week because you wanted to talk to me, you were watching me because you wanted this, huh?”

As you were talking, that’s when Ruggie saw it. An extra little chain connecting your necklace to the back of your tie, meaning it couldn’t be stolen unless someone undid the part connected to your tie. That was... unexpected. He presumed you were some goody-goody naive little student–– turns out after all that time spent watching you, he presumed wrong. He didn’t know you like he thought, but now... The blonde could only give a nervous laugh, making no effort to pry himself out of your grip, “Let’s not be too hasty! I do wanna talk to you now.”

[quinncupine]

May I request Alpha Bakugo, Midoriya, and Todoroki (seperate) always protecting their Omega reader? How would they react if another alpha tried to claim the omega? Likee hmm say for example the two are walking on the street then another alpha just jumps in and talks about like how attractive reader's scent is and stuff! It is alright if youre not comfortable with writing with this many characters, this ABO au, or this idea in general!

Notes: Hi Anon! I’m so sorry this took longer than expected to do! I promise I didn’t forget you! I don’t really know much about the ABO au so I had to do a bit of research first. I’m not really sure if I landed it though, but I did have fun writing it! It’s always fun to try out something new, so I do hope you enjoy it! I also tried to keep it gender-neutral.

Warnings: Language, mild violence, slight blood, possessive behavior, Alpha-Omega au, drinking-drunken behavior

Word Count: ~2.7K

Wanna request something?

...

BAKUGO

Katsuki is the definition of aggressive. It's no surprise he'd be just as aggressive as an Alpha, especially when it came to you. Your mere presence was enough to send him into ultra possessive protective mode.

The two of you were heading back to your shared apartment after one of your weekly date nights. Since he was a pro hero, he didn't often have much free time, so he set aside a specific night each week, just for you. He wasn't the best at showing his love through words, so his actions more than made up for the fact.

A muscled arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked through the deserted street. The ground seemed to be swaying a bit, or that might've just been you. One drink too many could do that. Katsuki warned you not to drink so much, but you didn't listen and as much as he complained that he wouldn't carry you home, he still held most of your body weight up by a single firm hand.

"I love you," you cooed, dropping your head into his shoulder with a smile.

His hand tightened around you and a cocky grin spread across his face. "I know."

With a slight pout, you huffed, "say it back."

The tiniest roll of his eyes before he grabbed your chin with his free hand and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. You were about to question him but his lips silenced you with a deep kiss. "You know I do." He tried to sound annoyed, but you could see straight through it.

He wouldn't be caught dead being this sentimental with you if anyone else was nearby, especially if another Alpha was near. To him, acting like that opened someone up for weakness, and with you on the line, he would never allow that. But since it was just the two of you alone, he allowed himself to show just a slight bit of passion. These little moments were reserved solely for you.

Wrapping your arms around him as much as you could, you let out a heavy sigh with sleepy eyes. The peaceful night air had a bit of a chill to it, but that was nothing compared to the heavenly warmth radiating from his body. That was until you felt his whole person stiffen.

Confused, you looked up. Then the smell hit you. Another Alpha's scent. Even in your hazy state, it smelled overwhelming, intentional…and all-too aggressive. It literally smelled like trouble. You'd had trouble in the past with other Alpha's coming on way too strong, which was one of the reasons why you were so grateful to have found Katsuki. He doesn't put up with any bullshit and isn't afraid to fight others off.

Katsuki's nails dug into your waist, his feet abruptly coming to a stop. Jaw clenched so hard, teeth nearly cracking from the pressure. Ruby-red eyes narrowed into deadly slits. A vicious snarl itching to see some action. It was a sight you were used to seeing from him. Criminals and heroes alike tried to avoid that exact look he was wearing right now.

Plenty of Alpha's had tried to come onto you in the past, but none have been so bold as to outright try to challenge Katsuki, especially in the dead of night on some deserted street. The moment they got a whiff of that dangerous heady scent, dripping with aggression and possessiveness, they immediately backed off. He didn't know the meaning of mercy.

When you turned your head to pinpoint the source of the scent, he twisted around first, swinging you to his back in one easy motion. The street looked empty from where you poked your head around his arm.

"Get lost fuckwad," he growled, "or die."

The shadows shifted and a man clad in loose black clothes that blended into the darkness so well you were having a hard time keeping your eyes on him. It was only when he stepped into the glow of a streetlamp from a block away did you finally see him clearly. He casually crossed his arms behind his head. A way of showing Katsuki that he wasn't threatened in the slightest. Even a full block away the poignant smell of him invaded your nose.

"What a temper on this one," he purred with a sultry charm guised to disarm, a complete contradiction of his hostile scent. "You know babe, you'd be much better off with me."

"Don't fucking talk to them," Katsuki snapped, fingers digging into the fabric covering your arm. "Or I'll kill you."

"It's not worth it," you tugged on his jacket a bit. "Let's just go."

Even as you said it, you knew it was pointless. Katsuki never backs down from a fight. Violence is ingrained in his DNA.

"Gonna take orders from an Omega? At least I know how to keep them in place, like a real Alpha," he smirked, crossing the street. A deep growl rumbled in Katsuki's chest, but the other Alpha ignored it. "Can't you smell it? I could smell their scent three blocks away."

You were on suppressants but alcohol is notorious for diluting their effect and of course, you had to show him up and drink more than him tonight. Was your scent out of control? You didn't think so and Katsuki hadn't said anything about it all night. You couldn't smell it, but if that Alpha had followed you all this way, it must've been strong.

As the Alpha drew closer, you realized just how bulky the man was. He stood taller than Katsuki by almost a foot and that grin stitched into his face was making you nervous. The whole situation was stressing you out so much Katsuki could most likely smell it comes off you in waves. His bright vermillion eyes found yours and he huffed. That instinct to protect was warring with his compulsion for reckless abandon. Before he could say anything, the Alpha made the first move.

With a snap of his teeth, the burly man took off towards Katsuki and Katsuki didn't waste a second. He pushed you back and charged. The two met in a head-on collision. A bright explosion lit up the darkened street with an echoing boom. When the light faded and the smoke cleared, Katsuki stood over his opponent, an angry snarl spilling from his grinning face as he smashed his foot into the Alpha's singed back. What was the phrase? All bark and no bite.

Once he was sure the Alpha was down for the count, he trudged over to you. Without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away. After a few minutes, he deemed it far enough and stopped to pull you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

"The nerve of these assholes," he muttered, eyes still glaring at the soft shadows surrounding them. He wouldn't feel better until you were back home, under his watchful eye. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you mumbled into his shirt, closing your eyes with a relieved sigh. "I'm always fine when I'm with you."

MIDORIYA

Izuku isn't a typical Alpha. His demeanor is usually quiet and kind so it always surprised most people to find out he was one. Only making sense when he went into battle mode. The sheer ferocity this guy displays while fighting is one of the most intense things anyone will experience. R.I.P any brave soul that decides to challenge him. He gives it his all, especially if it means protecting someone under his care; namely you.

After leaving the theater (yes, Izuku drags you to each new All Might Movie premier, and no, you don't have a choice in the matter) you lean into him, listening to him gush about every detail the movie had gotten right or horribly wrong. This man was a serious fanboy. His voice was soothing to hear to so you could listen to him prattle on forever if you had your way.

The two of you had almost made it to the car when someone stumbled into you. If Izuku hadn't had his arm around your waist, you would've fallen down with the obviously drunk man. He pulled you away from the drunkard and did a quick check to make sure you weren't hurt before turning his attention to the man. "Hey, are you alright buddy?"

"Dammit!" the man groaned as he crawled back to his feet, swaying from side to side once he made it up. "Watch where you're goin'," he slurred out, lips having a hard time forming the words. Then he sniffed and blinked a few times, focusing on you. "Mmm, you smell good."

Izuku stiffened, subtly stepping in front of you, eyes narrowed. "Your drunk, it's time you went home."

"What's a lovely thing like you doing out so late?" he ignored Izuku entirely, puffing out his chest with a sleazy grin. That's when the scent hit you. Strong, mixed with the smell of alcohol. It made your nose wrinkle in disgust. "Come here doll, I can take good care of ya."

A low rumble vibrated deep within Izuku's chest. A warning. A threat. Most sensible Alpha's would've taken the cue, but this guy was far from anything resembling sense. Izuku is, for the most part, a rational Alpha, but when the drunkard stepped closer to touch you, he lost it.

It was so quick, you almost missed it. Izuku snatched the grimy hand, twisted it which in turn forced the man to twist as well, and sent him flying with a powerful kick to the rear. He kicked him so hard the Alpha flew halfway across the parking lot, landing in a small puddle with a loud splash. It took a moment for him to roll over, body still trying to process what just happened before finally falling back into the puddle with a long-winded groan.

Izuku stood rigid, eyes locked on the Alpha who had curled in on himself. He gnashed his teeth a few times trying to even out his huffy breaths. Small sparks of green electricity quietly crackled off his skin.

"Izuku?" you grabbed one of his fisted hands and pulled it close.

He looked down at you, still trying to calm his racing heart. Izuku didn't like to get like this in front of you and that in itself was making him more upset. But a part of him loved the fact that he could protect you so easily and that you took comfort in that fact.

The Alpha, apparently too drunk to remember what just happened, rolled out of the puddle and back to his feet. His back was dripping wet, but he didn't even seem to notice as he staggered off into the night.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, finally turning to you.

You wrapped your arms around his muscly frame, fingertips just barely meeting on his back. "What're you sorry for? You protected me, didn't you?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Pride swelled in his chest. A slight tinge rushed to his cheeks so he tucked his face into your neck, nuzzling his nose deep into the crook. Your scent was always so calming and he stayed like that for a minute until he remembered you were both still standing outside the car. "Let's go home."

TODOROKI

Shoto is a strong silent Alpha. He's probably the calmest of the three, but that doesn't mean he won't hesitate to kick anyone's ass if they dare mess with you. He's mastered the evil eye glare and combined with his natural Alpha aura, most steer clear.

You had decided to take a day trip to the next prefecture over to see your friends and had asked Shoto to pick you up from the train station. So, there he was, standing on the platform, umbrella in hand as the rain came down in a steady, freezing pour.

When the train finally pulled in, he scanned the cars until he saw you step out. Even in the heavy rain, he could pick up your scent and it was screaming distress. It confused him until he saw why…or rather smelled why. Stepping out behind you was a lanky man, mere inches from your back. His grinning face was bent next to yours as he talked with you, well more like at you. Large hands ghosted over your hair, taking in heavy whiffs of you. A grimace stuck on your face as you did everything in your power to ignore him, but trying to ignore an Alpha was like trying to ignore a blowhorn to the face. Loud, obnoxious, and completely overwhelming. The longer you ignored him, the more irritated he grew.

Shoto snapped the umbrella closed so hard he almost broke it. He no longer cared about getting wet and used the tip to wedge himself between the crowd of people. The hair on his neck stood on end. The rain on his right side froze the minute it touched his skin while on his left, it turned to steam. He tried to suppress that ball of rage building in the back of his throat, only for an aggravated growl to escape. Anyone who managed to catch his wrathful gaze quickly jumped out of his warpath.

The Alpha placed his hand on your shoulder and that was the final straw. You turned to swat him off, which was apparently the wrong thing to do. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you right up against him, dark eyes narrowed, teeth bared. Panic took over as you struggled to free yourself from his too-tight grip.

An umbrella came out of nowhere, whacking the Alpha right in the nose. He let go of your wrist with a startled yelp, stumbling back a few feet.

Shoto suddenly materialized between the two of you. You'd been so distracted that you didn't even realize you could smell Shoto's scent. But now that he was up close, it was all you could smell. Strong, powerful, and…furious.

"What the fu-AAAH!" With a scream, he toppled over. Both legs were frozen together in a thick column of ice. He hit the ground hard, head smacking on the wet concrete.

Shoto towered over him, shooting that perfected evil eye, face masked in shadows. "Next time," he growled, voice low and terrifyingly calm, "I'd advise not to touch people without their permission." Crouching next to his head, he glanced down at his left hand where a small flame erupted, and despite the pouring rain, only seemed to grow brighter. "Or you might get burned."

The man wisely stilled, eyes wide. "I didn't know they already had a mate dude, I swear."

"Regardless, don't ever let me catch you treating someone like that again," he snapped his hand closed, extinguishing the flame. "Is that understood?"

The threat was heard loud and clear but the Alpha glanced at you and Shoto grabbed his chin and pulled his gaze back to him. "Don't ever look at them again."

A nod and Shoto threw his face to the side, standing up. Taking a moment to compose himself again, he turned to you, hunched in on yourself, looking slightly embarrassed. Too many people were staring because Shoto had made a scene. He could care less about what other people thought. Someone had messed with you and he had to make it right.

Holding a hand out, you accepted it and he ushered you away. The both of you were soaking wet but he still opened the umbrella again, shielding you from the rain. Once you were far enough away from the station and other people, he stopped to inspect you.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking for any obvious signs or lingering scent marks.

"No, I'm fine." You hugged yourself, not sure if you were shivering from the cold wet or from that creep, possibly both.

With a frown, he pulled you in close. His left side immediately warmed you up and you buried your head as far as you could into his chest, that familiar, safe scent surrounding you. "Thanks, Sho."

That intense anger was slowly ebbing away the longer you held onto him. That need to protect, to comfort taking its place.  You alone were the only thing that seemed to be able to calm him down when he was so worked up. Wrapping his free arm around you, tucking you in as tightly as possible, he kissed the top of your head. "You know I'd do anything for you."

[kazanovah]

Pairings: Bonten trio x f!reader

Warnings: mature themes 18+

Synopsis: after losing everything to the military she served for, reader is hell bound on seeking out her vengeance.

MNDI 18+

Part 1| next|

Your life has been nothing but utter chaos. Trapped between abusive parents and the horrendous bullies that stalked you like a lion hunting it's prey, it seemed you could never catch a break in life as you constantly fought for your right — the right to be treated like a human being.

Nothing in your life had gone right until you met him, Ren Saito. He had been your saving grace from the chaotic mess that had become your life as he had been the first one to show you kindness after he had transferred to your high school. He was gentle, he listened to you, and most of all he saw you for who you really were.

So when he proposed and you happily pledged your life to him, you also pledged your allegiance to the military as well. Because to put it quite simply, you would simply do anything for your husband right? No matter the cost, and til death do you part.

Five faithful years of marriage, and five horrifying yet faithful years to the military. You ranked up quickly, filling into the role of lieutenant in your second year and being able to command a squadron of men into battle. Of course you taken many lives, seen many die, but you've somehow managed to save just as many, if not more and that thought had always been so rewarding.

Until the night your life came crashing down around you. The events that unfolded that bloody, merciless night will forever haunt your mind and plague your dreams where they would turn into gruesome flashbacks of what had happened to you. The things so pitifully awful that it earned you an honourable discharge, and you had found yourself coming home alone, now a widow - and it had been that way for the last three years.

"Your martini, miss." The bartender said, breaking you from your thoughts as he set the glass down on the wooden flounder before sliding it over to you. You look down at the drink, with two olives and ordered extra dry - just to your liking and smirked the slightest bit.

You had developed a habit of drowning your sorrows in the most unhealthy ways, and there was no one around to stop you.

"Thank you." You said, flashing the younger male a toothy grin and smirking internally when you saw his flustered state.

Flirting is becoming easier, maybe I can strike back sooner than I thought, you thought to yourself as you bright the glass to you red painted lips before taking a long sip of the alcohol, the warm fluid trailing easily down your throat.

As you looked around the bustling nightclub, that was when you finally saw them.

A group of veterans who you had served with and commanded, walking into the nightclub with a group of formally dressed business men. You couldn't deny the way the business men were sinfully hot, and you found yourself tracing the rim of your glass with your index finger as you watched from afar.

A male with a pink mullet looked like he was about to pass out as he stumbled a little bit behind the group, and you squinted as you made out the faint outline of diamond shaped scars on the sides of his lips.

Interesting, you thought. I swear I've seen him before.

You didn't have very much time to reminisce as you felt your blood beginning to boil when you saw the man responsible for your misfortune, and you gripped the glass so tight you feared it would break between your fingers. You had to bite on your tongue to keep from calling out to the man, and you felt yourself itching towards the gun holstered to the inside of your thigh.

Not here. You told yourself. You knew that you were going to get your revenge on them, you knew that you were going to bring justice to your husbands name, but you also knew that you needed to be smart and trail them for just a little bit longer.

After all, you've already waited three years, whats a few more days?

Downing the rest of your drink, you ordered another and just continued to sit at the bar, periodically looking over to watch the group of twelve men conversing amongst themselves. You could tell the business men were wary of the veterans before them, which was odd considering the publicity and honours we would get from passing civilians, but they had every right to feel that way about them.

After all, they took everything from you and who's to say that you were their only victim?

After about an hour, you saw them getting up to leave so you slipped a wad of cash which was definitely way more than necessary, and stood up from the bar. You causally followed behind the group, but not too closely that they would notice you. When you saw the group parting ways, you decided to follow the group of unsuspecting businessmen towards a limo parked in the lot, pausing to duck between two vehicles when you saw the men stopping.

"Do you think they're legit?" A tall, well built male with a deep scar running along the side of his face asked, uncertainty clear in his deep tone.

"I don't know Kakucho, but what other choice do we have? We're running out of options." The smallest male said, running his fingers through his platinum white undercut in minor frustration.

"Thinks we should follow em." The male with the pink mullet slurred, earning a scoff from a tall male with a scar going down his left eye and you watched as a puff of smoke from his lit cigarette filled the air around him.

"I think you should go home and sleep this off." He said, his gruff voice was full of annoyance and you watched as he brought his right hand up to flick the pink haired males forehead.

"Hey! Watch it, Omi!" The male who had been flicked said, dramatically bringing his hands up to his forehead.

"Would the both of you cut it with the sibling rivalry?" Another skyscraper of a man asked, his lilac eyes and matching hair stuck out like a sore thumb and you realized that he was one of the three men you found to be the most attractive out of the both of them.

"Like you and little miss priss over there are any better." This comeback came from a male with long, flowing white hair who was currently looking down at his manicured nails in boredom, and you could have sworn you saw the tick marks forming on the purple haired males forehead.

"Enough. All of you. Get back to headquarters, aside from you three. Make sure Sanzu doesn't choke on his own vomit." The small white haired male said, earning a collective "yes boss," from the men with the matching mauve eyes.

When the rest of the group split and got into the idling limo, you waited until the two conscious males grabbed their friend who was on the verge of passing out before lobbing each of his arms over their shoulders and beginning to walk out of the lot with them. You noticed they had matching tattoos on the columns of their throats, and you made a mental note about the odd symbol.

This is interesting. If you follow them you might find out some more information. You thought, and you made sure to keep your distance about a block and half away at all times whilst you followed them through Roppongi.

When they made it all the way into a high end apartment, you called it quits for the evening and walked a few blocks before hailing a taxi to come and take you back to your home - somewhere you hated being due to it being so empty, yet so full of the painful memories that you've once shared with your now dead husband.

Upon walking into the door, you were immediately greeted by your two 'service dogs,' who you relied on heavily over the last three years. The larger one of the two Belgian Malinois was named Sarge, and he had served with you overseas and accompanied you on every mission. The other, the smaller female who's bite force was just as strong as her male comrades, was named Lina and you had gotten her to help you grieve the things you've lost.

Instead of going upstairs and going to bed in the wee hours of the morning, you had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt before wandering into your office and plopping down in the comfortable chair before opening up your computer and compiling the results of the data you had collected.

When you thought back to the businessmen you had followed, you noticed that two of them had matching tattoos on the collars of their throats, and you couldn't help but realize you had seen that symbol before. A quick google search quickly told you that they were in fact a part of a crime organization that was feared by the entire country - well, everyone except you.

You know that the underworld can be a dangerous place. Full of drugs, gambling, prostitution, arson, murder - you name it, the underworld most certainly has it. But you also knew that the real danger in the world, the really vile and disgusting people, were the ones controlled by the government. The ones who were meant to serve and protect.

Now knowing that a crime organization was getting involved with the government and or the military, you sighed. This was great news as you would be able to find out more information to use against your old squadron, but you also knew that this meant you would have to prolong your vengeance mission even longer now.

With a huff of annoyance, you got to work researching anything and everything you could about Bonten and their crimes. It was obvious they were untouchable to the authorities, but it made the situation even more confusing and you ran a hand through your hair in frustration as you let your mind wander.

Fucking Bonten.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

collab masterlist

✧ pairing: villain!hawks x afab!reader

✧ word count: 5k

✧ warnings: this is like all smut, angst, ambiguous but happy ending, unhealthy relationships, mentions of transactional sex, reader has a healing quirk but it's really just for poetic purposes, reader has a vagina, no other gendered parts, oral sex (reader receiving), vague metaphorical drug reference, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds, mating press, soft sex (?), sorta, slight potential could be read as dubcon but they're both into it

✧ summary: for years you've stitched hawks back together when the world has torn him to shreds—and he always pays you back, though you can't help but start want more than he can give you.

✧ a/n: hey y'all this months theme was villain/hero swap with a shared opener! please go check out all the other wonderful works in this collab, there are so many talented writers/artists involved!! credit to @/lady-bakuhoe for the amazing intro. also bonus points if you catch the old aesthetic tumblr post references.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

***

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

That fact is made even more horrifically apparent as he stumbles through your open window—and how long has it been since you’ve slept with it closed?—dripping with blood and panting from his flight.

The T.V. blares in the background, filling your tiny apartment with incessant ramblings that only grow louder by the day, and you already know what they’re going to say before they say it. Because you see him, before the reporters stumble upon heroes in the wreckage—you see what they do to him before they’re warning the public of dangerous villains loose in the streets.

They spout off about failing heroes but you think they’ve done a pretty damn good butchers job. Red feathers matted together, sticky and brown, fall in tufts from his back. You burn with shameful jealousy at the thought of those who would call themselves heroes having laid hands on what is yours.

He isn’t really yours and you know that, though you often wish you could be a bit more delusional. It might not hurt so much then.

They call him a villain. They call him a threat to society.

But even faced with the truth spilling from him and onto your creaking floors, it is easy to forget what a ruthless predator the man before you becomes when he leaves these four walls.

Especially as he falls forward on heavy feet straight into your arms, outstretched and waiting. There are stains on your shirt but you’ve known the secret for getting blood out of clothing for years now. Cold water for the fabric, warm to wash away the grime on his lovely skin.

“Gonna need you to fix me up again, sweetheart,” Hawks mumbles into your shoulder where his forehead rests.

His breathing is even more ragged now, not just from the flight.

“I know,” you reply and your hands shake when they find the gaping wound at his side—wide and deeper than the ones before. “I know. Can you walk?”

He doesn’t respond but that mop of golden hair shifts a bit as he slings an arm over your shoulder and rests his weight. You don’t need to direct him to your bedroom. This is an old game you’re playing and he knows the steps.

So do you.

Though, you’re never sure if it's dread that fills you and makes your stomach knot and your knees weak. Or if it’s that awful, momentary rush of excitement at the prospect of being able to run your fingers over him, bare and giving you free reign.

As long as he’s bleeding out on your floor.

Then you can feel him.

When he’s dying and needs you.

Needs you to fix him.

But won’t ever let you close enough to finish the job the way you want to.

You comfort yourself in with the knowledge that at least he lets you this close. At least those thin, silver-skin scars are the unmistakable mark of your healing hands. At least you’ll always haunt him like the red feather down that sticks to your pillows or between your floorboards.

So you strip him carefully and try not to let his sculpted chest distract you from the work. Hawks is silent, such a model patient as always. Only grunting when your fingers move to knit together the ragged edges of his flesh.

This will leave a nasty mark, you know it already. But you can’t find it in yourself to mourn the loss of that lovely skin.

It will only make it harder for him to forget you.

You’re knelt beside him, laid out on a towel you keep at the edge of the bed. Blood will soak through to the sheets regardless, but you try your best. He takes a sharp breath, white teeth catching the back of his hand between them to stifle groans.

You wish there was more pleasure to it. That he was biting back moans for you instead of trying not to scream as his flesh pulsed and grew hot while it was rebuilt under your fingertips. So you indulge, pretend your hands are elsewhere, roaming his perfect waistline and pulling whimpers from him.

Your dangerous, villainous, predator Hawks sprawled on his back, wings spread and cumming onto his chest under you.

The sounds above you change, and you know it hurts—must be excruciating as bone is set back into place—but you chose to believe it’s because he’s trying to keep himself from screaming your name as he reaches his release.

Hawks, you’d croon to him—Hawks because you don’t know his real name. Don’t know who he was before he started this underground life of crime on the fringes of a society that called him a monster and then turned him into one.

He isn’t a monster in your bed, though he may cry like one.

Cry as you mold his flesh and try not to look him in the face. Try to pretend they are an overflow of some better emotion. And when those summer wheat field eyes roll back in his head and those horrible pretty noises stop, you push past the growing ache in your limbs until the skin under your palms is smooth and no longer leaking thick, red blood.

And you do your best to resist the itch to feel more of him while he can’t stop you. Even with your fingers numb from overexertion, you can’t help but fall back on your heels and long for the feeling of his cheek in your hand, or his chest on your face.

But your part of the transaction is done.

And your permission doesn’t extend past these limits.

And it pains you to wish harm on him.

But it hurts even more when he does not need you.

So you sit and hate yourself and hope that those heroes with their disgusting philosophies get their shit together just a bit more. So you won’t lose your purpose. So he’ll keep coming through your window, permanently open through rainstorms and snow and spring heat.

Hawks’ breath evens slowly, and you stay still as a watched painting—no shifting eyes or moving limbs.

You crave these times like water or warm food—constant and instinctively.

And this is the only time you’ll ever have them, hands so filled with pinpricks of fried nerves that you can barely feel the soft, relaxed muscle beneath them.

What a tragedy.

What an injustice—

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

***

“Hmm,” he groans, sitting up and wincing as the new flesh protests under his movements.

“You should rest for a bit longer.”

Hawks looks at you, stretched next to him on the mattress—a purposeful few inches of space left between your bodies. It’s both selfish and practical advice.

But he isn’t here for that kind of help.

“You know I can’t just be sittin’ on my ass,” he quips, flashing you that eyes closed, wide smirk that sets your heart hammering in your chest. “Can’t have anyone tracing me back here.”

“Normally I’d agree,” you don’t find it in yourself to give the words any bite, “but you were just actively bleeding out a few minutes ago.”

“Sure, but that was a few minutes ago,” he winks and you can already feel the bed shifting as he moves to settle himself over your hips, one toned thigh on either side to bracket you against the bed. “Now, let me pay you back for all that hard work, yeah sweetheart?”

You wish the way he peered up through those long lashes, gold eyes honed in on you like a piece of meat on a hook, didn’t make your face burn this much.

It doesn’t mean anything to him.

Because this arrangement really is transactional—so you have to get something out of it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself, you think. He doesn’t know that those scant few moments you hold his life between your fingers is more than enough payment.

It’s been this way since the very first time you stumbled across him, half dead in an alley. But then you think it might have just been a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of thing that had just stuck.

You heal him and he makes you writhe on the sheets with his tongue and his hands, until you're fucked into unconscious bliss and he can slip away without your prying eyes watching him go.

But you still aren’t allowed to touch Hawks, even when he reaches into those deep parts of you and molds them to fit only him.

“You don’t—” you start to protest, partly because you want to believe you don’t want it and partly because you want to hear him insist that he does.

“Shh,” Hawks presses a calloused finger to your mouth and it takes every ounce of strength not to suck it past your lips. “I don’t like leaving my debts unpaid.”

That’s the end of your determination for the night. So you try to relax into his touch as slides your bottoms off and tosses them to the floor. Try not to clench up under those fingers that spread your legs. He doesn’t like it when you squirm away, when you flinch from his hands.

You want to think it’s because he hopes you aren’t afraid of him—of what he is—like the rest are, and not because he wants to get it over with as quickly as possible.

You want to.

But he’s so hard to read, and your mind is not often a kind place.

“Mm, god I’m always so hungry after you patch me up baby,” Hawks licks his lips as he stares down at you. “You won’t mind if I eat you right?”

You cringe at how fast your head shakes.

“Mm, course you wouldn’t.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s right though you resent it a bit that he’s got you pegged so easily.

But you’re weak, you’re no villain, you’re no hero.

And so you’ll never be able to resist him. But, damn, did you wish you had a name to cry out. Then at the very least, you could keep a part of him with you too. Then you’d have some to moan on the nights he goes uninjured and you have to bring yourself to lonely release, only thinking of him.

Of those wings spread above you like a burning, red sunset, obscuring the rest of the world from view with his blinding light.

“Hawks…” you hiss instead as he shifts your legs over his shoulders and lays his tender chest on the sheets. “Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s it gonna be tonight then?” he asks, breath ghosting over the damp folds between your thighs.

“Thought you said you were gonna use your tongue,” you whine, impatient now for any scrap of attention he’s willing to give.

“If that’s what you want,” he presses a kiss into the crease of your leg and hip, nipping the delicate skin so you whine again. “It’s whatever you want, you know that.”

It isn’t though.

It’s not whatever you want.

You can pick the position, you can ask for his mouth or his fingers, but even then, they won’t go past your neck. Your hands must stay firmly knotted in the comforter and away from him while he works. Cause he is working. This is part of the job to him, it's only in your fantasies that he’s doing it simply for the hell of it.

Hawks nudges your embarrassingly soaked slit with his nose and hums at you, “So is that what you want? Want me to eat your pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes—ngh,” you don’t get much in past the confirmation.

He’s a busy man.

He doesn’t have time for your stupid, romantic day dreams.

So he dives right in, and it’s enthusiastic enough that you can convince yourself he simply wants you that badly.

Hawks tongue licks a long strip from your hole to your clit and sucks the little bud past his plush lips. They’re a lovely, soft pink against your skin and they make a mess of you in seconds. He starts up an even rhythm, drawing circles into the nerves that sing and have heat building up in you only seconds after he’s started.

You hate that you love how well he knows your body.

You hate that you only know his when it’s shutting down.

“You taste so good, you know that?” he mumbles, lapping at you and kneading your thighs. “Could live down here just drinking you every fucking day.”

He doesn’t always talk like that but you’re happy he is now. It distracts you from the deep, ingrained urge to yank him by the hair and taste yourself on his lips.

“Makes me wish I’d let those damn heroes get hits in more often,” he’s back to panting and you keen at the sound. “Want my fingers too?”

“Fuck yes,” you don’t even bother hiding the desperation anymore.

He deserves the boost to his ego. You’d shower him with praise if he’d let you, bathe him in warm words and press them into his skin with your tongue.

But he doesn’t let you.

Hawks’ hand on your thigh trails slowly against the sensitive skin until he’s pulling back to run his fingers through your folds to ease the stretch a bit as he pushes two inside. He knows you can take what he gives to you, knows you love the way he fills you up.

Your tingling hands ache to grab his head and force his lips back as he sits for a moment, eyes glued on the space where his fingers disappear into your body. He groans low at the wet sounds your bodies make at their joining. Your legs shake where they rest on him, the one other point of contact he’s allowed. Those deadly soft feathers brush your calves as he curls his fingers up and waits expectantly for the strangled cry he pulls from you.

“There it is,” his voice is so much lower when he speaks now. “Can’t exactly show you the real ones, but how ‘bout you let me make you see some stars, huh?”

He asks so much of you. So much. So often.

In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever actively asked him for a thing he hadn’t already offered in the few years you’d known him. Hawks does it all—the taking and the giving and the demanding.

And you’re simply along for the ride, holding on for dear life lest he drop you, let you plummet like rock to the barren ground.

Still, you are mortal and you crave and you will take what you can get.

“Mhm,” you whimper when his deft fingers increase their pace, not thrusting but grinding mercilessly into that delicious spot inside.

“You wanna cum now, sweet thing?”

Then, true to his villainous nature, Hawks latches his lips back onto your clit, wracking your body with waves of truly sinful pleasure. His tongue draws quick, perfect circles across the bud just how you like. You’ll never know why it feels so much better when it’s him touching you.

How he knows exactly what you want.

Most of it.

Then his other hand is reaching around your hip, thumb taking over to press down where his tongue had been. Panting for the third time, his gorgeous head rests on your thigh and he stares dead on into your eyes. That predator yellow gaze pins you to the pillows better than any hand could and he licks across his lips while you watch, moaning as he tastes you there.

You groan deep and unabashedly at the sight.

“What is it?” he’s teasing you, unable to keep that part of his cruelty hidden even now. “What do you want?”

You shake your head and wish you could turn away, flop against the mattress and writhe but you can’t. You just can’t give up this moment that’s etching itself into your retinas—like you’re staring head on at an eclipse, celestial and short-lived.

“Tell me,” Hawks whispers, nipping at your thigh and working his fingers harder on you. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it.”

And maybe it’s the sudden heat of the room, or the little breeze from his wings spreading defensively to block you from view of his nonexistent audience—the outside world maybe? To keep you, this secret indulgence, hidden from their prying hands. Or quite possibly it’s just your own weakness at the feet of years and years of loving—because you do, you love him, it’s clear by now that’s what this is—this man whose name you don’t know and whose eyes never seem to leave you even when he’s gone.

Maybe you simply crack under the pressure of keeping this awful, looming silence for too long.

You feel your lips split at the seams and it all comes rushing out in a polluted flood—a stagnant river of secrets.

“Let me touch you,” you gasp and close your eyes then just so you won’t have to see that grin slip from his beautiful face. “Please Hawks, let me touch you. I can’t do it anymore, just—I need to kiss you, I need more.”

All this time he hadn’t let up on pulling pleasure from your skin, but he stops now, bringing your release to a screaming halt.

The quiet that follows—devoid of fast breaths and wet slapping—is suffocating.

You wish you regretted the outburst, the waste of years worth of work to keep him coming back.

But you don’t.

Of course you will in a minute, when he slips away and doesn’t return.

But now it just feels as though that boulder of secrecy has been lifted off your chest and you can finally take in lungfuls of sweet, unhindered night air.

It’s only after that dreadful minute has passed and there are still hands on you—buried in you—that you dare to open your eyes again.

Hawks is staring blankly, an expression you’ve never seen before, so stark from the usual quirk of his lips and tilt of his chin. Blank, but calculating. You can see the gears clanking as his thoughts rush a mile a minute, faster than he’d ever dream of soaring over the city skyline.

He blinks once, twice, then again and you can see the redness blooming at the corners as his eyes grow glassy between each flutter of lashes. And then, as though moving through honey, he draws back from you, only to crawl up your body until your noses touch.

You hold your breath, lip caught between your teeth, but his slicked thumb comes up to pull it out of your gnawing reach. He strokes across the puffy skin, never meeting your gaze, until he slowly, slowly leans down.

It’s not really a kiss, more of an accidental brush, so little of your lips touch you could easily have imagined it. When he speaks again, you can feel him forming the words against you.

“I—” he starts and licks his lips and yours and you don’t think it’s an accident, “I can’t.”

It isn’t what you want him to say, but it’s better than a silent loss .

You know truth when you hear it.

“I know.”

And you do, you do know, you’ve always known. He’s darker when he’s not with you. You’ve seen the carnage he leaves behind broadcasted on screens, but it’s never stopped the ache before.

He can’t keep you the way you want, can’t have things that get in the way.

You can only touch him when he’s dying. You can heal him, reform his flesh and bone—pull him back from the brink—but you’ll never feel his chest against yours or his hair slipping through your fingers or have all of him buried inside you. He’ll never love you like you want him to.

It doesn’t stop you from wishing.

And apparently, it doesn’t stop Hawks from kissing you anyway.

“I can’t,” he repeats and it sounds so broken you almost think that wound has reopened and he’s going to start slipping away again.

But the only thing that slips is his tongue past your lips and tangling with your own.

And then the levee breaks.

It’s a sudden torrent of hands and legs knotting together like the torn edges of too many injuries. Hawks covers every available part of you like an addict seeking his fix. It’s breathless and uncoordinated but you’ve never felt more alive, alight, aflame.

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling away and then diving back in. Frantic hands pull you off the mattress until your back is against the headboard and he’s straddling your lap. You take the opportunity to sink your fingers into that goldenrod hair and it’s just as silky as you’d imagined it to be.

Hawks moans into your mouth, kissing you wildly, like the beast he is with teeth clacking and your tongue sucked between his lips.

“I can’t,” he keeps mumbling, between groans and hips grinding and hands grabbing, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t— “

You wonder then which one of you he’s trying to convince.

But you don’t ask, just let your hands wander to the delicious curve of his ass on your thighs and squeeze, rolling his bulge against you. His fingers push and proud, ghosting across your chest and stopping to pinch your nipple. He drinks down the whimpers you let out, letting his lips wander your jaw and throat, sucking bruises—leaving his own scars on you—as he goes. He pushes you back down to the pillows so his lips can continue their work, latching onto the quickly hardening bud and suckling lightly. His groan sends little shockwaves through you and he looks up with brows furrowed like he’s in pain with how good it all feels.

“I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so soft you barely hear it between licks at your chest.

“No,” you finally find it in you to respond, shaking your head and pulling him back to your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says again while you nip at his earlobe and down his jaw, tight pants yielding under your hands as they’re tugged away so he’s just as bare as you.

“No,” you shake your head and any response dies on his tongue as you dig your fingers into the feathers at the base of his wings and pull him forward.

Hawks lets out a choked gasp as his length, bare, hard, and leaking glides across your cunt. Any other time, you’d have liked to savor this moment. Get on your knees and worship his pretty cock—and you know it's pretty, just from your short glimpse. He’s long and perfectly thick, just how you dreamed he would be. The cute tuft of blond curls at his base is course in the best way as you trail your fingers through it to take him in your palm.

“Ahh,” he keens, arching above you with his head thrown back as you stroke him for the first time.

It’s been so long, you're not sure how you ever resisted this before. Not with how heavy and warm he is in your fist.

“Hawks,” you moan, sucking at the dip in his collarbone and moving to bite at his nipple. “Hawks, please.”

“I—” you think he might protest but you flick your thumb over the tip and it pours precum to help the slide of your fingers.

He’s already got those powerful arms hooked under your knees, all he has to do is lean forward and sink into that tight, awaiting heat, and he knows it. You can see the resolve cracking.

“Hawks,” you beg again. Because you are begging, that’s what this is.

And he looks at you, drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and brows all bunched up with his head shaking.

“Hawks.”

His hands grip the underside of your thighs and knock your hand from his dick.

“Hawks.”

His forehead comes down to rest against yours, eyes squeezed shut and red at the edges. You feel the sting at the corners as if they were your own.

“Hawks.”

You can only touch him when he’s dying.

Is he dying now?

Are you killing him?

“Hawks.”

His breath hitches, whatever he might have said is long gone when the head of his cock catches against your entrance.

“Hawks—”

He sinks in to the hilt all at once and the last utterance of his name is a yelp. Your walls clamp down hard around the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers, so hot and long and thick as he pulses inside you.

There are no words after that.

No names, no refusals, just his face pressed up on yours as he pushes your thighs to your chest and rolls his hips, fucking you evenly into the mattress.

Not soft or slow or overly rough.

Though it is all of those things at once as well.

Hawks has always been full of contradictions. It makes sense that this is too.

Both your eyes stay open, lips brushing and sharing breath as he slips a hand back down to your clit and starts those perfect circles up again.

He doesn’t ask you questions now. Just stares in your eyes and sinks his cock into your over and over until you feel fuller, more complete than you ever have in the whole of your life.

There’s no warning leading up to the end. You feel the crest approaching, the coil waiting to snap low in your belly and you don’t dare take your eyes off his face. You need to commit the entirety of this moment to memory. Just in case.

Just in case it never happens again.

Or worse, it happens over and over until it doesn’t.

Until you run out of chances to touch him.

Until he comes to you too far gone.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters and that’s all the warning you get.

All the warning you have the strength to listen to as you tumble over the edge, waves of rolling pleasure burning under your skin. You clench hard around his cock as his hips stutter in their pace, thrusting unevenly as you gush and he spills rope after rope of hot release deep into you.

And you’d been wrong before, because this was full. This was whole, your stilling bodies pressed together at every point with his cock still hard and twitching as your walls milked him of cum that warmed you from the inside out.

This is what you would die for.

***

Later when you stumble into unwilling wakefulness, there are hands tucking a thin sheet over your bare skin.

Hawks has pulled himself from you after resting like you’d told him he should. He’s dressing, though not hurriedly, and you can’t find it in your jelly bones to move or stop him.

You’re both silent, even when he looks down to find your eyes alert and raking over him—costume donned and wings prepared for flight.

His face is drawn in a way that might have been resentment. Maybe towards you for breaking his resolve, maybe at himself for indulging in what he cannot have.

I can’t.

You hear the words as clear as though he’d just said them.

I can’t.

Can’t have you. Can’t forget his purpose. Can’t have gentle things.

Hawks is a villain, first and foremost, above all else and that includes you.

So you don’t move to stop him as he walks softly through your door. You just watch as he makes his way to the open window and perches on the ledge. He does look back, only briefly, to see you draped across the sheets, head resting on your arm and staring at him as he leaves you.

The ghost of that cheeky grin crawls its way onto his face before he tips backwards off the landing and into the night sky. He winks once before the indigo of the night swallows him like the maw of a leviathan. The city has teeth and it will chew him up and spit him back out into your arms soon enough.

So you’re content to wait.

You know this isn’t the last time. That he’ll come back to you as he’s always done. And offer you more and more of himself each time.

Because you can only touch him when he’s dying.

And this world is nothing if not determined to kill him.

So you can keep your purpose.

And by extension, you can keep him.