#i was trying to be normal about this one but hawk is gazing so intensely in the fourth one that i am overwhelmed

[remyfire]

Please give Henry a vacation

[snghnlvr]

hope they caught us. / sim jaeyun

jake x fem reader

synopsis: you knew that an academic girl like you shouldn’t be involved with a mischievous boy like jake, but both of you hide it well…right?

includes: 3.5k words | SUGGESTIVE | fluff too to balance it out lol | jake being a hot mischievous boy next door | but he’s smart! we love a hot, smart guy who thrives attention for y/n | jake’s hand placements⁉️ | y/n is shy but jake likes that | smooth talker jake yessir | LIP PIERCING JAKE !!

extra: hey bffs i’m back from my own grave 👯‍♀️ i lost motivation for a moment but it’s fine, ill try to post more~ | i’ve watched anne with an e so the language here is kind of similar to that style bc i love that fucking show and it inspired me 🤷‍♀️ | enhypen 🔛🔝 | jake has been so fine lately omfg | jake is a fucking simp!!!

likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

“j-jake-“ you pulled away from his grasp, heaving for air after that short yet everlasting kiss both of you shared secretly.

“you know we can’t be seen together.” as your flushed cheeks were on display in front of him, despise all of it, your mind was full of worries and anxiety of being caught by one of your family members or risking into a more intense situation in your bedroom.

“god, you’re so pretty whenever i look at you.” you scrunched your nose at your boyfriend’s compliment as he had a small smug smirk from your shy, silent reaction. you quickly turned your head towards the door, eyeing the hallway like a hawk to check if there was anyone near by and to your fortune, you can still hear the laughter and voices from the adults downstairs. you felt relieved, sighing softly.

your pondering thoughts became interrupted when you felt jake’s hand slither around your waist and pull you back again closer to him. you gasped, having both of your palms being in placed of his chest. he raised an eyebrow as you were taken aback from his gesture that was normal for him to do.

you were a blushing mess, however jake was smiling like a trickster- not giving a damn about what he’s doing to you, rather amused. you stared at him, observing how obnoxiously handsome he is with his hair being slightly disheveled up from your hands a few seconds ago, his hooded eyes gazing to yours and his lips being stained from your favorite shade of red from forbidden exchange that was yet mutual. the sight was scandalous but breathtaking.

you wanted to stare at him for hours, like a painting from a museum, trying to analyze every beautiful feature that earth has offered.

as the moonlight reflected your bodies from your small window, jake felt a breeze from it. the window’s open a tad bit. he sat down on the little space your window offered for sitting. he admired your wavy locks being swayed by the night air and your crimson cheeks being glowed from the radiance of the moon.

both of you smiled in delight, contented with each other’s presences.

jake. sim jake. adventurous yet devilish. elegant yet charming. sincere yet … complicated to deal with.

as you met the rebellious individual, you had no intentions of befriending jake. you didn’t like his trickster behavior in front of his friends, spreading unhumorous jokes, say the meanest things about teachers and most of all having an egotistical mind that one cannot top.

especially jake, for he is not only annoyingly attractive but naturally intelligent in his studies. maybe that’s why you didn’t entirely hate his guts.

your parents warned you about jake ever since he became not only your new classmate but your new neighbor. how innocent looks can cover their sinful stunts.

the way he showed himself to you at a family dinner at your place, he wore all black clothings including black ripped jeans along with multiple rings on his slim fingers and a lip piercing being proudly displayed on the right side of his face. in spite of it, you were surprised how someone your age can look daunting to look at. it somehow concerned your parents how one can allow their child to have piercings.

you would rather be the opposite. your closet would be filled with soft pastel colors. you have two piercings - the lobes. the ones where you would get at a young age and you never recall as you grow older but yet looking at jake’s, you thrived the curiosity of one.

but somehow, it ease your parents’ tension against him when he became a smooth talker and how he was gonna major engineering in college. you gawked at him, comparing how you were gonna take pre-med in college. just wondering how smart can he be?

and of course, as a shy girl you would always stray away in making new friends as if you wanted to be friends with jake. at a family gathering, you were the first one finished with your meal and went upstairs to do your unfinished homework. as a result, jake’s parents admired you for your hard work and dedication, wishing that their son can do the same instead of partying and socializing. not that there’s something wrong with having an extroverted personality, but something to prioritize with studies.

perhaps you did do it on purpose for the sake of your ego against jake and to maintain a good reputation as a daughter in your family.

unlucky enough, jake caught your act rather quickly. he would always scan you whenever you would converse with someone, how your lovely smile would appear, your glowy brown eyes shining under the gleaming light, how he had noticed you have small dimples on both sides of your cheek if your lips curved, how you scrunch your face when you receive a compliment, and your hair look looking smooth. he wonders what it’s like to touch it with his fingers and smell the scent that your hair obtains. there’s many more observations jake silently took note of.

all of his thoughts are genuine. about you. everything he thought about you are genuine.

he noticed whenever you would quickly glance at him and immediately look down at your plate as if you were scared. you would nibble your bottom lip and fiddle with your fingers on your lap whenever the adults mentioned jake to you.

needlessly to say as he took interest upon your first impression, he wanted you to be on his mind as well. in a way that makes him be stuck in your head for days and let curiosity rise to know him better.

the first step in his plan, to offer you to be his tutor. it surprised his parents, amazed at seeing a drastic change in their son after being in your house for one night. although he might in a higher level than you are, he wanted to find a way to know you better.

the night he was supposed to be partying with his friends, it was with books and you.

it was awkward. you felt awkward. your mind had awkward thoughts. the two of you in your room together in the midday of an autumn day. although your window was closed, your body was cold as you were cuddling yourself with a fluffy blanket of yours while sitting down.

next to you was jake, his uniform was a bit crumpled and his tie loosen up a bit after saying, “hope you don’t mind.” to you.

you noticed how his hair was a bit out of place, having the urge to fix it as the perfectionist you are.

however, despite looking tired from his classes, he seemed curiosity and his eyes would sparkle whenever something in your room caught his eye. like noticing your piano medals spread across in a shelf or picture you’ve kept when you were in art class in second grade pinned in your walls.

“so… what subject are you struggling with?” you were the first to break the awkward silence, eyes glancing at the emptiness of your desk table hoping that it would be filled with a textbook of any subject.

“statistics.” jake replied after, gulping in nervousness to make any wrong move on you. you raised an eyebrow.

“oh!” you straightened yourself in your chair, making your blanket slowly fall down. your shoulders from your cami top were exposed to jake, making him take into admiration of your beauty from your single lamp open.

you looked at jake. “the test scores were given back today right? can i see your test score so i can have an idea in what to teach you?” you smiled at jake as a reassurance message.

jake’s eyes widened a bit, taken aback from your sudden request. you noticed the moment of silence, thinking that jake is embarrassed to show you but jake was thinking of something else. he didn’t except nor imagine this scenario taking place. it was something that might make you mad.

“it’s okay, i’m here to teach you not to make fun of you, you can be honest with me.” you nodded at jake, seeing him zip his back bag open behind him. he scooted his chair closer to you.

now you were taken aback from the sudden gesture that he wasn’t even fazed. his eyes were glued onto his folder but your eyes were glued onto his side profile. under the luminous light, it complimented his features well that you questioned how handsome can this boy get?

“whatever you do, please don’t get mad.” he spoke in a low tone. you distracted yourself with another thoughts, nodding quickly so you wouldn’t get caught doing the unforgiven, staring.

you gawked once he opened his folder, with the numbers written in red marker. a big fat 100 smacks you on the face.

“w-what..” you were in disbelief at what you were saying. you were confused as to why he needed tutoring when he got a perfect score. you studied so hard he night before the exam to get a passing grade of 100, but it only resulted in an 80. even worse, jake’s grade wasn’t curved.

it made you be in a lost of thoughts as you glanced at jake. you noticed how his shoulders crouching down and avoiding eye contact like a guilty kid caught in the act.

maybe he can be your tutor instead which is humiliating to accept.

“you lied?” jake whined mentally at how devastated you sound. he was trying to quickly find a way to defend himself but what would he say instead of, i just wanted to know you better? sounds like a psychopath.

his lips trembled, “i-i .. okay look y/n..” you softened when you said your name with such delicacy and softness that it slowly made you forget being disappointed at him. “i just wanted to know you better, not as a neighbor but perhaps a friend since we will be often seeing each other a lot.. and i couldn’t find a way to approach to you without being weird..”

jake rambled with his words, slowly breathing in a fast pace after his chest was relieved from all of the stress he endured of defending himself. he looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that he disappointed you, that you probably never want to ever see him again and how you will snitch to him to your parents and they will forbid you to ever go near him again. but instead of crying your heart out and running away as he imagined, you instead chuckled. you were amused at his creative idea that you wonder how can he have such an idea like this one?

“you wanted to know me better?” you asked again, appreciating the thought that he wanted to be your friend but in an unusual way.

“yeah..” jake lowered his shoulder, whispering his reply to you. he looked at you chuckling at him.

“we can be friends jake, you didn’t have to do all of this.” you slightly rubbed your eye with your index finger, tired of giggling from jake. “i know.. i guess i was scared that i might look like a weird guy to you.” he embarrassingly scratched the back of his hair with his hand. his hair bounced against his flustered head.

“well you seem weird from the first impression but other than that, you seem harmless.. i hope.” you scrunched your nose unconsciously, making jake’s heart fluttered from the dimples appearing on your face whenever you do it.

the more days spent with jake under the act of “tutoring him”, it was him tutoring you instead since he told you that he enjoyed math and physics.

you thought he was a crazy scientist planning to ban away society from earth but the more time you witnessed him enjoy doing homework, you couldn’t help but think about him from time to time in appreciation that there’s someone who’s sincere as him. effortless and a natural.

during those moments, he did nothing but make you laugh and somehow make your heart flutter from his doings. it influenced your heart to be a mess. moments such as pulling your back bag from behind so there’s less weight and it’s lighter to walk with it while going home together from school, raise your blanket higher whenever it lowered from your body whenever both of you studied, and making your body electrocuted from the constant coincidental touches both of you share unknowingly.

although there would be times where jake pulled out his witty jokes and random comments to gravitate your focus onto him, he never forced anything onto you. he keeps his boundaries on alert and respected your feelings.

for instance, if he tried to make a conversation with you while you were studying and you tell him to be quiet, he would. immediately. he would slide the chair away from you, slightly sulking and try to find ways to occupy his bored self.

playing games on his phone is one thing but another would be exploring your room. jake found your art journal from middle school while snooping your drawers next to your bed.

or that one time he unfortunately came across your polka dot underwear lying freely on the floor when he eagerly and abruptly came upstairs after school as you tried beating him first to your room after screaming that you didn’t clean your room.

yeah that was the first time you yelled at him.

besides that, there would be times where you found jake adorable such as trying not to sleep whenever both of you were alone in one of each other’s room, whining in how a certain teacher sucks at their teaching job, and the crazy story times he experienced in his life. it made you realize how such a human can have so much impact in your life in less than a year?

nevertheless, you had to avoid each other at school to not let any rumours about the two of you knowing each other be spread across. jake completely understood as you didn’t want any drama from occurring in your final year of high school. there would be times where the both of you spared glances and smile at each other, missing each other’s presences deeply.

there was a moment where both of you laid in jake’s bed after studying, taking a small break before you return home for supper.

“y/n i’ve been thinking..” your heart thumped after hearing jake’s deep voice while closing your eyes. you never heard jake with this tone so it felt new and exciting.

you opened your eyes, turning your head to your right to face him as his stare was focused on the ceiling above him.

“i really like being with you. you made me realize how there’s always good in a bad place. and i really want to continue to be with you…” you sharped a breath when his picky was interlocking with yours.

he finally turned at you and for once you were grateful that he didn’t witness how red your cheeks were becoming. you were become a mess at how sparkly his eyes were and beautiful his lips can be. especially with that piercing of his.

this feeling was brand new to you. you’ve never been close to a boy before as you were merely focused in your education. boys weren’t prioritizing your mind.

“do you like being with me too?” jake asked, softly as if you were gonna be broken glass. he was being fragile in case he will do something wrong to you. he spoke with hesitation.

your mind was filled with memories that you spent with him from the past few months and you can’t but wanting to spend more memories with him.

“of course i do jake. every moment i spent with you, i feel free against the world that my parents created from me. you make me feel like it’s okay to step out of the comfort zone.” you smiled against your lips.

jake soon did the same as you continued to stare at each other with silence, having a significant spark in each other’s hearts for the first time.

“can i court you then?” jake’s hand slowly creep to yours, softly grasping it. you looked down, your heart pounding as if it was gonna explode from your rib cage.

god you never felt more in love than before. “i would like that jake..” you sheepishly smiled, letting go of his grasp to hide your shy smile but jake didn’t allow that.

jake slowly took the hand that was covering your beautiful smile, taking his hand with it. you were silent, eyeing his every action as jake kept staring at you.

your fingers were lingering the cold metal against his lips and it made your body shivered.

it was like he was having a different emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t identify but you felt safe when you were with him.

jake pecked your palm and held it against his cheek. he closed his eyes, processing the fact that you’re now his and he’s yours.

and the fact that you have to hide it from your parents for now.

and here you are currently, “a penny for your thoughts pretty girl?” jake swept a strain of hair behind your ear. you shook your head, lowering your head in his neck to hide your flushed cheeks.

you would always do this whenever you were feeling bashful from jake’s bold behavior and he loved it. that he was the only boy that made you be like this.

“it’s just you’re so beautiful when you look like that..” you whispered against his neck. jake raised both of his eyebrows, surprise at the sudden change in your usual personality. the position you were in, where jake was sitting down and you were standing above him.

his legs being comfortably spread out so each of his leg is next to yours it made you be in a pit of nervousness and jake took note of it. jake always love how expressive you are with your own eyes as if it was telling a story if your mouth goes mute upon seeing his figure wherever, whenever.

seeing him below you caused a spark in your heart as his eyes stared at you with devotion and attentiveness. jake noticed how your eyes changed when you kept staring at him with a specific look. a look that makes him even more whipped for you.

“really?” jake’s hands slowly crept towards your hips, lightly massaging it before he pulled you closer to him, causing you stumble lightly and sit on his lap thanks to jake’s strength in holding you still. your legs straddled his each side of his hip.

you looked down, realizing the situation you were in but jake kept holding his signature smirk as he was loving your reaction. he kept staring at you, swallowing the beauty you are in front of him. he didn’t want to get you go, thinking you are a dedicate feather ready to disappear if let go.

“well uhm,” you scoffed lightly, keeping a wide grin to disguise the apprehension from your face. as you were at a loss of words - not having a quick way to reply to jake, he took it as an opportunity to steal a kiss from your soft lips.

the sound echoed in your head, making your heart flutter listening to it. you closed your eyes again when jake stole another one.

you looked at him, filled with fond and passion. the silence aura, it spoke louder than words of how much you two love it each other.

you lightly placed your hand against jake’s resting on your hip comfortably with a small smile on your lips. you rubbed his fingers lightly.

“i love you.” as fragile as you sounded whispering the truth spilled from your lips, your heart never felt any less warmer with any other guy besides your secret boyfriend in front of you.

jake’s other hand, cradled your jaw. his thumb was slowly rubbing your cheek as his thoughts were filled of the words “i love you” multiple times. he swore he was gonna be a psychopath with you.

he didn’t say, but you felt it.

“i love you too my y/n.” both of your lips collided with a deep kiss after jake exchanged his romantic confession to you.

“y/n!” you immediately pulled out of the kiss, mentally whining that it ended too quick due to your mother calling you.

“yes?” you yelled back back as jake didn’t stop kissing you. he continued showcasing his love for you when his lips touched your neck, having little pecks as he was attached from your perfume scent you sprayed on before jake’s parents arrived to your home.

you were squirming on his lap as his lips kept going places on your neck. the sounds of his lips touching your skin made your head be distracted from your mother’s voice.

you tried stopping jake, pushing your palms against his chest to pull him off but jake insisted, grabbing both of your wrists with his one hand. you felt jake’s smirk onto your neck as you felt the tip of his tongue on your hot skin, making you gasp.

“jake’s parents are going home now! please send jake downstairs.” your mother yelled out. you sighed after you replied with okay to her, ignoring your heart trying to escape from your ribcage.

“jake..” you called him before he gets distracted with his desirable thoughts of wanting to continue in kissing you. you ruffled his hair to awake his senses but he has beat you to it.

“what a shame..” he scrunched his nose. “i’ll go now, i’ll definitely miss you.” jake pressed his lips one last time to your cheek before you removed yourself from him to get his things.

jake grabbed his black, round glasses from your table and the flannel he tossed in your bed the moment he entered to your room.

this time, you were observing your boyfriend picking up his possession, especially with the gray sweatpants and a white plain tank top. simple yet still handsome in every way and form. you can’t believe that jake is yours.

before jake left, his hand wrapped around your door knob indicating his hesitation. “hm?” you hummed in confusion when you turned your head to see jake stand still. you were curious of what was holding him back.

“i’ll be at your window in 10 minutes.” jake looked back. his eyes were gazing your figure in your bed. you looked up at him and his heart still flutters just as he first saw you.

you taken aback with this new gesture of his that you didn’t know what to say. “i-ill see you then.” you let out a smile. jake smiled back before quickly heading downstairs. you heard the mixture of his voice and you the adults downstairs as you fell sideways in your bed, making your head bounce on your pillow.

with his mischievous and brave acts with you, you’re certain that one day both of you will be caught but you never objected the idea of doing so.

taglist ; @iraisswiftie @s00buwu

[sleepynoons]

blade x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: unprotected sex, emotional sex, handjob, half-assed pussy job (idet it counts), riding in reverse cowgirl, descriptions of injuries

notes: angst, slight comfort. wrote this on my period, and i couldn't stand being the only one in intense pain, so i took this as an excuse to do more research on mara and how blade suffers from it. also stellaron hunter!reader lol

YOU SEE the bandages before you see him. after two weeks of being unable to see each other, you’ve finally been given the green light by kafka to visit blade. eyes wide, you can’t hide your surprise as you examine the fresh cracks and wounds scoring blade’s body, obvious even when he’s veiled by the shadows cast by his door. the dressings almost seem useless, really – a bandage over a bullet wound, almost quite literally. the effects of mara on short-lived species are truly terrifying, the destructive aftermath laid out right in front of you as you grimace when you see a wound slowly open before sealing itself with a muted golden light. he steps back to let you into his room, and you usher him to his bed. 

as you tie up some of the loose ends of the bandages, you murmur, “kafka said it was worse than normal.” blade only stares ahead at something you can’t see.

it’s always been this way. when blade doesn’t want to tell you something, he opts for silence. the two of you are so close yet so far, able to relish in the intimacy of each other’s bodies but never willing to exchange words that reveal what’s underneath. he will even go as far as to openly show you his scars and injuries, but he will never share with you the tales and stories of battles that caused them – constellations on his figure that will remain forever unnamed and disowned. 

kafka had given you a brief, watered-down explanation of blade’s condition when you first joined the stellaron hunters. blade’s pain is predominantly in the psyche, and the mara forces him into an uncontrollable state that he has to be watched over and subdued by kafka. you know it’s all for naught as you wipe his arms and torso with a warm, wet towel. you can only provide brief moments of relief as you pat cool compresses over the cuts you just cleaned.

there’s something you’ve noticed about blade’s injuries. because you’ve never seen blade when he’s mara-struck, you can only presume that he receives his injuries directly or as a result of his transformation. regardless, the cuts are irregular. they look more like deep gashes from sharp fingernails and a sword. 

like clockwork, you finish patching blade up, and after putting all of the medical supplies away, find your place on his lap. blade finally looks at you, gaze piercing through you, as you sit down. his hands come to rest on the backs of your thighs, and without a word, leans forward to kiss you on the eyes. his gestures are delicate, as gentle as he can muster, and you know he’s trying to placate your worry. you return your affections by patting his chest, a signal for him to lie down.

he listens, eyes still watching you closely, hawk-like attention on your every move. he’s waiting, curious as to what you plan on doing today.

you begin. you first bend over, littering small kisses across his collarbones and chest. if blade’s in any pain, he makes no indication of it. you make your way up, leaving more kisses around his neck and the shell of his right ear, before hovering over his face. when this arrangement started, you remember being incredibly nervous, afraid he would judge and reject your advances. you’re more practiced now, of course, and without hesitation, lick at his lips. blade seems to ease up a little and responds by tilting his head in an effort to deepen the kiss and presses your body closer to his. it stays like this for a few minutes. the two of you have your eyes closed and are simply enjoying each other’s warmth.

you only pull away because you need to breathe. regardless, you’re growing eager, and you’re sure he is, too. you get up to remove your jacket and sleep shorts, but when blade reaches to undo his pants, you stop him.

“let me,” you whisper. “i’ll handle all of it.” now only in a loose t-shirt and panties, you sit back down on blade, except you’re faced away from him. you make quick work of his pants and peel back his briefs, revealing his half-hard cock that is stirring at the sudden touch of the cool air.

you always like to take your time with blade after going without him for so long. you spit into your hand and coat it generously. blade hisses when he feels your hand make contact with his cock. up and down, your rub your palm from his tip to his balls and back again. his cock gets harder and hotter under your touch, and the veins that climb up his cock become more pronounced. what you would do to take him in your mouth then and there, but you have to resist – this isn’t about you. when blade’s cock stands fully at attention, you wrap your hand around it and quicken your pace. you flick your fist sharply and tease his slit with your thumb between intervals.

behind you, blade pants and groans. you’re experienced in pleasuring the man, and you know when something is too much or too little for him. right now, you know you’re doing just right. as he gets louder, his cock leaks more pre-cum, and the desperate sight sends a throb straight to your core. finally, with a few more tugs of your hand, blade cums, cursing as he ejaculates into your hands with some of his cum splattering onto your forearm. you help him in coming down from his high, and you glance behind you.

with one arm thrown over his eyes and the other gripping onto the blanket, he’s breathing deep, ragged breaths. he already looks spent.

you ask, “should we stop here?”

harsher than he intended, blade commands, “keep going.” his voice is rough with exhaustion, but it’s still deep and husky, and his demand only edges you further along. you smile at the praise and nod in understanding, not that he’d see.

you slide your panties to the side. you’re already so wet, slick sticking and spreading along your inner thighs and pussy. blade’s already hard again, and you can only admire his stamina. as a brief intermission, you pick up his cock and begin to rub his tip along your folds. his cock is so hot, comforting against your own heat, and you sigh whenever his tip catches onto your clit. 

but it’s not enough. with every slip of cock, your yearning accelerates until it becomes overwhelming. when you have no more patience, with shaky legs, you sink down onto him. when the head of his cock pops past the entrance of your hole, you moan in relief and satisfaction. not even halfway in, and blade is already making you see stars.

blade is also having a very difficult time. he’s already delirious from all of the pain he had to endure for the past few weeks, yet he fell prey to his desires and is now suffering at the sensation of your soft, tight walls swallowing and trapping him in. it really is too much. in this position, he can admire the way the fat of your ass ripples whenever you move and your back arches beautifully, accentuating the curves of your hips and waist. at the very least, he’s grateful that he can’t see your face, or else he’d lose it at the sight of your aroused expressions. he can just imagine your lips parting, tongue lolling out, eyes crossing.

you feel so full when he’s fully in you that you have to sit still for a second. then, you slowly begin to bounce, shallow lifts of your hip that only come up an inch or so before you take him in completely again. it’s the perfect amount of pressure inside you. in fact, everything about blade seems to fit you well, and you have to ignore the thought of never fully having him.

if you had to describe blade, a few words come into mind: powerful, spiteful, lost. and you can feel these traits of his bleed into the present moment. he’s so tired and angry, frustrated that he has to live on in the universe, but because he has no choice, he will live on with steadfast and stubborn courage. you can only moan and drool with every heavy kiss of his cock against that gummy spot inside you. at some point, his hands have found their way to your waist, and his hands are gripping onto you so tightly that they’re bound to leave bruises. you can feel – practically taste – his emotions, and all you can do is just take it. it’s because you can’t do anything else that you’re content with just taking it. 

you’re sobbing, crying out from pleasure and distress. with one last push, you get up so that only blade’s tip is inside before dropping back down in a manner so rushed and sharp that you’re both cumming from it. he holds onto you and you onto his hands as you both climax.

you may never be able to help him with the mara or be fully his, but you know that, in this moment, no one in any galaxy or universe can make him experience this pleasure and release the way you can. and for now, you let yourself take pride and satisfaction with that. for now, that’s more than enough.

[doumadono]

Hejka, my beautiful friend 🧡. It's been a while. I would like to place an emergency request. I am going to be alone and away from my family for a few months and am very scared. Could I ask you to write me a story on how Kokushibo is my guardian demon? Maybe a little fluff? You know how much I love my imaginary man. Please take your time as this is something I will be experiencing over the course of tge the entire summer and autumn. Thank you 💞💞💞

Unexpected light - Kokushibo x Reader

A/N: please forgive me it took so long to complete your request! I'm really sorry to hear that you're feeling scared about being away from your family. It's completely normal to feel this way, but remember that you are stronger than you think. This time apart can also be an opportunity for personal growth and self-discovery. Stay connected with your loved ones through calls and messages, and try to find things that bring you comfort and joy. We're all here cheering you on! #silnekobietyrządzą

EMERGENCY REQS - PART 2

The forest loomed around you, its dense canopy blocking out the moonlight and leaving you in near-total darkness. You stumbled over roots and rocks, your breath coming in ragged gasps as panic gripped you. The reality of being separated from your family for months had begun to sink in, and the weight of that loneliness pressed heavily on your shoulders. That was why you decided to take a night stroll in the woods — it had provided you with a great deal of solace in the past.

You had heard tales of the demons that haunted these woods, terrifying creatures that preyed on the unwary. You hoped against hope that you wouldn’t encounter one, but deep down, you knew the odds weren’t in your favor that night. As the night grew colder, you found a small clearing and sank to the ground, hugging your knees to your chest. Tears stung your eyes as you thought of your family, wishing more than anything to be with them again.

A sudden rustle in the bushes snapped you out of your thoughts. You scrambled to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest.

From the shadows emerged a figure, tall and imposing, with six glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness.

Your blood ran cold as you recognized him: it was Kokushibo, Upper Moon One, the most feared of the Twelve Kizuki.

You took a step back, but there was nowhere to run.

He moved with a grace that belied his size, closing the distance between you in an instant. His eyes bore into yours, and you felt like a mouse caught in the gaze of a hawk. "You should not be here," he said, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "Humans who wander into these woods seldom leave."

Your knees threatened to buckle, but you forced yourself to stand tall. "I… I have nowhere else to go," you stammered, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I'm alone. My family is far away, and I… I don't know what to do."

Kokushibo regarded you for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. "Why should I spare you, mortal?" he asked, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you. "I wish to be reunited with my family," you admitted, your voice trembling. "If you have any mercy, just let me go, demon."

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Mercy is not something I am known for," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But there is something intriguing about your spirit. A determination, even in the face of fear."

You couldn't fathom why he would care about such a thing, but you clung to his words like a lifeline. "Please," you whispered.

Kokushibo's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he continued to study you. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity, until finally, he spoke again. "Speak, then. Tell me of these struggles that weigh upon your spirit. Don't try to fool me, I can sense all of your despair."

The unexpected invitation made you gasp, but the sheer intensity of his gaze compelled you to respond. "I’ve been separated from my family," you began, your voice trembling but gaining strength as you continued. "I was forced to leave them behind, and I don’t know how long I’ll be alone. It's… it's been overwhelming, trying to survive each day, not knowing if I’ll ever see them again."

There was a subtle shift in his stance, a slight softening of the harsh lines of his face.

You took a deep breath, the words flowing more freely now. "I feel like I’m constantly fighting against despair. The loneliness, the fear — it’s like a heavy weight that never goes away. I wander these woods, hoping for a miracle, for some idea that would fall on me and help me to find my family again. But every day, it feels like that hope slips further away."

You glanced up at him, expecting indifference or even mockery, but his expression remained inscrutable, his eyes fixed on you. "I don’t know why I’m telling you this, demon," you admitted, almost to yourself. "Maybe because you're the first being I've encountered in so long who hasn’t tried to kill me immediately."

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Kokushibo's lips. "A low bar, but one I have surpassed nonetheless," he murmured, his tone holding a hint of dry amusement.

You found yourself returning his almost-smile, a spark of something like relief flickering within you. "I guess so," you said softly.

Kokushibo shifted his gaze to the moonlit forest around you, his voice thoughtful when he spoke again. "Humans often cling to hope, even when it seems futile. It is both their greatest strength and their greatest weakness."

You nodded, understanding his words. "Hope is all I have left," you said quietly. "Even if it feels like it’s slipping away every single day."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence of the forest wrapping around you like a shroud.

Then Kokushibo turned his gaze back to you, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. "Your spirit, your determination, is intriguing," he repeated. "It reminds me of… what I once was, before I became this."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a revelation from a demon as powerful and feared as Kokushibo. "What do you mean?"

His expression darkened slightly, shadows crossing his face. "There was a time when I was human, like you. I had dreams, struggles, hopes. But those days are long past, buried under centuries of darkness and blood."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, but you couldn’t help but feel a strange connection forming between you. "Is that why you’ve spared me? Because I remind you of who you once were?"

Kokushibo's gaze grew distant, as if he were looking through you into a past only he could see. "Perhaps," he said finally, his voice a mere whisper. "Or perhaps it is simply because your spirit intrigues me in a way I have not felt in a very long time."

You took a step closer, the fear that had initially gripped you slowly giving way to a cautious curiosity. "Thank you," you uttered, sincerity lacing your words. "For sparing me. For listening."

Kokushibo nodded slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. "Do not mistake my actions for kindness, mortal. I am a demon, bound by my nature. But I will allow you to continue your journey, for now. Leave now, if you value your life. And never come back here again."

As you turned to leave, a sudden impulse made you stop and look back at him. "Demon," you began hesitantly, "do you ever wish for something more than this existence? Beyond the darkness and the hunger?"

His many eyes widened slightly, as if taken aback by your question. For a moment, he seemed almost human, a flicker of something unspoken passing across his features. "Wishes are for the living," he said finally, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn't quite identify. "For those who have hope. The night is long, but it will pass, mortal. And when it does, you will be one step closer to finding your way."

With that, he turned away, his form blending into the shadows. You watched him go, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Fear, relief perhaps.

The journey back home passed quickly as your heart beat faster within your chest. You still felt the adrenaline rush, but simultaneously, for no particular reason, you felt a sense of hope. You would find your family again. You would survive this separation, no matter how long it took. And you would remember that even in the darkest of places, there could be moments of unexpected light.

[nohoney]

♡ crumpled photographs of me ♡

notes: the first part to the teddy bear series! it stays somewhat in the canon universe of bnha, while hawks still works for the commission. i remember reading a lot of ‘secret relationship with hawks’ fics when i really started to like his character and of course want to add my own silly little contribution.

♪ Now I'm finding knives under the sheets / Crumbled photographs of me ♪

warnings: yandere hawks (more soft tho), reader is very distressed, somewhat dubcon-ish (nothing explicit) but it’s how the reader has to cope with her environment

words: 5.6k

synopsis:

All photographs of you.

Keigo sat on the couch when you walked further into the apartment, just nonchalantly taking pictures out of a photo album from your apartment and crumpling them first before throwing them aside.

“I want these to be filled with only us now, okay? I don’t like thinking that you had a life before me.”

There was a time that you were willing to pose in front of a camera and smile for a picture. You weren’t exactly always prepared for your picture to be taken but you at least knew how to angle your head in a flattering angle and give a little smile that made it seem like you were picture ready. Back then, you preferred your photos taken in private. A few photographer friends would ask to use you as a subject on occasion or on the rare moments that you decided that you needed to update your resume photo, most of your best pictures then were taken in a more controlled environment with someone to guide you.

For a while, you had a small appreciation for film cameras.

There was a nostalgia to getting the film developed and then seeing how the pictures came out with no preview aside from just trusting the lighting through the viewfinder and a little flash.

It was a silly little thing that you enjoyed with him at first, going through stacks of developed pictures and picking out the best ones and laughing at the worst ones. Even if you could never take photos out in the world like a regular couple, you still cherished being able to have this special privilege with the number two Pro Hero, whom the outside world would only know as Hawks but to you he was Keigo Takami. It felt special to be photographed by him and to be the only person in his camera roll.

You had started to feel much differently about that fact when you had decided to end the relationship.

Loving Keigo was a choice that you made, starting a relationship despite the risks that came with dating a Pro Hero was a choice that you made, and walking away from Keigo was the hardest choice you had to make when it proved too difficult to attempt to maintain a normal relationship with him. It was already hard enough with all of his duties that were expected of him on the daily and it was even more difficult trying to circumvent the commission that had trained and raised the beloved winged hero of the country. You wanted to believe that his wings would always shield you from the prying eyes of the outside world and it would block out anything that would come between you.

“We can try harder. I know this is tough on you but please, I want you by my side.” Keigo was gently pleading to you while you avoided his heartbroken gaze. “Don’t you know how crazy I’ll go without you?”

At the time, those words were just a phrase that you didn’t take very seriously.

Thirteen days after the break up, you didn’t think Keigo would be standing in front of you again but with the most eerie gaze you had never seen him sport before. He threw a folder onto the countertop of the kitchen with pictures sliding out easily. Pictures of you that he’d taken in intimate moments, pictures that you agreed to be the subject of when he had brought you to a sexed up high and thought it would just be good fun. “What are these?”

“My favorite pictures of you.”

His tone was so soft yet his gaze on you was so hard. You remember how he slowly looked over the photographs with an intensity that left you unsure what to do. Nudes and sex selfies of yourself had never made you self conscious during the relationship but you worried if this was meant to be some sort of blackmail. Keigo didn’t seem the type for revenge porn but the possibility of it still hurt you.

“You never pose for me anymore, dove. It makes me a little sad. I miss that part of our relationship.”

There was nothing playful or joyful about getting your picture taken anymore. Keigo had ruined that beyond repair. He frightened you into being scared of being photographed by him. Just because you weren’t willing to have your picture taken by him doesn’t mean that you were allowed to deny him however. The first few times you resisted, you were learning about Keigo’s true temper underneath all the easy-going breeziness that was instilled as a means of masking his true intentions.

If you had to take a few measly photos then you’d deal with it, it was just Keigo’s impeccable timing that made you reluctant to cooperate. It was often at times that you weren’t prepared mentally for the task because he insisted on candids. And when he takes a photo with you looking upset, Keigo in turn gets his feelings hurt that the pictures don’t come out like they used to. If you were going to make him happy, you had to gather the mental energy to do so.

Taking photos then and taking photos now was so different.

Thinking about this, your chest tightens and you feel an invisible pressure on you that’s weighed down on you since you were locked away in this luxury apartment.

You remember being escorted through the hallways to the front door of your prison, the men around you hired from the very people who had trained, raised, and invested in the beloved Pro Hero Hawks. It was an agreement that you had no choice but to agree to. It was of no issue to shackle down one quirkless girl to keep their invested project from going rogue.

Your job was simple enough: keep him happy.

Keep him happy and you will be cared for, none of your personal information would be ousted.

They threatened to make you a pariah with just a click of their fingers and all because Keigo didn’t know how to handle a breakup. If you had known that it was going to be the result of falling for Keigo Takami, you would have never looked his way in the first place. You wouldn’t have been lulled by his quick wit and humor, and you would have never unknowingly signed your life away to a Pro Hero that all of the country fawns over. Even though he is the other half of the relationship, the public would immediately take his side because he is someone important and you are not.

When you stepped into the luxury apartment, there were balled up pieces of trash that littered the floor. There was a crinkling that you could hear further down but you were reluctant to investigate at first. Your escorts provided no help, only having done their job and promptly shut the door to your prison. When you picked one piece up, you slowly unfurled it only to find it to be a photograph of yourself a few years ago. It was taken with a group of friends for a going away party for one of them. The next one was of you just lounging in a beach chair and then another was of you captured when you were mid-laugh.

All photographs of you.

Keigo sat on the couch when you walked further into the apartment, just nonchalantly taking pictures out of a photo album from your apartment and crumpling them first before throwing them aside.

“I want these to be filled with only us now, okay? I don’t like thinking that you had a life before me.”

You had a life before him, one that was fulfilling even if it did come with some painful parts. There were regrets and mistakes before but it was your life and you cherished it. Truly you had wanted to fit Keigo somewhere inside your life, tried to realign his piece where you thought it should fit but the two of you were from different worlds. He had an invisible hand hovering above him to tell him how to navigate his world both on the surface and underneath, and you had freedom.

You had freedom but it was dashed away the moment you decided to break things off with Keigo.

He took it away.

These words have rung throughout your mind ever since Keigo locked you into this prison. They weigh heavily on you as you stare out the floor to ceiling windows, looking out towards the other high rises and down to the concrete ground where the civilians, other heroes, and sidekicks walk with no clue that you wished you were among them. It repeats over and over as you scrub yourself underneath the shower spray and lather fancy soaps and shower oils into your skin.

Keigo had gone to his agency upset with you.

He had woken you up with the flash of his camera and it had disturbed you. All he had wanted was just a simple photo of you sleeping, that’s all. The only thing you had to do was just close your eyes and play the part but you turned away with a quiet plea to let you rest. Even with your eyes shut, you must have still looked stressed so you didn’t look the part of a peacefully sleeping girlfriend when Keigo tried to ready the camera for another photo.

The film camera was slammed down on Keigo’s side of the nightstand and he left home without another word.

When he used to take pictures of you sleeping back when you were happy, you’d rouse with a playful ‘fuck off’ but happily pose for Keigo. Now it just felt violating when he tried to recreate what you thought was innocent before. Even with all the disgust you have, it’s still expected of you to do as he wants.

Keigo still wants the relationship to continue on as if you’re not threatened by the safety commission to remain with him, to act like this is all your own will.

You managed to salvage photographs of your old life, it’s the only thing you can hold onto that reminds you that you had freedom and your own will to do things. They’re hidden in your own special place, a little area that you’re sure to never give away because Keigo would be mad that you held onto something of your life before him. Photos of you living your life before Keigo Takami ever came along.

The ruined lines of the pictures make you upset since they were so pristine before but it’s all you have.

Staring at the you in those pictures makes you jealous but then also with pity.

If only she’d known what was in her future. If only you could touch this photo and tell yourself in the past, “Do not fall for the Winged Hero Hawks.”

You can’t allow yourself to wallow though; Keigo will be home soon and you need to put him in a good mood.

So you tuck your old pictures away and go through your walk in closet. There’s a drawer of intimates that are specifically Keigo’s favorites. He appreciated all forms of lingerie on you but his favorites were sheer nighties with the matching colored thongs. So you pluck one out from a drawer and discard the silk robe to dress yourself instead. You build up the mental strength for when Keigo will come back home and you’ll need to do your part to make sure that he’s a happy man.

“Keigo! Ew, what if it comes out ugly! You have to tell me when you’re taking a picture of me!”

“Nonsense baby,” Keigo would chuckle and ready the camera again, “you always look perfect to me.”

You do miss the happy times with Keigo but you couldn’t recreate them anymore after everything that happened.

Inside the apartment you can hear Keigo having just come home so you take in a breath to steel yourself before presenting yourself to him. Taking the film camera on his side of the bed, you hold it in your hands as you walk out to greet Keigo. You try not to be scared when his eyes naturally look to you coming out from the hallway, his eyes drawing up and down before he sees the camera in your hands. “I’m home.” He announces as is the usual custom of any person returning from the outside.

“Welcome back Keigo,” you greet him and slowly pad your way over to him, “thank you for all your hard work today.”

Not that you know what his work always entails now that you know the hero commission is the one that handles many of the biggest cover ups and secrets that are supposed to serve the interest of society. The world of a hero was a much darker place than you had imagined it to be. It was more than just taking down bad guys in the streets and being a symbol of protection; there were dirty and bloody secrets kept at bay to keep the image of hero pristine.

You are one of them after all, a dirty secret to keep the number two hero happy and compliant to work under the commission.

“What’s all this?” Keigo asks with a touch of wariness but also an excitement that you’ve learned to recognize in your time together with him. He’s shrugging off his jacket after dispersing his feathers off and discarding his gloves as you approach, some of his feathers tickling your face as they float around you when you get close enough to him. “Lovebird?”

Keep your composure. Make him happy.

“I… I’m really sorry about this morning Kei. I was just in a bad mood and I took it out on you. Lemme make it up to you?” You ask in your sweetest voice. You reach one hand up to take off his glasses and headphones, setting them aside on the most nearby surface before brushing your hand through his feathery hair.

Waiting with bated breath, you wonder if he’ll be happy or if he’ll still be upset.

When he turns his face to kiss your palm, you’re relieved that it will go in a good direction.

“You really hurt my feelings this morning but I forgive you. You’re so lucky that I love you so much.” He forgives you, adoration shining in his eyes but you can see the twisted affection that’s mixed in as well. It does not sit well with you, it stirs uncomfortably in your stomach, but you can not fight him nor could you run away.

You agreed to this after all, to be his caged bird and let him believe that this life was the best for you.

Taking him by the wrist, you walk with him past the windows that overlook the city. The city that he protects, the city that you wished to be a part of again. You guide him to the bedroom where you’ve set up for what looks like a romantic date. There’s flower petals sprinkled onto the bed and candles lit, two wine glasses sit on a fancy wooden tray along with the wine bottle.

It almost looks like you’re on a honeymoon.

“Oh lovebird, all this for me? This is why you’re the sweetest.”

God, you wish you could just smash that glass over his head and run out the door. You wished there was some place you could hide and never be found. You wished that Keigo used to be his normal self before this.

You hand him his glass and clink yours against his, taking a sip to at least make you a bit more relaxed so that you could give him what he wants. “Easy baby, don’t drink too fast.” He reminds you after sipping and swirling the red in his glass. But you need to do this fast, get this over with so that you can rest as peacefully as you can.

“Sit on the bed for me, drink it slowly okay.”

Keigo sets down his glass on the wooden tray and readies the camera towards you. You had a friend that would take boudoir photo shoots, you’d attended with them before to watch them direct the model to look sultry and sensual. Thinking back on the memories, you can hear their guiding voice as you pose for the first photo.

The wine glass is emptied and your mind is fuzzy already, you’re grateful that you’re a lightweight. All you needed was just that first glass to get through the excruciating start. It makes it easier to do all this, tilting your head a certain way, posing your hand against your lips, lifting the sheer skirt of the mighty to tease with a flash of the pretty lace underneath. At one point your glass is refilled and you’re grateful that more alcohol will make it easier on your poor, stressed mind.

Photo after photo taken until Keigo is satisfied.

“Fuck baby, you turn me on so much. I’m glad we did this.”

Strangely enough, you’re turned on too but you believe that it’s the wine that makes your head swim with desire. Your drunk mind sees Keigo’s glass that he hasn’t bothered to pick back up and drink, mindlessly reaching and going for a third glass for the evening. There’s too much enthusiasm in how you attempt to polish off Keigo’s drink, a drop of the wine dripping down and then falling onto the sheer nightie. “Ah baby, slow down. You got some on you.” Keigo chastises you lightly.

Keigo takes away the glass along with the tray off the bed. Wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand, you lick off the traces of wine first before looking down and sighing down at the single drop of red wine. You lick at your thumb and see if you can rub the spot off even though you know that it needs to be treated with club soda first before giving it a wash.

“Baby, let’s get that off you alright? Can’t have you wearing this now.” Keigo’s hands are gentle as he slips the nightie off of you and a few feathers carry it to the laundry basket inside the walk-in closet. More feathers slowly separate from his wings but fall gently down on top of your body as you lie back. They tickle you and feel so soft as they land on top of your skin. With the wine in your system and your inhibitions lowered, you look exactly how he’s wanted you to when taking photos.

Soft and vulnerable, almost close to the person you used to be before you became a prisoner.

All that’s missing was the love in your eyes but he’ll settle for your stupid, drunk gaze at this moment.

“God, you drive me wild… you know that right? I thought about you all day,” Keigo mutters more to himself but you manage to catch his words, “I was so mad at first. I just want us to be happy but you’re so much more difficult these days. I do everything for you and I can’t believe how ungrateful you were!”

Your eyes watch as a feather takes position in his hand and recognize how it hardens to a sharpened edge. His feathers are soft but they can cut through stone like butter if he willed it. It’s held close to your neck and you instinctively cower from it. You’ve never seen his feathers do any harm and you wouldn’t like to know what it would feel like. “I’m sorry… I said I was sorry!” You start to sniffle, “Keigo, I’m sorry…”

His anger melts away and then suddenly he’s dropped himself on top of you with the feathers softly dropping by your head. His head nuzzles into the crook of your neck and he grips the bedsheets right by your head. This is what it’s like with Keigo now, to stand on your tiptoes around him and be ready for any mood swing he has. And he seems to only have two: either insanely lovesick or just resentfully in love with you.

You’re not comfortable with either but you know which one you would rather deal with.

When he barges into your personal space and nuzzles you with affection even when you don’t want to be touched, you’d prefer that over when he’s disappointed in you. That when he gives you the cold shoulder and he gazes at you with a lot of love and just as much disgust when you don’t act right, it’s more stressful to make up with him and make him happy with you again.

Because in the end that’s what you are there for.

It’s what the hero commission demanded of you.

Make Hawks happy and keep him happy.

So you hold Keigo close to you, your hand curling to the nape of his neck while the other rubs circles over his back. Your touch makes him melt and you hear a happy little sigh from him that it’s almost relieving to hear. When you feel his lips press to the pulse of your neck, you turn your head so that Keigo has more access to do as he pleases. The wine makes it easier for you to allow this to happen but it also makes you a bit more sensitive. He elicits sounds out of you that you aren’t sure yourself are acting from your end or genuine. Because Keigo has a talent for blurring the lines for you.

Underneath the fear you have for him, there’s still a bare string of love that hasn’t died. Love for him that he doesn’t deserve with what he’s done to you, but it remains even when you cry in your prison.

You tell yourself that relying on that last shred of affection of who Keigo used to be is what will be your survival tactic.

“Wanna kiss you, c’mon.” Keigo is capturing your lips before you have a chance to say anything. It’s not like you’d have the option to say no to him anyway. The wine in your bloodstream makes you a little lazy, just letting yourself receive his kisses rather than show equal enthusiasm. But your hands wander up his arms, touching his shoulders before sliding down to a zipper that lies at the back of his shirt.

This part is familiar to you as it is to him.

It’s an easy chore for him to move his feathers out the way when he either dresses or undresses himself. It’s what comes with having a quirk like his and it’s not something he’s had to think about at this point in his life. You pull the zipper down from the back and Keigo does the work of undressing the top half of his body, shrugging his arms out the sleeves before tossing the shirt aside. One hand presses into the space beside your head, the other hand taking yours right at his belt buckle. “Undo it for me.”

Your fingers are a little clumsy but you complete the task, pulling his belt from the loops and tossing it off the bed.

“This is yours, I’ve been waiting to give it to you.” Keigo mutters lowly as he smooths his hand over the print of where his cock lies. “Do you deserve it though? After making me mad this morning?”

You don’t want to be reminded of how upset he was nor do you want him to bring it up. You’re doing what you’re supposed to; being soft and compliant, wearing the clothes he wants, and just trying to avoid making him angry. The wine, the camera, and lingerie are all for his pleasure and none of yours.

“Is this… not enough?” you ask, your mind struggling to find the words at first, “You’re not happy that I did this?”

You’re given a gentle smile and he chuckles, like he thinks you’re being silly. His hand cups at your breast, the pad his thumb ghosting over your nipple and awes how it hardens under his touch. He says nothing to your question, he’s allowed to not answer your questions but you have to answer every one of his.

So when he asks, “You want me happy, right?”

You reply, “Yes, I want you to be happy.”

Keigo tells you, “Say you’re mine and that you love me.”

You have to repeat, “I’m yours and I love you.”

Keigo melts over your words and for now, it smothers the scary glint in his eyes that you’re too wary of. He’s sick on whatever his version of love is for you and you need to make him happy. The tip of your finger draws along the lace of the panties you still wear, catching his attention and a lustful groan breaches his lips. “‘M horny Kei… want you.” you mutter.

“Yeah? Can you show me? Go back to the pillows and show me, okay?”

You crawl towards the headboard where all the soft pillows lay. He doesn’t see how you’re blinking to get your bearings in order, flopping against the pillows and opening your legs for him. Pulling the panty to the side with one hand, you shudder as you drag a finger against your pussy and keep your eyes lowered rather than on him.

One finger teases into you as you hear Keigo unzip his pants, deciding to discard the rest of his clothes and he wraps his hand around his cock. He slowly strokes himself while his eyes are trained in between your legs.

Keigo watches as you finger yourself for him, drinking in all the whines that you yourself are unsure are for his entertainment or if you actually are enjoying yourself. Because it does feel good to finger yourself but it’s only being done since you had to make it up to him. There is no such thing anymore as Keigo apologizing to you for when you’re upset.

“Baby, you are such a pretty thing.” He mutters more to himself than to you. A feather floats into his hand and he crawls towards you. Just like before, the feather suddenly sharpens and you become scared. Your body seizes and you’re about to beg Keigo to not hurt you but he shushes you before anything is said.

He slices off the panty you were wearing, careful not to knick you and pulls the flimsy little thing off you easily.

You’re relieved when the feather softens and it drops gently to the top of the bed.

“Why were you scared?” Keigo asks, his tone of voice hard and his eyes narrowing at you.

Oh god, maybe you shouldn’t have drunk all that whine to relax you. You stutter over your words, speaking before your mind can actually produce a thought. “I thought you were gonna punish me…”

“Punish you?”

You nod your head dumbly, “‘Cause I made you mad today. You were right to be mad. I made you mad.”

A few tense seconds pass.

His hands are gentle as he rests them on your thighs, his touch reassuring and he coos over you. “You are such a good little bird. What did I do to deserve you?” He asks, pulling your hand towards his lips so he can suck the slick off your fingers.

You don’t deserve me. You took me away from my life.

“I um… don’t know. I’m just me.”

“And that’s all you have to be. You don’t have to think or do anything for yourself anymore. Just be you.” Keigo states for you. He moves to lie on his stomach, making himself comfortable as he starts to lick at your pussy with his hands resting on your lower belly. He does it gently, he’s always done it gently first before he gets more enthusiastic, working you up until you end up a whiny mess.

The sounds you make as he eats you out are real. They’re not made from an intention to lull him to a sense of calm; they are actually real. Keigo has always been genuine in wanting you to feel good, it’s where he puts most of his heart into. Everything else has changed but him wanting you to still enjoy sex has remained the same. He’s a giver in this sense but you can’t forget how much he’s taken from you.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you whisper, one of your hands tangling in his hair and the other grasping his hand. Your hips shift in want, writhing and grinding onto him as you get closer and closer to that peak.

If only this were like before everything had changed. Before he locked you away with all your rights taken away. As giving as he was, even if you hadn’t planned to break up with him, would he have taken away your life eventually? Done it little by little until it was too late to notice?

If you could fight him, you would.

“Oh fuck, I need you right now. So badly, you want me too right?”

But you let him take from you in order to live another day. To keep your sanity in check, you pretend when he kisses you that it’s the old Keigo that used to make you feel safe. He brings you to that high even though your mind is swimming. Your head is in a daze and you’re drunk and dying for him to let you reach that peak of heaven.

He drags you by your hips to pull you closer to him. Keigo wants to be in missionary and your brain rattles a little inside your skull. You’re drunk, whining as you attempt to focus your gaze, feeling feathers on the bed and just wanting to rest now at this point. You haven’t done much but you never have much energy these days when your mind is so stressed out. “Keigo. Kei, ‘m dizzy…”

“It’s okay, I won’t be too rough then.”

He leans down to give you a little peck before readying himself before you. The tip pushes in and you groan, feeling how he shallowly thrusts into you, like he’s teasing and making you want it. You’re not sure if you do but you have to act like it for him. So you beg him in the way that he likes, your voice a little pitched and breathless, telling him that you’re aching to be full of him. Missed you, I missed you, I miss you.

“Okay dove, okay. I’m here, see? Feel me here?” Keigo punctates the last word, sharply pushing himself into you with a grunt. He’s sheathed fully inside and he’s absolutely lovesick all over again as he looks down at you. “You miss me?”

I miss the old you.

“Mm-hmm… don’t leave me. Stay here.” you beg of him.

Words you used to say to him before everything changed. When you and him would make love before and you knew that he had to go back to the outside, you’d beg him so much to stay another day with you. To leave all the work to his sidekicks and make another sex video or take nude photos to put away in a secret box. Your head replays old memories of before as Keigo fucks you slowly, the sensual way in how he moves his hips into you making your eyes roll to the back of your head and you realize that you’re not acting anymore in the moment. “I’m about to cum, I’m gonna cum!”

He’s brought you to heaven in this hell.

Keigo tells you to keep cumming for him, rocking harder into you, cursing how good you feel around him and praising you for being such a wonderful little thing for him.

Your mind goes blank, voice catching in your throat, and your toes curl.

And then he’s rough, fucking hard into your cunt to meet you where you’re at.

Even after everything, Keigo still is beautiful to you as he cums. His eyes get lidded, the sounds he makes have the butterflies fluttering in you, and you can pretend for just a few seconds that it used to be like before. He used to drop down next to you, breathless but happy, and you’d revel in the short time you had together with him before you had to return to the daily routine of maintaining the life you built.

But now all you have is time to do nothing and all you are is just a bird in a cage.

“I just want a comfortable life for you. I love you, you don’t have to do anything.”

He claims to love you.

That’s why he didn’t like it when you broke up with him, because he says he loves you. That’s why he had to get the commission involved, because he was too heartbroken to continue his hero duties and obsessed even harder over you. That’s why he wants to erase any life you had before him and just fill it with him only in the same way only you consume his thoughts.

Just Keigo.

The high of an intense orgasm has you gasping for breath, almost emotional as you hiccup and tears come to your eyes, and you don’t know where all these emotions are coming from. You try to stop crying because you’re scared Keigo will take it the wrong way. He needs to be happy, it’s why you put yourself through all that.

“Shh baby, it’s okay. You were so good.” Keigo hushes to you without coupling with his usual tender touches. You wipe at your tears, looking up at him just in time to see the camera poised in his hand.

Flash!

A few days later, you look at the photos that were taken of you from that night. Your stomach burns uncomfortably as you look at the pictures, unable to recognize the girl in them knowing fully well that it was you photographed. The very last was Keigo’s favorite, the one of you with tears on your face and looking… beautiful actually.

You look at the photo, admiring it briefly before you turn it over.

For a while the camera goes missing. Keigo finds it later hidden inside your drawer of underwear, but he decides to let it go. All the pictures he took were accounted for, which was what mattered more to him.

[typhoonvash]

Gravity shifts back to normal with a sigh from the universe. Vash still stands atop the roof perched like a hawk; the only sign that he's still active are the movements of glasses and the metamorphoses of his shadow and silhouette. He lurks—cocking his head at the stampede of feet heading away from him, then immediately jolting his gaze to a man who believed he has the upper hand.

It's the same man Vash had confronted before, and he's hiding behind a stone barrier that lines a solid balcony. Though the street is silent, so silent you can hear commotion on the other side of town, the persistent gunman calls out to him, "I'm not scared a you! You're just some kid—y'ain't foolin' me!"

"then shoot."

Vash's mumble is inaudible save for someone with incredible hearing.

The man rises from his cover, gun primed, ready to fire, only for the weapon to clatter over the balcony to the cobble below—one shot fired, and it wasn't from him. Vash turns away from him, leaving the man with a shot through hand to knee. It's not fatal, but it's very clear the man will not be firing a gun or walking anytime soon.

Satisfied, Vash's shadow returns to something more familiar, human, as he spins his revolver around his finger to holster it and finally turns to look at Wolfwood. His eyes are full of cautious relief as he drops from the roof to glide over to the priest's side. The blond makes sure to stand between him and any potential sight lines. No one else is shooting Wolfwood as long as he has anything to say about it.

He's still twitchy, not yet out of this newly discovered monstrous form, half-focused on detecting hostiles as if he is a space-age radar. His voice is freezing cold when he does manage to speak up, "I can get us back to the inn, but it won't be safe there. Let me know if you're uncomfortable. You'll be okay, Wolfwood."

Carefully, trying desperately to keep as much blood as he can in the man, Vash lifts his companion not unlike the way a groom would his bride. The wound exposing his side makes this immensely more difficult than it should be—if he weren't in his current state, he'd be in a panic. Bones should not be exposed like that, none of what Wolfwood is dealing with should be. Vash tries to keep his hands away from the worst of it, but one hand grazes the open wound upon picking him up.

Vash flinches, then slowly shifts his hand to somewhere more amenable to being touched.

"Hold on to your gun," the outlaw's ice-blue eyes seem to melt slightly as they meet Wolfwood's, "I can make it easier to carry, I think."

How would a one-winged angel fly? Wouldn't he simply thrash around, flopping like a worm larvae out of dirt?

Eyebrows knit with intense focus, eyes shut as he fights a sliver of doubt and calculates his path. He looks up, takes a breath, then beats the wing.

The two actually ascend, and with two well-timed flaps Vash seems to turn off the gravity again—it looks strenuous. Sweat beads on his skin, but does not fall. He's fighting tooth and nail to stay balanced as they swoop from roof to terrace to roof to balcony; the inn is in sight when there's a distinct pull and a strained inhale-exhale.

"Almost... there."

Pulling becomes uncomfortable tugging. Vash grits his teeth, fighting a battle of attrition against his apparent control on gravity. With a final leap, the demon crashes onto their room's balcony and turns the gravity around him back on. He twists himself under Wolfwood and the Punisher to break the fall and starts panting, writhing in pain as the wing retracts. Keening behind his teeth, trying oh-so-desperately not to make too much noise, Vash lets go of his precious cargo.

Between agonizing groans, he somehow manages to heave an ask out of his gut, "Do you... need me... hrk... to help...?"

Heat ripples from the paver stones, flash-preserving droplets (splashes, smears) of gore in the chalky dust, lending the fall of brass and bodies an almost tinny echo in the artificial canyons built here over the crevasse. Wolfwood feels it before he can see it, the change in the air, a dramatic sonic shift from the dry crack of gunfire and desperation in the blistering light of afternoon suns.

Absence becomes Presence, reverberating like bullroarers in his ears, in his bones, in the blood he loses and that his body desperately claws back under improper dosage, in the strings of reattaching muscle, in the rattle of his heart as valves slam open, slam closed, stuttering in awe.

Terror. Wonder. They share the same root in language and in truth, for all that it is easy to forget how much power lies beneath the dopey smiles, the mop of needle hair, the noodly limbs and the goofy affect. The convivial veneers are convincing and they are not.

Nothing to fear. No. He won't. He can't. Instinct is instinct, and his has always been to protect. Sure as bloodstained fingertips smear on the Punisher's corrugated trigger housing, Wolfwood seizes hold of the fresh jolt of adrenaline coursing down his spine, down his limbs.

A perfect storm. Vash. The folly of the day. All of it.

(Beautiful and terrible, beautiful, beautiful. He does not know the look on his own face, though some dark part of him suspects it must be how Legato looks at Knives. Best to crush that notion down into a hard ball of anger, compartmentalize, deal with it later, ensure there is a later).

Panic ripples across the worm-hunter gang. Slugs chatter, shatter to brick and stucco and compacted sand, and Wolfwood howls for Vash to get to cover, shooting right back at limbs, torsos, hands, struggling to keep his violence non-lethal.

Lost in the noise, perhaps.

Full-auto the building-bound riflemen rip through their ammunition until gun barrels glow, aimed up, aimed down, aimed at the cross, aimed at the unfathomable thing that has emerged from broad daylight to eclipse the suns like a hand over the eyes of God. Huge and tendrilous his shadow falls cold and vast, red, red, red, and none of them can know if the bullets they've emptied into the alleyway gap strike home.

Many of them hang in the debris field hovering in Vash's orbit, glinting with deadly promise, drawn up like a ring against the force of gravity.

Clips emptied, what choice do they have but to flee?

The ones who have not fainted scatter in horror from the dark angel in their midst, dragging their wounded with them. For all the bloodshed, there are no corpses to be seen.

It will only be a matter of time before they return with reinforcements, with more ammunition, the promise of the bounty too great to keep them away forever.

Nicholas braces against the wall, but his knee buckles before he can find his feet. Genuflect, then. He shoves his mangled pouch back into his maw, chewing the dregs of Communion from ripped stitches and broken glass while he reloads, pale and hyperventilating.

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

11!

Based on this gif

From the bar Steve's eyes kept following Danny like a hawk. If he were sober, he may have cared about playing it cooler. But with each beer he cared less and less if seemed approachable or not.

Parents of friend's of Danny were renewing their vows in Hawaii, so there were plenty of people Danny once knew on the island. Most of them were married, either to someone they were loyal to or to their work. It was odd to see Danny relaxed in a way Steve couldn't put a name to. Being surrounded by those who understood his temperament and matched it, or were used to it and thought it normal. They knew his choice of words and deeper meanings. They laughed at things that made no sense.

Steve's bad mood began with some self doubt as he wondered if he's done enough to keep Danny from feeling intense homesickness.

It only got worse when that one bachelor seemed to zero in his gaze on Danny like a target. Normal circumstances, Steve could easily control the situation. He could pull Danny away or have any of his friends act as decoys or distractions. Not this time. In this case, Danny's friends were creating openings and chances alone...and it seemed Stubbornness was a New Jersian trait spread through the air. Never has he felt so outnumbered, that he basically ended up at the bar to wallow in his self pity and wait out until Danny wanted to leave.

The bachelor's attempts were getting bolder despite Danny's disinterest. Or maybe the bachelor read Danny's kindness and desire for the familiar as interest.

Downing the remaining of his beer, Steve stalked through the crowd. He scoffed at the bachelor as he grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him along. "Can I steal you for a moment?"

Danny didn't argue with him. Once far away enough yet not leaving the venue, Danny asked Steve, "What's up?"

"Hm?" Steve asked as he turned them. That way Steve was facing the party, while Danny's back was turned to it. "What do you mean?"

"Seriously? You disappear most of the evening, you reappear just to drag me away from a conversation?"

"I disappeared? No! We were kept apart. Or really...I was ignored. For the sake of their scheme."

"Scheme?" Danny echoed.

"They want you back. They've been pushing that asshole on you the whole evening. Worse yet...he thinks he can have you." Steve said in a quiet and dangerous voice.

Danny rolled his eyes, "That's stupid."

"No it's not. I'd try the same," Steve said as he grabbed Danny's hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed Danny's knuckles. Then the back of his hand. Turned his hand and opened it to kiss his palm. Then wrist. Then he tugged Danny forward. The way the terrain was a bit steeped worked in his favor, Danny basically falling into him. Steve catches him and holds him close. The hand that's already in his, Steve directs to his groin. "That's yours." Steve lets go of Danny's hand and gropes him in turn. "That's mine." Using his other hand he pulls Danny flushed against him and gropes his ass next. "That's also mine. Now kiss me. And show these idiots that their plots and schemes are in vain."

It was an order. Normally, Danny didn't do those, but to his slight surprise, Danny's kissing him. They aren't in the center of the party, but they haven't walked away enough not to be seen.

The moment Danny's kissing him, he feels like he can breathe. When Danny pulls back and smiles at him, "Didn't do too well at making it clear you're my date, huh?"

"Let's book a room...that'll be clear enough."

"Go and get one. I'll say my goodbyes. "

Steve only left once he saw Danny walk by the bachelor and not give him a second glance. He also may have pulled out his badge and fibbed about the matter of importance and direness for the room. But he got one. Even one with a view.

He went back to the venue and waited for Danny by the entrance, hotel key in hand. Danny finished saying goodbye to the friends of the main event before coming to meet him.

The thrill and joy of Danny choosing him over the homesickness and nostalgia, or whatever else might be appealing, and choosing him sobered him up a bit. Or maybe it was his desire to always be the best sex in Danny's life so his gaze wouldn't ever wander.

There was something mouthwatering about Danny in ties. Part of him teasing Danny about it was because it was driving him crazy. He couldn't be trusted to not use it as leverage to pull Danny in for a kiss any and every chance he got. Danny's ties saw a lot of action in the bedroom.

At the moment, they stripped each other until they were each completely naked. If Steve was slightly more animalistic and literally ripped off Danny's clothes so he'd have to wear Steve's when they leave...it wasn't mentioned.

It wasn't long before Danny was moaning into their kiss as Steve thrust deep and hard into him. His legs resting on Steve's shoulders, giving Steve full control. This was Danny's gift to him. Letting Steve make passionate, possessive love to him all night long. Letting him be as rough as he wanted to be, as rough as he needed to be! Leaving Danny was as much marks and claims as Steve could imagine. From love marks around his neck, to red and swollen lips from kissing, to being full of load after load that Steve can pump into him.

~~~~~

They wake up to an invitation for brunch.

They accept and are the first ones at the reserved tables. Steve's arm is around Danny's shoulder and Danny's leaning into Steve. Hawaiian shirts they bought in the lobby that morning not buttoned all the way up displaying the mosaic of hickey's Steve left all over Danny rather proudly.

When it's there turn to order Danny tells Steve, "You know what I like."

And Steve shows off by ordering for them in Hawaiian.

Their relationship status is no longer ignored nor denied, though is heavily gossiped about throughout most of Jersey.

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 1 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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Most people knew that animals were in tune with the changing seasons: migrations, sensing weather patterns, and the likes. Sometimes, that extended to people with animal-like mutations, too. For some, that meant being able to feel approaching rain. For others, that meant bodily changes in relation to the weather.

Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, when cool air swept over and the trees began to turn gold and orange, and then again in early spring, when the snow began to melt, and the sun shined bright in midday, warming the air.

He owned a cabin in the north, secluded up on a hillside in the woods, where he would honker down for the week-long occurrence. It was much more tolerable alone, far from society, where his sensitive feathers could only pick up the sounds of his abode and the wildlife outside.

The cabin smelt like amber and pine trees. He always kept the fireplace stoked. The crackling created a soothing ambiance and it gave him a worthwhile distraction. As opposed to a traditional heater, the fireplace gave him something to focus on: something to worry over so he couldn't drown in his own thoughts.

Without fail, he would go to bed at the kiss of darkness, usually in a mess of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace, on his front with his wings stretched out beside him. Then, he'd wake in the early morning hours and watch the sunrise as if he had never seen it once in his life.

As poetic as it all sounded, it was more so for the sake of soothing his urges than anything else, to calm the animal side of his brain that was irritated at the very obvious thing missing from this.

But, at the same time, Hawks enjoyed it, in some ways. As stressful as a rut was, there was something soothing about the experiences. For a week, he could let go of everything.

In this cabin, he wasn't pro hero Hawks, winged hero, number 2, or anything like that. In this cabin, he was just Takami Keigo, even less than that at times. When lost to his senses, barely processing a proper thought beyond the warmth of the fire and the smell of the trees, he was just a man.

That time was approaching.

He could feel it, prickling at the base of his wings. His teeth were aching subtly with the desire to bite. Every little sound was setting him on edge. He heard your voice down the hall and it made him flinch with a sort of excitement, as if he hadn't heard you in weeks, when it had only been a day.

He already had an acute sense of smell as it was; but, it was intensified during this time. One of the trainees had burnt coffee and it nearly made him throw up. One of the sidekicks was wearing an ordinary cologne that never bothered him before; but, that morning, when he walked by, the smell made him want to punch them.

When he became irritable like that, was when he knew, especially, that time was dwindling and he needed to leave before it apexed.

"I'm heading out in a couple days," Hawks explained hastily when you stepped into his office. "I'll be gone for a week."

His harsh tone made it sound as if you were intruding on him, and he could tell that you noticed because you halted in the doorway. You were, actually, intruding. He had paperwork he needed to get done before he left. But, that wasn't the only reason.

Your presence swarmed him with thoughts; mainly, that he could bring you with him, show you the cabin. Would you like it? Of course, Hawks knew it was a natural desire to have, considering his physiological changes; but, still, the intensity of that desire was nauseating.

"Oh," you blurted, feeling nervous in his heated gaze. You weren't new to that hypnotizing, gold stare; but, it seemed a little different than usual, more intense.

"Uhm. Okay," you continued. "Was it a mission? I didn't see any briefing?"

Hawks blinked and the heated expression dissipated as if you had slapped it off him.

"No," he replied softly. "No," he added on, a little more sincerely. "I'm... going up north for a week."

He wanted to lie to you; really, any sort of bullshit would have sufficed. You had stumbled into this relationship knowing that he couldn't always give you everything, including the truth. But, for some reason, the truth felt right in this moment.

"That's good," you replied, stepping into his office to set some papers on the corner of his desk, adding more to the already impressive pile.

"You could use a vacation," you added on, stepping back, away from his desk.

It was in his nature to be perceptive, both in the way his quirk operated and by the man he chose to be: a hero, a spy, an assassin. Yet, his eyes were watching you with a sort of intensity that felt fiercer than it normally was.

Your sincerity was what bothered him. It would have been easier to blow you off if you were irritated by his secrecy. However, you, who knew better than anyone, what he endured day in and day out, was just happy that he was getting a break from it all: from being a hero.

Most heroes had a life to go home to, a family, a place where they could take off the cape for a little while. Most of the time, Hawks didn't.

He had found some solace in you. You gave him the breaks he so desperately needed; but, it was never long enough, barely a night, before the visor went back on. It wasn't fair to you, a fellow hero, to be expected to carry such a burden; yet, you seemed happy at the thought of making him feel ease, if only for a little while.

"I'm sorry," Hawks apologized.

The startled look on your face told him what you were thinking: that there was nothing to apologize for.

You didn't know about this side of him, this aspect of his mutation. That behavior sometimes seeped through. He'd get a little possessive, touchy, mouthy; but, you passed them off as just kinks. Maybe, they were kinks, and he was just making excuses for himself.

"It's something I gotta take care," he explained, as if he was rejecting something you hadn't even asked.

"Ok?" you replied softly. "Whatever you need to do, Hawks?"

He smiled one of the most pathetic smiles you had ever seen.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, tilting your head a little, looking down at him, across his desk, to where he sat opposite to where you were standing.

"You don't have to tell me," you continued. "But, you never have to do anything alone, you know?"

"Ugh-" Hawks laughed nervously. "This, I think I do."

You stared back at him with a gentle gaze; yet, he could easily catch the bit of attitude in your eyes, like you wanted to call him out, but was holding back.

Yeah, he knew. He fucking knew. You had been there through some of the hardest battles, dragged him out of burning buildings, took bullets for him.

Your first kiss was in a hospital room.

His broken arm was slung up in a cast and poking painfully into your chest, and the bandages on your neck were itching at his skin. Still, neither complained. Not when you finally, finally had each other. Not when the truth came pouring out and almost a damn year of tension boiled over.

Barely a week had passed since that moment. You didn't give your broken bodies enough time to heal before crawling into bed together. He had made love to you, so softly, with gentle words and careful touches, before flipping you over and ramming you until you saw God, wings flapping and breaking things all over the room.

"It's not a mission, or any hero business," Hawks answered, scratching at his neck nervously.

Now, you were really concerned. 'Hawks' and 'nervous' were not usually uttered in the same sentence. He knew he shouldn't tell you; but, fuck it, he wanted to. It was especially difficult when you were looking at him like that, like you would do anything for him.

"Okay?" you uttered, as if ushering him to continue.

"It's... biological," he answered carefully.

Seemingly catching an unspoken queue, you closed the door to his office and leaned against it, staring at him with a calm, inquisitive gaze.

"My... mutation-" he began, breaking off in a groan.

He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand across his face. That nervous look etched across his handsome face, was something of a spectacle, and you had to bite back a smile.

"I go into a rut twice a year," he explained hoarsely. "It's more tolerable somewhere secluded; so, I got a place up north where I tough it out."

Some feral, sick part of his brain wanted you to stupidly ask him what that was, so he could explain the insatiable desire to take you like there was no tomorrow. But, of course, you knew better than that, blinked slowly, and leaned back, a thoughtful look on your face.

"You do that alone every year?" you inquired.

"Huh?" Hawks blurted, not expecting that to be your concern.

"Is it better that way?" added on softly.

Hawks stared back at you with a stupid look on his face, eyes wide and lips parted, unblinking with the faintest tinge of pink coloring the tops of his ears.

Fuck no, it's not. He would love to have you there, to show you the home he's made over the years, to snuggle with you in front of the fireplace, to make you breakfast, to bend you over every god damned surface-

"Probably," he answered.

"Hawks," you scolded him gently.

He laughed quietly and adjusted his posture, trying to sit upright instead of slouching back in his chair. He ended up settling for placing his elbows on his desk.

"It's fine," he said reassuringly, waving his hand around. "It's like a posh camping trip."

"A high-strung posh camping trip," you corrected him softly.

Hawks stared back at you silently, as if he was mad that you saw through him so easily. 'High-strung' was a nice way of putting it. His ruts made him mean, irritable to an irrational degree, carelessly crude, and shamelessly possessive.

"Do you want..." you trailed off.

For all Hawks knew, you were going to say something completely different than what he was thinking; but, the mere thought of what you could offer had him at the edge of his seat.

"Would you want me there?" you asked.

Yes. Holy fucking shit, yes.

But, that wasn't what came out of his mouth.

"It's probably not a good idea," he protested softly.

You frowned at him, tilting your head a little, and tightened your arms where they were crossed over your front: a silent gesture telling him that you expected an explanation.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he explained, his normally calm and suave voice lowered. It was clear that this wasn't just caution or worry; this was a warning.

"How would you hurt me?" you dared to ask, voice soft, more so trying to soothe his worries than agitate the beast.

Hawks let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know," he breathed. He looked away, and you watched him drag a hand through his hair, pushing wispy blonde bangs out of his face.

"I get really... worked up," Hawks continued, his warning tone still present. "Pissed off and horny and-... shit. Not like normal. I don't think right: it's consuming."

When he turned back to you, and saw that you still looked relaxed, eager to listen, to understand, Hawks' tense shoulders relaxed a little.

"I don't know what I would do to you, and that scares me," he warned in a low, harsh whisper. "The only thing I know is that, if you come with me, after you enter that cabin, I won't let you leave."

"Okay," you uttered back.

"What?" Hawks gawked. "Fucking hell - you realize what I just said, right?" he asked, clearly irritated at your casual response.

"Of course I do," you retorted sharply, snapping at him a little.

He released a sharp exhale through clenched teeth. "I don't think you fucking do," he growled. "I won't let you leave. I'll take you whenever I want. That's - you know what that is."

The word felt so heavy in his mouth, weighing down on his tongue, like he wanted to spit it out. It tasted awful, and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

You, surprisingly, glared at him like he had just insulted you. Maybe he had, in some way. Hawks rarely ever underestimated you; but, this wasn't a battle or heroism. This was raw, animal nature, him and you reduced to instincts.

Through his perspective, it was challenging his humanity, his love for you. But, through your perspective, it was an aspect of his nature, of something he was born with, that he couldn't stop or change; and you wanted to guide him through it, to be there when he needed you, regardless of the feral implications of it all.

"It's not rape if I want you, too," you snarled at him.

The glare he was wearing dissipated in an instant. Hawks gawked at you, stunned at the bold proclamation, his hands slipping limply off the edge of the desk and onto his lap. You watched his wings shutter faintly behind him before relaxing against his back, as if they were resisting the urge to fan out.

"You don't have to do it alone," you began softly.

"You don't-"

"Let me finish," you interrupted him gently.

Hawks obeyed, smacking his mouth shut. You doubted you would ever forget the expression he was wearing in that moment, gold eyes bright and shiny, staring at you almost in disbelief, with some awe and admiration.

"I know I don't have to," you continued. "I'm not offering out of some kind of obligation. I want to - to go through this with you. Hawks, I - I want to get to know this side of you, too."

He was, as you had come to know, a man of many faces. There was the silly, cocky hero he showed the masses, and the calculating, cold assassin he showed villains.

Those few who got close, heroes he trusted, knew he was kind and selfless, always willing to take the front lines, to risk it all. Behind closed doors, you knew he was charming and equally demanding as he was giving.

"If it's what you want, Hawks?" you added on softly.

Hawks blinked slowly. "Yeah," he exhaled heavily, like he had been holding his breath. "Fuck, I do. But, if I hurt you..." He trailed off, leaving the words unspoken, though the implication was obvious enough.

You fumbled nervously against the door, not because you were afraid of what he might do, but because you were surprised by your own emotions, by your lack of worry.

Maybe, it was just unwavering trust for the man who had been by your side for so long. Or, maybe, Hawks had managed to unlock some feral desires inside you that you never knew existed before him.

"Few months back, when you left so suddenly, it was for this, wasn't it? We were together then, but you didn't tell me," you uttered.

Hawks nodded, silently answering your question. It had come on so suddenly that he had no choice but to make a quick getaway, and let the planning fall on the wayside.

He at least made the time to tell you, albeit over a quick phone call, that he would be gone for a week and not to worry. You hadn't pressed him, figuring it was a sudden, unexpected mission.

"When you're in your rut, I - well, what am I to you?" you asked.

Shamelessly, Hawks recalled that he had thought of you, even before you came together. The beautiful woman whom he trusted with every fiber of his being, sometimes his sidekick, always his fellow hero, someone who had been there for him.

"My... mate," he answered quietly, as if he didn't want you to hear him.

Mate... not as eloquent as a lover and with a feral and obvious implication. Maybe, that should have been degrading, disgusting, being reduced to such a thing. But, it felt strangely tantalizing. As lewd as it might have sounded, mates were still equals, partners in love and war.

"You know..." you began, pausing briefly as you approached Hawks' desk.

His gold eyes followed you closely, looking up at you with a sort of softness that didn't quite fit with the conversation. But, if you were being honest with yourself, you liked it that way.

"-partner, lover, friend... You called me your 'personal pain in the ass' once," you said, laughing softly. "I... want to be your mate, too, Keigo."

You were careful about when and where you said his name: it was a sacred secret, something he trusted you with so dearly, so cautiously. But, sometimes, he really needed to hear it, especially when you needed him to know you were serious.

"-if you'll have me?" you added on quietly.

Rather suddenly, one of Hawks' feathers zipped across the room, wrapped around the door handle and flung it open.

You were so distracted by that flying plume that you almost didn't notice Hawks reach for the pile of papers, grab a few off the stack, and angle them at you.

Someone stepped into his office: one of the lawyers, by the look of their expensive suit. As they did, Hawks pulled the papers back and offered you a soft smile as he set them on the pile.

"Thanks. Is this all of them?" he asked, bright and cheery, a forced voice you were quite familiar with.

Somehow, you managed to catch up to him before you did something stupid. "I think so," you replied, matching his bubbly tone.

"Thanks," he chirped. "Oh, and your time off request has been approved, in case you missed the email?" he added on in a flawlessly professional tone.

You stepped away from his desk and carefully walked around the man, who had completely ignored you and was staring down Hawks like a starving, ravenous animal.

"Thanks, Hawks," you replied sweetly.

"Of course. Have fu-!" he cheered as you stepped out, barely cut off as the lawyer slammed the door as soon as you were out of range.

[waitineedaname]

8- gordon at Benry

“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”

“Huh? You didn’t say no, though.”

The moms of Joshua’s soccer team were an impenetrable clique. Gordon had no idea why, but for whatever fucking reason, they’d decided they hated him. Maybe he had brought the wrong snacks to practice, maybe they didn’t appreciate Joshua teaching all their sons swear words, maybe he cheered a little too loud at games. Whatever, he could deal with a little pettiness and false politeness from a bunch of housewives. He’d dealt with worse.

It was one of the first games of the season, and it was Gordon’s turn to bring drinks for the team. He was almost at the soccer field, hoping his pack of mini Gatorades would appease Joshua’s teammates, when he realized he was bringing an additional unknown variable: Benrey. The former security guard tagging along to all his outings had become such an expected occurrence at this point that he’d completely forgotten that Benrey had never gone to one of Joshua’s games before. He grimaced to himself as he pulled into the parking lot. Benrey had gotten a lot better about not doing blatant alien shit in public over time, but he was still a rogue element. Gordon could only hope he was in a chill enough mood to not make a scene on the soccer field.

Joshua had taken off running in the direction of his friends the moment the car parked, and Gordon and Benrey followed a distance behind, Gatorade packs in hand.

“Gordon, you made it!” One of the soccer moms waved at them as they walked over. “We were worried you might be late again.”

Gordon tried to turn gritted teeth into a smile. “Just because I was late one time, Katie, doesn’t mean I’m always going to be late.”

Katie gave him an equally fake smile and turned her gaze on Benrey, who was setting his pack of Gatorades down next to the cooler. “And who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met!”

“Hm?” Benrey glanced up at her, then reached out for a handshake, his hand still damp with condensation. “Yo. Benrey.”

“Katie,” She said, shaking his hand for as short a time as possible. She glanced between him and Gordon, trying to make some kind of connection between them. “Are you Joshua’s… uncle?”

“What?” Benrey squinted at her from under the rim of his baseball cap. “Nah, I’m Gordon’s fiancé.”

Gordon promptly choked on air.

Katie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “I didn’t know Gordon was engaged!”

“Aw bro, you didn’t tell them?” Benrey turned his version of puppy dog eyes on Gordon, which was really just an intense stare since he’d never quite figured out how puppy eyes worked. Gordon thought he could see mischief behind the stare.

“Man, can you blame me? It happened pretty recently.” Gordon tried to convey ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’ without giving them away to Katie. Benrey just grinned and grabbed Gordon’s hand, doubling down.

“Well! I’m glad Joshua’s new stepdad could make it to one of his games!” Katie said, clasping her hands together.

“Yeah, I’m excited. Joshie’s gonna kick your kid’s ass, gonna make all the touchdowns.”

“Um.” Katie faltered, and it took all of Gordon’s strength not to snort. Never had he been so pleased by Benrey’s ability to throw anybody off their rhythm. “Well, our boys are on the same team, and it’s soccer, not f-”

“Huh? What? Sucker? What’re you calling me?”

“Okay! Well! We better go get our chairs set up!” Gordon yelled, dragging Benrey away before he could make it worse. Which led them to where they were now, sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the field, Gordon struggling not to completely break down into laughter. Benrey looked impossibly smug, slouched beside him.

“What was I supposed to say, man?” Gordon continued to protest. “I panicked! God, I’m so fucked. How am I supposed to explain that we aren’t engaged without sounding like a lunatic?”

“Just don’t? Easy.” Benrey shrugged.

“No, you don’t get it. She’s gonna be watching us like a hawk to see if we actually act like a couple.”

“Okay. Guess we gotta act like a couple now.” Benrey raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you’re chicken? Baby chickenshit? Too afraid to act like he wants to smooch his best friend Benrey?”

“I’m not afraid, asshole.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

Oh, a challenge, huh? Well, when he put it like that, there was no way Gordon could back down. Gordon leaned over and put his hand on Benrey’s shoulder. “You’re on,” He said, rubbing his thumb affectionately on the side of Benrey’s neck for good measure.

Pretending to flirt was way more fun than it should’ve been. It felt like second nature to lean in a little closer to talk than they would normally or to throw around obnoxious pet names to make each other laugh or to initiate extra physical affection. It felt so natural, in fact, that Gordon almost forgot why he was doing it as he got more distracted by Joshua’s game. Joshua’s team only needed one more point to win, and Joshua had control of the ball, and Benrey and Gordon were absolutely riveted. They were holding hands, but both of them weren’t even paying attention to that, far more concerned with being the loudest people cheering from the sidelines for Joshua’s success. When Joshua kicked as hard as he could and the soccer ball shot to the back of the goal, Gordon shouted “yes!” at the top of his lungs. Giddy with excitement, he turned, grabbed Benrey’s face, and planted a kiss directly on his mouth.

He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until he was already on the field, hugging and congratulating his son. Mortification shot through him like a spike. Oh shit. It was only a dumb competition, he definitely took it way too far, Benrey was never going to let him live this down-

Benrey’s head bonked heavily against his shoulder, an established form of affection Gordon had gotten used to over the past several months. Gordon leaned away from Joshua to give Benrey room to ruffle the kid’s hair and give him congrats of his own. If he hadn’t been so focused on the two of them, Gordon might have missed the sidelong look Benrey sent him and the slight smile that accompanied it.

Joshua was momentarily distracted by one of his friends running over and talking about something a mile a minute, which gave Benrey the chance to nudge Gordon in the side. “Hey,” He said. Gordon looked over at him just in time to receive a kiss on the cheek. Benrey grinned at Gordon’s dumbstruck expression, then scooped Joshua up onto his shoulders like nothing had happened. “Yo, Joshua! Your dad is gonna buy us ice cream!”

“Wh- I never said that!” Gordon protested, following them as Benrey and Joshua chanted ‘ice cream!’ over and over the whole way to the car. He laughed and shook his head. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the soccer mom clique on his own anymore.

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

[lyallblacklupin]

My Truth about you.

Remus has a tendency to practice self-deprecation after full moon when he gets new scars. This time it is a big one on his face. He thinks that he looks hideous, but Sirius is there to tell him otherwise. 

Remus smacks the book on the table so loudly that even students sitting at the ends of the table jerk from their seats.

The marauders are staring at him with hanging jaw and bulging eyes like hawks.

“You okay there, Moony?” James tentatively asks.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” Remus glares at him, aiming his index finger towards the bandaged wound on his cheek. It has been three days, and everyone is steering clear from Remus’ way. The last full moon was a disaster that mostly did damages to his face and neck. He hated facial injuries, not because they were difficult to heal but they made him look ugly—considering the fact, his boyfriend is ten times beautiful than he could possibly imagine himself to be.

The silence settles, tinged with discomfort.  The marauders go back to their lunch before they are running to their classes. Throughout the whole day including the supper, Remus’ mood was at the same foul place. Sirius is trying hard not to step on his nerve that might trigger and eventually cause Remus to curse and boycott everyone and everything. Remus can see it but pretends it to be unacknowledged. He knows that Sirius is the only person he can be himself with, but not with the others because, James and Peter included, everyone is eyeing him with weird looks on their faces that mostly blooms one thing: fear.

They all go to their dorm, and begrudgingly Remus flops on the first bed. He remains there with his chest glued to the soft sheets, his face buried too, sniffing a strongly familiar scent. Before he processes the picture of the person in his head, a voice calls him out.

“Moony?” It is soft like the petals of a fresh white flower and silky like chocolate. He doesn’t open his eyes. He can feel that the exhaustion of the day is dumping out of him, dissipating into thin air.

“Moons?” This voice is much clearer but he doesn’t dare open his eyes again because there is something on his head, brushing his hair. He can picture it. Long, slender white fingers are spreading and fisting his golden curls.

And then, a kiss. On the temple. So gentle that he wanted to sink into its holiness. He groans with the felicity of experiencing such celestial intimacy.

“Wake up, Moons. Just for a moment then you can go back to sleep, love.”

Remus opens his eyes because this time he is shaken by the figure that is intoxicating him with their presence. And there he is. Grey eyes like silver orbs staring at him with such solace and the rippling dark hair are let down. The sight is scenic. Remus asks himself why didn’t he just look at his boyfriend the whole day. He know if he had, his day would’ve been spent much better. The regret is not strong but sweetly painful because Sirius Black is the foremost person in his life and being ignorant to his presence is nothing but ungratefulness.

“Sirius…” And he smiles. Sirius Black smiles his delicate smile which is only reserved for him. He hums in response. “What are you doing here?”

“The question is, my dear Moony, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is my bed.”

“So? This is my bed, too.”

“Okay, okay, this is your bed too, Mr. Grumpy.” He chuckles but Remus continues to glare at him, “What!? Okay at least get up and take off your school robes. I’ll lend you my pajamas.”

Remus doesn’t move from his position because he knows if he surrenders, he will lose the chance of Sirius undressing and caressing him. There is always something ethereal about Sirius’ touch. He touches Remus like he is made of delicate glass.

And then it starts happening, Sirius is getting him out his school robes and shoes. The moment is pure bliss and dreamy. Once Sirius was done, Remus looks up to witness him staring at his face with an intense yet unreadable expression. He reaches out to cup Remus’ cheek, and then suddenly Remus flinches away. He hasn’t forgotten it. The ugly feeling started assembling back to him, making him feel all blue and dejected instantly. Sirius has caught that look on his face.

“Hey, don’t…” He whispers.

“Why not!? I’m hideous!”

“You are not hideous! You’re not even close to hideous! You are very attractive and beautiful—“

“Stop! Just stop. I don’t want to hear this, Sirius.”

“Moony…why? Why do you think like that?”

“I-I never had a scar on my face…before it used to be like the tiny ones on my nose or jaws or my lip or eye or…dammit! Everywhere! They are everywhere!”

“Shh…” Sirius draw close to him and made him sit up. He laces his arms around Remus’ neck, forehead pressed together, breathing each other in.

“This one is the worst, Sirius…my life is the worst! I mean if I was meant to be cursed with this physical affliction, the least God could have done was to spare me with its brutality! I don’t just go through this physical pain, it is the mental pain too! Where I have to stand before this bitter truth that tells me that I have no future. No job, no living, no healthy relationships, fuck! No health at all! I can’t pursue my education because I’m not a human. I can’t have a family of my own. There’s nothing I can have that a normal person does.”

And then he feels lighter. His heart is not heavy anymore. But tears are streaming down his face, wetting his hands in his lap. The most remarkable thing is that Sirius is still breathing him in. They are in the same position. But he doesn’t look up to hold Sirius’ gaze. Sirius is quiet like an obedient cat.

Remus’ hands move, as if they are automatically functioning, and clutches the fabric of Sirius’ shirt on his chest. He still doesn’t meet his eyes. He just clings himself to him. His head resting on his shoulder, and Sirius holds him by his waist.

“I’m sorry.” Sirius whispers in his ear, “I’m sorry you have to go through all of this. I know you said that you don’t want to hear it but it's the truth and you deserve to know it. You are perfect to me. And I don’t think I can be more honest about that. Look, Moony,” He pulls away gently to meet Remus’ eyes.

“Do you care about others’ opinions about you?”

“No—“

“Do you care about our, me, James, Lily, and Peter’s opinion about you?”

Remus knows what answer Sirius expects, but today—at the moment—is Remus’ truth day, he cannot say things that he meant half-heartedly. The truth is and has always been this: He only cares about Sirius Black. It is a mad truth but it is what it is. He was mad. Madly in love with Sirius Black.

“Moony?” Sirius’ eyes narrow down on him skeptically.

“I care about what you think. I care about you, only. It’s strange and weird and insane but it is…it is my truth.” Remus has said it, and there is no turning back because Sirius is looking at him blankly. His face is flushing, his mouth is in a thin line. He presses harder. His lips become thinner, his jaws clenched and his nostrils flares slightly. It is not anger. Remus can tell. He knows him. More than he knows himself. He is trying not to cry but then there are tears floating in those eyes and then fell simultaneously. Then they are falling.

“I just…can’t see you like this…” Sirius says, and Remus knows he is struggling with his voice.

“I’m sorry—“

“Are you mad? No, you don’t have to say sorry, you idiot.” It makes Remus smile because they conversing in whispers and it feels so beautiful, “Of course, you can say all those things to me, you know vent out, don’t keep it inside you. I just…get you know, anxious. I want to make your pain easier for you. I know how much you suffer but I can’t feel exactly how you do. And it makes me feel indebted, I guess? I don’t know…I just want you to be happy.”

Remus tugs a lock of Sirius’ dark hair behind his ear. His index finger still lingering there.

“Remus,” Sirius continues, “I can’t promise to fix all of your problems, but I promise you that you will not be alone in dealing with them. I’m gonna be here as long as it takes, no matter what and how. I love you, you know that right?”

Remus nods at him, blinking away the tears. Sirius leans into Remus’ left and plants his lips on the cheek which has the long jagged scar. His lips are there for longer than they should have been. He is kissing the scar as if it is something sacred.

And just like that, he uses Remus’ position as leverage to make him fall on the bed. And Sirius lays his head on his chest as he grips his torso. Remus can smell the coconut shampoo from his hair.

“You’re beautiful. And that is my truth.”

Remus hears Sirius say before the sleep drifts so quickly by the aid of each other’s warmth and love.

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

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

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 6

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Warnings: Angst, morning wood

Length: 1.5k

Notes: Back at it with their bullshit!  Finished this and even though I’m not as ahead as I’d like to be with this fic I have a general idea where it’s going so I’m posting this before I feel like I should? Enjoy! Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛 Header by me 💋

Parts ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE

Sleep slowly faded away, like a heavy fog evaporating in the morning sun, and your consciousness was becoming aware of a few things all at once. You were unseasonably warm, you had a raging headache already, and you really needed to pee. The arm slung over your waist was doing nothing to ease the latter issue, but it was also the reason for your warmth. 

This was the first morning, since moving into the drafty old farmhouse, that you had woken perfectly cozy and warm. You could say it was due to the fact that you had passed out in your leggings and hoodie but you didn't even want to pretend it wasn't because of the living furnace currently snoring softly into the back of your neck.

Normally, as a morning person, you would jump out of bed and be putzing around the kitchen by now. However, you had no desire to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that waking up cradled in Frankie's arms had created. Morning light was already streaming through the edges of your curtains, casting your room with a warm glow. You watched dust motes dance in the air as you relaxed and matched your breathing with Frankie’s even as his mustache tickled your skin with each of his exhales.

Deciding to give yourself another ten minutes you carefully, as to not wake the grumpy farmer behind you, pulled up the blankets and wormed your body further backward so his curved fully around yours.

Frankie hummed in his sleep as his arm subconsciously tightened around your waist, his large hand spreading out so that his pinky was touching your hip bone and his thumb caressed just under your breast. His mind was still deep in slumber but his body was, er, waking up.

Visions of last night bombarded your mind as you laid there, body frozen and barely breathing to avoid waking Frankie. 

Opening up to Frankie, and he to you. Crying, him making you tea, you asking him to stay so you wouldn't be left alone with the ghost of Brad to haunt your dreams... Frankie had surprised you both, if the look on his face was anything to go by, when he had agreed. The initial awkwardness of laying in your bed together, fully dressed. He had eventually started telling you stories of his childhood friends and their adventures and his soft, raspy voice had lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

All of that, however, had been more intimate and exposing than you'd ever been with anyone. Having Frankie wake up, after all of that emotional intensity, to having his boner pressing into your ass? It would be too much, you didn’t want that level of awkwardness detracting from how each of you had let down your walls for each other.

Slowly, very slowly, you rolled to the edge of your bed and slithered to the floor, avoiding the creaky floorboards on your way to the bathroom.

As you stood at the sink, gazing at your reflection, you were pleasantly surprised by your complexion. No bags, no dark circles under your eyes, just a bit of smeared mascara that was quickly wiped away. Last night's slumber had done wonders for your body. Before this morning you hadn't realized how much tension you had been carrying, or how your poor nights had been weighing on your mental state.

One great night's sleep, the best night's sleep you'd had in a long, long time, had completely restored you. Just sharing a bed with another person, nevermind the fact that he was extremely sweet, thoughtful, and hot as hell, had given you the tranquility you were missing. You instantly craved more. 

It killed you to acknowledge it but a battered, bruised, yet healing part of yourself cried for independence. Reminding you how little of it you've had. It wanted you to be happiest on your own and not need someone else to feel comfortable and safe.

Hating to agree, you knew that bitch was right. For however nice that sleep had been, and however much you craved it again, you knew that you also needed to find happiness in yourself first. Brad had done so much damage, you needed to heal yourself and find yourself again before adding another person into the mix.

Taking a deep breath and coming to terms with your new resolve, you finished your morning routine before exiting the bathroom. Seeing that Frankie was still snoring away, you decided to run to town for coffee, thinking it would be a nice way to thank him for his kindness and company.

Writing a quick note and leaving it on the table, you stepped outside into the beautiful Autumn morning. Grabbing your bicycle you made the short trek to town, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

Town was busy for such an early house, and you were met with a line of customers in the bakery when you entered. The din of chatting friends nearly drowning out the bell chime above the door. Agnes, the owner ‘for over forty years!’ gave you a wave before giving her attention back to the tourist family at the counter. The smell of cinnamon, coffee, and yeast instantly enveloped you and your stomach growled making you want to order everything they had to offer behind the counter.

Knowing it would take a while before you could place your order, the owners of the place liked to stop and chat with customers, you meandered over to the community notice board that hung on the wall near the little bistro tables that graced the front window.

Amidst the notices for lost dogs, babysitting services, church service meetings, and town hall meetings was a poster for a fundraiser that caught your eye. The local youth group was organizing a county fair to raise money for a skateboard park to be built near the school. Visions of cotton candy, excited girls bursting with glee, and purses bursting with prizes flooded your mind. You had loved visiting the fair when you were younger, and decided that helping out would be a great way of experiencing that excitement again.

Grabbing a phone stub you called and signed up as a volunteer. The lady you spoke to was ecstatic and your offer to help and couldn’t wait to meet you. This was a great opportunity to meet more people in the community as well, you realized. You’d been so busy working at Morales Acres and then on your home, you hadn’t put very much effort into getting to know anyone else.

On the bike ride back home, you felt like you were walking on sunshine. Not only was your bike basket laden down with sweetbreads and a new French coffee press, which Agnes had sworn was foolproof, but you had also convinced Jacquie to volunteer for the fundraiser. It hadn't been hard as her eldest child, Cole, was very keen on becoming the next Tony Hawk.

Your future was looking so bright. There was guaranteed girl-time with your new best friend, meeting new people doing something that sounded super fun, and while you had decided to not dive into anything romantic with Frankie, you were looking forward to spending more time with the grumpy guy hiding a heart of pure gold.

Regardless of the crick in his neck, his belt digging into his hip, and his feet sweating from sleeping with socks on, Frankie woke with a smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. Despite the discomfort, he'd had a dreamless, deep slumber and woke fully rested.

He could try making excuses for it, blame it on the cider, the tiring workday, the spent emotions, but deep down he knew it was due to you. You, who had asked him to stay. You, who had given him so much comfort by just laying next to him. Not only that but he felt like you truly saw him when he spoke. He had opened up more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in the five years since he'd moved here.

He hadn't told you everything yet, the last time he'd done that he had scared away his wife and lost his daughter. He feared that he could lose you too if he told you about Columbia, Tom, the money, and how it had brought out the worst in him. 

Frankie had felt safe enough to share his struggles with cocaine, his failed marriage, and losing custody of Annie. You had only shown sadness and concern, there had never been pity or judgment in your gaze.

Coming out of his inner reflection, Frankie soon became aware of just how quiet your house was. He could tell you had left the bed a while ago, as the space you'd occupied had gone cold. There was no usual humming or singing, no footsteps or signs of life. Slightly mystified and erring on the side of caution, Frankie slipped silently out of bed and began sweeping your house room by room.

By the time he made his way into your kitchen, his heartbeat had gone from a panicked staccato to a slow beat heavy with dread. The truth slapping him in the face: you had left. You'd woken before him, slipped away without saying anything, and left your own house in order to avoid him. Frankie couldn't help but wonder if you regretted your plea for him to stay.

Had he taken advantage of your emotional state? Was staying the wrong thing to do? Even though nothing sexual had happened he still felt like he had done something wrong, and felt horrible for it. Had he talked in his sleep, or maybe lashed out from a dream he didn’t remember? 

Should he leave and give you the space you seemed to want? Should he stay and apologize? Glancing between the stairs that led to your bedroom and the front door, Frankie hesitated while weighing his options. With a sigh, he shook his head and made up his mind. Grabbing his coat from where it rested on the table, he told himself he was doing the right thing. You’d call when you were ready to see him again.

The lightness in your heart very abruptly turned to confusion when you arrived back home, just shy of an hour after you'd left. Frankie's truck was missing from your driveway.

Walking inside, you placed your breakfast and coffee on the table and had a quick look around for any signs of Frankie. When your search turned up nothing, not even a note back, you slumped down onto a dining room chair with a huff.

Had Frankie just got out of bed, grabbed his coat, and left? You tried to not read too much into it. Maybe he had run home for a shower? Or new clothes?

After finishing off your third cinnamon twist, you pushed the bag away from you in disgust with a little too much gusto and it thumped onto the floor. Heaving a dramatic sigh, you reached down to grab the muffins that had spilled out of the paper bag, and that's when you noticed the note that you had written to Frankie had fallen under the table.

Despite yourself, and what your therapist had cautioned you against, your mind automatically conjured up a scene. Frankie waking, glad that he was alone. Making his way downstairs, reading your peppy little note and throwing it away with a scoff. Leaving in a hurry, glad to be free of you and your issues.

Your heart sank, even while your brain fought against the imaginary scenario. Eventually, just barely, your head won. 

When he hadn't shown up after two hours you began to worry. The two extra-large coffees in your system, why let his go to waste? didn't help matters.

By dinner, you were miserably painting the guest bedroom, alone. You told yourself he just needed some space as he had opened up his heart to you in a way he probably hadn’t in a long time. You decided to wait for him to call you once he felt comfortable enough.

Part Seven

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[1994sunflower]

Hey! First of all, I love your story SO MUCH, you’re such an amazingly talented writer! Also, I was wondering if you could dig deeper into Micheal’s soft side (never get tired of it) in which maybe Y/N is sick, like she collapses for high fever or something, and he has to take care of her

thank you so much!! and ofc, I love exploring michael's soft side. he can be such a sweetheart when he wants to be (which is like never lol).

in which you’re sick

It would have been bearable if it was just exam week. You’d done that a million times. But the fact that you were also doing grad school applications along with your extracurriculars - suddenly you felt as if there was not enough hours in the day. In a week even.

Even with the sacrifices you’d made. You’d taken to forgetting food times. When you did remember, you’d have to eat during one of your other activities, usually studying and that just led to spills and half eaten food. It had only been about a week into these habits that you had gotten sick with a cold. It wasn’t a surprise, you were overworked, exhausted - no wonder your immune system was depleted. But it made your work and concentration that much more difficult, you’d cried more than once at the circumstances.

But maybe the hardest has been forgoing seeing your beloved boyfriend. It wasn’t that he was a nuisance, it was just that he was distracting and right then, you didn’t have to time to deal with distractions. Lest he succeed in distracting you like he so often does.

It’s been nearly two weeks since the last time you saw him. Something he agreed very begrudgingly to. But he knew how important your grades were so he agreed nonetheless. You texted him nearly hourly but still it felt nothing like having his comforting presence right next to you. It might have been the reason you caved and let him come visit you after he insisted. Not that he likely would have accepted your denial. He missed you just as much and he needed to see you, especially with how worried he was starting to become.

He used the excuse of bringing you lunch and you, weak and missing him, accepted it, knowing he would probably try to stay for much longer than just that.

But you could deal with that and him firmly when it came to that. He always listened to you.

You were at your desk, crumpled papers beside you, tissues, and about ten different tabs open on your computer, with the beginnings of one of your many application essays open on your tablet. You kept alternating between the two works and by the end of it, you almost felt a hysterical scream wanting to leave you. Nothing was good enough.

When you heard the keys clinking at the door, was the only time you had snapped out of your almost unhealthy focus on your work. By the time you realized just how awful you look, it was too late. Your hair was in a ponytail, different strands already falling out of the scrunch by how much you tugged at your hair in frustration. You wore no makeup and the bags under your eyes were more prominent than ever. The sick pallor to your face was probably so much more obvious, if the sniffles and occasional cough didn’t give your sickness away. Not to mention the pajamas that still adorned your body.

But Michael had already opened the door before you could even think of last minute changes to your appearances. All you could do was turn around in your chair to face him, clearing your throat in hopes of pushing back any coughs.

Just as it’d been nearly 2 weeks without seeing him, it’d been 2 weeks of you living this mentally drained lifestyle. And you looked it. Not that it mattered. Michael had never made you feel insecure or anything but the prettiest girl he’d ever laid his eyes on. He loved you, no matter how you looked.

And that was proven when he finally took you in after 2 weeks of not seeing you. His eyes shone with the same love they always held when he looked at you, now with also a sense of relief at finally being right with you. No hint of judgement.

There was a third emotion there too. Worry. But you didn’t have time to try to dissect it because you knew it would just lead him to get you to take a break and lose time you could be spending on working.

Normally you’d be the one who greeted him first, excitedly. But you were too tired to hold that same energy and you hadn’t used your voice for anything other than frustrated groans. All you could do was smile weakly when Michael lifted the bag of food in his hands. The action made you swoon just a bit, you knew it was likely his first time being so attentive to someone, going beside himself to make sure they’re fed and bring it to them. He never would have the same detail with anyone else.

“Got your favorite.” Michael gravely voice finally hit your ears and you had to close your eyes for a second. You’d missed him, much more than you had allowed yourself to think of.

Opening them back up took more effort than you wanted to think of. It seemed that now that you weren’t hyper focused on the work in front of you, the mental tiredness you had been ignoring was finally starting to seep in.

When you stood, you had meant to say a ‘thank you’ before walking over to serve your food but the moment you got to your feet, you felt a wave of dizziness overtake you. Your body swayed for a moment, only stopping when one of your feet that had almost lost its footing, stomped down and you took a hold of the back of the chair you just left. Eyes closed tightly to try to center yourself.

When you opened your eyes, Michael was staring at you with wide eyes, intense with the worry that had been there before much more prominent. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, coughing slightly despite yourself. “Yeah, sorry. I think I might just be hungry.” You tried for a giggle to lessen the mood but Michael didn’t smile or relax at all. His eyes just raked in your figure.

“Are you sick?” That would have been bad enough but if he knew you were sick and didn’t tell him so he could have made sure you were okay, all hell might break loose.

“Sorry I didn’t have time to make myself look better today, okay?” Your tone was a lot snappier than you intended for it to be and that he expected, as evidenced by him rearing back in surprise. You were just so tense. But instead of apologizing you just made your way over to him. No wobbling, no swaying. You were fine.

You didn’t want to deal with defending how you took care of yourself (or rather how you didn’t). You didn’t have time anyway. You’d barely have time to eat what he brought you but the least you could do was eat a bit of it.

“It smells great.” You sniffled. You tried to reach for your food but Michael moved the bag back. His eyes never left you, analyzing every little move you made. It was unnerving. You couldn’t imagine how others withstood his gaze whenever he was angry at them.

“Y/N-” You made an impatient sound. Every time he said your first name, he was serious. And somehow, right then, it made you defensive. “You said you only needed a few weeks to focus on your shit and that you’d be fine without me having to check on you.”

“I am fine.” You muttered yet you couldn’t quite meet his eyes when you said it.

“Yeah? Is that why you got dizzy just from fucking standing up?” His words were harsh and loud but you knew it was because he never really figured out how to show concern any other way. He was worried.

“I told you, I’m just hungry. I didn’t have breakfast today.” But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say because you saw his eyes flare up with even more concern and anger. But right then, after spending days multitasking and still not even making a dent on the work you needed completed before your rapidly approaching deadline, you were able to match those emotions.

“Michael, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you today, okay? I’m busy and if I’d known you came here to judge everything I’m doing I would have told you not to come. I’m doing my best! Why is that….why…”

It was getting hotter in the room. You’d felt the warmth all day - week even - but as your anger and voice rose, so did the temperature. You barely had time to register the light headedness.

Your breath was shaky by the time you finished your rant and your eyes becoming suddenly distant as you looked around, confused, before you were falling backwards. You would’ve hit the ground if Michael hadn’t moved first and caught you in his arms.

You didn’t hear the frantic calls of your name, more scared than perhaps anyone had ever heard him, the apathetic man he was, sound. You didn’t feel the way Michael’s hands gripped your body, trying not to move you too much lest he do more damage. You didn’t feel the same dropping of his heart when he saw you go down and the freezing fear in his veins. The only thing you felt was his huge, shaky, sigh of relief when you opened your eyes a handful of seconds later.

With much effort, fluttering them to try to keep them open. You couldn’t really see what was in your line of vision, everything was so blurry. Eventually, it was too much effort and you kept them closed, but you felt yourself being picked up and carried. His heartbeat was fast, you felt as he carried you with your face pressed against his chest.

The first movement you made when he finally put you down on the soft bed was furrow your eyebrows, then your hand was rubbing your face. By the time you opened your eyes, confusion set in “What…?”

You didn’t finish when you looked beside you, seeing Michale on his knees next to the bed to be on your level. He looked paler than you’d ever seen him, eyes wide and watching you like a hawk.

It was then that it hit you that you didn’t really know how it ended up that he carried you into your room. You remember getting mad at him, the warmth that slowly overtook you, then the next thing you knew, you were in his arms.

Panic struck you next. How much time had you wasted? You had a final paper due by the end of the week. You had to submit an application in two days.

But when you attempted to sit up, much too fast if your dizzying head was anything to go by, Michael pushed you back down. No longer trying to negotiate with you. His eyes shown fiercely - letting it known that there was no room for compromise.

You couldn’t stop the four coughs that escaped you as you stared at him, pleadingly.

“Don’t.”

“But I have to-”

“You just fainted, Y/N.” Michael almost sounded mad but the waver in his voice gave away his true emotions. “You’re sick and your body’s exhausted, obviously. You’re not going to do shit. You’re going to rest and I’ll…handle it. Contact your professors or whatever so…don’t worry about deadlines or anything.”

His voice made it clear there was no point in fighting against him. Even though his relationships with professors was less than friendly and he never cared enough to ask for extensions for anything before in his life.

He took your hand in his big ones, dropping his head to rest his forehead on top of your fingers. As gentle as you’d ever seen him. “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?”

You didn’t answer for a long time and you were grateful that he wasn’t looking at you anymore so he couldn’t see the way your eyes filled with tears and your lip wobbled. You didn’t mean to scare him, or neglect yourself. But if you took the time to do anything else, you’d be behind. You were so tired.

“I d-don’t know.” You said as a few hot tears ran down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

You felt his hands brush some of your hair from your face softly. “You scared me.” He admitted and somehow, you knew that for Michael, admitting that weakness was hard. But he didn’t mind being vulnerable in front of you.

His eyes bore into you, almost too intensely for you to be able to handle. Until his hand came up to your forehead and you found the excuse to close your eyes so you wouldn’t have to watch the worry in his.

“You have a fever.” He got up and you didn’t even get the chance for your sluggish brain to wonder where he went before he was already back, carrying a small bowl of water with a rectangular mini-towel on top. You weren’t sure how he knew exactly what to do for you, how he seemed so soft and tender in these actions that were so unlike him.

He put the cool, wet towel on your forehead as he sat next to your lying form on the bed. He was so close to you, leaning over you. You were scared he would get sick because of you but when you finally opened your mouth to speak again and told him so, he ignored you. As if that was the last thing he was worried about.

From the moment you collapsed, his attention had been on you and nothing else. Nothing else mattered in his mind. And that translated in every attentive action that made you feel so taken care of. This side of your brash boyfriend, the caring, delicate side at a time when you needed it most nearly brought tears in your eyes. It made it very obvious that despite what he might seem to everyone else, he was the perfect boyfriend, would make the perfect husband. For you. He made you feel supported and at home even when your body and energy seemed to be turning their backs on you.

“I’m hungry, Mikey.” You tugged at his sleeve. You weren’t sure if you were, really. You’d gotten used to the pulsing headache from the lack of food throughout the week. But judging by the heaviness of your eyelids, threatening to close and the weakness in your body, in your energy, if you didn’t eat, you might shut down again.

Your voice was croaky but he didn’t comment on it. His answer was almost automatic, “I’ll get the soup I brought you.”

You’d almost forgotten why he had been there in the first place. He’d insisted because he had missed you. And you missed him. He came to take care of you, going out of his way to do what he would never do for anyone else, just never imagining you were at your limit.

It was almost embarrassing. Being in your weakened state in front of him and having him tend to you like a child. Especially when, sitting up in your bed with a disorientation and a feeling of tiredness that seemed to be the only things you could truly feel at the moment. Plus the muted feeling of stress that never seemed to go away; it was screaming that you should be doing your work, that you’d fall behind.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on it before Michael came back with a bowl of warm soup in his hands and sat next to you again. Saving you even from your own thoughts without realizing it. He placed the soup on your nightstand and it wasn’t until he began to get a spoonful that you realized he meant to actually spoon feed you.

To think of your boyfriend doing anything so nurturing seemed almost unnatural. Yet here he was, without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment. It was such as mismatch from his personality, his reputation and it melt your heart to think that he cared about you so much to throw all of that away for you and his worry for you.

You could only manage a feeble, “You don’t have to…”

Michael stared at you silently for a while, not a decipherable emotion seen in his face, before bringing the spoonful of soup up to your lips. “I want to.”

And while you knew Michael wasn’t a big talker, those three words dripped with sincerity. Matching the loving actions and gestures he was currently doing for you. It was clear, if it wasn’t already before, that nothing was more important than being there for you when you needed him the most.

He didn’t let you talk again until you finished the food, feeding you each sip. Until he was satisfied that you had eaten enough to compensate for your lack of nutrients the weeks he spent without you. This was just as new to him as it was for you to see, this side of him. Doing things that he never would have dreamed of doing for someone else. But it felt like second nature when he saw the woman he loved more than anything else in such a vulnerable state. He yearned to take care of you, to provide for you. To keep you happy and healthy. Especially with how often you take care of him.

“Was it good?” He asked. Though he knew you would’ve liked it. If not simply for the fact that you hadn't eaten much else then certainly for the fact that he went out of his way to go to your favorite restaurant and pick your favorite item from their menu. The one you got every time he took you there.

You nodded, “Thank you.”

You weren’t expecting it when Michael enveloped you into a hug. So tightly you couldn’t even hug him back even after you got over the shock. His face was buried in your tangled, messy hair. He breathed you in as if taking in the fact that you were okay, he mumbled into your hair, “I know how much you care about school and how hard you try because of that but….none of that shit matters compared to you.”

It was so hard for him to be without you for so long. But he did it for you, to give you the time you had asked for to focus on your work. It had never occurred to him the bad mental state the solitude could leave you in, what it would do to your physically. If he had known, he never would have let you be alone. He would’ve fought you tooth and nail if it was what it took but he would have checked up on you, been there for you. And that’s exactly what he’ll be doing from now on. He’ll be there for you.

“Get some rest,” He reluctantly let you go. “You need to sleep.”

When Michael got up, though you were objectively much too warm because of your fever, you felt a lonely cold. You didn’t want him to stay away so you could study and work anymore. You needed him and all the comfort he brought to your soul. And he didn’t want to leave you anymore either.

“Mikey!” You called to him as he switched off the light to your room. You heard him hum in answer. “Don’t leave, please.”

He didn’t answer you. But you felt him get into bed beside you, kicking off his shoes as if it wasn’t the middle of the day - as if he had nothing else he would rather do than sleep right then next to you. And by the way he put his entire day on hold the minute he saw your condition, you guessed he didn’t. You had an inkling that while you had every intention of not letting him distract you when he had first arrived, that he had already been planning on staying the entire day anyway.

You were glad he did. You wouldn’t have been able to keep going the way you were if he hadn’t forced you to confront your self-neglect and tended to you with such dedication and love.

Both of you were silent and you could feel your tired body begin to drift to sleep when your boyfriend spoke up from beside you. “Promise me you’ll start looking after yourself, no matter how stressed or how much stuff you have to do. Promise.”

You weren’t snuggled into him like you would want. But you could feel him on his side, staring at you in the dark. His voice was serious with a hint of desperation. He needed to hear you say it. To know that his loved one would never be put in such a mistreated circumstance ever again, you didn’t deserve it. Nothing deserved to have you feeling anything but cherished, healthy and confident. Not even yourself. Because he believed in you so completely.

Though he never planned on leaving your side, emotionally or physically, to have any negativity enter your thoughts or habits ever again. He was willing to carry the weight of the world if it meant you would feel the strength and happiness that had been beat out of you.

“I promise.” Your words were small but it was good enough. Michael took you in his arms then, again not caring for any risk he was running of getting sick himself.

The next time you spoke, it was mumbling against his shirt. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I must’ve looked so gross because I didn’t really get ready all week and I-”

“Shut up.” His words held absolutely no bite, they were whispered. “I don’t give a damn what you looked like today. You never look bad to me. I only cared about making sure you were okay. And I’ll keep being here to make sure, I’m never leaving you alone again. I promise. No matter what you say.”

Your heart felt so full at his sweet words, just for you.

Then it was back to the comfortable silence. Until you began coughing again, this time against his chest and you tried to pull away quickly, both scared for his health and embarrassed. “Michael, seriously, you’ll get sick.”

But Michael’s strong arms were like steel bracketing you to his body. Unmoving despite your protests. He only cared about finally keeping you to him, where he knew he could protect you and keep you close, especially after so long without you and having your health deteriorate because he wasn't around.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll get my own class extensions then if I do.” He said it seriously, and knowing his academic achievement, or lack thereof, you didn’t doubt he meant it.

But still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his words, knowing he was smiling right alongside you without even having to see it. It felt foreign, laughing after so long of your negative thoughts and stressed lifestyle but nice especially because of all those things. A positive, carefree spirit that filled you because of your loving boyfriend and being so cocooned in his protection right at that moment.

[shoutogepi]

His Reaction When His S/O Reveals They Have a Breeding Kink

with Hawks & Todoroki Shouto

genre : [ ✘ (NSFW!) ]  

hc prompt : how would he react when you reveal you have a breeding kink?

author’s note : so this is uhhhhhhh nasty but y’all asked for it (not that i hated writing it or anything heheheeee)

Hawks

honestly you’ve been waiting for a long time to tell him about your dirty little secret. it feels shameful to have such a weird kink, something that gets you dripping wet when you think about it. and you certainly have thought about it, many a time before when he’s thrusting into you. you’ll close your eyes, imagining him whispering those nasty words to you, instantly making you clench onto him— and he has absolutely no clue that your mind is racing with such sin.

it’s taken, well, an embarrassing amount of time for you to finally sack up and just tell him, and now that you’re here underneath him, your heart is racing in your chest. before he’d gotten home you’d been so confident that today is the day you’ll tell him, but now that he’s sucking his mark onto your throat, his rough and nimble fingers slipping underneath the hem of your panties to tug them down your thighs, your voice is silent.

when you finally manage to squeak out his name, hawks stops his assault on your neck and leans back to look at you. the tone of your voice immediately alerts him that you’re uncomfortable, and it startles him into moving his hands from your thighs to rest gently on your hips, those gold eyes peering into yours. “what’s wrong, feather?” he asks, the usual playful tone absent as his thumbs stroke across your skin. “not in the mood?”

you shake your head and look away, heat rising to your cheeks as the moment of truth approaches much sooner than you’re ready for. “i am, i just… i wanna tell you something,” you say, eyes trailing back to lock with his. “and if you don’t, i mean— it’s kind of, uh, weird— so if you’re not comfortable with it, please just forget i ever said anything in the first place, and we’ll just continue like normal, okay?”

hawks is looking at you thoughtfully, and he takes you by surprise when he presses a chaste kiss to your warm cheek.

“well, ‘yanno you’re dating a birdman, so i'm used to weird... but alright, go ahead, dove.” this man never fails to make you smile, even if this time it’s less than half-hearted, the blood rushing in your ears.

after a very uncomfortable pause, you finally say it.

“i kind of have an, um… breeding kink.”

you’re not looking at him but hawks’ eyes are the size of dinner plates. he’s absolutely floored that his sweet little bird indulges in such nasty thoughts— that something so intimate and rather, well, primal could possibly make you squirm.

you take his shocked silence as a rejection, just wanting for this embarrassing confession to be done with, and forgotten. your hands cover your face in mortification, hiding your skin so you can’t feel his judgement “oh god, we can just— please just forget I even—“

his hands grab your wrists, secure enough to pull them away from your face, but gentle enough not to shake your mess of emotions further. a sentiment unlike any you’ve seen before fills his half-lidded eyes, which hold your gaze almost magnetically.

“don’t be so mean, birdie. you’re gonna take it back before we even get to try it out?”

your flushed back hits the cool sheets as he pushes you down, crawling up your body so he hovers above you. it’s your turn to look at him with wide eyes, and that cocky grin is on his lips once more.

“want me to put a baby in you, dove? god, that’s fuckin’ sexy,” he groans, hand dancing along your jaw and dipping his thumb between your lips for you to suck on. his knee slips between your legs, pressing against your pussy so he can feel you twitch in anticipation.

red feathers shiver behind him, the only visible sign you can see that conveys how truly excited he is by the premise of breeding you. well, that and the raging erection he presses into your naked hip, his thin pair of briefs doing their best to hold back his throbbing cock.

“gonna fill you so good, feather, you’re gonna look so good all round with my kid— fuck,” he groans, ripping off his underwear and lining up his swollen tip with your slit. he’s achingly hard and a trail of precum dribbles down his length, another sign of how into this he must be.

he moans as he slips into you, and your back arches as his hips bump yours, his cock nestling all the way inside your ready core. he starts off slow and passionate, taking your leg and slinging it over his shoulder to reach even deeper.

he will not stop his impassioned assault until you’re begging for more— for him to fuck you harder, rougher, faster. and hawks is definitely a tease in bed, so he’s gonna be pretty playful, even while he’s humoring your kink.

“yeah, dove? you want me to fuck you faster? need ‘ta feel these balls fulla my kids slap your pretty pussy?”

“take it, feather— take this cock and show me how bad you wanna carry my kids. fuck yeah, louder— wanna hear you sing for me.”

“god, you’re fuckin’ soaked. y’like hearing me talk about knockin’ you up? y’like it when i tell you i’m gonna make you my mama bird?”

hawks wants to fuck you as deep as he can, so when he cums his seed covers your womb as much as possible. he knows you love it, and it drives him crazy when your pussy clenches onto him as he’s climaxing— like you’re desperate to milk him dry and take every drop of his load, so your body can become swollen with his kids. knowing that only makes him orgasm harder, and maybe he even shoots out a few extra ropes of release because of it.

he will certainly incorporate this new kinky knowledge into your regular sexual routine, and you can safely bet that he will also use it to his very satiating advantage when he’s dealing with his ruts.

GOD when he’s in a rut, this birdman will take you to the next level. his hormones are already screaming at him to mark and claim and fill you, and that extra awareness that you want the same thing just feeds it even more. pray for your pussy during these times. and thank god he has the salary he does, because you’re gonna have to keep buying new sheets, again and again.

hawks will never make you feel judged for having such a kink, because he himself embraces it wholeheartedly. it makes his cock so hard knowing that the premise of him putting a kid in you makes you that wet. he will indulge you to the absolute fullest, and when he’s finished breeding you each session, you’re gonna be worshipped like the absolute queen he regards you as.

Shouto

so if you’re dating shouto be prepared for your friends to assume you like vanilla sex. it’s not that they don’t think he’s not physically capable of fucking you into next year (he’s a pro pero, like, have you seen his muscles?), it’s that shouto has always seemed more of a reserved, analytical kinda guy to most. but as his s/o, you’re exposed to the real shouto, the sassy, suave, and kinky motherfucker.

even if he is kinky, you’re still a bit hesitant to let him know about your breeding kink. the kink is, after all, not the most conventional, and it’s a bit of a… raw and crude kink, compared to others. and of course, you’ve never really revealed this part of yourself to any of your other lovers, because you hadn’t realized you even had the kink in the first place until you met shouto himself.

but the thing is, shouto is such a kind and understanding boyfriend, that you don’t feel too intimidated to keep the kink to yourself for long. actually, it kind of just slips out one night when he’s already balls-deep inside of you, taking you from behind as you’re bent over the kitchen sink.

his fingers are hooked in your hair, bending your spine to his will with his other hand firmly planted on your waist to keep you in place. he’s fucking you so roughly that your submissive nature is oozing out of every pore, your face probably twisted into the most lewd ahegao expression possible.

it’s clear that the reservations of your natural state are tossed out the window in front of you, and it’s not like shouto is holding anything back either with the way his hips are slapping into yours, groans tumbling from his lips.

at some point he’s shifting your leg up onto the ledge of the counter so he can drill his cock into that familiar sweet spot of yours, which coincidentally is located deep inside of you, close to your cervix and therefore your womb. the stars that dance along your vision cloud your brain, and you start babbling numbly as he finds the exact spot with precision.

“p-put a baby in me,” you whimper, pussy quivering to hug his intruding length, your legs nearly shaking at the intense stimulation.

shouto’s hips halt immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath, heterochromatic gaze connecting with yours in the window reflection. for a second he’s wondering if you mean you want to start a family with him, but after examining the carnal lust simmering in your eyes, he realizes what you’re truly asking of him.

and it turns him the fuck on.

“you wanna have my baby, hmm?” he growls and thrusts into you particularly hard, slamming into that sensitive spot and drawing a broken moan out of your breath-starved lungs. the hand on your waist travels to splay against your abdomen, long fingers pressing into your soft skin. “want me to fill you up,” thrust, “flood this pretty pussy with my seed,” thrust, “and make this perfect body swell with my child?”

you’re crying out as he starts pistoning into you, this time much harder and faster than before. he’s jabbing your g-spot with the head of his cock, the veins that decorate his thick length rubbing deliciously against your velvet walls. you can’t even form words, the premise of him knocking you up dominating your brain as you beg for more, for him to give you a baby.

your pleading is really getting him there, his cock aching to just stuff your pussy with his load already, but shouto wants something more. in no time he’s flipping you around, pushing your legs up so your calves rest against his broad shoulders. his hands gripping your waist, thumbs rubbing over your stomach as he eyes your flesh, he frantically pumps himself as deep as he can inside your heat. you can’t help but clench at the look on his face, his eyes fixed on your stomach as if he’s imagining what you’ll look like, belly round with his baby.

and oh my god, his dirty talk is absolutely sinful. he’s really finding enjoyment in exploring this new kink with you. 

“you’re gonna look so gorgeous carrying my baby, angel.”

“i promise i’m gonna give you load after load, ‘til you’re round and full and— shit, you really like that, huh?”

“you’re gonna be a good girl for me, right y/n? be a good girl and say ‘thank you sir’ when i give you this cum— fuck, come on, baby— say it.”

when you both finish (it doesn’t take very long after that), you kinda just laugh together, and even though you’re still a little embarrassed that you were the one to bring it up, shouto makes you feel safe and accepted, because he seems just as into it as you.

it’s safe to say, that isn’t the last time you two explore your breeding kink. after the pair of you have become more comfortable with the kink, shouto finds himself getting perhaps even more into it than you.

he’ll research what positions he can go the deepest in, and will not be afraid to bend you into them because he knows you love it when his cum seeps into you as deep as possible.

he buys you a plug to keep his cum inside of you— “you thought i was gonna stop after just one round? don’t make me laugh, baby, we’ve got another two gos at least until you’re full enough for me to use the plug.”

his mischievous ass will make you wear it out in public, dragging you out on a date or to grab lunch with his siblings. and you have to pretend that everything’s fine, that your pussy isn’t packed to the brim with his seed while you make small talk with his clueless sister.

when fuyumi asks if you enjoyed the meal, he’s quick to answer for you, his eyes meeting yours and glittering with something darker. “oh, y/n’s absolutely stuffed. isn’t that right, angel?”

you’re sure as hell getting dessert when you return home too.

➥ masterlist

➥ prompt party masterlist

[script-nef]

Compensation | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

3k words; Dinner date [5/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

The door clicks behind you as you retire into your room after another day of work. Fatigue aches at your bones and the bed is soft underneath as you flop onto it. Investing in a cushiony blanket and mattress is probably one of the best decisions you made in your life. If not the best. 

Drifting away into dreamland sounds amazing. If not for All Might.

“A text is here!” 

“Toshinori…” Even though your favourite character is Hawks, there’s no way you’re not setting Yagi as your ringtone. Groaning, you blindly reach for the phone while not moving your smushed face. Comfort prioritises over the ability to breathe. 

Gojou: Hey! T minus an hour to our reservation! Get ready!

Ah, this. Gojou has made good on his promise to make up for the dinner you missed thanks to his theatrics. Something bubbles in your chest.

Since the beach incident, which ended fine with everyone happy and well-rested, something shifted. In the relationship between you and Gojou. Tensing in the neck, quicker palpitation sometimes. Like the feeling you had when you went on that flight to Shinjuku and also at the beach. Repetition is making it concerning. Maybe a trip to Shouko is overdue.

Gojou: Wear smth nice! Me: ? What? Gojou: They have a policy about ties n dresses or smth. Or we can show up in jeans n see how they react! Me: Let’s not. Gojou: K then! C you in 56 mins ;)

There it is again, the bubbles. Shaking your head to dislodge the feeling, you get ready for dinner.

Joints pop as you rise, lazily gathering towels and clothes. Something nice. If it’s a place with attire regulations, it must be pretty high-class. Or maybe he’s just messing with you to see what you would wear. Better not take any chances. 

Thirty minutes and your muscles are much looser thanks to the hot water. The fragrant smell of your shampoo and body wash puts you in a good mood as well. You quickly slip into a dress, a present Gojou got for you some time ago. It’s a soft and flowy one with intricate snowflakes decorating the ends. It became one of your favourites pretty quickly. 

Rhythmic knocks on the door alert you of Gojou’s arrival just as you’re done drying your hair. After checking in the mirror to see if everything is fine, you open your room door.

The only thing same about him from his usual self is the hair and smile. His casual outfit is replaced with a black suit, presumably the one he bought weeks ago when he tagged along with you to buy Ken-chan a present. Somehow it looks better on him now than it did before. Probably the antique hallway lighting than the department one, it just gives him a more cozy vibe. The blindfold is gone, replaced by sunglasses. His gorgeous irises are still hidden from your view. He cleans up well. 

“M’lady.” Bowing slightly, he stretches his hand out for you to take. You oblige with a giggle. The whole gentleman thing is cute.

“You’re on time for once! No, wait, you’re early!” Time seems to elude Gojou all the time. In the years you’ve known him, he’s never come to a meeting on time, let alone early. Especially ones about him by the higher-ups. There was one time where he didn’t even bother to come but Masamichi-san dragged him by the ear. Unfortunately, there’s no photographic proof which could have been used to mock him with.

“Of course I’ll come on time. Oh, you’re wearing the dress I bought you!” Gentleman vibe goes out the window, him returning to his hyperactive self. It’s still pretty cute. Where the hell is this coming from? There’s a constricting feeling in your throat. 

“Oh, you’ve never seen me wear it. It’s one of my favourites now, and I thought you’d like to see it. What do you think?” By now you’re out in the courtyard, illuminated under the moon. Skipping up ahead, you spin a bit, letting the dress flow out. He doesn’t say anything for a while. “Gojou?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Eh?”

“You look… beautiful.”

The softness in his voice catches you off guard. You stop in your track, the clothing falling and resting against your legs. This is a Gojou you haven’t met before, one with such sincerity and tenderness. He steps up, taking one of your hands in his. Something tingles inside your stomach, like fireflies buzzing around and lighting it up with warmth. What’s happening right now?

“I mean it. You’re dazzling.” 

Fire burns under your skin, originating from where he’s holding you and threatens to consume your entire body. The flutter in your stomach is nothing compared to this. Time stops. The only thing you can hear is his breathing and your heart beating. 

Moonlight cascades over him, showering him in an ethereal glow. Snow white hair shines brilliantly and something seizes at your throat. He slowly lowers his lips to meet with the back of your hand, pressing a light yet somehow heavy kiss. 

You're not moving. Not breathing. It feels like you're standing on a sheet-thin glass, a bottomless abyss underneath you. If you move even a centimeter, take even the slightest of breathes, the moment will break and you'll plummet down. 

Lungs scream at you to breathe. You can't. Not while he's still holding your hand with such gentle sincerity. Heat travels to every cell in your body and the flicker inside your stomach gets unbearable. 

The moment finally ends when his lips detach from your hand. Air slowly returns as he runs his fingers over your knuckles. When he peers down at you, there's just a momentary flash of piercing blue behind his sunglasses that makes your breath hitch. 

"Shall we go?" 

Shooting you a sweet smile, he doesn't let go of your hand and marches on forward. You barely remember to keep up, brain scrambled and chest exploding.

“This is an exclusive place. How did you get reservations this fast?”

“My stunning good looks!”

“Gojou.” 

“Apparently someone cancelled their reservations. Looks and luck. What don’t I have?”

“Humility.

“That cuts me, [Name].”

Stifling laughter, you look out of the window and onto the street. A few weeks ago the view would have been amazing, but now that you’ve experienced flying, nothing measures up to it. There hasn’t been another flight break as you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him for one, since he was so busy, but the exhilaration of the trip never quite left your body. 

When you turn your attention back to him, there’s a lit candle on the table and Gojou’s resting his head on his hand, staring at you. The intensity can be felt over his sunglasses.

“What’s up with the candlelight?”

“No idea.”

Attempts for small talk are useless. A silence sits in the air. Not the comfortable kind that you normally have with him, working in your office while he takes a nap on the sofa nearby. Or the one when he unceremoniously interrupts a break in the garden by coming up and resting his head on your lap, enjoying a soak in the sun with you. Or when you’re eating in the cafeteria together.

Something is just off here. It might be because of… his act earlier. Just thinking about it is enough to bring the blush back. But no, it's more to do with this place. It's much nicer than your school, expensive chandeliers and tablecloths, the air of refinery that everyone else naturally oozes. But it’s distant, detached. It doesn’t suit you or him. Eventually, you break.

“Why did you bring me here?” The smile disappears off of Gojou’s face and his brow scrunches in confusion.

“I thought girls liked this kind of thing!”

"Well, yeah, it’s exclusive for a reason. But I… don’t feel comfortable here. I’m grateful that you brought me here, and I appreciate all the effort you put into this to secure a place for us. It’s just that this feels way too serious to make up for a missed meal. I feel terrible that you went through all that trouble for me. I’m fine with somewhere more casual and comfortable, not the most expensive place you can take me.”

“You think this is the most expensive place I can take you? I’m wounded.” Gojou grips at his heart but the easy-going smile tells a different story. You give him a tentative smile back, worried he might be offended underneath his smile.

“Unless you want to stay here? I’m fine with that as well, this is completely up to you.”

“Nope, it’s up to you. Wanna head out then?” He holds his hand out again. You take it without a second thought. 

“Where is this?”

“My favourite restaurant! They have the best dango for dessert. And of course, the main menus are good as well.” He’s so consistent. 

Customers and chefs alike stare at you two when you walk in. Which is expected when Gojou’s dressed in an immaculate designer suit that’s in complete contrast to the humble and cozy interior of the shop. Some avert their gaze when they realise they’re being rude, but you can see them sneaking a peek from the corners of their eyes. You’re not dressed up as Gojou is, but mortification still flushes your cheeks. It gets worse when he guides you over to a table, leading you to a table by hugging you from behind. This never bothered you before so why is it affecting you so much now?

“Here you go.” He pushes a chair back for you to sit in. A server greets you with a smile, handing over the menu then disappears again. “Is this place better?”

It really is. Spices and the smell of broth leak into the eating areas, triggering your taste buds and causing you to salivate. People chatter and yell and cheer, the cacophony of noises filling the place with livelihood unlike the cold silence of the previous restaurant. This is somehow more peaceful. A smile blooms on your face. 

“This is perfect.” 

The rest of the night is smooth sailing. Gojou knows your taste in food perfectly, expertly recommending which ones to try out. The food is impeccable and the dangos are exquisite, the perfect blend of sweet and chewy. Conversation flows easily once you’re comfortable and blocking out whatever the courtyard thing was. 

He's been away for a while due to a sudden influx in curses so it's nice to have some quality time together like this. With your belly full and warmth spreading over your body, you were ready to hit the sack. 

That is, if he didn’t offer sake to end the night. 

“Hmmm sleepy…” Alcohol doesn’t taste nice. Fuzziness takes over your brain, like thoughts are all mixing with each other and the room is spinning weirdly. Closing your eyes helps. Lights are way still way too bright and it feels like sweat is pouring off you by buckets. Someone’s calling your name but the wall is so nice and cool against your blazing skin. 

“Didn’t know you’d be this much of a lightweight. Hey, hey, you with me?” Gojou’s blurry face comes into view when you open your eyes. Giggles escape you for absolutely no reason. 

“Gojou!” 

“Yes, yes, I’m here. I think you need to stop drinking. Nanami might never let me see you again.” 

“Your cheeks are so squishy!” It’s soft and smooth underneath your fingers, like he doesn’t have pores. Maybe you can’t feel pores with fingers but his skin is just that flawless. “Drop your skincare routine, baby skin.”

“You had like three cups, how are you this drunk? I already paid so let’s go back to school. Lift your arms?” You obey obediently and something warm encases you. A familiar and delightful scent assaults your nose. There’s a click, a lot of clicks, like someone’s taking a photo. You can’t be bothered looking to check. “Can you stand?”

“Mm…” 

“Guess that’s a no. Keep your eyes closed.” 

Your stomach lurches as you’re pulled onto your feet, supported by something under your arms. Cold air rushes onto your face and makes you whine. There’s a call of “thank you” which you reply in your drunken stupor with “I’ll be back!” Laughter comes somewhere from above. 

It’s dark enough outside that you can open your eyes again. Everything’s still a bit hazy but you can find your balance now.

“You think you can handle flying?” There’s really no way to tell other than to try it. So you nod.

There’s a blank memory between that decision and the moment you arrive at your doorsteps. Literally nothing. You blinked after making that choice and now you’re standing outside your room door. You would have fallen thanks to disorientation if not for Gojou supporting you by the small of your back.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

He stands around while you get ready to sleep, helping you tie your hair and catching you when you lose balance. After washing, you stare at him and he stares right back. The stare-off continues. He finally gets the message when you point at the dress and walks out. It’s a struggle to get out of clothes in an inebriated state but after much wrestling, you manage. 

Climbing into the bed, you’re about to actually fall asleep when there’s a knock on the door. Groans answer it because it’s way too far away. The person opposite seems to get the message and comes in. You peek and it’s Gojou with a plastic shopping bag. Sitting down and making himself comfortable on the bed, he ruffles through the bag.

“Hey, you have to drink this. It’ll help tomorrow.” He helps you sit up but pauses for a second. Your eyes flicker open. He’s looking at your body. “Are you still wearing my jacket? After you’ve changed?”

“Yup! Smells nice!” You bury your face in the lapel as if to prove a point. The grip on your arm tightens and he looks down. 

“It smells nice?” 

“Mhm. It's you. I feel like I'm being protected." He lets go of you, instead choosing to cover his face in his hands. His ears look red. Flicking it looks fun. "Gojou? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Drink the medicine." Even with your messed up, alcohol-ridden tongue, it tastes bad. Attempts at whining and escaping is futile because he's stronger than you. "There you go. Now sleep."

He helps you down this time, brushing your hair with his fingers and cleaning up after himself. It's nice and fluffy inside the covers. Gojou takes your hand again, pressing another kiss on the back of it. Shorter than the last time but the intensity hasn't changed. 

"Don't leave." It’s basically a whisper, but Gojou freezes immediately. There's no sound for a while and you can't see what's happening because of your drooping eyelids. Alcohol is great at inducing sleep. A rustling sound and his fingers interlocks with yours. 

“You want me to stay? I’d almost say you like me.” His voice is low as well, but still with a teasing lilt, like he's trying to help you fall asleep. So considerate. Always so considerate.

"Maybe." The word trails off into a mumble. Alcohol also gets rid of your filters and the understanding of when to stop talking.

"I'm sorry, what?" 

"Dunno… You're making me feel weird things…" Digging yourself further into the covers, you try to block out even the faint lamplight. Having none of that, Gojou pulls you out from the blanket cave, ignoring your whines.

"You'll suffocate in there. I'm fine with doing CPR but Nanami might not. What do you mean by 'weird things'?" 

"I don't know… There was like… this thing inside my stomach when you did the thing out in the uh… place. My insides felt itchy and weird thanks to you. Take that!" It probably could not have been more easier to catch your fist. "Noooo, you deserve to be hit! You did something to me… That's why I feel so weird when I'm around you. Ever since the beach trip… I sometimes get heart thumps when I see you… It doesn't make sense why I'm feeling this… I don't feel it with other people…" 

In an attempt to show how annoyed you are, you try to flail around on the bed but it comes out more as a tiny jiggle. Like a caterpillar. Gojou lets out a chuckle. It sounds like he’s laughing at you. Smacking him comes to mind but you’re comfortable right now so you’ll forgive him. By now you’re just mumbling into the blanket.

"Because like… it's the same. You know? This, this… whatever this is… Like in the movies, the fluffy ones. When the girl falls in love with the guy. They show like the whole thing with like the thingies… The close up, the blush, heartbeat getting quicker in the background… Thump thump, yeah? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Silence is his answer. You know he's still there because his hand is still connected to yours.

Sleep addles your mind. There's a whole lot of words popping up, like "Gojou" and "dinner" and "date" for some reason. But it's too late and everything is shutting down. Softly, slowly, you sink into slumber.

"Gojou?" Still nothing. "Hmmm you're asleep as well, huh? That's fine, that's good. You do so much to save everyone, you deserve a break. Like a hero… So brave, so selfless… Really stupid as well, so immature… Hn, maybe I do like you…"

"Say that again?" Oh, he's back. And he's gently shaking your hand, trying to keep you awake. But your consciousness is slipping away and soon everything turns into a pleasant hum.

The last thing you feel is something soft pressing against your forehead.

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